->
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 THE PARIAH 
 
 VOL. I
 
 THE 
 
 PARIAH 
 
 BY 
 
 F. ANSTEY j.^^ui 
 
 AUTHOR OF 'TICE VERSA* 'THE GIAXT'S ROBE' 
 'a FALLEN" idol' ETC. 
 
 U.^ «t.iu*.>u^ XU^^iu^ 
 
 IX THREE VOLUMES 
 
 YOL. I 
 
 LONDON 
 SMITH, ELDER, & CO., 15 WATEELOO PLACE 
 
 1889 
 
 [.4// rights reserved^
 
 
 PR. 
 
 v.r 
 CONTENTS 
 
 OF 
 
 THE FIKST VOLUME 
 
 — K>» 
 
 5^ 
 
 BOOK I 
 
 ANTIPATHY AND ATTBACTION 
 
 A CHAPTEE PAGE 
 
 ^ I. ENGLISH EXCLUSIVENESS . . ... . . .3 
 
 II. BREAKING THE ICE . . . . . . . . 21 
 
 III. A HIGH-HANDED PROCEEDING ,34 
 
 IV. YOUNG MR. CHADWICK . , .53 
 
 ^ . V. VALENTINE AND ORSON 75 
 
 — «i VI. SO YOUNG AND SO UN-TENDER 94 
 
 VII. A REACTION . . 115 
 
 VIII. AN UNEXPECTED DELIVERANCE 137 
 
 IX. A CLOUD FROII ACROSS THE SEA . . . . .156 
 
 ^ BOOK II 
 
 '^ KICKING AGAINST THE PRICKS 
 
 I. SCYLLA AND CHARYBDIS 1G9 
 
 II. DELF AND CHINA ........ 182 
 
 ^ III. TO DEAF EARS 200 
 
 ^ IV. THE DANGERS OF NOT KNOWING WHEN TO STOP . .217 
 
 1 V. A MODUS VIVENDI . . 233 
 
 ^ BOOK III 
 
 
 4 
 
 PRELIMINABIES TO HANGING A DOG 
 
 I. COMMENTS AFTER CHURCH 257 
 
 II. ATTEMPTS TO MANUFACTURE A SILK PURSE . . .276 

 
 THE PAEIAH 
 
 Book I. 
 
 ANTIPATHY AND ATTRACTION 
 
 ' Sie war licbenswurdig , und er licbte Sie ; Er aber war 
 nicht liebenswurdig, und Sie licbte IJin nicht" 
 
 (Altes Stiick) Heine 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 ENGLISH EXCLUSIVENESS 
 
 And curving a contumelious lip, 
 Gorgonised me from head to foot 
 With a stony British stare. ^J/««r7, 
 
 It was the hottest hour of an afternoou in mid- August ; 
 the plage at Trouville was crowded, the great bathing 
 function at its height. 
 
 Bathing-machines were lurching and jolting down to 
 the water's edge ; stout French gentlemen, striped red, 
 white and blue, like cheap sweetstufF, were floundering 
 in a couple of feet of water with the air of sea-lions ; 
 younger men were swimming out beyond the masts, or 
 displaying their symmetry on the deck of their double- 
 canoes ; ladies in baggy blue tunics and trousers were 
 clinging to the ropes and screaming with shrill ecstasy 
 when a larger wave than usual knocked their oilskin 
 caps together ; on the sands there were gay tents, 
 tricolour flags, giant umbrellas, under which the bathers 
 received en peignoir or read their ' Gil Bias ' and ' Petit 
 Journal ' between their dips. 
 
 To the British mind there is something irregular 
 and almost improper in the idea of bathing in the 
 iifternoon, and the British constitution generally prefers 
 
 a 2
 
 4 THE PARIAH 
 
 to digest ita mid-day meal under other conditions than 
 seated on a straw chair, in a scorching sun, and on 
 glaring white-hot sand, watching foreigners making 
 more or less painful exhibitions of themselves. 
 
 And so, the (irand Hotel Californie at Trouville 
 being the establishment most in favour with English- 
 speaking visitors, some of these were generally to be 
 found at this particular time upon a terrace opening 
 out of the central salle of that hotel, and protected 
 from the sun as far as possible by a great awning. 
 
 This afternoon, for some reason, the party was less 
 numerous and representative than on others, consisting 
 chiefly of ]\Ir. and Mrs. Spoker, a young married couple, 
 and Mr. Hiram P. Whipple, a reflective but uncom- 
 municative American, with a withered wife and a 
 brilliant daughter. 
 
 Conversation had followed its well-worn groove — 
 abuse of the management, the hours, the wines, the 
 cookery, the beds, the charges, for there are few tra- 
 vellers with souls so dead as to own themselves satisfied 
 with anything at a foreign hotel ; but all that could be 
 ^aid on these subjects had been said once more and a 
 pause had followed, the reproach of which each seemed 
 too lazy to remove, until Mr. Spoker, a light^-eyelashed, 
 foxy-faced young man, introduced a new subject. 
 
 ' If we'd had a little more energy, all of us,' he 
 remarked, ' we might have been at Deauville races this 
 atternoon ; they ran a drag over from the hotel.' 
 
 ' Well,' said Miss Magnolia Whipple, ' if anything 
 could make me hotter than I am it would be looking on
 
 ENGLISH EXCLUSIVEXESS 5 
 
 at horse-racing on an afternoon like tliis ; not that you 
 could expect any horse to hurry — they won't do more 
 than stroll quietly along the course on the shady side.' 
 
 ' Of course,' said Mr. Spoker, ' these foreign meetings 
 aren't like the real thing — rather j)lm\in(j at racing.' 
 
 ' Now wouldn't anyone think, to hear him talk, that 
 he never missed a race when he's at home ? ' cried his 
 wife, who charged herself with the duty of unmasking 
 her husband's harmless little affectations ; ' and yet I 
 don't believe he was ever even at the Derby more than 
 once in his life — now, were you, Alfred ? AJi. he won't 
 answer ! ' she cried in high glee. ' I've offended him. 
 Never mind, Alfred, dear, you do know something about 
 racing — he spotted the winning horse at the " Petits 
 Che vans " last night from the way it carried its tail — 
 he won fourteen francs, which gives him a right to 
 talk like a sportsman.' 
 
 ' As you lost them and a lot more in the course 
 of the evening,' retorted Mr. Spoker, ' I should have 
 thought it didn't give you any right to talk at all.' 
 
 ' Should you, Alfred, really ? Ah, well, you see 
 your mistake now, dear. By the way,' she broke off, 
 ' does anyone know what has become of Mrs. Chevening 
 and her daughter ? they generally sit out here for a little 
 while. I wonder if they've gone to the races ! ' 
 
 ' Mrs. Chevening's too real high-toned to go, unless 
 it was on top of a four-in-hand with a few dukes around,' 
 drawled Miss Magnolia Whipple. 'And there's not 
 much aristocracy at this hotel, only one Italian prince, 
 and poppa took Mm for a waiter.'
 
 6 THE PARI AH 
 
 ' ^lanfnolia A\'li!pple, you do dress things up beyond 
 all ! ' remonstrated her mother ; ' your father merely 
 told him he must take two dollars off our bill ; it wa3 
 the hotel clerk he thought he was speaking to.' 
 
 ' Well, and that wouldn't turn most princes' heads, 
 I should think. But it was ]\Irs. Cheveuing we were 
 talking of. Can anyone inform me what's the reason 
 they have for thinking themselves just too select for 
 anything, those two, particularly the girl? Why has 
 she got that way of not seeming to have any use for 
 most people ? AVho is she, anyway ? ' 
 
 ' They belong to a good family — well connected and 
 all that — related to Lord Yaverland,' said jNlr. Spoker. 
 
 ' Alfred, you are too funny when you talk Peerage, 
 and you don't know anything about it yourself — only 
 what she chose to tell you.' 
 
 ' She's the widow of a colonel, isn't she ? ' said Miss 
 Whipple, ' and not a live colonel at that. We don't 
 tiiink very much of that at home. And they don't seem 
 to live in any style where they are, either. I don't see 
 why they behave as if nothing and nobody was good 
 enough for them.' 
 
 ' Magnolia,' said her mother, * you'll have people 
 thinking you're jealous if you go on that way.' 
 
 ' Mother's like the lady who was always telling her 
 daughter to take her eyelashes out of tangle,' said Miss 
 ^Magnolia with perfect serenity ; ' but I'm not jealous — 
 our styles are too distinct to clash. And I admire her 
 ever so much. I tliink she's too beautiful almost to live, 
 and I'd just adore her if she'd let me — but she never has
 
 ENGLISH EXCLUSIVENESS 7 
 
 any time for me, and that makes me so mad with her. 
 I don't like being made to feel no account every time ! ' 
 
 One or two of her male listeners seemed half con- 
 scious here that a complimentary speech of some sort 
 was expected from them, but complimenting the pretty 
 American in public was rather like riding at the quin- 
 tain ; any lack of adroitness was certain to result in a 
 shower of chaff, so they deferred the venture to a more 
 private occasion. 
 
 She had scarcely finished her sentence before one of 
 the swing-doors which communicated with the central 
 hall of the hotel opened, and the party was joined by 
 the lady whose title to exclusiveness she had been 
 calling in question. 
 
 Mrs. Chevening greeted the company with a smiling 
 and comprehensive nod, not perhaps free from a sus- 
 picion of condescension, as she took one of the seats 
 that had been placed at her disposal. She was a hand- 
 some woman, who moved and spoke with a languid grace 
 that was mannered without being affected. In spite of 
 the grey streaks in her luxuriant hair, and one or two 
 lines traced by anxiety or worry on her brow and about 
 her mouth, she looked some years younger than her 
 actual age, which was forty-three. Her dress was 
 what an English matron of means and position might 
 be expected to wear at such a place, and certainly, 
 even to a female eye, betrayed no signs of undue regard 
 for economy. 
 
 ' We've just been discussing some of the people at 
 this hotel,' said Miss Magnolia audaciously.
 
 8 THE PARIAH 
 
 ' Oh/ said Mrs. Chevening, who did not approve of 
 Miss Whipple ; ' and were they really worth the 
 trouble ? ' 
 
 ' Well, we were wondering,' replied the young lady 
 iemurely. 
 
 ' I can't say I have seen anyone as yet in whom I 
 could feel the faintest interest,' continued the other. 
 ' Trouville is so changed from what I remember it — such 
 a very different class of people come here now.' 
 
 ' Talking of queer people,' put in Mr, Spoker, who 
 perhaps felt that the conversation was trenching on 
 delicate ground, ' who's the man who goes about in a 
 pith helmet — man who comes to table dliote in a light 
 coat — looks like an Army man ? ' 
 
 ' Not in the least like any Army man I ever met ! ' 
 said Mrs. Chevening in the tone ot an authority on the 
 subject ; ' he looks an odious person — they put him next 
 to me at dinner last night.' 
 
 ' Did you get any talk with him ? ' 
 
 ' I ? no, indeed ! I am not so fond of talking to 
 persons I know nothing about, so many people travel 
 now who are quite too impossible'; and this man may 
 be a bootmaker or something dreadful of that kind at 
 home, for anything one can tell,' 
 
 ' If you really want to know all about hira, Spoker,' 
 said one of the men, ' old Liversedge is your man ; 
 lives in his part of the country, or knew him out in 
 India or something — don't seem very intimate here 
 though.' 
 
 ' Mr. Liversedge knows something about everybody.
 
 ENGLISH EXCLUSIVENESS -9 
 
 it seems to me,' said Miss Magnolia ; ' and it's never any- 
 thing they'd be likely to put in their autobiographies 
 either. It seems a little cooler now ; the band will have 
 begun at the Casino by this time ; suppose we make a 
 move ; — won't you honour us, Mrs. Chevening ? ' 
 
 ' You are very good,' was the reply, ' but I must 
 find my daughter first. I thought she would have been 
 out here.' 
 
 'She hasn't come near us since lunch. Seems as 
 if she had found more interesting company somewhere," 
 said Miss Whipple, not without malice, as she prepared 
 to descend with the rest of her party and cross the 
 boarded sands to the Casino. 
 
 Meanwhile the wearer of the pith helmet — a cover- 
 ing which had procured him notice even at Trouville, 
 where hats and caps incline to the fantastic — had been 
 wandering disconsolately about the town. Earlier in 
 the day he had attempted to take a bath, but failing to 
 master the rather complicated preliminaries, he had 
 got into a machine without any of the numerous tickets, 
 and the haigneiir, after vainly trying to inform him 
 that he must go back and book his cahane, iJeirjnoir, 
 serviette, and costume, by separate processes, and then 
 present himself anew, was reduced to ordering him out 
 of the machine in unmistakable pantomime ; whereupon 
 the Engflishman had retreated under cover of a vollev 
 of Hindustani, and turned disgustedly up the nearest 
 street. ' ^yhat was that fool in the red flannel driving 
 at, I wonder,' he was thinking ; ' I should have hoped 
 I was respectable enough to be allowed to bathe in
 
 lo THE PARIAH 
 
 tlieir beastly soa without producing my passport and 
 certiticate of birth, and the Lord knows what ! ' 
 
 The heat in the narrow streets was oppressive ; the 
 gutters exhaled a succession of odours that were not 
 refreshing, the pavements were bare, for all the usual 
 loiterers were away at Deauville ; the proprietors of the 
 shops where ' Articles de Paris ' were sold were asleep 
 in tlieir muslined and mirrored back-parlours; the 
 dAxme dit comptoir at the confectioner's was dozing over 
 her feuilleton ; the waiters in the green-shuttered cafes 
 were sleeping with their heads laid on the marble-topped 
 tables. As the wanderer passed a private house where 
 windows opened upon the street, he had a view of a 
 gaudy little room, all ormolu and floral tapestry, with 
 a stout bourgeois and his poodle slumbering peacefully 
 on opposite armchairs. The only sounds that broke 
 the hot stillness were the click of billiard balls, or rattle 
 of dominoes from the upper rooms of restaurants, the 
 drowsy tinkle of a pension piano, or the peevish jingle 
 of bells whenever one of the fly-horses on the place 
 shook his long-suffering and sheepskinned head. 
 
 At the little circulating library where English was 
 spoken, but not understood, yesterday's London papers 
 had not yet come in. The Englishman had smoked all 
 his own cigars, and mistrusted, not unjustly, those pro- 
 duced under the fostering care of the French govern- 
 ment. He was absolutely without resources, being one 
 of those persons who soon exhaust the pleasure of 
 noveltv. 
 
 Walking idly along in that unenviable mood in
 
 ENGLISH EXCLUSIVENESS n 
 
 whicli eacli change of direction seems more wearisome, 
 Mr. Joshua Chadwick, as his name was, fell into a 
 somewhat bitter and sombre train of thought. 
 
 ' Upon my soul,' he was saying inwardly, 'for all the 
 acquaintances I've made, or am likely to make in this 
 hole, I might as well be back at one of the old Furred- 
 pore concerns at once — better, for I could do as I 
 pleased there. It does seem an extraordinary thing 
 that with so many English people at the hotel I haven't 
 found a soul to speak to. They stuck me between a 
 pair of Frenchmen at every tahle d'hote except last 
 night, and then I didn't get on much better — that 
 woman with the grey hair wouldn't talk. I wonder if 
 Liversedge has been telling them about me. It's likely 
 enough. I was pretty short with him when he came 
 up to me with some eyewash or other about our being 
 neighbours at Gorsecombe now, and hoping we should 
 be friends. " If I wasn't good enough for you in Bengal," 
 I said, " I'm not good enough for you here." I've never 
 forgiven him that day he came to dine with me at the 
 factory, and found a ryot — an obstinate old devil who 
 wouldn't sow a single beegah of his fields in indigo — 
 locked up in the go-down. Anybody else would have 
 taken no notice, seeing he was my guest ; but Liversedge 
 had me up and fined me, and made me let the nigger 
 out too. That was the last time he ever dined with 
 me while he was in the district. But what could he 
 say against me here ? Only that I wasn't as steady as 
 I misrht have been. Who was there out there to care 
 how I lived? "Who will care now when I'm rich and
 
 12 THE PARIAH 
 
 turned respectable? llespectable ! yes, I've got some 
 object in keeping respectable now, for the boy's sake.' 
 
 Joshua Chadwick's career had been a singularly 
 hard and unsuccessful one till quite lately. Twenty- 
 two years before he was in his father's business with 
 every prospect of a speedy partnership. Then he had 
 committed the offence which had led to his expulsion ; 
 he had married one of the assistants employed in the 
 establishment — an imprudence which the old man could 
 not forgive, 
 
 Chadwick had gone out to Calcutta ; his father's 
 business lay in Oriental goods generally, and he ex- 
 pected that one of the banks there, with whom their 
 house had dealings, might be inclined to help him, as 
 proved to be the case. 
 
 The bank, like many Indian banks, owned silk and 
 indigo factories in various districts, and to one of them 
 young Chadwick was sent as assistant-manager. At 
 that time he was rather of the type of ' good young 
 man,' brought up in a strict Dissenting circle, an active 
 Christian of a somewhat exuberant class, — energetic, 
 emotional, fond of power. To be persecuted for doing 
 right was gratifying ; he went out with a light heart to 
 make a home for his young wife, and gain riches in 
 spite of the parental edict. He happened to reach the 
 Indigo plantation in the very height of the disputes 
 between planters, ryots, and missionaries, and his 
 avowed leaning to the latter did not make him more 
 popular with his fellow-planters. Ho was not a man 
 with any graces of manner, nor was he accustomed to
 
 ENGLISH EXCLUSIVENESS I J 
 
 society ; lie lived much to himself, and put by all that 
 he could save from his salary towards the home he was 
 planning. Then came the news which made him an 
 altered man ; his wife had died, leaving him w^ith an 
 infant son whom he had never seen. He grew morose 
 and overbearing, fell out with his only friends, the mis- 
 sionaries, and presently became notorious for his high- 
 handed dealings with the natives. Later, when he was 
 transferred to a concern in another part of the country, 
 he threw off every restraint and lived in a manner which 
 made it impossible for married planters at all events to 
 associate with him. He managed to save enough to buy 
 a share in the factory ; bat the Indigo interest in Bengal 
 was slowly declining, and after long years of struggle 
 against refractory ryots and bad seasons, Chadwick had 
 been glad to sell out for what he could, and the Bank 
 had helped him to purchase a factory in Behar, where 
 the prospects of making a living were more favourable. 
 
 In Behar he had at last begun to prosper, but there, 
 too, his life was no more reputable than before ; his 
 unsociable manners and irregular habits excluded him 
 from such society as was to be had, and Chadwick was 
 perfectly content to be so excluded. 
 
 All this time he had not heard from his father, and 
 but rarely of his son, for whose support he had sent 
 over small remittances from time to time, but the fact 
 that he had cost his mother's life possibly turned his 
 heart ag-ainst him from the first, for he felt no real 
 interest in the boy. 
 
 At last he heard, through the Calcutta Bank, that
 
 14 THE PARIAH 
 
 his father was dead, aiul afterwards, to his utter aston- 
 ishment, that he had relented and left his only son a 
 half share in a very handsome fortune, Tiiereupon he 
 had left his plantation to the care of an agent, and 
 returned to his native land, with a sense that his altered 
 position had brought new responsibilities, that he must 
 leave sack and live cleanly in future. So far, however, 
 neither his money nor his studious regard for the pro- 
 prieties had procured him the footing he had expected 
 in his native land. At Gorsecombe, the village in 
 Pineshire, where his father had built himself a country 
 house, he had not found himself at all cordially welcomed 
 by the local society. Even here at Trouville, his fellow- 
 countrymen seemed to have combined to relegate him 
 to the enjoyment of his own society. Once, in his 
 reckless revolt against conventions, he would have been 
 resigned enough, but the isolation one achieves is very 
 different from that which is thrust upon one, and Chad- 
 wick resented being treated as an outsider in this way. 
 
 He did not make sufficient allowance for the natural 
 suspicion and exclusiveness of the travelling English- 
 man, or the tendency of a clique when once formed to 
 be chary of admitting others into its circle. And then, 
 too, by a merciful law of nature which ordains that 
 none of us can know exactly what impression we pro- 
 duce upon an unbiassed mind, he did not realise that 
 his appearance was not in itself a recommendation. 
 
 Chadwick was a big man with a face coarsely and 
 floridly coloured, bronzed by the sun, seamed and lined 
 by hard living; he had strangely excitable-looking
 
 ENGLISH EXCLUSIVE XESS 15 
 
 liglit-grey eyes, and a large loose sensual mouth ; he 
 was not positively ill-looking, nor was his expression 
 bad, though to a fastidious sense there was something 
 overpowering about the whole man which did not en- 
 courage advances. 
 
 ' I suppose,' he said, continuing his meditations, ' I 
 could find ways of passing my time at a place like this, 
 if I chose to look about me — but there's the boy to be 
 thought of now. I'll give the other thing a chance. 
 Perhaps it's been my fault after all. I've been expect- 
 ing other people to make up to me, instead of meeting 
 them half-way myself. I'll go back to that hotel, and 
 have another try.' 
 
 Strong in this new resolution, he struck up a little 
 street under huge white calico banners advertisino- 
 pianos for hire, and up between high walls and staring 
 doU's-house-like villas, until he reached the Hotel 
 Californie, a large unbeautiful pile as architecturally 
 characterless and pretentious as most hotels. 
 
 No one was in the big entrance hall except Mr. 
 Liversedge, who was asleep on one of the divans, a couple 
 of enormously stout foreigners, a husband and wife, who 
 were sitting side by side on another, panting like over- 
 driven cattle. Through the glass screen at the end he 
 could see the heads of the group on the terrace outside. 
 He looked a moment through the glass doors, and then 
 his nerve failed him — it required more moral courage 
 than he possessed just then in spite of his resolve to go 
 out and sit amongst them, and risk an unmistakable 
 snub by joining in the conversation.
 
 1 6 IHE PARIAH 
 
 ' T don't feel up to tackling the lot of 'em,' he 
 thought, and went out again and round by a lower path 
 to a terrace immediately under and out of sight of the 
 balcony, where he might find an opportunity of culti- 
 vating the acquaintance of a solitary Briton. 
 
 On this terrace, which led up to the balcony or upper 
 terrace by a double flight of steps and was laid out with 
 shrubs and benches, Fortune favoured Mr. Chad wick 
 even beyond his hopes, for, although there was no portly 
 paterfamilias or sociable bachelor there, upon one of the 
 seats sat a girl of about eighteen or nineteen, evidently 
 English, and with something much more than the mere 
 prettiness of youth and health. He remembered that 
 she had sat on the other side of his unresponsive neigh- 
 bour of the table-dliote, who was probably her mother, 
 and the mere facts that she was absorbed in a book and 
 that he had not Ijeen in any way introduced were no 
 reasons, with him, for not addressing her. If he could 
 succeed in getting on good terms with her, he thought, 
 she would smooth his way for him with the rest of the 
 English set; at any rate, it was worth trying, and so he 
 drew up a chair, and sat by her bench for a minute 
 or so in silence. 
 
 Miss Chevening's face had disturbed the peace of 
 mind of more than one who still found it as impossible 
 to recall it accurately as to forget it. Her expression 
 was constantly shifting with every change of feeling, 
 like a child's, and every change gave a new meaning 
 and character to ber features. Her hazel eyes could 
 rest on you with the serenest and most mortifying indif-
 
 ENGLISH EXCLUSIVENESS 17 
 
 ference, or shine with a frank sweet friendliness that 
 was a patent of distinction in itself for the recipient. 
 Her beautiful flexible mouth had an habitual curve of 
 slight disdain, her manner to people who did not interest 
 her was apt to be curt, and, to those who provoked her 
 anger, merciless. She was impulsive and outspoken at 
 times, particularly in her dislikes ; she was fastidiously 
 intolerant of commonplace, of boredom. At school she 
 had been made the unwilling object of passionate 
 homage from enthusiastic school-girls, and she had 
 laughed at them pitilessly, though sometimes conde- 
 scending to make use of their devotion. As yet, those 
 who knew her best would have found it hard to say 
 positively whether she had a heart or not, in the 
 metaphorical sense of the word, if it had not been for 
 the affection she showed for the younger members of 
 her own family. 
 
 All this does not perhaps constitute a very lovable 
 character, and it must be admitted that Miss Chevening's 
 virtues and amiability had never made her friends at all 
 apprehensive of her early decease, but a lovely face and 
 form atone for many shortcomings, and gain for their 
 possessor a regard often as little deserved as sought. 
 
 Perhaps the past had done something to embitter 
 her view of the world. She had been singularly 
 beautiful from her childhood, and had always been ac- 
 customed to be made much of, especially at country- 
 houses, where she frequently accompanied her father 
 and mother on visits, and obtained a precocious know- 
 ledge of society. 
 
 VOL. I. C
 
 1 8 THE PARIAH 
 
 She had been expensively educated at a fashionable 
 watering-place school, and although Colonel Cheveuing 
 had been ordered out to Afghanistan in the meauwhik', 
 and was killed at Maiwand when ]\Iargot was sixteen, 
 he left his widow fairly well off, and there seemed no 
 n^ason whv his daughters should not take their natural 
 place in society when they were of an age to come out. 
 
 Unhappily, Mrs. Chevening, who was at once am- 
 bitious and extravagant, conceived the idea of increasing 
 her income by speculation — with results that may be 
 easily imagined. She had to give up her house in 
 Chesham Place, and find another large enough for her 
 family and at a rent suitable to her reduced means, and, 
 tempted by its cheapness, she took one of the old houses 
 which are to be found along the river bank between 
 Chiswick and Hammersmith. Perhaps she had ex- 
 pected that her friends would find her out there ; or 
 perhaps, in the first bitterness of her reverses, she 
 had been glad of a retreat ; at all events, she found 
 herself deserted by all her former set. Chiswick was 
 too long a drive for them, and they soon forgot, first 
 her address and then her existence. Mrs. Chevening 
 having chosen to take offence at a neglect which she 
 might have expected, had made no effort to keep up 
 litM- relations with her smart friends, and the conse- 
 quence was that Margot, at a time when, had all gone 
 well, she would have been presented to her Sovereign 
 and launched into her first London season, was living 
 the life of any young lady of the middle-class who had 
 never aspired to society.
 
 ENGLISH EXCLUSIVENESS 19 
 
 Her devoted school-girl friends had come out and 
 forgotten her; her aunt, Lady Yaverland, who had 
 daughters of her own, considered her duty to her niece 
 and sister-in-law sufficiently fulfilled by a card for an 
 afternoon concert at Portman Square in the winter. 
 
 One or two families at Bedford Park or Kew, and 
 in the sleepy old-world mansions wLxh still resist the 
 onset of modern bricks and mortar, formed their onlv 
 acquaintances now ; and Miss Chevening's social dis- 
 tractions were all of the mildest suburban order — a 
 garden-party, the lawn tennis club in summer, a carpet- 
 dance or two in winter. 
 
 As a rule she was something more than resigned ; 
 she liked the old-fashioned creeper-covered house b}- 
 the river ; she had been more closely drawn to her 
 sisters and brother bv their altered circumstances, and 
 the best side of her nature was reserved for them, which 
 is not invariably the case ; but Margot had a proud 
 conviction in the superiority of her own family. 
 
 Nevertheless there were times when she felt ava^ue 
 discontent, when she longed for a larger horizon than 
 the one which lay before her. Memories still lingered 
 of the days when the wheels of her life had run with 
 luxurious smoothness ; when, child as she was, she had 
 been surrounded with flatteries and pleasures. She 
 was as disposed for the pleasure now as then ; she could 
 not help knowing that she had an even better title to 
 the homage ; yet the world in which she had once 
 thought to move knew her not, and probably would 
 never know her. 
 
 c 2
 
 20 THE PARIAH 
 
 It was this consciousness of being shut out from 
 circles in which she was capable of shining which gave 
 her something of the bearing of a banished princess, 
 who found everything in her meaner estate endurable 
 but its pleasures. 
 
 This was the girl with whom Joshua Chadwick had 
 somewhat rashly determined to ingratiate himself; and 
 even he, though not a diffident man in most respects, 
 seemed to feel that there was something rather formid- 
 able about the undertaking.
 
 21 
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 BREAKING THE ICE 
 
 At length Chadwick conquered his hesitation and 
 began : ' I hope I'm not disturbing you, sitting here ? ' 
 he said. 
 
 The girl on the bench lifted her eyes for a moment 
 with a slight surprise, and then said indifferently, '■ Not 
 in the least,' and returned to her book. 
 
 ' You seem interested in what you are reading ? ' 
 
 ' Very.' This time she did not raise her eyes. 
 
 ' Might I inquire the subject ? ' 
 
 With a charming negligent gesture she held the 
 book towards him so that he might read the title. 
 
 ' " Sesame and Lilies," eh ? A work on Horticul- 
 ture, I presume ? ' 
 
 ' Yes,' said Miss Chevening, with a fine contempt 
 for accuracy. 
 
 ' Ah, the only plant I've had any experience of is 
 indigo.' 
 
 She did not conceive herself called upon to return 
 any answer to this. 
 
 ' Yes,' he continued, ' I ought to know something 
 about indigo, I've spent more than twenty years 
 of my life trying to make a living out of it — hard
 
 22 THE PARIAH 
 
 work it was, too, and yet it doesn't seem sncli a bad 
 time now to look back on. I miss it now I'm out of 
 it all.' 
 
 He was silent for a moment ; again he saw the 
 coolies beating the blue-green liquid in the great vat 
 to a milky froth, and smelt the pleasant fresh scent of 
 the dye ; for an instant he was back in the old life, 
 with all its risks, contests, and hoi^es; an autocrat in 
 his factory, a terror to villagers who shirked their 
 sowing. Then the vision faded again, and he was only 
 a friendless Englishman abroad, trying to induce a 
 monosyllabic young woman to talk to him. 
 
 Her continued inattention exasperated him into 
 saying, ' I should have thought it wouldn't have done 
 you any harm to put down your book for a few minutes 
 and be sociable ; I'm not a great talker myself, but it 
 does seem hard to have been here two days, with plenty 
 of my fellow-countrymen about, and not a civil word 
 from one of them all the time! ' 
 
 She closed her book resignedly ; she did not intend 
 to let him drive her away, and she saw that, uncon- 
 ventional as his manners were, he did not mean 
 to be offensive. Perhaps, after all, it might amuse 
 her for a short while to let him talk ; he was a new 
 type, and at least he was not commonplace, like most 
 people. 
 
 *I am quite willing to listen to you,' she said, 'if 
 you have anything to say.' 
 
 < That's more than anyone else has been yet,' he 
 answered. ' Why, the other day at iuhle, cChute I passed
 
 BREAKING THE ICE 23 
 
 a man tlie salt, and lie was so afraid of its leading to 
 anything, that he said " Mercy, m'siew," knowing as well 
 that I wasn't French as I did he was English. I call 
 that small-minded, don't you ? ' 
 
 ' Perhaps it was only shyness. Englishmen are 
 rather noted for beino: reserved, aren't thev ? ' 
 
 ' Tm not reserved,' he said ; ' if anyone wants to 
 know who I am and what I am I'm quite willing to tell 
 him. I've no reason for concealing it. But half the 
 people you meet are so mortally afraid of compromising 
 themselves by making acquaintances. There's one com- 
 fort, I shan't be lonely very long — my boy comes in a 
 day or two, he'll be company for me.' 
 
 ' Is he crossing from England, then ? ' 
 
 ' No ; he's been travelling about the Continent, and 
 I thought I'd go over and meet him at one of these 
 French seaside places, and we'd enjoy ourselves a bit 
 together before we went back. Mxj father didn't give 
 me such opportunities when I was young ; he was a 
 hard man, turned me adrift for marrying against his 
 wishes, and there was I, all the best years of my life, 
 toiling to make more than a bare living out in Bengal. 
 I couldn't do much for my son in those days — all the 
 money I could spare went towards purchasing a share 
 in a concern, or paying off loans, or meeting losses. 
 However, my father came round before he died, and I'm 
 a rich man now and able to make it up to my boy. 
 He's a good boy, too, and considering how short a time 
 we've known one another, it's surprising how we've 
 taken to eacli other. He'll want for nothing now. I'm
 
 24 THE PARIAH 
 
 :i richer man than I ever hoped to be — a richer man than 
 most down in our parts, and my son shall have a better 
 time of it than I had.' 
 
 Most of ]\Iiss Chevening s interest had been ex- 
 hausted by this time. Chadwick did not improve on 
 acquaintance ; she did not care to be the recipient of 
 these sudden confidences, and found his rough swagger 
 rather more trying than she had anticipated. She was 
 distinctly relieved, therefore, to see her mother coming 
 towards them from the upper terrace, 
 
 ' So here you are, Margot ! ' exclaimed Mrs. 
 Chevening. ' I have been looking for you everywhere.' 
 
 * Your daughter, ma'am,' said Chadwick, ' has been 
 giving me the pleasure of her society down here.' 
 
 ' Indeed ? ' she said coldly. ' Margot, I have brought 
 you two letters from Littlehampton ; they were lying on 
 the portier's table as I came through.' 
 
 ' Oh, at last ! ' cried ]Miss Chevening, all her languor 
 Ruddenl}" becoming animation ; ' give them to me please. 
 . . . From Ida ! IMother, look — two whole sheets ; she 
 must be really better ! ' 
 
 ' Pray don't let us detain you here,' said ]\Irs. 
 Chevening to Joshua Chadwick, who showed no in- 
 clination to go. 
 
 'You're not detaining me — I've only too much time 
 on my hands,' he declared. 
 
 ' Then I suppose it is we who must find some other 
 place,' said Mrs. Chevening. ' Come, ^largot.' 
 
 ' Oh ! ' he said, clumsily, ' I'll go. I didn't know I 
 was intruding ; thought the hotel grounds were free to
 
 BREAKING THE ICE 25 
 
 all. But I can easily go somewhere else, since I'm in 
 the way here. Good afternoon.' 
 
 ' ^Yhai a terrible person ! ' murmured Mrs. Cheven- 
 ing, as she sat down by her daughter's side. ' You haven't 
 really been allowing him to have any conversation with 
 you, Margot, have you ? ' 
 
 ' Ida drove to Worthing on Saturday, and wasn't in 
 the least tired,' was the irrelevant reply. 
 
 ' Dear pet — m glad ! but you didn't hear my ques- 
 tion, I think. Were you talking to that dreadful man ? ' 
 
 ' Oh, a little, — yes. At least he talked to me — he 
 told me things.' 
 
 ' Margot, how very imprudent you are ; — now we 
 shall find it very difficult to make him keep his 
 distance ! What did he tell you ? ' 
 
 ' They have been twice to Arundel,' Miss Chevening 
 announced from her letter. ' Were you asking me 
 something ? Oh, well, he told me that he had been an 
 indigo-planter, out in Bengal, I think he said. And 
 about his son, who is coming to meet him here soon. 
 And how he was immensely rich, and could buy any- 
 thing he took a fancy to — he was very full of his wealth 
 — and how no one here would speak to him, which he 
 seemed to take to heart. I think that was about all.' 
 
 ' He seems to have been very confidential,' said Mrs. 
 Chevening, whose displeasui*e seemed to have already 
 evaporated. 
 
 ' I couldn't help it, dear. I don't think I was at all 
 encouraging.' 
 
 ' Well, tell mo what Ida says.'
 
 26 THE PARIAH 
 
 ' I'll read you the end of her letter : — 
 
 * " I can't tell you what a perfect time we are having 
 here. Reggie and Lettice are nuiiiing about on the 
 sands all day, and have the most fearful appetites. You 
 can't think how sweet dear Hennie has been all the 
 time we have been here — really more like a sister than 
 a governess ! I wish you liked her more than you do, 
 because I think she feels that a good deal. I often 
 think of you and wonder if you are enjoying yourselves 
 — it must be such fun being in a big hotel ; I suppose 
 you have a dance every night almost ? Be sure and tell 
 me if you see anything very striking — in the costumes 
 I mean, of course. Hennie has two lovely gowns, and 
 looks quite pretty in them. One is a," — and so on — 
 ' " Don't you think my writing is getting like yours — it 
 isn't nearly so schoolgirly as it used to be, is it ? " ' 
 
 ' ]\riss Henderson seems to me much too fond of 
 dress for a woman in her position,' reinarked Mrs. 
 Chevening ; ' I shall really have to speak to her about it 
 when we get home. You don't care about her very 
 nmch, do you, ]\largot ? ' 
 
 ' I think she's rather silly in some things ; but Ida's 
 devoted to her ; she couldn't bear to part with her now.' 
 
 ' I wish I could have afforded some one who was a 
 little more — But we have to be so careful about what 
 we spend now,' sighed Mrs. Chevening. 
 
 ' You know I help as much as I can with the two 
 younger ones,' said Margot, ' but I've no genius for 
 teaching, and I don't know nearly so much as Miss 
 Henderson in most things. Keggie is quite beyond
 
 BREAKING THE ICE 27 
 
 me. But I must read you Lettice's epistle — she has a 
 style whicli is all her own : — 
 
 '"My dear beloved Margot,— We all like little- 
 hampton exsessively, it is the greediest place we have 
 ever been to, and we have such glorius apetits. Reggie 
 and I bild the most beutiful subteranean cavuns in the 
 sand, for pirits. We have not seen a pirit yet to speak 
 to, but there is a very plesant costgard along the cliffs. 
 Reggie and I had afternoon tea with him yesterday in 
 his cottage, and he showed us all his meddles — we are 
 going again soon." ' (' I shall write to Miss Henderson, 
 and beg her to be very careful where she allows those 
 children to go,' said Mrs. Chevening at this point. ' I 
 dare say she would draw the line at pirates,' said Margot, 
 laughing, ' though I believe Lettice would go to tea 
 with Captain Kidd himself if she was invited.') 
 
 ' " Yarrow sends his love ; he is very well. We have 
 only just forgiven him for killing a little rabit. Reggie 
 is taming the sweetest little teeny crab, he is going to 
 train it to come when he calls, and to walk strate ; he 
 says he shall do it all by kindness. It can lie on its 
 back and play at being dead so prettily, but we don't 
 know who tort it that. I have a lot of new drawings 
 to show you. Some are Nativities and Anunciations, 
 and some are mistical." ' (' What does the child mean ? ' 
 exclaimed her mother. ' Didn't you know ? ' said 
 Margfot. ' Lettice has been mad about the Old Masters 
 ever since she was taken to the National Gallery ; she 
 imitates their subjects now in lead pencil, and would
 
 28 rilE PARIAH 
 
 be dreadfully luirt if anyone thought they were funny. 
 I never trust myself to do more than glance at them.') 
 ' " I have done a ^Masterdom of Saint Sibastion, which is 
 the best I have ever done, and verij good. The day 
 before yesterday Hennie and Ida went to Wurthing, so 
 Reggie and I were left alone. We walked along the 
 prominade and pretended we could see you and mother 
 over in France waving hankychifs to us. Yesterday 
 nothing hapened except the arival of a bun-loaf about 
 tea-time. Reggie says he can't bother to write, so I'm 
 to send an apolijy. Isn't my speling very much im- 
 pruved ? Do come back soon. I think littlehampton 
 must be ever so much more emusing than France is." ' 
 
 ' Peebles for pleasure ! ' remarked ]\Iargot at Lettice's 
 opinion on the comparative merits of France and Little- 
 hampton. ' She is the quaintest darling. But Trouville 
 really is beginning to pall a little, dear, don't you 
 think? Mightn't we fini.-h our holiday with them?' 
 
 ' You are a most incomprehensible girl,' said JMrs. 
 Chevening. ' I thought, after all the anxiety and worry 
 of Ida's illness, it would be a pleasant change for you — 
 this continental life— and you are tired of it already.' 
 
 'I am ;i little tired of the Californie, I think,' said 
 Margot ; ' the people are not very interesting, and we 
 hardly ever go out of the hotel, do we ? ' 
 
 'I don't care about sight-seeing,' said J\Irs. Che- 
 vening ; ' and there is the Casino.' 
 
 ' Oh, the Casino, yes! ' replied ^largot, with a little 
 pout, 'iuy Mrs. Chevening, although she took out the
 
 BREAKING THE ICE 29 
 
 full value of her sixty francs' abonnement, did not 
 patronise any entertainment that could not be seen 
 without extra payment. Margot would have liked to 
 see more of the surrounding country, to visit some of 
 the sleepy little towns and the old homely churches, 
 where the walls were covered with tokens of naive 
 and often touching devotion, and votive ships hung 
 from the dim rafters ; but her mother's tastes did not 
 lie in this direction — she was content to oscillate between 
 the 2)lage and the Casino, and seemed to find perfect 
 satisfaction in the rather microscopic talk of the Spokers 
 and Whipples and their set. 
 
 Mrs. Chevening had sent Margot up to make her 
 preparations for the table cVJiote, and sat for a time 
 absorbed in meditations which, to judge by her ex- 
 pression, were not of a cheerful character, and whicb, 
 using an author's privilege, I may indicate more fully. 
 ' It was a mistake to come here,' she was telling herself, 
 ' a mere waste of money. If I had taken her to Whitby, 
 or Oowes, or Folkestone, we should have met people 
 worth knowing, some of my old set perhaps — but here ! 
 Yet how could I tell ? the very best people go to Trou- 
 ville some seasons ; it only happens that this year 
 they've chosen to stay away. Perhaps,' and here she 
 broke into a bitter little smile, ' it would have made 
 very little difference even if they were here. What 
 young man with a name and position would look at a 
 penniless girl, though she's as lovely as Margot? I 
 was a fool to think of it, and yet it would break my 
 heart if she were to marry some third-rate young actor
 
 30 THE PARIAH 
 
 or government clerk, and settle down for life in Bedford 
 Park or Shepherd's Bush. She ought to marry a rich 
 man, if only for the sake of the other children. Oh, if 
 poor dear Ilamilton had only been spared, how different 
 it all might have been ! And Gwendolen, who might 
 have brought her out and done everything for her, if she 
 only would — But she's afraid of Margot interfering 
 with her own girl's chances. I dare say not without 
 reason, for all those Bradings are as plain as pestles. I 
 wonder,' and here her thoughts were too disjointed and 
 enigmatic to be capable of being put into words, but 
 at the end of a long reverie she rose, and said aloud, 
 ' Wasn't somebody saying that Mr. Liversedge knew all 
 about him ? it might be worth while finding out.' 
 
 Mr. Liversedge was an ex-civil servant who had 
 been high up in the service ; he was now a gossiping 
 old bachelor with nothing to do but flutter about from 
 one watering place to another, and tell stories spiced 
 with a foi-ijourri of Eastern scandal. Cheltenham, 
 Leamington, the lliviera, and the Oriental Club knew 
 him well, and now he had come to Trouville with his 
 hoary head and his hoarier stories, to see whether ' the 
 fleeting remnant of his liver ' would be benefited by 
 Norman air. He spent most of his evenings in playing 
 an Indian variety of ' I'atience ' in the salon de lecture, 
 and would occasionally offer to instruct the prettiest 
 married woman (for he had a wholesome dread of girls 
 and widows) in the mysteries of the game. lie had 
 rather mistrusted Mrs. Chevening at first, and had been 
 careful to parade his anti-nuptial opinions, but his
 
 BREAKING THE ICE 31 
 
 alarm liacl now abated. She found him stretched at 
 full length on a divan in the hall, waiting for the dinner 
 gong, and he was easily induced to tell her all he knew 
 about the stranger in the pith helmet. 
 
 ' Curious,' he said, ' how the fellows you don't care 
 to meet v:xll crop up at the most unlikely places. I 
 knew this Chadwick soon after I joined my first ap- 
 pointment. He was managing a factory in my division, 
 and I was brought in contact with him occasionally. 
 He was the only planter about there I didn't get on 
 with — violent, overbearing fellow — not a man you could 
 know at all. I dare say he was soured by the way he'd 
 been treated. Father had those big shops in Wigmore 
 Street — Oriental warehouses — carpets, Indian wares, 
 you know 'em. Well, this man fell in love with one of 
 the young ladies in the establishment and married her. 
 The old man was a very strict and proper old gentleman, 
 with great ideas of class distinctions, so he turned his 
 son out of the business, out of the home, and country 
 too, for marr^'ing beneath him. The wife died soon 
 after, before she could come out and join her husband, 
 and after that he didn't seem to care what he did. I 
 had some trouble with him, and we were very stand-off 
 for some time. I got a collectorship in the Moorshed- 
 abad district ; flattered myself I'd seen the last of him. 
 Not a bit of it, he turned up as planter then on his 
 own account — quieter, I must say, but still — well, he 
 didn't care to make himself popular with the people 
 there. I got transferred again, and — well, to make a 
 long story short, I retired about two years ago, and
 
 32 THE PARIAH 
 
 after wandering about a little, settled down at Gorse- 
 coinbe, and whom do I find there but this identical 
 man ! It appears the old Chadwick, after living 
 for years over his place of business, suddenly took it 
 into his head to build a house for himself in the country. 
 When he died he left the house and half his property, 
 a half share in the business, which they tell rae repre- 
 sents an enormous sum — he left all this to our friend, 
 who naturally allowed his indigo to look after itself and 
 came over to his new kingdom — and here he is, worth, 
 well — a good many more lacs than I shall ever be ! ' 
 
 'And has he no family ? ' asked Mrs. Chevening — 
 ' no one to share all this good fortune.' 
 
 * One son,' said Liversedge. ' I've never happened to 
 come across him while I was at the Bungalow — my 
 place at Gorsecombe — but he must be a fine young fellow 
 by this time. I forget whether I heard that the did 
 grandfjxther took him up and had him educated or not.' 
 ' Very likely,' said Mrs. Chevening ; ' it would be 
 the least he could do. But how very odd that you 
 should go on meeting this Mr. Chadwick like that.' 
 
 ' Even here, you see, I've not escaped him — went 
 out day before yesterday, and the first thing I saw was 
 his confounded old sun-helmt't ! However, I keep out 
 of his way. I don't want to have more than I can help 
 to do with the man.' 
 
 ' Well,' said Mrs. Chevening, ' I don't know whether 
 it is the way you have told the story, but, do you know, 
 / feel quite interested in him, poor man ! ' 
 
 How nearly, she mused, she had thrown away what,
 
 BREAKING THE ICE ^^ 
 
 for anything she knew, might prove the very oppor- 
 tunity she was in search of! To think that she had 
 been discouraging advances from a wealthy planter, 
 with an only son who was expected to arrive shortly ! 
 How unwise it was, how wrong, indeed, to be governed 
 by first impressions. The father was not prepossessing, 
 it was true, but it did not at all follow that his son 
 would resemble him. On the contrary, it was likely 
 enough that he would possess an education and ac- 
 complishments suitable to his expectations. And if 
 this young man were to make Margot's acquaintance, 
 might not the happiest results be expected ? It was a 
 chance at all events, and one she could not afford to 
 neglect ; at whatever sacrifice to her private feelings, 
 this Mr. Chadwick must be cultivated. Had she gone 
 too far to make this possible now ? She remembered 
 the man's loneliness, his evident desire for companion- 
 ship of some sort — no, it would not be difficult to con- 
 ciliate him. But it must be done without delay ; if she 
 waited until the son appeared, it might be too late. It 
 was an unpleasant necessity, especially after the 
 opinions she had pronounced, but that could not be 
 helped. ' So long as it turns out well,' she concluded, 
 'what need I care what the people here choose to 
 think ? ' 
 
 And, as a preliminary measure, she set herself de- 
 liberately to forget all that she had said and thought 
 which was at variance with her new departure, — such 
 act of oblivion being a mental fact that no renegade can 
 safely omit. 
 
 VOL. I. D
 
 34 THE PARIAH 
 
 CHArTEll III 
 
 A HIGn-HANDED PROCEEDING 
 
 ' I THINK your manner is fi little too inclined to be for- 
 hiJtling, Margot,' remarked her mother as they were 
 walking down to the Casiao later in the evening ; ' it 
 is almost as serious a mistake for a young girl to make 
 as the op]iosite extreme — it really is ! ' 
 
 ' What have I done now, dear ? ' inquired Miss 
 Chevening, with lifted eyebrows. 
 
 ' Well, you were so very " snubby " to that poor 
 Viw Chadwick at iahle d'hote, I really felt bound to 
 make some amends to him.' 
 
 ' Is Mr. Chadwick the horrid man who would tjilk 
 to me down on the terrace ? ' 
 
 ' We have no right to condemn any fellow-creature 
 as horrid on so slight an acquaintance,' enunciated 
 ^Irs. Chevening. ' I often think we miss making 
 many pleasant and valuable friendships, Margot, simply 
 because we will be so exclusive.' 
 
 ' I thought I was so imprudent to encourage him — 
 not that I ever dreamed of such a thing — a little time 
 
 ago! 
 
 'That is very diflerent. 1 knew nothing of him
 
 A HIGH-HANDED PROCEEDING 35 
 
 then. I like him, Margot, I (.p.dte like him. Of course 
 one sees he is not just like other people, but a little 
 unconventionality is so refreshing. And he seems so 
 lonely here, it is only kind to take some notice of him.' 
 ' Well, you will see,' predicted Miss Chevening ; 
 ' you have raised him, dear, but you won't find it so 
 easy to lay him again — we shall be always seeing that 
 dreadful helmet bearing down on us now.' 
 
 ' I think,' said her mother with great dignity, ' you 
 may trust me to check any encroachment, and, let me 
 tell you, it is the worst possible style to adopt that 
 contemptuous tone. We are all made of the same 
 flesh, remember, all erring mortals — here to-day and 
 gone to-morrow.' 
 
 ' Ah, but he v:ont be gone to-morrow,' said Margot, 
 who did not relish the moralising turn of the conver- 
 sation ; ' he's waiting for his son.' 
 
 ' Did he tell you what the son was doing ? ' said Mrs. 
 Che^-ining — ' travelling about Normandy, seeing all the 
 old towns and great cathedrals — such a nice thing for a 
 young man to care about — seeing cathedrals — I think. 
 Shows such refined tastes. But then he has seen so 
 little of his father all these years.' 
 
 ' You evidently think that accounts for it,' remarked 
 Miss Chevening maliciously. 
 
 ' I did not say anything of the kind. Mr. Chadwick 
 is a very pleasant person in his way, but his son is 
 likely to have had more advantages in education and 
 traininsr — one so often sees that. He seems such an 
 affectionate father too.' 
 
 D 2
 
 36 THE PARIAH 
 
 'Is tlie sou Jiiarried as well, then?' said ^largot, 
 who happened to be in a provoking mood, 
 
 ' You are a little dull to-night, dear, — or is it only 
 inattentive ? Married ! why, he is quite a boy, twenty- 
 one or so.' 
 
 ' Boys of twenty-one or so do marry,' said Margot. 
 
 * Well, this one is -immarried, and I was of course 
 speaking of the father ; he is very proud of his son, 
 Margot, I could see.' 
 
 ' Is he ? ' was all Miss ]Margot could be induced to 
 reply, and the conversation dropped. Nevertheless she 
 retained an unpleasant impression of that tahle dliote ; it 
 had both puzzled and pained her that her mother's treat- 
 ment of the obnoxious Mr. Chadwick should have under- 
 gone so marked a change. She was angry, too, at the 
 complacency with which !Mrs. Chevening's advances had 
 been met, and the sudden and alarming development 
 from a mere table-dlwte conversation to an established 
 acquaintanceship. Mrs. Chevening, of course, had made 
 no allusion to her recent frigidity, striving rather to 
 render it speedily forgotten, and she had been only too 
 successful. Margot's pride was sorely wounded that 
 her mother had so compromised her dignity ; and though 
 she was at a loss to guess her motive, she knew in- 
 stinctively that it was very far from being mere good 
 nature or compassion. 
 
 Her presentiment that ^Ir. Chadwick would follow 
 up the advantage was amply fulfilled ; he stuck to them 
 during the next few days with a persistency that was 
 almost pathetic : they could go nowhere without the
 
 A HIGH-HANDED PROCEEDING 37 
 
 certainty of his turning up at some unexpected point, 
 and, much as Margot chafed under the infliction, her 
 mother endured and even encoui'aged it. 
 
 Under her »gis he gained admission into the 
 English set at the ' Californie,' and his social quarantine 
 was ended ; but he attached himself chiefly to Mrs. 
 Chevening, which had the effect of throwing Margot 
 very much, upon her own society. 
 
 It was on the third day of this unaccountable friend- 
 ship that her mother said, ' Margot, J\Ir. Chadwick is 
 very anxious that we should go over to Deauville Races 
 with him to-moiTow, it's the last day ; and he is ex- 
 pecting kis son this evening, so we shall be a party 
 of four.' 
 
 '• No, mother, really,' she protested ; ' I don't in the 
 least want to go — you must leave me out.' 
 
 ' Don't be childish, Margot — selfish I should say — 
 for if ifou won't go, I must stay here with you, of 
 course.' 
 
 ' I don't see why ; but surely a whole afternoon 
 without ]\Ir. Chadwick's companionship will be a little 
 half-holiday for us ? I know it will be so for me.' 
 
 ' It was most good-natured of him to wish us to 
 come with him, and I can't hurt his feelings by refusing. 
 Besides, I have promised for you.' 
 
 ' I wish you would tell me what there is about Mr. 
 Chadwick that you should encourage him as you do — 
 he seems to me a rather objectionable person. Surely, 
 mother, you must feel that he isn't — well, quite our 
 equal in some ways.'
 
 38 THE PARIAH 
 
 ' I detest that way of speaking,' said ]\rrs. Chevening 
 sharply. ' Are you aware that we are little better tbau 
 paupers ? ' 
 
 ' We are not too poor to choose our acquaintances, 
 surely. I own to preferring people who have an 
 average amount of refinement. You are generally more 
 exacting than I am.' 
 
 ' You choose to look down on poor Mr. Cliadwick 
 because he has not acquired a mere varnish of manner ; 
 you forget that he has spent his life under great dis- 
 advantages, Margot, and I see nothing so very unpre- 
 sentable about him, after all. But you need not see 
 more of him than you wish to-morrow, his son will be 
 there to amuse you.' 
 
 'If he is at all like his father, he will not amuse 
 me. Oh, mother, can't you see that I would very much 
 rather stay at home ! ' 
 
 ' I confess I don't understand you. I should have 
 thought a girl, especially one who has had so few 
 pleasures as you have, would be glad enough to go, for 
 the mere spectacle.' 
 
 Margot allowed this remark to pass in silence, though 
 there was the least little curl of disdain at the comers 
 of her full lips which sufficiently indicated her thoughts. 
 
 It was a chilly evening, and they were taking their 
 after-dinner coffee in the big entrance iiall, instead of 
 upon the terrace as usual. For once they were alone 
 together ; Mr. and Mrs. Spokcr were rocking on two 
 aAmerican chairs side by side at some distance, bicker- 
 ino- languidly ; J\Ir. AVhipple and Mr. Chadwick were
 
 A HIGH-HANDED PROCEEDING 39 
 
 smoking on the terrace below with turnecl-up collars ; 
 Mr. Liversedge, stretched at full length on one of the 
 divans opposite the Chevenings, was engrossed in the 
 workings of his digestive organs, and the rest of their 
 set were scattered in various directions about the 
 hotel. The foreign element was represented by the 
 stout couple who had scarcely breath enough for respi- 
 ration and none at all to devote to conversational 
 purposes, and by one dejected stranger who was pacing 
 monotonously up and down the matting. 
 
 ' Don't you think we might be going down to the 
 Casino ? ' said Margot at last ; ' they are at least awake 
 there.' 
 
 Mrs. Chevening assented, and they were about to 
 go up for hats and wraps, when the sharp jingle of 
 grelots was heard outside, and immediately afterwards 
 the great black and red omnibus of the hotel drew up 
 to the entrance, its lamps blazing in the dusk. 
 
 The gold-laced porter came out of his lair on one 
 side, the dignified manageress left her bureau on the 
 other, and prepared to receive the latest arrivals. 
 
 * Wait one moment,' said Mrs. Chevening ; ' I must 
 see who have come, and if they look as if they would be 
 at all nice.' 
 
 There was only one passenger in the omnibus, and 
 Margot could see him distinctly from where she was 
 sitting near the bureau. He was an Englishman evi- 
 dently, and young — a tall broad-shouldered fellow, with 
 close-cut curling dark hair, and strong, rather stern 
 features J a very favourable specimen of the young
 
 40 THE PARIAH 
 
 I]n<,'lishman wlioni a public school and university 
 training has turned out well both mentally and 
 physically. 
 
 ' ]\Ir. Chadwick on the terrace ? ' she heard him say. 
 ' Very well ; if you'll have my things taken up to my 
 room, I'll go and find him at once.' 
 
 He passed close to her with a brisk, easy step, and 
 her eyes followed him involuntarily, though he did not 
 appear to have noticed her. AVhere had he gained that 
 air of mingled power and refinement ? how did it come 
 that plebeian-looking Mr. Chadwick had a son like that ? 
 it upset Miss Cheveuing's views on descent, which were 
 of a decidedly conservative cast ; he must have inherited 
 his features and bearing from the mother's side, she 
 concluded. 
 
 ' I wonder,' said Mrs. Chevening, ' if that young man 
 could have been the son Mr. Chadwick is expecting.' 
 
 ' Which young man ? ' was the hypocritical re- 
 joinder; evidently Mrs. Chevening hud not overheard 
 him inquiring for Mr, Chadwick, and Margot did not 
 choose to enlighten her. But later in the evening, as 
 they were leaving the concert-room at the Casino, she 
 said, ' I suppose, after all, I had better go with you 
 to Deauville to-morrow, mother. I couldn't let you go 
 alone very well.' 
 
 ' I was sure you would be sensible about it, my 
 love,' said Mrs. Chevening ; ' and you will see you will 
 have a very pleasant afternoon, if you only make up 
 your mind to enjoy yourself.' 
 
 Margot smiled to herself; she was feeling tolerably
 
 A HIGH-HANDED PROCEEDING 41 
 
 certain that she would have no reason to complain of 
 boredom. 
 
 She stood some time at her open window that even- 
 ing, looking down on the Avide crescent of lights along 
 the plage^ with the green and red lanterns of the light- 
 houses on the pier and the electric haze above the 
 Casino, and it seemed as if the place were invested with 
 a new beauty for her, and she felt a dreamy pleasure in 
 listening for the long, languid roll of the waves as they 
 broke below in the silence. She did not care to analyse the 
 causes for this change — she despised school-girl sentiment, 
 and w^ould have felt something like shame in admitting 
 that a passing glimpse of a stranger could account for 
 this difference ; but nevertheless she found herself dwell- 
 ing with a vague anticipation upon the fact that she 
 would meet him on the morrow, and the probability 
 that she would see him rather frequently during the 
 next few days. There was something in his face which 
 had interested her at once ; he looked older by some 
 years than the age her mother had mentioned, an age 
 at which many are still raw and undeveloped boys. 
 Margot had met many of these latter at tennis parties 
 and dances, and never cared to perceive their open 
 admiration, but already she was anxious that this 
 acquaintance who was to be should not be totally in- 
 different to her. Her former antipathy to his father 
 seemed unreasonable, she was grateful to him for his 
 perseverance in cultivating them, and to her mother for 
 her absence of prejudice in suffering him. Had her own 
 wishes prevailed she would now have lost all chance
 
 42 THE PARIAH 
 
 of knowing the only man for whose acquaintance she 
 felt the slightest desire. 
 
 She awoke early next morning with the same vague 
 sense that something not disagreeable was about to 
 happen. The day promised to be a very hot one ; as 
 she looked out she saw a veil of pearly mist receding 
 from the waveless sea ; a fishing smack with a sky-blue 
 mainsail and red-ochre jib, repeated vividly in the glassy 
 water, had just been towed to the head of the jetty by a 
 string of fisherwomen, and was gliding gently out to sea. 
 The sands were almost bare as yet, though the boarded 
 promenade rang with the tramp of a few early risers. 
 She felt impatient to be out too, and about an hour 
 later, after the coffee and "peiH-fain which form one of 
 the little luxuries of continental life, Margot was on her 
 way across the planks, intending to walk through the 
 market while the morning was cool. She was used to 
 going about alone, and indeed would have had no 
 chance of obtaining the exercise she loved if she had 
 waited for her mother to accompany her. As she 
 walked on, feeling an increased exhilaration with every 
 breath of the pure morning air, she became a witness 
 of a little scene which roused her to sudden anger. 
 
 Immediately in front of her was a small French boy, 
 all striped collar and brown legs, who was being towed 
 along with little vicious jerks by his nurse, not a 
 bonne but a maiden from London, who had been en- 
 gaged, no doubt, ill order that the young gentleman 
 might acquire an English accent of the utmost purity.
 
 A HIGH-HANDED PROCEEDING 43 
 
 He was enjoying the fullest opportunities just then 
 of extending his vocabulary, and Margot could hear her 
 shrill rating some yards away. ' Oh, yes, indeed, it's 
 likely, ain't it, as I'm gowin' wherever you please, my 
 lord ? All the world's got to give way to a little grizzlin 
 bag o' bones like you, is it ? Well, 1 ain't goin' to be 
 at your beck and call, and so I tell you— you'll just go 
 wherever I want you to, and so you"d better make up 
 your mind to it — jear me ? ' 
 
 ' Good Maman said I may go attrapp the little 
 crevettes and ecrevisses, Suzanne.' 
 
 ' Oh, I dessay — but you won't trapp no crevats nor 
 yet no crevices to-day, so don't you put yourself out 
 expectin' it. I've trouble enough with you as it is, 
 without your messin' about with rocks and pools, I can 
 tell yer. You come and sit quiet on the sands along o' 
 me, and don't let me have none o' your contrariness, or 
 I'll make you remember it when I gets you 'ome, so 
 now ! ' 
 
 ' You are not good for me, Suzanne. And when 
 Maman comes, I shall tell it to her how you are not 
 gentille du tout du tout I ' 
 
 ' Tell tiles, will yer ? let me catch you making 
 complynts against me, that's all — yer nasty little dis- 
 agribble himp, yer ! ' And at this the nurse shook him 
 violently. 
 
 Now one of Miss Chevening's chaxacteristics was 
 a caste prejudice which, though seldom exhibited, was 
 almost as deeply rooted as a Brahmin's. She was never
 
 44 THE PARIAH 
 
 arrogant to dependents, but she looked upon them aa a 
 separate and inferior order, created for the convenience 
 of their superiors, and this girl's coarse tyranny seemed 
 to her an intolerable piece of presumption. She quick- 
 ened her pace and stopped the nurse imperiously. 
 ' How dare you speak in that insolent manner ? ' she 
 demanded. 
 
 She looked magnificent as she stood there, her 
 brows drawn to a line above her great hazel eyes, and 
 a brighter flush staining her cheeks ; the small boy 
 glanced up at her in awe and admiration, as at some 
 beautiful but hot-tempered angel who had flown down 
 impulsively to protect him. 
 
 The nurse was less likely to be impressed by 
 Margot's appearance, and tossed her head, remarking 
 pertly that she supposed she was not under any obliga- 
 tion to account for what she said to strangers. 
 
 ' You are under an obligation to treat your master's 
 child in a proper manner,' said Margot. 
 
 Susan belonged to a type of nursemaid which is still 
 not uncommon in London, as a stroll through Kensing- 
 ton Gardens may convince the sceptical at any time. 
 Violent-tempered, coarse in grain, with no understand- 
 ing of, if no actual dislike to children, she treated a 
 charge exactly as she might the little brother .Johnny 
 or Hilly she had dragged about the gutter in earlier 
 days ; her affection was as violent as her abuse, and she 
 wouhl have thought herself lowered by the least conces- 
 sion to a child's wishes. In ;ijipearance she was by no 
 means a bad-looking girl, with reddish huir, a hot-
 
 A HIGH-HANDED PROCEEDING 45 
 
 tempered expression, and a figure T>-liich, tbongh not 
 short, was clumsv. 
 
 ' It's likely as I'm to be made a slave of ty a baby 
 like that ! ' she cried. 
 
 '' It did not seem as if you were the slave from the 
 way you were talking,' said Miss Chevening with her 
 haughtiest air. ' You were certainly not engaged to 
 make a slave of him.' 
 
 ' Whatever I was engaged for, I don't require to be 
 taught my duties by you, miss,' said Susan. ' Come 
 along, Master Onree, and don't let's take no notice o' 
 what she says.' 
 
 ' You had better listen,' said Miss Chevening, ' and 
 you had better be civil. I am not at all sure that I 
 ought not to find out who your mistress is, and let her 
 know how her son is treated.' 
 
 Miss Susan's light eyes had no -^qt^ pleasant look 
 in them. At this threat, not being aware that the 
 speaker was the very last person to execute it, she 
 was subdued for the moment, however, and muttered 
 something about trying to do her duty, and hoping the 
 young lady would not make mischief 
 
 ' That will do,' said Margot. ' Little boy, what is 
 your name ? ' 
 
 The little boy, apparently dazzled by the lovely 
 imperious face that was bent down to his, made a little 
 shrinking movement towards his nurse. 
 
 ' He don"t take to strangers, miss,' said Susan ; 
 ' there, Onree, the young lady ain't cross with you, only 
 with poor Nana.'
 
 46 THE PARIAH 
 
 ' Listen, Henri,' said ]\rargot in French, ' if you 
 want to go shrimping, you shall ; you shall come and 
 catch crevettes with me,' and she held out her firm slim 
 hand to be taken. What induced her to make this 
 sudden proposition she could not have told ; whether it 
 was good-nature, or a perverse determination to conquer 
 the boy's affections, or the desire to teach this girl a 
 lesson, or all three combined. 
 
 * I'm not going to trust that child out of my sight 
 to please nobody,' declared Susan, who had caught the 
 tenor of the words. 
 
 ' I shall not ill-treat him at all events,' replied 
 Margot, ' but you can follow us if you choose. Henri, 
 you have a right to do what your mamma has given 
 permission for. Susan is only your servant, do you 
 understand ? You mustn't be a little chicken of a boy. 
 Have you got your net ? very well, then, now we'll 
 start.' 
 
 This little episode had an unseen hearer, for it had 
 taken place on the edge of the planks near a small 
 bathing shed, beside which sat a young man, who could 
 scarcely have avoided hearing all that passed unless he 
 had chosen to rise from his chair and walk away — 
 which, as the conversation was not of a ])rivate nature 
 and amused him, he saw no necessity to do. 
 
 The speakers themselves, however, were invisible to 
 him and he to them, and as their voices died away he 
 had the curiosity to get up and look after the figures 
 that were moving towards the rocks. 
 
 The girl's voice — sweet, high-bred, and high-spirited
 
 A HIGH-HANDED PROCEEDING 47 
 
 — had impressed him strongly ; the distant glimpse he 
 had of a slender tall figure appealed still further to his 
 imagination ; he wished he had been able to see her face. 
 Long after he had returned to his chair he was absorbed 
 in speculation as to what she would be like, whether he 
 should be able to recognise her if they met, and other 
 equally profitable subjects. 
 
 At last he could stay where he was no longer. 
 ' They must have got past the Eoches Noires by this 
 time,' he mused ; ' is the tide coming in or going out ? ' 
 He went up to one of the slates which give such infor- 
 mation — " Haute Maree, 10.45 a.m.," he read ; ' it's past 
 ten now. I wonder if they know that ? if not, this is 
 an awkward coast to be caught in. Suppose I stroll 
 that way — it can do no harm at all events.' 
 
 Miss Chevening had not gone very far with her 
 small iirotege before she found herself wondering what 
 had possessed her to take charge of him, and wishincr 
 very heartily that she had left him to his own devices. 
 Her fondness for children's society was largely de- 
 pendent upon their ability to entertain her ; little 
 Henri seemed still mistrustful of her intentions towards 
 him, which annoyed her, and, unlike French bovs in 
 general, he was painfully, obstinately shy. They 
 reached the Black Eocks, where tiny crabs, apple- 
 green, olive, and orange, scuttled across the ribbed 
 sand with the air of persons late for an important 
 appointment, but Henri showed no anxiety to capture 
 one, making way for them to pass, on the contrary, with
 
 48 THE PARIAH 
 
 courtesy. * Faitcs attention, Mademoiselle,' he would 
 cry, and squeeze her hand tightly, while the shrimps, 
 pellucid grey things that shot about in the pools or 
 buried themselves in Ijie sand, caused him a very 
 languid excitement. 
 
 ' Regardez-moi ces petites betes-la ! ' he exclaimed, 
 and even suggested, ' Dis done, si nous poussions ici le 
 filet ? ' but nothing would induce him to handle them 
 when they were hopping in the net — ' like jerky little 
 wet ghosts,' as Margot mentally likened them. 
 
 * You seem rather afraid of shrimps,' she remarked 
 at last, ' now you have come out to hunt them.' 
 
 * They are damp, and they skip d faire j^eur ! ' he 
 complained ; ' they are ugly,' 
 
 ' The crabs are pretty, at all events,' she said ; ' see if 
 you can catch one and bring it to me to look at.' He 
 ran after one, but soon dropped it in dismay. ' It is 
 not pretty — it pinches,' he announced with an injured 
 expression. 
 
 ' I think if I were you, Henri, I would hunt only 
 shells — they are quieter and not so dangerous, you know.' 
 
 ' Yes,' he agreed, much relieved ; ' and they are 
 really pretty. I will hunt shells.' 
 
 Margot began to find him wearisome ; Susan, too, 
 was a vexation to her — she stalked behind like a dis- 
 mounted Black Care, in a sulk which was sighted for a 
 long range. Miss Chevening ignored her entirely, but 
 she could not help being aware that she was there, and 
 noticing the propitiatory backward glances of her com- 
 panion.
 
 A HIGH-HANDED PROCEEDING 49 
 
 She exerted herself afresh to engage the boy's atten- 
 tion, for her self-love was concerned, but he would not 
 be won, and she grew disgusted at last. 
 
 ' It is not very polite of you, young man,' she said, 
 ' to keep turning from me to look at Susan ! ' 
 
 ' But she weeps ! ' 
 
 ' Fiddle-de-dee ! ' said Margot ; ' I forget the French 
 for that — but Susan isn't weeping, and what if she 
 were ? ' 
 
 ' She is angiy at me that I leave her, I am sure 
 of it.' 
 
 ' I believe you rather like being bullied after all. I 
 want to make you stick up for yourself — do you under- 
 stand that in English ? — no, of course you don't. 
 Kemember this, you are a little gentleman and Susan is 
 a servant ; her anger — unless you are naughty (and vou 
 are too much of a little sheep ever to be that,' said 
 Margot privately) — ' her anger is nothing to you. Do 
 you see ? ' 
 
 But he didn't see ; he knew better than Margot that 
 his nurse's temper made a considerable difference to 
 his comfort. ' Let me run and tell her that I love her 
 well' 
 
 ' Ah, I think you had better go back to her altogether 
 — you are a very nicely behaved little boy, but, do vou 
 know ? you are not amusing, so I'll give you up to vour 
 lawful guardian.' And she stopped for that injured 
 person to come up, who, seeing that she was beinw 
 waited for, lingered ostentatiously, with a show of deep 
 interest in the horizon. 
 
 VOL. I. E
 
 50 THE PARIAH 
 
 ' Susan,' said Miss Chevening, carrying off her sense 
 of defeat as well as she iniglit, ' Master Henri thinks 
 he would like to go back now, so perhaps you will have 
 tlie goodness to go with him, and treat hira more kindly 
 in future.' 
 
 But the child spoilt the whole effect of this admoni- 
 tion by running to the nurse and pulling her hand in 
 his impatience to be gone — a fact of which ]\Iiss Susan 
 was not slow to take advantage. ' He knows who his 
 friends are, you see, miss,' she said ; ' you don't go down 
 with him for all your high and mightiness, he's only 
 frightened of you. Never mind, Onree dear, the cross 
 young lady shan't have you — we'll leave her to herself.' 
 
 Margot did not deign to make any reply ; she turned 
 and continued her walk along the shore towards Viller- 
 ville ; she was angry at her failure, and a little down- 
 cast, too, but the salt air soon restored her serenity, as 
 she went swiftly on, with her eyes on the line of white 
 specks just visible above the curved dark blue sea, a 
 line which was all there was to indicate the port of 
 Havre. 
 
 Gradually she became aware of footsteps behind which 
 seemed hurrying to overtake her. Glancing up at the 
 low brown and green ciilFs on her right, she saw no 
 cabin or path in sight, but was too proud to look round 
 or betray any alarm at being followed in such a lonely 
 spot ; she had not heard that Trouville sands were at all 
 frequented by footpads, but she was not quite comfort- 
 able notwithstanding. 
 
 ' 1 had better face him, whatever he is,' she decided.
 
 A HIGH-HANDED PROCEEDING 51 
 
 and turned suddenly, when she found herself in the pre- 
 sence of the young man who had attracted her notice 
 the night before. She was angry that he should have 
 thought fit to force himself upon her like this, and her 
 face expressed its most chilling surprise. 
 
 ' I'm afraid you think me very officious,' he said, 
 ' but it struck me that you might not know that the tide 
 is coming in.' 
 
 She was instantly reassured by his manner, which 
 was merely that of a man who had put some pressure on 
 himself to hazard a caution. ' You mean, I ought to 
 turn back ? ' she said. 
 
 ' Of course,' he said, ' I don't know how soon you 
 wish to get back, but it is a long way up the cliff and 
 round by the road, and unless you turn at once you 
 won't be able to go back along the shore without having 
 some rather awkward rocks to climb.' 
 
 She thanked him and turned. ' But how are you 
 going to manage ? ' she asked, as he seemed about to 
 pass on. 
 
 ' Oh,' he said, ' I shall find a path up the cliff some- 
 where.' 
 
 ' I couldn't let you do that very well,' she said, 
 ' after you have come all this way to warn me ; you would 
 get back late then. And besides,' she added, ' I might 
 find it difficult to get round the Point alone.' 
 
 ' I shall be very pleased to go back with you if you 
 will allow me.' 
 
 She was not at all sure that she ought to have 
 suggested it ; but after all, as she told herself, she knew 
 
 B 2
 
 52 THE PARIAH 
 
 who he was ; he had behaved very nicely, and if tlie tide 
 reached the rocks round tho Point before she did she 
 would certainly be glad of some help. 
 
 ' Then I think you had better come,' she said care- 
 lessly.
 
 53 
 
 CHAPTEK lY 
 
 YOUNG MR. CHADWICK 
 
 So he walked on by her side, a privilege which he had 
 certainly not counted upon, but had obtained in a 
 perfectly legitimate way, since the risk, if slight, was 
 real enough. He was a little dazzled, notwithstanding, 
 now that he had seen her ; he had expected beauty of 
 the haughty aquiline type — this girl's spirited petulant 
 profile was almost childish in its outline save for the 
 rather ironical curve of the firm mouth and the decision 
 of the perfect chin. There was a frank directness, too, 
 in her manner, a calm unconsciousness which gave her a 
 singular charm ; she struck him as a piquant combina- 
 tion of inconsistent qualities. 
 
 'Your small French friend soon got tired of his 
 shrimping,' he began, by way of opening a conver- 
 sation. 
 
 Her eyes expanded. ' How did you come to know 
 anything about that ? ' she inquired. 
 
 He decided upon perfect frankness, though he 
 wished now that he had chosen any other topic. ' I 
 happened to be close by when you rescued him from his 
 nurse's clutches,' he said.
 
 54 THE PARIAH 
 
 His grey eyes had a subtlued twinkle in tlieni, with 
 which she vainly tried to feel offended. ' I can't think 
 what made me do it,' she said, * it must have seemed 
 perfectly absurd,' 
 
 ' It was rather a higli-hanek'd proceedijig, perhaps,' 
 he admitted, ' but, if you will let me tell you so, I 
 thought it was very kind of you to take the child's 
 part like that.' 
 
 ' To tell you the truth,' she said, ' I didn't think 
 about the child at all, it was that woman's insolence 
 which annoyed me so. I could not resist putting her 
 down.' 
 
 ' You gave the small boy a happy morning, at all 
 events,' he said. 
 
 ' I have not even that consolation,' she replied, with 
 a little sardonic grimace. ' I don't know which of us 
 was more relieved when we parted.' 
 
 ' And do you think he'll be better treated in 
 future ? ' 
 
 ' I really don t know. Probably not. I can't say I 
 feel very much interest — it was such a whining little 
 animal ! ' 
 
 For the moment he felt slightly repelled — there 
 was something rather heartless in this indifference of 
 hers. 
 
 ' Does that seem strange ? ' she added, laughing, 
 ' after interfering as I did. But I didn't know then 
 that he would look upon me as a kind of ogress, and be 
 longing to get back to his tyrant all the time. I shall 
 not rescue any more little boys. Don't let us talk about
 
 YOUNG MR. CHAD WICK 55 
 
 him any more. Do you know whether the races will 
 be worth seeing this afternoon ? ' 
 
 ' I really have no idea. Why ? Are you going ? ' 
 
 ' I dare say several people at the Californie will go,' 
 said Margot, 'and I believe we shall make up a party.' 
 She would not betray that she knew who he was, and 
 he evidently was not aware as yet of the proposed 
 expedition, 
 
 ' The Californie,' he said, ' that is my hotel.' Miss 
 Chevening was grateful to him for sparing her any 
 phrases de coiffeur on this coincidence. ' I arrived 
 alone last night. I had a friend, but he got out at 
 one of the stations, after a delay of twenty minutes, to 
 know how much longer the train was going to stop, 
 and while he was busy making inquiry at the bufiet, 
 the train satisfied his curiosity by going on without 
 him.' 
 
 Margot laughed, ' And is he there still ? ' she 
 inquired. 
 
 ' Oh no, he came on by a later train without any 
 further mishaps, rather to my surprise, for he does not 
 speak with tongues very fluently, and I quite expected 
 to hear of him turning up at Paris or Lyons or 
 Marseilles, or somewhere.' 
 
 It struck Margot that there was a certain repressed 
 contempt in his manner of speaking of this friend. 
 
 ' You were travelling companions till then, I sup- 
 pose,' she said ; ' was it pleasant ? ' 
 
 ' Pleasant ? oh well, yes, I suppose so — as pleasant 
 as could be expected," he said rather dryly.
 
 56 THE PARIAH 
 
 * You don't care much for the Continent ? ' 
 ' Oh yes, I do, only in this case — well, I'm glad it is 
 over, it was rather collar-work, and I did not quite know 
 what I was letting myself in for when I agreed to go 
 with him. But I've no right to bore you with all 
 this.' 
 
 He was not boring her by any means ; she liked his 
 cool manner, and the very tones of his voice were 
 pleasant to her ear ; there was no effort or attectation 
 about him ; he did not pose or fall into the ordinary 
 young man's mistake of tiying to be brilliant, but he 
 gave her the impression of a cultivated and rfither 
 fastidious nature, whose friendship once gained could 
 be depended upon. The more she saw of him, the 
 greater grew her wonder that he could have sprung 
 from such u parentage. 
 
 And so, before the walk was over, they were talking 
 gaily and intimately, more like old friends than a couple 
 whose acquaintanceship had been made in a highly 
 irregular manner during the last twenty minutes. 
 
 ' Here we are at the sea-wall,' he said at last ; ' and 
 I hope you won't accuse me of being an alarmist — 
 another five minutes, and we should certainly have had 
 to climb for it.' 
 
 ' As it is, we have not even got our feet wet,' said 
 Marmot ; ' I almost wish we had had a little more excite- 
 ment. But for one thing I am deeply grateful — that 
 the tide didn't come up while I was with that little 
 French boy and his nurse — I should have felt so very 
 foolish.'
 
 YOUNG MR. CHAD WICK 57 
 
 Privately he thought tliis a rather egotistic view of 
 the consequences. ' Yes,' she continued, ' 1 can fancy 
 how that nurse would have played Job's comforter, and 
 how that little boy would have let himself drown on 
 purpose. I do hate being humiliated ! ' 
 
 ' I suppose,* he said, ' we none of us exactly revel 
 m it. 
 
 ' I detest it more than most people,' she declared. 
 ' I would do almost anything rather than have to con- 
 fess myself in the wrong.' 
 
 He laughed. ' That is a very amiable trait in you,' 
 he observed. 
 
 ' I suppose I am not amiable,' she remarked calmly, 
 ' so perhaps it is better to warn you at once.' 
 
 ' I should be more alarmed, I dare say, if I had any 
 prospect of finding out how far the warning was justi- 
 fied,' he said lightly ; ' but I scarcely think I shall have 
 an opportunity of discovering even that in the time 
 I am here.' 
 
 Amiable or not, he was thinking, it would be diffi- 
 cult for her to do or say anything which would quite 
 destroy her charm ; very probably she was right in what 
 she said of herself ; in fact, he had already arrived at 
 very much the same conclusion from what he had seen 
 and heard. Wilful and ungracious and even heartless 
 she might be, but that would not prevent the recollec- 
 tion of the past half hour from stirring him strangely 
 whenever it rose to his mind. 
 
 ' We are close to the Californie now,' he said abruptly, 
 ' so I will say good-bye.'
 
 58 THE PARIAH 
 
 ' Evidently he lias no idea how soon we shall meet 
 again,' she reflected, with a little amusement, as she left 
 him, and she looked forward to enjoying his sur])rise 
 when he learnt that he might spend that afternoon, and 
 probably several more, in her society, if he cared to do 
 so. Tiiat he would so care, she felt assured ; that she 
 would be well-content was a point she was equally clear 
 upon. And so she came into her mother's room in the 
 highest good-humour. 
 
 ' You don't mean to say you have been out in this 
 hot sun all these hours ? ' said Mrs. Chevening ; you 
 will ruin your complexion, Margot, and your hands 
 too! ' 
 
 ' You know I never freckle,' said Margot, ' and as 
 for my hands — look ! ' 
 
 ' Well,' said Mrs. Chevening, not being able to 
 discover any fault in the pretty fair hands her daughter 
 extended, palms downward, in self defence, ' but you 
 ought not to be wandering about the town alone all the 
 morning,' 
 
 ' I was on the shore among the rocks, and 1 had 
 what ought to have been a romantic adventure — some 
 one came after me and told me it was dangerous to go 
 on and I ought to turn back, so he walked all the way 
 back with me.' 
 
 ' 1 thought you had :it Icust some sense of propriety ! ' 
 said Mrs. Chevening angrily; 'how can you do such 
 things, Margot ? What was he — who was he — how 
 did you come to allow it ? ' 
 
 ' 1 thought if the tide was really likely to cut me
 
 YOUNG MR. CHAD WICK 59 
 
 off, it would be as well to have somebody with me,' said 
 Margot, ' so I made him turn back too.' 
 
 ' You made him ? a stranger ! Do you know what 
 you are saying ? ' 
 
 ' He wasn't exactly a stranger — at least, I knew 
 him by sight ; he's staying at the hotel. He is Mr. 
 Chadwick's son.' 
 
 Mrs. Chevening's face, which had been a picture of 
 progressive horror, suddenly cleared as Margot made 
 this last announcement. 'You quite frightened me, 
 darling,' she said ; ' I was afraid it was somebody I knew 
 nothing about. Still, I wish you would not have these 
 adventures — you really must stay quietly with me in 
 future. Tell me about this young Mr. Chadwick — was 
 he pleasant, Margot ? ' 
 
 ' He is a gentleman, at all events,' said Margot ; 
 but her mother divined at once that he had made a 
 favourable impression. 
 
 ' Well, you had better put on your things now,' she 
 said. ' Did I tell you we don't lunch at table dlwte 
 to-day. Mr. Chadwick thought it would be pleasanter if 
 all lunched together a little later. That pretty surah we 
 frock of yours will do nicely, dear.' 
 
 ' How fortunately things have turned out ! ' reflected 
 Mrs. Chevening when alone ; ' and she is looking her 
 very best to-day ! ' 
 
 Margot took some little pains over her toilette, so 
 that it was slightly after the appointed time that she 
 came into the hall and was conducted by one of the 
 waiters into a large room opening into the salle a manger
 
 6o THE PARIAH 
 
 to a table which had been laid for four by one of the 
 windows, where Mr. Chadwick and her mother were 
 already seated. 
 
 'Well, young lady,' said her host, in liis usual ex- 
 uberant manner, ' I hope you've not brought a young 
 lady's appetite after your adventure. Your mother's 
 been telling me all about it. So my young rascal has 
 saved you from a watery grave, eh ? That's enough to 
 make him a public benefactor.' 
 
 ' It was very kind of him to warn me about turning 
 back,' said Margot, ' but I don't know that it was quite 
 a question of a watery grave.' 
 
 ' That's the way we look at the thing now it's over, 
 is it ? ' said ^^Ir. Chadwick, with a resentment which 
 showed itself through his boisterous geniality ; ' I dare 
 say by to-morrow you'll have quietly dropped him out 
 of the afiair altogether. Now,' — he was looking at the 
 wine list, — 'the first thing is — what will you ladies 
 like to drink ? I dare say you won't say no to some 
 champagne. Garfon, a bottle of that ; and look here, 
 j ust see if my son's lost his way, and tell him we're in 
 here, will you ? Oh, here he comes at last. Nice 
 manners, young fellow, nice manners — keeping ladies 
 waiting like this ! ' 
 
 Margot was sitting with her back to the big folding 
 doors which a waiter had just obsequiously thrown open, 
 and she kept her eyes upon her plate. She was won- 
 dering how the son would carry off the situation ; he 
 had seemed easy and self-possessed enough, but was he 
 able to keep his father in subjection without a painful
 
 YOUNG MR. CHAD WICK 6r 
 
 amonnt of friction ? — yes, she had confidence in him, 
 that luncheon would be tolerable now he was come. 
 
 The waiter drew back the chair next to hers with 
 the usual flourish, and not until it was taken did 
 Margot raise her eyes to welcome her neighbour. 
 
 As she did so, all her anticipations crumbled into 
 dust — the young man who sat at her side was an abso- 
 lute stranger. 
 
 That was bad enough, but it was not the worst ; 
 even the hasty glance she took revealed a person whom 
 the most charitable would hardly describe by the title 
 ' gentleman.' Insignificant-looking, with a white face, 
 hair parted in a plume, mouth open loosely from very 
 evident embarrassment, a blunt common nose like his 
 father's, Allen Chad wick seemed to her in that first 
 shock of utterly unexpected disappointment, the most 
 odious person she had ever been brought in contact 
 with. 
 
 The author, whose duty it is to see and describe from 
 a less prejudiced point of view than Miss Chevening 
 was capable of assuming just then, hastens to add that 
 this face was redeemed to some extent by a pair of eyes 
 which were deep and honest, with that pathetic look in 
 them of a dog that only asks to be tolerated. 
 
 ' Mrs. Chevening,' said his father, who evidently 
 was perfectly satisfied with his son's appearance, ' this 
 is my boy, Allen.' 
 
 Mrs. Chevening bowed graciously, whereupon Allen 
 rose, knocking over his chair, and came awkwardly 
 round to her, holding out his hand.
 
 62 THE PARIAH 
 
 She was startled for a moment, but regained pre- 
 sence of mind to shake the proffered hand, and sav, 
 ' Oh, how do you do ? You must let me thank you for 
 your gallantry to my heedless girl this morning.' 
 
 ' Eh ? ' said the unfortunate Allen. ' What irirl ' ' 
 
 M argot bit her under lip. ' Mother,' she said in a 
 low voice, ' I — I made a mistake — it was some one else 
 I met and took for Mr. Chadwick ! ' 
 
 ' Really, my dear,' said Mrs. Chevening, ' you make 
 mistakes which are extremely annoying for others — 
 pray sit down, Mr. Chadwick, and begin your lunch.' 
 
 ' So you're not the lucky man after all, Allen ? ' 
 said his father ; ' well, you'll have to make yourself all 
 the more agreeable — see if you can give the young lady 
 a glass of wine and drink to her better acquaintance. 
 Stop, do you know her or don't you ? I haven't got 
 that straight yet.' 
 
 ' She — she has the advantage of me at present,' said 
 Allen Chadwick. 
 
 Margot compelled herself to touch the hand he ex- 
 tended, and he spilt most of the champagne upon her 
 gloves, which lay by her plate. ' I'm sure I'm very 
 sorry, miss,' he stammered. 
 
 ;Mrs. Chevening was smiling with an expression of 
 suffering. ' Now we must leave Mr. Chadwick to enjoy 
 his sole in peace,' she said ; and he set to work in a 
 tentative manner with two foi'ks, which from nervous- 
 ness he seemed as little at home with as with a pair of 
 chf)p.sticks. 
 
 Margot sat like a statue of disdain ; she could hardly
 
 YOUNG MR. CHADWICK 63 
 
 bear to think yet of all that the reality implied. What 
 had become now of her bright hopes, the pleasant flutter 
 with which she had put on her prettiest frock for that 
 afternoon ? — all for the benefit of this uncouth, underbred 
 boy on her left hand ! And who was the stranger she 
 had rashly accepted as a Chadwick, and treated with 
 the less reserve as one she was certain to know under 
 any circumstances ? How was she to meet him now, 
 and what would he think of her ? She was angry with 
 herself, with her mother, with Mr. Chadwick, and most 
 of all with the unconscious and innocent Allen. 
 
 It was a most uncomfortable luncheon party ; a 
 couple of German waiters, one patronising, as if he had 
 paid for it all, the other morose, as if he expected to have 
 to do so, only added to young Chadwick's very evident 
 discomfort. Mrs. Chevening, who was in secret scarcely 
 less mortified than her daughter, did her best to pro- 
 mote conversation, and the giver of the feast alone was 
 easy and unembarrassed. He tried to draw his son 
 out, but the young man confined himself to mono- 
 syllables until the champagne loosed his tongue a little, 
 
 ' What's become of what's-his-name — Orme — by the 
 way?' asked the father. ' I told 'em to keep a place 
 for him at the regular dejeuner — know whether he went 
 in or not ? ' 
 
 ' I don't know,' said Allen ; ' I'm not in his confi- 
 dence. I haven't set eyes on him even to-day.' 
 
 ' Well, there was lunch all there for him, so he 
 might just as well have eaten it. Remind me to go 
 into accounts with him sometime to-day, and see what
 
 64 THE PARIAH 
 
 I've got to pay for your tour, young chap. Tliere's no 
 occasion for him to be staying on here — unless you 
 can't do without him.' 
 
 ' Oh, I can do without him well enough,' Allen 
 blurted out. 
 
 ' Orme's a travelling companion I engaged for him,' 
 explained his father, ' gentleman-like young chap — 
 college fellow, at the Bar, and all that. But, somehow 
 or other, he and my boy don't seem to have got on 
 together — eh, Allen ? ' 
 
 ' I never said so, governor, that I know of ; he 
 wasn't my style, that's all.' 
 
 ' I made up my mind you'd fallen out when he came 
 on alone last night ; youll be more careful how you get 
 out to stretch your legs another time ; it was a lucky 
 thing you were able to come on after all.' 
 
 Now jMargot knew how her mistake had arisen ; 
 her acquaintance of that morning must be this Mr. 
 Orme ; she could \\en understand now how far from 
 agreeable his travelling experiences must have been. 
 And he was about to be di.smissed like a common 
 courier — he was not thought fit to sit down to luncheon 
 with this polished pair ! She would most probably 
 never see him again, and Iwr heart hardened against 
 the person she considered responsible for this sudden 
 termination of all she had been looking forward to, 
 until, by the time the luncheon came to an end, she 
 regarded her unfortunate neighbour with absolute 
 antipathy. 
 
 ' If you ladies have any finishing touches to put to
 
 YOUNG MR. CHAD WICK 65 
 
 your toilettes,' said their host gracefully, ' you haven't 
 too much time. I told them to have the fiarker round at 
 two sharp, so you'd better be at the entrance by that.' 
 
 Margot's first proceeding was to discard the pretty 
 open-work hat she had been weai-ing, and put on the 
 plain boating-straw she adopted for everyday use ; she 
 could not escape going to Deauville now, or it would 
 seem as if — well, she must go, but she could not resist 
 indulging in this exhibition. 
 
 ' My dear child! ' cried her mother, as she discovered 
 the alteration, ' what possessed you to do such a thing 
 as that ? You were looking so nice before ! ' 
 
 ' This is quite good enough for the occasion,' said 
 Margot ; ' it really isn't safe to speak to me just now, 
 mother; such a very little would make me declare I 
 won't go at all.' 
 
 Mrs. Chevening looked at her face, and decided not 
 to press the point. ' I am sure you wouldn't put me in 
 such an unpleasant position as that at the very last 
 moment,' she said. ' I could wish myself that young 
 Mr, Chadwick had a little more manner, certainly, but 
 you must have patience with him, dear.' 
 
 ' I know,' said Margot. ' But what I simply can't 
 understand is why you ever brought yourself to associate 
 with such people at all. Was it worth crossing the 
 Channel to encumber ourselves with two Ohadwicks ? 
 They're not even decently mannered, they're not amus- 
 ing, and we shall never get rid of them any more as lono* 
 as we're here ! If you can see any pleasure in such a 
 prospect as that, I certainly can't pretend to follow you ! ' 
 
 VOL. I. F
 
 66 THE PARIAH 
 
 ' We shall gain nothing by discussing it now,' said 
 Mrs. Chevening, a little uncomfortably ; ' the elder Mr. 
 Chadwick is quite well-meaning, and I see nothing so 
 objectionable about him, at all events. I don't pretend 
 the son is all he might be — but no one, Margot, is with- 
 out his good qualities, if only one has patience to find 
 them out.' 
 
 ' As if 1 wanted to find any of his ! ' cried ^largot ; 
 ' but there — 1 promise to treat him as well as 1 can, 
 only I do think it is a little hard on me, you know ! ' 
 
 Down below, the two Chadwicks were strolling up 
 and down in front of the hotel. 
 
 ' Well,' said the father, ' you haven't sat down to 
 lunch often with a girl like that, I dare say.' 
 
 ' No, governor, I don't know that I have.' 
 
 ' And is that all you say, as if such girls as that 
 were as common as coppers ! Why, when I was your 
 age I should have found more to say for myself than 
 you did, I can tell you. You must make yourself more 
 agreeable if you're going to get on with the ladies, 
 young fellow ! ' 
 
 ' Well,' said Allen, ' I've not been used to ladies of 
 her sort.' 
 
 ' I know that ; but what you've got to do is to (jai 
 used. I give you the opportunity, it's for you to make 
 the best of it. Lord bless me ! a young chap of your age 
 ought not to be afraid of speaking up to a girl ; the 
 prettier she is, the more you should lay yourself out to 
 be agreeable,' 
 
 ' I shall never do it like you do,' said Allen.
 
 YOUNG MR. CHADWICK 67 
 
 ' You can try at all events. I've my reasons for 
 wanting to see you friends, and girls look for liveliness 
 and conversation ; you must make yourself more pleasant, 
 my boy ; bless you, it "s easy enougli.' 
 
 Perhaps Allen himself was a little encouraged by his 
 fathers confidence, but there was ample reason for mis- 
 givings as to his chances of finding any great favour in 
 the eyes of a young lady of Miss Chevening's fastidious- 
 ness. A young man of moderate abilities whom a cheap 
 commercial education has just enabled to occupy a 
 clerk's desk in a warehouseman's ofiice, whose home-life 
 has been colourless and mean, and his pleasures such as 
 may be expected when mind and purse are equally ill- 
 furnished, is at some social disadvantage, even when he 
 has good looks and a glib tongue on his side, which 
 Allen could not be said to possess. 
 
 From his mother, who had died in his infancy, he 
 inherited a yielding and subservient disposition, which 
 made him accept the monotony and drudgery of his 
 early life without complaint ; he lived with his mother's 
 sister, a widow who kept a small shop in a back street, 
 and who, kind as she was in her narrow way, had not 
 been able to make the little parlour behind the shop a 
 very attractive place wherein to pass his evenings. So 
 he had gradually drifted into the amusements and re- 
 sorts of his class, so far as he could afford them, though 
 he had no actual predisposition to dissipation, and his 
 excesses hitherto had been rare and venial enough, con- 
 sidering the nature of his surroundings. He was not 
 without a feeling for the beautiful, though he had always 
 
 F 2
 
 68 THE PARIAH 
 
 looked on it from afar, as something in wliich, by the 
 nature of things, he had and could have no part. 
 Sometimes when he read the second-hand novels which, 
 borrowed from a bookstall a few doors off, formed his 
 only literature, he felt a vague discontent as he faintly 
 realised a world of refinement, a society of beautiful 
 women and accomplished men, but it was too great a 
 stretch for his imagination ever to conceive himself as 
 the hero of these romances ; tawdry and fustian as most 
 of them were, they smote him notwithstanding with the 
 sense of his own insignificance. 
 
 And the cravings for something higher, some element 
 of romance or passion, to ennoble his sordid existence 
 were always inarticulate, half-unconscious, and would in 
 the course of time have died a natural death, or found 
 satisfaction in some makeshift attachment ending in an 
 imprudent early marriage, disenchantment, and a life- 
 long struggle for bare existence — had not fate intervened 
 in the most unexpected manner. 
 
 He knew that he had a father out in India in some 
 capacity ; his aunt from time to time received scanty 
 remittances which defrayed his school and maintenance 
 until he was old enough to earn his own living, when 
 thev ceased, and he had been informed that his father 
 could do little or nothing for hira in the future. Of his 
 grandfather he had never heard, for his aunt cherished 
 a deep resentment on account of the treatment her 
 sister had met with, and so the great change in Allen's 
 life had come upon him with the dazzling surprise of a 
 fairy tale.
 
 YOUNG MR. CHAD WICK 69 
 
 He liad come back from the office tired and cold one 
 snowy evening in January to supper, and in the little 
 parlour behind the shop he found a stranger, so pros- 
 perous and generally splendid in his appearance that 
 Allen hardly believed his ears when he was told that this 
 was the father he had been accustomed to regard as a 
 struggling exile. 
 
 The elder Chadwick was a little touched by the son's 
 evident admiration ; he felt some compunction for 
 having done so little for him hitherto, his heart warmed 
 with old memories of the dead wife, whose timid, grateful 
 eyes looked at him once more from his son's pale face ; 
 from that moment father and son became more united 
 than if they had always lived together instead of meeting 
 then for the first time. 
 
 And Allen learnt the wonderful news that, thanks 
 to the tardy repentance of the grandfather, his old life 
 was ended for ever ; he was to go and live in luxury 
 and splendour with his father in future, down at the 
 country place in Pineshire, where the old man had 
 ended his lonely days. 
 
 At first he had felt strange and bewildered under 
 these new conditions, but he soon became at ease with 
 his father, whom he regarded with ardent gratitude 
 and something very like reverence. In the son's eyes 
 Joshua Chadwick, with his florid manner, his Indian 
 experiences, and rough good-nature, seemed a superior 
 being, by whose confidence and companionship he felt 
 more than honoured. And the elder was satisfied with 
 his son on the whole ; the boy was not over bright.
 
 JO THE rARIAH 
 
 perhaps, lio reflected, but he would improve, he wanted 
 a little travel to give him a polish ; and so. towards the 
 end of tlie summer, Allen was sent abroad with a 
 young man, whom his father, too mucli occupied 
 by his aft'airs to accompany him immediately, had 
 engaged to act as Mentor, until he was able to join 
 him. 
 
 Nugent Orme had accepted the post, as the fee offered 
 was a handsome one ; he needed funds, and his chance 
 of professional work was not good enough to keep him 
 in chambers for the whole of the Long Vacation. 
 
 The enofagfement had been made bv letter, and it 
 was not until everything had been an-anged that he 
 had a personal interview with his charge, when he felt 
 a shock of dismay at the task he had undertaken. He 
 had been prepared for some wild young fellow, fresh 
 from a public school or newly rusticated, who would 
 need a firm hand, but with whom he would have some- 
 thing in common, of whom he would have no cause to 
 l)e constantly ashamed. With Allen Chad\vick he 
 found himself from the very first hopelessly out of 
 touch ; the young man was awkward, constrained, and, 
 as it seemed, sulkily reserved with his leader. He 
 appeared to have no tastes, no preferences, no interests ; 
 he acquiesced wlicn Orme proposed that they should 
 finish their tour by exploring some of the old Norman 
 cities and towns ; but the carven glories of Rouen, the 
 stately abbeys of Caen, the cathedral of Beauvais rising 
 in splendid incompleteness high above the clustered 
 red roofs ; St, Lo, with its twin grey spires and sleepy
 
 YOUNG MR. CHAD WICK 71 
 
 old square and streets, and Coutances, enthroned on 
 its poplar covered hill, seemed equally powerless to 
 draw the slightest sign of interest or appreciation from 
 this young Chadwick. Such remarks as he made only 
 confirmed Orme in the contempt he felt for this barren 
 and stunted intelligence. 
 
 It cost Orme a positive struggle sometimes to keep 
 his impatience and dislike from appearing too plainly 
 under the constant irritant of such a companion, and 
 involuntarily and without his knowledge something of 
 his feeling showed itself in his manner occasionally. 
 He welcomed the end of his ta,sk with a relief which he 
 believed was fully shared by his fellow-traveller, but in 
 this he was entirely mistaken. 
 
 Allen Chadwick was secretly dreading the moment 
 of separation ; he had been drawn towards Orme from 
 the very first, and had long cherished the hope that 
 before the tour was over the distance between them 
 might be removed. To Allen this young man, only a 
 few years his senior, with the fine clear-cut face and 
 pleasantly incisive voice, the easy bearing and air of 
 unconscious superiority, was a revelation. Orme was 
 his hero, and could have made him happy at any time 
 by a word or smile that spoke of real friendship and 
 sympathy ; but he waited for them in vain. 
 
 Orme never snubbed him, but, as has been said, he 
 could not always disguise his repugnance, though it 
 never occurred to him that this was perceived ; nor 
 would he in any case have given Allen credit for enough 
 sensitiveness to be pained by such a thing. Neverthe-
 
 72 THE PARIAH 
 
 less Allen diil perceive it, and felt it acutely, although 
 he hid his feelings characteristically under a mask of 
 sullen reserve. He even tried to cherish a bitter resent- 
 ment against Orme, and think of him as a stuck-up 
 swell who gave himself airs because he had been to 
 college. AVliat was he, after all, but a paid dependent ? 
 And then Allen would be as nearly insolent as he dared, 
 which is saying little enough, and would writhe under 
 his senior's utter indifference. 
 
 Orme noticed with a contemptuous amusement these 
 feeble attempts at self-assertion : what he never suspected 
 was the heart-ache that underlay them ; he looked 
 upon his charge as a hopeless cub in whom there was 
 nothing worth understanding ; he did his duty in keep- 
 ing him out of mischief, and he was conscientiously 
 civil to him — more than that he did not think could be 
 expected from him. 
 
 Allen had been very depressed now that the tour 
 was over, and the friendship he coveted further out 
 of reach than ever ; but, as he waited with his father 
 before the hotel, Ormes approaching departure was far 
 enough away from his mind. He could think of no- 
 thing just then but Miss Chevening, remember nothing 
 but the fact that in a few minutes he was to see her 
 again, that he was actually about to spend the whole 
 afternoon with her. She had awakened all the latent 
 romance in him, so long starved and denied an outlet ; 
 he would have given all he was worth to be of some 
 slight sendee to her, to earn her gratitude in some 
 unfonnulated manner; he was eager to give her a more
 
 YOUNG MR. CHAD WICK 73 
 
 favourable impression of himself, and no suspicion of 
 his own grotesqueness in relation to her crossed his 
 mind. 
 
 And yet, while he was secretly thrilling with a 
 delicious excitement, he remained to outward observa- 
 tion the same dull, uncouth, and hopelessly uninterest- 
 ing young man ; his father did not guess the reason for 
 his abstracted silence, and Allen was quite incapable 
 of translating into words the impression Margot had 
 made upon him, even if he had not shrunk instinctively 
 from confiding it to anvone. 
 
 Presently she appeared with her mother, and he 
 could not find any words to address to her. She seemed, 
 he thought, displeased at something as she stood there ; 
 but it onlv made her look lovelier. 
 
 He did not speak even when the fiacre started, and 
 they were all four driving, with the usual French ac- 
 companiment of whip-cracking, strange cries and jing- 
 ling bells, down the street, and along the quay, with 
 its row of yellowing limes, cafes, and masts. Margot 
 sat opposite to liim, but he could not see her eyes for 
 the sunshade which she had opened, apparently not 
 finding the white canvas awning above the vehicle a 
 sufiicient protection ; she was very silent, but Allen 
 was content to look at as much of her face as was visible, 
 until his father, who had been carrying on all the con- 
 versation with Mrs. Chevening, gave him an admonitory 
 touch wdth his elbow, intended to remind him of his 
 recent counsels. 
 
 Allen turned crimson, but managed, after clearing
 
 74 THE PARIAH 
 
 his throat, to got out, ' We shall have it broiling Lot on 
 the course, by all appearances ? ' 
 
 The sunshade was slightly raised, revealing her eyes 
 with a kind of haughty surprise in them. * Were you 
 speaking to me ? ' she asked ; ' I didn't catch what you 
 said — I beg your pardon.' 
 
 'Oh, it's granted, miss, I'm sure,' said poor Allen. 
 It is difficult to understand, perhaps, why this form of 
 accepting an apology — a far more logical and reasonable 
 reply than the conventional ' not at all ' — should stamp 
 its utterer as one of the baser sort, but that it has that 
 effect is undeniable. Miss Chevenings pretty eyebrows 
 were raised a little higher, her expressive mouth took a 
 downward curve. ' I was only saying, and I hope I 
 didn't interrupt you, miss,' he went on, ' that it looked 
 like turning out a broiling hot afternoon.' 
 
 ' Oh,' said Margot, ' yes, it does not promise very 
 well at present.' And the sunshade descended again, 
 this time concealing the whole of her face. 
 
 ' She's busy thinking over something,' he concluded. 
 
 She was thinking, truly enough, and the dainty 
 screen hid a quiver of passionate indignation. ' How 
 can mother expose me to this — how can she ?' ran the 
 burden of her thoughts. 
 
 The afternoon did not promise well indeed.
 
 75 
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 VALENTINE AND ORSON 
 
 She mutter'd ' I have lighted on a fool, 
 Eaw, yet so stale ! ' — PeUeas and Etta/i-re. 
 
 Over a bridge and the glittering tidal river, past the 
 railway station and its lines of dingy rolling-stock, 
 along; a broad thoroufyhfare, a region chieflv of factories 
 and workshops, the fiacre jingled in the stream of 
 vehicles and foot-passengers, till it turned abruptly 
 down a lane and in at a gate, where two nuns stood 
 beseeching alms, and presently, after lurching and 
 pitching over the turf, the carriage drew up along the 
 railings near the winning-post. The variety of costume ; 
 the little gardes municiimles in theu' green tunics and 
 light-blue trousers ; the blouses of the men, the white 
 caps of the women, the tricornes and yellow belts of 
 the gendarmes, the troopers in wide cherry-coloured 
 breeches, the cures in furry broad-brimmed hats, all 
 gave an animation and shifting colour to the crowd, 
 which was as naively pleased with itself and the spectacle 
 provided as French crowds generally are on gala occa- 
 sions. The fashionable and sporting contingent from 
 Deauville was scantily represented, it being the last and 
 least important day of the racing week. Mr. Chadwick's
 
 76 THE PARIAH 
 
 hired fly was one of tlie few vehicles on the ground. 
 The steeplechase course would not have commanded 
 much respect at Sandown, and the temper of a sentinel 
 wlio stood guard over the highest hedge was severely- 
 tried by the behaviour of a small boy, who lea]icd it 
 several times in a Remus-like spirit of derision. 
 
 ' I think I will stay in the carriage,' said Mrs. 
 Chevening, ' but there's really no reason why you should 
 be a prisoner, Margot, dear, if Mr. Allen Chadwick will 
 kindly take charge of you.' 
 
 ' If you'd like to take a turn, I'll take care of you 
 with pleasure, miss,' said Allen. 
 
 Margot had her own reasons for consenting, and as 
 soon as Allen and she were at some distance from the 
 carriage she began : ' Oli, Mr. Chadwick, there is one 
 thing I really must ask of you.' 
 
 ' You've only to name it,' said Allen, and his heart 
 throbbed. Was he to do her a favour already ? 
 
 ' It's only a trifle, no doubt,' she said, ' but I really 
 cannot let you speak to me as miss.' 
 
 ' I didn't know you would like to be familiar all at 
 once,' he said. 
 
 She shivered. ' You don't quite understand — we are 
 not likely ever to be intimate, but — but we may meet 
 occasionally here, and it is not necessary or usual to use 
 any title or name at all. Y(mi may call me Miss 
 Chevening if you like, but not miss — if you do, I 
 shall not answer. Do you think you can remember 
 that?' 
 
 ' Yes, Miss Chevening,' he said ; < I'm sure I'm only
 
 VALENTINE AND ORSON 77 
 
 anxious to do the correct thing, but you see, Miss — 
 Miss Chevening, it's like this, I ' 
 
 ' Oh, please — not any explanations ! ' she said hastily, 
 ' I quite understand — and now, tell me, does your father 
 mean to stay here any time ? ' 
 
 ' I promise you I shan't do anything to hurry him,' 
 said Allen ; ' this is a regular jolly place, little as I've 
 seen of it, always something going on — it's like Yar- 
 mouth for that. There's nothing to do in all those 
 old Cathedral places Orme would potter about in, and 
 precious little to see.' 
 
 ' Your friend Mr. Orme seems to have rather dif- 
 ferent tastes from yours ? ' observed Margot. 
 
 ' He's no friend of mine,' said Allen awkwardly ; ' I 
 can do without his friendship well enough.' 
 
 ' Is Mr. Orme the sort of person you can't bring 
 yourself to associate with, then ? ' said Margot. ' Poor 
 Mr. Orme ! ' 
 
 ' It's him that holds off — not me,' said Allen ; ' not 
 that he hurts me by it. I'm off his hands now, anyhow, 
 and that's a blessing for both parties ! ' 
 
 ' And has this Mr. Orme left Trouville, then ? ' asked 
 Margot carelessly. 
 
 * He's got to settle up with the guv'nor first — he'll 
 go as soon as he can — to-morrow most likely. He 
 doesn't want more of me than he can help ! ' said Allen, 
 with a forced laugh. 
 
 ' Perhaps,' said Margot, ' you have not taken any 
 pains to be pleasant to him.' (' I won't have Mr. Orme 
 driven out of Trouville by this boor, if I can prevent
 
 78 THE PARIAH 
 
 it,' she was thinking. ' I wonder if I could prevent 
 it.') 
 
 ' ^luch he cared whether I was pleasant or not ! ' 
 Faid Allen ; ' but there, Miss Chevening, don't let's talk 
 about him. I've given up minding all that now — hei'e 
 are the horses coming out.' 
 
 ]\Iargot could say nothing more, and she detested 
 him more cordially than ever at that moment; she was 
 ill a mood to hate everything just then, in her chagrin 
 at the cruel trick that had been played upon her; 
 and having nobody to blame but herself, she naturally 
 felt disposed to quarrel with everybody else. 
 
 The horses came out, a string of weedy long-tailed 
 and long-legged screws, to most of whom the candid 
 statement placed against two or three names on the 
 official race-card, ' origine inconniie,' seemed equally 
 aiiplicable ; but their appearance caused a flutter of 
 excitement in the crowd, and such admiring comments 
 as ' Vuilii le proprietaire lui-meme qui monte ! ' ' C'est une 
 belle bete tout de meme.' ' Tenez, ^-a ne sera pas 
 content de trotter, lui ! ' 
 
 It was not a'very thrilling event perhaps, this course 
 mi trot moiite, though with any other coni])anion Margot 
 might have found some amusement in the spectacle of 
 some half-dozen French gentlemen of various degrees 
 of corpulence going round and round the track at a 
 hard trot which degenerated into a gallop at intervals ; 
 the favourite came in last, and an ill-conditioned dog 
 added to his jockey's humiliation by yelping derisively 
 after his horse's heelii. ' II n'est pas mouille du tout ;
 
 VALENTINE AND ORSON 79 
 
 il n'a pas ete pousse ! ' said the bystanders, in charitable 
 excuse for his defeat ; ' Fallait se servir de la cravache, 
 vous savez.' 
 
 Margot was just about to suggest a return to the 
 carriage when, as she glanced listlessly round, she saw 
 her friend of the beach some yards away. Would he see 
 her? Even if he did, she remembered, he could not well 
 do more than return her bow — at least she would bow to 
 him. But he did not once look round, he stood there 
 alone, and she could not help thinking how handsome 
 and manlv he looked, what a contrast he made to this 
 little monstrosity at her side. It was exasperating 
 to know that he was going away in a few hours, 
 while the other, her heie noire, would remain. She was 
 powerless ; even if they met in the little time that was 
 left, what chance would there be of renewing that 
 pleasant conversation by the sea-shore ? She knew 
 very well how it would be, they would not even meet 
 at table d'hote, for she would doubtless be condemned 
 to form one of that quartette of the morning — he would 
 go away without ever having leamt her name. 
 
 ' You were asking me about Orme just now,' said 
 Allen ; ' if you want to know what he's like, that's him 
 over there.' 
 
 ' Where ? ' said Margot, with well-acted indifference ; 
 and when she did at last succeed in looking in the 
 direction Allen mentioned, she said, ' So that is 
 IMr. Orme ! Don't you think he looks a little lonely 
 all by himself — oughtn't you to go and speak to 
 him?
 
 So THE r ARIA II 
 
 • lie's not lonely,' said Allen ; ' he wouldn't thank 
 nie for speaking to him, I can tell you ! ' 
 
 ' I see,' said Margot, ' it wouldn't do for you to take 
 any notice of a mere tutor, even though nobody here 
 would know anything about it. 1 dare say you are 
 quite right, but it seems a little curious.' 
 
 He flushed. ' It — it isn't tlud,' he said, ' it's Orme 
 that's the one to look down. And I can't go and speak 
 to him while I'm with you.' 
 
 Margot's heart was beating a little quicker than usual ; 
 she felt desperate. After all, Allen was not likely to see 
 anything unusual in what she was anxious to lead up to. 
 
 ' If I am the only impediment,' she said lightly, 
 ' that can easily be settled. You can bring him up 
 and introduce him to me if you like.' 
 
 ' Do you want me to ? ' asked Allen, hesitating ; he 
 clearly did not welcome the suggestion with any en- 
 thusiasm. 
 
 ' I said — if you liked,' repeated Margot, a little im- 
 patiently. ' I think,' she added with a slight smile, ' he 
 will appreciate such an attention on your part.' 
 
 ' He mayn't care about coming — he's a queer sort of 
 chap,' said Allen ; ' and — and what ought I to say to 
 him ? ' 
 
 ' Don't you really know how such a thing is usually 
 managed, Mr. Chadwick ? ' exclaimed Margot, feeling 
 angrier with him for emphasising her humiliation in 
 this way. ' Surely you can say that you want to in- 
 troduce him to a friend of yours ; it is not a very com- 
 plicated operation, I should have imagined.'
 
 VALENTINE AND ORSON 8 1 
 
 ' I've never done it before,' confessed Allen humbly 
 ' but I'll go and tell him that.' 
 
 ' If only,' Miss Chevening meditated, ' if only he 
 doesn't make some terrible mess of it — it will serve 
 me right perhaps, though, if he does ! ' 
 
 Nugent Orme was abandoning himself to the sur- 
 roundings, listening to the cries of the women who 
 were inviting speculators to take a one-franc ticket in 
 their ' poule,' of the small boys crying ' Demandez le 
 Jockey du Jour ! ' with a shrill and yet not unmusical 
 intonation, and the chorus from the bookmakers' quarter 
 of ' Un et demi le champ ! ' ' Egalite le champ ! ' 'La 
 place d'Emidoff!' and similar sporting technicalities, 
 when he felt his arm touched, and turned to find Allen, 
 with a very red face, standing at his side. 
 
 ' 'UUo ! ' said Allen clumsily, ' I— I didn't think I 
 should see you here.' 
 
 ' No reason why you shouldn't, is there ? ' replied 
 Orme. 
 
 ' No,' said Allen, ' only I didn't. And I say ' 
 
 ' Well, what is it ? ' asked Orme, as he stopped in 
 confusion. 
 
 ' If you don't mind, I — I want to introduce you to 
 a girl I'm with. Its that one over there.' 
 
 Orme's face, which had begun to wear a curious 
 expression, changed as his eyes fell on Miss Chevening's 
 graceful figure, which he recognised at once, though he 
 could not conceive how Allen had managed to make 
 her acquaintance. She was looking idly away just 
 then, and seemed so little aware of either of them 
 VOL. I. G
 
 82 THE PARI AH 
 
 that he checked himself in his acceptance of the intro- 
 duction. 
 
 ' Did voLi ask her ? ' he said, feelingr no confidence 
 in his pupils social proficiency ; ' are you sure she wishes 
 it ? ' He was too proud, much as he wished it himself, 
 to run any risk of appearing to force himself upon 
 her notice, especially with such a sponsor as poor 
 Chadwick. 
 
 ' It's all riglit,' said Allen ; ' I told her who you were 
 — she said I might do it if I liked.' 
 
 Allen brought him up to her, but here he broke 
 down, and could only blurt out, ' This is Orme.' 
 
 Margot was quite at her ease as she laughed and 
 said, ' After all, Mr. Chadwick leaves me to introduce 
 myself, Mr. Orme. I am Miss Chevening. Mr. Chad- 
 wick thought you might be feeling a little solitary in 
 the crowd, but perhaps you are one of those people 
 who never do feel solitary anywhere ? ' 
 
 ' On tlie contrary,' he said smiling, ' I am deeply 
 grateful to him.' And he put his hand on Allen's 
 shoulder for a moment with a friendliness which made 
 the young man flush with pride and pleasure. 
 
 Margot had her wish after all; she had met this 
 Mr. Orme once more, and the afternoon was not quite 
 a failure. Still it was irksome to lier to have Allen 
 standing by, listening to every word that was said with 
 what she chose to consider a mean iuquisitiveness ; 
 in reality, he was only wondering, with a dash of envy, 
 at the alteration in her tone whicli Orme's presence 
 aeemed to have produced.
 
 VALENTINE AND ORSON 83 
 
 Orrne himself was on his guard ; he was cool ami 
 cautious by disposition, and he did not intend to allow 
 his head to be turned by the fact that Miss Chevening 
 thought fit to show him a marked graciousness. He could 
 not come to any decided conclusion about her as yet ; 
 for all he could tell that curiously fascinating manner 
 of hers — with its abruptness, its candour, its simplicity 
 varied by touches of irony — might be that of a con- 
 summate flirt. He was not sure whether in his heart he 
 approved of her, but he felt the charm of her neverthe- 
 less. She interested him strangely, more than anyone 
 he had ever met — this slender, imperious girl, with the 
 hazel eyes and the gleam of bronze in her soft hair ; but 
 he must resist her, since he was going away next day, 
 and her true character, simple or complex, w^ould 
 always remain a sealed book for him. 
 
 ' What is the next race ? ' she said ; ' a\h trot attele. 
 I wish I knew which horse was the favourite — it makes 
 it a little more exciting. Mr. Chadwick, I'm sure you 
 know all about racing — which is the favourite ? ' 
 
 Allen had been to Hampton once, and had seen 
 some races at the Alexandra Palace, besides betting 
 with fellow-clerks to a greater extent than he could 
 always afford, so this appeal naturally flattered him. 
 ' That's more than I can tell you just now,' he said ; ' but 
 we might go over to the bookmakers, and I could pick 
 up something from them, I daresay. Would you like 
 to be put on to anything for this race ? I shall be proud 
 of the job, I assure you.' 
 
 ' Thank you,' said Margot, ' I don't bet, and I don't 
 
 o 2
 
 84 THE PARI AH 
 
 care to go amongst those shouting men on the pedestals. 
 1 only wanted to know which is the favourite, if you 
 could find out for me.' 
 
 Allen was transported by her tone and the smile 
 which she gave him. ' I'll find out somehow,' he said, 
 * though I'm not much good at their lingo. I may,' he 
 added, with a flourish, ' do something on my own 
 account.' 
 
 He went away, highly pleased at his commission, 
 and when he had disappeared in the crowd !Margot 
 turned to her companion with a smile. 
 
 ' I think I can understand now,' she said, ' why you 
 did not find your tour particularly pleasant.' 
 
 He had, of course, made no allusion as yet to their 
 previous meeting, and in the altered state of his feeling 
 towards Allen her smile, taken in connection with his 
 willingness to please her, seemed slightly cruel. ' I 
 had no right to imply that,' he said ; ' I'm afraid it was 
 a good deal my fault if we did not get on.' 
 
 ' No, it was not,' she declared ; ' how could you do 
 more than tolerate such a creature ? I have only had 
 
 to suffer him for two or three hours, but even that 
 
 You must be feeling very glad you are going so soon. 
 He told me you were leaving to-morrow.' 
 
 'I am leaving to-morrow,' he said a little sadly, 
 ' but I am not certain that I am glad.' 
 
 She would not have believed it, but he was not 
 thinking so much of her as of his pupil just then. 
 Something had been revealed to him within the last 
 half-hour which gave him a pang of self-reproach ; he
 
 VALENTINE AND ORSON 85 
 
 had begun to doubt whether he had been altogether just 
 towards his late companion, had not been too quick to 
 despise him, too blinded bj social prejudices to see such 
 good points as he had. His conscience troubled him a 
 little, and he was generous enough to be pained at the 
 suspicion of having repelled his pupil's timid and 
 awkward advances all this time. It was too late now 
 to make amends, but he reproached himself for having 
 been so blinded by prejudice. 
 
 Margot, necessarily in ignorance of all this, was 
 well satisfied that he should be sorry to leave Trouville ; 
 of course, although he could not say so in so many 
 words, there could only be one reason why he should 
 regret it. 
 
 ' I should be only too delighted if wq were leaving 
 to-morrow,' she said, ' but I suppose I shall be con- 
 demned to many more days of the society of Mr. Chad- 
 wick and his interesting son. The hotel was not wildly 
 amusing: before — but now ! ' And she broke off with a 
 little grimace of disgust which seemed charming on her 
 brilliant face. 
 
 Orme laughed ; the Chadwicks did seem a curious 
 pair to be in companionship with her ; he was not alto- 
 gether proof against the flattery implied in this confes- 
 sion of dislike for another. ' I daresay you will find 
 means to avenge yourself,' he said. 
 
 ' I am not very patient when I'm bored,' she con- 
 fessed, ' especially by persons of that class. Do you 
 know, Mr. Orme, I must tell you — though you will not 
 consider it a compliment — when we met this morning
 
 86 THE PARIAH 
 
 T thought ynn were ^Ir. Chaflwick's son. I did ; I 
 thought you were going to be here some time, instead 
 of being on your way home.' 
 
 'I wish that had been true,' he said ; 'the latter part 
 of it, at least.' 
 
 ' If you had not put that in,' she observed, ' I should 
 not have believed you — nobody could wish he were Mr. 
 Allen Chadwick. It is a pity you will see nothing of 
 Trouville,' she added ; ' it's rather an amusing little 
 place, and the surrounding country is so pretty.' 
 
 ' I have been here before, but it is a pity,' he said 
 simply. And just then the course was cleared for a 
 race aii trot attele, with light gigs in the American 
 style, which gave another turn to their conversation. 
 But the longer he stood by her side, listening to her 
 half-mocking, half-iuterested talk, the harder it seemed 
 that in all probability their acquaintance would last but 
 this one short day. 
 
 It was not until the race was over that either of 
 them remembered Allen, and it was not Margot who 
 suggested that they had better see what had become 
 of him. They found him, excited but unintelligible, 
 engaged in an altercation with tli<> jtroprietor of a 
 nouvelle combinahon on the fari mutuel system. 'I 
 desire mon monnaie — toute la monnaie ! ' he was re- 
 peating; 'j'ai donne sept francs, et vous donnez deux 
 francs et demi seuleraent. Je n" appelle 9a un parry 
 mutual, je dis ! ' To which the bookmaker merely 
 replied by a shrug of confidential pity to the audience. 
 \'ous voyez,' he appealed to them, ' 9a — c'est un
 
 VALENTINE AND ORSON 87 
 
 Anglais, 9a n'est pas dans le mouvement ! ' Where- 
 upon the crowd, particularly those who had been equally 
 unfortunate, laughed in compassionate superiority. 
 
 Margot held aloof. ' If he chooses to make himself 
 ridiculous,' she said, ' don't let us interfere. He will be 
 hooted at presently.' 
 
 But Orme went up and drew him quietly away. 
 ' You're no match for a French bookmaker, Chadwick,' 
 he said ; ' better give in.' 
 
 ' But he's done me,' insisted Allen ; ' I can prove it. 
 I gave him ' 
 
 ' And he's stuck to it, whatever it was,' said Orme ; 
 ' some bookmakers do. Come away.' 
 
 ' I'll tell you how it was. Miss,' protested Allen to 
 Margot, ' I mean Miss Chevening. I went up to 
 him ' 
 
 ' It's quite useless explaining to me,' she said, ' I 
 know nothing about betting, and I don't want to know 
 anything. Hadn't we better go back to the carriage? ' 
 
 Orme took this as a dismissal, rather to Margot's 
 disappointment. ' Then I shall not see you again ? ' 
 she said indifferently. ' I hope you will have a pleasant 
 crossing.' 
 
 ' Thanks,' he said, ' I am a good sailor. Good-bye.' 
 
 As soon as Margot was alone with Allen she sud- 
 denly changed her manner to him ; she was as nearly 
 gracious as she could bring herself to be. 
 
 ' I thought you said Mr. Orme was glad to go ? ' 
 she began, 
 
 ' Why, isn't he ? ' There was an accent in his voice
 
 88 THE PARIAH 
 
 which encouraged IMargot in something she had resolved 
 to attempt. ' Has he been talking about it to you ? ' 
 
 ' Do you want him to stay ? ' she said, looking away 
 as she spoke. 
 
 ' 1 — I should like it, if he liked it,' answered Allen, 
 flushing. 
 
 * Don't you see,' she said, ' that he can hardly stay 
 on now without an invitation ? But I think that, if you 
 were to ask him ' 
 
 ' Would you like me to ask him ? ' cried Allen. 
 
 ' I ! What is it to do with me ? ' she said, exaspe- 
 rated at the thought that this boor had blundered on 
 her true motive. * Will you please understand that 
 whether Mr. Orme goes or stays is perfectly unimpor- 
 tant so far as I am concerned. I thought you had 
 taken a wrong idea into your head about him, and 
 might be glad to have it corrected. I am sorry I said 
 anything about it at all now.' 
 
 * I'm sure it was meant kindly on your part, Miss,' 
 said Allen ; ' of course I know you spoke out of friend- 
 liness to me, and I'm much obliged. I'll try whether 
 Orme can be got to stay. I'll speak to him this very 
 evening.' 
 
 'If you do,' said Margot, 'you will have the good- 
 ness not to mention my name, or I shall be exceedingly 
 angry. You will recollect that ? ' 
 
 * I'd rather he thought it was all my idea,' he replied ; 
 ' and I do take it very kindly of you putting me up to it.' 
 
 ' Don't say any more about that, please,' said 
 Margot, feeling slightly ashamed of herself; but she was
 
 VALENTINE AND ORSON 89 
 
 gratified, too, for she had now some cause for believing 
 that she had not seen the last of Mr. Orme yet. 
 
 Meanwhile, much of Mr. Chadwick's conversation 
 with Mrs. Chevening as they sat in the carriage by the 
 winning-post had turned upon his son. ' I suppose now,' 
 he had said, ' there's not much difference between my 
 boy and your young lady, as far as years go — he's just 
 of age.' 
 
 ' Margot is only nineteen,' said Mrs. Chevening. 
 She was much oppressed by the perversity of things in 
 general just then ; was it worth while, she wondered, 
 persevering with her scheme any longer ? Could she 
 expect her daughter to marry such a completely unpre- 
 sentable young man? The father was polished by 
 comparison, and yet she would not have suffered him 
 but for her hasty conclusion that his son would most 
 probably be found to have escaped all trace of vulgarity, 
 and be a young Englishman of the ordinary type, well- 
 looking and well-educated. The reality had gone some 
 way to cause her to lose heart ; and yet — these Chad- 
 wicks were extremely well off : if Margot could bring 
 herself to tolerate him, a load of anxiety would fall 
 from her shoulders. Mrs. Chevening thought of her 
 growing family and increasing expenses ; what a help 
 Margot might be to them all — if only she would ! 
 
 ' Nineteen,' said Chadwick, ' and admirers by the 
 dozen already, I daresay ? Does she happen to favour 
 anyone in particular, so far as you're aware, that is ? ' 
 
 Mrs. Chevening closed her eyes for a moment : ' I 
 have no reason for supposing so,' she said faintly.
 
 90 THE PARIAH 
 
 ' Difficult to please, perhaps ? ' suggested Cliad- 
 wick, 
 
 Mrs. Chevening, not finding any immediate answer 
 to this, took refuge in one of those inarticulate unir- 
 raiirs which are so useful in such emergencies. 
 
 ' Oh, I'm not blaming her, if she is,' he said. ' It's 
 only natural she should know her own value. I've not 
 seen anyone since I've been back in tlie old country to 
 come near \wv in looks.' 
 
 ' I think she is pretty,' Mrs, Chevening admitted 
 complacently, ' people seem to admire her, certainly. 
 But beauty is such a mere accident.' 
 
 ' It's the kind of accident a good many would like 
 to meet with,' he said. ' Now, my boy — his face will 
 never make his fortune. But for all that, he's a real 
 good fellow, and so you would say if you knew him as 
 well as I do ! ' 
 
 ' That I can quite believe,' 
 
 ' He's not been much used to ladies' society,' said 
 Chadwick, ' but perhaps he's none the worse for that,' 
 he added, as if to counteract any air of apology in his 
 tone. 
 
 ' At all events, it is a deficiency so easily overcome, 
 isn't it ? ' 
 
 ' Well, it's not everybody I'd say so much to, but I 
 don't think it would do him any harm if he saw a little 
 of a nice well-brought-up girl — such as your young 
 lady for instance. I shouldn't have any objection to 
 his going about \\ ifli her. And it makes it livelier for 
 her, too, having a companion of the opposite sex.'
 
 VALENTINE AND ORSON 91 
 
 ' I think my daughter is perfectly happy so long as 
 she is with me,' said Mrs. Chevening, with a touch of 
 dignity. 
 
 ' Oh, no doubt, no doubt. Still, it isn't quite the 
 same thing, is it ? And, judging by the time they've 
 been away together, they seem to have hit it off 
 already.' 
 
 Mrs. Chevening kept her private doubts to herself, 
 but presently when Allen and Margot returned, the 
 restored animation and good-humour in her face afforded 
 her mother an agreeable surprise ; so long as she did 
 not take one of her inveterate dislikes, things were not 
 hopeless. 
 
 Soon afterwards the last race — a steeplechase over 
 very mild obstacles — was run without any mishaps 
 occurring to invest it with excitement, and then the 
 drum beat to disperse the crowd, which streamed peace- 
 fully homewards, well satisfied with the afternoon's 
 sport, and the fly carried Mr. Chadwick and his party 
 through the long shadows and slanting red sunlight 
 back to the Oalifornie. 
 
 Margot's anticipations were justified : they dined 
 apart that evening, after the lahle d'hote, at which 
 Nugent Orme had taken his place, not without a hope 
 of seeing her again. She was not there, and he felt 
 that it was on the whole better for his peace of mind. 
 He was smoking a cigarette in the dusk in front of the 
 hotel when Allen came out and sat down on the bench 
 by his side. 
 
 For some time he was silent, but at lensfth he said.
 
 92 THE PARIAH 
 
 ' 1 say, I wish wed got on better together while we 
 were away.' 
 
 ' We got on pretty well together, didnt we ? ' said 
 Ornie, not knowing quite what to Sfiy. 
 
 ' We were never what you may call thick," said 
 Allen ; ' I know I've not had your education and all 
 that. Its natural you should hold off from me.' 
 
 ' If I ever did or said anything to make you think 
 that, my dear fellow,' said Orme, ' I can only say I'm 
 heartily sorry. You see, you rather kept me at a dis- 
 tance yourself.' 
 
 This view of the case was rather soothing to Allen. 
 ' I wasn't going to force my friendship where it didn't 
 seem wanted,' he said ; ' that was why I kept to myself 
 pretty much.' 
 
 ' Well,' said Orme, with a little sigh, ' we shall 
 know better another time, eh, Chadwick ? I'm sorry 
 we didn't learn to understand one another sooner. 
 Where is your father, do you know ? I must go into 
 matters with him some time this evening.' 
 
 ' Father's on the balcony with ^Irs. Chevening and 
 the others,' said Allen ; ' and — what I wanted to speak 
 about was this, Orme — you're not obliged to go to- 
 morrow, are you ? ' 
 
 ' I don't think your father expects me to stay on 
 any longer,' said Orme. 
 
 ' Oh, I spoke to him about that ; he said 1 might 
 ask you, and — and I wish you'd stay.' 
 
 Stay — and see more of Miss Chevening; was it 
 prudent? and yet, there was nothing to call him back
 
 VALENTINE AND ORSON 93 
 
 to his new chambers at present ; would he not be un- 
 gracious in thrusting back Allen's offer of friendship ? 
 They could never, perhaps, be friends in the truest sense 
 of the word, but he might do something to atone for 
 his past superciliousness. 
 
 He had been gained by the other's evident desire 
 to win his liking, a desire which he had never suspected 
 till that day. To ask how far the prospect of meeting 
 Miss Chevening contributed to influence him were to 
 consider too curiously, but his change of feeling towards 
 Allen was genuine enough. 
 
 ' I'll stay with pleasure,' he said warmly ; ' it's kind 
 of you to wish it.' 
 
 Allen's heart swelled with a great joy; he had 
 scarcely hoped to be met like this, and felt bigger in 
 his own estimation. ' I'm glad you'll stay,' he said ; ' I'm 
 glad you don't mind being friends.' 
 
 And the two shook hands. It was a singular result 
 to follow the caprice of a self-willed girl, this establish- 
 ment of a better understanding between two such 
 natures as those of Allen and Orme ; but though it 
 brousrht about the conclusion she wished, she had not 
 designed it, nor would she have been interested by so 
 unimportant a matter.
 
 94 THE PARIAH 
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 so YOUNG AND SO UN-TENDER ! 
 
 What right can you have, God'a other works to scorn, despise . . . 
 
 revile them 
 In the gross as mere men broadly — not as noble men, forsooth, — 
 But a.s I'arias of the outer w rid, forbidden to assoil them 
 In the hope of living — dying, — near that sweetness of your mouth 1 
 
 Lady Geraldine's Courtahij). 
 
 Nugent Okme stayed on at Trouville as Mr. Cliacl\vick"s 
 guest, but somehow he did not find as many oppor- 
 tunities as he had hoped for of improving his acquain- 
 tance with Miss Chevening. Her mother had shown him 
 especial civility, and had introduced him to many of her 
 friends, the Whipples in particular ; his chair was placeil 
 next ^liss Magnolia's at hdile d'hCte, an arrangement 
 which did not displease that young lady. But he never 
 found his seat near Margot's, and such conversations as 
 he had with her were short and semi-public. 
 
 As for Margot, without very well knowing how'it 
 was or liow to avoid it, she found herself constantly 
 paired off with the obnoxious Allen, who would not see 
 how intensely she disliked his companionship ; his sliy- 
 ness was wearing oH' a little — which made her detest 
 him all the more ; she raged in secret, and at last 
 expostulated openly with her mother.
 
 so YOUiXG AND SO UN- TENDER 95 
 
 * It is improving him so wonderfally, dai'ling,' was 
 all Mrs. Clie veiling could find to say. 
 
 ' It is not improving me — -it is driving me nearly 
 insane. I simply cannot stand him, mother.' 
 
 ' You wouldn't say so if you knew how it pleases 
 his father — he feels how incomplete his son's training 
 has been, and is so glad for him to be with you.' 
 
 ' Why should I complete other people's sons, dear ? 
 and why do you care whether Mr. Chadwick is pleased 
 or not ? ' 
 
 ' It should be enough for you that I do wish it,' 
 answered Mrs. Chevening, with a rather weak assertion 
 of her authority. ' We are not so surrounded by friends, 
 my dear, that we can afford to offend people who are 
 only too willing to show us every kindness. If you had 
 a little more heart, Margot, you would be touched by 
 that poor boy's anxiety to please you, you would 
 indeed ! ' 
 
 ' I suppose I haven't any heart, dear, for it only 
 irritates me. And the worst of it is, I can't make him 
 see it ; some day I shall speak so plainly that even he 
 will have no excuse for not understanding.' 
 
 Mrs. Chevening flushed with unmistakable anger. 
 ' Listen to me, you heedless girl,' she cried, ' I forbid 
 you — I forbid you to say anything insulting to that 
 young man ! Think what you please of him, since you 
 are determined to dislike him, but behave decently to 
 him in public you must and shall. It is not a great 
 deal to ask of you, after all the expense I have incurred 
 in coming here — solely on your account. I thought it
 
 96 THE PARIAH 
 
 would !)(' a pleasant change for you — and this is my 
 reward ! ' 
 
 Margot dreaded a burst of tears at this point, and 
 liastened to raake a timely capitulation. ' There, mother 
 dear,' she said, 'don't scold me. Ini not really going 
 to be naughty. Why, if you wished it, I'd walk about 
 Trouville with a bear : indeed, a nice brown sleepy bear 
 wouldn't be nearly so — never mind. I'll make the best 
 of the — the other animal, the hCde noire. But I do think 
 that I ought to be allowed to abuse him when he's not 
 to hear me.' 
 
 She looked so charming as she stood there, with a 
 half-humorous protest beneath her suppliant expression, 
 that her mother's displeasure was appeased. 
 
 'Ah, Margot,' she said with a sigh, 'if you only 
 knew your own power ! ' 
 
 ' 'iliat's exactly what they say of wild beasts in a 
 cage, dear. Would you like to put me in a cage? ' 
 
 ' You have no right to say such things,' cried ]\Irs. 
 Chevening, ' when you know I am only anxious for your 
 good — for the good of you all. It is unkind and un- 
 grateful to talk to me about cages.' 
 
 Margot stared. ' Why, I meant nothing — what 
 could I mean ? Evidently this isn't one of my lucky 
 morniners. Come down and sit on the sands somewhere, 
 and you shall see how good I can be.' 
 
 On that occasion, as it happened. Miss Chevetiing 
 was spared from proving the genuineness of her good 
 intentions. Under one of the giant umbrellas they 
 found the Spokers. ' I've been trying to induce Alfred
 
 so YOUNG AND SO UN-TENDER 97 
 
 to bathe,' Mrs. Spoker announced, ' but he's afraid of 
 my finding out how badly he swims. He says he has 
 his tub every morning, but I believe he stands outside 
 and splashes.' 
 
 ' Sea-bathing doesn't agree with me,' said Mr. 
 Spoker. 
 
 ' I think perhaps he is right about that,' remarked 
 his wife impartially, ' because he bathed once when we 
 were at Torquay on our honeymoon, and he was per- 
 fectly green all day. I shall always think of him — pale 
 green with a bright crimson nose,' she went on cheer- 
 fully ; ' yes, you voPA-e like that, dear. I very nearly 
 packed up and went home at once.' 
 
 ' Why didn't you tell me ? I would have done all 
 the packing for you,' said her husband. 
 
 ' I thought it was my duty to bear you, whatever 
 colours you turned,' she said ; ' and I must say he has 
 never looked quite so like a dying dolphin since. But 
 you are dreadfully odd and peculiar, Alfred, in lots of 
 ways.' 
 
 She was proceeding to describe her astonishment on 
 first seeing Alfred scrubbing the top of his head with a 
 nail-brush, when one of the opera-bouffe-ish cahanes 
 came creaking and jolting over the sand and stopped a 
 few paces off". 
 
 ' There's young Mr. Chadwick,' said Mrs. Chevening. 
 'Mrs. Spoker, do you know that it's market day? 
 Wouldn't it be pleasant for you and Mr. Spoker, and 
 Margot and ' 
 
 ' Oh, and there's that nice Mr. Orme, too,' cried 
 
 VOL. I. H
 
 98 THE PARIAH 
 
 Mrs. SpolvPr; ' tlellghtful ! No, Alfred, I shan't let 
 you come, five's an awkward nuinbor; you must stay 
 and amuse ^Mrs. Chevening, site hasn't heard all your 
 stories. .Mr. Ornie will take care of me.' 
 
 Probably ls\r%. Spoker had some idea of the truth, 
 and was mischievous enough to thwart any schemes 
 ^Irs. Chevening might be entertaining ; or else she 
 trathered from Miss Chevening's expression that she 
 would be grateful for a little relief from young ]\Ir. 
 Chadwick's society, and had the good nature to oblige 
 her. At all events the four had not proceeded far 
 before Mrs. Spoker had effected a transfer of partners, 
 and Orme found himself assigned to Margot. 
 
 It pleased her to express some surprise at his being 
 still at Trouville. ' I thought you left yesterday or the 
 day before,' she said ; * I haven't seen you anywhere.' 
 
 ' I'm afraid that was because it did not occur to you 
 to look. I was at tahle cVhote.' 
 
 ' Oh so you were, I remember now — you were 
 sitting by the Whipples. I hope you found them 
 entertaining ? * 
 ' Very.' 
 
 ' Miss Whipple is amusing — wlien you like that 
 kind of thing. Well, I wish I had been in as pleasant 
 company as you appear to have been. I haven't been 
 amused at all. Mr. Orme, tell me, weren't you induced 
 to stay on here by the prospect of having some more of 
 ;Mr. Allen Chadwick's society ? ' 
 
 * I stayed on his invitation," he replied. 
 
 * I wish you could manage to enjoy a little more of
 
 so YOUNG AND SO UN- TENDER 99 
 
 it, because I seem to have monopolised it at present, 
 and I don't want to be selfish.' 
 
 ' If I have had less of it than I might have expected 
 that is really not ray fault.' 
 
 ' You mean that it is mine ? What I must have 
 been depriving you of ! Have you been very inconsol- 
 able?' 
 
 'I think I ought to tell you,' he said, 'I'm afraid I 
 gave you the impression that I disliked him rather than 
 otherwise. It was true then ; but lately I have come 
 to see that I was unjust. I see much now that I would 
 not see before.' 
 
 ' Ah,' she replied, ' I suppose he is seen to better 
 advantage at a distance — like a mountain ; but you see 
 I have had no opportunities of discovering that for myself. 
 I have been so very unfortunately placed. But I am rather 
 curious to know what the^e newly-discovered beauties 
 in his character really are. Has he suddenly developed 
 a sense of humour, or a glimmering notion of how he 
 ought to behave ? Was his twang assumed to try us ? 
 Or is he that ]x)ringest of all bores — the rough diamond ? 
 Do please enlighten me.' 
 
 ' I don't think it would be of much use if I tried,' 
 he said ; ' suppose we change the subject ? ' 
 
 ' Suppose we do without a subject,' she retorted, 
 and walked on in majestic silence with her chin very 
 much elevated. Miss Chevening did not take at all 
 kindly to a setting-down. He had been a little repelled 
 again by this exhibition of disdain, he thought her need- 
 lessly hard, and yet there was something captivatiugly 
 
 H 2
 
 loo THE PARIAH 
 
 childish in this petulance of hers which made it difficult 
 to take her seriously. 
 
 ' Is talking strictly prohibited ? ' he said at last, 
 and she broke into a charming, unwilling smile. 
 
 ' Was I cross ? ' she said. 'Yes, I know I was. But 
 you were so very superior, weren't you ? Never mind, 
 here we are at the market; let us try to finish our walk 
 without quarrelling.' 
 
 Her eyes were kind and frank and friendly again, 
 and for the rest of the morning no one could have been 
 more sweetly engaging, more ready to give pleasure and 
 be pleased, than this most contradictory and variable 
 young lady. Orrae wandered by her side through the 
 maze of white-capped old women, with their baskets and 
 stalls heaped with wares of all kinds — butter in leaves, 
 live rabbits in boxes, dogfish in baskets, and cool 
 fresh-smelling country-produce. All the time he had 
 a sense of the delight and privilege of being with her, 
 coupled with a kind of impatience at himself that his 
 enjoyment was not keener and more conscious still ; it 
 seemed to him that it was somehow not so delightful 
 now as he felt it would be to look back upon later. 
 
 Near the quay a travelling dentist had stationed a 
 gilded vehicle like a diligence, from the co\i]pe of which, 
 gorgeously arrayed in a crimson dressing-gown, he was 
 commending the virtues of a toothache tincture, while 
 a young woman on the roof punctuated his more im- 
 pressive periods with a pair of cymbals. As they came 
 u]) 111' was sprinkling his audience with drops of the 
 tincture, by way of an appeal to their senses. ' If it
 
 so YOUNG AND SO UN-TENDER loi 
 
 smelt unpleasantly,' he was good enough to explain, 
 < I should not permit myself to offer it to you.' But 
 Miss Chevening bestowed all her notice upon a small 
 wooden box which was suspended from the splashboard, 
 and which had a pane of glass in front. Through this 
 pane peered a melancholy and cynical little monkey, 
 which had excited her sympathies. The crowd of gi'in- 
 ning fisher-lads and wrinkled old peasants made way 
 for her as she m.oved up to the cage. ' Oh, see, Mr. 
 Orme,' she cried appealingly, ' the poor little thing ! 
 Is he a patient, do you think ? Do they try the tinc- 
 ture and things on you, dear ? No, your teeth are too 
 good.' And, bending down, she began to talk the most 
 charming and caressing nonsense to the captive, while 
 Orme wondered idly whether the monkey was at all 
 consoled by the sight of that exquisite face at his prison 
 wicket. Probably the creature's ideal was something 
 verv different ; he merely blinked his tired eyes and 
 scratched his ear with a bored suspicion. 
 
 The dentist was inviting any sufferer from toothache 
 to step up and obtain relief, whereupon a sheepish and 
 palpable hireling mounted, and was treated with the 
 tincture to the sound of cymbals. ' Vous etes console, 
 n'est ce pas ? ' the professor inquired majestically, after 
 a dramatic pause for the cure to take effect. ' Mais oui,' 
 said the patient, with a perfunctoriness that suggested 
 consolation in advance. Then, as the dentist showed 
 an alarming disposition to become anatomical (with 
 diagrams), and to produce unpleasant things in bottles 
 out of the boot, Nugent thought it as well to go on, and
 
 ,o2 THE PARIAH 
 
 they strolled along the quay by the fish-stalls, which 
 were laden with immense and hideous flat fish, heaps of 
 little grey shrimps (which a marketing hmxne would 
 occasionally stir up with the ferule of a depreciatory 
 umbrella), and Prussian-blue lobsters, blindly groping 
 for revenge. And Miss Chevening had remarked the 
 prevalent expression of the fish — a ludicrous goggle-eyed 
 astonishment that they should have been caught at last, 
 taken in by a trick as old as the sea itself. 
 
 ' I remember feeling quite guilty about catching a 
 fish once,' said Onne. ' I was out deep-sea fishing, and 
 we caught an immense cod. He lay there, gasping 
 and spluttering, in the bows, exactly like a highly 
 respectable and indignnnt old gentleman in a white 
 waistcoat ; he only wanted a gold chain. I really felt 
 inclined to aix)logise for taking the liberty of hooking 
 hiiu.' 
 
 ' But you didn't put him back ? ' 
 < Well — no ; but I avoided his eye. He breathed his 
 last Avith a calm dignity that completed my remorse.' 
 
 ' The remorse of the Walrus and the Carpenter,' she 
 said. ' Look, this fish has a striking face — they call it a 
 " St. Pierre " here — one side of his profile is pious and 
 resigned, the other is sneering and malignant. I 
 wonder which he kept for his family.' 
 
 All this is trivial enough, and would be scarcely 
 wortli recording were it not that it is just such light- 
 hearted foolish talk as this that advances an acquain- 
 tanceship many months in a single hour. Orme saw a 
 new Miss Chevening, tender-hearted, full of the sweetest
 
 so YOUNG AND SO UN-TENDER 103 
 
 gaiety, simple and natural ; a very diiFerent person from 
 the scornful, sarcastic young lady of half an hour before. 
 Presently in some way she came to tell him about her 
 family, and the old riverside home at Chiswick. 
 
 ' Such a queer, shabby, out-of-the-way old house,' 
 she said, ' with only a narrow little path and some old 
 poplars in front, no road, and then the river. But the 
 dearest old place for all that — especially in the summer, 
 when you can sit out on the balcony and see the boats go 
 shooting by, and the people streaming across the bridge 
 to Kew Gardens. Even in the winter, though, when it's 
 all foggy and misty, I like it. I am always glad to get 
 back to it. I hated it when we first went to live there 
 — we all did — but now I wouldn't change it for any 
 place in the world.' 
 
 This and more of the same nature he learnt from 
 her during that walk ; and all the time he had her quite 
 to himself, for Mrs. Spoker kept Allen at a discreet 
 distance until the return, when she joined them, in 
 raptures with the dentist, to whom she declared she 
 intended to present her husband for scientific purposes. 
 
 Orme, as has been said, came away with a deeper 
 and more pleasing impression of Miss Chevening, but 
 he was by no means in love with her even yet ; he told 
 himself that she was an interesting study, a comrade 
 who could be delightful when it pleased her. She was 
 certainly lovely, but the type of woman he admired 
 was smaller, fairer, less mutinous, if not meeker, than 
 Margot, with her fine physique, her masses of dusky 
 hair with the gleam of bronze in it, and her vivid,
 
 104 THE PARIAH 
 
 spirited face. Tliere was not the least danger; and 
 besides, had she not, even in the short time he had 
 known her, shown qualities whicli in his heart he did 
 not admire ? He was not in love, that was certain ; but 
 he thought of her pretty constantly notwithstanding. 
 
 He had more frequent opportunities of observing her 
 now, for, since that walk with her, it had come to be 
 looked upon as a natural thing that he as well as Allen 
 should be in attendance upon Miss Chevening. Her 
 mother, though of course present on these occasions, 
 raised no objection, being either too indolent to engage 
 in any further encounter with her daughter, or doubtful 
 whether she could interfere without offending Chad wick, 
 which she was very anxious to avoid. 
 
 But this greater freedom of intercourse brought 
 Orme, on the whole, more of torment than delight, 
 though each day he felt the physical attraction of her 
 more powerfully, and she made no secret of a growing 
 pleasure in his society. 
 
 Allen usually made the third ^icrson in the party, 
 and it was her treatment of him which almost counter- 
 acted her charm in Orme's eyes. Generally she scarcely 
 deigned to notice him at all, but if" she did it was in- 
 variably in a subdued tone of ])rnr()imrloRt contempt; 
 when she had occasion to speak of him in his absence it 
 was with the deepest, the most unsparing disdain. 
 
 Some men miglit have found a delicious flattery in 
 such a contrast ; Orme had a somewhat ascetic conscience 
 in these matters, his keen admiration of this girl's 
 beauty made him a sterner critic of her faults, which he
 
 so YOUNG AND SO UN-TENDER 105 
 
 absolutely resented. With all her loveliness, he denied 
 her right to adopt that attitude of supreme scornfulness 
 to one so helpless and inoffensive as the unfortunate 
 Allen ; every fresh instance of it gave Orme a sharper 
 pain, and the fact that Allen was quite unconscious of 
 all her veiled mockery only made her conduct worse in 
 his friend's eyes. Why, he wondered, should she, who 
 looked all that was sweet and lovable, show this ugly 
 side to her nature ? As it would be worse than useless 
 to protest, he would at least do nothing that would imply 
 acquiescence — he would prevent this young Chadwick 
 from being made publicly ridiculous. 
 
 And, perhaps with a view to his own protection 
 from a greater danger, he contrived expeditions for 
 Allen and himself to various places along the coast 
 and inland which kept them away from the rest of the 
 party for the greater part of each day. 
 
 At last this precaution defeated itself He and 
 Allen had taken the train to Pout I'Eveque, and were 
 walking back to Trouville by way of Bonneville, the 
 fine old Norman stronghold where Duke William ex- 
 tended a dubious hospitality to Saxon Harold, and 
 Matilda beguiled her solitude by needlework, and 
 Berengaria mourned for Coeur de Lion. The massive 
 keep and the old walls with crumbling towers at the 
 angles are all that remain of the castle now, though a 
 whitewashed green-shuttered building has grown in 
 amongst the ruins like a parasite. Outside the entrance 
 they saw a large white-awuinged break and pair, and in 
 the courtyard — which is now neatly laid out with gravel
 
 io6 THE PARIAH 
 
 walks and turf, Ma/Jiiif flower-beds and fruit-trees — a 
 party of tourists had just preceded tliein. 
 
 ' Oh, yes,' Orrne heard a familiar voice remarking, 
 ' 1 know very well it's all perfectly sweet and too 
 majestic for anything, but I don't seem as if I cimhl 
 have my imagination excited by any more old relics, 
 I've been round peopling so many antiquated piles with 
 knights and j)ages and chatelaines and troubadours 
 that I don't feel to have any left for a number-two ruin 
 like this. I can't re-create the dead past worth a red 
 cent to-day. Oh, ]\[r. Orme, now this is what I call 
 a delightful meeting ! I hope you feel it delightful as 
 well ? Yes, we're all here, the others are going round. 
 M. de Pommesupant, we'd better go round too, if you've 
 no objection.' 
 
 * It was ^\v. Chadwick's idea — our coming here in a 
 party,' explained ]\Iiss Whipple to Orme as they walked 
 on ; ' he managed it all — he's perfectly splendid at 
 managing, I do admire him for one thing, anyway,' 
 she added in a tone of impartial laudation : ' he's a live 
 man all the time, there are no flies on him.' 
 
 Orme could see the rest of the party on ahead — 
 Chadwick, the Spokers, the "VVhipples, and Mrs. 
 Chevening, and, with a thrill he could not prevent, he 
 saw a slim tall figure which could only belong to Miss 
 Chevening, ' I say,' Mr. Spoker was observing, as 
 they all stood round a kind of deep cellar, ' this is 
 interesting — imt it interesting, now ? The guide says 
 this is the identical ouhlieiii' in which De Chaumont 
 was imprisoned by Richard I. ; how it carries you back
 
 so YOUNG AND SO UN-TENDER 107 
 
 to the old times, eh? See, there's a lamp burning 
 down there.' 
 
 ' Before you're quite carried back, dear,' said his 
 affectionate wife, ' perhaps youll tell us who De Chau- 
 mont was, and what he did. Ah, I Inew he didn't 
 know ! ' she cried, ' he was so very enthusiastic' 
 
 ' I know quite enough to make it interesting to me, 
 my love, whatever it may be to you,' he retorted. 
 'Here's a curious thing, now, we are coming to the 
 very chapel in which Harold took the solemn oath to 
 help William to acquire the throne of England.' 
 
 ' Why,' remarked Miss Whipple, ' there isn't room 
 to take so much as an affidavit in there! — no wonder 
 he broke it. Let's come away, this is disenchanting.' 
 
 'Mees Chevenain,' the young Frenchman, an en- 
 thusiastic Anglomaniac, was saying to Margot, ' will 
 you make with me the ascension of the tower ? and 
 upon the top we will 'ave a beautiful blow on the 
 eye.' 
 
 Margot was in rather a reckless mood just then ; 
 for some time she had noticed Orme's defection, and 
 resented it deeply. She had found him agreeable and 
 interesting, she had respected him and been anxious to 
 have his good opinion. Now, it seemed, he preferred 
 the company of that ill-bred idiot to hers. Of course 
 she affected to treat the whole matter with indifference, 
 but her heart was very bitter against both Allen and 
 his friend, and she was childishly ready to seek some 
 means of retaliation. 
 
 She had chosen not to see the newcomers, and, by
 
 io8 THE PARIAH 
 
 way of avoiding them, went up the worn stone steps 
 witli ]\I. de Pomniesufunt, and stood on tlie little 
 platform looking down on tlie moat, whose velvet- 
 ridged sides were flecked with shade from the gnarled 
 old apple-trees that grew along the bank. Beyond, 
 across the tree tops, lay the shimmering plain, with the 
 roofs of Touques glittering in the afternoon sun, and, 
 further still, the deep lapis lazuli blue of the sea. 
 Inland stretched a rich country landscape, a patch- 
 work of deep chocolate, tender green, and the brilliant 
 yellow of the colza, intersected by long double lines 
 of poplars, and backed by distant ultramarine hills. 
 The hattoirs of the washerwomen, as they knelt over 
 a soapy little roofed tank below, made a cheerful ham- 
 mering. 
 
 ' You find it magnificent ? ' her companion asked. 
 
 ' The view ? ' she said absently — she had hardly 
 noticed it — * oh yes.' 
 
 ' And I,' he agreed. ' To some, nature is triste and 
 wants of gaiety. For me, no. I am like you others 
 — you English. I love the repose, the picturesque ; I 
 come to Trouville, not to live as in Paris, but for 
 change, for simplicity. I am very fond of all your 
 English ways of living : your fox-hunt, your dogscart, 
 your novel — ah, how I adore your " Vicaire of AV^ackfiel'" 
 and your " Clariase Arlow "I — your "ome, and your games 
 of the family. There is a game I have often heard but 
 seen nevare, it is called, 1 think, "Kiss at a Ring;" 
 could you inform me how to play him ? ' 
 
 ' I am afraid not; said Margot ; ' but there is some
 
 so YOUKG AND SO UN-TENDER 109 
 
 one below who I daresay could tell you all about it ; 
 we will go down and I will ask him.' 
 
 In the courtyard she saw Allen and Orme, with all 
 of the party except her mother and Mr. Chad wick, who 
 were watching the custodian as he dropped pieces of 
 lighted newspaper down the castle well. 
 
 ' Mr. Chadwick,' said Margot sweetly to Allen, in 
 her clear soft tones, ' M. de Pommesu9ant is very 
 anxious to know how " Kiss in the Ring " is played. 
 I suppose you have played it often enough on Bank 
 Holidays, and are quite an authority ; would you mind 
 explaining it to him ? ' 
 
 ' It's simple enough,' said the unsuspecting Allen, 
 * we might have a game here, if you didn't mind.' 
 
 'Thanks,' she said, 'we should mind very much. 
 You see, M. de Pommesupant, English ladies are not 
 in the habit of playing " Kiss in the Ring." ' 
 
 ' Then it is only for the English gentilmans ? ' said 
 the mystified Frenchman. 
 
 Miss Chevening laughed. ' I must leave Mr. Chad- 
 wick to answer that ; \e plays it at all events. Where 
 do you play it, Mr. Chadwick ? — at tea-gardens and 
 places of that sort ? Please instruct M. de Pomme- 
 sufant.' 
 
 ' A thousand thanks,' said the latter gentleman 
 gallantly, ' but I do not wish to learn a game I cannot 
 play with the English ladies.' 
 
 ' Perhaps you are right,' said Margot ; ' it is not at 
 all an aristocratic amusement, in spite of Mr. Chad- 
 wick's fondness for it.'
 
 no THE PARIAH 
 
 She ]i:ul tlit^ gratificiition of kno\viu<^ tliat Nugent 
 Orme was standing close by, and she could see from 
 his expression that he was intensely angry. She did 
 not care: anvlliing was better than that he should seem 
 so provokingly unconscious of her existence. 
 
 TliL' rest of the party had gone on in search of 
 
 further objects of interest or points of view, and she 
 
 was preparing to follow when she was stopped by Orme. 
 
 ' Don't go yet, Miss Chevening,' he said. ' I want 
 
 to speak to you.' 
 
 There was an air of authority in his tone that 
 mastered her. ' You must find me a seat, then,' she 
 said. 
 
 There were some under the fruit-trees, and she sat 
 down. ' Do you prefer standing ? ' she said, as he 
 stood moodily by. 
 
 ' Yes, I do," he said shortly. ' Miss Chevening,' he 
 broke out a moment after, ' why, in Heaven's name, 
 can't you leave that poor young Chadwick in peace ? ' 
 She was provokingly innocent and surprised. ' What 
 did I do? I merely assumed he had played a vulgar 
 game, and as it turned out I was quite right.' 
 
 * You did it to humiliate him and make him openly 
 ridiculous,' he said. 
 
 ' He noticed nothing.' 
 
 ' vSuch an excuse as that is worse than none. I 
 thought, if 1 kept him out of your way as much as 
 possible, you would have some consideration for him 
 when you did meet.' 
 
 She sat there restlessly spreading and shutting her
 
 so YOUNG AND SO UN-TENDER iir 
 
 hand, ' I can't help it,' she said rebelliously ; ' I do not 
 see why 1 should have to meet such a person at all, and 
 
 when I do But you would never understand how I 
 
 feel about it. I can't be civil to him ; the mere sight of 
 him ' 
 
 ' I don't understand,' he replied ; ' I hope I never 
 shall. Whatever you are and w^hatever he may be, you 
 have no right to treat him with a contempt like this. It 
 is insolent, wicked ; you ought not to encourage it, for 
 your own sake, Miss Chevening. If you despise him 
 so intensely, that should be a reason for letting him 
 alone.' 
 
 She coloured ; she knew, if he did not, what her real 
 motives had been in making that gratuitous attack on 
 his p'otege ; apparently she had succeeded only too well. 
 
 ' You are a very warm partisan,' she said maliciously; 
 ' don't they say that the latest converts are always keenest 
 to make proselytes ? "Wasn't your own conversion rather 
 recent, Mr. Orme ? ' 
 
 ' At least,' he retorted angrily, ' I can't charge myself 
 with having been carried away by prejudice.' 
 
 ' As I am ? I don't admit that it is prejudice ; I call 
 it instinct, Mr. Orme, the instinct given to us for our 
 protection against noxious creatures of all kinds. But 
 whatever it is,' she added wilfully, ' I have it and I must 
 obey it, whether it displeases you or not. So I'm afraid 
 your lecture has not done very much good to anybody.' 
 
 ' Evidentlv,' he answered. 
 
 He felt irritated and depressed ; he bad only made 
 matters worse by speaking, and even now, angry as he
 
 ui THE PARIAH 
 
 was with her, he was gallingly conscious tliat tliat air of 
 impertinent mockery made her more bewitching than 
 ever. 
 
 ' Have you quite finished your remarks? ' she inquired, 
 ' because, if so, 1 think I will go and see what the others 
 are doing over there. Don't let me disturb you.' 
 
 He watched her go lightly across the turf without 
 attempting to follow her; she was singing gaily to herself 
 as she went. She had no heart, he thought ; she was as 
 irresponsible in her careless cruelty as a child. 
 
 In justice to ^Margot, however, it should be men- 
 tioned that she had had some additional reasons of late 
 f jr emphasising her dislike of Allen. She more than 
 suspected that her mother was secretly encouraging the 
 idea of an engagement between them ; she had more 
 than once been certain that she had heard her name 
 and his coupled together in conversation by Chadwick, 
 with whom her mother seemed now so completely in 
 accord. Nothing should make her yield to anything so 
 horrible and preposterous ; of that she was serenely con- 
 fident ; but in the meantime she would leave as little 
 room for misunderstanding as possible. She was not 
 very angry with Nugent. The difference between them 
 had formed rather a pleasing excitement ; he had looked 
 particularly well when roused ; she looked forward to 
 several repetitions of the scene. It was highly absurd 
 and presumptuous of him to take sides against hor and 
 find fault with her, but it was better than if she had 
 been uniuiportant in his eyes. If she chose, she 
 thought, she could soon make him change his opinions ;
 
 so YOUNG AND SO UN-TENDER 113 
 
 it was impossible that he could really place Allen before 
 her. 
 
 Orme was considering how soon he could bring his 
 stay to a close without discourtesy to Chadwick, when 
 Mrs. Chevening relieved him from all perplexity on that 
 point. She came to him under the trees, smiling at him 
 as she advanced with her most laboured insincerity. 
 
 ' So sorry, dear Mr. Orme,' she began, ' to hear we are 
 to lose you so soon ! Mr. Chadwick tells me you are 
 leaving to-morrow. I didn't know you were only 
 staying here a week.' 
 
 In any case, unless his desire to stay had overcome 
 all self-respect, he could not have iguored so very plain 
 a conge, seeing that she had evidently been deputed to 
 this delicate mission. As it was, he was glad of his 
 release. 
 
 ' Yes, I must leave here to-morrow,' he said ; ' I have 
 stayed too long already.' 
 
 ' Not too long for us, not nearly long enough,' she 
 replied graciously ; ' but of course there is your profes- 
 sion — the Bar, is it not ? and to succeed in that you must 
 work so very hard. I can quite understand that you 
 don't feel justified in taking a longer holiday — quite — 
 quite, Mr. Orme.' 
 
 ' AVhere are Mr. Allen Chadwick and Mr. Orme ? ' 
 asked Miss Whipple a little later. 
 
 ' They've walked on,' said Mrs. Chevening ; ' Mr. 
 Orme wouldn't take a seat in the break ; so foolish of 
 him, when he will want to get back early; he has all 
 his packing to do.' 
 
 VOL. I. I
 
 114 THE PARI Air 
 
 ' Why, is ^fr. Orme going away ? ' 
 
 ' Oh, I tlioiight you knew ! he was just telling me all 
 about it, how he couldn't stay a day over to-morrow — 
 a week was all he intended to stay ; it seems such a 
 very arduous profession, the Bar.' 
 
 There were comments of various kinds, thoucrh none 
 unfavourable upon Orme, and some expressions of 
 sorrow at his departure, but ^Miss Chevening did not 
 join in them. It is possible that she had not heard 
 that he was leaving, for she was much interested in 
 ascertaining the precise depth of the castle well at that 
 time.
 
 115 
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 A REACTION 
 
 From which I escaped heart-free, with the least little touch of 
 spleen. Maud. 
 
 That evening Orme, having finished his packing, such 
 as it was, had come down and gone out upon the 
 terrace overlooking the sands. It was deserted just 
 then ; empty coffee-cups and liqueur glasses stood on 
 the little round tables, the visitors had adjourned to the 
 Casino or their private rooms — he had the place to him- 
 self. He leaned upon the balcony rail and looked out 
 to sea, on which darkness was rapidly closing, the long 
 bars of orange and citron which broke the slate-coloured 
 cloud-banks in the west were narrowing and fading, 
 and over the dim sands below, the light from the hotel 
 lamps flickered fantastically as the breeze blew the 
 tricoloured banners with which they were festooned 
 across their globes, and, farther out, the waves broke in 
 gleaming phosphorescent rolls. Far away to the right, 
 two bright revolving lights and a chain of fiery points 
 indicated Havre, where he would be next day ; on the 
 left were the crimson and green lights of the piers and 
 the garish electric halo above the Casino. 
 
 He was thinking, a little sorely, about Miss 
 
 T 2
 
 Ii6 THE PARIAH 
 
 Chevening. IL' had not spoken to her since their con- 
 versation in the courtyard at Bonneville. He had seen 
 her at the inUe cVlwte — at a distance as usual — and that 
 would in all probability prove to have been his last 
 sight of her. Perhaps, as he was bringing himself to 
 see, it was best so. There had been pi-ril in his friend- 
 ship : he had come dangerously near losing his heart 
 to her. He had admired her unwillingly, against his 
 better judgment, unable altogether to resist the charm 
 of her insouciance, her graceful disdain, her pretty im- 
 pertinences, even when most distrustful of the nature 
 they seemed to reveal. 
 
 But this last experience had cured him, disenchanted 
 him, he thought. This girl was more than careless — 
 she was cruel, merciless to everyone that did not fall in 
 with her fastidious taste ; remonstrances, appeals were 
 thrown away upon her. Heaven help the man who let 
 himself love such a woman as that ! Well, he had had 
 his warning ; he should go away next morning without a 
 pang or a regret — except that disenchantment is perhaps 
 fraut^ht with the keenest regret of all. While he was 
 induhnng in these meditations, he heard the swing-doors 
 move behind him and the sweep of drapery, and then 
 his name called by Miss Chevening herself. He turned, 
 to find her standing close by, her eyes shining and her 
 face looking pale in the subdued light. 
 
 ' You have something to say to me ? ' he asked, 
 wondering greatly. 
 
 ' I wanted to ask you first, if it is true that you are 
 going away to-morrow.'
 
 A REACTION 117 
 
 ' Quite true. It was understood that I could only 
 be here a week.' 
 
 ' I did uot know. If I had, I should not have 
 spoken as I did this afternoon to you.' 
 
 * I really don't remember,' he said, ' that I had any 
 reason to complain personally of what you said.' 
 
 ' Ah ! ' she said, ' don"t put me otF by being cold 
 and civil, please, Mr. Orme ; I couldn't bear to think 
 that our last talk should be like that. I don't want 
 you to go away thinking very badly of me — and — and 
 I am afraid vou will ! ' 
 
 She spoke with such a sweet humility, such 
 childish eagerness to put herself right with him, that 
 no man could have hardened his heart against her, 
 and no one but a coxcomb have misinterpreted her 
 
 appeal. 
 
 ' It is too good of you to care what I think,' Orme 
 
 said. 
 
 ' Of course I care ! Haven't we been friends ? 
 Considering how short a time we have known one 
 another, we were very good friends, I think — till lately. 
 And though I don't suppose we are very likely to meet 
 again, I should like to part friends. I don't want to 
 have it all spoilt at the last.' 
 
 She was more dangerous just then than he had ever 
 found her before. He had to keep a firm command 
 over himself to restrain some speech which would be a 
 hideous mistake. 
 
 ' I know,' she went on, ' it was I who spoilt it. but 
 — but I think you are a little too severe. You don't
 
 iiS TIIR PARIAH 
 
 considor enough what it is to me to have to know a 
 creature like that ; it's so different for a man — it is 
 really ! iVnd it acts on my nerves, it makes roe — well, 
 not myself. 1 am not bad except to people I thoroughly 
 dislike. This afternoon, I own, I had no excuse — it 
 was mean of me, but seeing him there suddenly — it 
 annoyed me ; I wanted to make him feel a little, but he 
 felt nothing — it was I who felt ashamed ! And that 
 made me speak to you as I did. You know how I hate 
 owning myself in the wrong, but I will this once — ^just 
 a little bit.' 
 
 Orme could not help being amused as well as 
 touched. ]\Iiss Chevening's penitence was so evidently 
 of a limited order. 
 
 ' That is something, isn't it ? ' he said, smiling. 
 
 ' There is another thing,' continued Miss Chevening 
 hurriedly. ' Perhaps, as you seem to take such an 
 interest in him, you may be feeling a little uncomfort- 
 able about leaving him to my tender mercies ? You 
 need not be. 1 hope we shall not have to be here very 
 much longer, but, while we are, I will be as good to 
 him as I can possibly be expected to be. There ! ' 
 
 ' I am sure you will not regret it.' 
 
 * Are you ? I am not — but never mind. And you 
 do believe a little more in me than you did, don't 
 you ? ' 
 
 "What could he do but protest ? And just then, too, 
 his belief in her was clouded by no mistrust. It was 
 impossible to look at her as she stood there and think a 
 harsh thought of her.
 
 A REACTION 119 
 
 ' Then — that is all, and — mother is waiting for me 
 in the salon ; I must go in now, Mr. Orme. We may 
 not meet again before you go to-morrow, so will you 
 shake hands — just to show we are friends again ? ' 
 
 ' I am only too glad that you will let me be your 
 friend — now and always,' he said, as he held her hand 
 for an instant ; and then she went within, leaving him 
 less reconciled to his approaching departure than she 
 had found him, and yet with a consolatory glow at 
 his heart. He would go away now with a memory of 
 her marred by no touch of bitterness ; it was an episode 
 in his life, and it was finished, but it would be long 
 before he forgot it, and as often as he recalled it, it 
 would always be with the same tantalising wonder 
 whether he had just escaped delicious happiness or 
 exquisite misery. 
 
 The next morning Miss Chevening, who had been 
 one of the party who saw Nugent Orme off, stood by 
 the lighthouse, following the steamer as it crossed the 
 bay to Havre, until it became indistinguishable against 
 the blurred smoke and sparkle of the quays. She felt 
 a little sad ; she had not realised till then how much he 
 had filled her life of late ; how interesting it had been, 
 even to differ from him. It gave her a momentary 
 pang to look at the Eoches Noires and remember 
 that walk with him the first day. Trouville looked dif- 
 ferent, somehow, now he had gone — it seemed to have 
 lost its meaning. 
 
 ' He went away very sudden at the last,' said Allen,
 
 120 THE PARIAH 
 
 coming up to her. ' I'm sorry he had to go like that ; 
 aren't you, ^liss Chevening ?' 
 
 Miss Chevening made a diplomatic reply to the 
 effect that there was always something rather melan- 
 choly in seeing people off, even if they were almost 
 strangers. 
 
 'Why, vou couldn't call him a stranger!' cried 
 Allen ; ' you knew him — well, pretty near as well as you 
 do us. You won't have to see ■us off just yet,' he added 
 consolingly. 
 
 ' It is just possible,' remarked ^Margot, ' that — to 
 spare ourselves all avoidable pain — we may go first.' 
 
 ' Or — I say — we might all go together, eh ? ' he sug- 
 gested eagerly. 
 
 ' We might, of course, but I don't see the slightest 
 reason for such an arrangement.' 
 
 This could not be called exactly cordial, but it was 
 an effort to her to answer him at all, and she was really 
 putting some control upon herself in doing so at that 
 particular time. But for the joint effect of her promise 
 to Orme and the thought of her mother's displeasure, 
 she could not have endured Allen as patiently as she 
 did during the following days. 
 
 Margot's regret for Orme was but a passing one ; she 
 was heartwhole still, and rather annoyed with herself for 
 indulging even a momentary sentiment. He was only 
 a friend, she did not want him as anything else ; she 
 would probably not see him again, and she did not feel 
 particularly unhappy at the thought. Still, she liked 
 thinking of him.
 
 A REACTION 12 r 
 
 Meanwhile, the Trouville season was drawing to a 
 close ; the shrill chorus of laughter and squeaking from 
 the oilskin-capped bathers grew less loud and sustained ; 
 it was comparatively easy to get a chair, and even a 
 striped umbrella, on the sands ; the company became 
 more bourgeois, there were fewer yachtsmen in spotless 
 white Carlist caps, and more stout gentlemen in 
 black alpaca leading very small dogs adorned with 
 immense rosettes. In the hotels the tahles d'hote con- 
 tracted as fast as the famous peau de cltagrin, and the 
 survivors made gloomy jests on their reduced numbers ; 
 strips of bedside carpet were protruded, like bilious 
 tongues, from the upper windows, and in the toy villas 
 along the plage all the crimson blinds were drawn, and 
 the Swiss verandahs deserted. 
 
 As a further sign, Margot and her mother, driving 
 out one afternoon with the two Chadwicks, met the 
 head-waiter of the Californie and his two principal 
 assistants all mounted on spirited horses, with which 
 they seemed none of them to be on the closest 
 terms. 
 
 ' Why, that's the fellow who brings me my wine,' 
 cried Chadwick ; ' he'll be grassed if he doesn't look out, 
 to a dead certainty.' 
 
 ' None of them can ride a little bit,' said Allen ; 
 ' regular muffs — look, that one has lost his stirrup ! ' 
 
 ' You talk as if you knew something about it,' said 
 Margot suavely ; ' do you ride ? ' 
 
 Her benevolent intention of putting him out of 
 countenance failed for once.
 
 122 THE PARIAH 
 
 ' Oh, yes,' he said, ' I'm very fond of it. I ride 
 every day at home.' 
 
 This statement, while it surprised her, certainly raised 
 him a little in her estimation ; she had a great respect 
 for manliness, and had not expected him to possess 
 such an accomplishment as horsemanship. It was 
 lucky for him that she did not know the exact extent 
 :iiul duration of that possession, which might have 
 altered the case. 
 
 As it was, she treated him with so much more con- 
 sideration, that that evening, on returning from their 
 drive, after Chadwick had rallied the equestrian waiters 
 on their riding until he was satisfied he had tlioroujjhlv 
 endeared himself to them, and Margot and her mother 
 had reached their rooms, !Mrs. Chevening — -not very 
 wisely — commended her daughter upon her improved 
 manner towards Allen. 
 
 ' I am really so pleased to see how nicely you behave 
 to that young Mr. Chadwick now,' she said ; ' you've 
 quite got over your old objections to him, haven't you, 
 darling Margot ? ' 
 
 * If you ask me, dear,' said Margot calmly, ' I think 
 I dislike and detest him more cordially every day, only 
 I'm tired of showing it.' 
 
 ' Now that's so ungracious, to spoil it like that, 
 when I was feeling so happy about it all, too ! ' 
 
 'Happy? But vlnj should you be happy about it, 
 mother ? ' inquired Margot, as she drew the pin out of 
 her hat and turned round suddenly. 
 
 ' Is it very unnatural that I should like to see my
 
 A REACTION 123 
 
 dauo-hter on — on pleasant terms with the son of some 
 one who is becoming almost an intimate friend ? ' 
 
 ' You have a stronger reason than that, dear,' she 
 said ; ' tell me what it is.' 
 
 ' You say such odd things at times,' protested Mrs. 
 Chevening ; ' what stronger reason could I have ? ' 
 
 ' Ah, you forget I am grown-up ! I can't help 
 putting things together, and seeing that you are letting 
 yourself build hopes on what may come of this friend- 
 ship.' 
 
 ' How dare you ! ' Mrs. Chevening was begin- 
 ning, when her daughter stopped her. 
 
 ' Now it's no use, mother dear ; you know as well as 
 I do that you have been thinking what a good thing it 
 would be if that dreadful young boor were to pay me 
 the honour of proposing to me. Thank goodness, such 
 an idea has never occurred to him — he wouldn't dare 
 to even conceive it ! — but if he did, oh if he did, do you 
 suppose I would ever consent for anything in the world 
 — why, mother, I simply couldn't ! ' 
 
 ' Well, my dear,' said her mother, after a pause, 
 ' there's no occasion to excite yourself over it. He has 
 not asked vou vet, and there will be time enough to do 
 so when he does.' 
 
 ' He will be a very foolish youth indeed if he ever 
 does ; but, so long as you quite understand, the rest is 
 his affair. Luckily, there is very little time left him, 
 for I suppose we shan't stay here much longer ? Every- 
 body is going ; even the Spooners leave the day after 
 to-morrow. When shall we go, dear ? '
 
 124 THE PARI AH 
 
 ' Wlicn T tliink proper, my love,' was the unsatis- 
 factory re])ly. 
 
 ' It must be expensive, staying here, surely ? ' said 
 Miss Chevening, pouting. 
 
 * That, a<ruin, is entirely my affair.' 
 
 Miss Cheveuing shrugged her shoulders as she pre- 
 pared to leave the room. 
 
 * Very well, mother dear, only I warn you I cant 
 go on behaving nicely for ever. I can't guarantee that 
 my patience shall last many days more — he must not 
 try me too far, that is all.' 
 
 Mrs. Chevening made no answer ; when her daughter 
 was gone she went to the window and threw open the 
 wooden shutters as if she felt the need of air. ' If she 
 would only be sensible ! ' she mused aloud ; ' if she will 
 only see things in the proper light — but I am afraid of 
 her — yes, I am afraid of her spoiling everything! ' 
 
 Margot was by no means satisfied with this conver- 
 sation ; it was disagreeable, for one thing, to know that 
 their stay at Trouville — of which place she was heartily 
 tired — was still indefinitely prolonged, but she had 
 other reasons for disquietude. She could place but 
 little confidence in her mother, who, indolent and rather 
 shiftless as she was in most things, was capable occa- 
 sionally of devising, and even following out, a tortuous 
 policy with surprising energy and persistency. And 
 for some time Margot had had an instinctive mis- 
 giving that luT mother was working to secure Allen 
 Chadwick as a son-in-law, and that she already had his 
 father's assent and co-operation.
 
 A REACTION 125 
 
 This was not in any way alarming to Miss Chevening, 
 who felt a calm reliance in her own power to withstand 
 all arguments, prayers, or pressure ; but it made her 
 very indignant that her own mother should know her 
 so little. And then she felt that she herself must 
 have encouraged the delusion lately by her milder 
 demeanour towards this youthful Orson, which was 
 more exasperating than anything else. Tliat mistake, 
 at all events, she resolved she would avoid for the 
 future. 
 
 So that when, that same evening, she found herself, 
 as was her nightly fate, walking by Allen's side behind 
 their respective parents to the Casino, she was once 
 more in her most rebellious mood. How much longer, 
 she wondered wearily, would this go on ? how long 
 before he gave her the chance of refusing him ; he had 
 assumed none of the airs of a wooer as yet — the fact 
 being that he stood in far too much awe of her. 
 
 ' I chaffed those waiter chaps in fine style,' he was 
 saying ; ' did you hear me, Miss Chevening, eh ? ' 
 
 ' You gave me every opportunity of hearing you,' 
 she replied. 
 
 He had passed the head-waiter in the entrance hall, 
 and, in imitation of his father, had been facetious at 
 his expense. 
 
 ' You don't think he minded what I said, eh ? do 
 you ? ' he asked, struck by her tone into sudden mis- 
 givings ; ' he grinned like blazes.' 
 
 ' I dare say it afforded him exquisite amusement,'' 
 said Margot ; ' but if you don't mind, I shall be grateful
 
 ,26 THE PARIAH 
 
 if you will choose any other time fur amusing head- 
 waiters with merry jests of that kind than when you 
 happen to be with me.' 
 
 * Wliy, I only asked him ' he began. 
 
 ' Will you please be quiet ? ' said Miss Chevening, 
 with a very dangerous distinctness. ' I am not at all 
 in a (^ood temper this evening. I would rather not 
 be talked to just now, really.' He glanced at her 
 sideways, scarcely believing she was serious, but the 
 glimpse he had of her drawn eyebrows and the ominous 
 compression of her lower lip gave him, though he was 
 not wise, temporary wisdom to follow her advice until 
 they reached the Casino, 
 
 Arrived there, Mrs. Chevening, after establishing 
 herself with Chadwick on the promenade, playfully sug- 
 gested that Allen must be pining to lose some money at 
 the Race Game, and that dear Margot was always so 
 amused looking on ; she thought perhaps if they would 
 promise not to be very long away, they mujhi — And 
 they went in to the Petits Chevaux, Margot calculating 
 that there, at least, she would have less of his con- 
 versation. 
 
 ' Les Petits Chevaux,' perhaps the best known of all 
 French watering-place games, is not a very reckless or 
 ruinous mode of dissipation — at Trouville, at all events. 
 The fact that the Board has no interest at stake 
 ensures that the game is conducted with exemplary 
 fairness ; each of the little leaden horses is * run to win,' 
 and the greatest plunger cannot lose or gain more than 
 a trifling number of francs on each race. To the largo
 
 A REACTION 127 
 
 number of sportsmen who, to quote one of Mr. Pinero's 
 characters, ' don't know a horse from a ham-sandwich,' 
 Les Petits Chevaux must be a superior kind of race- 
 meeting, with nothing to pay for a stand, and an event 
 run every four minutes instead of every quarter of an 
 hour. 
 
 The speculator has always one chance in eight of 
 gaining seven times his stake, which makes the amuse- 
 ment highly popular with all ages, from shaky old 
 gentlemen and raddled old women, to fresh young girls, 
 and even children, who surround the green cloth and 
 revolving horses as excitedly as if every race were 
 the Derby or the Grand Prix at the very least. 
 
 Margot was standing looking on at the scene, which 
 generally amused her for a short time. All the players 
 were so intensely serious over it ; there was a desperate 
 scramble to seize a ticket from the rack at the end of 
 the stick with which the croupier went round ; bitter 
 jealousies and protestations from the side which he did 
 not happen to visit, for at Trouville there is a limit to 
 the number of tickets sold on each race. The croupiers 
 would ignore dozens of grasping hands, and resist the 
 most bewitching blandishments, with a splendid sense 
 of their own importance ; then came the expectant hush 
 as the spring was pulled, and the gaily-coloured ' field ' 
 went spinning round and round, gradually to separate, 
 slacken, and stop, one by one, until the umpire tri- 
 umphantly announced the number of the winner, and 
 the cashier paid all holders of the corresponding ticket. 
 She saw many of the regular visitors, some who came in
 
 128 THE PARIAH 
 
 time for the opening race about half-past eight and 
 stayed till ten or eleven ; there was the grim old lady 
 with a mouth like a purse, whose husband paid the 
 francs whilst she pocketed any winnings ; there was the 
 old Ansrlo-Parisian who sat in the front row with lack- 
 lustre eyes and took a chance as seldom as possible ; 
 there was the stout person with the pretty face and the 
 bare hands which had such a subtle vulgarity in their 
 movements. Close by were a young married couple 
 trying the effect of a sprig of white heather they had 
 found that morning on the cliff, and a little overdressed 
 child whose mother, in an eccentric hat and toilette, 
 had given her a franc to try her fortune with. 
 
 Near Margot was an old Frenchman who, from 
 constant attendance, had come to acquire a profound 
 knowledge of metal horseflesh ; he could tell as soon as 
 the field began to thin which horse would stop first and 
 where, and was equally excited whether he had any 
 money on the race or not. He resembled other sporting 
 prophets in that his anticipations were not invariably 
 corroborated by the result. 
 
 ' Are you going to have a try, eh ? ' said Allen to 
 her ; ' 111 get you a ticket.' Miss Chevening declined 
 the ofier; she objected to being under the slightest 
 obligation to him ; her pride, too, made her dislike to 
 join in the undignified scramble for francs in that mixed 
 assembly. 
 
 ' ^Vell,' said Allen, ' I think Til have a go in, if you 
 don't mind waiting a bit.' 
 
 ' Here, id ! ' he cried, as the croupier went by with
 
 A RE ACTIO jY 129 
 
 his rack and the little saucer underneatli for the coins ; 
 he snatched a ticket. ' Number three,' he said, ' hasn't 
 won since we've been here, I'm lucky at all this sort 
 of thing. I won a pot the other evening.' 
 
 'I can quite imagine that,' said Margot, with a 
 curling lip, 'you are so very careful not to lose, you 
 see.' 
 
 ' Oh, I've a head on me,' he agreed. ' "What's that 
 fellow calling out ? ' 
 
 ' He is saying that somebody has not paid for his 
 ticket,' said Margot. ' Not very honourable, if it was 
 done on purpose, was it ? ' 
 
 ' Some of these French fellows are up to any dodge,' 
 he answered, and the cashier, having received no reply to 
 his demand for the missing stake, emptied the saucer 
 into his partitioned box with a shrug. 
 
 A curly -haired boy with a saintly face, like the type 
 of the pattern orphan in moral engravings, was pushing 
 the horses into position for a new start, and the race 
 began. ' Le quatre est bon ! ' said the old French- 
 man encouragingly to a neighbour, ' le quatre est 
 tres bon,' 
 
 But No. 4 stops under one of the brass arches on the 
 wrong side of the post. ' Ce sera le sept,' he announced 
 with authority, as No. 7 came gliding nearer and 
 nearer the post. ' Ah, non, il a passe ' (with the 
 deepest melancholy), ' il va mourir . . . . il est mort ! " 
 
 ' Didn't I tell you ! ' cried Allen. ' Look at three 
 going as strong as ever, he'll just romp in — you 
 
 see ! 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 I30 THE PARIAH 
 
 ]\Iargot took no notice of liiin : ' Ce sera le deux,' 
 said the infallible Frencliman again, ' ou le trois ! ' he 
 added. 
 
 ' It's a dead heat,' said Allen, who seemed much 
 excited. ' I do call it cruel luck, don't you ? ' but she 
 would not answer. 
 
 The umpire was measuring the distance from the 
 horses' noses to the post with a piece of string. ' Le 
 trois ! ' he declared, with a grin, ' I'excelleut trois, 
 messieurs et mesdames ! ' and he gave the unsuccessful 
 No. 2 a contemptuous jerk back to the starting point. 
 
 ' Here ! ' shouted Allen to the cashier, ' ici avec la 
 monnaie — cest moi, j'ai le trois: regardez ! ' 
 
 ' I wouldn't excite myself,' said Margot contemp- 
 tuously ; ' they are not likely to cheat you — theij play 
 quite fairly ! ' 
 
 ' By Jove ! ' he exclaimed suddenly, ' I half think it 
 was me who forgot to put the two francs in — they're in 
 my waistcoat pocket now.' 
 
 ' I am sure it was you,' said ]\rargot, ' I was watching.' 
 
 He laughed : ' I've done them finely,' he said ; ' it was 
 " heads I won, tails they lost," and no mistake that time. 
 But I didn't mean to, you know,' he added. ' I was in 
 such a hurry, I didn't notice. I call that a good joke, 
 though, eh ? ' 
 
 ' People's ideas of jokes are so different,' said Margot, 
 as he pocketed his winnings. ' Have you won enough ? ' 
 
 ' Wait a bit .' lie said ; ' I must have another shot. 
 Hear what they're calling out. "Qui desire de la 
 monnaie ? " 1 thought we all wanted money — I do ! '
 
 A REACTION 131 
 
 ' He is only offering small change,' Margot said, as 
 she glanced at him with a weary disgust. 
 
 The principal croupier and umpire, who seemed to 
 regard his duties in a frivolous light, was holding up 
 the remaining ticket on his rack. ' C'est le huit, 
 messieurs, le beau huit, Texcellent huit. Qui veut le 
 huit ? ' 
 
 'Here, I'll have it,' said Allen, and secured it. 
 ' You saw me pay that time ! ' he remarked to Margot, 
 who had not been listening or attending to anything of 
 this. 
 
 Again the innocent-faced boy marshals the field into 
 line and retires meekly to put more tickets into their 
 slits on the racks ; again the horses spin round. 
 
 Eight, as the experienced Frenchman remarks wisely, 
 is always a sluggish animal, and he is true to his repu- 
 tation on this occasion, for he comes to a standstill half 
 way fi'om the post. 
 
 Allen says, ' No luck this time,' and tears up his 
 ticket, while the other horses are still circulating at 
 various rates of speed. But now occurs a curious turn 
 of fortune — all but two have stopped in the rear of 
 number eight; the survivors are gently nearing the 
 winning-post amidst the keenest interest, their impetus 
 being just sufficient to send them past it, and by the 
 rules of the game, to disqualify them from winning, so 
 that the despised number eight, being now the first on 
 the left side of the post, actually becomes the winner 
 after all. 
 
 Allen had torn up his ticket, but the floor was strewn 
 
 E 2
 
 132 THE PARIAH 
 
 with discartled tickets of all numbers, and he picks up 
 one which bears the winning number, but which is of a 
 different colour from the original. 
 
 'Voilil — c'est moi — j'ui gagne ! ' he bawls, as the 
 cashier — not the person who sold him the ticket paper 
 — looks at it and pushes it aside contemptuously. 
 ' Here ! ' shouts Allen, ' payez-moi, do you hear ? Vite ! 
 it's all right, I tell you ; this young lady will tell 
 you it's III! right. Miss Margot, tell them how it 
 was!' 
 
 He looked round as he spoke, and found himself 
 alone. 
 
 Outside one of the large glass doors of the saloon 
 devoted to the Petits Chevaux, sat ^Irs. Chevening and 
 ^Ir. Chadwick, ' You know,' he had said, as he dropped 
 his cigar ash into the tub of an adjoining orange-tree, 
 ' I don't pretend that boy of mine is as smart as I should 
 like to see him, but I'm not going to have him looked 
 down on.' 
 
 ' But indeed,' murmured Mrs. Chevening, with her 
 eyes upon the slanted spears which supported the 
 canvas above the band-kiosk, and which now stood bare 
 against the starlight, ' indeed, dear Mr. Chadwick, it is 
 so very unlikely that anyone could do that. And when 
 he has been a little more in the society of nice English 
 girls ' 
 
 • A\'ell,' he said, ' there's your Miss Margot — she's a 
 nice girl enough, but it strikes me she don't take to 
 him as much as I should like to see.' 
 
 'How can you say so!' cried Mrs. Chevening.
 
 A REACTION 133 
 
 ' Margot's is such a very peculiar nature, so slow in 
 according her friendship — there she is like me — but 
 most loyal when her friendship has once been given ! I 
 could tell you many instances which would quite con- 
 vince you that she and your Allen are admirable friends 
 now — you must have noticed how constantly they are 
 together. I assure you, I never remember her allowing 
 anyone to monopolise her society before. I was quite 
 surprised.' 
 
 ' They are a good deal together,' he admitted. ' I 
 suppose, as you say so, they get on better than they 
 seem to.' 
 
 ' Surely you must see for yourself how much his 
 manners have altered for the better — it is a little edu- 
 cation in itself, being really intimate with a frank, fresh, 
 highbred girl as, although I am her mother, I can't help 
 seeing that she is ; and there is no idea of anything but 
 ordinary friendship on either side. Margot is quite free 
 from any foolish desire to turn a boy's head — you need 
 not be afraid of that.' 
 
 'If she chose to turn it, and marry him, I don't 
 know that I should have much to say against it,' said 
 Chadwick ; ' but I daresay that wouldn't suit ijoit — you 
 don't mind associating with us out here, but if it came 
 to any talk of more, why, it would be good-night, I 
 suppose ? ' 
 
 ' You are very, very unjust ! ' said Mrs. Chevening. 
 ' Who am I to have any ridiculous notions of that sort ? 
 
 Can you possibly imagine — I — I You evidently do 
 
 not understand the value I put upon our acquaintance.
 
 134 THE PARIAH 
 
 1 liave been quite dreading to tliink how soon it wonld 
 be over ! ' 
 
 ' How over ? ' asked Chadwick ; ' we're not so very- 
 far from London, wliere you live. I sball run up now 
 and then, if I don't take a house in town for the season 
 next year. It needn't be over, unless you like.' 
 
 'People always smj that,' she returned; 'but you 
 will have found other friends in your county before that 
 time, and you will soon think it a bore to come all the 
 way to Chiswick to call on us. I am sure Margot will 
 miss her friend Allen — she is so very constant, poor 
 dear.' 
 
 ' Do you mean what you're saying ? ' he replied, 
 bending forward ; ' because ' 
 
 But Mrs. Chevening was not destined to hear the 
 conclusion of this sentence ; for just at that moment a 
 shadow fell between them, and, as they looked up, they 
 saw Margot standing by the orange tree. ' Mr. Chad- 
 wick,' she said, with a calmness which seemed to cost 
 her some effort, ' I think you had better go to your son. 
 He is making rather a disturbance in there.' 
 
 ' Eh, what ? Allen ! ' said Chadwick, rising. ' What 
 is the matter ? ' 
 
 ' You had better ask him,' said I\rargot ; ' but there 
 is really no time to be lost.' 
 
 He went in at once, and l\fargot caught her 
 mother's arm : ' Let us go, mother, quick — before they 
 comeback! I can't speak to liim, 1 can't!' she said 
 hurriedly. Her eyebrows were contracted, and her eyes 
 looked dark and excited in the glare that came through
 
 A REACTION 135 
 
 tlie open doors. Mrs. Clievening saw at once that 
 something was very wrong indeed. ' Don't ask me 
 about it here — let ns go, let us get away from this place 
 first ! ' said Margot. 
 
 'Ton will certainly be better at home,' said her 
 mother, suppressing her displeasure as well as she 
 might, as they went down by the steps from the 
 terrace, and one of the black-liveried and silver- 
 chained Jiuissiers obsequiously let them through the 
 gate. 
 
 When they were walking along the planks in the 
 darkness, Mrs. Chevening said : ' Now, perhajDs, you 
 will tell me what this means.' 
 
 ' He tried to cheat, mother ! ' cried Margot. ' Tvice ! 
 I thought it might be a mistake the first time — but the 
 second they found him out, and he dared — he dared 
 to try to get me to screen him ! ' 
 
 ' What did you say to him ? What did you do ? ' 
 
 ' I ? Nothing. I left him and came to you ; and he 
 was making such a scene — everyone was looking at us ! 
 Oh, mother, if you knew how ashamed I feel to have 
 been there ! ' 
 
 Margot's indignation and disgust were not unnatural 
 under the circumstances, for, as it happened, the 
 number which Allen had drawn on the occasion had 
 not attracted her attention. She had heard him say his 
 horse had lost and had seen him tear up his ticket, and 
 so she was horrified to see him pick up another and 
 present it as if he had won. 
 
 Policy induced Mrs. Chevening to take a charitable
 
 136 THE PARIAH 
 
 and, though she did not suspect it, a correct view of the 
 matter. ' You must have been mistaken,' she said ; ' it 
 is absurd to imagine that a young man who has plenty 
 of pocket-money, as I know, would cheat for a few 
 paltry francs ! ' 
 
 ' I am not mistaken,' said ^fargot ; ' I was there and 
 saw it. If he has plenty it makes it all the worse. I 
 am not surprised ; I knew he was like that. I forced 
 myself to endure him because you wished it ; you will 
 not ask me to humiliate myself any longer after this. 
 You will not, will you ? ' 
 
 ' I am sure it can all be explained,' said Mrs. 
 Chevening. 
 
 ' If you like to listen to any explanations, of course 
 he may give them, but not to me. I will never speak 
 to him asrain. I mean it, mother. I have borne it too 
 long. You must tell him not to expect that I shall 
 take the slightest notice of him.' 
 
 ' That is absurd ! ' said her mother ; ' how can you 
 avoid it in a place like this?' 
 
 ' I will avoid it. I will keep in my room rather 
 than see him and have to speak to him ; if he meets me 
 and dares to behave as if nothing had happened, he 
 shall know what I think of him ! ' declared angry 
 Margot. 
 
 ' Then, my dear,' said Mre. Chevening, ' you will do 
 more mischief than you have any idea of.'
 
 137 
 
 CHAPTER YIII 
 
 AN U^^EXPECTED DELrVT:EAJfCE 
 
 O, he's as tediona 
 As is a tired horse, a railing wife ; 
 Worse than a smoky house : — I had rather live 
 With cheese and garlic in a windmill, far, 
 Than feed on cakes, and have him talk to me ! 
 
 Senry 1 V. Part I. Act 3. 
 
 Gone, and the light gone with her, and left me in shadow here 1 
 
 Gone — flitted away. 
 Taken the stars from the niglit and the sun from the day ! 
 
 T/ie Window. 
 
 ]\iES. Chev'ENIXG said no more just then, and Margot, 
 having given expression to her long pent-up indigna- 
 tion, was wise enough to remain content, so that they 
 reached the Californie in silence. Two tired waiters, 
 possibly the equestrians of that afternoon, were reposing 
 on the divans in the hall, and rose guiltily as they 
 entered. As Margot sat opposite her mother in the 
 lift she thought how sharp and haggard her features 
 looked. ' I'm tired, mother,' she said, as soon as they 
 were alone in the sitting-room of their suite ; ' and I'm 
 sure you are. I think 111 go to bed at once.' 
 
 ' You will stay for a few minutes, if you please,' said 
 Mrs. Chevening, as she untied her evening cloak with
 
 138 THE PARIAH 
 
 hands that were not as steady as usual. ' I want to talk 
 to you a little first, about — about the Chadwicks.' 
 
 Margot sat down with a resigned air. ' Haven't we 
 talked about them enough ? ' she protested. 
 
 ' I want to know if you were serious in what you 
 said down there. Am I to understand that you mean 
 to decline all intercourse whatever witli that boy — or 
 what ? ' 
 
 ' I should like to, but I suppose I can't really do that 
 without a fuss. I shall certainly refuse to go anywhere 
 alone with him.' 
 
 ' You know perfectly well that I have never wished 
 you to do that at any time — I have always been close 
 at hand.' 
 
 ' But I have had to walk with him, to sit next to 
 him, listen to him,' cried Margot impetuously. ' I will 
 not do that any more.' 
 
 ' You mean to show him publicly that you do not 
 consider him fit to speak to you ? ' 
 
 ' He is not fit to speak to me,' she said proudly. 
 ' Even if this had never happened, mother, you nnist 
 know really that I ought not to be forced to treat him 
 as an equal ; his very accent is enough, he is hopelessly 
 common and underbred. I bore everj^thing till to-night ; 
 but can you wish me to let myself be seen with 
 some one who has been found out cheating in a public 
 place like that ? ' 
 
 ' I will spare you all future annoyance from him,' 
 said !^[rs. Chevening ; ' but I must have your promise 
 that you will act sensibly about this. The poor young
 
 AN UNEXPECTED DELIVERANCE 139 
 
 man has been badly brouglit up, and that is very 
 deplorable, no doubt, but we ought to pity him. I 
 can't believe myself that you have not been mistaken 
 in what you thought you saw ; but think of his poor 
 father's feelings if you humiliate his son as you seem 
 bent upon doing.' 
 
 ' Is it my fault if he behaves so as to deserve it ? ' 
 she said. 
 
 ' Mr. Chad wick may be a valuable friend to us some 
 day,' retorted her mother. ' You know nothing of the 
 world, Margot, nor how every year makes it more 
 difficult for me to live and keep out of debt. Your 
 brother and sisters are growing up, and I lie awake 
 night after night, wondering how I am to pro^dde for 
 them all, and what will become of them if anything 
 happens to me. But you think nothing of anyone 
 but yourself — you leave me to make all the sacrifices^ 
 to bear all the burden alone — you will do nothing to 
 help!' 
 
 ' Does that mean,' Margot exclaimed, ' that you 
 hope Mr. Chadwick will lend you money ? Surely we 
 have not sunk to that ! ' 
 
 ' You must mean to insult me by even suggesting such 
 a thing ! ' said Mrs. Chevening passionately. ' How am 
 I to make you understand that it is your duty to me, 
 to your brother and sisters, to obey me in what I ask ? 
 You must not allow this young man to see any difference 
 in your manner — do you hear ? — you must not ! I must 
 have your promise before you leave the room.' 
 
 Margot's hands were entwining themselves feverishly
 
 I40 THE PARIAH 
 
 upon the gandy velvet table-cover. ' blether dear,' she 
 said earnestly, " it's no use ; it'I gave a promise I could not 
 keep it ; it is asking too much — it is indeed ! I know 
 what you want; you are hoping that I might bring 
 myself some day to accept him. I told you before that 
 I could not do that — not even for you and the others. 
 You must give up the idea — nothing would ever make 
 me listen for a single moment ! ' 
 
 ' Am I to tell you again,' said her mother impatiently, 
 ' that I am not asking you to do anything of the sort ? 
 I simply ask you to have a little charity, a little 
 patience, not to do or say anything that can make any 
 breach. Come, you will not be so obstinate and 
 unreasonable as to refuse that ? ' 
 
 It seemed to JMargot that if she did not make a stand 
 then, she would find herself pledged to more than she 
 could fulfil. She felt absolutely unable to promise to 
 restrain the contempt she felt for Allen Chadwick after 
 what had happened — it was not right that she should 
 be called upon to do so. 
 
 ' I do refuse,' she said firmly ; ' I detest him, and I 
 wish him to know that I do.' 
 
 ' Then,' said Mrs. Chevening, ' I will not keep you 
 here, you shall go back to-morrow.' 
 
 If she had any hope of impressing her daughter by 
 this threat, she was undeceived. 
 
 ' Do you mean it — really mean it ? ' cried JNIargot. 
 * Go back to Littlehampton to-morrow and see the 
 children again — get away from those two Chadwicks? 
 Mother, it sounds too delightful to be true ! '
 
 AN UNEXPECTED DELIVERANCE 141 
 
 ' Delightful or not,' replied her mother frostily, ' I 
 mean what I say. I shall go with you as far as Hon- 
 fleur to-morrow, and see you on board the Littlehampton 
 boat ; so you had better have all your things ready in 
 time for the mid-day diligence,' 
 
 ' Then you are not going to Littlehampton, too ? ' 
 cried Margot in surprise. 
 
 ' Certainly not, at present. I am very well content 
 with Trouville, and I can trust myself, though it seems 
 I cannot trust my daughter, to stay for a few days 
 without insulting people who are only anxious to be 
 our friends. It is no pleasure to me to travel any 
 distance with a disobedient, ungrateful girl, I assure 
 you.' 
 
 Margot tried to assume a proper degree of concern, 
 but in her joy at this unhoped for escape, it is to be 
 feared that her mother's displeasure did not cloud her 
 spirits very perceptibly, and her chief alarm that night 
 was lest Mrs. Chevening should change her mind by 
 morning. 
 
 But that lady was evidently in earnest ; she secured 
 places by the diligence and sent off a telegram to Miss 
 Henderson, her governess, at the earliest possible 
 moment, and so managed matters that Margot and she 
 were on the top of the shabby old Honfleur diligence 
 which was toiling up the hill above Trouville at the 
 very time when Mr. Chadwick and his son were search- 
 ing for them diligently on the sands. 
 
 ]\Iargot drew a deep breath of relief as they came 
 out on the level road along the cliff. Behind lay Trou-
 
 142 THE PARIAH 
 
 ville and Deauville glancing and shining in tlio sun. 
 Pleasant as were some of tlio memories they held, her 
 more recent experiences made her anxious to turn her 
 back on them. There she could just make out the im- 
 posing mass of the Casino at the landward end of the 
 long curved jetties with the white lighthouses, as it all 
 lay spread out below. Devoutly she thanked Provi- 
 dence that she would never again be compelled to walk 
 through those rooms under Allen Chadwick's escort. 
 And on her left was the sparkling blue sea which she 
 would cross that night, to find herself by morning at 
 Littlehampton, with Ida and Reggie, and her favourite 
 Lettice. What a relief the placid respectability of that 
 not too lively watering-place would be after Trouville ! 
 So she mused, and her spirits gi'ew lighter and lighter 
 as the diligence jingled drowsily along under tha 
 branching trees, through Hennequeville with its little 
 church, where Margot had seen the model votive-ships 
 hanging up from the dim rafters, past Villerville with 
 its narrow empty streets of tall houses, and down into 
 hilly Honfleur. 
 
 The Littlehampton steamer was lying alongside one 
 of the quays, and was to start at dusk, and ]\rrs. 
 Chevening, wlio had preserved an injured silence 
 througliout the drive, secured a passage, and ^largot 
 and she had a parting meal, which neither found an 
 agreeable one, at one of the hotels before going on 
 board the boat. 
 
 ' 1 Jiiust leave you now,' said ^Mrs. Chevening coldly. 
 ' I wish you had not compelled me to send you away in
 
 AN UNEXPECTED DELIVERANCE 143 
 
 this manner, but I have spoken to the stewardess, and 
 Miss Henderson will meet you at Littlehampton, so 
 you will be safe enough. Good-bye, Margot. I hope 
 on reflection you will see how foolish and wrong you 
 have been,' 
 
 'Good-bye, dear,' said Margot, a little piteously, 
 ' don't be angry with me, and — and you will be with 
 us very soon, won't you ? ' 
 
 ' You will hear — that is, I shall let Miss Henderson 
 know when to expect me.' 
 
 And Mrs. Cheveniug, after going on board the 
 packet and confiding Margot to the care of the 
 stewardess, with a recommendation to keep as much in 
 the ladies' cabin as possible, departed to catch the 
 return diligence to Trouville. She did not altogether 
 like leaving her in this way, but she had no other 
 course, unless she quitted Trouville too, which did not 
 suit her convenience. Margot, besides, was perfectly 
 capable of taking care of herself, and the governess 
 would be on the quay to meet her next morning. 
 
 Margot was conscious of being in disgrace, and, 
 though she was too proud to show it, she felt the 
 frigidity with which her mother took leave of her. Still 
 her chief sensation was always relief — relief at the 
 knowledge that by to-morrow she would have put the 
 Channel between herself and her incubus, Allen Chad- 
 wick. She could not repent of the firmness which had 
 procured her release. And then she was going to her 
 family, the sisters and brother who were more to her 
 than anyone else in the world. So that, before the
 
 144 THE PARIAH 
 
 steamer left the harbour, Miss Chevening had forgotten 
 all that was unpleasant and fallen asleep in a state of 
 perfect contentment. 
 
 Nowhere on Trouville sands could ls\x. Cliadwick 
 discern the becoming foulard costume which was Mrs. 
 Chevening's usual morning dress. He felt a little lost 
 without a companion to whom he had grown so accus- 
 tomed, and his son did not succeed in consoling him 
 for the deprivation. 
 
 At dejeiine7' she and her daughter were absent from 
 their usual places, but still he merely thought that they 
 were away on some excursion for the day. ' If she'd 
 told me she wanted to go anywhere,' he repeated, ' we 
 could have all gone together.' Allen said nothing for 
 some time, until, late in the afternoon, he put into words 
 a fear that had been growing. ' You don"t think 
 they've gone for good?' he suggested, 
 
 ' Without so much as a good-bye, after the way 
 we've been about together ? ' said his father. ' No, I 
 certainly don't think that. But it's odd, because at 
 the Casino last night ' 
 
 ' Do you think she — they were angry with me for 
 having that row with the cashier chap ? ' said Allen 
 flushing. ' That was when I last saw j\Iiss Margot. I 
 looked round, and she was gone. I've been wondering 
 why ever since.' 
 
 ' Do you know why she went, eh ? She came to 
 tell me you were in a mess of some sort, and ask me 
 to go to you. What do you think of that ? She was as 
 flustered and eager as if you'd been her own brother. I
 
 AN UNEXPECTED DELIVERANCE 145 
 
 believe she thought the establishment were going to 
 do something very bad to you ! ' 
 
 A great weight was off Allen's mind ; he was over- 
 joyed to hear for the first time that stately Miss 
 Chevening had concerned herself on his account ; it 
 gave a new fervour to his devotion. He had been 
 tormenting himself with fantastic fears that she had 
 resented his playing at the Petits Chevaux, and had 
 gone away in disgust. 
 
 • So she did stay, till that began ? " he exclaimed. 
 ' I wish she had seen the finish of it. Why, they gave 
 in directly they saw I was the only claimant. I wasn't 
 going to see them do me out of my winnings, no fear, 
 if I had torn up the ticket ! ' 
 
 ' Well, you can tell her all about it at dinner to- 
 night. She regularly frightened me at first. I expected 
 to find you in for a duel — pistols or swords — first thing 
 in the morning ! She was so upset she got her mother 
 to take her home at once, and that's how we missed 
 them." 
 
 But at the talle d'hote that evening Mr. Chad- 
 wick found one of the waiters drawing back Mrs. and 
 Miss Cheveniug's chairs for two strangers. ' Here, 
 garpon, hold on,' he said, ' those two are engaged — 
 those ladies, who always sit here —you know that well 
 enough.' 
 
 ' Pardon, but they have leave ; they have their 
 baggages by the omnibus for the diligence to Honfleur 
 this morning. I was to see them depart,' said the 
 waiter with a grin. 
 
 VOL. I. L
 
 146 THE PARIAH 
 
 Mr. Cbadwick was plainly biglily disconcerted by 
 this information, tliougli be passed it off at the time. 
 ' All rif(ht,' be said ; ' it's all the same to me — don't 
 like seeing people turned out of their proj^er seats, 
 that's all.' 
 
 But afterwards he waxed exceedingly bitter over it 
 to Allen. I can't understand it,' he said over and over 
 again ; ' it beats me. I sujjpose Ive been away from 
 England so long. But if ever a woman regularly went 
 out of her way to be friendly, she did. And the money 
 I've spent to make things pleasant and agreeable for 
 her ! Not that I grudge it, that's neither here nor there ; 
 Init to go off without a word or even a line to say she 
 was sorry to have to go, or hoped we might meet again, 
 or anything of the sort ! If that's Society manners, all 
 I can say is, no more fine ladies for me ! Just make 
 use of you as long as it's convenient, and then throw 
 you off' like one of their gloves ! Tm downright dis- 
 gusted with the pair of them. I thought tliey had 
 more gratitude ! ' 
 
 ' Perhaps they couldn't help themselves — I mean, 
 going away so suddenly,' suggested Allen ; it was what 
 he wanted to believe himself, and anything that was a 
 reflection on Margot gave him a curious pain. The sug- 
 gestion, however, drew down his father's anger upon his 
 own head. 
 
 'Couldn't help themselves? You don't know 
 what you are talking about! I Icll vou tliov could 
 have helpel themselves if they'd chosen to. And 
 now I come to think of it, it's as likelv as not that
 
 AN UNEXPECTED DELIVERANCE 147 
 
 that precious affair at the Casino last night did the 
 business ! " 
 
 ' But,' stammered Allen, ' didn't 3-ou say Miss Margot 
 came and told you to come to me ? There "was no dis- 
 grace in what I did ! ' 
 
 ' The mother may have got hold of some garbled ac- 
 count. She's a proud tempered woman, and naturally 
 she wouldn't like her daughter to be seen going about 
 with a fellow who'd got himself mixed up in a public 
 row at the Casino. About a few paltry francs, too ! " 
 he burst out, allowing his wrath to escape by this con- 
 venient channel. ' I wish to God vou could break your- 
 self of these low ways and behave more like a gentle- 
 man ! I'd have paid you the money ten times over 
 sooner than have this happen ! What's the good of my 
 going and making acquaintances if you drive 'em out of 
 the place ? ' 
 
 This was the first time that ;Mr. Chadwick had 
 spoken to his son in auger, and the first time, also, that 
 he had ever seemed to show any consciousness of his 
 son's deficiencies. Allen was silent, stunned almost by 
 this tirade ; but what affected him chiefly was a terrible 
 fear that his father was right. 
 
 The blow had been bitter enough as it was ; he could 
 hardly realise even yet that he had lost his beautiful 
 companion without the slightest warning ; but the 
 thought that his own folly was the cause was intoler- 
 able. Yet he made no effort to defend himself; he felt 
 a singular reluctance to speaking of Miss Ch evening to 
 his father at all, and he dreaded lest, if he said anything 
 
 L 2
 
 148 THE PARIAH 
 
 more, he miglit be compelled to give up the last linger- 
 iui^^ hope that he had had no share in bringing about 
 her sudden departure. 
 
 Miss Chevening had been, for her, quite gracious of 
 late, and he had never — luckily for his peace of mind — 
 suspected the dislike and contempt that lay beneath 
 her passive endurance of him. As he became more at 
 ease with her, he found himself able to talk, and her 
 replies gave him no impression other than that she 
 was a little absent-minded sometimes. 
 
 So that Allen, for the first time in his life, had 
 passed a sort of enchanted existence, privileged to ac- 
 company, day after day, this lovely princess who hardly 
 seemed to belong to ordinary life, and whom he did not 
 expect to treat him quite as an equal. It was enough 
 for him that she allowed him to be with her, spoke to 
 hiiii now and then of her own accord, and smiled, ever 
 so indifferently, on rare occasions. 
 
 She was gone ; all the people and things he saw 
 had associations of some kind with her. He noted them 
 inwardly as he walked on by his father's side, and at each 
 he felt his heart grow sorer and heavier, and he hardly 
 heard the elder man's stormy reproaches as his anger 
 vented itself in rapid alternation upon Mrs, Chevening, 
 her daughter, and his sou. Anyone who had seen the 
 piiir walking along the resounding boards would have 
 noticed no more than a high-coloured, loose-mouthed 
 man apparently lecturing a sulky, common-looking 
 youth, who appeared absolutely unimpressed, and im- 
 peJiitent. Of the utter blaukness, the inward dragging
 
 AN UNEXPECTED DELIVERANCE 149 
 
 pain that Allen was feeling, he gave and could give no 
 sign whatever. 
 
 So throughout the remainder of that miserable day 
 Mr. Chadwick indulged his feelings, and Allen listened 
 with a sense that nothing mattered very much now ; he 
 would almost rather have been still drudging away at 
 his desk in the city warehouse than suffer the desolation 
 that had come upon him. 
 
 The next morning, when they came in to dejeuner^ 
 Mr. Chadwick still occupied with his grievance, there 
 sat Mrs. Chevening in her usual place, fresh and smiling 
 and serene ! Allen felt his heart leap. Had a miracle 
 happened, then ? Would he see Margot again after all ? 
 
 His father stared as if he had seen a ghost ; he could 
 not throw off his resentment all at once — it had struck 
 too deep ; he nodded brusquely as he sat down. 
 
 ' They told me here you'd left Trouville,' he said ; 
 ' did you think better of it or what ? ' 
 
 ' Surely you had a better opinion of me than that ! ' 
 cried Mrs. Chevening plaintively. ' As if I should have 
 gone away altogether without thanking you for all 
 your kindness. What must you think of me ? ' 
 
 ' Well, so long as you're not gone,' said Chadwick, 
 his face clearing ; ' we couldn't think, my boy and I, 
 what had become of you all yesterday.' 
 
 ' It was all so very sudden,' said Mrs. Chevening, 
 who had prepared herself for this emergency ; ' you 
 know I have left my younger darlings at Littlehampton, 
 in lodgings, my second girl is so delicate. Well, only 
 yesterday morning, Margot had a letter in which Ida
 
 I50 THE PARIAH 
 
 begged her so pathetically not to stay away much 
 lonsrer that Marffot insisted that she must be worse and 
 begged to go at once. Dear ^M argot is so perfectly de- 
 voted to Ida, and she to her ; and so, though it was quite 
 absurd, as I told her, and I really couldn't leave Trou- 
 ville myself so soon, unless I was wanted, I saw it would 
 be too cruel to keep Margot, and I took her over to 
 Honfleur and put her on board the boat for Littlehamp- 
 ton. Poor darling, it was only her sense of duty made 
 her go. She was quite sorry to go when it came to 
 parting ! ' 
 
 Like many of Mrs. Chevening's mis-statements, this 
 contained a certain amount of truth ; there had been a 
 letter, which came as they were starting, and which 
 expressed Ida's longing for her sister's return. 
 
 Allen's hopes subsided as quickly as they had risen, 
 and yet his worst fears were relieved — she had not left 
 on his account. 
 
 ' Sorry she deserted us like that,' said his father ; 
 ' but very creditable to her, I'm sure. Allen will have to 
 amuse himself alone now.' 
 
 ' Dear Margot w-as so anxious that I should ex- 
 plain,' said her mother mendaciously, ' she quite hoped 
 to have seen him before leaving. I was to deliver all 
 manner of kind messages. She is so warm-hearted ; 
 she felt so afraid of seeming ungrateful, and I think 
 she will miss her Trouville companion,' she added 
 graciously. 
 
 Allen coloured to the eyes : ' I shall miss lic)\ ma'am,' 
 he said awkwardly ; but he was almost consoled — she
 
 AN UNEXPECTED DELIVERANCE 151 
 
 had remembered him, she liked him better than she had 
 let him see, then — he fell into a rapture of adoration 
 at the thought. 
 
 Later, when he had gone, and Mr. Chadwick was 
 sitting with Mrs. Chevening alone in the big hall, he 
 said, still a little suspiciously : ' What made you leave 
 the Casino the other evening so suddenly ? ' 
 
 Mrs. Chevening had her answer ready : ' It was very 
 foolish of me,' she said, ' but Margot was so terribly 
 upset — she thought Allen was in some trouble, and I 
 really had to take her home. You know — or perhaps 
 you don't know — that she almost looks upon him as a 
 sort of big brother, she was so interested in him from the 
 very first. I hope,' she ventured, feeling herself on rather 
 delicate ground, 'that there was no — no quarrel or un- 
 pleasantness ? ' 
 
 ' Lord, no ! ' said Mr. Chadwick ; ' it was their mis- 
 take — they acknowledged it before I came up,' — and he 
 explained how the affair had ended. 
 
 ' Poor Allen ! ' Mrs. Chevening commented ; ' how 
 insolent these croupier men are ! Margot will be so 
 anxious to hear how it ended, she spoke of nothing else 
 all the evening. How clever of him to insist on his rights 
 and not let himself be cheated ! ' 
 
 ' Oh, he's a smart chap— in some ways,' said his 
 father, in whose opinion Allen was now quite restored. 
 ' That's where a business training comes in, 3'ou see ; 
 makes 'em know the value of money, and take care 
 they're not done. So your Miss Margot was making 
 herself unhappy about it, eh ? Well, I like that ; I didn't
 
 152 THE PARIAH 
 
 think, between ourselves, she took so much interest in 
 liim.' 
 
 ' You don't know Margot ! She does not easily attach 
 herself, but when her liking is once gained — It may sound 
 conceited to say so, but I do think anxj young man might 
 be proud to have my daughter for a friend. She is not 
 easy to please ; perhaps you noticed that she would 
 scarcely have anything to say to that Mr. Orme, clever 
 and self-confident as he was.' 
 
 ' I don't know that I noticed one way or the other,' 
 said Mr. Chadwick bluntly ; ' but you don't think there's 
 any chance that Allen might — eh?' 
 
 ' No,' said Mrs. Chevening, ' oh, dear no, pray don't 
 imagine that for an instant — it is quite what I said ; she 
 looks upon him as a big brother, who has never had a 
 sister of his own — a sister can do so much for a young 
 man. I always think, you know, that nothing can 
 quite supply the want of female influence in a boy's 
 life.' 
 
 ' He had his aunt,' said Mr. Chadwick ; ' but I know 
 what you mean — he h rough, poor chap ; lie don't feel 
 at home in a drawing-room, even alone with me. I wish 
 T could see my way clearer, for my sake, as well as his ! ' 
 He said no more at the time — but Mrs. Chevening knew 
 that her words had not been lost upon him. 
 
 ^I argot was able to sleep on board the steamer, 
 which is more than she would have done had she fore- 
 seen the kind of colour witli wliit-li her secession would 
 be invested by her mother's policy. She woke early, 
 however, and went on deck, eager to see the familiar
 
 AN UNEXPECTED DELIVERANCE 153 
 
 coast-line once more ; and, as she reached the top of the 
 brass-edged steps, she saw a face she did not immedi- 
 ately recognise, though its owner had evidently a better 
 memory. ' You know me well enough, miss, though it 
 may not suit you to own to it,' said the woman, and, at 
 the voice, Margot knew at once that she had had the 
 ill-tempered nursemaid Susan for a fellow-passenger. 
 
 Susan was looking, and knew she was looking, 
 wofully green and dishevelled beside Margot, whose 
 face, even in the raw morning air, was almost as fresh 
 and fair as if she had never left the shore. Perhaps 
 this gave an additional acerbity to the maid's manner. 
 ' I've reason enough to remember you, miss,' she added, 
 'and I shan't forget you in a hurry.' 
 
 ' I remember you perfectly,' said Margot. ' If the 
 sight of me reminds you to treat your unfortunate charge 
 more kindly, I hope you never will forget me,' and she 
 was about to turn away and think no more of it, but 
 the girl placed herself in her way, and Margot saw that 
 she was trembling with passion. 
 
 ' I wouldn't be a nippercrit, miss,' she said. ' I'd 
 have the courage of my opinions, I would.' 
 
 Miss Chevening's eyes opened to their haughtiest 
 width : ' I haven't the slightest idea what you're talking 
 about,' she said in her low incisive tones ; ' but you 
 needn't explain, I don't want to know in the least.' 
 
 ' Ah, but I want you to know,' said Susan. ' You 
 don't take ine in with your innocent ways and pretended 
 ignorance. You look a proud one, but you don't think 
 it beneath you to hound a poor girl out of her place
 
 154 THE PARIAH 
 
 behiml lier back. My missis, as was a laily if ever 
 there was one, tliougb French, she'd never have give 
 me notice but for tale-tellers cominj' tellinjj lies a'^ainst 
 me. I know better, tlon't talk to me ! ' 
 
 ' I don't intend to,' said Margot. 
 
 ' No, you can't face me — that's how it is,' said 
 Susan, sticking her hands into the pockets of her smart 
 ulster ; ' no wonder, taking the bread out of my mouth 
 as you have, and anomalous too — so mean ! ' 
 
 Miss Chevening began to be afraid that a crowd 
 would collect round them, but foi'tunately the few pas- 
 sengers who were on deck had gone forward and Susan's 
 voice, which was growing louder and more violent, was 
 drowned by the din and carried aft by the breeze. 
 
 ' Listen to me, you foolish girl,' said Margot ; ' if 
 your mistress has sent you away for not treating her 
 son properly, it is only what you deserve and I am glad 
 of it. Still, if you have no friends to go to and want 
 help while you are looking for another place, I would 
 willingly ' 
 
 ' Take your money after what you've done ! ' said 
 the girl. ' Id rather die in the workhouse. Luckily for 
 me, I'm in no want of friends nor money neither, so 
 you won't undo what youve done that way ; you must 
 feel yourself you've acted shabby, or you wouldn't make 
 such a offer ! ' 
 
 ^largot's patience gave way at this. ' You are an 
 ungrateful idiot,' she said contemptuously, 'or you 
 wouldn't have such ideas at all ; but if it gives you any 
 comfort to believe that I accused you secretly, go on
 
 AN UNEXPECTED DELIVERANCE 155 
 
 believing- it bv all means, it can make no difference to 
 me ; only be so good as to leave me in peace.' 
 
 ' That's an easy way to put it off,' said Susan ; ' but, 
 never mind, perhaps some day your turn'll come, and 
 you'll see how you like such treatment.' I've said all 
 I mean to say, and, now you know what I think of you, 
 I'll say good morning and thanks for past favours 
 received and may I live to see 'em returned ! ' 
 
 Margot was indignant, though a little amused, too, 
 that this unamiable girl should regard her as an anony- 
 mous persecutor, but she was too supremely indifferent 
 to dream of trying to convince the ex-nurse of her 
 mistake, and perhaps to attempt it might have been 
 trouble thrown away. So Susan landed and went on 
 her way, more firmly convinced than ever that she 
 owed the loss of her situation with the wealthy Parisians 
 to Margot Chevening — instead, as was actually the case, 
 to one of her foreign fellow-servants.
 
 156 THE PARIAH 
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 A CLOUD FKOM ACKOSS THE SEA 
 
 It was a week since Margot's abrupt departure from 
 Normandy, and as yet her motlier had fixed no date for 
 rejoining her family at Littlehampton, nor for their 
 general return to London. She had written, it was 
 true, but only to Miss Henderson, and to the effect that 
 the lodgings should be retained until she wrote again. 
 ' It's too bad of mother to keep us in this poky little 
 place/ Ida declared fretfully ; ' I am quite strong again 
 now, and I'm sure there's nothing here to stay for 
 longer than one can possibly help.' They were walking 
 along the shore towards Worthing — ^largot, Ida, and 
 ^liss Henderson — and as she spoke Ida tume'd and 
 looked back at the row of lodging-houses, the wind- 
 mills, and the unassuming little jetty and lighthouse, 
 which, gilded by the September haze, comprised the 
 main features of Littlehampton. 'Ida, darling,' pro- 
 tested the governess, ' don't be ungrateful — remember 
 wbat you were when you came, and what you are 
 now.' There was nothing of tin- invalid in Ida 
 Chevening's appearance just then. Tall — a little too
 
 A CLOUD FROM ACROSS THE SEA 157 
 
 t-all, perhaps, for a girl of sixteen — slie promised a 
 figure as faultless as her elder sister's when her 
 strength should be completely regained, and the transi- 
 tionary period was passed. She would be beautiful, too, 
 though her face would never have the animation and 
 decision which made Margot"s so diflficult to forget. 
 She was indolent and somewhat weak by nature, and 
 . delicate health had encouraged her disposition to cling 
 to others. She was impulsive, and, perhaps from being 
 so much in Miss Henderson's company, decidedly senti- 
 mental, not to say affected. Miss Henderson was the 
 type of governess least fitted for the charge of a girl of 
 Ida's age and disposition. She was young and pro- 
 duced a first impression of being good-looking — Ida 
 thought her lovely, and was constantly assuring her of 
 the fact. She had a few showy accomplishments, no 
 solid education. She knew how to behave, especially 
 when Mrs. Chevening was present, but it was always 
 behaviour, not breeding, as her i^atroness perceived 
 clearly enough, though she saw no reason for parting 
 with her on that account. ' Henderson was useful and 
 cheap ; she made no inconvenient fuss when her salary 
 was (as happened not infrequently) in arrears; the 
 children liked her, she would do well enough,' thought 
 Mrs. Chevening, who, in fact, could not afford to risk a 
 chansfe. But between Margot and Miss Henderson 
 there was always a certain distance : Miss Chevening 
 instinctively disliking certain slight but unmistakable 
 indications of underbreediug which revealed themselves 
 in the other's more unguarded moments, and the
 
 158 THE PARIAH 
 
 governess perceiving and resenting a coolness which she 
 chose to ascribe to joalousy. 
 
 Id:i, however, was an enthusiastic heroine-wor- 
 shipper, and saw no shortcomings. ' If I'm well now,' 
 she said in answer to Miss Hendersons last remon- 
 strance, ' I owe it all to you, dear darling Hennie. I 
 believe I should have died if it hadn't been for you ! ' 
 
 ' You were certainly very ill when we came, and 
 that night I sat up with you was an awfully anxious 
 one for us all, dearest Ida,' said the governess. ' That 
 was after you had gone to Trouville,' she explained to 
 Margot, 
 
 ' I think it was a pity you did not tell us at the 
 time, then,' said ]\Iargot ; ' the doctor assured us that 
 you were quite out of danger, Ida, or I would never 
 have left you.' 
 
 ' I wouldn't have you told,' said Ida ; ' you mustn't 
 blame poor Hennie.' And she took the governess's 
 hand and fondled it affectionately. To Margot, who 
 had considerable doubts of any real relapse at all, this 
 seemed unhealthv and exao:o:erated, but she was too 
 deeply attached to her sister to be capable of saying a 
 word to check her effusions, and besides it would only 
 weaken such influence as she still retained over Ida. 
 
 ' But 1 am longing to get away from this place,' 
 continued Ida presently, ' it is too horridly slow. Don't 
 you hate it, Margot ? But no — I believe you actually 
 like it ! ' 
 
 ' I believe I actually do," said ^fargot, laughing, and 
 she spoke the truth. After all I he bustle and glare of
 
 •'A CLOUD FROM ACROSS THE SEA 159 
 
 Trouville, there was something restful and quieting in 
 the unpretentious little Susses watering-place, to say 
 nothing of the unspeakable relief she felt at her deliver- 
 ance from Allen Ohadwick. And it was such a lovely 
 afternoon, with a lazy purple sea lapping far away, and 
 the sky above their heads a perfect azure, repeated in 
 the rills which channelled the sands. There was a touch 
 of autumn chill in the air, and the reeds and bushes 
 along the low coast were turning yellow and russet, but 
 she felt braced and invigorated as she trod the elastic 
 sand, on which the gulls had left their footprints in in- 
 numerable little tridents. She was too happy just then to 
 remember with any regret that other shore across the sea 
 where she had had one experience at least that she could 
 look back upon without reluctance. But even Nugent 
 Orme had not left an ineffaceable impression on her 
 mind. Any element of romance Trouville might have 
 contained for her had been slain by other recollections ; 
 and, besides, Mr. Orme was in England somewhere. 
 There was not much to inspirit her in that fact, but 
 somehow it filled up the measure of her content in being 
 where she was. 
 
 ' I cant think how you can endure it ! ' Ida declared, 
 ' especially after Trouville. I am sure Trouville must 
 have been lovely. I would never have left it till I was 
 obliged. You never tell us anything about what you 
 did there, Margot ; it's rather mean of you.' 
 
 ' There is so very little to tell. I was very glad to 
 get away from it,' said Margot. 
 
 ' But why ? It must have been better fun than this.
 
 i6o THE PARIAH 
 
 Weren't the people at the hotel pleasant ? Was it 
 motJier — or what ? ' 
 
 ' Some of the people were — not very pleasant,' said 
 ^Margot. 
 
 'Mother wouldn't know people who were not all 
 right, would she ? She's generally so awfully par- 
 ticular.' 
 
 ' She knew these people,' said !Margot ; ' they were 
 quite respectable. He was, or had been, an indigo- 
 planter, I believe, and very well off, but — well, I disliked 
 them.' 
 
 * Was there a Mrs. Indigo-planter ? ' inquired Ida ; 
 ' was it she ? ' 
 
 'There was only this Mr. Chadwick,' said Margot, 
 looking out to sea, ' and — and his son.' 
 
 ' Now we're beginning to be told something,' said 
 Miss Henderson, slily ; ' please go on.' 
 
 ' There is nothing to tell, Camilla, as it happens,' 
 said Margot. 
 
 ' But the son made love to you — I'm sure he did ; 
 now didn't he ? ' 
 
 ' Thank goodness, no ; he would not have dared,' 
 said Margot. ' You are so very romantic, Camilla. 
 But it was quite bad enough as it was ; and, if you 
 please, we wont talk about it any more ; it is over 
 now.' 
 
 ' Just tell us this, and we won't want to know any 
 more,' said Ida. ' Was hv. handsome ? 1 ni sure he 
 was handsome — and rather conceited, wasn't he, 
 Margot ? '
 
 A CLOUD FROM ACROSS THE SEA i6i 
 
 ' You are quite a witch, dear,' Margot replied, with 
 rather a malicious little laugh. 
 
 'Poor Margot,' said Ida sympathetically; 'never 
 mind, it will all come right in time.' 
 
 ' It has come right already,' said Margot lightly ; 
 ' and now suppose we drop the Chadwicks : it is time to 
 turn back.' 
 
 They walked back by the shore, and as they reached 
 Littlehampton and were tramping over the shingle to 
 the modest esplanade, a pretty little figure came flut- 
 tering down to meet them. 
 
 ' Why, Lettice,' said Margot, as the child clung to 
 her hand, ' where's nurse ? ' 
 
 ' Nurse ? oh, she"s playing cricket with Reggie on 
 the green somewhere ; she's getting to bowl quite nicely 
 now, 3"ou know, though it's a pity she can"t bat better. 
 IVe been running about with Yarrow, and oh, Margot, 
 I've had quite an adventure ! I had been playing 
 cricket with Reggie, but I got him out thi-ee times run- 
 ning and he wouldn't <jo (that wasn't fair of him, was 
 it ?), so I left him, and then I had the adventure. I 
 was throwing my ball for Yarrow to run after — he 
 wouldn't let me alone till I did — and there was some on^ 
 — a man, not at all old — lying dowTi on the beach, and 
 — I didn't mean it. but the ball bounced somehow, and 
 oh, Margot, what do you think ? — it hit him in the eye ! 
 I was dweadfully sony ' (Lettice was eight, but she was 
 still a little uncertain about her r's when excited, and 
 had to bear some teasing;' from her brother in conse- 
 quence), ' but I went up and apologised directly, of 
 VOL. I. M
 
 ,62 THE PARIAH 
 
 course, and he said ho wasn't hurt much (it was the 
 india-rubber ball), and then he asked me my name, so of 
 course I told him, and then ' (and here Lettice's golden- 
 brown eyes grew larger) ' he asked if I had a sister 
 called Margot, and told nie he knew you quite well, 
 and had met you over in France— dtci he meet you, 
 M argot ? ' 
 
 A sudden consciousness deepened Margot's colour ; 
 could it be ? Was Nugent Orme here ? Had he come 
 
 with any idea of finding her, and if he had ? 
 
 ' I can't tell till I have seen him, can I ? ' she said. 
 ' Very likely I have met him.' 
 
 ' That wasn't all,' said Lettice ; * he asked me — 
 that was when we got more consequential — he asked 
 me " would I mind being his sister some day." ' 
 
 <■ He — asked you that ? ' exclaimed ]\Iargot, with a 
 keen resentment. How could Mr. Orme have allowed 
 himself to say such a thing to a child ! ' You must have 
 misunderstood him, Lettice.' 
 
 Lettice shook her head. ' But I didnt, :Margot ; he 
 said it ever so many times — he told me it was all 
 settled. Only I do not understand how I ever can be 
 his sister — do you., Margot ? ' 
 
 'No. dear,' said Margot. 'He made a very great 
 mistake if he really told you so.' That Nugent Orme 
 could be guilty of such presumption, should actually 
 take her consent for granted in this way, filled her with 
 the keenest ve.xation, and yet she found it almost im- 
 possible to believe. If it should be true, she felt with 
 some bitterness that whatever place he had begun to
 
 A CLOUD FROM ACROSS THE SEA 163 
 
 occupy in lier thoughts would be vacant now. "What 
 could she have said or done to give him such an im- 
 pression ? Well, he would learn that he was less irre- 
 sistible than he seemed to imagine. 
 
 ' But what was he like, this mysterious person ? ' 
 questioned Ida, with a mischievous enjoyment of her 
 elder sister's agitation ; ' describe him, Lettice.' 
 
 Description was not Lettice's strong point. ' He 
 was like — well, not like anything in particular,' she 
 said ; ' and I'm sure he said that mother and his father 
 had settled it all, and that I was to be his sister soon.' 
 
 ' His father ! ' exclaimed Margot, with a sudden 
 illumination. It was she who had taken too much for 
 granted, not Nugent Orme, who had probably never 
 given her a second thought since he left Trouville. 
 And the person who made so sure of her consent was 
 her Mte noire — the raw lad from whose society she 
 thought she had delivered herself for ever. 
 
 ' It strikes me,' said Miss Henderson to her, ' we 
 have not been told the whole story of your little 
 Trouville romance yet, dear. When are we to know 
 all?' 
 
 ' Run on to the house and tell them we're coming, 
 Lettice,' said Margot ; and waiting till the child had 
 gone, she turned to the governess : ' There is nothing 
 to know,' she said, a little haughtily. ' I hate that kind 
 of joking, Camilla. If you saw him, you would under- 
 stand how it annoys me. But what is the use of talk- 
 ing about it ? Nothing that anyone said would change 
 my mind. If this Chadwick boy — for that is all he is 
 
 M •!
 
 1 64 THE PARIAH 
 
 — is reallv here, you will see him for yourselves, sooner 
 or later. Then you will know.' 
 
 ' A foreign postcard from mother,' announced 
 Reo-orie, who was already seated at the tea-table. 
 ' She'll be here by the steamer to-morrow, and wants 
 Margot to meet her and nobody else. I wonder why 
 we mayn't all go ! ' 
 
 Ida looked at j\Iargot with an almost envious 
 interest ; she was to be a heroine in a real love-affair, 
 then, this beautiful sister of hers ; she would be pressed 
 to accept an unwelcome lover, just as in so many of the 
 novels Heunie and herself had been delighting in of 
 late. Would Margot yield, or remain obstinate? 
 Either way it would be very interesting, Ida thought ; 
 she was sure this planter's son was nice really, if 
 IMargot would only see it — very likely they had had a 
 quarrel. 
 
 Margot was looking forward to meeting her mother 
 with a certain excitement. Evidently this project of 
 uniting her to young Chadwick was not abandoned. 
 Allen himself apparently regarded it as settled. Margot 
 was not afraid ; she did not see what new arguments 
 her mother could urge that could shake her determina- 
 tion. There might be cases in which a daughter was 
 bound to sacrifice hei-self for the family, but this was 
 not one of them; even if it was, she thought, she would 
 have enough strength of mind to repudiate the obliga- 
 tion. No, she felt perfectly safe ; no one could force 
 her to marry against her will. 
 
 And vet, when she was alone that nii^ht and lav in
 
 A CLOUD FROM ACROSS THE SEA 165 
 
 her room, listening to tlie monotonous roll of ttie sea, 
 a sudden restless dread overcame her as she thought 
 of the steamer which was even then ploughing its way 
 across the waves ; what if it were carrying some sentence 
 which, with all her courage, she would find herself 
 powerless to resist ? She rose at last, from some half- 
 superstitious impulse, and went to the window. The 
 amber harvest moon was casting its shimmer on the 
 calm sea and bathing the little harbour and jetty in 
 mellow radiance, but beyond, where the French coast 
 lay, a black cloud loomed up ominously, and seemed to 
 be shooting a long arm across the sky towards her. 
 With a little laugh at her own weakness, Margot drew 
 the blind, and shut out the sight.
 
 Book H. 
 
 KICKING AGAINST THE PEICKS
 
 169 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 SCYLLA AND CHARYBDIS 
 
 Thou sweetest sister in the world, hast never a word for me ? 
 
 Tlce Lay of the Brown Rosary. 
 
 ]\IiSS Chevening had risen betimes next morning and 
 gone down to the quay. It was cold and cloudy, and 
 there was a light autumn fog on the sea, but Margot 
 was sustained against all atmospherical influences just 
 then; she was about to know on what grounds her 
 mother conceived that she could exact her submission. 
 The spirit of opposition was roused, she felt strong 
 enough to meet all appeals with an unflinching negative. 
 And as she passed the quaint old whitewashed hotel, 
 which at that time still stood on an isolated piece of the 
 green, some one, who seemed to have been waiting for 
 this, came out from the porch, and advanced, sheepishly 
 enough, to meet her. Margot watched him with a 
 sardonic amusement ; that clumsy bow and self-conscious 
 flush of his pleased her mood just then— ^/m's was the 
 person her mother considered a suitable companion for 
 her for life. 
 
 ' I — I thought you'd be likely to come this way,' he 
 said. ' I hope you've been pretty well since I saw you
 
 I70 THE PARIAH 
 
 last . . . Margot ? ' He brought out her Christian 
 name witli an evident effort, wliich by its very abject- 
 ness disarmed her to some extent ; he seemed too 
 pitiable just then in his liumble anxiety to propitiate 
 her. 
 
 ' I am quite well, Mr. Chadwick,' she said. ' I 
 hardly expected to see you so soon — are you staying 
 here ? ' 
 
 ' Came over yesterday with the governor,' he 
 explained ; * I was trying to get a sight of you all day, 
 but I didn't like to give you a look up at your 
 lodgings.' 
 
 ' That would have been rather an odd thing to do, 
 would it not ? ' said ]\Iargot. 
 
 ' I wanted to tell you something,' he resumed 
 nervously ; ' I — I dare say you'll laugh, but I haven't 
 been able to get out of my mind that perhaps that night 
 before 3'ou went away, at the Casino, you fancied ' 
 
 ' Oh, please ! ' protested IMargot, ' don't let us go 
 back to Trouville ! I have forgotten it. I want to 
 forget all that hateful time.' 
 
 ' No, but listen,' he said. ' I'm going down to meet 
 the boat — we may as well go together ; ' and he poured 
 into her unwilling ears a rapid vindication of his 
 behaviour at the Petits Chevaux table. 
 
 ' Very well,' said ^Margot, as he finished ; ' but you 
 need not have given yourself so much trouble to tell me 
 all this, Mr. Chadwick. 1 don't see that it is of very 
 much importance now, you know.' 
 
 ' More than ever, now,' he said.
 
 SCYLLA AND CHARYBDIS 171 
 
 Marofot felt driven to bav. ' You seem to me to 
 mean something ? You meant something yesterday — if 
 it was really you who spoke to my little sister. Will you 
 kindly explain? Did you, or didn't you, inform her 
 that you meant to^to become her brother very soon ? ' 
 
 ' If I did,' said Allen, ' it was nothing but true — 
 surely you've been told all about it ! ' 
 
 ' My consent to such a very desirable arrangement 
 was naturally taken for granted ! ' retorted Margot 
 bitterly ; ' still, Mr. Chadwick, you might have paid me 
 the compliment of waiting.' 
 
 ' I ! ' exclaimed Allen ; ' it was none of my doing ! ' 
 
 ' You are extremely candid/ said Miss Chevening, 
 with a slight laugh, ' I will be candid, too. If anyone 
 has persuaded you to believe that I " 
 
 ' Stop ! ' cried Allen, with more delicacy than might 
 have been expected from him, perhaps. ' I see what 
 you're thinking. I know well enough you could never 
 come to look on me in that sort of way — such a thing 
 never entered my head, indeed it didn't Miss — Miss 
 Margot. I know myself better than that. No, it wasn't 
 thai I meant.' 
 
 ' I'm afraid I"m very dull,' said Margot, beginning 
 to wish that she could recall that unfortunate speech ; 
 ' but what did you mean, then ? Because I don't 
 see ' 
 
 ' Isn't there another way for us all to live together, 
 and me be a kind of brother to your sisters, and — and to 
 you ? ' he said. ' Your mother ' 
 
 Margot stood quite still : her face was deadly white,
 
 172 THE PARIAH 
 
 her eyes blazed with anger. In a flash lier mind went 
 back to those days at Trouville, to her mother's marked 
 encouragement of the ex-indigo planter, their constant 
 companionship, the strange anxiety to prevent her from 
 betraying her dislike to the son. In her egotism, she 
 had never suspected that she herself was the least con- 
 cerned ; she had let herself be removed where she could 
 offer no opposition — and now it was too late ! Her 
 head whirled in the rush of fierce anger, impotent pro- 
 test against this humiliation which her own mother 
 had brought upon them ! 
 
 ' I thought you knew ! ' stammered Allen ; ' it was 
 the day after you left, father told me almost directly. 
 Look here, if you don't believe me, come down to the 
 Custom-House — father's there waiting, /te'll tell you it's 
 all true ! ' 
 
 ' Don't speak to me ! ' said Margot, closing her eyes 
 for a moment, 'and — and go on to the quay alone, 
 please ; you can say, if — if you are asked, that I am not 
 well enough to come — don't talk, go — go ! ' 
 
 She walked back to the little lodging-house parlour 
 and stood in the bow-window looking out over the green, 
 mechanically watching a groom who was exercising a 
 horse there — she felt as if she were going mad. 
 
 How long she stood there, with a horrible feeling 
 that her face was a mask with nothing but an aching 
 emptiness behind, she did not know, but presently the 
 children came down to breakfast. ' Hasn't mother 
 come ? w'% hasn't mother come ? did you go do^vn to 
 see if she was on the steamer — whij didn't you go down? '
 
 SCYLLA AXD CHARYBDIS 173 
 
 were amongst the questions she had to endure from 
 Eeo-o-ie and Lettice, until the prawns served as a merci- 
 ful distraction, 
 
 ' How pale you look, darling ! ' said Ida the moment 
 she appeared, ' and — and hasn't mother come ? is any- 
 thing wrong ! ' 
 
 ' Yes — no,' said Margot impatiently. ' Mother is 
 quite well, I believe ; she will be here directly no doubt.' 
 She shivered as she spoke at the thought of the 
 arrival. 
 
 Miss Henderson cast an amused glance at Ida ; 
 evidently Margot's heroics were beginning to evaporate. 
 Margot saw the glance — how little they all guessed 
 what was before them ! and who was to prepare them ? 
 She could not, and she sat there in mute misery with a 
 nervous glance at the road whenever the sound of fly- 
 wheels approached. 
 
 And, after many false alarms, the dreaded moment 
 came ; one of those four-wheeled struld-hrugs which are 
 onlv to be seen at watering-places drove up, piled with 
 luo-o-ao-e, and in it, looking^ rather the worse for the 
 
 COO' ^ *— ' 
 
 passage, but smiling perseveringly, sat Mrs. Chevening. 
 The children ran out to welcome her, and Ida and 
 Miss Henderson were on the steps. Margot alone re- 
 mained within, and listened with a shuddering disgust 
 to the kisses and greetings in the passage outside. How 
 could her mother behave as if nothing was changed, as 
 if she had not deliberately bartered away their old 
 peaceful independent 1 fe ? But Allen might have been 
 mistaken. The first moment that her mother's eyes
 
 174 THE PARIAH 
 
 met hers, slie knew it was all too true — there was a look 
 at once deprecatory and defiant that told her all. 
 
 ' Well, ^Margot dearest, how are you ? ' said Mrs. 
 Chevening, in a higher key than ordinary. ' Not repented 
 deserting Trouville in that absurd manner, I hope ? ' 
 
 Margot shrank a little from her embraces : ' Not till 
 to-da}',' she said in a low voice. 
 
 ' Why, you really don't look yourself ! ' cried Mrs. 
 Chevening. ' When dear Allen told me you were not well 
 enough to be on the qnay, I thought that a lazy fit per- 
 haps — But just come up to my room presently, darling, 
 and we two will have a cosy little chat all to ourselves ! ' 
 
 A little later, when Mrs. Chevening had changed 
 her travelling costume and regained her ordinary ap- 
 pearance, Margot entered the room. 
 
 ' You have something to tell me, mother ? ' she 
 said. 
 
 Mrs. Chevening looked at the proud pale face, with 
 the beautiful mouth arched in a slight curve of irre- 
 pressible contempt, and felt slightly uncomfortable. 
 ' Just see if you can find my hand-glass first, dearest 
 one,' she said, ' those Custom-House wretches do make 
 such havoc in one's dressing-bag. It really is as Joshua 
 said to them ' 
 
 ' Is " Joshua " i\Ir. Chadwick ? ' asked ^largot ; ' it 
 is true, I suppose — you are going to — to marry him ? ' 
 
 ' What a tragic voice ! ' exclaimed Mrs. Chevening ; 
 ' one would think he was an ogre. There are not many 
 men, let me tell you, in his position who would have 
 acted as generously as he has done ; he looks upon you
 
 SCYLLA AND CHARYBDIS 175 
 
 all as his own cliildren already ; he is ready to provide 
 you with all those advantages which only wealth can 
 afford, which otherwise I should have to see you deprived 
 of for ever.' 
 
 ' Do you think I should have missed them ? ' cried 
 
 Margot. 
 
 ' That bears out what I always say of you, dearest — 
 you are just a trifle too self-absorbed. I was thinking 
 less of you than of the others. You forget that in — in 
 our happier days, you liad all these advantages ; no 
 expense was spared to give you all the education and 
 accomplishments a girl ought to have on entering the 
 world. Even after my terrible loss, I contrived (you 
 will never know with what efforts) to keep you at 
 Brio-hton for the full course. It doesn't — it really does 
 ^xqI — become you now to stand in the way of the 
 younger ones, especially when, as you might know if 
 you cared to, I can hardly tell which way to turn for 
 enough money to keep them decently fed and dressed.' 
 ' Mother,' cried Margot, ' we had always enough, 
 and I would have worked, I would have done anything 
 — anything to prevent this ! ' 
 
 ' I really don't know in what way you could have 
 earned more than enough to keep yourself; and perhaps 
 you are not aware that my bills are nothing like all 
 paid.' 
 
 ' Then why are we here ? why did we go to an ex- 
 pensive place like Trouville ? ' 
 
 ' I went chiefly for your sake, my dear ; but I see 
 no reason to repent it, nor, I should think, will those
 
 176 THE PARIAH 
 
 wretched tradesmen who have been worrying my life out 
 so long.' 
 
 ' You might,' said Margot in a low voice — ' you might 
 have remembered papa — it is such a few years since 
 he ' 
 
 ' You think T have forgotten ? How little you 
 know your mother, Margot, if you can say such cruel 
 things ! But his constant anxiety was that he was able 
 to save so little for you children, and if he were per- 
 mitted to advise me now, he would understand and 
 approve — yes, though my eldest daughter presumes to 
 judge and condemn ! ' and jMrs. Chevening applied a 
 corner of her handkerchief delicately to the corner of 
 each eye. 
 
 ' Tell me just this,' said Margot, ' do you — oh, it's 
 liorrible to say — do you love this Mr. Chadwick ? — shall 
 you be proud of him ? Oh, you cannot, you cannot ! ' 
 
 ' I deny your right to put such questions to me,' 
 said Mrs. Chevening ; ' I shall do my duty. At our age 
 it would be absurd to pretend to sentiment. If you 
 choose to say so, I am marrying for convenience — but 
 at least it is the convenience of those who are dear to 
 me, and when they turn against me, and speak like 
 strangers, and as if they had nothing but contempt for 
 their poor mother any more — ah, my dear, I trust no 
 daugliter o^ yours will ever cut you to the heart as you 
 are cutting me now ! lluw hard — how icichedlij hard 
 you are to me, ]\[argot ! ' 
 
 ' I don't mean to be — I won't be," she cried, throwing 
 ln'r 1 eautiful strong arms round her mother, ' onlv give
 
 SCYLLA AND CHARYBDIS 177 
 
 this up — let us be as we were together in our dear old 
 shabby house, with no one to come between us, mother 
 darling, it isn't too late — it will be better in the end. 
 Send Mr. Chadwick away again ! ' 
 
 Mrs. Chevening disengaged herself angrily. ' You 
 are talking like an idiot ! ' she said ; ' I shall certainly 
 keep a promise I consider sacred, so let me hear no more 
 of this.' 
 
 ' Then,' said Margot wildly, ' let me go away ! ' I 
 cannot live in the same house with them — I could not 
 breathe there — let me go ! ' 
 
 ' By all means go,' returned her mother, ' if you wish 
 to make us out monsters in the eyes of the world. Only, 
 as I said before, I am at a loss to see what you propose 
 to do. I don't think vour aunt Gwendolen will receive 
 you very warmly ; she will probably call you a foolish 
 girl for running away from a comfortable home and one 
 who only desires to be an indulgent father to you. And 
 I doubt whether you would be more independent as' a 
 governess, even if you were fit to undertake a situa- 
 tion. One thing you will understand, that if 3'ou 
 choose to do anything so headstrong, you will cut your- 
 self off from all of us : and I should have thouoht vou 
 had some affection for your sisters and Reggie at least, 
 if you have none for me ! I certainly could not expect 
 or wish Mr. Chadwick to receive vou at our new home, 
 after you had shown everybody that you thought your- 
 self too good to associate with him. If you separate 
 from us now, vou do so for ever ! " 
 
 Margot drew a long sobbing breath ; she realised 
 
 VOL. I. N
 
 T78 THE PARIAH 
 
 the cruel force of her mother's words. All the tenderer 
 side of her nature was expended upon her younger sisters 
 and brother ; she was passionately devoted to them, and 
 yet, if she were to carry out her impulsive resolve, and 
 refuse to countenance her mother's act of disloyalty to 
 the dead, there was nothing before her but a life of 
 solitude and slavery. She would be shut out from all 
 she loved, condemned to the employment most uncon- 
 genial and unfitted to her nature — teaching. She saw 
 no other resource ; she knew too well that, untrained as 
 she was, she could not hope to gain a footing on the 
 stage or the concert-platform, and she shrank from the 
 mere idea of serving in a shop. She felt herself, in the 
 full course of her indignation and passionate protest, 
 brought up short and hemmed in by impenetrable 
 realities against which she was powerless, rebel as she 
 might. 
 
 She had not broken down till then, but now, as 
 much with anger as grief, she burst into a passion of 
 tears. ' I can't leave them 1 ' she sobbed. ' ^Mother, 
 vou know it would kill me — oh, what shall I do?' 
 
 ^Nlrs. Chevening saw that the battle was almost won. 
 ' Do ? ' she said ; ' do what any sensible girl would do 
 in your place. Give up raging and sulking at a state of 
 things that you can't possibly prevent. Of course you 
 can make your stepfather and me very uncomfortable if 
 vou choose. Hut i)lease be consistent — submit cheer- 
 f.jllv, and 1 i-(^allv cannot see that vou will have any 
 hurdships to beai'. Or, if you can't do that, carry 
 out yuur protest and go! '
 
 SCYLLA AND CHARYBDIS 179 
 
 ' Would you be glad for me to go ? ' demanded 
 Margot. 
 
 ' You goose, of course not ! I want to be proud of 
 my eldest daughter, and see her in surroundings worthy 
 of her, for I needn't tell you, my dear, that you have 
 your share of beauty, though it is completely thrown 
 away in the sort of life we have had to live till now. 
 But I can't have you spoiling everything by posing as 
 a martyr, and refusing to recognise my husband at the 
 very time you are living under his roof and eating his 
 bread ; you must see yourself how impossible a state of 
 things that would be ! ' 
 
 ' It is not Mr. Chadwick so much,' said Margot, ' it 
 is his son — will lie be there? ' 
 
 ' Of course he will be there ! Do you suppose his 
 father would turn the poor boy out to gratify your con- 
 venience ? What harm can poor Allen possibly do 
 you ? — he is ready to be a devoted son to me and the 
 fondest of brothers to you all. I was quite touched by 
 his real delight when he was told — any other young 
 man in his position would have felt injured, jealous 
 perhaps. And a few sisterly hints, a little patience and 
 tact on your part, Margot, and he would soon grow 
 out of any slight mannerisms he has picked up. I 
 am sure he has an excellent disposition, and will not be 
 difficult to manage. Now pray let me see you looking 
 brave and cheerful, and not acting as a wet blanket 
 any more. Promise me to be sensible.' 
 
 ' I promise that I won't show what I can't help 
 feeling, just at first, any more than I can help. I can't 
 
 N 2
 
 I So THE PARIAH 
 
 pretend to be glad, or to be fond of ]\Ir. Cbadwick all 
 at once. You won't ask too mucb ? ' 
 
 ' I will be satisfied with that — for the present,' said 
 Mrs. Clievening ; ' now kiss me, darling, and go to your 
 room till you are a little more composed.' 
 
 So Margot found herself driven to surrender igno- 
 miniously. Alone in her room once more, as she thought 
 of the gallant, handsome soldier who had been so proud 
 of her, and had liked to have her with him wherever it 
 was possible in those last few months before he went out 
 to meet his death in Afghanistan, her tears rose afresh. 
 Her mother might forget — but she, never ! For the new 
 head of the house she had no respect, no affection, but 
 she would keep her compact with her mother as far as 
 outward show went. But there was Allen — and at the 
 thought of him she set her teeth and clenched her soft 
 hands in angry revolt. 
 
 There would be no escape from him now — never : 
 he would live in the same house, he would have 
 the right of treating her as his equal, of speaking 
 of her, and to her, as his sister. Even while he was 
 nothing to her but an accidental acquaintance, she 
 had conceived an antipathy to him which she felt her- 
 self was exaggerated — but now that antipathy had 
 turned to hatred : yes, she hated him, though till then 
 she had held him beneath the dignity of hatred ; she 
 hated liiin for what she well knew he had no more part 
 in bringing about than herself. 
 
 And — bitterest and most unpalatable of all — this 
 hatred which possessed her must be confined to her
 
 SCYLLA AND CHARYBDIS i8i 
 
 own breast ; only in secret could she dare to give herself 
 the luxury of expression. From its object it must be 
 rigorously hidden. 
 
 There may be some, perhaps, to whom Allen Chad- 
 wick will seem scarcely less to be pitied. Mere unre- 
 quited affection is too ordinary a woe to excite much 
 compassion ; it is only when humble unselfish devotion 
 on one side is met with deep-seated invincible aversion 
 on the other that the situation has something of a 
 tragic side to it.
 
 i82 THE PARIAH 
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 DELF AND CHINA 
 The little hearts that know not how to forgive ! 
 
 Maud. 
 
 Margot's passionate resentment had worn itself out for 
 the time being, and she grew tired of being miserable 
 alone. There were the others, too, who were probably 
 still in ignorance of what was impending; a sense of 
 loyalty to them made her wish to prepare them. As 
 she expected, she found them with Miss Henderson in 
 a small sitting-room at the back, which was generally 
 reserved for lessons on wet days; even before she 
 opened the door sounds of subdued wailing within 
 told her that she was too late — they knew all. It was 
 a doleful little gathering enough : Ida, with red eyes 
 and a look of tragic despair, was holding tightly to the 
 governess's hand, which she caressed from time to time 
 as they sat on the shiny little sofa, ^liss Henderson 
 had assumed an uir of martyred resignation suitable to 
 the occasion, though she was inwardly deeply perplexed 
 as to the effect these changes were to have upon her 
 future. If only she could retain her post, things might 
 not be so bad after all ; in the meantime a really in- 
 teresting woe like the present was too great a luxury
 
 DELF AND CHINA 1S3 
 
 not to be indulged in to the full, and both Ida and she 
 (although perhaps they did not know it) had derived con- 
 siderable enjoyment from it already. Their tears broke 
 out afresh on Margot's entrance; Ida and Lettice threw 
 themselves sobbing into her arms ; Reggie went to the 
 window, which commanded a not too lively prospect of 
 cistern, back-garden, and slate-roofed stables, and stood 
 there whistling in a dismal quaver. jMiss Henderson 
 wept in a discreet manner on the sofa, behind a hand- 
 kerchief with a highly ornamental border. 
 
 ' Isn't it too awful ! ' cried Ida indistinctlv : ' I call it 
 simply horrid of mother to do this. Behind all our 
 backs too ! Margot, you were there — you must have 
 known — why didn't you stop it ? you might at least 
 have prepared us ! ' 
 
 ' How could I ? ' said Margot. ' Do you think if I 
 had known — but I was kept in the dark too.' 
 
 ' It will kill me — I know it will ! ' moaned Ida ; ' just 
 as I was getting well, too ! How can mother ? What 
 miserable girls we are ! ' 
 
 ' It's as bad for me as you, every bit,' broke in 
 Reggie, with a suspicious sniff, ' only I d-don't b-blub 
 about it ! ' 
 
 ' Margot, shall we all have to be somebody else, too, 
 if mother is ? ' asked Lettice, ' or what ? Will nothing 
 ever be the same any more ? ' 
 
 ' Of course it won't ! ' said Ida disconsolately ; ' we 
 shall be nobodies, now : the first thing will be that 
 poor dear Hennie will be sent away, and we shall have 
 to get on anyhow. I dare say we shall be turned out, too.
 
 1 84 THE PARIAH 
 
 some day — he'll be sure to liate us all ! and there's a 
 step-brother, a young man — he'll never rest till he's per — 
 persecuted us out of the house ! I know what it will be. 
 Margot and I will have to hem shirts (and I haie sewing), 
 and Reggie will sell papers, and Lettice mum — mum- 
 matches, and we shall all die of cold on doorsteps ! ' 
 
 At this affecting prophecy she went into fresh floods 
 of tears, and threw herself inconsolable upon the sofa 
 again, whereupon a general chorus of lamentation arose. 
 Margot, however, did not join in it, feeling the scene, in 
 fact, a parody upon her own reception of her mother's 
 announcement; she could not see it in a humorous 
 light just then, but it made her angry and a little 
 ashamed. 
 
 ' For goodness' sake, don't let us make idiots of our- 
 selves any more ! ' she exclaimed ; ' we shall be treated 
 kindly enough, if that is all, I dare say. It is quite bad 
 enough without trying to make it worse ! ' 
 
 ' Is his name Chadwick ? ' demanded Ida. ' Wasn't 
 that the name of the people you disliked so at the 
 
 hotel ? ' 
 
 'Never mind what I told you once,' said .Margot, 
 ' and — and I never said that I disliked the father par- 
 ticularly.' 
 
 ' It was the son, then, and you really did hate him ? 
 Hennie and I were not quite sure whether you meant 
 it. What is he like ? do tell us ! ' 
 
 ' You will see for yourself quite soon enough,' said 
 Margot; ' he is a terrible person ! ' 
 
 ' A terrible person ! ' cried Lettice. ' Oh, Margot !
 
 DELF AND CHINA 185 
 
 and they are here — both of them. We saw their hats 
 over the railings. Such horrid-looking hats ! ' 
 
 Steps were heard blundering up the stairs outside ; 
 Margot's face paled slightly. 'They're coming,' she 
 whispered ; ' dry your eyes — quick, don't let them see 
 we have been crying.' 
 
 A knock, violent from timidity, and Allen appeared 
 — alone. ' It's only me,' he announced with an embar- 
 rassed appeal to Margot. ' Your mother said if I came 
 up, you'd introduce me, and — and make things com- 
 fortable all round.' 
 
 Margot was leaning lightly against the head of the 
 sofa, which she was smoothing as delicately as if it were 
 some favourite animal ; she lifted her eyebrows at his 
 remark with a careless disdain. 
 
 ' Were those mother's exact words, I wonder ? ' she 
 said ; ' but I can't introduce you unless you will come out 
 of that doorway.' (' He looks exactly as if he had come 
 to wind the clock ! ' she was thinking.) ' That is better 
 — do you mind shutting the door ? Now we can get 
 it done. This is our new brother. Mr. Allen Chad- 
 wick — Miss Henderson. This is my sister Ida, and this 
 is Lettice, and that is Reggie.' 
 
 Allen made fumbling attempts to shake hands all 
 round. ' I — you mustn't think I've any wish to intrude,' 
 he said ; ' it's rum at first, I know, but everything must 
 have a beginning, eh ? And as for Margot here, why I 
 and she are quite old friends — though I'm sure when we 
 first met I'd no more idea we should come to be such 
 near relations — had you ? '
 
 1 86 THE PARIAH 
 
 ' I ! ' said Mart^ot ; ' no, certainly not ! ' 
 
 ' No more you hadn't,' he said ; ' wliy, do you re- 
 member this morning how taken aback you were when 
 I told you ? ' 
 
 ' Do I remember ? ' repeated Margot ; ' wliy yes, I 
 have some faint recollection of it,' 
 
 ' Mine isn't faint,' he said without detecting the 
 irony in her tone, ' you wouldn't believe it at any price 
 — the same with me at first. It seemed too good to be 
 true. To think of me feeling lonely all these years for 
 want of some one my own age to be company, and all 
 the time a family growing up ready for nie, if only I'd 
 known it ! It's funny when you come to look at it,' 
 
 ' We haven't arrived at seeing the funny side of it 
 yet,' observed Margot calmly ; 'it is strange enough, 
 certainly.' 
 
 ' That's what I meant,' he explained, ' but I'm sure 
 I've no call to quarrel with present arrangements. I'm 
 as pleased as Punch, if you don't consider it a liberty of 
 me to say so.' 
 
 He was more voluble than usual, in spite of his 
 nervousness, for he could not repress the pride and 
 satisfaction it gave him to be able to claim kinship with 
 them, though he was awed at the same time by a sense 
 of their immense superiority to himself. Tlio younger 
 Chevenings were remarkably good-looking, with the 
 same air of race and distinction that gave such cha- 
 racter to their elder sister's beauty. Between them and 
 the undersized, insignificant-looking Allen a gulf of 
 difference was fixed, which he could not fail to perceive.
 
 DELF AND CHINA 187 
 
 Some natures would have felt this superiority only to 
 hate its possessors with a rankling envy, but there was 
 no trace of this in Allen's sentiments towards the 
 Chevenings. He felt an almost awe-struck admiration 
 for them already. Margot he had worshipped from the 
 first in reverent humility, all unconscious, poor fellow, 
 of the intensity of her repugnance to him. And now 
 that he had seen the others — Ida, with her delicate face 
 and clinging grace ; Reggie, whose eyes had a look in 
 them of Margot's ; and Lettice, whose dainty childish 
 loveliness was a new experience to him — he was will- 
 ing to extend his allegiance in a scarcely less degree, 
 anxious to convince them of the sincerity of his good 
 will — so far as his somewhat restricted vocabulary would 
 permit. 
 
 Unfortunately his past had left him with a manner 
 which, when it was not uncouth, was instinctively obse- 
 quious in the presence of those in what he had been 
 taught to regard as a higher station than his own. 
 
 Theoretically they were his equals now, but it cost 
 him an effort to remember and act upon the knowledge, 
 and, when he did, the only result was a familiarity which 
 hardly rendered him more engaging. 
 
 On the other side, the first impressions were very far 
 from favourable. Miss Henderson made up her mind 
 privately at the first sight of him that it would not only 
 be necessary, but desirable, to look out for another situ- 
 ation, and gave a side-glance of pity at Ida, who needed 
 it at that moment. Ida's romantic imaginings of a dark, 
 black-browed step-brother, who would be forbidding,
 
 i88 THE PARIAH 
 
 but interesting in appearance, and would liate tliera 
 all relentlessly — until he was disarmed by her own 
 sweetness — were dispersed by the reality; but she was 
 none the happier for that. On the contrary, the know- 
 ledge that the ftite in store for them was of so common- 
 place, not to say vulgar, a kind was the bitterest drop 
 in her cup. Reggie stood and stared, with his hands 
 thrust deep in his pocket ; how such a fellow as this 
 could be by any possibility about to become their 
 brother was more than he could understand. Why — he 
 looked like a sort of shop-boy, only a little better 
 dressed. 
 
 Lettice was the only one who seemed more reassured 
 than dismayed. Allen's announcement to her the day 
 before had not left any deep impression, and in the 
 general disturbance of all her ideas she had not had time 
 to connect the unknown step-brother with the person 
 whose acquaintance she had made already ; now that 
 she recognised him, her worst fears lied. 
 
 ' I didn't know the new brother was going to turn 
 out to be 1/ort after all,' she remarked ; ' you weren't in 
 fun yesterday, then ? / duu't think you're a terrible 
 person at all. Are you ? ' 
 
 * Not that I'm aware of,' said Allen ; ' first time 1 
 ever heard of it, if I am.' 
 
 ' I didn't think so,' pursued Lettice, ' because, when 
 I hit you by accident with Yarrow's ball, you turned so 
 very red and looked frightened — didn't you ? ' 
 
 ' I — I can't say,' said Allen, in some confusion ; 'I 
 couldn't see myself, you know.'
 
 DELF AND CHINA 189 
 
 ' Look in the glass now — you're just the same. If 
 you're afraid of us,' suggested Lettice, ' hadn't you 
 better be somebody else's brother, instead of ours ? 
 Because, really and truly, we've only just enough room 
 for ourselves at home. It wouldn't be at all comfortable 
 for you.' 
 
 ' Don't you trouble about me,' said Allen, ' I shall 
 be right enough. And you won't live where you are 
 much longer. There'll be lots of room.' 
 
 ' He is only teasing you, dear,' said Margot, noticing 
 the alarm returning to Lettice's eyes ; ' don't believe a 
 word he says.' 
 
 ' Why,' he protested, ' it's all true. I'm not joking ; 
 you vAU turn out of where you are ! ' 
 
 Lettice's mouth was quivering. ' Then Ida was 
 right ! ' she said ; ' you are going to turn us out — when 
 you know we've always lived at home with mother all 
 our lives ! Oh, it is unkind of you ! Why should you 
 want us to — to sell matches and starve ? We never did 
 anything to you, any of us ! ' 
 
 Allen understood at last. ' So that's what you've 
 got in your head, is it ? ' he cried, with a noisy laugh ; 
 ' that's a good one and no mistake ! Do you think 
 anybody in their senses would want to turn the like of 
 you out? Don't you be alarmed about that. I'll 
 answer for it, father'll only be too glad to have you 
 about — why, he'll think nothing too good for you ; he 
 won't make any differences, bless you, he's not that 
 sort. What I meant by saying that you wouldn't 
 live where you are long, was only that you'd scon
 
 190 THE PARIAH 
 
 be coming to live along with rae and father — that's 
 all!' 
 
 ' But, if you don't mind,' said Lettice, *I think we 
 would rather stay where we are — we're so used to our 
 own house, you see. Margot, wouldn't you rather be at 
 home ? ' 
 
 * We have not been consulted, Lettice,' said her 
 elder sister, with a bitter little smile ; ' everything has 
 been settled without us. "VVe must do as we are told ! ' 
 
 ' I shan't, then,' interrupted Reggie, ' I shall just 
 go on living where we are now. I'm sure his father 
 won't have nearly such a nice house as ours is.' 
 
 'You wait till you see it!' said Allen. 'It's a 
 splendid big house, with rooms you could put six of 
 these into — regular first-class mansion, you know, 
 glass-houses, with gi'apes and peaches gi'owing, and 
 conservatories, and a little stream running through the 
 grounds where you can fish if you like — I tell you, it's 
 something like a place, ours is ! ' 
 
 Lettice and Reggie were both impressed by this 
 picture. ' Would there be room for Yarrow there ? ' 
 inquired Lettice. 
 
 'Room for a dozen Yarrows!' said ^VUen. 'My 
 governors rich, you know; money's no consequence to 
 him. Why, since I've been with him, I've only to ask 
 him for whatever it is I want — and so it'll be with you, 
 so long as you behave yourselves, of course. You just 
 see if you aren't a precious sight better oflfwith us than 
 what you would if you went on as you are ! ' 
 
 In reality, this speech, though not remarkable for
 
 DELF AND CHINA 191 
 
 tact, was dictated by the desire to reconcile them all, 
 and Margot particularly, to the future, and was perfectly 
 free from any mere impulse of ostentation. But on 
 Miss Chevening's fastidious and prejudiced ear it 
 jarred as the coarse expression of ignorant purse-pride. 
 That this contemptible boor should dare to patronise 
 them, to think that any riches, any material comfort 
 could be a recompense for the humiliation of being 
 related to him ! She said nothing— of what use was it 
 to speak now ? — but her foot beat the floor in her 
 nervous irritation, and her beautiful haughty face grew 
 more contemptuous, if possible, than before. 
 
 ' It would be nice to have a big garden,' said Lettice, 
 ' and I like peaches too. But I don't think I should 
 like living in somebody else's house always — it would be 
 like being on a visit, and never going away. Shall you 
 be there all the time ? ' 
 
 This question was put with an intonation that left 
 little room for a flattering construction. ' I shan't be 
 in your way,' said Allen, feeling almost bound to 
 apologise for being there at all. ' And long before that 
 you'll have got used to the governor and me — see if you 
 haven't ! ' 
 
 ' It takes me a long time to get used to people, 
 always,' said Lettice gravely ; ' years, sometimes.' 
 
 'Well,' he conceded, 'take your own time — don't 
 hurry yourself.' 
 
 Lettice's dignity was easily offended. ' As if I was 
 going to ! ' she exclaimed. ' You can't hurry with things 
 like that ; and I'm not sure that I ever shall get quite
 
 192 THE PARIAH 
 
 used to yon. You see, you'll only be a Pretence 
 Brother, and I've got Reggie, who's a real one, 
 already ! ' 
 
 ' Well,' said Allen, ' put up with me as well as you 
 can, then, and I shan't complain.' 
 
 ' If that will do,' said Lettice, ' I've begun to put up 
 with you already, and of course you must put up with 
 us too.' 
 
 He looked at her and the others with a rough 
 admiration. ' That won't be much of a job,' he said, 
 with the uncouth jocularity which was his only social 
 equipment. ' I can do that on my head,' 
 
 A silence followed this short dialogue. ]\rargot 
 employed herself in studying a hideous glass disc con- 
 taining an impossible view of Arundel Castle as if she 
 hud discovered in it a rare artistic merit. Ida and 
 the governess, ignoring Allen, carried on a conversation 
 in low tones ; Reggie returned to his window, and Lettice 
 to the drawing which had been interrupted. Allen 
 was left stranded in the centre of the carpet, equally 
 unable to take his departure and start the conversation 
 afresh ; he had aa idea that it would somehow 
 betray ignorance of polite society to address any remark 
 to a governess, and, besides, lie did not know what to 
 say to her. He would have liked to talk to ]\Iargot 
 about Trouville, Imt her manner was not encouraging 
 just then, not even so encouraging as it used to be ; he 
 wondered why she had grown less cordial, lie was just 
 screwing up his courage to make an observation when 
 there came the sweeping sound of a dress outside, and
 
 DELF AND CHINA 193 
 
 Mrs. Chevening, smiling and yet with a visible anxiety 
 in her eyes, appeared. 
 
 ' So you have found your way up, dear Allen ? ' she 
 said to him. ' And you all look quite at home together 
 already. Children, I am bringing — Mr. Chadwick in 
 to have a peep at you. Joshua, they are here — you can 
 come up.' 
 
 Then a heavier footstep was heard ascending, and 
 Chadwick entered. 
 
 ' Darlings,' said their mother, ' here is somebody who 
 is very anxious to be kind and good to you all, and I 
 know you all mean to be good children, and make him 
 proud of 3'ou.' 
 
 They came forward, one by one, to be presented, 
 Chadwick seeming sensible — as well he might — of a 
 certain awkwardness in the situation. 
 
 ' So these are the chicks ? ' he said ; ' come, we 
 shan't be dull at Agra House, whatever else we are ! 
 Well, my dears, I hope we're going to be good friends. 
 You've heard who I am by this time. Your mamma 
 is kind enough to say she's going to be my wife, and so 
 you're all coming to live comfortably with me, eh ? 
 Upon my word, Selina, they're a credit to you — they 
 are indeed. I don't know when I've seen a finer looking 
 lot — pick 'em anywhere you like ! Allen, old fellow, 
 what do you think of your new brother and sisters, eh ? 
 will they do ? ' 
 
 ' Yes — thank'ee, father,' returned Allen, at a loss, 
 as usual, for any more adequate words to express his 
 feelings. 
 
 VOL, I. O
 
 194 THE PARIAH 
 
 ' Dear boy,' ?aid ^Mrs. Chevening, ' you must come 
 as often as you like while we are here — tliey will be so 
 delighted to have you with thciii, and .Margot is quite 
 an old friend of yours, you know.' 
 
 ' Ah, young lady, there you are, then ? ' said Chad- 
 wick ; ' you kept so quiet, I didn't notice you. Come, 
 haven't you a word for an old acquaintance ? You're 
 not looking as well as you did at Trouville. I never 
 made out exactly why you ran away and left us all 
 there. A pretty fright I had when I found you and 
 your mother both gone, ami left not so much as a card 
 to say good-bye. Anxious about your sister, were you ? 
 that's right enough — not that there's much of the 
 invalid about her now. Well, you didu"t expect to see 
 . us turning up like this, I dare say ? ' 
 
 Margot forced herself to put her fingers in his hand 
 and submit to his boisterous rallying. She wondered 
 whether her mother winced under it, as she did ; but no 
 — Mrs. Chevening was smiling complacently, having 
 apparently made up her mind to see no shortcomings in 
 her future husband. 
 
 Chadwick, more to keep himself in countenance than 
 with any more definite object, had been wandering round 
 the table, where he came upon a sheet of paper covered 
 with penril drawings of a primitive order of art. 
 
 ' What have we got here ? ' he said ; ' who's the 
 artist 'y ' 
 
 ' Lettice, I suspect,' said her mother. 
 ' Is it you, missie ? Come here and tell us what 
 it's all about.'
 
 DELF AND CHINA 195 
 
 ' I — I don't like to, quite,' said Lettice shyly, who 
 had a habit of solacing herself in calamity by inventing 
 pictures appropi'iate to the particular situation. 
 
 ' Don't be silly, darling,' said Mrs. Chevening ; ' do 
 what you are asked to do — at once ! ' 
 
 '• It's only a story,' explained Lettice at last ; ' those 
 are the pictures for it — only you're holding them upside 
 down.' 
 
 ' Oh, this way up, with care, eh ? Well, who's this 
 in a straw hat jumping with an umbrella in her hand — 
 Mrs. Jim Crow ? ' 
 
 ' It isn't a straw hat,' said Lettice, forgetting every- 
 thing else in the reflection on her powers of portrayal, 
 ' it's a halo — she's a kind of saint, you know, like those 
 in the Old Masters, and it isn't an umbrella in her hand 
 exactly, but something of the same kind. She's pro- 
 tecting a poor little girl (that's the little girl in the 
 corner) because her mamma married again, and so she 
 was turned out of the house.' 
 
 ' Lettice, you mustn't tease Mr. Chadwick ! ' in- 
 terrupted her mother hastily ; ' children have such absurd 
 fancies, Joshua, but they don't mean anything by them.' 
 
 ' Let's have this out,' said Chadwick, roughly but 
 not unkindly ; ' so you've been thinking that little girls 
 whose mammas marry again always get turned out as a 
 regular thing, eh ? You won't want that saint yet 
 awhile — tell her to wait till you're a naughty little girl 
 and deserve turning out. Then she can bring on her 
 umbrella ! ' 
 
 ' I'm sure to be naughty some day,' said Lettice, 
 
 o 2
 
 1)6 THE PARIAH 
 
 whom experience had made fatalistic in this respect ; ' a 
 liilh naughty, you know.' 
 
 ' Well, you'll have to be very naughty indeed before 
 you're turned out, and then I shall think twice about it. 
 I've been turned out myself once, and I know what it's 
 like ! ' 
 
 He patted her head as he spoke, and Lettice, though 
 she winced a little under his heavy hand, felt that she 
 need not think seriously about dying on a doorstep 
 just yet. 
 
 ' Well,' said Chadwick, who could not be accused of 
 excess of sentiment, ' they'll be doing that beefsteak to 
 a cinder, Allen, my boy, if we are not back at the hotel 
 soon ! Good-bye, my darl — h'm — my dears ! See you 
 again soon ! ' 
 
 When the girls were alone again, there was a 
 cautious silence, broken by Margot : 
 
 ' Did I exasfgerate much ? ' she demanded : ' isnt our 
 future brother a fascinating person ? how proud we 
 shall be to be seen with him ! ' 
 
 ' Margot,' asked Lettice, ' would you call him a 
 gentleman ? ' 
 
 ' If I called him a Greek god, dear,' said Margot, 
 ' that wouldn't make him one. Why ? ' 
 
 ' I was only thinking,' said Lettice, whose thoughts 
 were apt to take an involved form. ' There are some 
 gentlemen who are gentlemen who aren't gentlemen — 
 and there are other gentlemen who aren't gentlemen 
 who arc gentlemen — which should you say he was, 
 Margot?'
 
 DELF AND CHINA 197 
 
 ' I'm not clever enough to tell you, darling. And now 
 you and Reggie must go and get ready for dinner — off 
 with you, quick ! ' 
 
 When they were gone, Ida said, with a tragic little 
 groan, ' It really is too awful, Margot ! Hennie, don"t 
 you pity us all ? ' 
 
 ' I do indeed, dearest — only you know I can't very 
 well say so ! ' 
 
 ' No, you poor darling ! Oh, if only they will leave us 
 you — you v:ill try not to be sent away, Hennie, won't 
 you — you won't desert us ? ' 
 
 3Iiss Henderson had been reconsidering her idea of 
 seeking: another eno-aofement. These Chadwicks were 
 clearly rich — she might even gain an increase in salary 
 by remaining ; she really was attached to Ida in her 
 way, and her accomplishments were not so varied as to 
 make it easy for her, in these days of competition, to 
 find immediate employment without difficulty. She 
 had decided, therefore, to use her best efforts to remain. 
 Even if Mrs. Chevening, as was not unlikely, should be 
 not unwilling to get rid of her, there were those arrears 
 of salary which she might find it inconvenient to pay 
 off all at once ; and the governess had a shrewd sus- 
 picion that her employer would not disclose to her 
 future husband more of her embarrassments than was 
 absolutely necessary. 
 
 So she replied with much fervour that she would 
 stand by her beloved Ida till cruel necessity forced her 
 away ; she hoped, she prayed, that when all her past 
 services were remembered, no one would have the heart
 
 198 THE PARI All 
 
 to send her adrift on the world — not even such people 
 as the Chadwicks seemed to be. 
 
 'Do you think niotlier really will marry that man?' 
 Ida asked ^Margot ; ' she mA/Af change her mind — even 
 at the last moment. Can't we do anything to show 
 her how we hate it ? He might give it up if he 
 knew ! ' 
 
 'Do you think I haven't done all I could?' cried 
 Margot ; ' she says she is doing it for our sakes. For 
 our sakes ! ' she repeated, with a sense of the irony of 
 the words. ' But I am quite sure of this : she means 
 to do it, and nothing in the world we can do or say 
 will prevent her. We are quite helpless, you see. If 
 we show ihem what we feel about it, we shall only look 
 ridiculous. Why,' she continued with deep indignation, 
 'mother even said just now that if I chose to oppose 
 her openly, she would send me away — away from you 
 all . . . She said she would have no other course.' 
 
 ' Oh, ]\Iargot ! ' exclaimed Ida. 
 
 ' You see what the danger is — we must put a good 
 face on it. We needn't be hypocrites, of course, but if 
 we're all to keep together, we must be prudent. We 
 need onlv be civil to — to him, an^l if mother forces his 
 horrid son upon us, well, we must bear it as well as we 
 can. Fortunately,' added Margot, ' I tliink I taught 
 him at Trouville not to expect too much.' 
 
 ' How hateful he was, with his boasts about his 
 fathers monev and house and all the rest of it ! ' ex- 
 claimed Ida. 
 
 ' That is the sort, of conversation we shall have to
 
 DELF AND CHINA 199 
 
 get used to,' said Margot ; ' we shall be constantly re- 
 minded how much better off we are, and how thankful 
 we ought to be. As if our dear old shabby house at 
 Chiswick, where we knew only people we cared about, 
 and did just as we pleased, was not all the home we 
 ever wanted ! ' 
 
 'And yet we always used to be grumbling at it, 
 didn't we ? ' said Ida, rendered ungrammatical by re- 
 morse ; ' I know I was. Like the silly fir-tree in Hans 
 Andersen, that never knew when it was well off. But 
 must we really try to like that awful boy, Margot ? ' 
 
 'ii'A-e him — no!' said Miss Chevening, 'who can 
 like a thing like that? I detest him, and I always 
 shall. But what is the use of showing it ? you have to 
 be very rude before you make any impression on that 
 sort of person — I gave up the attempt long ago. We 
 will take no more notice of him than we can possibly 
 help, but I am afraid we shall have to take some.' 
 
 ' After all,' said Miss Henderson, ' there are plenty 
 of ways of keeping people at a distance without giving 
 them any cause to complain.' 
 
 ' That's how we will treat him ! ' cried Ida gleefully ; 
 ' you shall teach me, Hennie.' 
 
 And while these tactics were being discussed, the 
 unconscious enemy was walking over the green in dazed 
 delight at his own good fortune in being admitted into 
 such a family, and thinking of the pleasure he would 
 feel in introducing Margot to the glories of Agra House, 
 
 After all, it is not amiss to be dull of perception 
 sometimes.
 
 200 THE PARIAH 
 
 CHAPTER ITT 
 
 TO DEAF EARS 
 
 Not mucli need be said of the time wliich was spent 
 by the Chevenings and the two Chadwicks at Little- 
 liampton. For Margot, they were days of acute humilia- 
 tion ; she felt as if they were all being led captives at 
 the chariot wheels of some Barbarian Conqueror. She 
 could no longer, as at Trouville, look forward to ap- 
 proaching release ; she was no longer free even to 
 give full utterance to her thoughts; at things which 
 had once moved her scorn she had now to blush as 
 one directly concerned, and all her pride rebelled 
 against the necessity which laid such a yoke as this 
 upon her. 
 
 It was exaggerated feeling on her part, a prejudice 
 she had wilfully I'diiiented in her own mind; even 
 Margot would have admitted that there was nothing 
 in itself degrading or derogatory in an alliance with a 
 wealthy ex-indigo-plauter. It is true that Chadwick's 
 early training, and the exceptionally unfriended life — 
 thanks to his own clioice and conduct — he had led in 
 Bengal, had not tended to invest him with even the 
 average amount of social polish. But, though coarse
 
 TO DEAF EARS 201 
 
 in grain and with a nature warped by a series of mis- 
 fortunes, he was not, after all, aggressively vulgar in 
 appearance ; he was passable enough, and, so far, had 
 shown every sign of being kindly disposed to those 
 who were about to be dependent upon him. Still, 
 Margot could not pardon her mother in her heart for 
 descending to such a union as this. She would have 
 found it difficult to reconcile herself to any second 
 marriage her mother might make ; but, in this case, 
 her disapproval was aggravated by the intense, the 
 unreasonably intense, dislike she had conceived for the 
 innocent Allen. She was compelled, as far as possible, 
 to abstain from expressing it openly, but in secret made 
 no attempt to overcome it. On the contrary, she delibe- 
 rately indulged it, storing up evei'y jarring speech, 
 every vulgar trick of voice and manner, as food to keep 
 her resentment alive. She did not avoid his society at 
 most times, and even humoured his halting efforts to 
 entertain her, as if with a perverse determination to 
 spare herself nothing. 
 
 Allen was again in the seventh heaven ; she treated 
 him once more as in those happy days at Trouville, 
 listened while he talked to her, and made replies in 
 which he at least failed to detect any covert irony. 
 Then her sisters were with her now, and with them she 
 would be sweet and natural, and gay sometimes, when 
 she forgot, and he imagined, mistakenly enough, that 
 he had some share in this intimacy, and was gladder at 
 heart. Ah ! if she would be really a sister to him, he 
 told himself that he would ask no more, for was not
 
 202 THE PARIAH 
 
 that more than he had any claim to expect ? — though 
 even then he knew very well that a feeling was grow- 
 ing up within him, which he was afraid to define to 
 himself, and which he already hud a foreboding would 
 not end in happiness. Yet he did not strangle this 
 hopeless passion of his when he might have done, but 
 glozed it over with another name, as many a wiser and 
 better educated person has done before him. 
 
 He did all in his power to propitiate the younger 
 members of the family, but, except in the case of Reggie, 
 his efforts were not as yet very successful, and Reggie's 
 adherence was due to a discovery that this queer new- 
 brother had plenty of pocket-money, and could be 
 induced to spend it on sweetstuff for his benefit by a 
 few judicious hints. He had it all to himself, too, for 
 Lettice declined to accept any, even from her brother. 
 Her rejection of all Allen's advances gave him a sore 
 heart now and then, for he felt strongly drawn to 
 Lettice, with her quaint dignity and frank, feai'less 
 ways ; he would willingly have been friends with her, 
 if she had consented. But Lettice's affections were not 
 to be bought, and the example set her by her elders 
 served to counteract any friendliness she might other- 
 wise have extended to him. 
 
 For Ida Allen cared less ; she took less pains to 
 control her tongue ; he did arrive sometimes at suspect- 
 ing her of deliberately intending to be disagreeable. 
 She was affected, too, and querulous, and, pretty as she 
 was, he felt less desire to conciliate her than any of the
 
 TO DEAF EARS 203 
 
 others ; in fact, something very like the foundation of a 
 grudge against her was L^id in him during those last 
 few days at Littlehampton. 
 
 Tlie time was spent mostly in expeditions to various 
 local places of interest; to Arundel, and Chichester, and 
 Worthing, and others ; expeditions of which Chadwick, 
 as at Trouville, assumed the entire command. He had 
 not seen them since he was a boy, he declared, and he 
 insisted that they should all see them together, though 
 Margot, at least, chafed at going sightseeing in this 
 bourgeois fashion. It had seemed wearisome enough in 
 Normandy, but now she was directly involved and could 
 no longer maintain her attitude of unconcerned superi- 
 ority. 
 
 To a high-spirited, intensely proud girl as she was, 
 exclusive and fastidious by nature, and regarding the 
 commonplace with youthful intolerance, her position 
 was genuinely trying, though not so hard, it must be 
 owned, as she chose to consider it. She was miserable; 
 she had often felt before that she was deprived of oppor- 
 tunities which other girls enjoyed, which she too had 
 once confidently looked forward to ; but, if existence in 
 the unfashionable old house by the river, with few 
 friends and little gaiety, had been dull, it was never 
 ignoble — there was a dignity in it, in spite of their 
 limited means and money troubles (of which she had 
 preferred to remain in contented ignorance), which had 
 comforted her at her lowest. Now that was all over ; 
 there could be no poetry henceforth for her in this new
 
 -04 THE PARIAH 
 
 atmosphere of vu1i;:ir well-being. Condemned to be 
 constantly with those wlio were utterly out of sympathy 
 with her, she felt for ever shut out from congenial 
 society — for she could not imagine that any 'nice' 
 people would care to visit at her step-father's. Had he 
 not enlarged sometimes on the unfriendliness of his 
 country neighbours ? She did not wonder at it ; and of 
 course they would be under the ban too. 
 
 Mrs. Chevening's equanimity did not seem to be 
 disturbed by any doubts as to the wisdom of the step 
 she was taking. She had taken it rather sooner than 
 she had intended, for the shock of her supposed depar- 
 ture from Trouville had brought Chadwick's feelings to 
 a climax; still she had long seen that, if she was to 
 extricate herself from her growing difficulties, she must 
 either marry her daughter well, or marry again herself. 
 She had made careful inquiries into Chadwick's posi- 
 tion, and at one time she had allowed herself to specu- 
 late on the possibility of marrying ^largot to his only 
 son. But when Allen appeared on the scene, even Mrs. 
 Chevening saw that this scheme must be abandoned. 
 ]\largot proved impracticable, and her mother was clever 
 enough to see that she was powerless here. His 
 ftither, meanwhile, was showing uimiistakable signs 
 of desiring something more thnn friendship; he did not 
 pretend to Ix- in love, but he spoke more and more 
 often of his big empty house, and the need he felt of a 
 wife who would hel|) him to gain a footing in the 
 county. He was not alarmed by the fact of so many 
 step-children — there was enough for all. ^irs. Clieven-
 
 TO DEAF EARS 205 
 
 ing was tired of her fallen fortunes, of the constant and 
 increasing battle between expenses and income; she 
 wanted to see her brilliant Margot enjoying her right- 
 ful opportunities of marrying well ; there were her other 
 daughters to be considered, her son to be educated. 
 As the wife of a wealthy es-indigo-planter, she felt very 
 certain of ensuring all these advantages ; he was not 
 over-refined, but she could school him where it was 
 necessary, and keep him as much in the background as 
 possible ; the only social bar lay in what his father had 
 been, and that could be got over now. 
 
 And so Mrs. Chevening soon persuaded herself that 
 it was the only thing to do, and that, for her children's 
 sake, she ought to accept the offer, which was made in a 
 peremptory ' take it or leave it ' style that demanded an 
 instant decision. 
 
 Accordingly, with some graceful phrases about giving 
 her orphaned children a father, and supplying herself 
 the place of a mother to ' poor Allen," she had consented, 
 with a private reflection that, should it turn out that 
 she had been misinformed in any essential respects, she 
 could always withdraw in time. 
 
 She had dreaded having to break the news to her 
 family— above all to Margot, with whom she knew she 
 must employ all her firmness before she could compel 
 her to any sort of acquiescence. However, that was 
 over, and really, as far as she could tell, the girls 
 seemed wonderfully reconciled to it already, and by care- 
 ful management, she kept their dislike to Allen from 
 appearing too plainly. ' They really seemed quite
 
 2o6 THE PARIAH 
 
 attaclieel to dear Allen,' she would tell his father; 'he 
 was a constant companion in all their walks; she was 
 so pleased to see the shyness melting away, but of 
 course Margot had given him a good character, and they 
 felt as if they had known him ever so long ; he seemed 
 so happy to be with them, too — it was quite ideal alto- 
 gether ! ' 
 
 Chad wick saw nothing, believed, and was well 
 satisfied. He felt that he had done an uncommonly 
 good stroke of business. He was going to marry a 
 widow, who was still handsome and beyond question a 
 lady. With her and her beautiful daughters to form 
 the attraction at Agra House, he need not complain of 
 isolation any longer, the county society would soon rally 
 round him. And for Allen, too, the companionship of 
 lively pretty girls would be a capital thing ; it would 
 teach him certain things which his father was beginning 
 dhnly to see he needed to be taught. Yes, his first 
 marriage had been a mistake, he saw that now, and he 
 had had to pay for it with over twenty years" exile and 
 hardship ; his second marriage was going to be a 
 success. 
 
 Such, so far, were the various attitudes of the 
 persons interested. It should be mentioned here that 
 one humble member of the Chevening family extended 
 to Allen a friendship which had nothing in it of reserve 
 or self-interest, and that was the dog Yarrow. For 
 some inscrutable reason, the collie received hiui at once 
 into unhesitating favour, beaming on him with liquid 
 golden-tawny eyes, presenting him handsomely with his
 
 TO DEAF EARS 207 
 
 honest paw aud pushing his panting head under Allen's 
 arm at every possible opportunity. For this he was 
 lectured in private by Lettice, who considered it almost 
 in the light of a desertion to the enemy ; and even 
 Margot, to whom he nominally belonged, was not above 
 feeling a secret chagrin — although she did not deign 
 openly to notice this exhibition of bad taste on Yarrow's 
 part. 
 
 Allen did not know much about dogs, and had 
 never owned one in his life, but he was grateful to the 
 collie for his preference — it seemed to him a good omen 
 that Margot"s dog should be fond of him. 
 
 When this constant companionship with the Cheve- 
 ning girls came to an end, as it did in a very few days, 
 on their departure for London, he felt almost as be- 
 reaved as on that miserable afternoon at Trouville when 
 he learned that Margot had gone. But things were not 
 nearly so bad now ; he would see them still occasionally 
 at Cbiswick during the winter, and early in the year 
 they were all coming to live at Agra House (so christened 
 by his grandfather, in defiant commemoration of the 
 business which had enriched him) — that was something 
 to be patient for. The weeks that followed were rather 
 dull for him ; his father was absent in town for the 
 greater part of the time, and Allen lived at his new 
 home with no other companion than the grim relative 
 who had brought him up, and whom Chadwick had esta- 
 blished there as temporally caretaker. Allen naturally 
 had no esr[3erience of shooting or hunting ; the man 
 who looked after the stables gave him a few ridino'
 
 2o8 TIJE PARIAH 
 
 lessons now and then, but Allen showed no particular 
 aptitude for horsemanship, and the groom was rather 
 ashamed of going out with him. ' He do sit loose, 
 that young chap — as loose as anyone I ever see on 
 top of a horse,' he would remark ia the village ; ' now 
 the guvnor, any one "ud tell At'.s- been in the saddle 
 a bit, not that I call ]niti a rider — but that young 
 Allen, blest if 1 think he knows a horse "as a mouth 
 at all ! ' 
 
 He was not more successful at shooting ; he knew 
 none of the residents and the Agra House grounds had 
 no cover to speak of, so the sport was confined to miss- 
 ing an occasional rabbit. And his aunt, though she 
 treated him with an increase of respect, as became his 
 altered fortunes, was not cheerful society, especially 
 when she approached the subject of her brother-in-law's 
 second marriage. 
 
 ' What he wants to marry for at his age, 1 don't 
 know ! ' she would often remark, as they sat in the big 
 dining-room, with the 'handsome' furniture, dull-toned 
 paper, and immense gaselier, which the late Mr. Chad- 
 wick had insisted upon. ' I'd have looked after every- 
 thing for him, if that was all. lint no — he's not con- 
 tent with that, he must be marrying the first woman 
 who chooses to set her cap at him — a widow, they tell 
 me. Any family, has she got ? ' she inquired once. 
 
 'Four,' Allen answered, with a secret thrill; 'one 
 grown-u]) — a young lady, you know.' 
 
 ' Ah I u worldly widow with a family,' his aunt com- 
 mented. ' \Vell, 1 don't know what your poor mother
 
 TO DEAF EARS 209 
 
 would have said to it, I'm sure, if she could see such 
 doings. But there, it's no use my saying anything — 
 though I'm sorry for yon, that I am ! ' 
 
 ' You needn't be, aunt,' was Allen's ordinary reply 
 to this ; ' I'm glad.' 
 
 ' Glad, are you ? Then, Allen Chad wick, you're a 
 bigger fool than I took you for ; but there, you'll find 
 your mistake out some day ! ' 
 
 And Miss Wrigley would go on with her knitting 
 with a highly expressive snort. In her narrow way she 
 had done her duty by her nephew, and though he had 
 not been as steady as she wished him to be, and was not 
 as bright and smart as some of her neighbours' lads, she 
 had a certain grim affection for him, which showed it- 
 self in a touch of sharpness sometimes at his apparent 
 inability to take his own part and look after his interests. 
 
 ' He's like his mother in that,' she would think ; 
 ' she'd have let anyone cut the head off her shoulders if 
 they asked her ! ' 
 
 While Allen was longing fur the weeks to pass, and 
 the day to come which would make him a member of 
 Margot's family, she was grudging every hour that 
 brought her nearer to the time. More than any of the 
 others, she clung to the picturesque old-fashioned house 
 by the river where they had spent the last few years. 
 It was dingy and dark from the creepers that overgrew 
 the front, and the scraggy truncated elms that almost 
 brushed the great bow-window with their branches. 
 The river, now leaden and mist-shrouded, glided by 
 on the other side of the narrow road. At night she 
 
 VOL, I. P
 
 2IO THE PARIAH 
 
 beard the water lap and wash against the bank under 
 her window, and wondered how she could ever have 
 thought the sound a dismal one. Melancholy it might 
 be, but, now that she had little cause to be joyous, the 
 river seemed a soothing and unobtrusive sharer in her 
 sorrow — she liked to fancy that it was a little sorry to 
 lose them all. 
 
 And the house, so cool and fresh in summer, so 
 snug and comfortable in winter, with such refinement 
 and harmony in its faded tones and old furniture ; the 
 house, with its memories of happy dreaming hours spent 
 on summer afternoons in the balcony over the porch, 
 of merr}' family romps, when her dignity as growing 
 school-girl or ' finished '• young lady was thrown to the 
 winds ; the very walls, associated with so many simple 
 little festivals — how dear they had all become ! She 
 had never known till then how much it would cost her to 
 leave all this ; and they were to leave it for what ? For 
 a country house, built the day before yesterday, by a 
 retired tradesman — for the elder Chadwick was nothing 
 more ; a poor exchange enough, even could they have 
 been permitted to occupy it alone ; but when she thought 
 whose house it would be, and the position they would 
 fill in it, her heart swelled with indignation against 
 her mother. 
 
 When Lady Yaverland heard of the step her younger 
 sister was contemplating, she did what she had not 
 found time to do for some years — she drove down to 
 Chiswick in state from Portman Square; and it being 
 impossible to drive up to the house, from the fact that
 
 TO DEAF EARS 211 
 
 tlie road along the bank was a mere footpath at that par- 
 ticular spot, her carriage was to be seen waiting in a back 
 road, the nearest point of approach, with the coachman 
 wearing an expression which seemed to disown all per- 
 sonal responsibility for being found in such a neighbour- 
 hood, while a fur-caped footman stood majestically by 
 the railings in front of the shabby old ivy-grown house. 
 Lady Yaverland had brought her youngest daughter, 
 Valeria, with her, and, at a suggestion from her mother, 
 Margot took her cousin off to her own room. The two 
 girls had never been intimate ; the Honourable Miss 
 Valeria Brading, who, if patrician, was undeniably 
 plain in appearance, was inclined to resent her cousins 
 beauty, and patronised her when they met in a highly 
 provoking manner. ' Do tell me all about it, ' she 
 began, as she sank down in Margot's easy-chair. ' I 
 am so interested. When is Aunt Selina going to 
 marry ? Aren't you awfully delighted ? ' 
 
 ' Mother is going to marry early next year, Valeria,' 
 said Margot. ' And I'm not awfully delighted. I 
 think it's dreadful ! ' 
 
 ' You ver\\ curious person ! ' said Miss Brading 
 languidly ; ' why, I should have thought it was the best 
 thing that could happen for all of you. Won't you be 
 fearfully well off now ? I thought he was so rich and 
 all that ? ' 
 
 ' What are his riches to us ? ' said Margot. ' Do 
 you think one can't be happy without that ? ' 
 
 ' I should certainly have thought,' said Miss Valeria, 
 with a glance round the room, in the appointments of 
 
 p 2
 
 212 THE PARIAH 
 
 wliicli taste was more conspicuous than luxury, ' that you 
 would like to see more of the world than you can pos- 
 sibly do in a place like this. I dare say you will live in 
 town for the season now, and go out, and all that sort 
 of thing. You'll enjoy it, because it will all be fresh 
 to you. It isn't as if you had grown up in it us I 
 have ! ' 
 
 ' I don't know where we shall live — in the country, 
 most likely, all the year,' said ^Margot — ' but I know I 
 shall not enjoy anything, wherever we are. I should 
 hate myself if I thought I could ! ' 
 
 ' That's so silly, dear,' remarked her cousin, in a 
 superior tone, which was undeniably infuriating; 'u-e 
 think it quite a nice arrangement in every way.' 
 
 ' Very likely,' said Miss Chevening warmly ; ' it must 
 be pleasanter to have rich relations than poor ones, 
 however little you see of them. Never mind, Valeria, 
 we will agree that we ought to consider ourselves very 
 fortunate — only we are so stupid that we don't. And 
 now let's talk of something else.' 
 
 ' Indeed I've no wish to pursue the subject ; only I 
 must say that, if you will bury yourselves away in a 
 place like this, it is rather too much to complain of 
 people not coming to see you — it is really.' 
 
 ' Is it, Valeria ?' said Margot; ' if I did complain, 
 I won't do it again. Come into the schoolroom and 
 see Ida and Lettice, they'll be so glad.' 
 
 Lady Yaverland took her leave in a most cordial 
 manner. ' Good-bye, Selina, dearest,' she said, as she 
 rose ; ' we shall hope to see more of you in the future.
 
 TO DEAF EARS 213 
 
 I really am more enchanted than I can say. Kow do 
 bring Mr. Chadwick to see me some day — let me see, 
 shall it be next Wednesday ? — no, I've got something 
 on Wednesday, I linow. Thursday, then ? or stop, 
 there are people coming to lunch on Thursday — we 
 shan't get a moment together. Valeria, are we free on 
 Fi'iday, darling ? — oh, that tiresome afternoon concert at 
 the Brutons' ! Well, I must write and fix a day, and, in 
 any case, you will be sure to let me know when and 
 where the ceremony is to take place — I shall make a 
 point of being there. Roberts, tell Jennings the car- 
 riage, please.' 
 
 So Lady Yaverland and her daughter walked back 
 to their smart carriage, which was presently rolling 
 away along the bankside, past the baring trees and 
 decaying houses. Lady Yaverland was really pleased. 
 She had married a wealthy manufacturer, who, for some 
 services he had rendered his party, had been raised to 
 the peerage as Baron Yaverland some years ago. After 
 her husband had received this distinction, she had taken 
 a position in society which did not allow her to see 
 much of her sister, especially when Mrs. Chevening 
 had become a widow, and was forced by her own im- 
 prudent speculations to withdraw beyond the radius 
 recognised by Society and its coachmen. 
 
 She had felt some twinges of conscience, neverthe- 
 less, and was always on the point of seeing whether 
 something could not be done for ' poor dear Selina,' 
 consoling herself for doing nothing by the reflection 
 that living must be very cheap at Chiswick, and if
 
 214 THE PARIAH 
 
 Selina was really in any difiiculties she would write 
 and ask for assistance. Now that Selina was actually 
 goinsf to make a really sensible marriage, Lady Yaver- 
 laud's heart naturally warmed to her ; she could be 
 cordial now with impunity — and hence her visit. 
 
 ' Dear Selina ! ' she said to her daughter, as they 
 drove away, ' she seems so contented and satisfied, 
 spoke so nicely of him, I was quite pleased to hear her. 
 She'll have everything she can want now, and those 
 poor girls will be provided for after all. 1 must send 
 her something really nice for a wedding present. You 
 must help me to choose. Margot very delighted about 
 it all, I suppose ? ' 
 
 ' I shouldn't sa}^ she was enthusiastic exactly,' 
 drawled Miss Valeria. ' I gathered that she rather 
 disapproved of it.' 
 
 ' Foolish girl ! ' said her mother ; ' however, she will 
 have to resign herself to the inevitable.' 
 
 Mrs. Chevening stood at the window smiling and 
 kissing her hand while her sister in her heavy furs was 
 stepping daintily along the narrow path. ' Good-bye, 
 good-bye, dearest ones, come again soon ! ' she was 
 saying, rather to govern her expression than with any 
 hope of being audible. ' ^M\at a pity it is for that 
 poor girl to be so plain ! And Gwendolen looks quite 
 twenty years older than when I saw her last. However, 
 I am very glad she came. \o\\ see now, Margot, that 
 my own sister doesn't consitler I have lost caste, what- 
 ever mv daughter chooses to think ! ' 
 
 ' When you bring Mr. Chad wick to see Aunt Gwen-
 
 TO DEAF EARS 215 
 
 dolen, mother,' said Margot, ' shall you take Alien 
 too?' 
 
 ' I see no necessity for it,' replied her mother ; ' he is 
 hardly fit to go into society at present, poor fellow ! " 
 
 ' No,' said Margot, ' but you consider him quite fit 
 for our society, don't you, mother ? ' 
 
 ' I thought,' said her mother, ' that I was not to 
 have the pain of hearing such language as this from 
 you again, Margot ! ' 
 
 ' Mother ! ' said the girl passionately, ' I can't 
 always keep silence — you must let me speak out some- 
 times, when we are alone. I do try to treat Mr. Chad- 
 wick as you would wish. I — I am even getting not to 
 mind him. But Allen — mother, you can't expect me to 
 feel that he is the sort of person I can bear to think of 
 as a constant companion — as a brother ! I know you 
 believe you are doing the best for us all — perhaps you 
 are, for the others — but at least you might understand 
 that I can't help being a little bitter now and then — 
 j ast on my own account ! ' 
 
 She stood there, tall and slender, with a look of un- 
 conquerable pride on her fair face, and yet her voice 
 had something winning and appealing in it which 
 caused her mother a momentary pang of self-reproach. 
 Mrs. Chevening thought of her future step-son and 
 placed him mentally by the side of this girl ; the effect 
 was grotesque enough to arouse a certain sympathy 
 with her daughter's protest. 
 
 ' Well, well, my dear,' she said, with a little sigh, 
 ' I don't ask you to feel what perhaps it is not natural
 
 2i6 THE PARIAH 
 
 that you should feel. I am quite sure that you will see 
 ouc day that I am riglit in the course I am taking; 
 and if Allen is the chief objection, Margot,' she added, 
 ' be patient, dearest, a little while. Young men are 
 not generally great stay-at-homes ! '
 
 217 
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 THE DANGERS OF NOT KNOWING WHEN TO STOP 
 
 It was some time before Lady Yaverland found leisure 
 to fix a day for making the acquaintance of her sister's 
 husband-elect, but she did so at last, and even sent an 
 invitation to dinner. ' It had better be dinner, George,' 
 she had said to her husband ; ' I don't want poor Selina 
 to feel herself abandoned, and we need not see anything 
 of them afterwards, you know. And if we don't have 
 them now, we shall have to ask them down to Arreton 
 later ! ' 
 
 ' It was a very quiet little dinner — " only just our- 
 selves," ' as Lady Yaverland had explained ; even the 
 daughters of the house were not present, and their 
 absence was not accounted for. Perhaps the dinner 
 did not promise to establish any very cordial relations 
 for the future between the principal persons concerned. 
 Chadwick had seen enough of the world not to feel in- 
 timidated by the presence of a peer, but he took rather 
 more pains to make this evident than he need have 
 done. In fact, he talked down and contradicted his 
 host so persistently that Lord Yaverland, though the 
 mildest and least exacting of noblemen, became a little
 
 2i8 THE PARIAH 
 
 restive at last, and liis wife deemed it necessary to 
 rebuke the offender. ' Perliaps you don't know, Mr. 
 Chadwick — and if so I may tell you,' she said, with 
 au ambiguous blandness, ' that the indigo question, and, 
 in fact, Indian affairs generally, have been a special 
 study of Lord Yaverland's for some year?. ! ' 
 
 ' Can't help that, my lady,' said Chadwick. ' Of 
 course, if his lordship tells me he's heetx there, that's 
 another thing ! ' 
 
 ' It has always been a dream of mine,' said the host, 
 ' to visit a countrj^ in which I take considerable interest, 
 but, as a matter of fact ' 
 
 ' You haven't got beyond dreaming at present ? ' 
 interrupted Chadwick, with his loud laugh. ' That's 
 where it is, you see ! Not that you'd know muL-h more 
 about it if you went ; they'd show you round, and tell 
 you just as much as they wanted you to know, and, after 
 six weeks of that sort of thing, you'd come back and 
 write an article in a crack magazine, or a book very 
 likely, and think you had settled the whole question. 
 Now I've hecn out there, lived there over twenty years, 
 and 1 know what 7'm talking about, and 1 tell you, you 
 may take it from tne ' 
 
 ' Forgive me,' said Lord Yaverlaud stiffly, ' there 
 are some things I really cannot consent to take from 
 anybody. Selina, was Trouville at all crowded this 
 season ? ' 
 
 ^frs. Chevening saw of course that her future hns- 
 band was not producing the best of impressions, l)ut 
 she accepted it philosophically enough. She did not
 
 NOT KNOWING WHEN TO STOP 219 
 
 care very much wlietlier her sister and she were to be 
 intimate in future or not ; their paths had always lain 
 too much apart to make that a very likely contingency ; 
 and now, though she was willing that Chadwick should 
 understand that if she was poor she was no adventuress, 
 she did not expect this meeting to lead to anything. 
 Even Chadwick's breaches of the ordinary amenities of 
 life did not cause her any acute distress — he was ' like 
 that,' and it was of no use minding ; but she was glad 
 that Margot, who had been included in the invitation, 
 had declined to accompany her — she would not have 
 liked to see the expression she knew her daughter's face 
 would have worn. 
 
 When the two sisters were alone together in the 
 great drawing-room, Lady Yaverland began with a little 
 hesitation : ' I hope, Selina,' she said, ' I hope you are 
 quite — qiiite sure that this is a — a wise thing you are 
 going to do ? ' 
 
 ' Really, Gwendolen,' retorted Mrs. Chevening, with 
 a rather accelerated beat of her fan, ' I think I may be 
 considered old enough to manage my own affairs. I 
 have been left to manage them for myself all these 
 years ! ' 
 
 ' And a dreadful muddle you have made of them ! ' 
 came into Lady Yaverland's mind, but all she said was, 
 ' You mustn't be angry with me, Selina ; I can't help 
 asking, because — because — well, it is so very unlike 
 anything I should have expected you to do ! ' 
 
 ' It is all very well, Gwendolen,' said Mrs. Cheven- 
 ing ; ' I don't pretend that I should have done quite
 
 220 THE PARIAH 
 
 tliis, if 1 hadn't been so horribly poor. But wliat 
 was I to do y You know ijoii wouldn't have helped 
 me!' 
 
 ' It is unkind of you to say that,' interposed Lady 
 Yaverland, who f>-lt this thrust to come unpleasantly 
 near home. ' You never asked rae — though ' (this was 
 due to a recollection that her purse might still be not 
 out of danger) * 1 assure you I have so many claims 
 upon me that I often dont know where to turn for 
 money myself. However, it is different for you now 
 — you will not be horribly poor any longer at all 
 events ! ' 
 
 ' No, I suppose not. And really he is very 
 good ! ' 
 
 ' I don't doubt it for a moment, and of course, as 
 you say, you are the best judge ; I dare say you will be 
 very happy.' 
 
 In parting Chadwick gave his host and hostess a 
 pressing invitation to visit them at his place at Gorse- 
 combe after the marriage. ' Always pleased to see any 
 of Selina's family, my lord,' he assured him ; ' just drop 
 us a line a day or two before to say we're to expect you, 
 and you may depend upon us to let you know if it's 
 inconvenient — run down when you can, and no cere- 
 mony,' 
 
 To which Lady Yaverland had replied somewhat 
 frostily for herself and her husband, that ' Mr. Chad- 
 wick was too kind — but they so seldom paid any visits 
 now.' 
 
 ' An oflensive fellow, Gwen ! ' Lord Yaverland re-
 
 NOT KNOWING WHEN TO STOP 221 
 
 marked, when liis guests were gone ; ' don't know when 
 I've seen a more offensive fellow. What on earth pos- 
 sessed Selina to take up with him ? ' 
 
 ' Poor dear Selina ! ' said his wife, ' she has her 
 girls to think of. He's very well off, I understand. 
 I'm afraid we can't know them, though.' 
 
 ' I couldn't stand him at Arreton, I know that. 
 SeKna must come alone if she comes at all.' 
 
 ' She won't expect it ; she is very sensible about 
 some things. We have done our duty, at least; we 
 can run up for the wedding, you know — I'm afraid you've 
 had a boring evening, George ? ' 
 
 ' Well, my dear, I did find him a trifle fatiguing.' 
 
 ' Think what it will be for poor Selina ! ' 
 
 ' That's Ixer look-out ! ' said Lord Yaverland, as he 
 retired to his library. At about the same time Chadwick, 
 as he escorted Mrs. Chevening home, was reviewing the 
 evening with complacency. 
 
 ' I think, Selina,' he was saying, ' I gave his lord- 
 ship a wrinkle or two ' (a surmise which was more 
 literally correct than he imagined). ' I tackled him 
 about India — did you hear me ? I always get my 
 monkey up when I hear these swells laying down the 
 law about indigo, when all the time they don't know 
 the difference between a ryot and a gantidar ! Still, I 
 hope I was civil, eh ? ' 
 
 ' I think, if anything, you were almost too — too 
 respectful in some ways,' hazarded Mrs. Chevening. 
 ' George isn't accustomed to be called " my lord'' quite 
 so often.'
 
 222 THE PARIAH 
 
 ' Why, I threw it in from time to time, just to 
 show 1 irinembered the difference in rank between us,' 
 cried Chadwick. ' God bless my soul, Selina, do you 
 suppose I don't know how to behave — even if I \uive 
 lived amongst niggers all my litr ? You seem to think 
 I'm an ignorant boor by the way you talk, hanged if 
 you don't ! " 
 
 ' Indeed, Joshua, I never thought any sucli thing ! " 
 protested Mrs. Chevening, who saw that his pride was 
 seriously ruffled, ' and I'm sure George was very much 
 struck by all you said — I thought you were so right 
 about things.' 
 
 ' Riorht ? I should think I xcus ri^rht ! ' said Chad- 
 wick, mollified at once ; ' he knocked under completely 
 after you went. I've taken rather a fancy to him, I 
 must say, and your sister seems a pleasant woman — 
 stiffer than / care about — but pleasant.' 
 
 ' Gwendolen am be very pleasant,' said her sister. 
 
 ' Well,' said Chadwick, ' I can't trot out any lords 
 on imj side of the family, Selina, but perhaps we're none 
 the worse for that. Not that I've any objection to lords 
 as such, but I don't run after 'em, and I'm in no hurry 
 for them to run after ■)7ie! ' 
 
 ' I scarcely think you are likely to suffer any annoy- 
 ance of that land," ]\Irs. Chevening could not help 
 retorting; to wliieli he replied, in all sincerity, tliat he 
 ' did not advise any lord to try it on.' 
 
 Christmas approached, the last tliey were all to spend 
 at Osier House, w hicli fact alone would have been enough 
 to spoil the day in anticipation for Margot, even if the
 
 NOT KNOWING WHEN TO STOP 223 
 
 party at tlie dinner-table were not to be joined by Allen 
 and his father. Chadwick had engaged quarters for 
 Christmas at a hotel in Chiswick, and it was arranged 
 that Allen should come up and share them. He was 
 almost as much at the house as his father, and it fell to the 
 girls' lot to entertain him, which they found as irksome 
 a task as ever. Margot had schooled herself once more 
 to behave to him with a kind of severe tolerance, and, 
 as usual, he accepted this as a symptom of growing 
 friendliness, and responded with what disdainful Margot 
 chose to consider odious familiarity — though, could she 
 have known it, there was nothing but the purest respect 
 and admiration in his feelings for her. 
 
 However, she could not, or would not, see it, and 
 escaped from the infliction of his company as often as 
 she could, sometimes soothing her irritation by lonely 
 walks along the quaint old-world streets and alleys by 
 the riverside between Hammersmith and Kew bridges ; 
 for Margot preferred, when in these moods, to walk 
 alone. 
 
 She had gone out one afternoon a day or two before 
 Christmas, and followed the road which, after striking 
 inland to save a curve of the bank, returns again to the 
 river through one of the most picturesque of old 
 suburban streets. 
 
 How she loved it now — this irregular winding 
 thoroughfare of old brick houses, with projecting cor- 
 belled roofs, whose white-sashed windows must have 
 seen Hogarth's sturdy figure pass and repass many a 
 . time ! The little shops were bright with Christmas
 
 224 THE r ARIA If 
 
 cheer ; in tlie greengrocer's window stood tlie little 
 figure of Father Christmas, wjiirli had made its annual 
 reappearance there every year she had been in Chiswick 
 — it would come out again next year, no doubt, 
 but she would not be there to see. The grim old 
 mansions further on showed a glimpse of warmth and 
 firelight through the tall windows, and here, at the end 
 of the lane, was the church, and through a gap the 
 river showed a dull lead-colour, with oily eddies and 
 flaws on its sw^ollen surface, and the faint outlines of 
 trees on the opposite bank ; a tug with a trail of barges 
 in its wake came panting and puffing down, as if pro- 
 testing against overwork. It was still light, the day 
 had been mild for the season, and the rain had not long 
 cleared; ]\Iargot walked on, unwilling to turn back just 
 then, her whole thoughts absorbed in self-pity. She 
 had left the river again, had passed a timber-yard, 
 where a log was screaming like a hurt animal under 
 the whirr of the steam-saw, and now she had come to a 
 quiet old terrace, which, reserving its best side for the 
 river, presents the anomalous appearance of having all 
 its front doors at the back. At the end of this row of 
 quaint diminutive pillared porches and irregularly 
 placed windows, she had resolved to turn, but, before 
 she reached it, some one came towards her from the 
 narrow lane in front, and, witli a curious mixture of 
 feeling, she saw that it was Nugent Orme. 
 
 Orme, of course, had been at least as quick in recog- 
 nising her, in spite of the failing light and the partial 
 disguise of her vrinter wraps. People who had once
 
 NOT KNOWING WHEN TO STOP 225 
 
 known Miss Chevening were not apt to pass her by, 
 and, as it chanced, he was thinking of her at that very 
 moment. To tell the truth, this was not the first time 
 he had taken this walk of late, and with a faint unde- 
 fined expectation of some such encounter as this, though 
 hitherto only to experience the puzzling fact that the 
 last place, as a rule, to find people one is anxious to 
 meet, is the neighbourhood where they happen to 
 dwell. 
 
 This time he had a definite reason for turning his 
 steps in that direction, as he had to see somebody at 
 Chiswick, though he had set out to walk there by the 
 longer way along the river bank, less with any real 
 hope of seeing Miss Chevening than to please his fancy 
 once more with the endeavour to identify her house 
 among the many comfortable old houses by the riverside 
 with the trees darkening their verandahed fronts. 
 
 From this it will be perceived that the impression 
 Miss Chevening had left on him was deeper after all 
 than he had been disposed to believe at the time. He 
 was constantly making efforts to call up her features 
 and expression exactly ; sometimes with a tantalising 
 flash of success, generally with results distressing by 
 their vagueness. He speculated about her a good deal, 
 too, going back often in fancy to that delicious scene 
 of reconciliation on his last night, and trying to pene- 
 trate her motives. If only he could be quite sure she 
 was as anxious to keep his friendship as she seemed — 
 if only she was as frank and unaffected as he had 
 believed at the time — if she had not been practising on 
 
 VOL. I. Q
 
 226 THE PARIAH 
 
 him for some reason or other ! All this did not affect 
 either his rest or his appetite, but it gave his leisure 
 thoughts an interest, a pervading romance and senti- 
 ment wliich had not begun to fade as yet. 
 
 Now he saw her again, and instantly felt how faith- 
 lessly and inadequately his memory had served him — 
 the reality was so far more charming, there was so 
 much that he had unaccountably forgotten ! That 
 blending in her of the imperious young goddess and 
 the wilful child, for instance, had escaped him utterly 
 till he saw her now. She smiled at him as she held 
 out her hand ; her eyes were kind, though her mouth 
 was a little tremulous, and she looked less buovant and 
 less happy than he remembered her; she had not for- 
 gotten him, but he fancied she was not altogether glad 
 to see him just then. 
 
 ' Is this one of your haunts ? ' she inquired, as they 
 stood there. 
 
 He explained, without thinking it necessary to 
 mention that it was not his first visit, that he had to 
 call at a Chiswick hotel on business of his father's. 
 
 ' Do you know that you have chosen the most 
 roundabout way to get there ? ' 
 
 ' Have I really ? ' he said hypocritically ; ' however, 
 it is too late to alter that now.' 
 
 'Youm/r//(/ reach the main road from here if you 
 are pressed for time, but it is much the uglier way 
 certainly. I was just tui-ning back, so, if you like, we 
 might walk together part of the way, and I could put 
 you in the right road.'
 
 NOT KNOWING WHEN TO STOP 237 
 
 Miss Chevening did not know, and I am afraid did 
 not greatly care, how far she was warranted by the 
 proprieties in making this offer. At first, the pain 
 of meeting him had outweighed the pleasure, and her 
 impulse had been to pass on after a few commonplace 
 words, and go back by a different way. But when she 
 saw the very evident pleasure in his eyes, she had not 
 the heart for this — it would be pleasant after all to talk 
 with him again, even though it was all so changed now. 
 
 How gratefully and gladly he accejjted need not 
 be said. He had found her again, more kind and more 
 beautiful than ever ; he was walking by her side, and 
 she was talking to him with the old sweet brusqueness, 
 and a delicate note of sadness in her voice sometimes 
 that endeared her more to him than any gaiety. 
 
 ' It seems years ago since the Trouville days,' she 
 said, and added : ' I mean so many things have hap- 
 pened since — to me at least.' She was wondering— 
 half hopefully — if he had heard ; she was sure he would 
 be sorry for her. 
 
 ' Pleasant things, I hope ? ' he said. He knew 
 nothing, then ; could she bring herself to tell him ? 
 
 ' No, indeed ; nothing will ever be pleasant any 
 more ! ' said Miss Chevening, in a tone of mournful 
 conviction. 
 
 ' I am so sorry — so sincerely sorry,' he said gently. 
 ' I hardly dare to ask questions, but — it is not ill- 
 ness ? ' 
 
 'Nothing to do with illness. We — we shall have 
 to leave our pi'etty old house, for one thing.' 
 
 Q 2
 
 228 THE PARIAH 
 
 'You are not leaving England?' lie asked anxiously. 
 
 *No — I almost wish we were, instead of — But I 
 
 can't tell you just now, I will try to tell you presently, 
 
 if I am able. Now, tell me about yourself, and all that 
 
 you have been doing since we parted.' 
 
 Seeing that she evidently meant to change the 
 subject, he gave her as much of his history during 
 the past months as was likely to be of any interest to 
 her, and she listened and made comments which he 
 thought showed a delightful interest in his proceedings, 
 and by-and-by they passed to general topics. And 
 they walked on, past Chiswick Mall (where she pro- 
 fessed to know the very house where Miss Pinkerton 
 had once kept her celebrated academy, and the gate 
 through which the Sedley coach had driven that summer 
 day with Amelia and Becky Sharp inside, and black 
 Sambo behind), past the church, and the little angle 
 of eighteenth-century buildings, with the more modern, 
 but still old-fashioned, shops below the red brick bulg- 
 ing fronts and high brown roofs ; the butcher's, with its 
 Christmas show of red and white joints ; the grocer's, 
 where the heat of the gas made a misty blur on the 
 sraall-paned shop-fronts. Then into gloom again, under 
 the bulging ivy-topped walls of private parks, with 
 glimpses through the railings of green and mildewed 
 statues, looking slightly uncanny in the gathering 
 gloom \ and, here and there, amongst the shadowy 
 trunks and tree-tops, a great cedar rising in darker 
 outline against the grey background. Then along a 
 lonely road facing the west, where a gleam of stormy
 
 NOT KNOWING WHEN TO STOP 229 
 
 yellow showed that the sun was setting, and on till the 
 river came in sight once more, and the willows and 
 poplars were delicately traced against a sunset sky 
 which had suddenly become mottled with vivid patches 
 of olive, grey, green, crocus and blue. 
 
 They met scarcely anybody ; this old-world region, 
 though surrounded by building estates, and villas, and 
 flaring new shops, seems forgotten, untouched amidst 
 so much change — given over for a little longer to dig- 
 nified decay and ghostly memories of past grandeur; 
 there was a strange intimate charm to him in walking 
 there with her in the silence and solitude, something 
 dreamy and poetic in the place which both felt. 
 
 ' You are not very far from your journey's end now, 
 Mr. Orme,' she said, with a return to practical life, as 
 they entered the region of brick and stucco once more, 
 and saw the tall mass of the water-tower painted in 
 faint grey monochrome upon the green evening sky. 
 ' I will show you a short cut which will take you to the 
 hotel.' 
 
 ' The hotel ? ' he said abstractedly ; ' to be sure, I 
 was going there. That reminds me ' (the young man 
 was glad to catch at any excuses for prolonging the 
 conversation), ' I don't think I mentioned who it is I 
 am going to see. You remember the Chad wicks at the 
 Californie ? ' 
 
 ' Very well,' she said — the possibility that he was 
 going to call on Mr. Chadwick had already occurred to 
 her — she had expected this, and tried to avert it. Now 
 it had come.
 
 230 THE PARIAH 
 
 ' I remember,' he said, ' that they were not favourites 
 of yours ; still it may interest you to hear that the father 
 is going to marry again.' 
 
 She would tell him in a moment — not yet ; she put 
 off her revelation, not unwilling that he should be 
 impressed by her stoicism. ' It does interest me — very 
 much,' she said, with her enigmatic smile. ' Do you — 
 have you heard who the lady is ? ' 
 
 ' Only the mere fact at present, and not even that 
 till a day or two ago. I am sorry for that poor young 
 fellow.' 
 
 ' Sorry — sorry for liim ? ' Miss Chevening flamed 
 out suddenly. ' I should have thought other persons 
 were more to be pitied ! ' 
 
 ' So you haven't forgiven him even yet ! ' he said, 
 smiling at this proof that the old petulant prejudice was 
 still alive ; ' aren't you rather hard on him, Miss 
 Chevening ? ' 
 
 ' But why should lie be the person to be pitied for 
 his father's second marriage ? ' she persisted. 
 
 The pleasantest conversations generally have a stage 
 at which we could wish, afterwards, they had ended — 
 little aa he knew it, Orme was passing that stage now. 
 
 ' Well, you see,' he explained, ' he's an only son, 
 and — well, I gathered from what I was told that the 
 lady who is going to marry his father was not doing so 
 out of disinterested affection exactly. And, though you 
 will probably decline to believe that anybody would marry 
 him for love, a woman who does it for money is not 
 likely to prove the best conceivable step-mother, is she ? '
 
 NOT KNOWING WHEN TO STOP 231 
 
 They were standing togetlier at the point where the 
 riverside path begins again — though the road is con- 
 tinued inland. In the pain, the indignant surprise, and 
 shame which that imprudent speech of his had excited, 
 all impulse to enlighten him vanished. Where now was 
 the compassion — the respectful and admiring compassion 
 — she had looked for? How could she tell him, after 
 that ? Was this how the world would look at it ? Oh, 
 the world was cruel and stupid, and she hated it ! The 
 scene around her suddenly became dreary and dismal — 
 she hated it all ; the humble little riverside cottages and 
 ancient taverns, the muddy path, the dim black barges 
 close in under the bank, between which the water was 
 swashing and gurgling mournfully, the pale river glid- 
 ing by, the ugly lattice bridge over which a train, a 
 long line of yellow bars, was passing repeated in the 
 water below, all seemed an appropriate background to 
 her wretchedness at that moment. 
 
 ' I — I don't agree with you at all,' she said tremu- 
 lously; ' it is you who are not charitable now! And," 
 she added, recovering her dignity, ' I will say good-bye 
 here, please, Mr. Orme.' 
 
 He felt that her manner had altered, that he had 
 received his dismissal, but he did not suspect the extent 
 of his offence. She never could mention young Chadwick 
 without that hostility ; he ought to have known better, 
 he reflected, as he went on alone, but with no serious 
 uneasiness. Nothing could dash his spirits just then 
 — he had found her again — his beautiful, unforgettable 
 friend, and he had new recollections to live upon until
 
 232 THE PARIAH 
 
 he saw her again — for that he should see her again, he 
 was certain ! She was more deliglitful than ever, less 
 abrupt and imperious, gentler and more subdued. He 
 must not let himself fall in love with her — that was out 
 of the question as yet — but what if, some day — ? For a 
 man who was not admittedly in love he found a pleasure 
 in dwelling upon the possibility of becoming so which 
 might have caused him to beware. But perhaps he no 
 longer wished to beware. He had known when he set 
 out to walk that afternoon, so he told himself now, that 
 this afternoon was not to be as any common afternoon. 
 Margot went on her way in a very different frame 
 of mind : she had been punished, she thought bitterly, 
 for her desire to enjoy Nugent Orme's companionship 
 once more for a little while ! When he knew that he 
 had been speaking slightingly to her of her own mother, 
 what would he feel ? Would it make him despise them 
 all ? And then she remembered his manner when they 
 met by the terrace that afternoon — he did like her, she 
 was certain, he had been very glad to see her again, he 
 would be horrified with himself when he knew, and he 
 would be sorry for her. It was useless trying to feel angry 
 with him — he had offended in perfect innocence. She felt 
 that she might be sure of a staunch friend in him. 
 But now she would be leaving London very soon, and 
 then she would lose sight of him — this time altogether 
 perhaps ! It might have been so different if — if it were 
 not for this marriage ; nnd, as she reached this point in 
 her meditations, all her displeasure as usual concentrated 
 itself upon one unconscious and unoffending head.
 
 233 
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 A MODUS VIVENDI 
 
 On s'ennuie toujours avec les gens avec qui il n'est pas permis de 
 s'ennuyer. La Rochefoucauld. 
 
 Miss Chevening tiad very little farther to go ; after 
 passing a quaint old inn, with a cheery glow behind its 
 striped blinds, an irregular and incongruous row of 
 buildings — small shops, cottages, and at intervals a 
 house of some importance, all standing within a few 
 feet of the river bank — she stopped at a gate close be- 
 hind which a steep flight of stone steps led up to a 
 door between two slender columns supporting an over- 
 hanging bay, and this was Osier House, her home for 
 only a very little while longer. 
 
 The door was opened by a housemaid, who was in 
 secret a severe trial to Margot, so far was she from 
 coming up to the West-End standard of domestic 
 smartness and neatness. 
 
 ' Whv, vou have had a walk, miss ! ' said this hand- 
 maiden, with a cheerful grin, which Margot would have 
 preferred to see exchanged for a cleaner apron ; however, 
 all that did not matter much now. 
 
 ' Yes,' she said ; ' have you brought up tea yet, 
 Anne ? '
 
 234 THE PARIAH 
 
 * Why, no ; I ain't ony just come down from titlying 
 myself, miss,' said this unblushing person, 'but I'm 
 going to bring the younger ones theirs in tlie &chool- 
 room ; will you take yours there, or up in the droring- 
 room with the mistress ? Mr. Chadwick, hcW be in soon.' 
 
 ' In the schoolroom,' Miss Chevening interrupted 
 quickly ; and, her serenity very far from recovered, she 
 went into the schoolroom, where she found them all 
 engaged over some round game of cards. 
 
 'Quite a happy family!' she exclaimed with a 
 touch of her habitual disdain, when she saw that Allen 
 was amongst the party. 
 
 ' Mother said we were to play,' explained Lettice ; 
 ' don't you think we could stop now, Margot ? ' she 
 added in a plaintive voice. 
 
 ' It is so unpleasant playing with anybody who 
 cheats whenever he can ! ' struck in Ida. ' I saw him 
 taking my counters.' 
 
 ' It was only for a lark, Margot,' Allen protested ; 
 ' it's not as if we were playing for money.' 
 
 ' You do draw that distinction then ! ' said Margrot ; 
 ' but why cheat at all ? it's not generally considered 
 part of the fun — at least not with us ! ' 
 
 ' I won't cheat any more,' said Allen, ' if you'll 
 come and play too, Margot ? ' 
 
 ' Not even that inducement tempts me,' she returned ; 
 ' and, Camilla, I fancy you might let them leave off 
 now ; they seem tired of it.' 
 
 '"Well,' said Miss Henderson, 'if ^Ir. Allen will 
 excuse us, I do think the game has lasted long enough.'
 
 A MODUS VIVENDI 235 
 
 ' I didn't want to play cards,' said Allen, who had 
 certainly been given small reason to enjoy this par- 
 ticular game, ' it was your mother set us down to it.' 
 
 ' Mother didn't know you wouldn't play fair,' said 
 Lettice, who attached a serious importance to winning 
 counters ; ' that spoils everything ! ' 
 
 ' Yes,' added Reggie, ' it's cheating to look at your 
 cards before playing, and that's what you did every- 
 time; if you cheat, we ought all to cheat, or it's not 
 fair ! ' 
 
 ' I've told you it was all by way of a joke like ! ' said 
 Allen ; ' but of course I can't do anything to please you 
 — I'm ready enough to stop, I can tell you.' 
 
 He was more irritated than usual, for his cheating 
 had been a very obvious and simple performance, due 
 to some blundering idea of promoting the hilarity, 
 which struck him as wanting, for some reason. He was 
 not aware that the humour of an unpopular person 
 must be irresistible indeed to extort success, but then 
 he was not aware either how unpopular he was. 
 
 He could not take his eyes from Margot as she 
 stood there, with the delicate colour in her cheeks 
 freshened by her walk ; he had hoped she would join 
 them, and, perhaps, take his part against the rest, for 
 he always felt as if he knew her best, and it made him 
 very sore that she, too, should seem to turn against him. 
 
 ' Please don't let us all lose our tempers,' said 
 Margot ; ' they don't understand your peculiar notions 
 about games of chance, Allen, that is all.' 
 
 ' Now you're bringing that Petits Chevaux business
 
 236 THE PARIAH 
 
 up again ! ' he said, almost savagely ; ' haven't I tokl 
 you how that was ? I didn't think you'd throw that 
 ill my teeth, Margot ! ' 
 
 ' I had no intention of throwing anything in your 
 teeth,' she returned haughtily; 'they have had enough 
 of cards for this evening, as you must see by this time.' 
 
 ' Perhaps you've had enough of me too ? ' he asked 
 roughly, though his voice quivered. 
 
 Marcjot shruefjjed her shoulders. ' No one has said 
 so,' she answered ; ' stay by all means, if you like to 
 behave yourself.' 
 
 ' I wont stay ! ' said Allen — ' not to be treated 
 this way. I'm willing enough to be pleasant — but 
 you're all against me, every one of you ! Anyone 
 would think I wasn't fit to come near you. You forget 
 it's my father who ' 
 
 Margot's eyes gleamed with anger as she held open 
 the door. ' Will you kindly go out of the room before 
 you say another word ? ' she said, very quietly. 
 
 He was cowed in an instant. ' I — I wasn't going to 
 say anything,' he said ; ' you — you derive me to it — 
 you're so precious hard on a chap ! ' 
 
 ' Go ! ' was all Margot said ; and he went, out of the 
 room and out of the house, with a feeling that he was 
 in hopeless disgrace. 
 
 The girls looked at one another blankly as the 
 front door slammed. ' We liave done it now,' said Ida ; 
 * he will tell mother, and she'll be awfully angry ; you 
 know how particularly she told us not to quarrel with 
 him.'
 
 A MODUS VIVEXDI 237 
 
 ' He may tell mother, if he wishes to,' said Margot. 
 ' What a delightful, lovable brother he will make ! We 
 ought to be very gTateful girls ! ' 
 
 Allen was walking back to the hotel, the only place 
 he could go to, with a growing sense of injustice. He 
 liked them all so much — and thev would not like him ! 
 and now they had made him lose his temper and say 
 things (or very nearly say them) that he had never 
 meant to do. What had possessed him, and how could 
 he regain Margot's good opinion ? He quite believed he 
 was winning it till then, and he could not bear his life 
 if she would not forgive him. 
 
 Some one was just leaving the hotel as he came up ; 
 he heard his father's voice calling from the portico — 
 ' Good-bye ; glad you came over, and you may tell your 
 father what I said.' 
 
 Then a tall, well set-up figure was about to pass 
 him. 
 
 ' Orme ! ' cried Allen ; ' I say — Mr. Orme ! ' 
 
 Orme stopped. ' So you're at Chiswick too ! ' he 
 said ; ' why, I haven't seen you since our Trouville time ; 
 how are things with you, old fellow ? ' 
 
 There was a kindness in his voice that went to 
 Allen's heart just then. 'They're bad,' he said dole- 
 fully — ' beastly bad. I'm that wretched, Orme, I can't 
 bear myself ! ' 
 
 Orme drew his arm within his. ' Tell us all about 
 it,' he said encouragingly. 
 
 '■ You've heard mv father's oroinof to g-et married 
 again ? ' began Allen.
 
 238 THE PARIAH 
 
 ' I have just been told, and to whom I ' replied 
 Orme, wincing slightly ; he was a little hurt at ]\Ijirgot's 
 reticence, and just beginning to recall with shame his 
 own rash and unpardonable remarks. ' But I can't 
 see,' he continued, ' that you've any reason to be so 
 wretched as that, though I know it's hard perhaps at 
 first; 
 
 Then Allen confided to him the cause of his un- 
 happiness, and the scene which had just taken place. 
 ' I should be nothing but pleased about it,' he concluded, 
 ' if Margot — if tlicijd only show signs of coming round ; 
 but they're all against me ; I can't satisfy them, do 
 what I will ! Mrs. Chevening, she's the only one now 
 that speaks me civil.' 
 
 Orme could not help making excuses for Miss 
 Chevening in his heart ; he knew the strength of her 
 prejudices, and perhaps he felt what it must be to her 
 to have to receive this unfortunate neglected boy as 
 her equal ; he hiid been as prejudiced himself not so 
 very long ago — he pitied both sides, and her not less 
 of the two. 
 
 But he did his best to smooth matters. ' Look 
 here,' he said, ' don't make too much of this — you 
 mustn't expect to get on with them quite at once. 
 Have patience, and it will all come right. All you 
 have to do is to wait. I wouldn't appear to force 
 myself on them, you know. Kemember, it's a great 
 change for them as well as for you • they will feel that 
 for a little time — it's natural ! ' 
 
 ' But Margot's had plenty of time to get used to me ! '
 
 A MODUS VIVENDI 239 
 
 said Allen ; ' I thouglit she was used to me — and now 
 she's as hard on me as the rest of 'em.' 
 
 ' Miss Chevening is — is quick-tempered, I dare say,' 
 said Nugent, ' but she's generous too. When she sees 
 that you really want to be on good terms with them all, 
 and only ask to be met half-way, depend upon it she 
 will be kinder ; she doesn't understand that quite yet.' 
 
 ' If I could only think that, I wouldn't mind,' he 
 declared ; ' she might treat me as unkind as she chose, 
 I'd bear it cheerful ! I would, Orme, so long as she 
 came round in the end. What I"m so unhappy about 
 is, that p'raps she never ivill come round ! ' 
 
 ' She will, my dear fellow,' said Orme ; ' I'll answer 
 for it she will, if you're patient. Meet her as if all this 
 had not happened, and let her see that you are ready 
 to forget it and be friends if she chooses, but leave it to 
 her to make any advances.' 
 
 ' I will,' said Allen ; ' I'll do that — thank you, 
 Orme ; but I don't believe it'll be any use. I know Fd 
 be glad enough if it would ! ' 
 
 Orme parted from him at the Gunnersbury Station 
 with a deeper pity. " Poor young fellow ! ' he was 
 thinking, ' I wonder if I gave him the right advice — 
 I hope I have. She can so well afford to treat him 
 decently, with all the advantages on her side. I don't 
 believe she can be bad-hearted, with that face ! Still, 
 he will have a good deal to overcome.' And then he 
 occupied himself with the more personal consideration 
 of whether he, too, had offended irremediably that 
 afternoon. ' If I had known, I would have cut mv
 
 240 \TliE PARIAH 
 
 toiifjue out sooner than make that infernally foolish 
 speech ! ' he thought irritably ; ' but who could have 
 thought such a thing possible ? There, it's uu use 
 thinking of it ! ' 
 
 As he went back to his rooms his expedition began 
 to appear more eventful than satisfactory. ' We're 
 both in the same boat,' he told himself grimly, ' except 
 that he has a chance of putting himself right with her, 
 and I haven't — unless it comes at the Vicarage some 
 day.' 
 
 Chadwick came in that evening as usual. ' Christ- 
 mas will be on us very soon now,' he remarked (he had 
 a talent for platitude), ' Day after to-morrow. Well, 
 it will be rather a different sort of Christmas from the 
 ones IVe had to spend for the last twenty years ! ' 
 
 ' A pleasanter, 1 hope ! ' said Mrs. Chevening. 
 
 ' Ah, you may say that.' Why, last year, except a 
 half-share in a concern that hadn't paid for eighteen 
 months, I wasn't worth a rupee. I didn't keep 
 Christmas much out there, I can tell you. But they 
 take care you don't forget it in the old countr}'. You 
 wouldn't believe the number of begging letters I get, 
 which reminds me — you'll be interested in this, young 
 lady,' he added, turning to Margot, who knew what was 
 coming and tried hard to seem indifferent, — ' who d'ye 
 suppose now I had calling on me this afetruoon ? — some 
 one you've met. Give a guess.' 
 
 ' I never was clever at guessing ! ' replied Margot, 
 hoping that her face was not betraying her. 
 
 * Well, 1 thought you'd have guessed this — it was
 
 A MODUS VIVENDI 241 
 
 that clever young tutor fellow I got for my boy. Came 
 about some fund or other his father, the Vicar, got me 
 to say I'd do something for. Young Orme didn't know 
 who was to be the second Mrs. Chadwick till I told 
 him, Selina. A rare surprise it was to him to find she'd 
 turned out to be an old friend of his ! ' 
 
 ' Really, Joshua,' said Mrs. Chevening, ' I should 
 hardly call him a friend of mine. I never particularly 
 noticed him.' 
 
 ' Ah, and I suppose I shall hear now that Miss 
 Margot didn't notice him particularly either ! ' 
 
 * Of course I noticed him,' said Margot calmly ; ' I 
 saw and spoke to him several times — he was one of 
 your friends. What then ? ' 
 
 ' Nothing that I know of,' answered Chadwick, who 
 was not quite at ease with this stately step-daughter of 
 his. ' I asked him to come back with me and have a 
 talk about old times with you two ladies, but he said he 
 must get back to town.' 
 
 ' I can"t profess to be sorry to have missed him,' said 
 Mrs. Chevening ; ' he was not the sort of young man 
 that I take much interest in ; and besides, we are not 
 likely to see anything of him again.' 
 
 ' I don't know that,' said Chadwick ; ' he'll be down 
 at the Vicarage sometimes, I dare say, for the holidays ; 
 he's going down to-morrow, he said. I thought I told 
 you his father was the Vicar of Gorsecombe.' 
 
 Margot listened, and all at once, for some reason she 
 could not account for, her lot seemed to have grown 
 more supportable. She found comfort, excitement 
 
 VOL. I. R
 
 242 THE PARIAH 
 
 even, in the thonght that Ler mother's marriage would 
 bring her nearer to some one who she instinctively felt 
 admired her, whose good opinion she valued, whose 
 sympathy she desired. 
 
 He would be there now and then to see the trials 
 she would have to submit to, and her heroism under 
 tliem — for of course she would be heroic. She forgot 
 the humiliation she had felt at the idea of his learning 
 her changed fortunes. A.fter all, it was through no fault 
 of hers — why hadn't she told him herself at once ? She 
 fancied she knew what had led him to decline Mr, 
 Chadwick's offer to bring him to Osier House, and liked 
 him the better for it. 
 
 Altogether, when Allen came in presently, full of 
 misgivings but resolved to carry out Orme's advice, he 
 found, to his joy and surprise, that it was no longer 
 necessary. ^largot seemed entirely to have forgotten 
 her recent displeasure, and was gentler and more nearly 
 cordial than he had ever known her yet. She even 
 be"un a conversation with him of her own accord, while 
 their respective parents were discussing some decorator's 
 plans at the other end of the room, and for the first time 
 she condescended to show an interest in the neighbour- 
 hood they were all to live in. If her questions reverted 
 from time to time to the Vicarage and its occupants, he 
 was not likely to notice that under the new sensation 
 of finding his remarks received with attentive interest. 
 
 He took this to be a sign that her heart smote her 
 with a sense tluit she had been unkind, and that she 
 had set herself to make amends. It was true what
 
 A MODUS VIVENDI 243 
 
 Orme had said — she was generous ; but, whether kind 
 or cruel, generous or unforgiving, she exercised a power 
 over him that would be hard to destroy. 
 
 Christmas passed, the new year outwore its novelty, 
 and, according to the calendar, winter was already 
 giving place to spring, though shrivelling winds and 
 black frosts gave an even more bitterly ironical turn 
 than usual to the season of promise and hope. 
 
 But at Osier House Miss Chevening had other 
 things to occupy her thoughts than the state of the 
 weather; her mother's marriage was to take place at 
 the end of the month, and time was rushing on in a 
 whirl of preparation in which she could not avoid being 
 more or less involved, however she tried to keep aloof. 
 
 Mrs. Chevening always resented the indifference 
 her eldest daughter displayed in the arrangements that 
 were being made in their future home. She would 
 come home after having been absent all day, super- 
 intending the redecoration and furnishing which she 
 had persuaded Chadwick were indispensable, and would 
 find Margot provokingly uninterested. 
 
 ' Really, the house looks quite a different place 
 already ! " she would say. ' I've chosen the sweetest paper 
 for your room, dearest one, with a pattern of all willow 
 leaves in blended tints of pale olive — quite simple, but 
 so pretty ! ' 
 
 ' Have you, dear ? ' Margot would answer ; ' thank 
 you.' 
 
 ' I wanted you to choose for yourself, you know, but 
 you wouldn't, you idle child.' (It was not idleness, as 
 
 E 2
 
 244 THE PARIAH 
 
 her uiother knew very well, thougli she chose to con- 
 sider it so.) ' Now do rouse yourself from that chair 
 and come here and say what you think you would like 
 to go with the paper — here are all the patterns.' 
 
 * I can't tell without having seen the paper.' 
 
 ' I kept a piece on purpose — there, I'll save you the 
 trouble of coming, I'll bring the patterns to you. Am I 
 not a good mother ? ' 
 
 Margot would turn over the little books with listless 
 white fingers for a few moments, and then give them 
 back, saying, ' I really don't mind what it is, mother ; 
 choose what you think best and I shall be quite 
 satisfied.' 
 
 ' That is not a very gi-ateful return for Mr. Chad- 
 wick's kindness — he was particularly anxious that your 
 tastes should be considered in every way.' 
 
 ' Was he ? it is kind of him ; but really I've no 
 preferences.' 
 
 ' Then am I to tell the upholsterer's man he may 
 put up what he pleases ? ' 
 
 ' If you like, dear,' Miss Chevening would reply 
 languidly ; and then, with more animation, ' Isui the 
 ui^holsterer's man, mother ! xjou choose for me ! ' 
 
 ' Indeed, my dear, if you do not think it worth 
 taking some trouble about, yourself, I certainly shall 
 not worry about it.' 
 
 '"Well, I will just look at the patterns and paper 
 once more,' Miss Chevening was reduced to saying 
 humbly, with a sense of being untrue to herself. 
 
 Margot had resolved beforehand that, if she was
 
 A MODUS VIVEXDI 245 
 
 compelled to enter the house of bondage, she would not 
 at least be so compliant as to betray any interest in the 
 appointments of her prison-chamber. Perhaps, how- 
 ever, she felt that she could place reliance upon her 
 mother's taste ; whereas that not unskilful mention of 
 the upholsterer had shattered all her apathy at a blow. 
 
 On one other point, too, she had been roused to 
 disregard her personal dignity. Her mother had hinted 
 at keeping Anne in her service as a maid for her 
 daughters. This was more than Miss Chevening's 
 philosophy could stand. 
 
 ' Please, not Anne, dear ! ' she said. 
 
 ' She seemed so anxious to come,' said her mother ; 
 ' she's been with us eighteen months, and she's a very 
 respectable girl. I thought you liked her, dear.' 
 
 ' Oh, I like her very well,' replied Margot, ' but I 
 don't want a maid.' 
 
 ' If you don't, Ida and Lettie will, as nurse is going.' 
 
 ' Well, then,' said Margot, driven desperate, ' if we 
 must have one, do let us have somebody about us who 
 is nice and attractive to look at. I couldn't bear to let 
 Anne touch me ! Surely, now^ we can have maids like 
 other people ? ' 
 
 ' Anne is a dreadful slattern, certainly. If I adver- 
 tise, will you see the people when they come for the 
 place ? ' 
 
 ' No, dear, you see them,' pleaded Margot ; ' I 
 shouldn't know in the least what to say to them, or ask 
 them, I'm so helpless in all these things.' 
 
 So she obtained her own way, without having to
 
 246 THE PARIAH 
 
 undertake any personal exertion. She was weak after 
 all ; even her opposition to tlic marriaf^^e was not so 
 strong as it had been. She caught lurself sometimes 
 forming plans and anticipations for the new life with a 
 fickleness which she despised. There were moments 
 when she actually had to reniiinl herself of the un- 
 paralleled indignity to which she would be constantly 
 exposed, and the surest means of doing so was to think 
 of Allen Chadwick, who little suspected his eflScacy as a 
 mental stimulant. 
 
 And now the remaining days of Mrs. Chevening s 
 widowhood had dwindled to very few indeed ; the banns 
 had been twice read out in the church by the riverside. 
 Maro-ot had heard them announced once with downcast 
 eyes and hot cheeks — ' between Joshua Smithson Chad- 
 wick, widower, of the parish of Gorsecombe, Pineshire, 
 and Seliua Letitia Chevening, widow, of this parish.' 
 There was no just cause or impediment except to the 
 mind of the girl who sat there with the vision before 
 her of a neglected grave far away on a forgotten Asian 
 battlefield. 
 
 ' I suppose,' said Chadwick one evening, ' it isn't the 
 ridit thinof to have bridesmaids — eh, Selina ? ' 
 
 ' Surely you know that ! ' was the answer. 
 
 ' Well, I'm not up in these matters— the only time 
 I went through it we got it done at a Registry office. 
 But there's no harm in treating the two elder girls as 
 bridesmaids in one respect, I dare say ? ' 
 
 Maigot, who, with Ida, was in the room at the time, 
 looked up quickly.
 
 A MODUS VIVENDI 247 
 
 ' I don't in the least know wliat you mean,' said her 
 mother. 
 
 Chadwick was feeling in his pockets with a comfort- 
 able sort of chuckle. 
 
 ' Why, I don't profess, as I said, to know about these 
 things, but I understand it's usual for the happy man tc 
 give the bridesmaids a small present, just to remember 
 the occasion by. So ' — here he tossed a packet into 
 Margot's lap and another upon the sofa where Ida was 
 sitting — ' there's yours, and there's yours.' 
 
 ' Joshua,' cried Mrs. Chevening, ' how kind you are 
 to my poor girls — they haven't words to thank you just 
 yet ... it is really too — too good of you to thiuk of 
 them ! ' 
 
 Margot was opening the parcel with reluctant deli- 
 beration ; inside was a morocco case, which she found to 
 contain a locket. It was of immense size and solidity, 
 and in the centre was a large carbuncle set in turquoises 
 and an enamelled border. It was costly and it was 
 undeniably hideous. She gazed at it in dismay. 
 
 ' Handsome articles, aren't they ? ' said Chadwick 
 complacently ; ' they're both alike. I told the jeweller 
 to make me a duplicate, so that you shouldn't say I 
 made any distinctions between you. I think your 
 mother would like to have a look when you've done, 
 young lady.' 
 
 It is always embarrassing to express gratitude in 
 words, but never more so, perhaps, than when we are 
 called upon to thank some one we do not like for some- 
 thing we do not want.
 
 348 THE PARIAH 
 
 Margot would have given anything to be able to re- 
 fuse this gift, especially as it was not an ornament she 
 could bring herself to wear, but she knew that anything 
 but acceptance was impossible. She crossed to where 
 riiadwick was sitting and held out her hand meekly. 
 ' I can only say " Thank you," ' she said. 
 
 ' Well, well,' he replied, ' I know young ladies are 
 fond of finery — mind, you take care of it, that's all. But 
 aren't you going to give me a kiss for it ? ' 
 
 j\Iargot cast an appealing glance at her mother, who 
 judged it better to interpose. 
 
 ' Margot never was a kissing person, Joshua, so I 
 think you must excuse her. I'm sure she is very, very 
 grateful for so — so handsome a present — aren't you, 
 darling ? ' 
 
 ' Yes, mother,' said Margot, escaping with relief 
 
 Ida, who had not been equally fortunate, joined her 
 presently in a little sitting-room at the back. 
 
 ' Aren't they dreadful, Margot ? ' she exclaimed. 
 
 ' Hideous ! ' said Miss Chevening, opening the case 
 containing her own locket, and regarding it with uncon- 
 cealed distaste. ' TlViy must he give us anything, and 
 why such things as these ?' 
 
 ' Shall you wear yours, ]\Iargot ? ' 
 
 ' Wear it ? ' exclaimed Miss Chevening. ' Wear 
 iliis ! How could I ? I wish it wasn't wrong to want 
 to throw it into the river. No, I shall have to keep it, 
 but I will not — I simply will not wear it ! ' 
 
 ' Is that the way you talk of presents when they're 
 given you ? ' said a voice from the doorway. It was
 
 A MODUS VIVENDI 249 
 
 Allen's ; lie had come up to the hotel again that week 
 and had been in the drawing-room, a witness to the 
 presentation scene, though the girls had not noticed him 
 at the time. Now he had followed them out with a hope 
 of receiving some thanks for his own share in the trans- 
 action, which consisted in helping his father in the diffi- 
 cult work of selection. 
 
 ' You were not intended to hear what we said,' said 
 Miss Chevening loftily. 
 
 ' You spoke loud enough,' he said, ' and the door was 
 left open — but look here, what's the matter with the 
 lockets ? ' 
 
 ' Nothing,' said Margot, ' nothing is the matter with 
 the lockets — they are very big and exiaensive and 
 handsome.' 
 
 • That's what I should have said. Why won't you 
 wear them, then ? ' 
 
 ' You don't understand these things,' said Margot, 
 feeling it useless to deny her words. ' Girls of our — of 
 our age, don't wear expensive jewels like these.' 
 
 ' They're not so expensive as they look,' said the 
 candid Allen. 
 
 ' Expensive or not, they are not the sort of things 
 that are worn — that was all we meant.' 
 
 ' Then I'll tell the governor, and get him to have 
 them changed,' he proposed. 
 
 ' If you wish to make mischief, do so, but I warn you 
 that, if you say a word of what you had no right to listen 
 to at all, I will never speak to you again if I can help 
 it. I mean it, Allen.'
 
 2 so THE PARIAH 
 
 ' I tlkln't mean it for mischief, only to do 3-ou a 
 good turn,' he protested ; ' but if you dont want nie to 
 say anything, why, I won't, and there's an end of it. 
 Why do you always try to make out that I'm intending 
 what never came in my head ? ' 
 
 ' Don't let it come into your head, then.' 
 
 ' Well,' he said, ' whether you wear those lockets or 
 not, they're worth something, you know. They aren't 
 expensive, considering they look so showy ; but you could 
 sell them each any day in the week for fifteen pounds 
 a- piece at the very least — any jeweller 'd give you that 
 for em ! ' 
 
 ' It is a pity that so much money has been wasted 
 upon us,' said Margot, lifting her cliin, ' because, you 
 see, we are not in the habit of selling our jewellery, 
 whether we are able to wear it or not." 
 
 ' Of course I know you wouldn't do it yourselves,' 
 he said, ' but you might want money on a sudden some 
 day. I'd manage it all for you. I've had to do it with 
 things of my own now and then. It's useful to know — 
 that's all I meant.' 
 
 ' When I think proper to entrust you with any of 
 my belongings to dispose of,' returned Miss Chevening, 
 with freezing dignity, ' I shall let you know. I am not 
 quite reduced to that just yet.' 
 
 ' There's nothing to be offended at,' he said, be- 
 tween shame and sullenness ; ' none was intended, 
 I'm sure.' 
 
 ' There is no use in being offended. If you could 
 only understand that money is not the principal object
 
 A MODUS VIVENDI 251 
 
 in life, your conversation would be so much pleasanter 
 to listen to, that's all.' 
 
 ' I dare say, if all was known, I'm not more set on 
 money than other people,' he retorted. ' IVe known 
 what it was to want it. Tell me what I can say that 
 will be pleasant to listen to, and 111 try to oblige.' 
 
 ' Then I will,' said Margot. ' It would be very 
 pleasant to hear you say, well — something of this sort : 
 " I"m afraid I am interrupting you, so I'll leave you to 
 finish vour talk." ' 
 
 ' Ah ! ' he said bitterly, ' you don't try to make ijour 
 conversation over-pleasant, anyhow. I suppose that's a 
 hint for me to go ? ' 
 
 ' You are getting quite quick at seeing things, 
 Allen,' remarked Ida. 
 
 Margot began to be afraid she had said too much. 
 ' No, but, Allen,' she said, more gently, ' don't think 
 it unkind, but we really would rather be alone just 
 now.' 
 
 ' If you'd spoken like that at first,' he said, ' I 
 wouldn't have minded. I don't wish to stav where I'm 
 not wanted, only I like to be treated civil.' 
 
 ' We will treat you " civil," then,' said Margot, 
 holding out her hand ; ' there, good night, Allen . . . 
 Oh, how rough you are, you have crushed my hand ! ' 
 
 ' I — I didn't mean to. I can't do anything right, I 
 know ; good-night.' 
 
 And one dull bleak day in March, with a low grey- 
 green sky from which a few small snowflakes fell occa- 
 sionally and a drv lead-coloured haze that was more
 
 252 THE PARI AH 
 
 depressing than fog, Mrs. Chevening was united in holy 
 wedlock to Joshua Chadwick in the church on the river- 
 bank, and the tradesmen of Chiswick and Turnham 
 Green, though they refrained from any open manifesta- 
 tions, rejoiced inwardly with an exceeding great joy. 
 
 Margot was in the churcli and heard her mother 
 pronounce the word which assigned herself and them to 
 a strange and unknown power. Lettice was there, and 
 said afterwards that it would have been much more 
 cheerful if they had only lighted the chanticleer. Ida 
 wept in torrents with the luxury of really having some- 
 thing to weep for. Allen was there in the lightest of 
 his gloves and trousers, like a super at one of the inter- 
 rupted weddings on the stage. Lord and Lady Yaver- 
 land honoured the ceremony with their presence and left 
 early. 
 
 That is all that need be said hero of that wed- 
 ding, important as the stage is which it marks in this 
 history. 
 
 Still a little later and the last farewell had been said 
 to the dear old house of which the Chevening family 
 had during their mother's honeymoon — as that period 
 must, however inappropriately, be called — been in un- 
 disturbed possession. 
 
 They had arrived at their new home, Agra House. 
 Even Miss Chevening was compelled to own in her 
 private mind that it might have been much worse. It 
 was big, and florid, and pretentious, but it had been 
 designed with a view to comfort, and now the interior 
 had been decorated, and furnished, according to her
 
 A MODUS VIVENDI 253 
 
 motlier's directions, and contained nothing to offend the 
 eye. The grounds, too, were large and well laid out. 
 
 There was a surprise in store for Miss Chevening. 
 When she rang for her maid, the girl her mother had 
 engaged in place of cashiered homely Anne, the face of 
 the person who answered her ring seemed strangely and 
 not quite pleasantly familiar. At last she remembered. 
 ' I think,' she observed carelessly, ' we last met on board 
 the Littlehampton steamer, and you were extremely 
 uncivil.' 
 
 Susan, for it was the same girl whom she had 
 heard abusing little Henri on the Trouville plage^ 
 reddened under her freckles. ' Was I, miss ? ' she said ; 
 ' I beg your pardon, I'm sure, if I was ; but I'd just lost 
 my place, miss, and my feelings was hurt. I wasn't 
 answerable for what I said ; and, seeing I'm here,' she 
 went on, ' though little thinking to wait on you, miss, 
 I hope you won't say anything to get me turned away. 
 I can truly say I'll do my best to give satisfaction.' 
 
 Margot looked at the girl : she was neatly if co- 
 quettishly dressed; she was rather good-looking; she 
 seemed deft-handed and respectful ; she would do well 
 enough. 
 
 ' So long as you understand that you are to treat 
 Miss Lettie with proper respect,' she said, ' I shall not 
 interfere. But you will kindly remember you are not 
 in France, and that you are my sisters' maid, not their 
 nurse.' 
 
 ' Yes, miss ; certainly, miss, thank you ; and I'm 
 sure I'm obliged to you,' said Susan. But outside the
 
 254 THE PARIAH 
 
 door she said : ' I thouglit my place was gone as soon as 
 I saw her face. Well, I've got round her this time, so 
 I needn't bother. That pride o' yours may have a fall 
 some fine day, young lady, and when it does I should 
 like to be at hand looking on ! '
 
 Book III 
 
 PEELIMINAEIES TO HANGING A DOG
 
 257 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 COMMENTS AFTER CHURCH 
 
 Who marks in church time others' symmetry, 
 Makes all their beauty his deformity. 
 
 G. Herbert. 
 
 Ox a certain bright April Sunday, those of the in- 
 habitants of Gorsecombe who had attended the parish 
 church found themselves at the conclusion of the service 
 provided with a more than commonly exciting topic. 
 
 Mr. Chadwick and his newly-acquired family had 
 made their first appearance there in public, causing 
 the devotions of too many among the congregation to 
 resemble those of Claudius, King of Denmark. 
 
 In the churchyard and on the homeward ways 
 tongues generally were let loose in criticism, curiosity, 
 and speculation. 
 
 Mrs. Eddlestone, of Holly Bank, a widow with strong 
 social inclinations and three plain but accomplished 
 daughters, conscientiously refrained from mentioning 
 the subject until the lych-gate was cleared, when, with- 
 out waiting for ^liss Momber to finish her strictures on 
 the folly of keeping the church stove alight so late in 
 the spring, she began forthwith : ' So the Agra House 
 people have come back at last ? ' 
 
 VOL. I. s
 
 258 THE PARIAH 
 
 ' Oil, yes,' said Miss Member, ' the governess and 
 the girls arrived on Friday — they had the carriage to 
 meet them and a cart for tlu' luggage, and I suppose 
 the bride and bridegroom must have come last night.' 
 
 ' I wonder how it was we never heard of it — take 
 care, my dear, or you'll be run over, that new coachman 
 the Hothams have does drive so recklessly, some one 
 really ought to speak to them about it. Came last 
 night, did they ? Well, they haven't lost any time in 
 showing themselves. I must say she is rather better 
 than I had expected, and the daughters quite pretty — 
 which makes it more of a pity, you know ! ' 
 
 ' Why ? ' asked Miss Momber bluntly — ' how a 
 pity ? ' 
 
 ' Well, I suppose we can't very well call on them 
 — no one has, yet.' 
 
 ' That was different — he was living alone then. / 
 shall call as soon as they've had time to settle down.' 
 
 ' Shall you, really ? ' (Mrs. Eddlestone was surprised, 
 for Miss Momber had the reputation of being extremely 
 exclusive.) ' I wouldn't mind for myself, but, with my 
 girls to consider, I hardly like to risk it. The late man 
 was not recognised by anyone, to speak of, and no one 
 seems to know this one. And I must say I thought 
 her manner in church this morning so unbecoming; 
 such affectation to pretend not to know that people 
 were looking at her, and the daughters, too, dressed so 
 conspicuously ! ' 
 
 ' I thought they had on very pretty frocks.' (Here 
 Miss Momber glanced at the backs of the three Miss
 
 COMMENTS AFTER CHURCH 259 
 
 Eddlestones in front, for whom a local dressmaker had 
 too evidently done her very worst.) ' She's rather too 
 fine for him — that's all / see against her.' 
 ' But we don't know who she was^ 
 ' Weren't you there when Mr. Liversedge was telling 
 me ? Oh no, you had left. She's the widow of a colonel 
 who was killed in India some years ago, and she has a 
 sister who is married to Lord Yaverland.' 
 
 ' Oh,' said Mrs. Eddlestone. ' Well, I suppose we 
 ought to make them feel as much at home as possible. 
 Gorsecombe will be all the better for a little fresh blood. 
 What day were you thinking of calling ? You might 
 look in for me on your way up.' 
 
 In the main street of the village were little knots of 
 ' chapel folk' who had been dismissed half an hour 
 before, but still lingered at various doors in the spring 
 sunshine. As Chadwick and his wife, followed by 
 Allen and the three girls (Reggie was away at school), 
 passed up the centre of the road many eyes regarded 
 them. 
 
 ' I should ha' thought,' said Mrs. Nutkins, a widow 
 who kept a small sweetstuff and fruit shop, ' as ke 
 might ha' give the preference to Ebenezer, as was built 
 by his own father, just this first Sunday of all, go where 
 he might afterwards. To think he's never set a foot in 
 the chapel, and his father, poor old gentleman, fillin' 
 his pew reg'lar Sunday after Sunday and always a 
 sovereign in the plate when it come round, and the 
 curtain he had put up in his seat for the drafties, there 
 to this day to testify to him.' 
 
 s 2
 
 26o THE PARIAH 
 
 ' They do say,' said ^Ir, Spufford, the serious draper, 
 ' that this one has been away out in India years and 
 years, nigger slave-driving. That may have set him 
 against cliapel going — there's no telling.' 
 
 ' More likely it's this dressed-up fine madam of a 
 wife of his, as thinks it beneath her to worship except 
 it's along of the gentry. Not as he's one of them, by 
 rights. I've heard tell as his father was only a big 
 draper like, up at London, and began wonderful small, 
 no bigger than yourself, Mr. Spuftbrd.' 
 
 Mr. Spufford was a stout young man with a puffy 
 white face, mutton-chop whiskers and small eyes. 
 ' Small beginnings may be wonderfully blest,' he said, 
 with pious hopefulness ; ' but it's sad to see a brother 
 forsaking the faith of his forefathers and taking to him- 
 self a wife from amongst the Philistines. Not but what 
 there's this much to be thankful for, Mrs. Nutkins, that 
 we're spared from having the latest spring fashions 
 entering into Ebenezer and causing the eyes of 
 our young maidens to offend — look at it that way, 
 ma'am ! ' 
 
 ' Ah, you're such a one for making the best o' things, 
 but neither you nor me nor many in Gorsecombe "11 be 
 any the better off for them being here — they'll have 
 everything sent down from London they can, and what 
 custom they give 11 go to church folk over chapel, you 
 see if it don't ! ' 
 
 * Well,' said Mr. Spufford, with a mart}T's sigh, ' it 
 will be all made up to us in another world, that is one 
 comfort, Mrs. Nutkins. And now I must be going in to
 
 COMMENTS AFTER CHURCH 261 
 
 my dinner, if you'll excuse me. Shall I see you at 
 chapel this evening ? ' 
 
 In the kitchen of the Seven Stars sat old Mrs. 
 Parkinjear, the landlady, waiting for her granddaughter's 
 return from church. ]\Irs. Parkinjear was a stout 
 old ladv with a brown front and a velvet band across 
 her forehead. At every sound from the back-door she 
 turned in that direction a pair of pale eyes as unspecu- 
 lative in expression as a pair of glass marbles, for the 
 poor old lady was sightless. 
 
 At last there was the noise of the key raising the 
 latch, and steps on the brick floor. 
 
 ' I thought you was never coming, child ; leaving 
 me all this time, and me sitting here in my lonely 
 blindness, thinking of all that was and now is no more. 
 You're never just back from church ? ' 
 
 ' Yes, granny,' said Cassandra ; ' why, it's only 
 twenty to one now, and we're never out much be- 
 fore the half-hour.' 
 
 ' Then 'tis time that goes slower to me in my ending 
 days. Did the Vicar preach, dear man? Ah, time 
 was I used to love to sit and hear his discourses, when 
 I had my eyesight, but that's finished now — and I'm 
 finished, too, very near! Who was at church, Cas- 
 sandry ? ' 
 
 ' Most everybody that's usually there, granny — and 
 oh ! some besides. ]\Ir. Chadwick's new lady up at 
 Agra House — him and her was there, with such beauti- 
 ful-looking young ladies, dressed I couldn't tell you how 
 nice ! And one, the littlest, had the loveliest hair, and
 
 262 THE PARIAH 
 
 the snn shone down on it so bright through tlic painted 
 winder.' 
 
 ' So there's a family, and pretty, you say ? Dear, 
 dear, and me not able to see it ! The old gentleman 
 that's gone used to look in for a chat with me, maiiy's 
 the time. I liked him, 1 did, though there wasn't 
 many about these parts that had a good word for him, 
 except it was the Ebenezer folk — which he built and 
 erected it out of his own purse, so they had ought to it. 
 I wasn't of his way of thinking, but he was fond of a 
 talk with me. " I've a son out in Injia somewheres," 
 he'd say to me, when I was a-tellin him all about your 
 uncle Joe and the trouble I'd had with him. " You'll 
 be thinking o' sending for him to be a comfort to your 
 declining years ? " I'd say to him. " No, Mrs. Parkin- 
 jear, I shan't," he'd say to me. " I don't rightly know 
 where to send for him, and maybe he wouldn't come if 
 I did. I've treated him harsh in times gone by," he 
 told me, " and it's too late to put it right now ; but when 
 I'm took for death he'll find out as I've done what I 
 could to make it up to him." It was along of some 
 marriage his son had made as the old man didn't hold 
 with. And now here's the sou in his place with a boy 
 of his own, and married again to a widder with children 
 of lier own ! And all of 'em in church together this 
 very morning. Well, well ! we live in times, Cas- 
 sandry, we do that ! Ah, dear, and this is a world of 
 changes. The young gentleman, now — it'll make a sad 
 difference to him, poor thing, his nose being so put out 
 of j'int, vulgarly speaking, with a new mamma and a
 
 COMMENTS AFTER CHURCH 263 
 
 family when he'd been everybody. They say his father 
 made a deal on him when they were just here alone 
 together.' 
 
 ' He looked not to mind it much, from his face,' said 
 Cassandra. 
 
 ' Didn't he, now ? Well, he'll have playmates now 
 and companions, true enough. Postman used to tell 
 me he'd meet him along the lanes, lookin' fit to yawn 
 the head off his shoulders, and no one to go about with 
 but that young Barchard, that isn't fit company for 
 nobody, from all I hear.' 
 
 Over the mid-day dinner at the Vicarage, too, the 
 new arrivals were being discussed. ' Mamma,' said 
 Millicent Orme, 'you will call on them now, won't you? 
 I'm sure they're nice ! ' 
 
 Millicent was short, and had none of her brother's 
 good looks, but her plain and rather homely face 
 was saved from being insignificant by its animation. 
 In character she was a warm-hearted girl with a 
 large capacity for enthusiasm, and a strong sense of 
 duty. 
 
 ' I suppose we shall have to call,' said Mrs. Orme ; 
 ' but I do hope, Millicent, you will wait a little before 
 you strike up one of your violent friendships.' 
 
 ' But I know I shall like that eldest girl,' persisted 
 Millicent ; ' she is such a lovely person ; she came up the 
 aisle like some kind of splendid princess. Papa, didn't 
 you think she was lovely ? ' 
 
 ' Really, Millicent,' Mrs. Orme interposed, ' you 
 seem to forget how your father was engaged this
 
 264 THE PARIAH 
 
 morning! As if lie could possibly allow himself to 
 notice such things during the service ! ' 
 
 ' After that,' said the Vicar, with a twinkle of 
 humour in his eye, ' I feel a little difficulty in admitting 
 that I did notice them all. However, such is the scan- 
 dalous fact, my dear. The only defence I can offer is 
 that they were a few feet in front of me, and that I 
 have been constructed with eyes of average capacity.' 
 
 ' And isn't the eldest girl lovely, papa ? ' 
 
 ' glie — a — struck me as being a very beautiful 
 creature, certainly,' was the reply. ' I trembled for poor 
 Fanshawe's peace of mind when I heard how he read 
 the first lesson. He's a susceptible youth, even for a 
 curate.' 
 
 ' I don't at all approve of Mr. Fanshawe's proceed- 
 ings,' said Mrs. Orme ; ' I wish he was a little more 
 serious — he really behaves just like an ordinary young 
 man.' 
 
 ' He is an ordinary young man,' said the Vicar. 
 ' Surely, my dear, you don't consider that the average 
 curate is hedged by any divinity in particular ? Fan- 
 shawe's divinity would make rather a scrappy hedge, 
 I'm afraid. Some might say the same of his Vicar's, for 
 that matter.' And the Rev. Cyprian gave a sigh, half 
 comic, half genuine. 
 
 He was a tall, portly man, very handsome still, with 
 silvered hair, which contrasted well with his strong 
 dark eyebrows and clear roseate complexion. He was a 
 little conscious sometimes of not fulfilling the highest 
 ideal of the priestly character, and he was apt to shock
 
 COMMENTS AFTER CHURCH 265 
 
 some of liis parishioners by a manner wliich was unpar- 
 sonical, not to say secular. He was clever, and had been 
 cleverer still, indolent and easy-going, with a sense of 
 humour that was occasionally inconvenient. His wife, 
 who was almost exempted from this complaint, was a 
 little exercised at times by his lapses from clerical 
 decorum, though she generally abstained from any direct 
 reproof, preferring to convey it by implication. 
 
 In appearance she was a bright-eyed anxious little 
 woman, who had worried away any good looks she had 
 originally possessed. 
 
 ' I'm sure you preach beautiful sermons, Cyprian,' 
 she said ; ' you know how much all the people like 
 them — they go straight home to them, they always 
 say.' 
 
 ' It must be down their throats then,' said the A^icar. 
 ' I feel very much as if I were preaching to a congrega- 
 tion of fishes sometimes.' 
 
 ' But about this new Mrs. Chadwick, mamma,' 
 said Millicent. ' Don't you think this marriage will be 
 an excellent thing ? I do. I never saw anyone so 
 chanofed as that son of Mr. Chadwick's. He used to 
 look so dull and heavy and uninterested, and now, in 
 church this morning, he seemed quite bright and 
 happy. It made me like him ever so much better, 
 because some only sons would have taken their father's 
 marriage so very diflFerently.' 
 
 ' So you're making hiin out a phoenix, too, Millicent, 
 eh ? ' interrupted the Vicar. 
 
 ' Only in that. I used to dislike him very much.
 
 266 THE PARIAH 
 
 and pitied poor Nugent for having to go abroad with 
 him ; but I've f^otto like him better latelv. Wlien vou 
 think how little education he has had, he might be so 
 much worse than he is ! ' 
 
 ' He might be a little more picturesque with advan- 
 tage,' said her father lazily. ' He's one of those young 
 fellows who always strike one as incomplete without a 
 pen behind his ear. Capital ear for a pen ! ' 
 ' I think you are rather unkind, papa ! ' 
 ' It was quite unintentional, my dear,' said the 
 Vicar. ' I assure you I have the highest respect for 
 commerce and everybody connected with it. All I 
 meant was that a boyhood passed in purely mechanical 
 office-work is not, perhaps, the ideal preparation for the 
 life of a country gentleman, which I should say was 
 undeniable.' 
 
 * Are you sure that he was a clerk, papa ? ' 
 The Vicar chuckled. 'No, ]\Iillie, I am not. I 
 have sometimes had a dark suspicion that he was nearer 
 the rank of office-boy. As a matter of fact, I don't know 
 what he was ; at all events it's not of vital importance. 
 He is an addition, numerically, at all events, to Gorse- 
 combe society now. His father isn't a bad fellow in 
 his own way. Sends me a cheque like a man when I 
 appeal for any of my funds. I should say those young 
 ladies will find him a very liberal stepfather, if they go 
 the right way to manage him.' 
 
 In the long oak drawing-room at Hawleigh Court 
 that afternoon, the Chad wick marriage was honoured by 
 being made the subject of conversation.
 
 COMMENTS AFTER CHURCH 267 
 
 One or two privileged neiglibonrs had dropped in 
 about jSve o'clock ; Mr. Liversedge being among them. 
 The long drawing-room was a very inviting place, par- 
 ticularly just now. The low ceiling with its groining 
 and stalactite-like bosses was almost lost in shadow, 
 and through the latticed and mullioned windows the 
 formal yews, box-trees, and urns on the terrace took 
 the colours of old tapestry against the delicate pink and 
 primrose hues of a spring sunset. 
 
 Joceline Hotham — a sunny-faced, yellow-haired girl, 
 who just missed being pretty — was presiding at the 
 small tea-table ; Lady Adela, her mother, a large, hand- 
 some, rather stupid-looking woman, occupied a couch 
 near the fire, in which situation she could join in the 
 conversation when she felt disposed, and shut her eyes 
 in luxurious wakefulness in the interim. 
 
 ' Tea ? ' Miss Hotham was saying to Mr. Liversedge. 
 ' I haven't given you any cream. Why weren't you at 
 your parish church this morning, please ? ' 
 
 ' Domestic anxiety, ' he explained hypocritically ; 
 ' work of necessity. You see, one of my sister s canary 
 birds wasn't at all the thing this morning, not at all the 
 thing, and so I stayed at home to keep it company — 
 fact, Miss Hotham, I assure you ! ' 
 
 ' If you are a heathen, you need not make a joke of 
 it — it's serious. And to-day you really missed some- 
 thing. All the good people of Gorsecombe exciting 
 themselves tremendously — and what do you suppose 
 about ? Just because that planter man who has the 
 house with the Indian name just above the village
 
 26S THE PARIAH 
 
 happened to bring his new wife and family to church 
 for the first time. But you onglit to liave been there.' 
 * Yes, I see now that I have grossly neglected my 
 duties. I must go and pay my respects to her some 
 time — charming woman ! ' 
 
 ' Then you have seen her ? ' said Lady Adela. 
 ' Oh ! I know her — know her well. Knew her first 
 husband, the Colonel, out in India ; fine fellow he was, 
 too. Left her very fairly off, but she must needs go 
 and burn her fingers with stocks and shares and muddle 
 most of it away. But for that, she'd never have looked 
 at this man.' 
 
 ' What's wrong with the man — is he an ac- 
 quaintance of yours, too ? ' asked Lady Adela. 
 
 ' He was in my district at one time, and I came 
 across him occasionally. Didn't like him. Some of 
 the planters out there were pleasant fellows enough, 
 but i]ie\j couldn't stand him — he put their backs up 
 when he first came, by siding with the missionaries.' 
 
 * A very right and proper thing to do in m^j opinion! ' 
 said the lady, 
 
 ' Ah, but that didn't last long, he soon quarrelled 
 with them, and then he was out in the cold. He 
 seemed to change his character altogether after he'd 
 been out a little while ; became a reckless, violent, over- 
 bearing sort of fellow who cared for nobody, went 
 regularly to the bad for a time — quite a scandal he 
 caused out there. Now he's come into this fortune he's 
 reformed, sown his wild oats (or his wild indigo) and 
 turned respectable.'
 
 COMMENTS AFTER CHURCH 269 
 
 ' And how did this new wife of his come to marry 
 him ? ' 
 
 ' Ah, I can tell you the whole story, as it happens, 
 for I had the honour of bringing it about. If she 
 hadn't known me and been perfectly sure it was all right 
 about the money, she wouldn't have risked it. It was at 
 Trouville — we were all at the same hotel there — and after 
 what I told her, I saw she was trying to catch either the 
 son for her daughter, or the father for herself ; it was 
 much the same to her. And would you believe it. Lady 
 Adela, that man, who owes his domestic felicity to me, 
 is actually huffy still about some ridiculous ryots I 
 found shut up in his factory and had to wig him for ? ' 
 
 ' Who did you say slie was ? ' inquired Lady Adela. 
 
 ' She was a Mrs. Chevening.' 
 
 ' Then that explains it ! ' cried Miss Hotham, start- 
 ing up excitedly with a sparkle in her blue eyes. ' I was 
 wondering all through the sermon where it was I had 
 seen that eldest girl's face before. She was at school 
 with me. I used to admire her so awfully — all the girls 
 did — but she's improved since then. Mother, couldn't 
 you drive over there some day and take me ? I should 
 so like to see her again ! ' 
 
 ' I see no reason for calling there at all,' said Lady 
 Adela. ' I don't approve of such marriages, and I 
 shall certainly not go out of my way to countenance 
 them.' 
 
 ' And mayn't I ride over — just to see her ? ' 
 
 ' Not on any account, Joceline ; you will probably 
 meet her somewhere, and if you like to recognise her,
 
 270 THE PARIAH 
 
 of course you may. Otlior people may do as tliey please 
 about calling, but I sliall be very careful not to set the 
 example myself.' 
 
 And so, at Hawleigli at least, it was settled that the 
 Chadwicks were not to be taken up — a result to which 
 Mr. Liversedge's small talk had largely contributed ; 
 though, to balance this, he had in other quarters 
 supplied information which decided the lesser lights of 
 Gorsecombe society that the new mistress of Agra 
 House was not a person they could afford to turn their 
 backs upon. 
 
 To return to the subjects of all these conversations, 
 whom we left walking home through the village in 
 happy ignorance of the discussion their appearance had 
 provoked. 
 
 ' Well, Selina,' said Chadwick grimly, ' we've got 
 thai over ; they'll know us next Sunday.' 
 
 ' I thought you had lived in this place some 
 months,' said Mrs. Chadwick, in rather a chagrined 
 tone. 
 
 ' So I have, off and on,' he replied. ' Why ? ' 
 
 ' Only,' she said, ' that you don't seem to know any 
 of the people yet.' 
 
 ' Didn't you see little Prisk, the chemist, come up 
 and speak to me as we went out ? ' he asked ; ' and 
 Jobson, the butcher, touched his hat in the churchyard.' 
 
 ' The chemist ! the butcher ! ' she repeated with a 
 touch of contempt ; ' I meant any of the ipod people. 
 Who were the family who sat in the big pew next to 
 the chancel ? '
 
 COMMENTS AFTER CHURCH 271 
 
 ' Oil, I know them^ of course — the Hothams, of 
 Hawleigli, a few miles from here ; heavy swells, I can 
 tell you. He's a baronet and she was an earl's 
 daughter.' 
 
 ' You know them ; then why didn't they come and 
 speak to you ? ' 
 
 ' I didn't mean know them in that way. I know 
 who they are, that's all. You didn't think they'd con- 
 descend to take any notice of me, did you ? Why, 
 they're county people ! ' And he laughed at so extra- 
 vagant an idea. 
 
 ' No doubt I was verv absurd,' said his wife, and bit 
 her lips. Perhaps she had never realised till then the 
 descent she had made ; a horrible fear came upon her 
 that she might find herself condemned, after all, to a 
 position outside the pale of this dull little village, or, 
 worse still, visited by the least considerable of the in- 
 habitants as a mark of condescension. Was not even the 
 state of aristocratic pauperism in a shabby old house in 
 a London suburb, where she at least enjoyed a certain 
 amount of consideration, better than such a lot as this ? 
 Why had she shut her eyes to such a possibility ; why 
 had she persuaded herself that her poverty was so 
 intolerable, and that she could both escape it by this 
 marriage and retain all the social advantages that she 
 had always valued ? 
 
 She walked on by the side of the husband whose 
 companionship became every day a greater burden to 
 her. Was his to be the sole society she could expect 
 henceforward ? — she shivered at the thought. After all,
 
 272 THE PARIAH 
 
 she reflected, this was not a very probable contingency ; 
 county society might be exclusive, but in these days 
 even county society would hardly consider it a disquali- 
 fication to have been an indigo-planter — probably a 
 fair proportion of their younger sons were out tea- 
 planting or cattle-ranching now. If the iiuligo had 
 been all — and then she glanced aside at her husband, 
 with his plebeian features burnt an indelible red by 
 Indian suns, and rendered even less distinguished than 
 they might be from the shape and cut of his patchy 
 beard. In his white hat with the black band, his 
 aggressive white waistcoat, his frock coat with the large 
 swinging skirts, he seemed out of place in a village. 
 She could not wonder if local magnates were to hold 
 aloof, and yet — no, she would not despair, it was too 
 early to do that at present, and she remembered the 
 movement of startled involuntary admiration of the 
 congregation as her children passed down the aisle. It 
 was only a question of waiting — she must conquer in 
 the end. 
 
 ' Hennie, dear,' said Ida to Miss Henderson, as they 
 walked a few paces behind, ' I think I shall love going 
 to church here ; shan't you ? ' For Miss Henderson 
 had been induced to remain foi- the present at an 
 increased salary, and Ida was overcome with gratitude 
 for such devoted attachment. 
 
 Miss Henderson sighed : ' We shall at all events be 
 able to look forward to one or two sweet peaceful hours 
 in each week, when the strain will be relaxed for a 
 ti me ; yes, Ida, no one can rob us of that ! '
 
 COMMENTS AFTER CHURCH 273 
 
 No one, it is true, had shown any intention of 
 wishing to do so, but that trifling fact did not in Ida's 
 eyes affect the beauty of the sentiment. 
 
 ' How brave you are, Hennie ; I wonder what I 
 should do without you ! ' 
 
 ' Poor child, it is harder for you than any of them ; 
 you are such a sensitive darling. They may part 
 us yet — but there, we won't meet troubles half-way. 
 It is a dear church, and what a nice voice that curate 
 had who read the first lesson ! ' 
 
 ' Yes ; he had nice eyes, too, Hennie, didn't you 
 think, and he read beautifully, if he hadn't lost the 
 place so often.' 
 
 And they continued the conversation in a confi- 
 dential tone, perhaps from a fear lest it might reach 
 Margot's ears, for Miss Chevening was apt to be rather 
 contemptuous of this kind of talk. 
 
 They were safe enough, however, for she was at a 
 considerable distance in the rear with Lettice and 
 Allen. 
 
 ' Do you know, Margot,' said Lettice, ' I don't think 
 they're at all polite people in this village — they stared 
 so dreadiuWj ! ' 
 
 ' You should have stared at them back,' said Allen. 
 
 ' Then I should have been rude, too. I did stare 
 at the monuments, though. Such a lot of Hothams, 
 Margot, did you notice ? ' 
 
 Margot came out of her reverie with a start. ' The 
 Hothams ! What do you know about the Hothams, 
 Lettie ? ' 
 
 VOL. I. T
 
 274 THE PARIAH 
 
 ' Nothing — they seemed to be mostly dead, aud 
 they had all the bit>^<,'est tablets, that's all ! ' 
 
 'Oh, are they, though?' said Allen; 'that was Sir 
 Everard and Lady Adela, and their daughters, in that 
 pew opposite — the big square one.' 
 
 ' I should have thought they'd be in black — with so 
 
 many deaths in the family,' said Lettice. ' Oh, look, 
 
 Margot ! there they are in the carriage — it's a nicer one 
 
 han Aunt Gwendolen's. Why don't you look, Margot ? 
 
 you're turning your head the other way ! ' 
 
 ' You're forgetting your own rule about it being 
 rude to stare, darling,' said Margot, with a faint smile. 
 
 ' These swells are used to it,' said Allen ; ' they come 
 out to be stared at— don't you know that ? ' 
 
 ' You forget,' she said, with a fine irony. ' How 
 should I know what such people are like ? ' 
 
 ' Well, I don't know much about 'em myself,' he 
 confessed. 
 
 ' Then, if I were you, I don't think I should talk 
 about them.' 
 
 ' You do come down on a chap,' he said, laughing. 
 ' I can't open my mouth.' 
 
 ' Thafs a story ! ' said Lettice, looking up at him 
 critically, ' you are opening it now — quite wide.' 
 
 ' Little girls should be seen and not heard,' he said. 
 
 ' Great boys,' retorted Lettice, ' shouldn't be heard 
 or seen — when they're like you. Margot and I want 
 to talk, don't we, dear ? W^e don't want you.' 
 
 'Oh, come,' he said, 'you're not going to make me 
 walk by myself? I didn't begin it! '
 
 COMMENTS AFTER CHURCH 275 
 
 Lettice had a great idea of fairness. " I think I did 
 begin it perhaps,' she admitted. 'I suppose you can't 
 help laughing like that. I don't mind your staying, 
 if Margot doesn't.' 
 
 'I may walk with you, Margot ; you've no objec- 
 tion, have Tou ? ' 
 
 Margot was in an absent mood again. ' Oh, no,' 
 she said, recalling her thoughts with an effort, ' of 
 course you can walk with us if you want to — why not ? ' 
 
 Her thoughts were a little bitter just then ; she had 
 recognised Joceline Hotham in church, and had believed 
 that, in spite of the calm stare her old schoolfellow had 
 given her, the recognition was mutual. Under other 
 circumstances she would not have cared ; as it was, she 
 was convinced that it was on account of her mother's 
 change of name that Joceline did not come forward to 
 speak to her, though she forgot that she had been 
 careful to avoid giving her the opportunity. She felt 
 degraded in her own estimation, and shrank with an 
 exaggerated unwillingness from facing one who had 
 known her in the days when she had been serenely 
 conscious of being the daughter of a gallant and dis- 
 tinguished officer, with no relations in the world of 
 whom she had reason to be anything but proud. That 
 was her fVither, now — the coarsely-made, unpolished 
 man walking up the street ahead. This mean-looking 
 youth at her side was her brother ! How could she 
 present them to Joceline ? ' It's not snobbish,' she 
 thought, ' to be ashamed, for how can I be anything 
 else ? ' 
 
 T 2
 
 276 THE PARIAH 
 
 CHAPTER ir 
 
 ATTEMPTS TO MANUFACTURE A SILK PURSE 
 
 If doughty deeds my lady please, 
 
 Right soon I'll mount my steed; 
 And strong his arm, and fast his seat, 
 
 That bears frae me the meed. 
 
 Graham of Gartmore. 
 
 Mrs. Cuadwick's most dismal anticipations were not 
 realised. Before she had been long at Gorsecombe, 
 not only had the principal residents either called or left 
 cards, but she had been recognised by more than one 
 of the county families in the neighbourhood. 
 
 Mrs. Orme and Millicent were the first to set the 
 example, as in duty bound. Mrs. Orme, who, as some 
 clerg}Tnen's wives will, considered the formal recogni- 
 tion of the Vicarage no ordinary mark of distinction in 
 any case, and in this, a favour denoting some liberality 
 of views, was promptly made aware that the lady of 
 Agra House had no intention of being patronised. 
 
 She was impressed by the signs of taste and well- 
 directed wealth in the room she was shown into ; she 
 had expected the interior to be crude and barbaric, in 
 harmony with the pompous ugliness without. Mrs. 
 Cliadwick's manner, too, made her feel herself almost
 
 A TTEMPTS TO MANUFACTURE A SILK PURSE 277 
 
 provincial; involuntarily she found herself taking far 
 more pains to establish an intimacy than she had ever 
 intended to do on a first acquaintance. 
 
 Millicent, left to make overtures of friendship to 
 Miss Chevening, thought her even more beautiful than 
 she had on that first Sunday. How perfectly she was 
 dressed, in that dark, close-fitting blue gown, with the 
 loose folds of cool creamy stuff at her waist, and how 
 lovely her hands were as they lay in her lap or hovered 
 over the cups ! ' Like the hands of that portrait of 
 Romney s at Hawleigh Court,' thought Millicent, ad- 
 miring her quite unreservedly and disinterestedly, as 
 some girls — though by no means all — are capable of 
 admiring beauty in their own sex. 
 
 ' I hope,' she began, a little timidly, ' you begin to 
 like Gorsecombe a little ; we think it so pleasant.' 
 
 (' Mr. Orme's sister,' Margot was thinking ; ' not at 
 all like him.') ' It is a pretty village,' she said, ' but of 
 course we don't know any of the people yet.' 
 
 ' Would you like to know some of them ? ' said 
 Millicent, wondering whether she ought to be so eager ; 
 ' because — they will call, of course — but — but if you 
 would come to the Vicarage next Saturday, you would 
 meet some. Perhaps you don't care for tennis, though ? ' 
 
 ' Oh, but I do,' said Margot ; ' I should like to come, 
 very much. I suppose you are gi-eat players ? ' 
 
 ' I'm not much use at it, but my brother Nugent is 
 thought rather good, I believe.' 
 
 ' I think I have met your brother at Trouville,' said 
 Margot ; ' he was there last autumn, was he not ? '
 
 278 THE PARIAH 
 
 ' Yes; lifiw curious that you should have met liiin ; 
 I'm so ghvd ! ' cried Millicent, and feared she had been 
 too gushint^ ; she was wondering what !Miss Chevening 
 had thought of lier brother, and whether he had been 
 able to help ftilling in love with her. ' / should, if I 
 were he,' she told herself. 
 
 The hazel eyes betrayed nothing more than a friendly 
 interest as Miss Chevening asked, ' Is he staying with 
 you now ? ' 
 
 ' Oh no. poor boy, he is up in town working hard — 
 he so seldom gets away from his chambers ; he may take 
 a few days at Whitsuntide. I am very proud of my 
 brother,' added iMiliicent. 
 
 At this moment the door opened roughly and ahead 
 was llinist in. 'I say, M argot ? ' said Allen's voice, 
 
 ' have you seen ?' and then he turned red. 'Oh, I 
 
 wasn't aware you had company — excuse me ' And 
 
 the door shut again. 
 
 ' I can quite understand your feelings. Miss Orme," 
 said Margot, as Allen vanished ; ' that was my step- 
 brother ; he always has that quiet distinguished manner.' 
 
 She looked so innocently calm as she made this 
 remark, that ]\Iillicent was almost afraid to accept it as 
 ironical. ' I know him a little,' she said ; ' he used to 
 come to the Vicarage now and then. He found everything 
 a little strange at first, and I'm afraid we made liim feel 
 ratlit'P sliy. I am sorry — he is very good-natured.' 
 
 '■Yo-n are very good-n;it ured,' said Margot, a little 
 ashamed of herself ' I wish / could be. I ousrht not 
 to have spoken like that, but I can't help it always.
 
 ATTEMPTS TO MANUFACTURE A SILK PURSE 279 
 
 You see,' she added, ' I am showing the worst of 
 myself.' 
 
 ' If ihai is your worst,' protested Millicent, ' I — I 
 — am not much afraid. And, oh, I should like to have 
 you for a friend so much — if you will let me ? ' 
 
 There was an enthusiastic admiration in her eyes 
 which quite won Miss Chevening's already yielding 
 heart. ' I shall be very glad,' she said simply. ' I have 
 no friends here.' And Millicent went back to the 
 Vicarage enraptured with her new friend and devoted to 
 her service heart and soul. 
 
 Mrs. Eddlestone called, too, having stolen a march 
 upon Miss Momber ; she appeared one afternoon with 
 her three daughters. ' We're such near neighbours,' 
 she began in her high voice ; ' I've been saying to my 
 girls every day, " Now we really must go over and call on 
 the Chadwicks ! " but there are so many things to do in 
 the country, and this is absolutely the first opportunity 
 we've had. And how do you like Gorsecombe ? We're 
 very cheery people here, I can assure you. These are 
 my girls — Dottie, Pussie, and Fay — young people, you 
 see, like your own, and ready for anything in the way 
 of amusement. I'm very often told that Gorsecombe 
 would go (luiie to sleep if Holly Bank were to let, and 
 there really is a little truth in it — we do contrive to 
 keep our spirits up. I sometimes really have to beg for 
 a little peace and quietness myself ! ' 
 
 The Eddlestone girls were rather unfortunate in- 
 stances of the inconveniences of retaining a superannuated 
 pet name, Pussie being thin with large extremities,
 
 28o THE PARIAH 
 
 Dottie tall and gaunt, and Fuy alone plump. They all 
 three took possession of ^largot, and overwhelmed her 
 with questions and descriptions, without recjuiring her 
 to take any active part in the conversation, in which 
 they gave evidence of strong animal spirits and the 
 heartiest mutual adiniration. ' Do you recite, dear !Miss 
 Chevening? I hope you do. No? really ! then you must 
 come and hear Fay ; some people say they like her better 
 than Clifford Harrison, and she never even lieard him ! ' 
 
 ' You mustn't believe all Pussie says, dear ]\Iiss 
 Chevening,' said Fay. ' I know I recite abominably — 
 now, Pussie is a poet. Mr. Callembore took a piece of 
 hers for Tennyson once. Pussie's the genius of the 
 family, though Dottie is a born artist : she sketches so 
 quickly — such facility, you know, and she never had any 
 lessons ! ' 
 
 ' I'm sure you paint,' said Dottie. ' I shall be ashamed 
 to let you see my daubs ; but you must come out sketching 
 with me as soon as it gets warmer.' 
 
 ' Now,' said Fay, * do tell me whom you know as yet, 
 and we'll tell you what everybody's like. Have the 
 Callembores called ? They're (johnj to, I know. He's 
 considered so amusing, no one ever gives a dinner-party 
 without asking them : as for her, she sits and smiles, but 
 she doesn't sparkle. Not like Mrs. Megginson ; she's 
 great fun, with a husband just like a dissipated white 
 mouse. Then there's the Admiral — do you know the dear 
 Admiral ? You must know the Admiral — such a delight- 
 ful, noisy old love ! And ^Ir. Powles, haven't you 
 noticed Mr. Powles ? with a face like a Death's head —
 
 ATTEMPTS TO MANUFACTURE A SILK PURSE 281 
 
 wiien he wears a white tie, it looks exactly like the 
 cross-bones!' and so on, and so ou, until the roll of 
 residents was exhausted. 
 
 ' At all events,' said Margot, with a weary little shrug, 
 when they had gone, ' we shall not be dull. Do they 
 ever leave off talking, I wonder ? ' 
 
 ' They are a little overpowering, certainly,' said her 
 mother ; ' but they will be useful people to know.' 
 
 And through Holly Bank and the Vicarage, and visits 
 arising from meetings at these places, the Chadwicks 
 gradually became admitted into Gorsecombe society, 
 though Chadwick was rather tolerated on his wife's 
 account than welcomed on his own. 
 
 He did not seem to be aware of this, however. 
 These Gorsecombe peojDle were beginning to find out, 
 he thought, that he was worth cultivating ; he could get 
 along without them now, but if they liked to be civil 
 to him, why, he was willing to meet them half way. 
 So he came into the drawing-room at times when callers 
 were there, and did his best to be agreeable, though his 
 efforts made his wife shiver occasionally ; he drove with 
 her to return visits, and was visibly elated by invitations 
 to dinner. 
 
 There was one point on which he occasionally showed 
 himself a little intractable : he was disposed to resent 
 the way in which his son was eclipsed by his step- 
 daughters. ' Why do they leave Allen out of their 
 invites ? ' he would sav to his wife ; ' there's little notes 
 always coming in from the Vicarage or Holly Bank and 
 uch places, asking will Margot, or Margot and Ida, or
 
 282 THE PARI AH 
 
 all three and the governess, come in for lawn tennis, or 
 afternoon tea, or what not — but i never hear of their 
 askinsT Allen. What's he done to be left out ? ' 
 
 ' Why, my dear Joshua, the truth is Allen is just a 
 little inclined to keep himself in the background — he 
 doesn't seem quite at home with the people here, and 
 they conclude, of course, that he would prefer not to be 
 asked.' 
 
 ' He must come out of the background, then,' said 
 his father; ' he's a good lad enough, he only wants a little 
 encouraofement to hold his own with the best of them.' 
 
 ' I'm afraid,' sighed Mrs. Chadwick, ' he doesn't do 
 himself quite justice — that unfortunate manner of his ! ' 
 
 * What's wrong with his manner ? I don't see much 
 amiss with it myself. Shy? All ymng fellows who 
 are not puppies are shy. You can't expect a young 
 fellow brought up as he's been to take to this sort of 
 life all at once. If your girls chose, they could soon 
 put him in the way of behaving like other people — they 
 don't find any difiiculty in it themselves, apparently.' 
 
 'They have always been considered to have rather 
 good manners,' said Mrs. Chadwick. ' It is not quite a 
 new experience for them, you see.' 
 
 'Well,' concluded Chadwick, 'I nmst give him a 
 talking to, that's all ; I can't have my son left out in 
 the cold. He must do like other young fellows in his 
 position.' 
 
 But if Allen was left unnoticed by Gorsecombe, he 
 was contented enough ; he was under the same roof 
 with Margot, he saw her every day, and could even
 
 ATTEMPTS TO MANUFACTURE A SILK PURSE 283 
 
 address her by her cliristian name without fearing a 
 rebuke. She was not ungracious to him, too, in her 
 careless fashion ; habit was doing its usual work, and 
 she submitted to the necessity of listening and re- 
 plying to his remarks without open impatience, even 
 though her inward repulsion was as deep as ever, and 
 she was not really more reconciled to being so nearly 
 related to one at whom she even avoided looking unless 
 absolutely compelled. 
 
 And though Ida took far less trouble to hide her 
 feelings, and Allen's sentiments for her were not cor- 
 dial, he had succeeded at last in recommending himself 
 to Lettice's favour. Yarrow had acted as the mediator 
 between them. ' It's funny that Margot's dog should 
 be so fond of vou,' she told him candidlv, and then 
 added, with a gleam of tact, ' at least, I mean because 
 he doesn't generally make friends with anybody all at 
 once, you know ; but if he likes jt'ou, I suppose I must.' 
 
 It was rather a patronising form of liking, it must 
 be confessed, such as Lettice might have bestowed upon 
 a gardener's boy, or a stable-help, but Allen was not 
 particular. 
 
 He felt his own inferiority deeply, in spite of spas- 
 modic and rather pathetic attempts to assert himself. 
 Next to Margot— who seemed to him a being infinitely 
 far removed and to be worshipped in secret under pain 
 of arousing her displeasure — this little sister of hers held 
 the dearest place in his heart, with her quaint alternations 
 of dignity and fun, and her pretty chatter like the trill- 
 ing of some voluble small bird. He did her bidding
 
 284 THE PARIAH 
 
 liumbly, although he ventured to adopt a more familiar 
 and brotherly manner towards her, and Lettice occasion- 
 ally criticised his shortcomings with a freedom which 
 he took in perfect good part. ' I suppose,' she said to 
 him meditatively one day, when he was assisting her 
 in some gardening operations, 'you never had any 
 governess when you were little ? ' 
 
 ' Me ? ' said Allen, with his spluttering laugh, ' not 
 much ; whv ? ' 
 
 ' Only because — you won't mind my telling you, 
 will you ? — she would have taught you how to eat 
 differently. You do make — well, rather a noise, you 
 know, and then you eat so very fast. I had to be told 
 how myself! ' she added considerately. 
 
 ' I never thought how I eat before. I say, Lettie, 
 does — does Margot ever say anything about it ? ' 
 
 ' Margot ? — oh look, isn't that one of those horrid 
 little green atheists on that stalk ? No, it's too early for 
 them yet, isn't it ? — No, ]\largot doesn't ; mother does 
 sometimes, so I thought I'd speak to you myself. I 
 was sure it was only because you didn't Imoir — there, 
 that's enough water for those things ! i 11 race you to 
 the monkey-tree ! ' 
 
 Unfortunately the result of these well-meant moni- 
 tions was only to make him more self-conscious at meals 
 than ever ; his step-mother's expression was very elo- 
 quent at times, but she made no remark until one day, 
 when some (jaucJierie of his at luncheon had provoked 
 even his father, whose watchfulness had been aroused 
 by private complaints, to make a comment. ' I did not
 
 ATTEMPTS TO MANUFACTURE A SILK PURSE 285 
 
 like to speak before,' she said, ' but really, with every 
 disposition to make allowances, I think we might expect 
 soyne regard to be shown to the ordinary rules of be- 
 haviour. It isn't much to ask from you, Allen ! ' 
 
 ' I — I did it without thinking,' he said. ' I'm sure I 
 ask your pardon.' 
 
 Mrs. Chevening gave a resigned little sigh ; Margot 
 kept her eyes on the table, and Lettice alone looked 
 at the culprit with serious eyes, and her cheeks sympa- 
 thetically flushed. 
 
 ' If you can't understand that you're sitting at a 
 gentleman's table,' said his father, ' the best thing you 
 can do is to leave it.' 
 
 His father had never before seen anvthinsr amiss 
 with his manners, thought Allen, as he rose with a 
 vague impression that it was required of him. ' Don't 
 send him away this time,' pleaded Lettice, ' he does 
 mean to behave nicely ! ' 
 
 ' / don't want him to go so long as he minds his 
 maimers,' said Chadwick gruffly ; ' sit down, Allen, and 
 don't make a fool of yourself — d'ye hear ? ' 
 
 He sat down with a fiery face and a swelling of his 
 heart. He felt disgraced in Margot's eyes as she sat there 
 with her air of being aloof from it all ; even Lettice's 
 intercession had hurt him, somehow, though he was 
 grateful for her good intentions. 
 
 This incident, trivial as it was, had the effect of 
 opening Chadwick's eyes more clearly to his son's de- 
 fects. His wife was careful to keep them before him 
 without appearing to show more than a motherly solici-
 
 286 THE PARIAH 
 
 tuJi', and tliey began to worry him ut last. Still the 
 fatherly instinct within him, which hud slumbered so 
 many years and had been quickened by his son's 
 admiring and dutiful attitude on their first acquaint- 
 ance, made him fertile in excuses and plans. 
 
 ' People down here won't trouble about his being a 
 bit rough,' he would say ; ' and he'll soon get over that, 
 with a little looking after. He'll do very well if he 
 takes to sport, and he's young enough still to make 
 himself good at that sort of thing. I must see that he 
 keeps up his riding.' 
 
 And one day at breakfast he said suddenly : ' I 
 suppose you feel pretty comfortable in the saddle now, 
 eh, Allen ? ' 
 
 ' I haven't ridden since we've all been here together,' 
 said Allen. 
 
 ' I know that ; I meant to ride with you myself, but 
 I've had other things to think about — but when you did 
 ride, you were all right, eh ? ' 
 
 ' IVetty well,' said Allen, conscious of some exaggera- 
 tion, even in this. 
 
 ' Ah, you can't ride the new carriage horses, you 
 know, and I want my own cob myself, so I shall have 
 to see about getting a horse for you — well, can't you 
 swif something?' 
 
 ' Thanks, father.' 
 
 ' And you must learn to stick on it. I want you to 
 follow the hounds next season. I'm too old to take to 
 it myself, so there's more reason you should do it for 
 me — that's the way ]}0iCl[ have to make your friends.'
 
 ATTEMPTS TO MANUFACTURE A SILK PURSE 287 
 
 Allen heard with a certain pleasurable excitement ; 
 he had ridden very seldom, and the sober old carriage- 
 horse that carried him had spared him any unpleasant 
 experiences. He thought it would be a fine thing to have 
 a horse of his own and hunt when the winter came, as 
 if he had been a country gentleman all his life — perhaps 
 Margot would look on him then with greater respect ! 
 
 Chadwick lost no time in fulfilling his promise by 
 going up to Tattersall's and selecting a horse — a hand- 
 some, powerful beast with excellent manners, which 
 could be trusted to carry Allen. After trying it him- 
 self, he rode out daily with Allen, who did his best to 
 perfect his horsemanship. Unfortunately he might 
 conceivably have had a better riding-master, for, though 
 Chadwick had of necessity ridden constantly in India, 
 and had a firm enough seat, he found it difficult to 
 communicate his method, except by advising his son to 
 stick on and not let his horse get the better of him — 
 rules which, after all, rather beg the question at issue. 
 
 However, the new horse went well enough, and he 
 was not observant enough to see that Allen had no real 
 notion of controlling him, and was only fortified bv his 
 father's presence. ' Plenty of action ! ' Chadwick would 
 say complacently ; ■ you're getting on terms with him 
 already, and there are not many young fellows about 
 here better mounted, I can tell you — cost me a pretty 
 penny. Hussar did. Steady, horse. Lost your stirrups, 
 eh ? that's nothing — you must learn to do without "em, 
 vou'll shake down rit^lit enoug^h.' 
 
 lu a somewhat difiierent sense, Allen thought this
 
 288 THE PARIAH 
 
 only too probable ; but in his atixietv to satisfy his ftither, 
 he did not dare to betray by words how extremely pre- 
 carious he felt his tenure of the saddle to be, and, thanks 
 to the forbearance of Hussar, who was quite aware that 
 he was under close supervision, he avoided any actual 
 mischance. 
 
 And Chadwick, naturally anxious to feel proud of 
 his son, did not need much encouragement to make him 
 so ; he began to make little half-jocular half-boasting 
 allusions to Allen's riding to persons he happened to be 
 talking with. ' Oh,' he would say, ' there aren't many 
 places round here we dont know by this time, my son 
 and I. We ride a good deal — every day, wet or fine. 
 It's not so much on my own account as his, the young 
 rascal — getting quite the jockey, ha-ha ! ' Or he would 
 say to some member of the hunt after dinner : ' No, I 
 shan't come out myself next autumn, never went in for 
 pigsticking or polo or a run after jackal out in Bengal, 
 had too much to do — all that has come in since my time. 
 But there's my son, he'll represent me, and, between 
 ourselves, I don't fancy I shall be ashamed of him across 
 country by the time he's had a little more practice.' 
 And his hearer, if he had chanced to observe Allen on 
 horseback, would do his best to control his countenance 
 and reply with a civil hope that they would see young 
 Mr. Chadwick in the hunting-field before very long. 
 
 It flattered the father's vanity to dwell upon this 
 event, which he chose to consider as in the near future. 
 
 ' I've been telling Topham ' — (Topham was the 
 coachman) — he said one day, ' that it's time he put up
 
 ATTEMPTS TO MANUFACTURE A SILK PURSE 289 
 
 a hurdle or two in tlie paddock and saw you take 
 Hussar over them — do you more good than anything, 
 you know, a few falls will. But Topham thinks we'd 
 better wait till the ground's a bit softer again. This 
 hard, dry spell can't last long, unless IVe forgotten 
 what an English May is like.' 
 
 Allen was relieved at any postponement, and as his 
 father was much occupied soon after with business affairs 
 and Topham by no means cared to be responsible for his 
 young master's safety across hurdles, the matter was 
 allowed to drop. One morning, when the stable-boy 
 brought round the horses as usual, and Allen stood on 
 the steps waiting for his father, Chadwick called to him 
 from the window of his study. 
 
 ' I can't go out this morning, my boy, too much to 
 attend to, so you must manage on Hussar alone for 
 to-dav.' 
 
 ' Mayn't I have Topham, or the boy, to go with 
 me?' 
 
 ' No, you mayn't ; your mother wants the carriage 
 after lunch, and the boy's got his own work. You must 
 learn to get on by yourself ; gives you confidence. There, 
 tumble up, and be off — you'll be all right.' 
 
 Allen did not dare to protest : he mounted, and 
 Hussar went off down the drive with one or two puzzled 
 glances behind for the cob, which he seemed to miss. 
 
 Of course the horse was not long in realising the 
 situation, and in taking advantage of it. He swung 
 leisurely along, with an offensive assumption of not 
 being obliged to hurry ; he stopped and looked over 
 
 VOL. I. U
 
 290 THE PARIAH 
 
 gates with new-born interest in scenery, and showed an 
 eccentric preference for the side-path ; he pricked his ears 
 in mock nervousness at every striking object in the road, 
 and broke into capricious trots or sidelong ambles ; it 
 was creditable to him that he did not do much more than 
 this, but, as it was, he gave Allen quite enough trouble. 
 It was a WMiin day, and he felt helpless and hot and 
 miserable, at the mercy of this headstrong beast. But 
 for his fear of his father, he would gladly have turned his 
 head homeward ; but on he jogged jerkily over the road, 
 which steamed and glittered under a jSIay sun. He could 
 almost have wished himself back in the dingy city office 
 again, as he was that time last year ; but no, that was the 
 same as wishing that Margot and Lettice, and this new, 
 luxurious, strangely troubling existence could be blotted 
 out. He did not mean that, of course. He must keep 
 up his pluck ; Margot liked a chap to have a good pluck, 
 he wasn't going to own himself a coward before her ; 
 and he liit Hussar across the shoulders ami jcrki'd the 
 curb, which caused the animal to toss his head and snort 
 indiufnantlv. At that moment a farmer's cart turned 
 sharp round the corner with something jingling under 
 the seat, ami Hussar, his nerves really fretted at last, 
 broke into a canter which became a gallop, though not 
 at any time an absolute bolt. Fortunately he was not 
 difficult to sit at any pace, or poor Allen would soon have 
 beni ill the road ; but he had lost all control over him, 
 and was just giving himself up for lost, when the horse, 
 having had enough of it, slackened of his own accord, 
 until he returned to his former hdgoty walk.
 
 ATTEMPTS TO MANUFACTURE A SILK PURSE 291 
 
 Considerably exhausted and demoralised by all this, 
 Allen sat limply in his saddle with a dismal conviction 
 that with one more such escapade on Hussar's part they 
 would part company, and it would take little enough to 
 startle him now. He could not make up his mind to 
 dismount, especially as Hussar would not stand, and so 
 he went on under the branching elms, through whose 
 budding branches the sun struck in iridescent rays 
 which seemed to irritate Hussar still further. 
 
 Suddenly, at another turn of the road, he saw a 
 figure he knew approaching. 
 
 ' Bob,' he called, ' Bob Barchard ! ' 
 
 It was a young fellow about his own age, with sandy 
 hair and a freckled white face, with something at once 
 impudent and cunning in the small sunken e3'es. As 
 he heard himself called, he quickened his step and came 
 up. ' So, then, you are on yer cockhorse ! ' he said, with 
 a cool smile ; ' it's fine to be you ! ' 
 
 ' Is it?' said Allen, with an oath. ' I've had a nice 
 business of it with this beast, I can tell you, Bob ; he's 
 run away with me once.' 
 
 ' I thought it was queer-like, you stopping to speak 
 to such as me,' said Bob, ' youVe got among such fine 
 folk now — but that accounts for it. Fact is,' he said, 
 looking at the horse, ' you ain't up to managing a horse 
 like that ; he"s a beauty, he is, but you never ought to 
 come out alone on him. Why, Id make that horse go 
 as quiet ! ' 
 
 ' I wish you were on him instead of me, then,' said 
 Allen. ' Can you ride, Bob ? '
 
 292 THE PARIAH 
 
 * Me ride ? ' said Bob, ' wli y, I've rode since I was 
 that liif^li. They let me exercise the animals up at 
 Lane's farm when they're short of men — there ain't any- 
 thing I'd mind getting on ! ' 
 
 ' Would you like to try Hussar for a bit ? ' suggested 
 Allen, with a sudden desperate hope. Barchard laughed 
 in his fixce. ' We're uncommon good-natured this 
 morning,' he said, ' you're sure you can spare him ? 
 No, thank 'ee, I won't deprive you ! ' 
 
 ' Bob,' said Allen, ' this brute '11 have me off, I know 
 he will ! Do me a good turn, and lead him back till we 
 get near the village.' 
 
 ' Can't be bothered leading a horse,' said Bob ; ' it 
 was ride him just now, I thought.' 
 
 ' Ride him back, then — I can walk.' 
 
 Bob grinned. ' You've been flustering him a bit,' 
 he said, ' he'll take some riding, the way he is — likely he'll 
 try it on with me. Howsoever, 111 oblige you, if I risk 
 my own neck doing it. We were pals once ! ' 
 
 Bob's indifference had been only feigned ; he would 
 have given one of his fingers to be in the saddle on that 
 mettlesome hunter, and only his inbred shrewdness had 
 kept him from closing with the offer at once. He was 
 the son of a local decorator and plumber, a well-to-do 
 man who allowed him to do much as he liked, and Bob's 
 reputation in Gorsecombe and the surrounding villages 
 was none of the best. He was about Allen's age, but 
 the rustic youth was more than a match for the other in 
 knowledge of the world, and during the months in which 
 Allen had been left alone at Agra House, had managed
 
 ATTEMPTS TO MANUFACTURE A SILK PURSE 293 
 
 to make His acquaintance, and obtain a certain ascen- 
 dency over him. 
 
 And the next moment he was on Hussar, and Allen, 
 in whom an immense relief was struggling with a 
 certain shame, was walking along the road at his side. 
 ' Now, you see how he goes with me,' said young Bar- 
 chard ; ' I'll come back.' And, striking his heel against 
 Hussar's side, he cantered off. How easy it looked, 
 thought poor dismounted Allen ; why couldn't he make 
 the horse obey him like that ? For Bob had not exag- 
 gerated ; he had a fair seat, and firm if not very light 
 hands, which Hussar appreciated the more by contrast. 
 
 Presently he came back at a gallop, and reined up 
 with a lurking grin on his face. ' Here's a go,' he said : 
 ' I saw your father's carriage coming along — oh, they 
 ain't near yet. I thought I'd better give you the friendly 
 tip!' 
 
 Allen turned pale. ' Did they see you ? ' he said. 
 ' Here, Bob, I must get on again — there's no help for it.' 
 But Bob did not mean to yield possession just yet. 
 ' No time for that ! ' he said. ' We're about the same size 
 and colour, I reckon — chuck me that cap of yours and 
 take mine — quick ! they'll be round the bend — that's it ; 
 now you slip down by the bridge, and lay low till 
 they're by, and I'll trot on smart and turn my head 
 t'other way — ilie]\ won't notice ! ' 
 
 The road made a sharp bend to the left just there, 
 crossing a bridge over the railway ; to the right was a 
 lane as wide as the road, which sloped down to the level 
 of the line. Bob was off on Hussar as he spoke, and
 
 294 THE PARIAH 
 
 Allen bad no choice but to follow his advice ; he got 
 behind the brick parapet and waited witli a beating 
 heart. He was ashamed of his weakness ; and yet, as he 
 told himself sullenly, it w.is nil very well— was it his fault 
 that he cniild not manage the liorse ? Was he bound to 
 let his neck l)r broken, as it might have been, but for 
 Bob? Onlv what would be thoucjlit of him. if it was 
 known ? IVrhaps, even now, his step-mother was stop- 
 ping the carriage, misled by appearances ! What a 
 time the wheels were in coming! — at last, that was the 
 carriage ! and from the upper level he heard the trot of 
 horses and the soft splutter of wheels on the muddy road 
 pass and die away in the distance towards Closeborongh 
 — the danger was past ! 
 
 He came out and soon rejoined Barchard. ' All 
 right,' ho heard him slidut, 'I went by in a flash like, 
 and shoved the cap well down over my eyes — they 
 never spotted 'twarn't you, I'll go bail ! ' 
 
 And so they went on till they were near the gates. 
 ' I've taken the freshness out of him for you,' said the 
 disinterested Bob, 'you'll be equal to sitting him up the 
 drive. You'd never ha' got him home without you'd 
 met me. If you're going out this way again, you'd 
 better let me know.' 
 
 ' I shan't go out this way again, if I know it ! ' said 
 Allen, and he meant it. 
 
 'Whv,'sai(l liis Inllicr. as he met liim on Ins rc(m-ii, 
 'you ai-c late, old l)oy ! I began to think something 
 was fill' matter; l)ut (lion, I niiulit have known you 
 could be trusted to look after yourself. Why, you've
 
 A TTEMPTS TO MANUFACTURE A SILK PURSE 295 
 
 had a good hard ride, I can see. Famous ! Did you 
 meet the carriage ? Your mother had lunch early and 
 drove over to Closeborough.' 
 
 ' I know,' said Allen, ' they passed us.' 
 
 ' And you've had a good tittup, eh ? ' 
 
 ' Yes,' said the miserable Allen, ' I've had a good 
 tittup.' 
 
 If he could but have owned the real truth — but he 
 was afraid; next time his father would go out with 
 him, Hussar would behave better, he could never again 
 place himself in such a predicament; why should he 
 expose himself unnecessarily ? It was so easy to say 
 nothing, and make good resolutions for the future. 
 
 END OF THE FIRST VOLUME. 
 
 Sl'OrnsWuuDU AND CO., NEW-STKEET SSyDAEU 
 
 LU.N'UON
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY 
 
 Los Angeles 
 
 This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. 
 
 JUL 1 1 1956 
 
 JMil4\388 
 
 orm L9-25m-9,'47(A5618)44-l 
 
 THE LlbKAR^ 
 
 UNIVERSITY 0I< CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 o> 
 
 3 1158 01227 000 
 
 UC SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY 
 
 AA 000 369 736 4
 
 'm:i:'mm 
 
 : •• V^ * ' >