University of California • Berkeley 
 
 Gift of 
 THE HEARST CORPORATION 
 
Vi 
 
 
 Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 
 in 2008 with funding from 
 
 IVIicrosoft Corporation 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/fatherstaffordOOhoperich 
 
FATHER STAFFORD. 
 
FATHER STAFFORD. 
 
 BY 
 
 aj^thoi^y hope, 
 
 Author of " A Man of Bfarl:'^ 
 
 CASSELL & COMPANY, Limited: 
 
 LONDON, PARIS i' MELBOURNE. 
 
 1891. 
 [all rights reserved.] 
 
INDEX OF CHAPTERS. 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 I. Eugene Lane and his Guests ... 9 
 
 II. "N'ew Faces and Old Feuds .... 25 
 
 III. Some Changes of "Views .... 41 
 
 TV. Sir Roderick Atre Inspects Mr. More- 
 wood's Masterpiece 59 
 
 V. How Three Gentlemen Acted for the Best 75 
 
 VI. Father Stafford keeps Vigil ... 93 
 
 VII. An Early Train and a Morning's Amuse- 
 ment 107 
 
 VIII. Stafford in Retreat, and Sir Roderick in 
 
 Action 122 
 
 IX. The Battle of Baden 146 
 
 X. Mr. Morewood is moved to Indignation . 162 
 
 XL Waiting Lady Claudia's Pleasure . . 181 
 
 XII. Lady Claudia is Vexed with Mankind . 196 
 
viii INDEX OF CHAPTERS. 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 XIII. A Lover's Fate and a Friend's Counsel . 215 
 XIY. Some People are as Fortunate as they 
 
 DESERVE TO be ... . . 235 
 
 XY. An End and a Beginning .... 249 
 
^ 
 
 FATHER STAFFOPxD. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 EUGENE LANE AND HIS GUESTS. 
 
 The world considered Eugene Lane a very 
 fortunate young* man ; and if youth, health, 
 social reputation, a seat in Parliament, a large 
 income, and finally the promised hand of an 
 acknowledged beauty can make a man happy, 
 the world was right. It is true that Sir Roderick 
 Ayre had been heard to pity the poor chap on 
 the ground that his father had begun life in 
 the workhouse ; but everybody knew that Sir 
 Roderick was bound to exalt the claims of 
 birth, inasmuch as he had to rely solely upon 
 them for a reputation, and discounted the 
 value of his opinion accordingly. After all, it 
 was not as if the late Mr. Lane had ended life 
 in the undesirable shelter in question. On the 
 contrary, his latter days had been spent in the 
 handsome mansion of Millstead Manor ; and, 
 as he lay on his deathbed, listening to the 
 Rector's gentle homily on the vanity of riches, 
 his eyes could wander to the window and 
 survey a wide tract of land that he called his 
 
10 FATHER STAFFORD. 
 
 own, and left, together with immense sums of 
 money, to his son, subject only to a jointure 
 for his wife. It is hard to blame the tired old 
 man if he felt, even with the homily ringing 
 in his ears, that he had not played his part in 
 the world badly. 
 
 Millstead Manor was indeed the sort of 
 place to raise a doubt as to the utter vanity of 
 riches. It was situated hard by the little 
 village of Millstead, that lies some forty miles 
 or so north-west of London, in the middle of 
 rich country. The neighbourhood afforded 
 shooting, fishing, and hunting, if not the best 
 of their kind, yet good enough to satisfy 
 reasonable people. The park was large and 
 well wooded; the house had insisted on re- 
 maining picturesque in spite of Mr. Lane's 
 improvements, and by virtue of an indelible 
 stamp of antiquity had carried its point. A 
 house that dates from Elizabeth is not to be 
 entirely put to shame by one or two unblushing 
 French windows and other trifling barbarities 
 of that description, more especially when it is 
 kept in countenance by a little church of still 
 greater age, nestling under its wing in a 
 manner that recalled the good old days when 
 the lord of the manor was lord of the souls 
 and bodies of his tenants. Even old Mr. Lane 
 
EUGENE LANE AND HIS GUESTS. 11 
 
 had been mellowed by the influence of liis new 
 home, and before his death had come to play 
 the part of Squire far more respectably than 
 might be imagined. Eugene sustained the 7'dle 
 with the graceful indolence and careless effi- 
 ciency that marked most of his doings. 
 
 He stood one Saturday morning in the 
 latter part of July on the steps that led from 
 the terrace to the lawn, holding a letter in his 
 hand and softly whistling. In appearance he 
 was not, it must be admitted, an ideal Squire, for 
 he was but a trifle above middle height, rather 
 slight, and with the little stoop that tells of the- 
 man who is town-bred and by nature more given 
 to indoor than outdoor exercises ; but he was a 
 good-looking fellow for all that, with a bright 
 humorous face — though at this moment rather 
 a bored one — large eyes set well apart, and his 
 proper allowance of brown hair and white 
 teeth. Altogether, it may safely be said that 
 not even Sir Roderick's nose could have sniffed 
 the workhouse in the young master of Millstead 
 Manor. 
 
 Still whistling, Eugene descended the steps 
 and approached a group of people sitting under 
 a large copper-beech tree. A still hot summer 
 morning does not incline the mind or the body 
 to activity, and all of them had sunk into 
 
12 FATHER STAFFOBR 
 
 attitudes of ease. Mrs. Lane's work was 
 reposing in her lap ; her sister, Miss Jane 
 Chambers, had ceased the pretence of reading ; 
 the Rector was enjoying what he kept assuring 
 himself was only just five minutes' peace 
 before he crossed over to his parsonage and his 
 sermon; Lady Claudia Territon and Miss 
 Katharine Bernard were each in possession of 
 a wicker lounge, while at their feet lay two 
 young men in flannels, with lawn -tennis 
 racquets lying idle by them. A large jug of 
 beer close to the elbow of one of them com- 
 pleted the luxurious picture that was framed in 
 a light cloud of tobacco smoke, traceable to 
 the person who also was obviously responsible 
 for the beer. 
 
 As Eugene approached, a sudden thought 
 seemed to strike him. He stopped deliber- 
 ately, and with great care lit a cigar. 
 
 ^'Wliy wasn't I smoking, I wonder!" he 
 said. ^' The sight of Bob Territon reminded 
 me." Then, as he reached them, raising his 
 voice, he went on, 
 
 ^^ Ladies and gentlemen, I am sorry to 
 interrupt you, and with bad news." 
 
 ^' What is the matter, dear?" asked Mrs. 
 Lane, a gentle old lady, who having once had 
 the courage to leave the calm of her father's 
 
EUGENE LANE AND HIS GUESTS. 13 
 
 country vicarage to follow the doubtful for- 
 tunes of her husband, was now reaping her 
 reward in a luxury of which she had never 
 dreamt. 
 
 ^^ With the arrival of the 4.15 this after- 
 noon," Eugene continued, ^' our placid life will 
 be interrupted, and one of Mr. Eugene Lane, 
 M.P.'s, celebrated Saturday to Monday parties 
 (I quote from The Universe) will begin." 
 
 '^ Who's coming?" asked Miss Bernard. 
 
 Miss Bernard was the acknowledged beauty 
 referred to in the opening lines of this chapter, 
 whose love Eugene had been lucky enough to 
 secure. Had Eugene not been absurdly rich 
 himself he might have been congratulated 
 further on the prospective enjoyment of a nice 
 little fortune as well as the lady's favour. 
 
 '^ Is Rickmansworth coming ? " put in Lady 
 Claudia, before Eugene had time to reply to 
 his fiancee. 
 
 ^'Be at peace," he said, addressing Lady 
 Claudia; '^yoiu: brother is not coming. I 
 have known Rickmansworth a long while, and 
 I never knew him to be polite. He inquired 
 by telegram, reply not paid, who were to be 
 here. When I wired him, telling him whom I 
 had the privilege of entertaining, and requesting 
 an immediate reply (not paid), he answered 
 
14 FATHER STAFFORD. 
 
 that he thought I must have enough Territons 
 already, and he didn't want to make another." 
 
 Neither Lady Claudia nor her brother 
 Kobert, who was the young man with the beer, 
 seemed put out at this message. Indeed the 
 latter went so far as to say, 
 
 '^ Good ! Have some beer, Eugene ? " 
 
 ^'But who is coming?" repeated Miss Kate. 
 '^Really, Eugene, you might pay a little atten- 
 tion to me." 
 
 ^' Can't, my dear Kate — not in public. It's 
 not good form, is it. Lady Claudia ? " 
 
 '' Eugene," said Mrs. Lane, in a tone as 
 nearly severe as she ever arrived at, ^^if you 
 wish your guests to have either dinner or beds, 
 you will at once tell me who and how many 
 they are." 
 
 " My dear mother, they are in number five, 
 composed as follows. First, the Bishop of 
 Bellminster." 
 
 ^^A most interesting man," observed Miss 
 Chambers. 
 
 ^' I am glad to hear it, Aunt Jane," re- 
 sponded Eugene. ^' The Bishop is accom- 
 panied by his wife. That makes two. And 
 then old Mertonj who was at the Colonial 
 Office, you know, and Morewood the painter 
 make four." 
 
EUGENE LANE AND HIS GUESTS. 15 
 
 ^'Sir George Merton is a Radical, isn't he?" 
 asked Lady Claudia severely. 
 
 ^' He tries to be," said Eugene. ^^ Shall I 
 order a carriage to take you to the station ? I 
 think, you know, you can stand it, with Had- 
 dington's help." 
 
 Mr. Spencer Haddington, the other young 
 man in flannels, was a very rising member of 
 the Conservative party, of which Lady Claudia 
 conceived herself to be a pillar. Identity of 
 political views, in Mr. Haddington's opinion, 
 might well pave the way to a closer union, and 
 this hope accounted for his having consented 
 to pair with Eugene, who sat on the other side, 
 and spend the last week in idleness at Millstead. 
 
 ^^Well," said Mr. Robert Territon, ^4t 
 sounds slow, old man." 
 
 ^'Candid family, the Territons," remarked 
 Eugene to the copper-beech. 
 
 ^^ Who's the fifth ? you've only told us four," 
 said Kate, who always stuck to the point. 
 
 ^^ The fifth is " Eugene paused a 
 
 moment, as though preparing a sensation ; 
 '' the fifth is— Father Stafford." 
 
 Now it was a remarkable thing that all the 
 ladies looked up quickly and re-echoed the 
 name of the last guest in accents of awe, 
 whereas the men seemed unaffected. 
 
16 FATHER STAFFORD. 
 
 ^^Whj, where did you pick km up?" 
 asked Lady Claudia. 
 
 '' Pick him up ! I've known Charley Staf- 
 ford since we were both that high. We were 
 at Harrow and at Oxford together. Rickmans- 
 worth knows him, Bob. You didn't come till 
 he'd left." 
 
 ^^ Why is the gentleman called ' Father ' ? " 
 said Bob. 
 
 ^'Because he is a priest," Miss Chambers 
 answered. ^^ And really, Mr. Territon, you're 
 very ignorant. Everybody knows Father 
 Stafford. You do, Mr. Haddington ? " 
 
 ^^ Yes," said Haddington, '^I've heard of 
 him. He's an Anglican Father, isn't he ? Had 
 a big parish somewhere down the Mile End 
 Eoad?" 
 
 '' Yes," said Eugene. ^^ He's an old and a 
 great friend of mine. He's quite knocked ujd, 
 poor old chap, and had to get leave of absence ; 
 and I've made him promise to come and stay 
 here for a good part of the time, to rest." 
 
 ^' Then he's not going off again on Mon- 
 day ? " asked Mrs. Lane. 
 
 '^ Oh, I hojDO not. He's writing a book or 
 something, that will keep him from being 
 restless." 
 
 ^^ How charming!" said Lady Claudia. 
 
EUGENE LANE AND HIS GUESTS. 17 
 
 ^^ Don't you dote on him, Kate? Please, Mr. 
 Lane, may I stay too ? " 
 
 ^'By the way," said Eugene, ^' Stafford has 
 taken a vow of celibacy." 
 
 ^^I knew that," said Lady Claudia imper- 
 turbably. 
 
 Eugene looked mournful ; Bob Territon 
 groaned tragically; but Lady Claudia was 
 quite unmoved, and, turning to the Rector, who 
 sat smiling benevolently on the young people, 
 asked, 
 
 '^ Do you know Father Stafford, Dr. 
 Dennis ? " 
 
 ^^No. I should be much interested in 
 meeting him. I've heard so much of his work 
 and his preaching." 
 
 ^^ Yes," said Lady Claudia, ^' and his pen- 
 ances and fasting, and so on." 
 
 '' Poor old Stafford ! " said Eugene. '' It's 
 quite enough for him that a thing's pleasant to 
 make it wrong." 
 
 '' Not your philosophy. Master Eugene ! " 
 said the Rector. 
 
 " No, Doctor." 
 
 '^ But what's this vow ? " asked Kate. 
 
 '^ There's no such thing as a binding vow 
 of celibacy in the Anglican Church," announced 
 Miss Chambers. 
 
 B 
 
18 FATHER STAFFORD. 
 
 ^^ Is that right, Doctor?" said Lady 
 Claudia. 
 
 '' God bless me, my dear," said the Rector, 
 ^' I don't know. There wasn't in my time." 
 
 ^^But, Eugene, surely I'm right," persisted 
 Aunt Jane. ^^His Bishop can dispense him 
 from it, can't he ? " 
 
 ^' Don't know," answered Eugene. '' He 
 says he can." 
 
 '^ Who says he can ?" 
 
 ^'Why, the Bishop!" 
 
 '' Well then, of course he can." 
 
 ^^All right," said Eugene; ^'only Stafford 
 doesn't think so. Not that he wants to be re- 
 leased. He doesn't care a bit about women — 
 very ungratefully, as they're all mad about him." 
 
 '' That's very rude, Eugene," said Kate in 
 reproving tones. "Admiration for a saint is 
 not madness. Shall we go in, Claudia, and 
 leave these men to pipes and beer ? " 
 
 ^^ One for you. Rector!" chuckled Bob 
 Territon, who knew no reverence. 
 
 The two girls departed somewhat scornfully, 
 arm-in-arm, and the Rector too rose with a 
 sigh, and accompanied the elder ladies to the 
 house, whither they were going to meet the 
 pony carriage that stood at the hall door. A 
 daily drive was part of Mrs. Lane's ritual. 
 
EUGENE LANE AND HIS GUESTS. 19 
 
 ^^By the way, you fellows," Eugene re- 
 sumed, throwing himself on the grass, '' I may 
 as well mention that Stafford doesn't drink, or 
 eat meat, or smoke, or play cards, or anything 
 else." 
 
 '' What a peculiar beggar ! " said Bob. 
 
 ^^Yes, and he's peculiar in another way," 
 said Eugene a little drily; ''he particularly 
 objects to any remark being made on his habits 
 — I mean on what he eats and drinks and 
 so on." 
 
 ''There I agree," said Bob; "I object to 
 any remarks on what I eat and drink ; " and he 
 took a long pull at the beer. 
 
 " You must treat him with respect, young 
 man. Haddington, I know, will study him as 
 a phenomenon. I can't protect him . against 
 that." 
 
 Mr. Haddington smiled and remarked that 
 such revivals of medi^evalism were interesting, 
 if morbid ; and having so delivered himself, he 
 too went his way. 
 
 " That chap's considered very clever, isn't 
 he ? " asked Bob of his host, indicating Had- 
 dington's retreating figure. 
 
 "Very, I believe," said Eugene. "He's a 
 cuckoo, you see." 
 
 " Dashed if I do," said Bob. 
 B 2 
 
20 FATHER STAFFORD. 
 
 ''He steals other birds' nests — eggs and 
 all." 
 
 ^'Your natural history is a trifle mixed, 
 old fellow ; kindly explain." 
 
 '^Well, he is a thief of ideas. Never was 
 the father of one himself, and gets his living 
 by kidnapping." 
 
 ^' I never knew such a chap!" ejaculated 
 Bob helplessly. '' Why can't you say plainly 
 that you think he's an ass ? " 
 
 '' I don't," said Eugene. '' He's by no 
 means an ass. He's a very clever fellow. But 
 he lives on other men's ideas I " 
 
 '' Oh ! Come and play billiards." 
 
 ''I can't," said Eugene gravely. '^ I'm 
 going to read poetry to Kate." 
 
 " By Jove, does she make you do that ? " 
 
 Eugene nodded sadly, and Bob went off 
 into a fit of obtrusive chuckling. Eugene cast 
 a large cushion dexterously at liim and caught 
 him just in the mouth, and, still sadly, rose 
 and went in search of his lady-love. 
 
 ^'Why the dickens does he marry that 
 girl?" exclaimed Bob. ^^It beats me." 
 
 Bob Territon was not the only person in 
 whom Eugene's engagement to Kate Bernard 
 inspired some surprise. But neither he nor 
 anyone else succeeded in formulating very 
 
EUGENE LAKE AND HIS GUESTS. 21 
 
 definite reasons for the feeling. Kate was a 
 beauty, and a beauty of a type undeniably 
 orthodox and almost aristocratic. She was tall 
 and slight, her nose was the least trifle arched, 
 her fingers tapered, and so, it was believed, 
 did her feet. Her liair was golden, her mouth 
 was small, and her accomplishments consider- 
 able. From her childhood she had been con- 
 sidered clever, and had vindicated her reputa- 
 tion by gaining more than one certificate from 
 the various examining bodies which nowadays 
 go up and down seeking whom they may 
 devour. All these varied excellences Eugene 
 had had full opportunities of ajDpreciating, for 
 Kate was a distant cousin of his on the 
 mother's side, and had spent a large part of 
 the last few years at the Manor. It was, in 
 fact, so obviously the duty of the two young 
 people to fall in love with one another, that 
 the surprise exhibited by their friends could 
 only have been based on a somewhat cynical 
 view of humanity. The cynics ought to have 
 considered themselves confuted by the fait 
 accomplij but they refused to do so, and, led by 
 Sir Roderick Ayre, had been known to descend 
 to laying five to four against the permanency 
 of the engagement — an obviously coarse and 
 improper proceeding. 
 
22 FATHER STAFFORD. 
 
 It is possible that the odds might have risen 
 a point or two, had these reprehensible persons 
 been present at a little scene which occurred 
 on the terrace, whither the girls had betaken 
 themselves and Eugene in his turn repaired 
 when he had armed himself with Tennyson. 
 As he approached Claudia rose to go and leave 
 the lovers to themselves. 
 
 " Don't go, Lady Claudia," said Eugene. 
 " I'm not going to read anything you ought 
 not to hear." 
 
 Of course it was the right thing for Claudia 
 to go, and she knew it. But she was a mis- 
 chievous body, and the sight of a cloud on 
 Kate's brow had upon her exactly the opposite 
 effect to what it ought to have had. 
 
 ''You don't really want me to stay, do 
 you? Wouldn't you two rather be alone?" 
 she asked. 
 
 '' Much rather have you," Eugene answered. 
 
 Kate rose with dignity. 
 
 " We need not discuss that," she said. '' I 
 have letters to write, and am going indoors." 
 
 " Oh, I say, Kate, don't do that. I came 
 out on purpose to read to you." 
 
 "Lady Claudia is quite ready to make an 
 audience for you," was the chilling re]3ly, as 
 Kate vanished through the open door. 
 
EUGENE LANE AND HIS GUESTS. 23 
 
 ^' There, you've done it now! " said Eugene. 
 ^^ You really ought not to insist on staying." 
 
 ^' I'm so sorry, Mr. Lane. But it's all your 
 fault." And Claudia tried to make her face 
 assume a look of gravity. 
 
 A j)ause ensued, and then tlie}^ both 
 smiled. 
 
 '^ What were you going to read?" asked 
 Claudia. 
 
 '' Oh, Tennyson — always read Tennyson. 
 Kate likes it, because she thinks it's simple." 
 
 " You flatter yourself that you see the 
 deeper meaning ? " 
 
 Eugene smiled complacently. 
 
 " And you mean Kate doesn't? I'm glad 
 I'm not engaged to you, Mr. Lane, if that's the 
 kind of thing you say." 
 
 Eugene opened his mouth, shut it again, 
 and then said blandly, 
 
 '' So am I." 
 
 '' Thank you. You need not be afraid." 
 
 ^' If I were engaged to you I mightn't like 
 you so well." 
 
 A slight blush became visible on Claudia's 
 usually pale cheek. 
 
 Eugene looked away towards the horizon. 
 
 " I like the way quite pale peo2jle blush," 
 he said. 
 
24 FATHER STAFFORD. 
 
 iC 
 
 '' What do you want, Mr. Lane ? " 
 Ah ! I see you appreciate my character. 
 I want many things I can't have — a great 
 many." 
 
 ^^No doubt J " said Claudia, still blushing 
 under the mournful gaze which accompanied 
 these words. " Do you want anything you 
 can have ? " 
 
 ^^Yes! I want you to stay several more 
 weeks." 
 
 ^^I'm going to stay," said Claudia. 
 
 ^' How kind ! " exclaimed Eugene. 
 
 ^' Do you know why ? " 
 
 '^ My modesty forbids me to think." 
 
 ''I want to see a lot of Father Stafford! 
 Good-bye, Mr. Lane. I'll leave you to your 
 private and particular understanding of 
 Tennyson." 
 
 ^'Claudia!" 
 
 ''Hold your tongue," she whispered, in 
 tones of exasperation. ''It's very wicked 
 and very impertinent — and the library door's 
 open, and Kate's in there ! " 
 
 Eugene fell back in his chair with a 
 horrified look, and Claudia rushed into the 
 house. 
 
25 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 NEW FACES AND OLD FEUDS. 
 
 There was, no doubt, some excuse for the 
 interest that the ladies at Millstead Manor had 
 betrayed on hearing the name of Father 
 Stafford. In these days, when the discussion 
 of theological topics has emerged from the 
 study into the street, ther^ to jostle persons 
 engaged in tlieir lawful business, a man who 
 makes for himself a position as a j^rominent 
 champion of any view becomes to a consider- 
 able extent a public character ; and Charles 
 Stafford's career had excited much notice. 
 Although still a young man but little past 
 thirty, he was adored by a powerful body of 
 followers, and received the even greater com- 
 pliment of hearty detestation from all, both 
 within and without the Church, to whom his 
 views seemed dangerous and pernicious. He 
 had administered a large parish with distinction ; 
 he had written a treatise of profound j^atristic 
 learning and uncompromising sacerdotal pre- 
 tensions. He had defended the institution of 
 a celibate priesthood, and was known to have 
 treated the Reformation with even less respect 
 than it has been of late accustomed to receive. 
 
26 FATHER STAFFOBI). 
 
 He had done more than all this : he had 
 impressed all who met him with a character of 
 absolute devotion and disinterestedness, and 
 there were many who thought that a successor 
 to the saints might be found in Stafford, if 
 anywhere in this degenerate age. Yet though 
 he was, or was thought to be, all this, his 
 friends were yet loud in declaring — and ever 
 foremost among them Eugene Lane — that a 
 better, simpler, or more modest man did not 
 exist. For the weakness of humanity, it may 
 be added that Stafford's appearance gave him 
 fully the external aspect most suitable to the 
 part his mind urged him to play : for he was 
 tall and spare, his fine-cut face, clean-shaven, 
 displayed the penetrating eyes, prominent 
 nose, and large mobile mouth that the memory 
 associates with pictures of Italian prelates who 
 were also statesmen. These personal charac- 
 teristics, combined with his attitude on Church 
 matters, caused him to be familiarly known 
 among the flippant by the nickname of the Pope. 
 Eugene Lane stood upon his hearthrug, 
 conversing with the Bishop of Bellminster and 
 covertly regarding his betrothed out of the 
 corner of an apprehensive eye. They had not 
 met alone since the morning, and he was 
 naturally anxious to find out whether that 
 
NEW FACES AND OLD FEUDS. 27 
 
 unlucky ^^ Claudia" had been overheard. 
 Claudia herself was listening to the conversa- 
 tion of Mr. Morewood, the well-known artist ; 
 and Stafford, who had only arrived just before 
 dinner, was still Inisy in answering Mrs. Lane's 
 questions about his health. Sir George Merton 
 had failed at the last moment, '' like a Radical," 
 said Claudia. 
 
 ^'I am extremely interested in meeting 
 your friend Father Stafford," said the Bishop. 
 
 ''Well, he's a first-rate fellow," replied 
 Eugene. " I'm sure you'll like him." 
 
 " You young fellows call him the Pope, 
 don't you ? " asked his lordship, who was a 
 genial man. 
 
 " Yes. You don't mind, do you ? It's not 
 as if we called him the Archbishop of Canter- 
 bury, you know." 
 
 "I shouldn't consider even that very per- 
 sonal," said the Bishop, smiling. 
 
 Dinner was announced. Eugene gave the 
 Bishop's wife his arm, whispering to Claudia 
 as he passed, "Age before impudence"; and 
 that young lady found that she had fallen to 
 the lot of Stafford, whereat she was well 
 pleased. Kate was paired with Haddington, 
 and Mr. Morewood with Aunt Jane. The 
 Bishop, of course, escorted the hostess. 
 
28 FATHER STAFFOBD. 
 
 '' And who," said he, almost as soon as he 
 was comfortably settled to his soup, ^'is the 
 young lady sitting by our friend the Father — 
 the one, I mean, with dark hair, not Miss 
 Bernard ? I know her." 
 
 '^ That's Lady Claudia Territon," said Mrs. 
 Lane. ''Very pretty, isn't she? and really a 
 very good girl." 
 
 " Do you say ^ really,' because, unless you 
 did, I shouldn't believe it ? " he asked, with a 
 smile. 
 
 Mrs. Lane had been moved by this idea, 
 but not consciously and, a little distressed at 
 suspecting herself of an unkindness, entertained 
 the Bishop with an entirely fanciful catalogue 
 of Claudia's virtues, whicli, being overheard 
 by Bob Territon, who had no lady and was at 
 liberty to listen, occasioned him immense 
 entertainment. 
 
 Claudia, meanwhile, was drifting into a 
 state of some annoyance. Stafford was very 
 courteous and attentive, but he drank nothing 
 and apparently proposed to dine off dry bread. 
 When she began to question him about his 
 former parish, instead of showing the gratitude 
 that might be expected, he smiled a smile that 
 she found pleasure in describing as inscrutable, 
 and said, 
 
NEW FACES AND OLD FEUDS. 29 
 
 ^^ Please don't talk down to me, Lady 
 Claudia." 
 
 ^' I have been tang-lit/' responded Claudia 
 rather stiffly, '^to talk about subjects in which 
 my company is presumably interested." 
 
 Stafford looked at her with some surprise. 
 It must be admitted that he had become used 
 to more submission than Claudia seemed in- 
 clined to give him. 
 
 ^^ I beg your pardon. You are quite right. 
 Let us talk about it." 
 
 "No, I won't. We will talk about you. 
 You've been very ill, Father Stafford ? " 
 
 " A little knocked up." 
 
 "I don't wonder!" she said, with an irri- 
 tated glance at his plate, which was now 
 furnished with a potato. 
 
 He saw the glance. 
 
 " It wasn't that," he said; "that suits me 
 very well." 
 
 Claudia knew that a pretty girl may say 
 most things, so she said, 
 
 "I don't believe it. You're killing your- 
 self. Why don't you do as the Bishop does ? " 
 
 The Bishop, good man, was at this moment 
 drinking champagne. 
 
 "^Men have different ways of living," he 
 answered evasivel}^. 
 
30 FATHER STAFFORD. 
 
 ' ^ I tliink yours is a very bad way. Why 
 do you do it ? '' 
 
 *^ I'm sure you will forgive me if I decline 
 to discuss the question just now. I notice 
 you take a little wine. You probably would 
 not care to explain why." 
 
 '^ I take it because I like it." 
 
 '' And I don't take it because I like it." 
 
 Claudia had a feeling that she was being 
 snubbed, and her impression was confirmed 
 when Stafford, a moment afterwards, turned 
 to Kate Bernard, who sat on his left hand, 
 and was soon deep in reminiscences of old 
 visits to the Manor, with which Kate con- 
 trived to intermingle a little flattery that 
 Stafford recognised only to ignore. They 
 had known one another well in earlier days, 
 and Kate was immensely pleased at finding 
 her playfellow both famous and not forgetful. 
 
 Euo^ene looked on from his seat at the 
 foot of the table with silent wonder. Here 
 was a man who might and indeed ought to 
 talk to Claudia, and yet was devoting himself 
 to Kate. 
 
 ^' I suppose it's on the same principle that 
 he takes water instead of champagne," he 
 thouorht ; but the situation amused him, and 
 he darted at Claudia a look that conveyed 
 
NEW FACES AND OLD FEUDS. 31 
 
 to that young lady the urgent idea that she 
 was, as boys say, ''dared" to make Fatlier 
 Stafford talk to her. This was quite enough. 
 Helped by the unconscious alliance of Had- 
 dington, who thought Miss Bernard had let 
 him alone quite long enough, she seized her 
 opportunity, and said in the softest voice, 
 
 ''Father Stafford?" 
 
 Stafford turned his head, and found fixed 
 upon him a pair of large dark eyes, brimming 
 over with mingled contrition and admiration. 
 
 ^' I am so sorry — but — but I thought you 
 looked so ill." 
 
 Stafford was unpleasantly conscious of 
 being human. The triumph of wickedness is 
 a spectacle from which we may well avert our 
 eyes. Suffice it to say tliat a quarter of an 
 hour later Claudia returned Eugene's glance 
 with a look of triumph and scorn. 
 
 jVIeanwhile, trouble had arisen between the 
 Bishop and Mr. Morewood. Morewood was an 
 artist of great ability, originality, and skill ; 
 and if he had not attained the honours of the 
 Academy, it was perhaps more his own fault 
 than that of the exalted body in question, as 
 he always treated it with an ostentatious con- 
 tumely. After all, the Academy must be 
 allowed its feelings. Moreover, his opinions 
 
32 FATHER STAFFORD. 
 
 on many subjects were known to be extreme, 
 and he was not chary of displaying them. 
 He was sitting on Mrs. Lane's left, oj)posite 
 the Bishop, and the latter had started with his 
 hostess a discussion of the relation between 
 religion and art. All went harmoniously for a 
 time ; they agreed that religion had ceased to 
 inspire art, and that it was a very regrettable 
 thing ; and there, one would have thought, the 
 subject — not being anew one — might well have 
 been left. Suddenly, however, Mr. Morewood 
 br^ke in : 
 
 '' Religion has ceased to inspire art because 
 it has lost its own inspiration, and having so 
 ceased, it has lost its only use." 
 
 The Bishop w^as annoyed. A well-bred 
 man himself, lie disliked what seemed to him 
 ill-bred attacks on opinions which his position 
 proclaimed him to hold. 
 
 "" You cannot expect me to assent to either 
 of your propositions, Mr. Morewood," he said. 
 ^^ If I believed them, you know, I should not be 
 in the place I am." 
 
 ^' They're true, for all that," retorted More- 
 wood. ^' And what is it to be traced to ?" 
 
 '' I'm sure I don't know," said poor Mrs. 
 Lane. 
 
 '^ Why, to Established Churches, of course. 
 
NEW FACES AND OLD FEUDS. 33 
 
 As long as fancies and imaginary beings are 
 left free to each man to construct or destroy 
 as he will — or again, I may say, as long as 
 they are fluid — they subserve the pleasureable- 
 ness of life. But when you take in hand and 
 make a Church out of them, and all that, what 
 can you expect ? " 
 
 ^' I think you must be confusing the Church 
 with the Royal Academy," observed the Bishop, 
 with some acidity. 
 
 ^' There would be plenty of excuse for me 
 if I did," replied Morewood. ^^ There's no 
 truth and no zeal in either of them." 
 
 ^' If you please, we will not discuss the 
 truth. But as to the zeal, what do you say to 
 the example of it among us now ? " And the 
 Bishop, lowering his voice, indicated Stafford. 
 
 Morewood directed a glance at him. 
 
 '^ He's mad ! " he said briefly. 
 
 ^^I wish there were a few more with the 
 same mania about." 
 
 ^' You don't believe all he does ?" 
 
 '^ Perhaps I can't see all he does," said the 
 Bishop, with a touch of sadness. 
 How do you mean ? " 
 I have been longer in the cave, and per- 
 haps I have peered too much through cave- 
 spectacles." 
 
 
34 FATHER STAFFORD. 
 
 Morewood looked at liim for a moment. 
 
 ^' I'm Sony if I've been rude, Bishop," lie 
 said more quietly, ^' but a man must say what 
 he thinks." 
 
 " Not at all times," said the Bislioj^ ; and 
 he turned pointedly to Mrs. Lane, and began to 
 discuss indifferent matters. 
 
 Morewood looked round with a discontented 
 air. Miss Chambers was mortally angry with 
 him and had turned to Bob Territon, whom 
 she was trying to persuade to come to a bazaar 
 at Bellminster on the Monday. Bob was re- 
 calcitrant, and here too the atmosj^here be- 
 came a little disturbed. The only people 
 apparently content were Kate and Haddington 
 and Lady Claudia and Stafford. To the rest 
 it was a relief when Mrs. Lane gave the signal 
 to rise. 
 
 Matters improved however in the drawing- 
 room. The Bishop and Stafford were soon 
 deep in conversation, and Claudia, thus de- 
 prived of her former companion, condescended 
 to be very gracious to Mr. Morewood, in the 
 secret hope that that eccentric genius would 
 make her the talk of the studios next summer 
 by painting her portrait. Haddington and 
 Bob had vanished with cigars ; and Eugene, 
 looking round and seeing that all was peace. 
 
NEW FACES AND OLD FEUDS. So 
 
 said to himself in an access of dutifulness, 
 " Now for it ! " and crossed over to where Kate 
 sat, and invited her to accompany him into the 
 garden. 
 
 Kate acquiesced, but showed little other 
 sign of relaxing her attitude of lofty displea- 
 sure. She left Eugene to begin. 
 
 " I'm awfully sorry, Kate, if you were 
 vexed this morning." 
 
 Absolute silence. 
 
 ^' But, you see, as host here, I couldn't very 
 well turn out Lady Claudia." 
 
 ^'AVhy don't you say Claudia?" asked 
 Kate in sarcastic tones. 
 
 Eugene felt inclined to fly, but he recog- 
 nised that his only chance lay in pretending 
 innocence when he had it not. 
 
 '' Are we to quarrel about a trifle of that 
 sort?" he asked: ''a girl I've known like a 
 sister for the last ten years ! " 
 
 Kate smiled bitterly. 
 
 t/ 
 
 '' Do you really suppose that deceives me? 
 Of course I am not afraid of your falling in 
 love with Claudia ; but it's very bad taste to 
 have anything at all like flirtation Avith her." 
 
 '^ Quite right; it is. It shall not occur 
 again. Isn't that enough ? " 
 
 Kate, in spite of her confidence, was not 
 c 2 
 
36 FATHER STAFFORD. 
 
 anxious to drive Eugene with too tight a rein, 
 80, with a nearer approach to graciousness, she 
 allowed it to appear that it was enough. 
 
 '' Then come along," he said, passing his 
 arm round her waist, and running her briskly 
 along the terrace to a seat at the end, where 
 he deposited her. 
 
 '^ Really, Eugene, one would think you 
 were a schoolboy. Suppose any one had seen 
 us!" 
 
 ^'Some one did," said Eugene, composedly 
 lighting his cigar. 
 
 ''Who?" 
 
 " Haddington. He was sitting on the step 
 of the sun-dial, smoking." 
 
 " IIo?v annoying ! What's he doing there?" 
 
 " If you ask me, I expect he's waiting on 
 the chance of Lady Claudia coming out." 
 
 "I should think it very unlikely," said Kate, 
 with an impatient tap of her foot ; "and I wish 
 you wouldn't do such things." 
 
 Eugene smiled ; and having thus, as he 
 conceived, partly avenged himself, devoted the 
 next ten minutes to orthodox love-making, with 
 the warmth of which Kate had no reason to be 
 discontent. On the expiration of that time he 
 pleaded his obligations as a host, and they 
 returned to the house, Kate much mollified. 
 
NEW FACES AND OLD FEUDS. 37 
 
 Eugene with the peaceful but fatigued air that 
 tells of duty done. 
 
 Before going to bed, Stafford and Eugene 
 managed to get a few words together. Leav- 
 ing the other men — except the Bishop, who 
 was already at rest — in the billiard-room, they 
 strolled out together on to the terrace. 
 
 ^' Well, old man, how are you getting on ? " 
 asked Eugene. 
 
 '^ Capitally ! stronger every day in body 
 and happier in mind. I grumbled a great deal 
 when I first broke down, but now I'm not sure 
 a rest isn't good for me. You can stop and 
 have a look where you are going to." 
 
 '' And you think you can stand it ? " 
 
 '' Stand what, my dear fellow ? " 
 
 ^' Why, the life you lead — a life studiously 
 emptied of everything that makes life plea- 
 sant." 
 
 ^^Ah! you are like Lady Claudia!" said 
 Stafford smiling. "I can tell you, though, 
 what I can hardly tell her. There are some 
 men who can make no terms with the body. 
 Does that sound very mediaeval ? I mean men 
 who, unless they are to yield utterly to ^jlea- 
 sure, must have no dealings with it." 
 
 ^' You boycott pleasure for fear of being too 
 fond of it ? " 
 
38 FATHER STAFFORD. 
 
 Yes ; I don't lay down that rule for 
 everybody. For me it is the right and only 
 
 one." 
 
 'You think it right for a good many people 
 
 though ? " 
 
 ' AYell, you know, the many-headed beast 
 
 5? 
 
 is strong 
 
 ''Forme?" 
 
 " Wait till I get at you from the pulpit." 
 
 "No; tell me now." 
 
 "Honestly?" 
 
 " Of course ; I take that for granted." 
 
 "Well then, old fellow," said he, laying a 
 hand on Eugene's arm, with a slight gesture of 
 caress not unusual with him, " in candour and 
 without unkindness, yes ! " 
 
 " I could never do it," said Eugene. 
 
 " Perhaps not — or, at least, not yet." 
 
 " Too late or too early, is it ? " 
 
 " It may be so, but I will not say so." 
 
 " You know I think you're all wrong?" 
 
 " I know." 
 
 " You will fail." 
 
 " God forbid ! but if He pleases " 
 
 " After all, what are meat, wine, and — and 
 so on for ? " 
 
 " That argument is beneath you, Eugene." 
 
 "So it is. I beg your pardon. I might 
 
NEW FACES AND OLD FEUDS. 39 
 
 as well ask what the hano-man is for if noboclv 
 is to be hanged. However, I'm determined 
 that you shall enjoy yom'self for a week here, 
 whether you like it or not." 
 
 Stafford smiled gently and bade him good- 
 night. A moment later Bob Territon emerged 
 from the open windows of the billiard-room. 
 
 ^' Of all dull dogs, Haddington's the worst ; 
 however, I've won five pound of him I Hist ! 
 Is the Father here ? " 
 
 ^' I am glad to say he is not." 
 
 ^' Oh ! Have you squared it with Miss 
 Kate ? I saw something was up." 
 
 '' Miss Bernard's heart. Bob, and mine again 
 beat as one." 
 
 ^' What was it particularly about ?" 
 
 ^' An immaterial matter." 
 
 '' I say, did you see the Father and 
 Claudia?" 
 
 '' No. What do you mean ? " 
 
 ^'Gammon! I tell you what, Eugene, if 
 Claudia really puts her back into it, I wouldn't 
 give much for that vow of celibacy." 
 
 ''Bob," said Eugene, ''you don't know 
 Stafford ; and your expression about your 
 sister is — well, shall I say lacking in refine- 
 ment ? " 
 
 " Haddington didn't like it." 
 
40 FATHER STAFFORD. 
 
 '' Damn Haddington, and you too ! " said 
 Eugene impatiently, walking away. 
 
 Bob looked after him with a chuckle, and 
 exclaimed enigmatically to the silent air, '' Six 
 to four, t. and o.'' 
 
41 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 SOME CHANGES OF VIEWS. 
 
 For sheer placid enjoyment and pleasantness 
 of living there is nothing like a sojourn in a 
 well-appointed country house, peopled by well- 
 assorted guests. The guests at Millstead 
 Manor were not perhaps particularly well- 
 assorted ; but nevertheless the hours passed 
 by in a round of quiet delights, and the long 
 summer days seemed in no wise tedious. The 
 Bishop and Mrs. Bartlett had reluctantly gone 
 to open the bazaar and Miss Chambers went 
 with them, but otherwise tlie party was un- 
 changed ; for Morewood, who had come origin- 
 ally only for the two days, had begged leave to 
 stay, received it on condition of showing due 
 respect to everybody's prejudices, telegraphed 
 for his materials, and was fitfully busy making 
 sketches, not of Lady Claudia, to her undis- 
 guised annoyance, but of Stafford, with whose 
 face he had been wonderfully struck. Stafford 
 himself was the only one of the party, besides 
 his artistic tormentor, who had not abandoned 
 himself to the charms of idleness. His great 
 work was understood to make rajDid progress 
 
42 FATHER STAFFORD. 
 
 between six in the morning, when he always 
 rose, and half-past nine, when the party 
 assembled at breakfast ; and he was also busy 
 in writing a reply to a daring person who had 
 recently asserted in print that on the whole the 
 less said about the Council of Chalcedon the 
 better. 
 
 '' The Pope's wild about it ! " reported Bob 
 Territon to the usual after-breakfast group on 
 the lawn : '^ says the beggar's impudence licks 
 him." 
 
 ^^ He shall not work any more ! " exclaimed 
 Claudia darting into the house, w^lience she 
 presently emerged, followed by Stafford, who 
 resignedly sat himself down with them. 
 
 Such forcible interruptions of his studies 
 Avere by no means uncommon. Eugene how- 
 ever, who was of an observant turn, noticed — 
 and wondered if others did — that the raids on 
 his seclusion were much more apt to be success- 
 ful when Claudia headed them than under other 
 auspices. The fact troubled him, not only 
 from certain unworthy feelings which he did 
 his best to suppress, but also because he saw 
 nothing but harm to be possible from any close 
 7xipp7'ochement between Claudia and Stafford. 
 Kate, on the contrary, seemed to him to have 
 set herself the task of throwing them together : 
 
SOME CHANGES OF VIEWS. 43 
 
 with what motive he conlcl not understand, 
 unless it were the recollection of his ill-fated 
 '' Claudia." He did not think this explanation 
 very convincing, for he was well aware that 
 Kate's scorn of Claudia's attractions, as com- 
 pared with her own, was perfectly genuine, 
 and such a state of mind would not produce 
 the certainly active efforts she put forth. In 
 truth, Eugene, though naturally observant, 
 was, like all men, a little blind where he himself 
 was concerned ; and perhaj)s a shrewd spectator 
 would have connected Haddington in some 
 way with Miss Kate's manoeuvres. Such, at 
 any rate, was the view of Bob Territon, and 
 no doubt he would have expressed it with his 
 usual frankness if he had not had his own 
 reasons for keeping silence. 
 
 Stafford's state of mind was somewhat 
 peculiar. A student from his youth, to whom 
 invisible things had always seemed more real 
 than visible and hours of solitude better filled 
 than busy days, he had had but little experience 
 of that sort of humanity among which he found 
 himself. A man may administer a cure of souls 
 with marked efficiency in the Mile End Eoad, 
 and yet find himself much at a loss when con- 
 fronted with the latest products of the West 
 End. The renunciation of the world, except 
 
44 FATHER STAFFORD. 
 
 SO far as he could aid in mending it, had 
 seemed an easy and cheap price to pay for the , 
 guerdon he strove for to one who had never 
 seen how pleasant this wicked world can look 
 in certain of its aspects. Hitherto, at school, 
 at college, and afterwards, he had resolutely 
 turned away from all opportunities of enlarging 
 his experience in this direction. He had 
 shunned society, and had taken great pains 
 to restrict his acquaintance with the many 
 devout ladies who had sought him out to 
 the barest essentials of what ought to have 
 been, if it was not always, their purpose in 
 seeking him. The prince of this world was 
 now preparing a more subtle attack ; and under 
 the seeming compulsion of common prudence 
 no less than of old friendship, he found 
 himself flung into the very centre of the sort 
 of life he had with such pains avoided. It 
 may be doubted whether he was not, like an 
 unskilful swimmer, ignorant of his danger ; 
 but it is certain that, had he been able to 
 search out his own heart with his former 
 acuteness of self -judgment, he would have 
 found the first germs of inclinations and 
 feelings to which he had been up till now a 
 stranger. He would have discovered the birth 
 of a new longing for pleasure, a growing 
 
SOME CHANGES OF VIEWS. 45 
 
 delight in the sensuous side of things ; or 
 rather, he would have become convinced that 
 temptations of this sort, which had previously 
 been in the main creatures of his own brain, 
 postulated in obedience to the doctrines and 
 literature in which he had been bred, had 
 become self-assertive realities : and that what 
 had been set up only to be triumphantly 
 knocked down had now taken a strong root 
 of its own, and refused to be displaced by 
 spiritual exercises or physical mortifications. 
 Had he been able to pursue the analysis yet 
 further, it may be that even in these days he 
 would have found that the forces of this world 
 were already beginning to personify them- 
 selves for him in the attractive figure of 
 Claudia Territon. As it was ho\\ever this 
 discovery was yet far from him. 
 
 The function of passing a moral judgment 
 on Claudia's conduct at this juncture is one 
 that the historian respectfully declines. It is 
 easy to blame fair damsels for recklessness 
 in the use of their dangerous weapons ; and if 
 they take the censure to heart — which is not 
 usually the case — easy again to charge them 
 with self-consciousness or self-conceit. We do 
 not know their temptations and may not 
 presume to judge them. And it may well be 
 
46 FATHER STAFFORD. 
 
 thought that Claudia would have been guilty 
 of an excessive appreciation of herself had her 
 conduct been influenced by the thought that 
 such a man as Stafford was likely to fall in 
 love with her. Of the conscious design of 
 attracting him she must be acquitted, for she 
 acted under the force of a strong attraction 
 exercised by him. Her mind was not entirely 
 engrossed in the pleasures and what she 
 imagined to be the duties of her station. She 
 had a considerable, if untrained and erratic, 
 instinct towards religion, and exhibited that 
 leaning towards the mysterious and visionary 
 which is the common mark of an acute mind 
 that has not been presented with any methodi- 
 cal course of training worthy of its abilities. 
 Such a temperament could not fail to be 
 powerfully influenced by StafPord ; and when 
 an obvious and creditable explanation lies on 
 the surface, it is an ungracious task to probe 
 deeper in the hope of coming to something less 
 praiseworthy. Claudia herself certainly under- 
 took no such research. It was not her habit to 
 analyse her motives ; and, if asked the reasons 
 of her conduct, would no doubt have replied 
 that she sought Stafford because she liked him. 
 Perhaps, if further pressed, she would have 
 admitted that she found him occasionally a use- 
 
SOME CHANGES OF VIEWS. 47 
 
 fill refuge against attentions from two other 
 quarters which she found it necessary to avoid : 
 in the one case because she would have liked 
 them, in the other for exactly the opposite 
 reason. 
 
 It cannot however be supposed that this 
 latter line of diplomacy could be permanently 
 successful. When you only meet your suitor at 
 dances or operas, it may be no hard task to be 
 always surrounded by a clievaux-de-frise of 
 other admirers. We have all seen that manoeu- 
 vre brilliantly and jDatiently executed. But 
 when you are staying in a country house with 
 any man of average ^pertinacity, I make bold 
 to say that nothing short of taking to bed can 
 be permanently relied upon. If this is the case 
 with the ordinary man, how much more does it 
 hold good when the assailant is one like 
 Haddington — a man of considerable address, 
 unbounded persistence, and limitless com- 
 placency ? There came a time when Claudia's 
 forced marches failed her, and she had to turn 
 and give battle. When the moment came she 
 was prepared with an audacious plan of cam- 
 paign. 
 
 She had walked down to the village one 
 morning, attended by Haddington and pro- 
 tected by Bob, to buy for Mrs. Lane a fresh 
 
48 FATHER STAFFORD. 
 
 supply of worsted wool, a commodity apparently 
 necessary to sustain that lady's life, and was 
 returning at peace, when Bob suddenly 
 exclaimed, 
 
 '* By Jove ! Tobacco ! Wait for me ! '' and, 
 turning, fled back whence he came at full 
 speed. 
 
 Claudia made an attempt at following him, 
 but the weather was hot and the road dusty, 
 and, confronted with the alternative of a tete-a- 
 tete and a damaged personal appearance, she 
 reluctantly chose the former. 
 
 Haddington did not let the grass grow 
 under his feet. ^' Well," he said, '•'- it won't be 
 unpleasant to rest a little while, will it ? Here's 
 a dry bank." 
 
 Claudia never wasted time in dodging the 
 inevitable. She sat down. 
 
 ^' I am very glad of this opportunity," 
 Haddington began, in such a tone as a man 
 might use if he had just succeeded in moving 
 the adjournment. ^' It's curious how little I 
 have managed to see of you lately, Lady 
 Claudia." 
 
 '^ We meet at least ^mq times a day, Mr. 
 Haddington — breakfast, luncli, tea " 
 
 " I mean when you are alone." 
 
SOME CHANGES OF VIEWS. 49 
 
 ^^ And yet you must know my great — my 
 only object in being here is to see you.'' 
 
 '' The less I say the sooner it will be 
 over," thought Claudia, wliose experience was 
 considerable. 
 
 ^' You must have noticed my — my attach- 
 ment. I hope it was without displeasure ? " 
 
 This clearly called for an answer, but 
 Claudia gave none. She sighed slightly and 
 put up her parasol. 
 
 ^' Claudia, is there any hope for me ? I love 
 you more " 
 
 ^^ Mr. Haddington," said Claudia, '^ this is 
 a painful scene. I trust nothing in my con- 
 duct has misled you.'' (This was known — how 
 I do not know — to her brothers as '* Claudia's 
 formula," but it is believed not to be u.n- 
 common.) '' But what you pro^^ose is utterly 
 impossible." 
 
 ^' Why do you say that ? Perhaps you do 
 not know me well enouo-h vet — but in time, 
 surely ? " 
 
 ^'Mr. Haddington," said Claudia, ^^let me 
 speak plainly. Even if I loved you — which I 
 don't, and never shall ; for immense admiration 
 for a man's abilities is a different thing from 
 love — (Haddington looked somewhat soothed) 
 I could never consent to accept the j)osition of 
 
 D 
 
50 FATHER STAFFORD. 
 
 a pis-aller. That is not the Territon way." 
 And Lady Claudia looked very proud. 
 
 ^'A pis-aller I What in the world do you 
 mean ? " 
 
 ^' Girls are not supposed to see anything*. 
 But do you think I imagine you would ever 
 have honoured me in this way unless a greater 
 prize had been — had appeared to be out of 
 reach ? " 
 
 This was not fair ; but it was near enough 
 to the mark to make Haddington a little 
 uneasy. Had Kate been free, he would cer- 
 tainly have been in doubt. 
 
 '' I bear no malice about that/' she con- 
 tinued, smiling, ^^only you mustn't pretend 
 to be broken-hearted, you know." 
 
 ^^ It is a great blow to me — a great blow." 
 
 Claudia looked as if she would like to say 
 '' Fudge ! " but restrained herself and, with the 
 daring characteristic of her, placed her hand 
 on his arm. 
 
 ^'I am so sorry, Mr. Haddington. How it 
 must gall you to see their happiness ! I can 
 understand you turning to me as if in self- 
 protection. But you should not ask a lady to 
 marry you because you're piqued with another 
 lady. It isn't kind ; it isn't, indeed." 
 
 7? 
 
 Haddington was a little at a loss. 
 
SOME GRANGES OF VIEWS. 51 
 
 ^^ Indeed, you're wholly wrong, Lady 
 Claudia. Indeed, if you come to that, I 
 don't see that they are particularly rapturous." 
 
 ^'You don't mean you think they're 
 unhappy ? Mr. Haddington, I am so 
 grieved ! " 
 
 ^^ Do you mean to say you don't agree 
 with me ? " 
 
 '^ You mustn't ask me. But, oh ! I'm so 
 sorry you think so too. Isn't it strange ? So 
 suited to one another — she so beautiful, he so 
 clever, and both rich ! " 
 
 ^' Miss Bernard is hardly rich, is she? " 
 
 ^^ Not as Mr. Lane is, of com^se. She seems 
 rich to me — forty thousand pounds, I think. 
 Ah, Mr. Haddington, if only you had met her 
 sooner ! " 
 
 " 1 shouldn't have had much chance against 
 Lane." 
 
 ' ' Why do you say that ? If you only 
 knew " 
 
 ^^What?" 
 
 ^' I mustn't tell you. How sad that it's too 
 late ! " 
 
 ^^sit?" 
 
 ^^ Of course. ^horfrQ engaged !^^ 
 
 ^' An engagement isn't a marriage. If I 
 thought " 
 
52 FATHER STAFFOED. 
 
 ^' But I can't tliink of that now. Good-bye, 
 Claudia. We may not meet again." 
 
 '' Oh, you won't go away ? You mustn't 
 let me drive you away. Oh, jDlease, Mr. Had- 
 dington ! Think, if you go, it must all come 
 out ! I should be so very very distressed." 
 
 ^^ If you ask me, I will try to stay." 
 
 " Yes, yes, stay — but forget all this. And 
 never think again of the other — about them, I 
 mean. You will stav ? " 
 
 ^' Yes, I will stay," said Haddington. 
 
 ^' Unless it makes you too unhappy to see 
 Eugene's triumph in Kate's love ? " 
 
 ^^I don't believe much in tliat. If that's 
 the only thing — but I must go. I see your 
 brother coming up the hill." 
 
 ^' Yes, go — and I'll never tell that you tried 
 me as — as a second string ! " 
 
 ^^ That's very unjust!" he protested, but 
 more weakly. 
 
 '' No, it isn't. I know vour heart, and I do 
 pity you." 
 
 '^ Perhaj^s I shall not ask for j^ity. Lady 
 Claudia ! " 
 
 ^^ Oh, you mustn't think of that ! '' 
 
 ^^ It was you avIio j^ut it in my head." 
 
 >^ Oh, what liave I done?" 
 
SOME CHANGES OF VIEWS. 53 
 
 Haddington smiled, and witli a last squeeze 
 of her hand turned and walked away. 
 
 Claudia put her handkerchief into her 
 pocket and went to meet her brother. 
 
 Haddington returned alone to the house. 
 Although suffering under a natural feeling of 
 annoyance at discovering that he was not fore- 
 most in Claudia's heart, as he had led himself 
 to suppose, he was yet keenly alive to the fact 
 that the interview had its consolatory aspect. 
 In the first place, there is a fiction that a lady 
 who respects herself does not fall in love with 
 a man whom she suspects to be in love Avith 
 somebody else ; and Haddington's mind, 
 though of no mean order in some ways, 
 was not of a sort to rise above fictions. He 
 comforted his vanity with the thought that 
 Claudia had, by a conscious effort, checked a 
 nascent affection for him, which if alloAved 
 unimpeded growth would have developed into 
 a passion. Again, that astute young lady had 
 very accurately conjectured his state of mind, 
 while her pledge of secrecy disposed of the 
 difficulty in the way of a too rapid transfer of 
 his attentions. If Claudia did not complain, 
 nay, counselled such action, who had a right to 
 object ? It was true she had eagerly dis- 
 claimed any intention of inciting him to try to 
 
54 FATHER STAFFOIW. 
 
 break the ties that now bound Miss Bernard. 
 But, he reflected, the important point was not 
 the view she took of the morality of such an 
 attempt, on which her authority was nought, 
 but her opinion of its chances of success, which 
 was obviously not wholly unfavourable. He 
 did not trouble himself to inquire closely into 
 any personal motive she may have had. It 
 was enough for him that she, a person likely to 
 be well informed, had allowed him to see that, 
 to her thinking, the relations between the 
 engaged pair were of a character to inspire in 
 the mind of another aspirant hope rather than 
 despair. 
 
 Having reached this conclusion, Hadding- 
 ton recognised that his first step must be to 
 put Miss Bernard in touch with the position of 
 affairs. It may seem a delicate matter to hint 
 to your host's fiancee that if she, on mature 
 reflection, likes you better than him, there is 
 still time ; but Haddington was not afflicted 
 with delicacy. After all, in such a case a 
 great deal depends upon the lady, and Had- 
 dington, though doubtful how Kate would 
 regard a direct proposal to break off her 
 engagement, was yet tolerably confident that 
 she would not betray him to Eugene. 
 
 He found her seated on the terrace that 
 
SOME CHANGES OF VIEWS. 55 
 
 was the usual liaunt of the ladies in the fore- 
 noon and the scene of Eugene's dutiful 
 labours as reader-aloud. Kate was not look- 
 ing amiable ; and scarce six feet from her 
 there lay open on the ground a copy of the 
 Laureate's works. 
 
 " I liope I'm not disturbing you, Miss 
 Bernard ? " 
 
 " Oh no. You see, I am alone. Mr. Lane 
 was here just now, but he's gone," 
 
 ^^ How's that?" asked Haddington, seating 
 himself. 
 
 " He got a telegram, read it, flung his book 
 away, and rushed off.'' 
 
 " Did he say what it was about ? " 
 
 ^^No; I didn't a^k him." 
 
 A pause ensued. It was a little difficult to 
 make a start. 
 
 ^' And so you are alone ? " 
 
 ^' Yes, as you see." 
 
 "" I am alone too. Shall we console one 
 another ? " 
 
 "I don't want consolation, thanks," said 
 Kate, a little ungraciously. ^' But," she 
 added more kindly, ''you know I'm always 
 glad of your company." 
 
 *' I wish I could think so." 
 
 *' Why don't you think so.^^ " 
 
56 FATHER STAFFORD. 
 
 ^'Well, Miss Bernard, engaged people are 
 generally rather indifferent to the rest of the 
 world." 
 
 '' Even to telegrams ? " 
 
 '^ Ah I poor Lane ! " 
 
 ^'I don't think Mr. Lane is in much need 
 of pity." 
 
 ^'No — rather of envy." 
 
 Kate did not look displeased. 
 
 '' Still, a man is to be pitied if he does not 
 appreciate " 
 
 u 
 
 Mr. Haddinofton ! " 
 
 ^' I beg your pardon. I ought not to have 
 said that. But it is hard — there, I am offend- 
 ing you again I " 
 
 " Yes, you must not talk like that. It's 
 wrong ; it would be wrong even if you meant it." 
 
 ^' Do you think I don't mean it ? " 
 
 ^' That would be very discreditable — but 
 not so bad." 
 
 '' You know I mean it," he said, in a low 
 voice. ' ' God knows I would have said nothing: 
 
 if — " 
 
 ''If what?" 
 
 ^' I shall offend you more than ever. But 
 liow can I stand by and see that ? " and Had- 
 dington pointed with fine scorn to the neglected 
 book. 
 
SOME CHANGES OF VIEWS. 57 
 
 Kate was not agitated. She seldom was. 
 In a tone of grave rebuke, she said, 
 
 ''You must never speak like this again. I 
 thought I saw something of it. ("Good!" 
 thought Haddington.) But whatever may be 
 my lot, I am now bound to it. Pledges are 
 not to be broken." 
 
 "Are they not being virtually broken ? " he 
 asked, growing bolder as he saw she listened 
 to him. 
 
 Kate rose. 
 
 " You are not angry ? " 
 
 " I cannot be angry if it is as you say. 
 But please understand I cannot listen. It is 
 not honourable. No — don't say anything else. 
 But you must go away." 
 
 Haddington made no further effort to stoj) 
 her. He was well content. When a lady hears 
 you hint that her betrothed is less devoted than 
 you would be in his place and merely says the 
 giving of such a hint is wrong, it may be taken 
 that her sole objection to it is on the score of 
 morality; and it is to be feared that objections 
 based on this ground are not the most efficacious 
 in checking forward lovers. Perhaps Miss Ber- 
 nard thought they were. Haddington didn't 
 believe she did. 
 
 "Go away I " he said to himself. "Hardly! 
 
53 FATHER STAFFORD. 
 
 The play is just beginning. Little Lady 
 Claudia wasn't far out." 
 
 It is very possible she was not far out in 
 her estimation of Mr. Haddington's character, 
 as well as in her forecast of his prospects. But 
 the fruits of her shrewdness on this point 
 were hajopily hid from the gentleman con- 
 cerned. 
 
59 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 SIR RODERICK AYRE INSPECTS MR. MOREWOOd's 
 MASTERPIECE. 
 
 About a fortnight later than the last recorded 
 incident two men were smoking on the lawn at 
 Millstead Manor. One was Morewood; the 
 other had arrived only the day before and 
 was the Sir Roderick Ayre to whom reference 
 has been made. 
 
 "• Upon my word, Morewood," said Sir Rod- 
 erick, as the painter sat down by him, ^^one 
 can't go anywhere without meeting you ! '' 
 
 " That's since you took to intellectual com- 
 pany," said Morewood grinning. 
 
 '' I haven't taken to intellectual company," 
 said Sir Roderick with languid indignation. 
 '^ In the general upheaval, intellectual company 
 has risen in the scale." 
 
 **And so has at last come up to your 
 pinnacle ? " 
 
 ^^And so has reached me, where I have 
 been for centuries." 
 
 '^ A sort of perpetual dove on Ararat ? " 
 
 ^' My dear Morewood, I am told you know 
 everything except the Bible. Why choose your 
 allusions from the one unfamiliar source ? " 
 
60 FATHER STAFFORD. 
 
 ^^And how do you like your new neigh- 
 bour ? " 
 
 ^' What new neighbour ? " 
 
 'intellect." 
 
 '^ Oh well, as personified in you, it's a not 
 unwholesome astringent. But we may take an 
 overdose." 
 
 ^'Depends on the capacity of the consti- 
 tution, of course," said Morewood. 
 
 '' One objectionable quality it has," pur- 
 sued Sir Roderick, apparently unheedful. 
 
 ^^Yes?" 
 
 ^'A disposition towards what boys call 
 ^scoring.' That will, no doubt, be eradicated 
 as it mixes more in society. Apropos^ what 
 are you doing down here ? " 
 
 '^ As an artist, I study your insolence pro- 
 fessionally, Ayre, and it doesn't annoy me. I 
 came down here to do nothing. I have stayed 
 to paint Stafford." 
 
 ' ' Ah ! Is Stafford then a professional saint ? " 
 
 '' He's an uncommon fine fellow. You're 
 not fit to black his boots." 
 
 ^' I am not fit to black anybody's boots," 
 responded Sir Roderick. '' It's the other way. 
 What's he doing down here ? " 
 
 ^' I don't know. . Says he's writing a book. 
 Do you know Lady Claudia well ? " 
 
MTt. MORE WOOD'S MASTERPIECE. 61 
 
 *'Yes. Known her sinco she was a 
 child." 
 
 ^' She seems uncommonly apj>reciative." 
 
 '^ Of Stafford?'^ 
 
 ^'Yes." 
 
 ^'Oh, well, it's her way. It always has 
 been the way of the Territons. They only 
 began, you know, about three hundred years 
 ago, and ever since '' 
 
 '^ Oh, I don't want their history — a lot of 
 scoundrels, no doubt, like all your old families. 
 Only — I say, A3^re, I should like to show you 
 a head of Stafford I've done." 
 
 '^ I won't buy it," said Sir Roderick with 
 affected trepidation. 
 
 '^ You. be damned ! " said Mo re wood 
 ^^ But I should like to hear what you think 
 of it." 
 
 ^^ What do he and the rest of them 
 think ? " 
 
 '' I haven't shown it to any one." 
 
 ^' Why not?" 
 
 ^' Wait till you've seen it." 
 
 '' 1 should think Stafford would make rather 
 a good head. He's got just that " 
 
 ^' Hush ! Here he comes ! " 
 
 As he spoke, Stafford and Claudia came up 
 the drive and emerged on to the lawn. They 
 
62 FATHER STAFFORD. 
 
 did not see the others and appeared to be deep 
 in conversation. Stafford was talking vehe- 
 mently and Claudia listening with a look of 
 amused mutiny on her face. 
 
 ^' He's sworn off, hasn't he?'' asked Ayre. 
 
 '^Yes." 
 
 ^' She doesn't care for him ? " 
 
 ^' I don't think so ; but a man can't tell." 
 
 '' Nonsense ! " said Ayre. '^ What's Eugene 
 up to ? " 
 
 ^^ Oh, you know he's booked." 
 
 ^' Kate Bernard?" 
 
 '' Yes." 
 
 '^ Tell you what, Morewood : I'll lay 
 you " 
 
 ^' No, you won't. Come and see the picture. 
 It's the finest thing — in its way — I ever did." 
 
 '' Going to exhibit it ? " 
 
 '' I'm going to work up and exhibit another 
 I've done of him, not this one ; at least, I'm 
 afraid he won't stand this one." 
 
 '' Gad ! Have you painted him with horns 
 and a tail ? " 
 
 Whereto Morewood answered only, 
 
 '' Come and see." 
 
 As they went in, they met Eugene, hands 
 in pockets and pipe in mouth, looking im- 
 mensely bored. 
 
MR. MORE WOOD'S MASTERPIECE. 63 
 
 ''Dr. Livingstone, I presume?'' said he. 
 "' Excuse the mode of address, but I've not 
 seen a soul all the morning and thought I 
 must have dropped down somewhere in Africa. 
 It's monstrous ! I ask about ten people to my 
 house, and I never have a soul to speak to !" 
 
 '' Where's Miss Bernard ? " asked Ayre. 
 
 '' Kate is learning constitutional principles 
 from Haddington in the shrubbery. Lady 
 Claudia is learning sacerdotal principles from 
 Stafford in the shrubbery. My mother is 
 learning equine principles from Bob Territon 
 in the stables. You are learning immoral 
 principles from Morewood on the lawn. I 
 don't complain, but is there anything a man 
 can do ? " 
 
 '' Yes, there's a picture to be seen — More- 
 wood's latest." 
 
 ''Good!" 
 
 " I don't know that I shall show it to 
 Lane." 
 
 "Oh, get out!" said Eugene. "I shall 
 summon the servants to my aid. Who's it 
 of?" 
 
 " Stafford," said Ayre. 
 
 " The Pope in full canonicals ? " 
 
 "All right. Lane. But you're a friend of 
 his, and you mayn't like it." 
 
64 FATHER STAFFORD. 
 
 Tliey entered the billiard-room, a long 
 building tliat ran out from the west wing of 
 the house. In the extreme end of it More- 
 wood had extemporised a studio, attracted by 
 the good light. 
 
 /' Give me a good top-light," he had said, 
 ^^ and I wouldn't change places with an arch- 
 angel ! " 
 
 " Your lights, top or otherwise, are not 
 such," Eugene remarked, ''as to make it likely 
 the berth will be offered you." 
 
 ''This picture is, I understand, Eugene, a 
 stunner. Give us chairs and some brandy and 
 soda and trot it out," said Ayre. 
 
 Morewood was unmoved by their frivolity. 
 He tugged at his ragged red beard for a 
 moment or two, while they were settling them- 
 selves. 
 
 "Ell show you this first," he said, taking 
 up one of the canvases that leant against the 
 wall. 
 
 It was a beautiful sketch of a half-length 
 figure, and represented Stafford in the garb of 
 a monk, gazing up with eager eyes, full of the 
 vision of the Eternal City beyond the skies. 
 It was the face of a devotee and a visionary, 
 and yet it was full of strength and resolution ; 
 and there was in it the look of a man who had 
 
MR. MOEEWOOD'S MASTERPIECE. 05 
 
 put aside all except the service and tlie con- 
 templation of the Divine. 
 
 Ayre forgot to sneer, and Eugene mur- 
 mured, 
 
 ^'Glorious! \Yhat a subject! And, old 
 fellow, what an artist ! " 
 
 " That is good," said Morewood quietly. 
 ^' It's fine, but as a matter of painting the 
 other is still better. I caught him looking like 
 that one morning. He came out before break- 
 fast, very early, into the garden. I was out 
 there, but he didn't see me, and he stood look- 
 ing up like that for ever so long, his lips just 
 parted and his eyes straining through the veil, 
 as you see that. It may be all nonsense, but 
 — line, isn't it ? " 
 
 The two men nodded. 
 
 '' Now for the other," said Ayre. '^ B}^ 
 Jove ! I feel as if I'd been in church." 
 
 '' The other I got only three or four days 
 ago. Again I was a Paul Pry — we have to be, 
 you know, if we're to do anything worth 
 doing — and I took him while he sat. But I 
 daresay you'd better see it first." 
 
 He took another and smaller picture and 
 placed it on the easel, standing for a moment 
 between it and the onlookers and studying it 
 closely. Then he stepped aside in silence. 
 
 E 
 
66 FATHER STAFFORD. 
 
 It was merely a head — nothing more — 
 standing- out boldly from a dark background. 
 The face was again Stafford's, but the present- 
 ment differed strangely. It was still beautiful ; 
 it had even a beauty the other had not, the 
 beauty of youth and passion. The devotee 
 was gone ; in his place was a face that, in 
 spite of the ascetic cast of feature, was so 
 lighted up Avith the fire of love and longing, 
 that it might have stood for a Leander or a 
 Romeo. It expressed an eager yearning, that 
 made it seem to be craning out of the picture 
 in the effort to reach that unknown object on 
 which the eyes Avere fixed witli such devouring 
 passion. 
 
 The men sat looking at it in amazement. 
 Eugene was half angry, half alarmed. Ayre 
 was closely studying the picture, his old look 
 of cynical amusement struggling with a sur- 
 prise which it was against his profession to 
 admit. They forgot to praise the picture ; 
 but Morewood was well content with their 
 tacit homage. 
 
 '' The finest thing I ever did — on my life, 
 one of the finest things anyone ever did," he 
 murmured ; '' and I can't show it ! " 
 
 ^'No," said Eugene. 
 
 Ayre rose and took his stand before the 
 
MR. MORE WOOD'S MASTERPIECE. 67 
 
 picture. Then he got a chair, choosing the 
 lowest he could find, and sat down, sitting well 
 back. This attitude brought him exactly 
 under the gaze of the eyes. 
 
 ''Is it your diabolic fancy," he said, ''or 
 did you honestly copy it ? " 
 
 "I never stuck closer to what I saw," the 
 painter replied. "It's not my doing; he 
 looked like that." 
 
 " Then who was sitting, as it were, where 
 I am now ? " 
 
 " Yes," said Morewood. " I thought you 
 couldn't miss it." 
 
 "Wlio was it?" asked Euo;ene in an 
 excited way. 
 
 The others looked keenly at him for a 
 moment. 
 
 "You know," said Morewood, "Claudia 
 Territon. She was sitting there reading. He 
 had a book too, but had laid it down on 
 his knee. She sat reading, and he looking. 
 In a moment I had caught the look. Then 
 she put down the book, and as she turned to 
 him to speak, in a second it was gone, and he 
 was — not this picture nor the other, but as we 
 know him every day." 
 
 " She didn't see ? " asked Eugene. 
 
 "No." 
 
 E 2 
 
68 ' FATHER STAFFORD. 
 
 '^ Thank God ! " lie cried. Then in a 
 moment, recollecting himself, he looked at the 
 two men, and saw what he had done. They 
 tried to look as if they noticed nothing. 
 
 '^ You must destroy that thing, Morewood," 
 said he. 
 
 Morewood' s face was a study. 
 
 ''I would as soon," he said deliberately, 
 '^ cut off my right hand." 
 
 '^ril give you a thousand pounds for it," 
 said Eugene. 
 
 '' What would you do with it ? " 
 
 " Burn it." 
 
 " Then you shouldn't have it for ten 
 thousand." 
 
 " I thought you'd say that. But he mustn't 
 see it." 
 
 '' Why, Lane, you're as bad as a child. It's 
 a man in love, that's all." 
 
 " If he saw it," said Eugene, ^' he'd hang 
 liimself." 
 
 ^' Oh, gently," said Ayre. '' If you ask me, 
 I expect Stafford will pretty soon get beyond 
 any surprise at the revelation. He must walk 
 his path, like all of us. It can't matter to you, 
 you know," he added with a sharp glance. 
 
 ^'No, it can't matter to me," said Eugene 
 steadily. 
 
MR. MOREWOOB'S MASTERPIECE. 60 
 
 ^^ Put it away, Morewood, and come out of 
 doors. Perhaps you'd better not leave it 
 about at present at any rate." 
 
 Morewood took down the picture and 
 placed it in a large portfolio, which he locked, 
 and accompanied Ayre. Eugene made no 
 motion to come with them, and they left him 
 sitting there. 
 
 ^' The atmosphere," said Sir Roderick, look- 
 ing up into the clear summer sky, '^ is getting 
 thundery and complicated. I hate complica- 
 tions ! They're a bore ! I think I shall go." 
 
 ^^ I shan't. It will be interesting." 
 
 ^^ Perhaps you're right. I'll stay a little 
 while." 
 
 ^^Ah! here you are. I've been looking 
 for somebody to amuse me." 
 
 The speaker was Claudia, looking very 
 fresh and cool in her soft white dress. 
 
 ''What have you done with the Pope?" 
 asked Ayre. 
 
 " He gave me to understand he had wasted 
 enough time on me, and went in to write." 
 
 " I should think he was right," said Sir 
 Roderick. 
 
 '' I daresay," said Claudia carelessly. 
 
 Her conscience was evidently quite at ease : 
 but they did not know whether this meant that 
 
70 FATHER STAFFORD. 
 
 lier actions had deserved no blame. However, 
 they were neither of them men to judge such 
 a case as hers harshly. 
 
 "If I were fifteen years younger," said 
 Ayre, " I would waste all my time on you." 
 
 "Why, you're only about forty," said 
 Claudia. " That's not too old." 
 
 " Good! " said he, smiling. " Life in the 
 old dog yet, eh ? But go in and see Lane. He's 
 in the billiard-room, thinking over his sins and 
 getting low-spirited." 
 
 " And I shall be a change ? " 
 
 " I don't know about that. Perhaps he's a 
 homoeopathist.'' 
 
 " I hate you!" said Claudia with a very 
 kind glance, as slie pursued her way in the 
 direction indicated. 
 
 " She means no harm," said Morewood. 
 
 " But slie may do the devil of a lot. We 
 can't help it, can we ? " 
 
 " No — not our business if we could," said 
 Morewood. 
 
 Claudia paused for a moment at the door. 
 Eugene was still sitting with his head on his 
 hand. 
 
 "It's very odd," thought she. "What's 
 he looking at the easel for ? There's notliing 
 on it/' 
 
ME. MORE WOOD'S MASTERPIECE. 71 
 
 Then she began to sing. Eugene looked up. 
 
 '^ Is it you, Lady Claudia ? " 
 
 ^' Yes. Why are you moping here ? " 
 
 ^^ Where's Stafford?" 
 
 ^^ Everybody," said Claudia impatiently, 
 throwing her hat, and herself after it, on a 
 lounge, ^' asks me where Father Stafford is. 
 I don't know, Mr. Lane, and what's more, at 
 this moment I don't care. Have you nothing 
 better than that to say to me when I come to 
 look for you ? " 
 
 Eugene pulled himself together. Tragedy 
 airs would be insufferable. 
 
 '' True, most beauteous damsel ! " he said. 
 '^ I am remiss. For the purposes of the 
 moment, hang Stafford ! What shall we do ? " 
 
 She got up and came close to him. 
 
 " Mr. Lane," she whispered, '' what do you 
 think there is in the stable ? " 
 
 ^' I know what there isn't: that's a horse 
 fit to ride." 
 
 "A libel! a libel ! But there is (in a still 
 lower whisper) a sociable.''^ 
 
 "A what?" 
 
 '^ A sociable." 
 
 ^' Do you mean a tricycle ? " 
 
 ^' Yes — for two." 
 
 '''' Oho ! " said Eugene, gently chuckling. 
 
7-2 FATHER STAFFORD, 
 
 ^'Wouldn't it be fun?" 
 
 ''On the road?" 
 
 ''N — no, perhaps not ; round the park." 
 
 " Hush ! S'death ! if Kate saw us ! Where 
 is she?" 
 
 " I saw her last with Mr. Haddington." 
 
 '' In the scheme of creation everything has 
 its use," replied Eugene tranquilly. '^ Had- 
 dington supplies a felt want." 
 
 " Be quiet. But will you ? " 
 
 ''Yes ; come along. Be swift and silent." 
 
 " I must go and put on an old frock." 
 
 "All right ; be quick." 
 
 " What is the use ? " Eugene pondered : " I 
 can't have her, and Stafford may as well — if 
 he will. Will he, I wonder ? And would she ? 
 Oil lord ! what a nuisance they are I By Jove ! 
 I should like to see Kate's face if she spots 
 
 us." 
 
 A few minutes later the strange and un edi- 
 fying sight of Lady Claudia Territon and 
 Mr. Lane, mounted on a very rickety old 
 " sociable," presented itself to the gaping gaze 
 of several labourers in the park. Claudia was 
 in her most boisterous spirits ; Eugene, by one 
 of the quick transitions of his nature, was 
 liardly less elate. Up:hill they toiled and down- 
 hill they raced, getting, as the manner of 
 
MB. MOEE WOOD'S MASTERPIECE. 73 
 
 '^ cyclists" is, very warm and rather oily. But 
 retribution lagged not. Down a steep hill they 
 came, round a sharp turn they went, and, alas ! 
 over into a ditch they fell. This was bad 
 enough, but in the calm seclusion of a garden 
 seat, perched on a knoll just above them, the 
 sinners as they rose, dirty but unhurt, beheld 
 Miss Bernard ! For a moment all was con- 
 sternation. What would she say ? 
 
 It was a curious thing, but Kate seemed 
 as embarrassed as themselves, and she said 
 nothing except — 
 
 "• Oh, I hope you're not hurt," and said 
 this in a hasty way and with ostentatious 
 amiability. 
 
 Eugene was surprised. But as his eyes 
 wandered, they fell on Haddington, and that 
 rising politician held awkwardly in his hand, 
 and was trying to convey behind his back, 
 what looked very like a lady's glove. Now 
 Miss Bernard had only one glove on. 
 
 '' The battery is spiked," he whispered 
 triumphantly. ^' Come along, Lady Claudia." 
 
 Claudia hadn't seen what Eugene had, but 
 she obeyed, and off they went again, airily 
 waving their hands. 
 
 '' What's the matter with her ?" she asked. 
 
 Eugene was struggling with laughter. 
 
74 FATHER 8TAFF0ED. 
 
 ^' Didn't you see ? Haddington had lier 
 glove! Splendid!" 
 
 Claudia, regardless of safety, turned for an 
 instant a flushed smiling face to him. He was 
 about to speak, but she turned away again, 
 exclaiming, 
 
 ^^ Quick! I've promised to meet Father 
 Stafford at twelve, and I mustn't keep him 
 waiting. I wouldn't miss it for the world ! " 
 
 Eugene was checked ; Claudia saw it. 
 What she thought is not revealed, but they 
 returned home in somewhat gloomy silence. 
 And it is a comfort to the narrator, and it is 
 to be hoped to the reader, to think that Mr. 
 Eugene Lane got something besides pleasure 
 out of his discreditable performance and his 
 lamentable want of proper feeling. 
 
75 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 HOW THREE GENTLEMEN ACTED FOR THE BEST. 
 
 The schemers scliemed and the waiters upon 
 events waited with considerable patience, but 
 although the days wore on, the situation 
 showed little signs of speedy development. 
 Matters were in fact in a rather puzzling 
 position. The friendship and intimacy between 
 Claudia and Stafford continued to increase. 
 Eugene, whether in penitence or in pique, had 
 turned with renewed zeal to his proper duties 
 and was no longer content to allow Kate to be 
 monopolised by Haddington. The latter' s 
 attentions had indeed been in danger of 
 becoming too marked, and it is, perhaps, 
 not uncharitable to attribute Kate's aj)parent 
 avoidance of them as much to considerations 
 of expediency as of principle. At the same 
 time, there was no coolness between Eugene 
 and Haddington, and when his guest presented 
 a valid excuse and proposed departure, Eugene 
 met the suggestion with an obviously sincere 
 opposition. Sir Roderick really could not 
 make out what was going on. Now Sir 
 Roderick disliked being puzzled : it conveyed 
 
76 FATHER STAFFORD. 
 
 a reflection on his acuteness, and he therefore 
 was a sharer in the perturbation of mind that 
 evidently afflicted some of his companions, in 
 spite of their decorous behaviour. But content- 
 ment was not wanting" in some hearts. More- 
 wood was happy in the pursuit of his art and 
 in arguments with Stafford ; and Bob Territon 
 had found refuge in an energetic attempt to 
 organise and train a Manor team to do battle 
 with the village cricket club, headed as it had 
 been for thirty years past by the Rector. 
 Moreover, Stafford himself still seemed tran- 
 quil. It would have been difficult for most 
 men to fail to understand their true position in 
 such a case more fully than he, in spite of his 
 usual penetration of vision, had succeeded in 
 doing. But he was now in a strange country, 
 and the landmarks of feeling whereby the 
 exjDerienced traveller on such paths can learn 
 and note, even if he cannot check, his descent, 
 were to Stafford unmeaning and empty of 
 warning. Of course, he knew he liked 
 Claudia's society ; he found her talk at once a 
 change, a rest, and a stimulus ; he had even 
 become aware that of all the people at the 
 Manor, except his old friend and host, she had 
 for him the most interest and attraction ; per- 
 haps he had even suffered at times that sense 
 
THREE GENTLEMEN ACT FOR THE BEST. 77 
 
 of vacancy of all the chairs when her chair 
 was vacant that should have told him of his 
 state if anything would. But he did not see ; 
 he was blind in this matter, even as, say, Ayre 
 or Morewood would have proved blind if called 
 upon to study and describe the mental process 
 of a religious conversion. He was yet far 
 from realising that an influence had entered 
 his life in force strong enough to contend with 
 that which had so long ruled him with 
 undivided sway. It was the part of a friend to 
 hope and try that he might go with his own 
 heart yet a secret to him. So hoped Eugene. 
 But Eugene, unnerved by self-suspicion, would 
 not lift a finger to hasten his friend's departure, 
 lest he should seem to himself, or be without 
 perceiving it even himself, alert to save his 
 friend, only because his friend's salvation 
 would be to his own comfort. 
 
 Sir Roderick Ayre however was not 
 restrained by Eugene's scruples nor inspired 
 by Eugene's devotion to Stafford. Stafford 
 interested him, but he was not his friend, and 
 Ayre did not understand, or, if truth be told, 
 appreciate the almost reverential attitude which 
 Eugene, usually so very devoid of reverence, 
 adopted towards him. Ayre thought Staf- 
 ford's vow nonsense, and that if he was in love 
 
78 FATHER STAFFORD. 
 
 with Claudia Territon there was no harm 
 done. 
 
 '' Many people have been," he said, " and 
 many will be, before the little witch grows old 
 and — no, by Jove ! she'll never grow ngly ! " 
 
 Trivial as the matter seemed, looked at in 
 this light, it had yet enough of human interest 
 about it to decide him to leave the grouse 
 alone, and wait patiently for the partridges at 
 Millstead. After all, he had shot grouse and 
 most other things for thirty years ; and, as he 
 said, '^ the parson was a change, and the house 
 deuced comfortable, and old Eugene a good 
 fellow." 
 
 Now it came to pass one day that the 
 devil, having a spare hour on his hands and 
 remembering that he had often met with a 
 hospitable reception from Sir Roderick, to 
 say nothing of having a bowing acquaintance 
 with Morewood, looked in at the Manor, and 
 finding his old quarters at Sir Roderick's swept 
 and garnished, incontinently took up his abode 
 there, and proceeded to look round for some 
 suitable occupation. When this momentous 
 but invisible event accomplished itself. Sir 
 Roderick was outwardly engaged in the inno- 
 cent and aimless pursuit of knocking the 
 billiard-balls about and listening absently to a 
 
THREE GENTLEMEN ACT FOR THE BEST. 79 
 
 discourse from Morewood on the essential 
 truths which he (Morewood) had grasped and 
 presented alone of modern artists. The theme 
 was not exhilarating, and Sir Roderick's tenant 
 soon grew very tired of it, the presentment of 
 truth, indeed, essential or otherwise, not being 
 a matter that concerned him. But in the 
 course of an inspection of Sir Roderick's con- 
 sciousness, he had come across something that 
 appeared wortli following up, and towards 
 it he proceeded to direct his entertainer's 
 conversation. 
 
 ^' I say, Morewood," said Ayre, breaking in 
 on the discourse, '^ do you think it's fair to 
 keep that fellow Stafford in the dark ? " 
 
 " Is he in the dark ? " 
 
 '^ It's a queer thing, but he is. I never 
 knew a man who was in love before without 
 knowing it — they say women are that way — 
 but then I never met a ' Father ' before." 
 
 ^^ What do you pro230se, since you insist on 
 gossiping ? " 
 
 ^' It isn't gossip ; it's Christian feeling. 
 Someone ought to tell the poor beggar." 
 
 ^' Perhaps you'd like to." 
 
 ^' I should, but it would seem like a liberty, 
 and I never take liberties. You do constantly, 
 so you might as well take this one." 
 
80 FATHER STAFFORD. 
 
 " I like that ! Why, the man's a stranger ! 
 If he ought to be told at all, Lane's the man to 
 do it." 
 
 ^' Yes, but you see, Lane " 
 
 ^' That's quite true ; I forgot. But isn't he 
 better left alone to get over it?" 
 
 Sir Roderick, unprejudiced, might have 
 conceded the point. But the prompter inter- 
 vened. 
 
 "What I'm thinking about is this: is it 
 fair to her? I don't say she's in love with 
 him, but she admires him immensely. They're 
 always together, and — well, it's plain what's 
 likely enough to happen. If it does, what 
 will be said? Who'll believe he did it un- 
 consciously ? And if he breaks her heart, how 
 is it better because he did it unconsciously ? " 
 
 " You are unusually benevolent," said More- 
 wood drily. 
 
 ^' Hang it ! a man has some feelings." 
 
 " You're a humbug, Ayre ! " 
 
 "Never mind what lam. You won't tell 
 him?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "It would be a very interesting problem." 
 
 "It would." 
 
 " That vow of his is all nonsense, aint 
 it?" 
 
THREE GENTLEMEN ACT FOR THE BEST. 81 
 
 '^ Utter nonsense I " 
 
 '' Why shouldn't he have his chance of being 
 happy in a reasonable way ? I shouldn't wonder 
 if she took him." 
 
 '' No more should I." 
 
 ^' Upon my soul, I believe it's a duty I I 
 say, Morewood, do you think he'd see it for 
 hmiself from the picture ? " 
 
 " Of course he would. No one could help 
 it." 
 
 " Will you let him see it ? " . 
 
 Morewood took a turn or two up and down, 
 tugging his beard. The issue was doubtful. 
 A certain auditor of the conversation, perceiv- 
 ing this, hastily transferred himself from one 
 interlocutor to the other. 
 
 " I'll tell you what I'll do : I'll let him see 
 it if Lane agrees. I'll leave it to Lane." 
 
 '' Rather rough on Lane, isn't it ? " 
 
 '' A little strong emotion of any kind won't 
 do Lane any harm." 
 
 "Perhaps not. We will train our young 
 friend's mind to cope with moral problems. 
 He'll never get on in the world nowadays 
 unless he can do that. It's now part of a 
 gentleman's — still more of a lady's — edu- 
 cation." 
 
 Eugene was clearly wanted. By some 
 
 F 
 
82 FATHER STAFFORD. 
 
 agency, into which it is needless to inquire, 
 though we niay have suspicions, at that 
 moment Eugene strolled into the billiard- 
 room. 
 
 ''We have a little question to submit to 
 you, my dear fellow," said Ayre blandly. 
 
 Eugene looked at him suspiciously. He 
 had been a good deal worried the last few days, 
 and had a dim idea that he deserved it, which 
 deprived him of the sense of unmerited suffer- 
 ing—a most valuable consolation in time of 
 trouble. 
 
 ''It's about Stafford. You remember the 
 head of him More wood did, and the conclusion 
 we drew from it — or, rather, it forced upon us ? " 
 
 Eugene nodded, instinctively assuming his 
 most nonchalant air. 
 
 "We think he's a bad case. What think 
 you?" 
 
 "I agree — at least, I suppose I do. I 
 haven't thought much about it." 
 
 Ayre thought the indifference overdone, 
 but he took no notice of it. 
 
 "We are inclined to think he ought to 
 be shown that picture. I am clear about it ; 
 More wood doubts. And we are going to refer 
 it to you." 
 
 " You'd better leave me out." 
 
THREE GENTLEMEN ACT FOR THE BEST. 83 
 
 '' Not at all. You're a friend of his, known 
 him all your life, and you'll know best what 
 will be for his good." 
 
 ^^ If vou insist on askin^^ me, I think vou 
 had better let it alone." 
 
 '^ Wait a minute. Why do you say 
 that?" 
 
 ^' Because it will be a shock to him." 
 
 ^^No doubt, at first. He's got some silly 
 notion in his head about not marrying, and 
 about it's being sinful to fall in love, and all 
 that." 
 
 ^'It won't make him happier to be re- 
 fused." 
 
 Ayre leant forward in his chair, and said, 
 
 '' How do you know she'll refuse him ?" 
 
 '^ I don't know. How should I know ? " 
 
 ''Do you think it likely?" 
 
 ^'Is that a fair question?" asked More- 
 wood. 
 
 '' Perfectly," said Eugene, with an expres- 
 sionless face. ''But it's one I have no means 
 of answering." 
 
 "He's plucky," thought Ayre. "Would 
 you give the same answer you gave just now 
 if you thought she'd take him ? " 
 
 It was certainly hard on Eugene. Was he 
 bound, against even a tolerably strong feeling 
 F 2 
 
84 FATHER STAFFORD. 
 
 of his own, to give Stafford every eliance ? It 
 is not fair to a man to make him a judge 
 where he is in truth a party. Ayre had no 
 mercy for him. 
 
 '' For the sake of a trumpery pledge is he 
 to throw away his own happiness — and mark 
 you, Lane, perhaps hers ? " 
 
 Eugene did not wince. 
 
 ^' If there's a chance of success, he ought to 
 be given the opjDortunity of exercising his own 
 judgment," he said quietly. ^'It would dis- 
 tress him immensely, but we should have no 
 right to keep it from him. And I suppose 
 there's always a chance of success." 
 
 ^' Go and get the picture, Morewood," said 
 Sir Roderick. Then, when the painter was 
 looking in the portfolio, he said abruptly to 
 Eugene, 
 
 '* You could say nothing else." 
 
 ^'No. That's why you asked me, I sup- 
 pose. I hope I'm an interesting subject. You 
 dig pretty deej)." 
 
 ^'Serves you right!" said Ayre com- 
 posedly. '^ Why were you ever such an ass ? " 
 
 " God knows ! " groaned Eugene. 
 
 Morewood returned. 
 
 ^' He's due here in ten minutes to sit to me. 
 Are you going to stay ? " 
 
THREE GENTLEMEN ACT FOR THE BEST. 85 
 
 '^ No. You be doing something else, and 
 let that thing stand on the easel." 
 
 ^'Pleasant for me, isn't it?" asked More- 
 wood. 
 
 ^^ Are you ashamed of yourself for snatch- 
 ing it ? " 
 
 ^^ Not a bit." 
 
 ^' All right, then ; what's the matter? Come 
 along, Eugene. After all, you know, you'll 
 like showing it. For an outsider, like yourself, 
 it's really a deuced clever little bit. Perhaps 
 they will make you an Associate if Stafford 
 will let you show it." 
 
 Morewood ignored the taunt, and sat 
 down by the window on pretence of touching 
 up a sketch. He had not been there long 
 when he heard Stafford come in, and became 
 conscious that he had caught sight of the 
 picture. He did not look up, and heard no 
 sound. A long pause followed. Then lie felt 
 a strong grip on his shoulder, and Stafford 
 whispered, 
 
 ^' It is my face? " 
 
 '^ You see it is." 
 
 ^^Youdidit?" 
 
 ^^Yes. I ought to beg your pardon," and 
 he looked up. Stafford was pale as death, and 
 trembling. 
 
86 FATHER STAFFORD. 
 
 '^ A few days ago." 
 
 '^ On your oath — no, you don't believe tiiat 
 — on your honour, is it truth ? " 
 
 ^'Yes, it is.'' 
 
 '^ You saw it — just as it is there ? " 
 
 " Yes, it is exact. I had no right to take 
 it or to show it you." 
 
 ^^What does that matter, man? Do you 
 think I care about that ? But — yes, it is true. 
 God help me ! " 
 
 '' We have seen it, you know. It was time 
 you saw it." 
 
 ^' Time, indeed! " 
 
 ' Where's the harm ? " asked More wood, in 
 
 a rough effort at comfort. 
 
 ^^ The harm ! But you don't understand. 
 It is the face of a beast ! " 
 
 ^'My dear fellow, that's stuff! It's only 
 the face of a lover." 
 
 Stafford looked at him in a dazed way. 
 
 '' I wish you'd let me go back to my room, 
 Morewood, and give me that pictm-e. No — I 
 won't hurt it." 
 
 ^' Take it then, and pull yourself together. 
 What's the harm, again I say? And if she 
 loves you " 
 
 ^' What ! '' he cried eagerly. Then, check- 
 
THREE GENTLEMEN ACT FOR THE BEST. 87 
 
 ing himself, '^ Hold your peace, in Heaven's 
 name, and let me go ! " 
 
 He went his way, and Morewood leaped 
 from the window to find the other two. He 
 found them, but not alone. Ayre was discours- 
 ing to Claudia and appeared entirely oblivious 
 of the occurrence which he had precipitated. 
 Eugene was walking up and down with Kate 
 Bernard. It is necessary to listen to what the 
 latter couple were saying. 
 
 " This is sad news, Kate," Eugene said. 
 ^^ Why are you going to leave us ? " 
 
 ^'My aunt wants me to go with her to 
 Buxton in September, and we're going to have 
 a few days on the river before that." 
 
 ^'Then we shall not meet again for some 
 time?" 
 
 '^ No. Of course I shall write to you." 
 
 " Thank you — I hope you will. You've 
 had a pleasant time, I hope ? Who are to be 
 your river party ? " 
 
 ^^ Oh, just ourselves and one or two girls 
 and men. Lord Rickmansworth is to be there 
 a day or two, if he can. And — oh yes, Mr. 
 Haddington, I think." 
 
 '' Isn't Haddington staying here ? " 
 
 ^^ I don't know. I understood not. 
 So your party will break up," Kate went 
 
88 FATHER STAFFOBD. 
 
 on. '^ Of course, Claudia can't stay when I 
 go." 
 
 ^' Why not?" 
 
 ^' Really, Eugene, it would be hardly the 
 thing." 
 
 '' I believe my mother is not thinking of 
 
 gomo" 
 
 ?5 
 
 ^^ Do you mean you will ask Claudia ? " 
 
 '' I certainly cannot ask her to curtail her 
 visit." 
 
 ''Anyhow, Father Stafford goes soon, and 
 she won't stay then." 
 
 This last shaft accomplished Miss Bernard's 
 presumable object. Eugene lost his temper. 
 
 " Forgive me for saying so, Kate," he said, 
 " but really at times your mind seems to me 
 positively vulgar." 
 
 "I am not going to quarrel. I am quite 
 aware of what you want." 
 
 ''What's that?" 
 
 " An opportunity for quarrelling." 
 
 " If that's all, I might have found several. 
 But come, Kate, it's no use, and not very 
 dignified, to squabble. We haven't got on 
 so well as we might. But I daresay it's my 
 fault." 
 
 " Do you want to throw mo over?" asked 
 Kate scornfully, 
 
THREE GENTLEMEN ACT FOB THE BEST. 89 
 
 ^'For Heaven's sake, don't talk like a 
 breach-of-promise plaintiff. I am and always 
 have been perfectly ready to fulfil my engage- 
 ment. But you don't make it easy for me. 
 Unless you ' throw me over,' as you are 
 pleased to phrase it, things will remain as 
 they are." 
 
 ^^I have been taught to consider an engage- 
 ment as binding as a marriage." 
 
 ''No warrant for such a view in Holy 
 Scripture." 
 
 "And whatever my feelings maybe — and 
 you can hardly wonder if after your conduct 
 they are not what they were — I shall consider 
 myself bound." 
 
 " I have never proposed anything else." 
 
 '' Your conduct with Claudia " 
 
 '' I must ask you to leave Lady Claudia 
 alone. If you come to that — but there, I was 
 just going to scratch back like a schoohgirl. 
 Let us remember our manners, if nothing else." 
 
 ''And our principles," added Kate 
 haughtily. 
 
 "By all means, and forget our deviations 
 from them. And now this conversation may 
 as well end, may it not ? " 
 
 Kate's only answer was to walk straight 
 awav to the house. 
 
90 FATHER STAFFORD. 
 
 Eugene joined Claudia: Ayre, in his ab- 
 sence, had been reinforced by the accession 
 of Bob Territon. 
 
 ^'Kate's going to-morrow," Eugene an- 
 nounced. 
 
 ^^ So I heard," said Claudia. " We must 
 go too — we have been here a terrible time." 
 
 ^^Why?" 
 
 '^ It's all nonsense ! " interposed Bob de- 
 cisively ; '^ we can't go for a week. The match 
 is fixed for next Wednesday." 
 
 '' But," said Claudia, " Fm not going to 
 play." 
 
 "1 am," said Bob. ^^And where do you 
 propose to go to ? " 
 
 ^^ No, Lady Claudia," said Eugene, ^'you 
 must see us through the great day. I really 
 wish you would. The whole county's coming, 
 and it will be too much for my mother alone. 
 After the cricket match, if you still insist, the 
 deluge ! " 
 
 ^^I'll ask Mrs. Lane. She'll tell me what 
 to do." 
 
 ^' Good child ! " said Sir Roderick. ^^I am 
 going to stay right away till the birds. And 
 as Lane says I aint to have any birds unless I 
 field at long-leg, I am going to field at long- 
 leg." 
 
THREE GENTLEMEN ACT FOR THE BEST. 91 
 
 '^ Splendid ! " cried Claudia, clapping her 
 hands : '' Sir Roderick Ayre at a rustic cricket 
 match ! Mr. Morewood shall sketch you." 
 
 " I've had enough of sketching just now,'' 
 said Morewood. Ayre and Eugene looked up. 
 Morewood nodded slightly. 
 
 '' Where's Stafford? " asked Ayre. 
 
 ^^ In his room — at work, I suppose. He put 
 off my sitting." 
 
 ^' Never mind Father Stafford," said Claudia 
 decisively. " Wlio is going to play tennis ? I 
 shall play with Sir Roderick." 
 
 '^ I'd much rather sit still in the shade," 
 pleaded Sir Roderick. 
 
 ' ' You're a very rude old gentleman ! But 
 you must play, all the same — against Bob and 
 Mr. Morewood." 
 
 ^^ Where do I come in?" asked Eugene. 
 " Mayn't I do anything. Lady Claudia ?" 
 
 The others were looking after the net and 
 the racquets, and Claudia was left with him for 
 a moment. 
 
 *' Yes," she said; '^ you may go and sit on 
 Kate's trunks till they lock." 
 
 " Wait a little while ; I will be revenged on 
 you. I want, though, to ask you a question." 
 
 ^' Oh! Is it a question that no one else — 
 say Kate for instance — could help you with?" 
 
92 FATHER STAFFORD. 
 
 '' It's not about myself." 
 ^^Is it about me?" 
 
 ^'Yes." 
 
 '•^ What's the matter, Mr. Lane ? Is it any- 
 thing serious ? " 
 u Very." 
 
 ^'Nonsense!" said Claudia. ^^ You really 
 mustn't dp it, Mr. Lane, or I can't stay for the 
 cricket match." 
 
 "■ We shall be desolate. Stafford's going in 
 a few days." 
 
 But Claudia's face was entirely guileless as 
 she replied, 
 
 ^'Is he? I'm so sorry! But he's looking 
 much stronger, isn't he ? " 
 
 With which she departed to join Sir Rode- 
 rick, who had been spending the interval in 
 extracting from More wood an account of Staf- 
 ford's behaviour. 
 
 '' Hard hit, was he ? " he concluded, 
 
 " He looked it." 
 
 ^' Wonder wliat he'll do ! I'll give you five 
 to four he asks her." 
 • '^ Done ! " said Morewood : ^' in fives." 
 
93 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 FATHER STAFFORD KEEPS VIGIL. 
 
 Dinner that evening at the Manor was not a 
 very brilhant affair. Stafford did not appear, 
 pleading that it was a Friday, and a strict fast 
 for him. Kate was distinctly out of temjDer, 
 and treated the company in general, and 
 Eugene in particular, with frigidity. Every- 
 body felt that the situation was somewhat 
 strained, and in consequence the pleasant flow 
 of personal talk that marks parties of friends 
 was dried up at its source. The discussion of 
 general topics was found to be a relief. 
 
 '' The utter uselessness of such a class as 
 Ayre represents," said Morewood emphatically, 
 taking up a conversation that had started no 
 one quite knew how, '^ must strike every sen- 
 sible man.'' 
 
 " At least they buy pictures," said Eugene. 
 
 "' On the contrary. They now sell old 
 masters, and empty the j^ockets of would-be 
 buvers." 
 
 '' They are very ornamental," remarked 
 Claudia. 
 
 ^'In some cases, undoubtedly," said More- 
 wood. 
 
U FATHER STAFFORD. 
 
 ^^ If you mean a titled class, '^ said Ayre, 
 ^* I quite agree. I object to titles. They only 
 confuse ranks. A sweep is made a lord, and 
 outsiders think he's a gentleman." 
 
 ^' Come, you're a baronet yourself, you 
 know," said Eugene. 
 
 '^ It's true," admitted Ayre, with a sigh ; 
 ^^ but it happened a long while ago, and we've 
 nearly lived it down." 
 
 '' Take care they don't make you a 
 peer ! " 
 
 ^' I have passed a busy life in avoiding it. 
 After all, there's a chance. I'm not a brewer or 
 a lawyer, or anything of that kind. But still, 
 the fear of it has paralysed my energies and 
 compelled me to squander my fortune. They 
 don't make poor men peers." 
 
 '^ That ought to have been allowed to weigh 
 in the balance in favour of Dives," suggested 
 Eugene. 
 
 ^' Not a bit," said Ayre. " Depend upon it, 
 they kept it for him down below." 
 
 ^' 1 hate cynicism ! " said Claudia, suddenly 
 and aggressively. 
 
 Ayre put up his eye-glass. 
 
 '' It's all affectation." 
 Really, Lady Claudia, you might be quite 
 
 u 
 
FATHER STAFFORD KEEPS VIGIL. 95 
 
 old, from the way you talk. That is one of the 
 illusions of age which, by the way, have not 
 received enough attention." 
 
 ^^ That's very true," said Eugene. "Old 
 people think the world better than it is because 
 their faculties don't enable them to make such 
 demands upon it." 
 
 " My dear Eugene," said Mrs. Lane perti- 
 nently, " what can you know about it? As we 
 grow old we grow charitable." 
 
 '^And why is that?" asked Morewood ; 
 " not because you think better of other people, 
 but because you know more of yourself." 
 
 " That is so," said Ayre. " Standing mid- 
 way between youth and age, I am an arbiter. 
 You judge others by yourself. In youth you 
 have an unduly good opinion of yoiu-self : tliat 
 unduly depresses your opinion of others. In 
 age it's the opposite way. But who knows 
 which is more wrong ? " 
 
 ''At least let us hope age is right, Sir 
 Roderick," said Mrs. Lane. 
 
 "' By all means," said he. 
 
 ''All this doesn't touch my point," said 
 Claudia. "You are accounting for it as if it 
 existed. My point was that it didn't exist. I 
 said it was all affectation." 
 
 "And not the only sort of affectation of 
 
d6 FATHER STAFFORD. 
 
 the same kind ! " said Kate Bernard, with re- 
 markable emphasis. 
 
 Sir Roderick enjoyed a troubled sea. Turn- 
 ing to Kate, with a rapid side g-lance at Claudia 
 on the way, he said, 
 
 '' That's interesting. How do you mean, 
 Miss Bernard ?" 
 
 ^^ All attempts to put oneself forward, to be 
 peculiar, and so on, are the same kind of affec- 
 tation, and are odious— especially in women." 
 
 There was nothing very much in the words, 
 and Kate was careful to look straight in front 
 of her as she uttered them. Still they told. 
 
 ^' You mean," said Ayre, '' there may be an 
 affectation of freshness and enthusiasm — gush, 
 in fact — as bad, or worse, than cynicism, and 
 really springing from the same root ? " 
 
 Kate had not arrived at any such definite 
 meaning, but she nodded her head. 
 
 "An assumed sprightliness," continued Ayre 
 cheerfully, ^' perliaps coquettishness ? " 
 
 " Exactly," Kate assented, " and a way of 
 pushing into conversations which my mother 
 used to say girls had better let alone." 
 
 This was tolerably direct, but it did not 
 satisfy Ayre's malicious humour, and he was 
 on the point of a new question when Hadding- 
 ton, who had taken no part in the previous 
 
FATHER STAFFORD KEEPS VIGIL. 97 
 
 conversation but had his reasons for interferini^: 
 now, put in suavely, 
 
 '^If Miss Bernard and you, Ayre, will for- 
 give me, are we not wandering from the 
 point?" 
 
 '' Was there any point to wander from?'' 
 suggested Eugene. 
 
 So they drifted through tlie evening, skirt- 
 ing the coast of quarrels and talking of every- 
 thing except that of which they were thinking. 
 Verily, love affairs do not always conduce to 
 social enjoyment — more especially other peo- 
 ple's love affairs. Still, Sir Roderick Ayrewas 
 entertained. 
 
 Meanwhile, Stafford sat in his room alone, 
 save for the company of his own picture. He 
 was like a man who has been groping his way 
 through difficult paths in the dark — uneasy, it 
 may be, and nervous, but with no serious alarm. 
 On a sudden, a storm-flash may reveal to him 
 that he is on the very edge of a precipice or 
 already ankle-deep in some bottomless morass. 
 The sight of his own face, interpreted with all 
 Morewood's penetrating insight and mastery of 
 hand, had been a revelation to him. No more 
 mercilessly candid messenger could have been 
 found. Arguments he would have resisted or 
 confuted; appeals to his own consciousness would 
 
 G 
 
08 FATHER STAFFORD. 
 
 liave failed for want of experience ; lie could 
 not affect to disbelieve the verdict of his own 
 countenance. He had in all his life been a 
 man who dealt plainly with himself ; it was 
 only in this last matter that the power, more 
 than the will, to understand his own heart had 
 failed him. His intellect now re-asserted itself. 
 He did not attempt to blink facts : he did not 
 deny the truth of the revelation or seek to ex- 
 tenuate its force. He did not tell himself that 
 the matter was a trifle, or that its effect would 
 be transient. He recognised that he had fallen 
 from the state of a priest vowed to HeaA^en to 
 that of a man whose whole heart and mind 
 had gone out in love for a woman and were 
 filled witli her image. His judgment of him- 
 self was utterly reversed, his pre-suppositions 
 confounded, his scheme of life wrecked; all 
 this he knew for truth, unless indeed it might 
 be that victory could still be his — victory after 
 a struggle even to death : a struggle that 
 had found no type or forecast in the mimic 
 contests that had marked almost without dis- 
 turbing his earlier progress on the road of his 
 choice. 
 
 In the long hours that he sat gazing at 
 the picture his mind was the scene of chang- 
 ing moods. At first the sense of horror and 
 
FATHER STAFFORD KEEPS VIGIL. 99 
 
 shame was paramount. He was aghast at him- 
 self and too full of self -abhorrence to do more 
 than fight blindly away from what he could 
 not but see. He would fain have lost his senses 
 if only to buy the boon of ignorance. Then 
 this mood passed. The long habit of his heart 
 asserted itself, and he fell on his knees, no 
 longer in horror, but in abasement and peni- 
 tence. Now all his thought was for the sin he 
 had done to Heaven and to his vow : but had he 
 not learnt and taught, and re-learnt in teaching, 
 that there was no sin without pardon, if pardon 
 were sought ? And for a moment, not peace, 
 but the far-off possible hope and prospect of 
 peace regained comforted his spirit. It might 
 be yet that he would come through the dark 
 valley, and gaze with his old eyes on the light 
 of his life set in the sky. 
 
 But was his sin only against Heaven and 
 his vow and himself ? Is sin so confined ? If 
 Morewood had seen, had not others ? Had not 
 she seen ? Would not the discovery he had 
 made come to her also ? Nay, had it not 
 come ? He had been blind ; but had she ? 
 Was it not far more likely that she had not 
 deceived herself as to the tendency of their 
 friendship, nor dreamt that he meant anything 
 except what his acts, words, and looks had so 
 G 2 
 
100 FATHER STAFFORD. 
 
 plainly — yes, to his own eyes now, so plainly 
 declared ? He looked back on her graciousness, 
 her delight in his society, her unconcealed 
 admiration for him. What meaning had these 
 but one ? What did she know of his vow ? 
 Why should she dream of anything save the 
 ha23py ending of the story that flits before 
 the half-averted eyes of a girl when she 
 is -with her lover ? Even if she had heard 
 of his vow, would they not all tell her it 
 was a conceit of youth, a spiritual affec- 
 tation, a thing that a wise counsellor would 
 tell him and her quietly to set aside ? Did it 
 not all point to this ? He was not only a 
 perjurer towards Heaven, but his sin had 
 brought woe and pain to her he loved. 
 
 So he groaned in renewed self-condemna- 
 tion. But what did that mean ? And then an 
 irresistible tide of triumph swept over him, 
 obliterating shame and horror and remorse. 
 She loved him. He had won. Be it good or 
 evil, she was his ! Who forbade his joy ? 
 Though all the world, aye, and all heaven, 
 were against him, nothing should stojD him. 
 Should he sin for naught? Should he not 
 have the price of his soul ? Should he not 
 enjoy what he had bought so dearly ? Enough 
 of talking, and enough of reasoning ! Passion 
 
FATHER STAFFORD KEEPS VIGIL. 101 
 
 filled liim, and he knew no good nor evil save 
 its satiety or hunger. 
 
 The mad mood passed, and there came a 
 worthier mind. He sat and looked along the 
 avenue of his life. He saw himself walking 
 hand in hand with her. Now she was not the 
 instrument of his pleasure, but the helper in his 
 Q-ood deeds. Bv her sweet influence he was 
 stronger to do well ; his broader sympathies 
 and fuller life made a servant more valuable 
 to his Master : he v/ould serve Heaven as well 
 and man better, and, knowing the common joys 
 of man, he would better minister to common 
 pains. Who was he that he should claim to 
 lead a life apart, or arrogate to himself an im- 
 munity and an independence other men had 
 not ? Man and woman created He them, and 
 did it not make for good ? And he sank back 
 in his chair, with the picture of a life before 
 him, blessed and giving blessings, and ending 
 at last in an old age, when she would still 
 be with him, when he should be the head and 
 inspiration of a house wherein God's service 
 was done, when he should see his sons' sons 
 following in his steps, and so, having borne his 
 part, fall asleep, to wake again to an union 
 wherein were no stain of earth and no shadow 
 of parting. 
 
102 FATHER STAFFORD. 
 
 From these musings he awoke with a 
 shudder, as there came back to him many a 
 memory of lofty pitying words, with which 
 he had gently drawn aside the cloak of seem- 
 liness wherein some sinner had sought to wrap 
 his sin. His dream of the perfect joint-life, 
 what was it but a sham tribute to decency, 
 a threadbare garment for the hideousness of 
 naked passion ? Had he taught himself to con- 
 template such a life, and shaped himself for it, 
 it might be a worthy life — not the highest, but 
 good for men who were not made for saints. 
 But as it was, it seemed to him but a glozing 
 over of his crime. Sternly there stood between 
 him and it his profession and his pledge. If he 
 would forsake the one and violate the other, 
 by Heaven, he would do it boldly, and not seek 
 to slink out by such self-cozening ! At least 
 he would not deceive himself again. If he 
 sinned, he would sin openly to his own heart. 
 There should be no compact : nothing but 
 defeat or victory ! And yet, was he right ? It 
 would be pitiful if for pride's sake, if for 
 fear of the sneers of men, he were to kill her 
 joy and defile his own soul with her heart's 
 blood. People would laugh at the converted 
 celibate — was it that. he feared ? Had he fallen 
 so low as that ? or was the shrinking he felt 
 
FATHER STAFFORD KEEPS VIGIL. 103 
 
 not rather the dread that his fall would be a 
 stone of stumbling to others ? for in his infatu- 
 ation he had assumed to be an example. Was 
 there no distinguishing good and evil ? Could 
 every motive and every act change form and 
 colour as you looked at it, and be now the 
 counsel of Heaven, and now the prompting of 
 Satan ? How then could a man choose his 
 path ? In his bewilderment the darkness closed 
 round him, and he groaned aloud. 
 
 It was late now, nearly midnight, and the 
 house was quiet. Stafford walked to the open 
 window and leant out, bending his tired head 
 upon his hand. As he looked out he saw 
 through the darkness Eugene and Ay re still 
 sitting on the terrace, Ayre was talking. 
 
 '' Yes," he was saying, ^^ we are taught to 
 think ourselves of a mighty deal of importance. 
 How we fare and what we do is set before us 
 as a thing about which angels rejoice or 
 mourn. The state of our little minds, or souls, 
 or Avhatever it is, is a matter of deep care to the 
 Creator — the Life of the universe. How can 
 it be ? How are we more than minutest points 
 in that picture in His mind, which is the world ? 
 I speak in human metaphor, as one must speak. 
 In truth, we are at once a fraction, a tiny frac- 
 tion — oh, what a tiny fraction ! — of the ^^icture, 
 
104 FATHER STAFFORD. 
 
 and tlie like little jot of what it exists for. 
 And does what conies to lis matter very much 
 — whether we walk a little more or a little less 
 cleanly — aim a little higher or lower, if there 
 is a higher and lower ? What matter ? Ah, 
 Eugene, our parents and our pastors teach us 
 A^anity ! To me it seems pitiful. Let us take 
 our little sunshine, doing as little harm and 
 giving as little j)ain as we may, living as long 
 as we can, and doing our little bit of useful 
 work for the ground when we are dead, if we 
 did none for the world when we were livinfr. 
 If you cremate, you will deprive many people 
 of their only utility." 
 
 Eugene gently laughed. 
 
 " Of course you put it as unattractively as 
 you can." 
 
 " Yes ; but I can't put it unattractively 
 enough to be true. I used to fret and strive, 
 and think archangels hung on my actions. 
 There are none ; and if there were, what would 
 they care for me ? I am a part of it, I 
 suppose — a j)art of the Red King's dream, as 
 Alice says. But what a little part ! I do well 
 if I suffer little and give little suffering, and 
 so quietly go to help the cabbages." 
 
 '' I don't think I believe it," said Eu- 
 gene. 
 
FATHER STAFFORD KEEPS VIGIL. 105 
 
 ^^I suppose not. It's hard to believe and 
 impossible to disbelieve." 
 
 Stafford listened intently. Memories came 
 back to him of books he had read and put 
 behind him : books wherein Ayre had found 
 his creed, if the thing could be Called a creed. 
 Was that true ? Was he rending his soul for 
 nothing ? A day earlier such a thought would 
 have been to him at once a torture and a sin. 
 Now he found strange comfort in it. Why 
 strive and cry, when none watched the effort or 
 heard the agony ? Why torture himself ? Why 
 torture others ? If the world were good, why 
 was he not to have his part ? If it were bad, 
 might he not find a quiet nook under the wall, 
 out of the storm ? Why must he try to breast 
 it ? If Avre was rio^ht, what a tra^rical farce 
 his struggle was, what a perverse delusion, 
 what an aimless flinging away of tlie little joy 
 his little life could offer ! If this were so, then 
 was he indeed alone in the world — except for 
 Claudia. Was his choice in truth between this 
 world and the next ? He might throw one / 
 away and never find the other. 
 
 Then lie cursed the voice, and himself for 
 listening to it, and fell again to vehement 
 prayers and self-reproaches, trying to drown 
 the clamour of his heart with his insistent 
 
106 FATHER STAFFORD. 
 
 petitions. If he could onlj pray as lie had 
 been wont to pray, he was saved. There lay 
 a respite from thought and a refuge from 
 passion. Why could he not abandon his whole 
 soul to communion with God, as once he could, 
 shutting out all save the sense of sin and the 
 conviction of forgiveness ? He prayed for 
 power to pray. But, like the guilty king, he 
 could not say Amen. He could not bind his 
 wandering thoughts, nor dispel the froward 
 imaginings of his distempered mind. He asked 
 one thing, and in his heart desired another ; he 
 prayed, and did not desire an answer to his 
 prayer ; for when he tried to bow his heart in 
 supplication, ever in the midst, between him 
 and the throne before which he bent, came the 
 form and the face and the voice he loved, and 
 the temptation and the longing and the doubt. 
 And he was tost and driven about through the 
 livelong niglit till, in utter weariness, he fell on 
 the floor and slept. 
 
107 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 AN EARLY TRAIN AND A MORNING'S AMUSEMENT. 
 
 It was still early when he awoke, weary, stiff, 
 and unrefreshed, but with a conviction in his 
 mind that had grown plain and strong in the 
 mysterious way notions sometimes seem to 
 gather force in hours of unconsciousness and 
 surprise us with their mature vigour when we 
 awake. " I must go ! " he kept muttering to 
 himself; ^' I must go — go and think. I dare 
 do nothing now." He hastily packed a hand- 
 bag, wrote a note for Eugene, asking that the 
 rest of his luggage might be forwarded to an 
 address he would send, went quietly downstairs, 
 and, finding the door just opened, passed out 
 unseen. He had three miles to walk to the 
 station, but his restless feet brought him there 
 quickly, and he had more than an hour to wait 
 for the first train, at half -past eight. He sat 
 down on the platform and waited. His capacity 
 for thought and emotion seemed for the time 
 exhausted. His thoughts wandered from one 
 trivial matter to another, always eluding his 
 effort to ^x them. He found himself acutely 
 studying the gang of labourers who were going 
 
108 FATHER STAFFOEB. 
 
 by train to their day's work, and wondering 
 how many pipes each of their carefully guarded 
 matches would light, and what each carried in 
 his battered tin drinking-bottle, remembering 
 with a dreary sort of amusement that he had 
 heard this same incurable littleness of thought 
 settled on men condemned to death. Still, it 
 passed the time, and he was surprised out of 
 a sort of reverie by the clanging of the porter's 
 inharmonious bell. 
 
 At the same moment a 23haeton was rapidly 
 driven uj) to the door of the station, and all the 
 porters rushed to meet it. 
 
 '' Label it all for London," he heard 
 Eugene's voice say: " four boxes, a portman- 
 teau, and a hat-box. No, I'm not going — this 
 lady and gentleman." 
 
 Kate, Haddington, and Eugene came 
 through the ticket-office on to the platform. 
 Stafford involuntarily shrank back. 
 
 ^^ Just in time ! " Eugene was saying ; 
 '^though why the dickens you people will 
 start at such an hour, I don't know. Hadding- 
 ton, I suppose, always must be in a hurry — 
 never does for a rising man to admit he's got 
 spare time. But you, Kate ! It's j^ositively 
 uncomplimentary ! " 
 
 He sjioke lightly, but there was a troubled 
 
A MORNING'S AllUSEMENT. 109 
 
 look on his face ; and as Haddington went off 
 to take the tickets he drew near to Kate, and 
 said suddenly, 
 
 ^' Yon are determined on tliis, Kate?" 
 
 ^' On what ?" she asked coldly. 
 
 ^^ Why, to go like this — to bolt — it almost 
 comes to that — leaving things as they are be- 
 tween us ? " 
 
 ^^ Why not?" 
 
 " And with Haddington ? " 
 
 '^ Do you mean to insult me ? " 
 
 '' Of course not. But how do you think it 
 must look to me ? What do you imagine my 
 course must be ? " 
 
 '^ Really, Eugene, I see no need for this 
 scene. I suppose your course will be to w^ait 
 till I ask you to fulfil your promise, and then 
 to fulfil it. You have no sort of cause for 
 complaint." 
 
 Eugene could not resist a smile. 
 
 "• You are sublime!" he said. PerhajDS he 
 would have said more, but at this moment, to 
 his intense surprise, his eyes met Stafford's. 
 The latter gave him a quick look, in obedience 
 to which he checked his exclamation, and, 
 making some excuse about a parcel due and not 
 arrived, unceremoniously handed Kate to a 
 carriage, bundled Haddington in after her, and 
 
ii 
 
 it 
 
 110 FATHER STAFFORD. 
 
 walked rapidly to the front of the train, where 
 he had just seen Stafford getting into a third- 
 class compartment. 
 
 " What in the workl's the meaning of this, 
 my dear old boy ? " 
 
 ^^ I have left a note for you." 
 That will explain ? " 
 
 ^ No," said Stafford, with his unsparing 
 truthfulness, " it will not explain." 
 
 '^ How fagged you look I " 
 
 ^' Yes, I am tired." 
 
 '' You must go now, and like this ? " 
 
 " I think that is less bad than anything 
 else." 
 
 '' You can't tell me ? " 
 
 ^' Not now, old fellow. Perhaps I will 
 some day." 
 
 ^'You'll let me know what you're doing? 
 Hallo, she's off ! And, Stafford, nothing ever 
 between us ? " 
 
 "Why should there be?" he answered, with 
 some surprise. '' But you know there couldn't 
 be." 
 
 The train moved on as they shook hands, 
 and Eugene retraced his steps to his carriage. 
 
 "He's given her up," he said to himself, 
 with an irrepressible feeling of relief. " Poor 
 old fellow! Now ^" 
 
A MORNING'S AMUSEMENT. Ill 
 
 But Eugene's reflections were not of a cha- 
 racter that need or would repay recording. He 
 ought to have been ashamed of himself. I 
 venture to think he was. Nevertheless, he 
 arrived home in better spirits than a man has 
 any right to enjoy when he has seen his mis- 
 tress depart in a temper and his best friend in 
 sorrow. Our spirits are not always obedient 
 to the dictates of propriety. It is often equally 
 in vain that we call them from the vasty deep, 
 or try to dismiss them to it. They are re- 
 bellious creatures, whose only merit is their 
 sincerity. 
 
 Sir Roderick Ayre allowed few things to 
 surprise him, but the fact of any one delibe- 
 rately starting by the early train was one of 
 the few. In regard to such conduct, he re- 
 tained all his youthful capacity for wonder. 
 Surprise, however, gave way to unrestrained 
 and indecent exultation when he learnt that 
 the early party had consisted of Kate and 
 Haddington, and that Eugene himself had 
 escorted them to the station. Eugene was in 
 too good a temper to be seriously annoyed. 
 
 " I know it makes me look an ass," he said, 
 as they smoked the after-breakfast j^ipe, " but 
 I suppose that's all in the day's work." 
 
 "No doubt. It is tlie day's work," said 
 
112 FATIIEB STAFFORD. 
 
 Ayre; '^but, oli diplomatic young man, wliy 
 didn't you tell us at breakfast that the Pope 
 had also gone ? " 
 
 ^' Oh, you know that ? " 
 
 '' Of course. My man Timmins brings me 
 what I may call a way-bill every morning,, 
 and against Stafford's name was placed ' 8.30 
 train.' " 
 
 ^^ Useful man, Timmins," said Eugene. 
 ^' Did he happen to add why he had gone ?" 
 
 ^' There are limitations even to Timmins. 
 He did not." 
 
 ^' You can guess ? " 
 
 ^' Well, I suppose I can," answered Ayre, 
 with some resentment. 
 
 '^ He's given it up, apparently." 
 
 '^ I don't know.'' 
 
 '^ He must have. Awfully cut up he looked, 
 poor old chap ! I was glad Kate and Hadding- 
 ton didn't see him." 
 
 '' Poor chap \ He takes it hard. Hallo ! 
 here's the fo7is et origo maliy 
 
 More wood joined them. 
 
 "" I have been," he said gravely, ^^ rescuing 
 my picture. That inspired lunatic had wrapped 
 it up in broA\Ti paper, and put it among his 
 socks in his portmanteau. I couldn't see it 
 anywhere till I routed out the portmanteau. 
 
A MORNING'S AMUSEMENT. 113 
 
 If it had come to grief I should have entered 
 the Academy." 
 
 '' Don't give way so," said Ayre ; ^' it's un- 
 manly. Control your emotions." 
 
 Eugene rose. 
 
 " Where are you going ? " 
 
 Eugene smiled. 
 
 '^ This," said Ayre to Morewood, with a 
 wave of his hand, "is an abandoned young- 
 
 man." 
 
 a 
 
 It is," said More wood. "Bob Territon 
 is going rat-hunting, and proposes we shall also 
 go. What say you ? " 
 
 "I say, 'Yes,'" said Sir Roderick, with 
 alacrity. " It's a beastly cruel sport." 
 
 "You have lost," said Morewood, as they 
 walked away together. 
 
 " Wait a bit ! " said his companion. " But 
 young Eugene ! It's a pity that young man 
 has no morals." 
 
 " Is that so ? " 
 
 "Oh! not sim2)liciter,jo\i ]Lnow. Secundum 
 
 " Secundum feminam J in fact ?" 
 "Yes; and I brought him up, too." 
 " By their fruits ye shall know them. But 
 here's Bob and the terriers." 
 
 "Don't you fellows ever have a sister," 
 
 H 
 
114 FATHER STAFFORD. 
 
 said Bob, as he came ujo. '^ Claudia's just 
 savage because the Pope's gone. Can't get 
 her morning absolution, you know." 
 
 ^'Are absolution and ablution the same 
 word, Morewood?" asked Ayre. 
 
 '' Don't know. Ask the Eector. He's sm^e 
 to turn up when he hears of the rats." 
 
 '^ I think they must be — a sort of spiritual 
 tub. But Morewood will never admit he's 
 been educated. It detracts from his claim to 
 genius." 
 
 Eugene, freed from this frivolous company, 
 was not long in discovering Claudia's where- 
 abouts. He felt like a boy released from 
 school and, turning his eyes away from future 
 difficulties, was determined to enjoy himself 
 while he could. Claudia was seated on the 
 lawn in complete idleness and, ajDjoarently, con- 
 siderable discontent. 
 
 '^ Do your guests always scurry away with- 
 out saying good-bye to anybody, Mr. Lane?'' 
 she asked. 
 
 ^'I hope that you at least will not. But 
 didn't Kate say good-bye, or Haddington ? " 
 
 ^' I meant Father Stafford, of course." 
 
 ^' Oh, he had to go. He sent an apology 
 to you and all the party." 
 
 '' Did he tell you why he had to go ? " 
 
A MORNING'S AMUSEMENT. 115 
 
 ^^No," said Eugene, regarding lier with 
 covert attention. 
 
 ^' It's a pity if lie's unaccountable. I like 
 him so much otherwise." 
 
 '^ You don't like unaccountable people? " 
 
 Claudia seemed quite willing to let Stafford 
 drop out of the conversation. 
 
 ^^ No," she said ; '^ I tolerate you, Mr. Lane, 
 because I always know exactly what you'll do." 
 
 '^ Do you ? " he asked, only moderately 
 pleased. A man likes to be thought a little 
 mysterious. No doubt Claudia knew that. 
 
 '' I don't think you know what I am going 
 to do now." 
 
 "What?" 
 
 " I'm going to ask you if you know why 
 Father Stafford " 
 
 " Oh, please excuse me, Mr. Lane. I can't 
 speculate on your friend's motives. I don't 
 profess to understand him." 
 
 This might be indifference ; it sounded to 
 Eugene very like pique. 
 
 " I thought you might know." 
 
 "Mr. Lane," said Claudia, "either you 
 mean something or you don't. If the one, 
 you're taking a liberty, and one entirely with- 
 out excuse; if tlie other, you are simply 
 tedious." 
 H 2 
 
116 FATHER STAFFORD. 
 
 ^' I beg your pardon," said Eugene stiffly. 
 
 Claudia gave a little laugh. 
 
 ^' Why do you make me be so aggressive? 
 I don't want to be. Was I awfully severe ? " 
 
 ^' Yes, rather." 
 
 ^^ I meant it, you know. But did you come 
 quite resolved to quarrel ? / want to be plea- 
 sant." And Claudia raised her eyes with a re- 
 proachful glance. 
 
 *' In anger or otherwise, you are always 
 delightful," said Eugene politely. 
 
 '^ I accept that as a diplomatic advance — 
 not in its literal sense. After all, I must be 
 nice to you. You're all alone this morning." 
 
 '^ Lady Claudia," said he gravely, '' either 
 you mean something or you do not. If the 
 one " 
 
 '^ Be quiet this moment ! " she said, laughing. 
 
 He obeyed, and lay back in his low chair 
 with a sigh of content. 
 
 '' Yes ; never mind Stafford and never mind 
 Kate. Why should w^e ? They're not here." 
 
 ^' My silence is not to be taken for con- 
 sent," said Claudia, '' only it's too fine a day to 
 spend in trying to improve you or, indeed, 
 anybody else. But I shall not forget any of 
 my friends." 
 
 Now up to this point Eugene had behaved 
 
A 3£0ENIN0\S AMUSEMENT. 117 
 
 tolerably well. It is, however, a dangerous 
 thing to set yourself deliberately to study a 
 lady's attractions. Like all other one-sided 
 views of a subject, it is apt to carry you too 
 far. The sun and the wind were playing 
 about in Claudia's hair ; her eyes were full 
 of light, and her whole air, in spite of a 
 genuine effort after demureness, conveyed to 
 any self-respecting man an irresistible challenge 
 to make himself agreeable if he could. Eugene's 
 notions of making himself agreeable were, as 
 may have been gathered, liberal ; they certainly 
 included more than can be considered strictly 
 incumbent on young men in society. And, 
 besides being polite, Eugene was also curious. 
 It is one thing to suffer silently under a passion 
 which a sense of duty forbids ; such a jDOsition 
 has its pleasures. The situation is altered when 
 the idea dawns upon you that there is no 
 reciprocity of graceful suffering : that, in fact, 
 the lady may prefer somebody else. Eugene 
 wanted to know where he stood. 
 
 "Shall you be sorry to leave here?" he 
 asked. 
 
 "My feelings will be mixed. You see, 
 Rickmansworth has actually consented to take 
 me with liim to his moor, and that will be 
 great fun." 
 
118 FATHER STAFFORD. 
 
 '' Why, you don't go killing birds ? " 
 
 ^^ No, I don't kill birds." 
 
 ^^ There'll be only a pack of men there." 
 
 '' That's all. But I don't mind that— if the 
 scenery is good." 
 
 '^ I believe you're trying to make me 
 angry." 
 
 '^ Oh, no ! I know Sir Roderick doesn't let 
 you be angry. It's not good form." 
 
 ^^ Have you no heart, Claudia ?" 
 
 ^' I don't know. But I have a prefix." 
 
 ^^ Have you, after ten years' friendship ? " 
 
 Claudia laughed. 
 
 " You make me rather old. Were we 
 friends when I was ten ? " 
 
 ^' Oh, bother dates ! I don't count by time." 
 
 ^^ Really, Mr. Lane, if you were anybody 
 else I should call this absurd. It would be 
 flattering you and myself to call it wrong." 
 
 ^^Why?" 
 
 ^^ Because that would imply you were 
 
 serious." 
 
 '' Would it be wrong if I were ? " 
 
 '' Well, it would be generally considered 
 so, under the circumstances." 
 
 ^'I don't care about that. I have endured 
 it long enough. Oh, Claudia ! don't you see ? " 
 
 " I suppose," thought Claudia, ^' I ought to 
 
A AWENING'S AMUSEMENT. 119 
 
 crusli liim at this point. I think I'll wait a 
 little bit, though." 
 
 ^^ See what ? " she said. 
 
 ' ' Why, that— that ' ' 
 
 ^'Weil?" 
 
 ^' Hang it ! why is it always so abominably 
 absurd ? Why, that I love the ground you 
 tread on, Claudia ? Is this wretched thing to 
 keep us apart ? " 
 
 ''Mr. Lane, you're magnificent; but isn't 
 there a trifling assumption in your last 
 remark ? " 
 
 "How?" 
 
 '' AVell, you seemed — perhaps you didn't 
 mean it — to imply that only that ' \AT:etched 
 thing ' kept us apart. That's rather taking mo 
 for granted, isn't it ? '' 
 
 ''Ah! you know I didn't mean it. But if 
 things were different, could you '' 
 
 "A conditional proposal is a new fashion. 
 Is that one of Sir Roderick's ideas ? " 
 
 Eugene was at last angry. He was silent 
 for a moment. Then he said, 
 
 " I see. I must congratulate you." 
 
 "On what?" 
 
 " On having bagged a brace — without 
 accident to yourself. But I have had enough 
 of it." 
 
120 FATHER STAFFORD. 
 
 And without waiting for a reply to this 
 very rude speech, he rose and flung himself 
 across the lawn into the house. 
 
 Claudia seemed less angry than she ought 
 to have been. She sat with a little smile for a 
 moment ; then she threw her hat in the air and 
 caught it ; then lay back, sighed gently, and 
 ]nurmured, 
 
 ^' Heigho ! a brace means two, doesn't it ? 
 Who's the other? Oh! Mr. Haddington, I 
 suppose. I didn't think he knew. Poor 
 Eugene ! He's very angry, or he'd never have 
 been so rude. ' Bagged a brace ' ! " 
 
 And she actually laughed again, and then 
 said " Heigho ! " again. 
 
 Just at this moment Ayre came up the 
 drive, looking very hot and very disgusted. 
 Seeing Claudia, he came and sat down. 
 
 ''Bob's rat-hunting's a mere fraud," he 
 said. " I was there half-an-hour, and we only 
 bagged a brace." 
 
 '' What a curious coincidence ! " exclaimed 
 Claudia. 
 
 '' How a coincidence ?" 
 
 ''Oh, nothing. Bagging a brace means 
 killing two, doesn't it ? " 
 
 "Yes. Why?" 
 
 " Oh, I wanted to know." 
 
A MORNING'S AMUSEMENT. 121 
 
 Ayre looked at her. 
 
 '' \¥here's Eugene ? " 
 
 ^' He was here just now, but he's gone into 
 the house." 
 
 Ayre stroked his moustache meditatively. 
 
 " Did you want him ? " 
 
 ^' No, not particularly. I thought I should 
 find him here." 
 
 ^' You would if you'd come a little sooner." 
 
 ^'Ah! I'll go and find him." 
 
 ^' Yes, I should." 
 
 And o£P he went. 
 
 ''It is really very pleasant," said Claudia, 
 "to prevent Sir Eoderick finding out things 
 that he wants to find out. I think it does me 
 credit — and it annoys him so very much. I 
 will go and have a nice drive with Mrs. Lane, 
 and see some old women. I feel as if I ought 
 to do something proper." 
 
 And perhaps it was about time. 
 
122 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 STAFFORD IN RETREAT AND SIR RODERICK IN ACTION. 
 
 When Stafford got into the train on his head- 
 long flight from Millstead Manor, he had no 
 settled idea of his destination, and he arrived 
 in London without having made much progress 
 towards a resolution. Not knowing what he 
 wanted, he could not decide where he was most 
 likely to find it. Did he want to forget or to 
 think : to repent or to resolve ? This is the 
 alternative that presents itself to a mind 
 puzzled to know whether its doubt is a con- 
 cession to sin or a homage to reason. Stafford 
 had been bred in a school widely different 
 from that which treats all questions as open, 
 and all to be referred to the verdict of the 
 balance of expediency. Among other lessons, 
 he had been taught a deep distrust of the 
 instrument by which he was forced to guide 
 his actions. But no training had succeeded in 
 eradicating a strong mind's instinct of self- 
 confidence, and if up till now he had committed 
 no rebellion, it was because his reason had been 
 rather a voluntary and eager helper than a 
 captive or slave to the tribunal he distinguished 
 
STAFFORD IN EETBEAT. 123 
 
 from it by tlie name of conscience. With some 
 surprise at himself — a surprise that now took the 
 place of shame — he recognised that he was not 
 ready to take everything for granted, that he 
 must know that what he was flying from was in 
 fact sin, not only that it might be. That it was 
 sin he fully believed, but he would be sure. So 
 much triumph his passion extorted from him as 
 he paced irresolutely up and down the square 
 in front of Euston, after seeing Kate and 
 Haddington safely away, while the porter and 
 cabman Avondered why the traveller seemed 
 not sure where he wanted to go. Of their 
 wonder and their irreverent suggestions he 
 was supremely careless. 
 
 No, he would not go back at once to his 
 active work. Not only did his health still 
 forbid that — and, indeed, last night's struggle 
 seemed to him to have undone most of the 
 good he had gained from the quiet of Millstead 
 — but, what was more, he believed, above all, 
 in the importance of the state of the pastor's 
 own soul, and was convinced that his work 
 would be weak and futile done under such 
 conditions : that, in theological language, there 
 would be no blessing on it. When he had once 
 reached that conclusion, his path was plain 
 before him. He would go to the Retreat. This 
 
124 FATHER STAFFORD. 
 
 word Retreat has become familiar to those who 
 study ecclesiastical items in the paper. But the 
 Eetreat Stafford had in his mind was not quite 
 of the common kind. It had been founded 
 by one of the leaders of his party, and was 
 intended to serve the function of a spiritual 
 casual ward, whither those who were for the 
 moment at a loss might resort and find refuge 
 until they had time to turn round. It was not 
 a permanent home for anyone. After his stay, 
 the visitor returned to the world, if he would ; 
 if he were finally disabled he was passed on to 
 a permanent residence of another kind. The 
 Retreat was a temporary refuge only. Some- 
 times it was full, sometimes it was empty, 
 save for the Superintendent, as he was called ; 
 for religious terms were avoided, and a severe 
 neutrality of description forbade the possibility 
 of the Retreat itself seeming to take any side 
 in the various mental battles for which it 
 afforded a clear field, remote from interruption 
 and from the bias alike of the world and of 
 previous religious prepossessions. A man was 
 entirely left to himself at the Retreat. Save at 
 the dinner hour, no one spoke to him except 
 the Superintendent. The rule of his office was 
 that he should always be ready to listen on all 
 subjects, and to talk on all indifferent subjects. 
 
STAFFORD IN BE TREAT. 125 
 
 Advice and exhortation were forbidden to him. 
 If a man wanted the ordinary consolations of 
 religion, his case was not the sj)ecial case the 
 Retreat was founded to meet. When nobody 
 could help a man, and nothing was left for him 
 but to go through with the struggle in his own 
 soul, then he came to the Retreat. There he 
 stayed till he reached some conclusion : that is, 
 if he could reach one within a reasonable time ; 
 for the pretence of unconquerable hesitation 
 was not received. When he arrived at his re- 
 solve, he went away : what the resolve was, 
 and where he was going, whether to High or 
 Low, to Rome or Islington, to Church or Dis- 
 sent, or even to Mohammed, or Theosophy, or 
 what not, or nothing, nobody asked. Sucli a 
 foundation had struck many devoted followers 
 of the Founder as little better than a negation 
 or an abdication. The Founder thought other- 
 wise. '^ If forms and words are of any use to 
 him, a man will never come," he said : '' if he 
 comes, let him alone." And it may be that 
 this difference between the Founder and his 
 disciples was due to the fact that the Founder 
 believed that, given a fair field in any honest 
 mind, his views must prevail, whereas the dis- 
 ciples were not so strong in faith. 
 
 It is very possible the disciples were right. 
 
126 FATHER STAFFORD. 
 
 in a way ; but still the Founder's scheme now 
 and tlien caught a great prize that the disciples 
 would liave lost through their over-great med- 
 dling. The Founder would have rej)udiated tlie 
 idea of differences in value between souls. But 
 men sometimes act on ideas they repudiate, 
 and with very good results. 
 
 Whatever the merits or demerits of the 
 E^etreat might be, it was just the place Stafford 
 wanted. He shrank, almost with loathing, 
 from the thought of exposing himself to well- 
 meant ministrations from men who were his 
 inferiors : the theory of the equalising effect of 
 the sacred office, which appears to be held in great 
 tranquillity by many who see the absurdity of 
 parallel ideas applied in other spheres, was one 
 of the fictions that proved entirely powerless 
 over his mind at this juncture. He did not say 
 to himself that fools were fools and blind men 
 blind, whatever their office, degree, or pro- 
 fession ; but he was driven to the Eetreat by 
 a thought that a brutal speaker might have 
 rendered for him in those words without essen- 
 tial misrepresentation. Above all, he wanted 
 quiet — time to understand the new forces, and 
 to estimate the good or evil of the new ideas. 
 
 Arriving there late in the evening of the 
 same day on which he left Millsteadj for the 
 
STAFFORD IN RETREAT. 127 
 
 Retreat was situated on the borders of Exmoor 
 and the journey from Paddington was long and 
 slow, he was received by the Superintendent 
 with the grave welcome and studious absence 
 of questioning that were the rule of the house. 
 The Superintendent was an elderly man, in- 
 clining to stoutness and of unyielding jDlacidity. 
 It was suspected that the Founder had taken 
 pains to choose a man who would observe his 
 injunction of not meddling with thorny ques- 
 tions the more strictly from liis own inability 
 to understand them. 
 
 ^' We are very empty just now," he said, 
 with a sigh. Poor man ! perhaps it was dull. 
 ^^ Only two, besides yourself." 
 
 " The fewer the better," said Stafford, with 
 a smile, half in earnest, half humouring the 
 genius of the place. 
 
 The Superintendent looked as if he might 
 have said something on the other side, but re- 
 frained, and, without more, made Stafford at 
 home in the bare little room that was to serve 
 him for sleeping and living. Stafford was 
 full of weariness, and sank down on the bed 
 with a sense of momentary respite. He would 
 not begin to think till to-morrow. 
 
 Here we must leave him to wage liis un- 
 certain battle. When the visible and the 
 
128 FATHER STAFFORD. 
 
 invisible meet in the shock of strife about the 
 soul of a man, who may describe the changes 
 and chances of the fight ? In the peace of his 
 chosen solitude would he re-conquer the vision 
 that the clouds had hidden from him ? Or 
 would the allurements of his earthly love be 
 less strong because its dazzling incitements were 
 no longer actually before his eyes? He had 
 refused all aid and all alliance. He had chosen 
 to try the issue alone and unbefriended. Was 
 he strong enough ? — strong enough to think on 
 his love, and yet not to bow to it ? — strong 
 enough to picture to himself all its charms, 
 only to refuse to gather them ? Should he not 
 have seized every aid that counsel and authority 
 could offer him ? Would he not find too late 
 that his true strategy had been to fly, and not 
 to challenge, the encounter ? He had fancied 
 he could be himself the impartial judge in his 
 own cause, however vast the bribe that lay 
 ready to his hand. The issue of his sojourn 
 alone could tell whether he had misjudged his 
 strength. 
 
 While Stafford mused and strove, the world 
 moved on, and with it that small fraction of it 
 whose movements most nearly bore on the 
 fortunes of the recluse. 
 
 The party at Millstead Manor was finally 
 
SIB BODEEICK IN ACTION. 129 
 
 broken up by the departure of the Territons 
 and of Morewood about a week after Stafford 
 left. The cricket match came off with great 
 eclat ; in spite of a steady thirteen from the 
 Rector, who spent two hours in ^'compiling" 
 it — to use the technical term — and of several 
 catches missed by Sir Roderick, who was tried 
 in vain in all positions in the field, the Manor 
 team won by five wickets, and Bob Territon 
 felt that his summer had been well spent. 
 Ay re lingered on, with Eugene, shooting the 
 coverts till mid September, when the latter 
 abruptly and perhaps rudely announced that 
 he could not stand it any longer, and straight- 
 way took himself off to the Continent, sending 
 a line to Stafford to apprise him of the fact, 
 and another to Kate, to say he would have no 
 address for the next month. 
 
 For a moment Sir Roderick was at a loss. 
 He was tired of shooting ; he hated yachting ; 
 the ordinary country house visit was nothing 
 but shooting in the daytime and unmitigated 
 boredom in the evening. Really he didn't 
 know what to do with himself. This alarming 
 state of mind might have issued in some incon- 
 gruous activity of a useful sort, had not he 
 been rescued from it by the sudden discovery 
 that he had a mission. This revelation dawned 
 
130 FATHER STAFFORD. 
 
 upon liim in consequence of a note lie received 
 from Lord Rickmansworth. It appeared that 
 that nobleman had very soon got tired of his 
 moor, had resigned it into the eager hands of 
 Bob Territon, and was now at Baden-Baden. 
 This was certainly odd, and the writer evidently 
 knew it would appear so ; he therefore ap- 
 pended an explanation which was entirely 
 satisfactory to Sir Roderick, but which is, 
 happily, irrelevant to the purposes of this story. 
 What is more to the purpose, it further ap- 
 peared that Mrs. Welman, Kate Bernard's 
 aunt, had discarded Buxton in favour of the 
 same resort, and that Mr. Haddington, M.P., 
 had also ^^ proceeded" thither. 
 
 '' They are at the Victoria," wrote Rick- 
 mansworth ; '' I am at the Badischerhof , and — 
 (irrelevant matter). I go about a good deal 
 witli them, but it's beastly slow. Haddington 
 is all day in Kate's pocket, and Kate at best 
 isn't amusing. But what's Lane up to ? Do 
 come out here, old fellow. I'll find you some 
 amusement. Who do you think is here with 
 — (more irrelevant matter)." 
 
 Sir Roderick was influenced in part, no 
 doubt, by the irrelevant matter. But he also 
 felt that what concerns us concerned him. He 
 had come to a very definite conclusion that 
 
SIB BOBEBICK IN ACTION. 131 
 
 Kate Bernard ought not to marry Eugene 
 Lane. He was also sure that unless something 
 was done the marriage would take place. Kate 
 did not care for Eugene, but the match was 
 too good to be given up. Eugene would never 
 face the turmoil necessary to break it off. 
 
 '' I am the man," said Sir Roderick to him- 
 self. '^ I couldn't catch the parson, but if I 
 can't catch Miss Kate, call me an ass ! " 
 
 And he took train to Baden, sending off a 
 wire to Morewood to join him if he could, for 
 a considerable friendship existed between them. 
 Morewood, however, wouldn't come, and Ayre 
 was forced to make the journey in solitude. 
 
 '^ I thought I should bring him ! " ex- 
 claimed Lord Rickmansworth triumphantly, 
 as he received his friend on the platform, 
 and conducted him to a very perfect drag 
 which stood at the door. " Oh, you old 
 thief ! " 
 
 Rickmansworth was a tall, broad, reddish- 
 faced young man, with a jovial laugh, infinite 
 capacity for being amused at things not intrin- 
 sically humorous, and manners that he had 
 tried, fortunately with imperfect success, to 
 model on those of a prize-fighter. Ayre liked 
 him for Avhat he was, while sliuddering at 
 what he tried to be. 
 I 2 
 
132 FATHER STAFFORD. 
 
 '' I didn't come on that account at all/' he 
 said '' I came to look after some business." 
 
 ^^ Get out!" said the Earl pleasantly; 
 " do you think I don't know you ? " 
 
 Ayre allowed himself to yield in silence. 
 His motives were a little mixed ; and, any- 
 how, it was not at the moment desirable to 
 exj^lain them. His vindication would wait. 
 
 In the afternoon he paid his call on Mrs. 
 Welman. She was delighted to see him, not 
 only as a man of social repute, but also 
 because the good lady was in no little 
 distress of mind. The arrangement between 
 Kate and Eugene was, as a family arrange- 
 ment, above perfection. Mrs. Welman was 
 not rich, and, like people who are not rich, 
 she highly esteemed riches; like most women, 
 she looked with favour on Eugene ; the fact 
 of Kate having some money seemed to her, 
 as it does to most people, a reason for her 
 marrying somebody who had more, instead 
 of aiding in the beneficent work of a more 
 equal distribution of wealth. But Kate was 
 undeniably wilful. She treated her engage- 
 ment, indeed, as an absolutely binding and 
 unbreakable tie — a fact so conclusively ac- 
 complished that it could almost be ignored. 
 But she received any suggestion of a possible 
 
SIR RODERICK IN ACTION. 133 
 
 excess in her graciousness towards Haddington 
 and her acceptance of his society as at once 
 a folly and an insult : and as she was of age 
 and paid half the bills, all means of suasion 
 were conspicuously lacking. Mrs. Welman 
 was in a position exactly the reverse of the 
 pleasant one : she had responsibility without 
 power. It is true her responsibility was 
 mainly a figment of her own brain, but its 
 burden upon her was none the less heavy for 
 that. 
 
 It must be admitted that Ayre's dealings 
 with her were wanting in candour. Under 
 the guise of family friendship, he led her on 
 to open her mind to him. He extracted 
 from her detailed accounts of long excursions 
 into the outskirts of the forest, of numberless 
 walks in the shady paths, of an expedition to 
 the races (where perfect solitude can always 
 be obtained), and of many other diversions 
 which Kate and Haddington had enjoyed to- 
 gether, while she was left to knit '' clouds " 
 and chew reflections in the Kurhaus garden. 
 All this Ayre recognised, with lively but sup- 
 pressed satisfaction, was not as it should be. 
 
 ^'I have spoken to Kate," she concluded, 
 '^but she takes no notice; will you do me a 
 service ? " 
 
134 FATHER STAFFORD. 
 
 '^ Of course," said Ayre ; '^ any tiling I can." 
 
 " Will you speak to Mr. Haddington ? " 
 
 This by no means suited Ayre's book. 
 Moreover, it would very likely expose him to 
 a snub, and he had no fancy for being 
 snubbed by a man like Haddington. 
 
 ^^I can hardly do that. I have no posi- 
 tion. I'm not her father, or imcle, or any- 
 thing of that sort." 
 
 "You might influence him." 
 
 "No, he'd tell me to mind my own busi- 
 ness. To speak plainly, my dear lady, it isn't 
 as if Kate couldn't take care of herself. She 
 could stop his attentions to-morrow if she liked. 
 Isn't it so ? " 
 
 Mrs. Welman sadly admitted it was. 
 
 " The only thing I can do is to keep an 
 eye on them, and act as I think best ; that I 
 will gladly do." 
 
 And with this very ambiguous promise poor 
 Mrs. Welman was forced to be content. What- 
 ever his inward view of his own meaning was, 
 Ayre certainly fulfilled to the letter his promise 
 of keeping an eye on them. Kate was at first 
 much annoyed at his appearance ; she thought 
 she saw in him an emissary of Eugene. Sir 
 Roderick tactfully disabused her mind of this 
 notion, and, without intruding himself, he 
 
sin RODERICK IN ACTION. 135 
 
 managed to be with them a good deal, and with 
 Haddington alone a good deal more. More- 
 over, even when absent, he could generally 
 have given a shrewd guess where they were 
 and what they were doing. Without altogether 
 neglecting the other claims at which Rick- 
 mansworth had hinted, and which resolved 
 themselves into a long-standing and entirely 
 platonic attachment, he yet devoted himself 
 with zest and assiduity to his self-imposed 
 task. 
 
 In its 25i*C)secution he contrived to make 
 use of Rickmansworth to some extent. The 
 young man was a hospitable soul, delighting 
 in parties and picnics. Only consent to sit 
 with him on his four-in-hand and let him 
 drive you, and he cheerfully feasted you and 
 all your friends. His acquaintance was large, 
 and not, perhaps, very select. But Ayre in- 
 sisted on the proper distinctions being observed, 
 and was indebted to Rickmansworth's parties 
 for many opportunities of observation. He 
 was sure Haddington meant to marry Kate 
 if he could ; the scruples which had in some 
 degree restrained his actions, though not his 
 designs, at Millstead had vanished, and he was 
 pushing his suit, firmly and daringly ignoring 
 the fact of the engagement. Kate did nothing 
 
186 FATHER STAFFORD. 
 
 to remind him of it that Ayre could see, but 
 her behaviour, on the other hand, convinced 
 him that Haddington was to her only a 
 second string, and that, unless compelled, 
 she would not let Eugene go. She took 
 occasion more than once to show him that 
 she regarded her relation to Eugene as fully 
 existent. No doubt she thought there was a 
 chance that such words might find their way 
 to Eugene's ears. It is hardly necessary to 
 say they did not. 
 
 Watch as he might, Ayre's chance was slow 
 in coming. He knew very well that the fact 
 of a young lady, deserted by him who ought to 
 have been in attendance, consoling herself with 
 a flirtation with somebody else was not enough 
 for him to go upon. He must have something 
 more tangible than that. He did not indeed 
 look for anything that would compel Eugene 
 to act ; he had no expectation and, to do him 
 justice, no hope of that, for he knew Eugene 
 would act on nothing but an extreme necessity. 
 His hope lay in Kate herself. On her he was 
 prepared to have small mercy ; against her he 
 felt justified in playing the very rigour of the 
 game. But for a long while he had no oppor- 
 tunity of beginning the rubber. A fortnight 
 wore away, and nothing was done. Ayre 
 
SIR BODEBICK IN ACTION. 137 
 
 determined to wait on events no longer; he 
 would try liis hand at shaping them. 
 
 ^^ I wonder if Rick is too great a fool ? " he 
 said to himself meditatively one morning, as 
 he crossed one of the little bridges, and took 
 his way to the Kurhaus in search of his friend. 
 '^ I must try him." 
 
 He found Lord Rickmansworth alone, but 
 quite content. It was one of his happy 
 characteristics that he existed with delight 
 under almost any circumstances. One of his 
 team was lame, and a great friend of his was 
 sulky and had sent him away, and yet he sat 
 radiantly cheerful, with a large cigar in his 
 mouth and a small terrier by his side, sub- 
 jecting every lady who passed to a respectful 
 and covert but none the less searching and 
 severe examination. 
 
 '' I say. Rick, have you seen Haddington 
 lately?" 
 
 ^' Yes; he's gone down the road with Kate 
 Bernard to play tennis, or some such foolery." 
 
 ''With Kate?" 
 
 '' Rather ! Didn't expect anything else, did 
 you ? " 
 
 '' Does he mean to marry that girl ? " asked 
 Ayre, with a face of great innocence, much as 
 if it had just occurred to him. 
 
138 FATHER STAFFORD. 
 
 '^ Well, lie can't, unless she chucks old 
 Eugene over." 
 
 '' Will she, do you think ? " 
 
 ^'Well, I'm afraid not. I've got some 
 money on that they're never married, but I 
 don't see my way to handling it." 
 
 ^'Much?" 
 
 ^^ Well, no ; about twopence-halfpenny — a 
 fancy bet." 
 
 '' I'm glad it's nothing, because I want you 
 to help me, and you couldn't have if you had 
 anything on ; besides, you shouldn't bet on 
 such things." 
 
 '^ Oh, I'm not going to meddle with the 
 thing. It's enough work to prevent oneself 
 getting married, without troubling about other 
 people. But I rather like you telling me not 
 to bet on it ! " 
 
 ^^ She wouldn't suit Eugene." 
 
 ^' No ; lead him the devil of a life." 
 
 ^' She don't care for him." 
 
 ^' Not a straw." 
 
 '' Then, why don't she break it off ? " 
 
 ^' Ah, you innocent ! " said Rickmansworth, 
 with a broad grin. " Never heard of such a 
 thing as money in the case, did you ? Where 
 have 3^ou been these last five-and-forty 
 years ? " 
 
SIE BODE RICK IN ACTION: 139 
 
 ^^ Your raillery's a little fatiguing, Rick, 
 if you don't mind my saying so." 
 
 '' Say anything you like, old cliap, as long as 
 it isn't swearing. That's verhot here — penalty 
 one mark — see regulations. You must go out- 
 side if you want to curse, barring of course 
 you're a millionaire and like to make a splash." 
 
 " Rick, Rick, you do not amuse me. I do 
 not belong to the Albatross Club." 
 
 " No ; over age," replied his companion 
 blandly, and chuckled violently. 
 
 ^' I like to score off old Ayre, you know," 
 he said, in reporting the episode afterwards. 
 ^' He thinks himself smart." 
 
 ^'But look here. I want you to do this: 
 you go to Haddington and stir him up ; tell 
 him to bustle along ; tell him Kate is fooling 
 him, and make him put it to her — yes or no." 
 
 ^' Why ? it's not my funeral ! " 
 
 '' Is that your latest American ? I wish 
 you'd find native slang ; we used in my day ; 
 but I'll tell you why. It's because she's 
 keeping him on till she sees what Eugene '11 
 do. She's treating Eugene shamefully." 
 
 ''Oh, stow all that! Eugene is not so 
 remarkably strict, you know." And Lord 
 Rickm an s worth winked. 
 
 ''Wellj we'll leave that out," said Ayre, 
 
140 FATHER STAFFORD. 
 
 smiling. '' Tell him it's treating hiiii shame- 
 fully." 
 
 ^' That's more the ticket. But what if she 
 says ^No'?" 
 
 '^ If she says ^No' right out, I'm done," said 
 Ayre. ^^ But will she?" 
 
 '' The devil only knows ! " said Lord Rick- 
 mans worth. 
 
 '' Do you think you won't bungle it ? '' 
 
 ^'Do you take me for an ass? I'll make 
 him move, Ayre ; he shall give her a chaste 
 salute before the day's out. Old Eugene's no 
 better than he should be, but I'll see him 
 through." 
 
 Ayre thought privately that his companion 
 had perhaps other motives than love for 
 Eugene : perhaps family feelings, generally 
 dormant, had asserted themselves ; but he had 
 the wisdom not to hint at this. 
 
 ^^If you can frighten him, he'll press it 
 on. 
 
 '' Do you think I might lie a bit ? " 
 
 '^ No, I shouldn't lie. It's awkward. Be- 
 sides, you know you. wouldn't do it, and you 
 couldn't if you tried." 
 
 "I'll stir him up," reiterated Rickmans- 
 worth. " Give me my prayer-book and parasol, 
 and I'll go and find him." 
 
SIR EODEBICK IN ACTION 141 
 
 Ayre ignored what he supposed to be the 
 joke buried in this saying, and saw his friend 
 off on his errand, repeating his instructions as 
 he went. 
 
 What Lord Rickmans worth said to Mr. 
 Haddington has never, as the newspapers put 
 it, transpired. But ever since that date Sir 
 Roderick has always declared that Rick is not 
 such a fool as he looks. Certainly the envoy 
 was well 23leasedwith himself when he rejoined 
 his companion at dinner, and after imbibing a 
 full glass of champagne, said, 
 
 '^ To-night, my worthy old friend, you will 
 see." 
 
 ''Did he bite?" 
 
 '' He bit. That fellow's no fool. He saw 
 Kate's game when I pointed it out." 
 
 '' Will he stand up to her ? " 
 
 '' Rather ! going to hold a pistol to her 
 head." 
 
 '' I wonder what she'll say ? " 
 
 '' That's your look-out. I've done my 
 stage." 
 
 Ayre was nearer excitement than he had 
 been for a long while. After dinner he could 
 not rest. Refusing to accompany Rickmans- 
 worth to the entertainment the latter was 
 bound for, he strolled out into the quiet walks 
 
142 FATHER STAFFORD. 
 
 outside the Kiirliaus, which were deserted by 
 visitors and peopled only by a few frugal 
 natives, who saved their money and took the 
 music of the band from a cheap distance. But 
 surely some power was fighting for him, for 
 before he had gone a hundred yards he saw 
 on one of the seats in front of him two persons 
 whom the light of the moon clearly displayed 
 as Kate and Haddington. At Baden there is 
 a little hillside — one path runs at the bottom, 
 another runs along the side of the hill, half- 
 way up. Ayre hastily diverted his steps into 
 the upper path. A minute's walk brought him 
 directly behind the pair. Trees hid him from 
 them ; a seat invited him. For a moment 
 he struggled. Then, 7''uhesco referens^ he sat 
 down and deliberately listened. AVith the 
 sophisms by which he sought to justify this 
 action, we have no concern ; perhaps he was not 
 in reality much concerned about them. But. 
 what he heard had its importance. 
 
 "" I have been more patient than most men," 
 Haddington was saying. 
 
 '' You have no right to speak in that way," 
 Kate protested ; '^ it's — it's not respectful." 
 
 ^^ Kate, have we iiot got beyond respect ?" 
 
 " I hope not," said Sir Eoderick to him- 
 self. 
 
8IE RODERICK IN ACTION. 143 
 
 ^^I mean," Haddington went on, ^'tliere is 
 a point at which you must face realities. Kate, 
 do you love me ? " 
 
 Ayre leant forward, and peered through 
 the bushes. 
 
 '^ I will not break my engagement." 
 
 ^^ That is no answer." 
 
 ^^ I can't help it. I have been taught " 
 
 '' Oh, taught! Kate, you know Lane; 
 you know what he is. You saw him with 
 Lady " 
 
 '^ You're very unkind." 
 
 '^ And for his sake you throw away what I 
 offer?" 
 
 ^' Won't you be patient ? " 
 
 '^ Ah, you admit " 
 
 ^^No, I don't!" 
 
 '^ But you can't deny it. Now you make 
 me happy." 
 
 The conversation here became so low in 
 tone that Ayre, to his vast disgust, was unable 
 to overhear it. The next words that reached 
 his ear came again from Haddington. 
 
 ^' Well, I will wait — I will wait three 
 months. If nothing happens then, you will 
 break it off?" 
 
 A gentle ^^Yes" floated up to the eaves- 
 dropper. 
 
144 FATHER STAFFORD. 
 
 '' Though why you want him to break it 
 off rather than yourself, I don't know." 
 
 ^' He doesn't appreciate her morality," re- 
 flected Ayre, with a chuckle. 
 
 ^^Kate, we are promised to one another? 
 Secretly, if you like, but promised ? " 
 
 ^' I'm afraid it's very wrong." 
 
 '' Why, he deliberately insulted you ! " 
 
 The tones again became inaudible ; but 
 after a pause there came a sound that made 
 Ayre almost jump. 
 
 "' By Jove ! " he whispered in his excitement. 
 ^^ Confound these trees ! Was it only her hand, 
 or " 
 
 u 
 
 Then I have your promise, dear ? " 
 
 '' Yes ; in three months. But I must go 
 in. Aunt will be angry." 
 
 '^ You won't let him win you over ? " 
 
 ^^He has treated me badly; but I don't 
 want it said I jilted him." 
 
 They had risen by now. 
 
 "• You ask such a lot of me," said Hadding- 
 ton. 
 
 '' Ah ! I thought you said you loved me. 
 Can't you wait three months ? " 
 
 ^^ I suppose I must. But, Kate, you are 
 sincere with me? Tell me you love me." 
 
 Again Ayre leant forward. They had 
 
SIR RODERICK IN ACTION. 145 
 
 begun to walk away, but now Haddington 
 stopped, and laying his hand on Kate's arm, 
 detained her. '^ Say you love me," he said 
 again. 
 
 '' Yes, I love you ! " said Kate, with com- 
 mendable confusion, and they resumed their 
 walk. 
 
 ^^ What is her game ? " Ayre asked himself. 
 ' ' If she means to throw Eugene over, why 
 doesn't she do it right out? I don't believe 
 she does. She's afraid he'll throw her over. 
 And, by Jove ! she fobbed that fool off again ! 
 We're no further forward than we were. If 
 he makes trouble about this she'll deny the 
 whole thing. Miss Bernard is a lady of talent. 
 But — no, can I ? Yes, I will. Rather than 
 let her win, I'll step in. I'll go and see her 
 to-morrow. We shall neither of us be in a 
 position to reproach the other. But I'll see 
 what I can do. But Haddington ! To think 
 she should get round him again ! " 
 
146 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THE BATTLE OF BADEN. 
 
 Lord Rickmansworth was enjoying himself. 
 Over and above the particular pleasures for 
 wliose sake he had come to Baden, he relished 
 intensely the new attitude in Avhich he found 
 himself standing towards Ay re. Throughout 
 their previous acquaintance it had been Rick- 
 man sworth who was eager and excited, Ayre 
 who applied the cold water. Now the parts 
 were reversed, and the younger man found 
 great delight in jocosely rallying his senior on 
 his unwonted zeal and activity. Ayre accepted 
 his friend's jocosity and his own excitement 
 with equal placidity. Reproaches had never 
 stirred him to exertion : ridicule would not 
 stop him now. He took leave to add himself 
 to the materials for slightly contemptuous 
 amusement that the world had hitherto afforded 
 him, and he found his own absurd actions a 
 very sensible addition to his resources. He 
 realised why people who never act on impulse 
 and never do uncalled-for things are not only 
 dull to others, but suffer boredom themselves. 
 However the Millstead love affairs affected the 
 
THE BATTLE OF BADEN. 147 
 
 principal actors, there can be no question that 
 they relieved Sir Roderick Ayre from ennui 
 for a considerable number of months and exer- 
 cised a very wholesome effect on a man who 
 had come to take pride in his own miserable 
 inca]3acity for honest emotion. 
 
 He rose the next morning as nearly with 
 the lark as could reasonably be expected : more 
 nearly with the lark than the domestic staff of 
 the Badischerhof at all approved of. Was not 
 Kate Bernard in the habit of taking the waters 
 at half -past seven ? And in solitude ! For 
 Haddington's devotion was not allowed by him 
 to interfere with that early ride which is so 
 often a mark of legislators, and an assertion, 
 I suppose, of the strain on their minds that 
 might be ignored or doubted if not backed up 
 by some such evidence. The strain, of course, 
 followed Haddington to Baden : it was among 
 his most precious appurtenances ; and Ayre, 
 relying upon it, had little doubt that he could 
 succeed in finding Kate alone and unpro- 
 tected. 
 
 He was not deceived. He found Kate just 
 disposing of her draught, and an offer of 
 his company for a stroll was accepted with 
 tolerable graciousness. Kate distrusted him, 
 but she thought there was use in keeping on 
 J 2 
 
148 FATHER STAFFORD. 
 
 outwardly good terms ; and she had no sus- 
 picion of his shameless conduct the night be- 
 fore. Ayre directed their walk to the very 
 same seat on which she and Haddington had 
 sat. As they passed, either romance or lazi- 
 ness suggested to Kate that they should sit 
 down. Ayre accepted her proposal without 
 demur, asked and obtained leave for a cigar- 
 ette, and sat for a few moments in apparent 
 ease and vacancy of mind. He was thinking 
 how to begin. 
 
 " Ought one ever to do evil that good may 
 come ? '' he did begin, a long way off. 
 
 " Dear me, Sir Roderick, what a curious 
 question ! I suppose not." 
 
 *'I'm sorry; because I did evil last night, 
 and I want to confess." 
 
 ^' I really don't want to hear," said Kate, in 
 some alarm. There's no telling what men will 
 say when they become confidential, and Kate's 
 propriety was a tender plant. 
 
 '' It concerns you." 
 
 " Me ? Nonsense ! How can it ? " 
 
 ^' In order to serve a friend, I did a — well 
 — a doubtful thing." 
 
 Kate was puzzled. 
 
 '' You are in a curious mood, Sir Roderick. 
 Do you often ask moral counsel ? " 
 
THE BATTLE OF BABEN. 149 
 
 '' I am not going to ask it. I am, with 
 your kind permission, going to offer it." 
 
 " You are going to offer me moral coun- 
 sel ? " 
 
 ''• I thought of taking that liberty. You 
 see, we are old friends." 
 
 *"' We have known one another some time." 
 
 Ayre smiled at the implied correction. 
 
 " Do you object to plain speaking ? " 
 
 " That depends on the speaker. If he has 
 a right, no ; if not, yes." 
 
 '' You mean I should have no right ? " 
 
 ^' I certainly don't see on what ground." 
 
 '' If not an old friend of yours, as I had 
 hoped to be allowed to rank myself, I am, 
 anyhow, a very old friend of Eugene's." 
 
 '' What has Mr. Lane to do with it ? " 
 
 '^ As an old friend of his " 
 
 '^ Excuse me. Sir Roderick : you seem to 
 forget that ]\[r. Lane is even more than an old 
 friend to me." 
 
 ^' He should be, no doubt," said Ayre 
 blandly. 
 
 ^'I shall not listen to this. No old friend- 
 ship excuses impertinence, Sir Roderick." 
 
 ^' Pray don't be angry. I have really 
 something to say, and — pardon me — you must 
 hear it." 
 
160 FATHER STAFFORD. 
 
 ■'^ And what if I refuse ? " 
 
 ^^True; I did wrong to say ^mnst.' You 
 are at perfect liberty. Only, if you refuse, 
 Eugene must hear it." 
 
 Kate paused. Then, with a laugh, she 
 said, 
 
 '^ Perhaps I am taking it too gravely. What 
 is this great thing I must hear ? " 
 
 ^' Ah! I hoped we could settle it amicably. 
 It's merely this : you must release Eugene 
 from his engagement." 
 
 Kate did not trouble to affect surprise. She 
 knew it would be useless. 
 
 "• Did he send you to tell me this ? " 
 
 '^ You know he didn't." 
 
 '' Then whose envoy are you ? Ah ! 
 perhaps you are Claudia Territon's chosen 
 knight ? " 
 
 "Not at all," said Ayre, still unruffled. 
 ' ' I have had no communication with Lady 
 Claudia — a fact of which you have no right to 
 affect doubt." 
 
 " Then what do you mean ?" 
 
 " I mean you must release Eugene." 
 
 " Pray tell me why," asked she calmly, but 
 with a calm only obtained after effort. 
 
 " Because it is not usual — and in this matter 
 it seems to me usage is riglit — it is not usual for 
 
TEE BATTLE OF BADEN. 151 
 
 a young lady to be engaged to tAVO men at 
 once." 
 
 '^ You are merely insolent. I will wisli you 
 good-morning." 
 
 '' I am glad you understand my insinuation. 
 Explanations are so tedious. Wliere are you 
 going, Miss Bernard ? " 
 
 ''Home." 
 
 "" Then I must tell Eugene." 
 
 '' Tell him what you like." But she sat 
 down again. 
 
 '' You are engaged to Eugene ? " 
 
 '' Of course." 
 
 " You are also engaged to Spencer Had- 
 dington ? " 
 
 ''It's untrue; you know it's untrue. Are 
 you an old woman, to think a girl can't speak 
 to a man without being engaged to him ? " 
 
 " I must congratulate you on your liberality 
 of view, Miss Bernard. I had hardly given 
 you credit for it. But you know it isn't un- 
 true. You are under a promise to give Had- 
 dington your hand in three months : not, mark 
 you, a conditional promise — an absolute pro- 
 mise." 
 
 " That is not a happy guess." 
 
 "It's not a guess at all. No doubt you 
 mean it to be conditional. He understood, and 
 
152 FATHER STAFFORD. 
 
 you meant him to understand, it as an absolute 
 promise." 
 
 ^' How dare you accuse me of such 
 tilings ? " 
 
 ''Nothing short of absolute knowledge 
 would so far embolden me." 
 
 " Absolute knowledge ? " 
 
 '' Yes, last night." 
 
 Kate's rao'e carried her awav. She turned 
 on him in fury. 
 
 '^ You listened I " she cried. 
 
 ''Yes, I listened." 
 
 " Is that what a gentleman does ? " 
 
 " As a rule, it is not." 
 
 " I despise you for. a mean dastard! I have 
 no more to say to you." 
 
 " Come, Miss Bernard, let us be reasonable. 
 We are neither of us blameless." 
 
 " Do you think Eugene would listen to such 
 a tale ? And such a jDcrson ? " 
 
 " He might and he might not. But Had- 
 dington would." 
 
 " What could you tell him ? " 
 
 " I could tell him that you're making a fool 
 of him — keeping him dangling on till you have 
 arranged the other affair one way or the other. 
 What would he say then ? " 
 
 Kate knew that Haddington was already 
 
THE BATTLE OF BADEN. 153 
 
 tried to the uttermost. She knew what he 
 would say. 
 
 ^^You seel could — if you'll allow me the 
 metaphor — blow you out of the water." 
 
 ^^You daren't confess how you got the 
 knowledge." 
 
 ^^Oh, dear me, yes," said Ayre, smiling. 
 ''When you're opening a blind man's eyes he 
 doesn't ask after your moral character. You 
 must consider the situation on the hypothesis 
 that I am shameless." 
 
 Kate was not strong enough to carry on 
 the battle. She had fury, but not doggedness. 
 She burst into tears. 
 
 ' ' If I were doing all you say, whose fault 
 was it?" she sobbed. ''Didn't Eugene treat 
 me shamefully ? " 
 
 " If he flirted a little, it was in part your 
 fault. If you had flirted a little with Had- 
 dington, I should have said nothing. But this 
 — well, this is a little strong." 
 
 " I am a very unhappy girl," said Kate. 
 
 "It isn't as if you cared twopence for 
 Eugene, you know." 
 
 "No, I hate him!" said Kate, unwisely 
 yielding to anger again. 
 
 "I thought so. And you will do what I 
 ask?" 
 
154 FATHER STAFFORD. 
 
 '' If I don't, what will you do ? " 
 
 '' I shall write to Eugene. I shall see Had- 
 dington; and I shall see your aunt. I shall 
 tell them all that I know, and how I know it. 
 Come, Miss Bernard, don't be foolish. You 
 had better take Haddington." 
 
 '' I know it's all a plot. You're all fighting 
 in that little creature's interest." 
 
 '' Meaning ? " 
 
 ^' Claudia Territon. But if I can help it, 
 Eugene shall never marry her." 
 
 ^^ That's another point." 
 
 ^'His friend Father Stafford will have to 
 be considered there." 
 
 ^^Do not let us drift into that. Will you 
 write ? " 
 
 ^' To whom?" 
 
 ^'To Eugene." 
 
 Kate looked at him with a healthy hatred. 
 
 ^' And you will tell Haddington he needn't 
 wait those three months ? " 
 
 ^' I suppose you're proud of yourself now ? " 
 she broke out. ''First eavesdropj^ing, and then 
 bullying a girl ! " 
 
 '' I'm not at all proud of myself, and I am, 
 if you'd believe it, rather sorry for you." 
 
 '' I shall take care to let your friends know 
 my opinion of you." 
 
THE BATTLE OF BADEN. 155 
 
 '' Certainly — with any details you think 
 advisable. Have I your promise ? Is it any 
 use struggling any longer ? This scene is so 
 very unpleasant." 
 
 " Won't you give me a week ? " 
 
 ^'Not a day!" 
 
 Kate drew herself up with a sort of dig- 
 nity. 
 
 ^^I despise you and your schemes, and 
 Eugene Lane, and Claudia Territon, and all 
 your crew ! " she allowed herself to say. 
 
 ^' But you promise ? " 
 
 ^^Yes, I promise. There! Now, may I 
 go?" 
 
 Ayre courteously took off his hat, and 
 stood on one side, holding it in his hand and 
 bowing slightly as she swept indignantly by 
 him. 
 
 ''I'll give her a day to tell Haddington, 
 and three days to tell Eugene. Unless she 
 does, I must go through it all again, and it's 
 fatiguing. She's not a bad sort — fought well 
 when she was cornered. But I couldn't let 
 Eugene do it — I really couldn't. Ugh ! I'll 
 go back to breakfast." 
 
 Kate was cowed. She told Haddington. 
 Let us pass over that scene. She also wrote to 
 Eugene, addressing the letter to Millstead 
 
156 FATHER STAFFORD. 
 
 Manor. Eugene was not at Millstead Manor ; 
 and if Ayre had hastily assumed that his 
 'fiancee would be in possession of his address, 
 was it her business to undeceive him ? She 
 was by no means inclined to do one jot more 
 than fulfil the letter of her bond — whereby it 
 came to pass that Eugene did not receive the 
 letter for nearly two months, and did not 
 know of his recovered liberty all that time. 
 For Haddington, in his joy, easily promised 
 silence for a little while ; it seemed only 
 decent ; and even Ayre could not refuse to 
 agree with him that, though Eugene must be 
 told, nobody else ought to be until Eugene 
 had formally signified his assent to the lady's 
 transfer. Ayre could not take upon himself, 
 on his friend's behalf, the responsibility of 
 dispensing with this ceremony, though he was 
 sure it would be a mere ceremony. 
 
 As for Ayre himself, when his task was 
 done he straightway fled from Baden. He 
 was a hardened sinner, but he could not face 
 Mrs. Welman. 
 
 It was, however, plainly impossible to con- 
 fine the secret so strictly as to prevent it coming 
 to the knowledge of Lord Rickmansworth. In- 
 deed he had a right to know the issue, for he had 
 been a sharer in the design ; and accordingly, 
 
THE BATTLE OF BAEEN, 157 
 
 when he also left Baden and betook himself to 
 his own house to spend what was left of the 
 autumn, he carried locked in his heart the 
 news of the fresh development. On the whole, 
 he observed the injunction of silence urgently 
 laid upon him by Ayre with tolerable faithful- 
 ness. But there are limits to these things, and 
 it never entered Rickmans worth's head that his 
 sister was included among the persons who 
 were to remain in ignorance till the matter was 
 finally settled. He met Claudia at the family 
 re-union at Territon Park in the beginning of 
 October, and when she and he and Bob were 
 comfortably seated at dinner together, among 
 the first remarks he made — indeed, he was 
 brimming over with it — was — 
 
 ''I suppose you've heard the news, 
 Clau?" 
 
 What with one thing and another — packing 
 and unpacking, travelling, perhaps less obvious 
 troubles — Lady Claudia was in a state which, 
 if it manifested itself in a less attractive 
 person, might be called snappish. 
 
 '' I never hear any news," she answered 
 shortly. 
 
 " Well, here's some for you," replied the 
 Earl, grinning. '' Kate has chucked Eugene 
 
 over." 
 
158 FATHER STAFFORD. 
 
 ^' Nonsense ! " But she started and coloured, 
 all the same. 
 
 '' I suppose you were at Baden and saw it 
 all, and I wasn't ! " said Rickmansworth, with 
 ponderous satire. ^^ So we won't say any more 
 about it." 
 
 '' Well, what do you mean ? " 
 
 ^' No ; never mind ! It doesn't matter — all a 
 mistake. I'm always making some beastly 
 blunder — eh, Bob ? " and he winked gently 
 at his appreciative brother. 
 
 ^^ Yes, you're an ass, of course! " said Bob, 
 entering into the family humour. 
 
 '^ Grood thing I've got a sister to keep me 
 straight ! " pursued the Earl, who was greatly 
 amused with himself. ' ' Might have gone 
 about believing it, you know." 
 
 Claudia was annoyed. Brothers are annoy- 
 ing at times. 
 
 '' I don't see any fun in that," she said. 
 
 Lord Rickmansworth drank some beer 
 (beer was the Territon drink), and maintained 
 silence. 
 
 The butler came in with his satellite, 
 swept away the beer and the other impedi- 
 menta^ and put on dessert. The servants dis- 
 appeared, but silence still reigned unbroken. 
 
 Claudia arose, and went round to her 
 
TEE BATTLE OF BADEN. 159 
 
 brother's cliair. He was ostentatiously busy 
 with a large plum. 
 
 ^^ Eick, dear, won't you tell me ? " 
 
 ^^Tell you! Why, it's all nonsense, you 
 know." 
 
 '^ Rick, clear ! " said Claudia again, with her 
 arm round his neck. 
 
 He was going to carry on his jest a little 
 further, when he happened to look at her. 
 
 '^ Why, Clau, you look as if you were 
 almost " 
 
 ^' Never mind that," she said quickly. 
 ^'Oh! do tell me." 
 
 '^It is quite true. She's written breaking 
 it off, and has accepted Haddington. But it's 
 a secret, you know, till they've heard from 
 Eugene, at all events. Must hear in a day or 
 two." 
 
 ^' Is it really true ? " 
 
 '^ Of course it is." 
 
 Claudia kissed him, and suddenly ran out 
 of the room. 
 
 The brothers looked at one another. 
 
 '' I hope that's all right?" said the elder, 
 questioningly. 
 
 "I expect so," answered the younger. 
 '^ But, you see, you don't quite know where to 
 have Eugene." 
 
160 FATHER STAFFORD. 
 
 '^ I shall know wliere to have him, if neces- 
 sary." 
 
 '^ You'd better keep your hoof out of it, old 
 man," said Bob candidly. 
 
 Pursuing his train of thought, Rickmans- 
 worth went on : 
 
 ^^ Must have been rather a queer game at 
 Millstead ? " 
 
 '^ Yes. There was Eugene, and Kate, and 
 Claudia, and the j)arson, and old Ayre sticking 
 his long nose into it." 
 
 ' ' Trust old Ayre for that ; and is it a 
 case ? " 
 
 '^ Well, now Kate's out of it, I expect it is, 
 only you don't know where to have Eugene. 
 And there's the parson." 
 
 " Yes ; Ayre told us a bit about him. But 
 she doesn't care for him ? " 
 
 '^ She didn't tell him so — not by any 
 means," said Bob ; '' and I bet he's far gone on 
 her." 
 
 '' She can't take him." 
 
 '^ Good Lord ! no." 
 
 Though how they proposed to prevent it 
 did not appear. 
 
 '' Think Lane'll write to her ? " 
 
 ^^ He ought to, right ofP." 
 
 ^' Queer girl, ain't she ? " 
 
THL' BATTLE OF BADEN. 161 
 
 '' Deuced ! " 
 
 '^ Old Ayre ! I say, Bob, you should have 
 seen the old sinner at Baden." 
 
 ^'What? with Kate?" 
 
 ^' No ; the other business." 
 
 And they plunged into matters with which 
 we need not concern ourselves, and proceeded 
 to rend and destroy the character of that 
 most respectable middle-aged gentleman Sir 
 Roderick Ayre. The historian hastens to 
 add that their remarks were, as a rule, entirely 
 devoid of truth, with which general comment 
 we may leave them. 
 
 K 
 
162 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 MR. MOREWOOD IS MOVED TO INDIGNATION. 
 
 When Morewood was at work he painted 
 portraits, and painted them uncommonly well. 
 Of course he made his moan at being com- 
 pelled to spend all his time on this work. He 
 was not, equally of course, in any way com- 
 pelled, except in the sense that if you want to 
 make a large income you must earn it. This 
 is the sense in which many people are com- 
 pelled to do work, which they give you to 
 understand is not the most suited to their 
 genius, and it must be admitted that, although 
 their words are foolish, not to say insincere, 
 yet their deeds are sensible. There can be no 
 mistake about the income,' and there often is 
 about the genius. Morewood, whose eccentri- 
 city stopped short of his banking account, 
 painted his portraits like other people, and 
 only deviated into landscape for a month in 
 the sunmier, with the unfailing result of 
 furnishing a crop of Morewoodesque parodies 
 on Mother Nature that conclusively proved 
 the fates were wiser tlian the painter. 
 
 This year it so chanced that he chose the 
 
MB. MOBEWOOD IS INDIGNANT. 163 
 
 wilds of Exmoor for the scene of his outrages. 
 He settled down in a small inn and plied his 
 brush busily. Of course he did not paint any- 
 thing that the ordinary person cared to see, or 
 in the way in which it would appear to such 
 person. But he was greatly pleased with his 
 work ; and one day, as he threw himself down 
 on a bank at noon and got out his bread and 
 cheese, he was so carried away, being by 
 nature a conceited man, as to exclaim, 
 
 ^' My head of Stafford was the best head 
 done these hundred years ; and that's the best bit 
 of back-ground done these hundred and fifty!" 
 
 The frame of the phrase seemed familiar to 
 him as he uttered it, and he had just succeeded 
 in tracing it back to the putative parentage of 
 Lord Verulam, when, to his great astonishment, 
 he heard Stafford's voice from the top of the 
 bank, saying, 
 
 " As I am in your mind already, Mr. More- 
 wood, I feel my bodily appearance less of an 
 intrusion on your solitude." 
 
 '' Why, how in the world did you come 
 here ? " 
 
 The spot was within ten miles of the 
 Retreat, and part of Stafford's treatment for 
 himself consisted of long walks ; but he only 
 replied, 
 K 2 
 
164 FATHER STAFFORD. 
 
 ^' I am staying near here." 
 
 ^^ For health, eh?" 
 
 '^ Yes — for health." 
 
 ^^Wellj I'm glad to see you. How are 
 you ? You don't look very first-class." 
 
 Stafford came down the bank without 
 replying, and sat down. He was, in spite of it 
 being the country and very hot, dressed in his 
 usual black, and looked paler and thinner than 
 ever. 
 
 " Have some lunch ? " 
 
 Stafford smiled. 
 
 '^ There's only enough for one," he said. 
 
 ^^ Nonsense, man ! " 
 
 ^^No, really; I never take it." 
 
 A pause ensued. Stafford seemed to be 
 thinking, while Morewood was undoubtedly 
 eating. Presently, however, the latter said, 
 
 '' You left us rather suddenly at Millstead." 
 
 ''Yes." 
 
 ''Sent for?" 
 
 " You of all men know why I went, Mr. 
 Morewood." 
 
 " If youdon't mind my admitting it, I do. 
 But most people are so thin-skinned." 
 
 " I am not thin-skinned — not in that way. 
 Of course you know. You told me." 
 
 "That head?" 
 
ME. MOREWOOD IS INDIGNANT. 165 
 
 ^^ Yes ; you did me a service." 
 
 ^' Well, I think I did, and I'm glad to hear 
 you say so." 
 
 '' Why ? " 
 
 ^^ Shows you've come to your senses," said 
 Morewood, rapidly recovering from his lapse 
 into civility. 
 
 StafPord seemed willing, even anxious, to 
 pursue the subject. The regimen at the 
 Retreat was no doubt severe. 
 
 ^^ What do you mean by coming to my 
 senses ? " 
 
 ^' Why, doing what any man does when he 
 finds he's in love — barring a sound reason 
 against it." 
 
 ^' And that is?" 
 
 ^^ Try his luck. You needn't look at me. I've 
 tried my luck before now, and it was damned 
 bad luck. So here I am, a musty old curmud- 
 geon ; and there's Ayre, a snarling old cur ! " 
 
 ^^ I don't bore you about it ?" 
 
 ^^No, I like jawing." 
 
 ^^ Well then, I was going to say, of course 
 you don't know how it struck me." 
 
 ^'Yes, I do, but I don't think any the 
 better of it for that." 
 
 " You knew about my vow ? I suppose you 
 think that ? 
 
166 FATHER STAFFORD. 
 
 " Bosh ? Yes, I do. I think all vows bosh ; 
 but without asking you to agree to that, though 
 I think I did ask Bishop of Bellminster to, I 
 do say this one is utter bosh. Why, your own 
 people say so, don't they ? " 
 
 " My own people ? The people I suppose 
 you mean don't say so. I took a vow never to 
 marry — there were even more stringent terms 
 — but that's enough." 
 
 ^^Well?" 
 
 ^^A vow," continued Stafford, ^^ that you 
 won't marry till you want to is not the same as 
 a vow never to marry." 
 
 '' No. I think I could manage the first 
 sort." 
 
 " The first sort," said Stafford, with a 
 smile, "' is nowadays a popular compromise." 
 
 '^ I detest compromises. That's why I liked 
 
 you." 
 
 '' You're advising me to make one now." 
 ^' No, I advise you to throw up the whole 
 
 thino- 
 
 ?5 
 
 ' That's because you don't believe in any- 
 thing ? " 
 
 '' Yes, probably." 
 
 '^ Suppose you believed all I believe and 
 had done all I had ? " 
 
 '^ How do you mean ? " 
 
MR. MORE WOOD IS INDIGNANT. 167 
 
 ^^ You believed what a priest believes — In 
 heaven and hell — the gaining God and the 
 losing Him — in good and evil. Supposing you, 
 believing this, had given your life to God, and 
 made your vow to Him — had so proclaimed 
 before men, had so lived and worked and 
 striven ? Supposing you thought a broken 
 vow was death to your own soul and a trap 
 to the souls of others — a baseness, a treason, a 
 desertion — more cowardly than a soldier's flight 
 — as base as a thief's purloining — meaning to 
 you and those who had trusted you the death 
 of good and the triumj^h of evil ? " 
 
 He sat still, but his voice was raised in ra})id 
 and intense utterance ; he gazed before him 
 with starting eyes. 
 
 " All that," he went on, '' it meant to me-- 
 all that and more — the triumph of the beast in 
 me — passion and desire rampant — man forsaken 
 and God betrayed — my peace for ever gone, 
 my honour for ever stained. Can't you see ? 
 Can't you see ? " 
 
 Morewood rose and paced up and down. 
 
 " Now — now can you judge ? You say you 
 knew — did you know that ? " 
 
 " Do you still believe all that ? " 
 
 '^ Yes, all, and more than all. For a 
 moment — a day — perhaps a week, I drove 
 
168 FATHER STAFFORD. 
 
 myself to doubt. I tried to doubt — I rejoiced 
 in it. But I cannot. As God is above us, I 
 belieA^e all that." 
 
 ^' If you break tliis vow you think you will 
 be ?" 
 
 ''The creature I have said? Yes — and 
 worse." 
 
 '' I think the vow utter nonsense," said 
 More wood again. 
 
 " But if you thought as I think, then would 
 your love — yes, and would a girl's heart weigh 
 with you ? " 
 
 More wood stood still. 
 
 ''I can hardly realise it," he said, ''in a 
 man of your brain. But " 
 
 " Yes?" said Stafford, looking at him almost 
 as if he were amused, for his sudden outburst 
 had left him quite calm. 
 
 "If I believed that, I'd cut off my hand 
 rather than break the vow." 
 
 " I knew it," cried Stafford, " I knew it." 
 
 Morewood was touched with pity. 
 
 " If you're right," he said, " it won't be so 
 hard to you. You'll get over it." 
 
 "Get over it?" 
 
 "Yes; what you" believe will helj) you. 
 You've no choice, you know." 
 
 Stafford still wore a look of half-amusement. 
 
MB. MORE WOOD IS INDIGNANT. 169 
 
 ^' You have never felt belief ? " he asked. 
 
 '^ Not for many years. That's all gone." 
 
 ^' You think you have been in love ? " 
 
 ^^ Of course I have — half-a-dozen times." 
 
 ^'No more than the other," said Stafford 
 decisively. 
 
 Morewood was about to speak, but Stafford 
 went on quickly, 
 
 ^'I have told you what belief is — I coiddtell 
 you what love is ; you know no more the one 
 than the other. But why should I ? I doubt 
 if you would understand. You think you 
 couldn't be shocked. I should shock you. 
 Let it be. I think I could charm you too. 
 Let that be." 
 
 A pause followed. Stafford still sat motion- 
 less, but his face gradually changed from its 
 stern aspect to the look that Morewood had once 
 caught on his canvas. 
 
 ^' You're in love with her still ? " he 
 exclaimed. 
 
 ^' Still?" 
 
 ^' Yes. Haven't you conquered it ? I'm a 
 poor hand at preaching, but, by Jove ! if I 
 thought like you, I'd never think of the girl 
 
 again." 
 
 ''I mean to marry her," said Stafford quietly. 
 ^'I have chosen." 
 
170 FATHER STAFFORD. 
 
 More wood was in very truth shocked. But 
 Stafford's morals, after all, were not his care. 
 
 " Perhaps she won't have you," he sug- 
 gested at last, as though it were a happy 
 solution. 
 
 Stafford laughed outright. 
 
 "^ Then I could go back to my priesthood, 
 I suppose?" 
 
 '' Well — after a time." 
 
 ''As a burglar who is caught before his 
 robbery goes back to his trade. As if it 
 made the smallest difference — as if the result 
 mattered ! " 
 
 '' I suppose you are right there." 
 
 '^ Of course. But she will have me." 
 
 ''Do you think so ? " 
 
 " I don't doubt it. If I doubted it, I should 
 die." 
 
 "I doubt it." 
 
 " Pardon me ; I daresay you do." 
 
 " You don't want to talk about that ? " 
 
 " It isn't worth while. I no more doubt it 
 than that the sun shines. Well, Mr. Morewood, I 
 am obliged to you for hearing me out. I had 
 a curiosity to see how my resolution struck 
 you." 
 
 "If you have told me the truth, it strikes me 
 as devilish. I'm no saint; but if a man believes 
 
MB. MOREWOOD IS INDIGNANT. 171 
 
 in good, as you do, by God, lie oughtn't to 
 trample it under foot ! " 
 
 Stafford took no notice of him. He rose 
 and held out his hand. ^' I'm going back to 
 London to-morrow," he said, ''to wait till she 
 comes." 
 
 '' God help you ! " said Morewood, with a 
 sudden impulse. 
 
 ''I have no more to do with God," said 
 Stafford. 
 
 ''Then the devil help you, if you rely on 
 him ! " 
 
 " Don't be angry," he said, with a swift 
 return of his old sweet smile. " In old days I 
 should have liked your indignation. I still 
 like you for it. But I have made my 
 choice." 
 
 " ' Evil, be thou my good.' Is that it ? " 
 
 "Yes, if you like. Why talk about it any 
 more ? It is done." 
 
 He turned and walked away, leaving 
 Morewood alone to finish his forgotten lunch. 
 
 He could not get the thought of the man 
 out of his mind all day. It was with him as 
 he worked, and with him when he sat after 
 dinner in the parlour of his little inn, with his 
 pipe and whiskey and water. He was so full 
 of Stafford that he could not resist the impulse 
 
172 FATMEB STAFFORD. 
 
 to tell somebody else^ and at last he took a 
 sheet of j^aj^er. 
 
 '' I don't know if he's in town," he said, 
 "" but I'll chance it ; " and he began : 
 
 " Dear Ayre, 
 
 " By chance down here I met the parson. 
 He is mad. He painted for me the passion of belief — 
 which he said I hadn't and implied I couldn't feel. He 
 threatened to paint the passion of love, with the same 
 assertion and the same implication. He is convinced 
 that if he breaks his voav (you remember it, of course) 
 he'll be worse than Satan. Yet his face is set to break it. 
 You probably can't help it, and wouldn't if you could, 
 for you haven't heard him. He's going to London. Stop 
 him if you can before he gets to Claudia Territon. I 
 tell you his state of mind is hideous. 
 
 " Yours, 
 
 "A. MOREWOOD." 
 
 This somewhat incoherent letter reached 8ir 
 Roderick Ayre as he passed through London, 
 and tarried a day or two in early October. He 
 opened it, read it, and put it down on the 
 breakfast-table. Then he read it again, and 
 ejaculated, 
 
 '' Talk about madness! Why, because Staf- 
 ford's mad — if he is mad — must our friend the 
 painter go mad too ? ' Not that I see he is mad. 
 He's only been stirring up old Morewood's 
 dormant piety." 
 
ME. MORE WOOD IS INDIGNANT. 173 
 
 He lit his cigiar, and sat pondering the 
 letter. 
 
 '' Shall I try to stop him ? If Claudia and 
 Eugene have fixed up things it would be 
 charitable to prevent him making a fool of 
 himself. Why the deuce haven't I heard any- 
 thing from that young rascal ? Hallo ! who's 
 that ? " 
 
 He heard a voice outside, and the next 
 moment Eugene himself rushed in. 
 
 ^' Here you are!" he said. ^^ Thought I 
 should find you. You can't keep away from 
 this dirty old town." 
 
 '^ Where do you spring from ? " asked 
 Ayre. 
 
 ^^ Liverpool. I found the Continent slow, 
 so I went to America. Nothing moving there, 
 so I came back here. Can you give me break- 
 fast ? " 
 
 Ayre rang the bell, and ordered a new 
 breakfast ; as he did so he took up More wood's 
 letter and put it in his pocket. 
 
 Eugene went on talking with gay affec- 
 tation about his American experiences. Only 
 when he was through his breakfast did he 
 approach home topics. 
 
 ^' Well, how's everybody? " 
 
 Ayre waited for a more definite question. 
 
174 FATHER STAFFORD. 
 
 
 Seen the Territons lately ? " 
 Not very. Haven't you ? " 
 No. They weren't over there, you know. 
 Are they alive ? " 
 
 ''My young friend, are you trying to de- 
 ceive me ? You have heard from at least one 
 of them, if you haven't seen them." 
 
 '' I haven't — not a line. We don't corre- 
 spond : not comme il fautT 
 
 '' Oh, you haven't written to Claudia ? " 
 
 '' Of course not." 
 
 ''Why not?" 
 
 "Why should I?" 
 
 " Let us go back to the previous question. 
 Have you heard from Miss Bernard ? " 
 
 "Why probe my wounds? Not a single 
 line." 
 
 " Confound her impudence ! slie never 
 wrote ! " 
 
 " I don't know why she should. But in 
 case she ought, I'm bound to say she couldn't." 
 
 " Why not? She said she would ; she said 
 so to me." 
 
 " Slie couldn't have said so. You nmst 
 have misunderstood her. I left no address, 
 you know ; and I had no difficulty in eluding 
 interviewers — not being a prize fighter or a 
 minor poet." 
 
ME. MOREWOOD IS INDIGXANT. 175 
 
 Sir Hoderick smiled. 
 
 ^' Gad! I never thought of that. She held 
 me, after all." 
 
 '^ What on earth are you driving at ? " 
 
 ^' If there's one thing I hate more than 
 another, it's a narrative ; but I see I'm in for 
 it. Sit still and hold your tongue till I'm 
 through with it." 
 
 Eugene obeyed implicitly; and Ayre, not 
 without honest pride, recounted his Baden 
 triumph. 
 
 '' And unless she's bolder than I think, 
 you'll find a letter to that effect." 
 
 Eugene sat very quiet. 
 
 ^' Well, you don't seem over-pleased, after 
 all Wasn't I right?" 
 
 '' Quite right, old fellow. But, I say, is 
 she in love with Haddington ? " 
 
 '^ Ah, there's your beastly vanity ! I think 
 she is rather, you know, or she'd never have 
 given herself away so." 
 
 ^' Rum taste ! " said Eugene, whose relief at 
 his freedom was tempered by annoyance at 
 Kate's insensibility. ^'But I'm awfully obliged. 
 And, by Jove, Ayre, it's new life to me ! " 
 '' I thought so." 
 
 Eugene had got over his annoyance. A 
 sudden thought seemed to strike him. 
 
176 FATHER STAFFORD. 
 
 '' I say, does Claudia know ?" 
 
 '^ Rickmansworth's sure to have told her on 
 the spot. She must have known it a month ; 
 and what's more, she must think you've known 
 it a month." 
 
 ^^ Inference that the sooner I show up the 
 better ? " 
 
 ^^ Exactly. What, are you off now? Do 
 you know where she is ? " 
 
 ^^I shall send a wire to Territon Park. 
 Rick's sure to be there if she isn't, and I'll 
 go down and find out about it." 
 
 ^^ Wait a minute, will you? Have you 
 heard from your friend Stafford lately ? " 
 
 A shadow fell on Eugene's face 
 
 ^^No. But that's over. Must be, or he'd 
 never have bolted from Millstead." 
 
 Ayre was silent a moment. Morewood's 
 letter told him that Stafford had set out to go 
 to Claudia. What if he and Eugene met ? 
 Ayre had not much faith in the power of 
 friendship under such circumstances. 
 
 '' I think, on the whole, that I'd better 
 show you a letter I've had," he said. "" Mind 
 you, I take no responsibility for what you do." 
 
 '^ Nobody wants you to," said Eugene, with 
 a smile. ^'We all understand that's your 
 position." 
 
MB. MOBEWOOD IS IXDIGNANT. 17/ 
 
 Ayre flung the letter over to him, and he 
 read it. 
 
 ^'Oh, by Jove, this is the devil!" he ex- 
 claimed, jmnping off the writing-table, where 
 he had seated himself. 
 
 " So Morewood seems to think." 
 ^^ Poor old fellow ! I say, what shall I do ? 
 Poor old Stafford ! Fancy his cutting up like 
 this." 
 
 '' It's kind of you to pity him." 
 ^' AYhat do you mean ? I say, Ayre, you 
 don't think there is anything in it ? " 
 '^ Anything in it ? " 
 
 ^^ You don't think there's any chance that 
 Claudia likes him ? " 
 
 ^' Haven't an idea one way or the other," 
 * said Ayre rather disingenuously. 
 Eugene looked very perturbed. 
 ^^ You see," continued Ayre, ''it's pretty 
 cool of you to assume the girl is in love with 
 you when she knew you were engaged to some- 
 body else up till a month ago." 
 
 "Oh, damn it, yes!" groaned Eugene j 
 ''but she knew old Stafford had sworn not to 
 marry anybody." 
 
 " And she knew- — of course she knew — you 
 both wanted to marry her. I wonder what she 
 thought of both of you ! " 
 
 L 
 
178 FATHER STAFFOBD. 
 
 " She never had any idea of the sort about 
 him. About me she may have had an ink- 
 linof." 
 
 '^Just an inklings perhaps," assented Sir 
 Roderick. 
 
 ^^ The worst of it is, you know, if she does 
 like me, I shall feel a brute, cutting in now. 
 Old Stafford knew I was engaged too, you 
 know." 
 
 '^ It all serves you right," observed Ayre 
 comfortingly. ^^If you must get engaged at 
 all, why the deuce couldn't you pick the right 
 girl ? " 
 
 '' Fact is, I don't show up over well." 
 
 " You don't : that is the fact." 
 
 '- ' Ayre, I think I ought to let him have his 
 shot first." 
 
 '' Bosh ! why, as like as not she'd take him ! 
 If it struck her that he was chucking away his 
 immortal soul and all that for her sake, as like 
 as not she'd take him. Depend upon it, Eugene, 
 once she caught the idea of romantic sin, she'd 
 be gone — no girl could stand up against it." 
 
 ^' It is rather the sort of thing to catch 
 Claudia's fancy." 
 
 ^^ You cut in, my boy," continued Ayre. 
 ^^Friendship's all very v/ell -" 
 
 ^' Yes, ^ save in the office and affairs of 
 
MR. MORE WOOD IS INDIGXANT. 179 
 
 love ' ! " quoted- Eugene, with a smile of scorn 
 at himself. 
 
 ^'Well, you'd better make up your mind, 
 and don't mount stilts." 
 
 '' I'll go down and look round. But I can't 
 ask her without telling her or letting him tell 
 her." 
 
 ^^ Pooh ! she knows." 
 
 ^' She doesn't, I tell you." 
 
 '^ Then she ought to. You're a nice fellow ! 
 I slave and eavesdrop for you, and now you 
 won't do the rest yourself. What the deuce 
 do you all see. in that parson ? If I were your 
 age, and thought Claudia Territon would have 
 me, it Avould take a lot of parsons to put me on 
 one side." 
 
 ^' Poor old Charley!" said Eugene again. 
 ^' Ayre, he shall have his shot." 
 
 "Meanwhile, the girl's wondering if you 
 mean to throw her over. She's expected to 
 hear from you this last month. I tell vou 
 what : I expect Rick '11 kick you when you do 
 turn up." 
 
 " AYell, I shall go down and try to see her : 
 when I get there I must be guided by circum- 
 stances." 
 
 ''Very good. I expect the circumstances 
 will turn out to be such that you'll make love 
 l2 
 
180 FATHER STAFF OBI). 
 
 to Claudia and forget all about Stafford. If 
 you don't " 
 
 ^^What?" 
 
 ^^ You're an infernally cold-blooded con- 
 scientious young ruffian, and I never took you 
 for that before ! " 
 
 And Ayre, more perturbed about other 
 people's affairs than a man of his creed had any 
 business to be, returned to the Times as Eugene 
 went to pursue his errand. 
 
181 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 WAITING LADY CLAUDIA'S PLEASURE. 
 
 Stafford had 2Drobably jd^i^^^^cI his state of 
 mind in colours somewhat more startling than 
 the reality warranted. When a man is going- 
 to act against his conscience, there is a sort of 
 comfort in making out that the crime has 
 features of more striking depravity than an 
 unbiassed observer would detect ; the incli- 
 nation in this direction is increased when it is 
 a question of impressing others. Sin seems 
 commonplace if we give it no pomp and cir- 
 cumstance. No man was more free than 
 Stafford from any conscious hypocrisy or 
 posing, or from the inverted pride in immor- 
 ality that 'is often an affectation, but also 
 more often than we are willing to allow a real 
 disease of the mind. But in his interview with 
 Morewood he had yielded to the temptation of 
 giving a more dramatic setting and stronger 
 contrasts to his conviction and his action than 
 the actual inmost movement of his mind justi- 
 fied. It was true that he was determined to 
 set action and conviction in sharp antagonism, 
 and to follow an overpowering passion rather 
 
182 FATHER STAFFORD. 
 
 than a belief that he depicted as no less domi- 
 nant. Had his fierce words to Morewood re- 
 produced exactly what he felt, it maybe doubted 
 whether the resultant of two forces so opposite 
 and so equal could have been the ultimately 
 unwavering intention that now possessed him. 
 In truth, the aggressive strength of his belief 
 had been sap23ed from within. His efforts 
 after doubt, described by himself as entirely un- 
 successful, had not in reality been without result. 
 They had not issued in any radical or wholesale 
 alteration of his views. He was right in suppos- 
 ing that he would still have given as full intel- 
 lectual assent to all the dogmas of his creed 
 as formerly ; the balance of probability was 
 still in his view overwhelmingly in their 
 favour. But it had come to be a balance 
 of probability — not, of course, in the way in 
 which a man balances one account of an ordin- 
 ary transaction against another, and decides 
 out of his own experience of how things happen 
 —Stafford had not lost his mental discrimina- 
 tion so completely — but in the sense that he had 
 appealed to reason, and thus admitted the juris- 
 diction of reason in matters which he had 
 formerly proclaimed as outside the province 
 of that sort of reasoning that governs other 
 intellectual questions. In the result, he was 
 
WAITING LADY CLAUDIA'S PLEASURE. 183 
 
 left under the influence of a persuasion, not 
 under the dominion of a command ; and the 
 former failed to withstand an assault that the 
 latter might well have enabled him to repel. 
 He found himself able to forget what he 
 believed, though not to disbelieve it ; his 
 convictions could be j)ostponed, though not 
 expelled ; and in representing liis inind as the 
 present battle-ground of equal and opposite 
 forces, he had rather expressed what a 
 preacher would reveal as the inner truth of 
 his struggle than what he was himself con- 
 scious of as going on within him. It is likely 
 enough that his previous experience had made 
 him describe his own condition rather in the 
 rhetoric of the pulpit than in the duller 
 language of a psychological narrative. He 
 had certainly given Morewood one false im- 
 pression, or rather, perhajDS, Morewood had 
 drawn one false though natural inference for 
 himself. He thought of Stafford, and his letter 
 passed on the same view to Eugene, as of a 
 man suffering tortures that passed enduring. 
 Perhaps at the moment of their interview 
 such was the case : the dramatic picture 
 Stafford had drawn had for the moment 
 terrified afresh the man who drew it. His 
 normal state of mind, however, at this time 
 
184 FATHER STAFFORD. 
 
 was not imliappy. He was "wretclied now and 
 then by effort ; he was tortured by the sense 
 of sin when he remembered to be. But for 
 the most part he was too completely conquered 
 by his passion to do other than rejoice in it. 
 Possessed wholly by it, and full of an un- 
 doubting confidence that Claudia returned his 
 love, or needed only to realise it fully to 
 return it fully, he had silenced all opposition, 
 and went forth to his wooing with an exulta- 
 tion and a triumph that no transitory self- 
 judgments could greatly diminish. Life lay 
 before him, long and full and rich and sweet. 
 Let trouble be what it would, and right be 
 what it might, life and love were in his own 
 hands. The picture of a man giving up all 
 he thought worth having, driven in misery by 
 a force he could not resist to seek a remedy 
 that he despaired of gaining — a remedy which, 
 even if gained, would bring him nothing but 
 fresh pain — this picture, over which Eugene 
 was mourning in honest and perplexed friend- 
 ship, never took form as a true presentment 
 of himself to the man it was supposed to 
 embody. If Eugene had known this, he 
 would probably have felt less sympathy and 
 more rivalry, and would have assented to 
 Ayre's view of the situation rather than 
 
WAITING LADY CLAUDIA'S PLEASURE. 185 
 
 cloubtingly maintained his own. A man may 
 sometimes change himself more easily than 
 he can persuade his friends to recognise the 
 change. 
 
 Stafford left the Eetreat the morning after 
 his meeting with Morewood, feeling, he con- 
 fessed to himself, as if he had taken a 
 somewhat unfair advantage of its hospitality. 
 The result of his sojourn there, if known to 
 the Founder, might have been a trial of that 
 enthusiast's consistency to his principles, and 
 Stafford was glad to be allowed to depart, 
 as he had come, unquestioned. He came 
 straight to London, and turned at once to 
 the task of finding Claudia as soon as he 
 could. The most likely quarter for informa- 
 tion was, he thought, Eugene Laiie or his 
 mother ; and on the afternoon of his arrival 
 in town — on the same day, that is, as Eugene 
 had surprised Sir Roderick at breakfast — he 
 knocked at the door of Eugene's house in 
 Upper Berkeley Street, and inquired if 
 Eugene were at home. The man told him 
 that Mr. Lane had returned only that morn- 
 ing, from America he believed, and had 
 left the house an hour ago, on his way to 
 Territon Park ; he added that he believed 
 Mr. Lane had received a telegram from Lord 
 
186 FATHER STAFFORD. 
 
 Rickmansworth inviting him to go down. 
 Mrs. Lane was at Millstead Manor. 
 
 Stafford was annoyed at missing Eugene, 
 but not surprised or disturbed to hear of his 
 visit to Territon Park. Eugene did not strike 
 him as a possible rival. It may be doubted 
 whether in his present frame of mind he would 
 have looked on any man's rivalry as dangerous, 
 but of course he was entirely ignorant of the 
 new development of affairs, and supposed 
 Eugene to be still the affianced husband of 
 Miss Bernard. The only way the news affected 
 him was by dispelling the slight hope he had 
 entertained of finding that Claudia had already 
 returned to London. 
 
 He went back to his hotel, wrote a single 
 line to Eugene, asking him to tell him Claudia's 
 address, if he knew it, and then went for a 
 walk in the Park to pass the restless hours 
 away. It was a dull evening, and the earliest 
 of the fogs had settled on the devoted city. 
 A small drizzle of rain and the thickening 
 blackness had cleared the place of saunterers, 
 and Stafford, who prolonged his walk ap- 
 parently unconscious of his surroundings, had 
 the dreary path by the Serpentine nearly to 
 himself. As the fog grew denser and night 
 fell, the spot became a desert, and its chill 
 
WAITING LADY CLAUDIA'S PLEASURE. 187 
 
 ^loom began to be burdensome even to his 
 prepossessed mind. He stopped and gazed as 
 far as the mist let him over the water, which 
 lay smooth and motionless, like a sheet of 
 opaque glass ; the opj^osite bank was shrouded 
 from his view, and imagination allowed him 
 to think himself standing on the shore of 
 some almost boundless lake. Seen under such 
 conditions, the Serpentine put off the cheerful 
 vulgarity of its every-day aspect, and exer- 
 cised over the spirit of the watcher the same 
 fascination as a mountain tarn or some deep 
 quick-flowing stream. '' Come hither and be 
 at rest," it seemed to whisper, and Stafford, 
 responsive to the subtle invitation, for a 
 moment felt as if to die in the thought of 
 his mistress would be as sweet as to live in 
 her presence, and, it might be, less perilous. 
 At least he could be quiet there. His mind 
 travelled back to a bygone incident of his 
 parochial life, when he had found a wretched 
 shop-boy crouching by the water's edge, and 
 trying to screw his courage up for the final 
 plunge. It was a sordid little tragedy — an 
 honest lad was caught in the toils of some 
 slatternly Jezebel ; she had made him steal 
 for her, had spent his spoil, and then deserted 
 him for his ''pal" — his own familiar friend. 
 
188 FATHER STAFFORD. 
 
 Adrift on the world, beggared in character 
 and fortune, and sore to the heart, he had 
 wandered to the edge of the water, and 
 listened to its low-voiced promises of peace. 
 Stafford had stretched forth his hand to pluck 
 him from his doom and set him on his feet ; 
 he prevailed on the lad to go home in his 
 company, and the course of a few days proved 
 once again that despair inay be no more en- 
 during than delight. The incident had almost 
 faded from his memory, but it revived now as 
 he stood and looked on the water, and he 
 recognised with a start the depths to which he 
 was in danger of falling. The invitation of 
 the water could not draw him to it till he 
 knew Claudia's will. But if she failed him, 
 was not that the only thing left ? His desire 
 had swallowed up his life, and seemed to point 
 to death as the only alternative to its own 
 satisfaction. He contemplated this conclusion 
 not with the personal interest of a man who 
 thought he might he called to act upon it, 
 Claudia would rescue him from that, but with 
 a theoretical certainty that if by any chance 
 the staff on which he leant should break, he 
 would be in no other mind than that from 
 which he had rescued his miserable shop-boy. 
 Death for love's sake was held up in poetry 
 
WAITING LADY CLAUDIA'S PLEASURE. 189 
 
 and romance as a thing in some sort noble and 
 honourable ; as a man might die because he 
 could not save his country, so might he because 
 he could not please his lady-love. In old days, 
 Stafford, rigidly repressing his aesthetic delight 
 in such literature, had condemned its teaching 
 with half- angry contempt, and enough of his 
 former estimate of things remained to him to 
 prevent him regarding such a state of mind as 
 it pictured as a romantic elevation rather than 
 a hopeless degradation of a man's being. But 
 although he still condemned, now he under- 
 stood, if not the defence of such an attitude, at 
 least the existence of it. He might still think 
 it a folly ; it no longer appeared a figment. 
 A sin it was, no doubt, and a degradation, but 
 not an enormity or an absurdity ; and when he 
 tried again to fancy his life without Claudia, 
 he struggled in vain against the growing con- 
 viction that the pictures he had condemned as 
 caricatures of humanity had truth in them, and 
 that it might be his part to prove it. 
 
 With a shiver he turned away. Such 
 imaginings were not good for a man, nor the 
 place that bred them. He took the shortest 
 cut that led out of the Park and back to the 
 streets, where he found lights and peo23le, and 
 his thoughts, sensitive to the atmosphere round 
 
190 FATHER STAFFORD. 
 
 him, took a brighter hue. Why should he 
 trouble himself with what he would do if he 
 were deceived in Claudia ? He knew her too 
 well to doubt her. He had pushed aside all 
 obstacles to seek her, and she would fly to 
 meet him ; and he smiled at himself for con- 
 juring up fantasies of impossible misfortune, 
 only to enjoy the solace of laying them again 
 with the sweet confidence of love. He passed 
 the evening in the contemplation of his happi- 
 ness, awaiting Eugene's reply to his note 
 with impatience, but without disquiet. 
 
 This same letter was, however, the cause of 
 very serious disquiet to the recipient, more 
 especially as it came upon the top of another 
 troublesome occurrence. Rickmans worth had 
 welcomed Eugene to Territon Park with his 
 usual good nature and his usual absence of 
 effusion. In fact, he telegraphed that Eugene 
 could come if he liked, but he, Rickmansworth, 
 thought he'd find it beastly slow. Eugene 
 went, but found, to his dismay, that Claudia 
 was not there. Some mystery hung over her 
 non-appearance ; but he learned from Bob that 
 lier departure had been quite imjjromptu, 
 decided upon, in fact, after his telegram 
 was received, and that she was stayinor 
 some five miles off, at the Dower House, with 
 
WAITING LADY GLAUBIA'S PLEASURE. 191 
 
 her aunt, Lady Julia, who occuj)ied that resi- 
 dence. 
 
 Eugene was much annoyed and rather 
 uneasy. 
 
 " It looks as if she didn't want to see 
 me/' he said to Bob. 
 
 " It does, almost," replied Bob cheerfully. 
 "" Perhaps she don't." 
 
 ^^ Well, I'll go over and call to-morrow." 
 
 '' You can if you like. / should let her 
 alone." 
 
 Very likely Bob's words were the words of 
 wisdom, but when did a lover — even a toler- 
 ably cool-headed lover like Eugene — ever listen 
 to the words of wisdom ? He went to bed in 
 a bad temper. Then in the morning came 
 Stafford's letter, and of course Eugene had no 
 kind of doubt as to the meaning of it. Now, it 
 had been all very well to be magnanimous and 
 propose to give his friend a chance, when he 
 thought the pear was only waiting to drop 
 into his hand ; magnanimity appeared at once 
 safe and desirable, and there was no strong 
 motive to comiteract Eugene's love for Stafford. 
 Matters were rather different when it appeared 
 that the pear was not waiting to drop — when, 
 on the contrary, the pear had pointedly re- 
 moved itself from the hand of the plucker, and 
 
192 FATHER STAFFORD. 
 
 seemed, if one may vary the metaphor, to have 
 turned into a prickly pear. Eugene still be- 
 lieved that Claudia loved him ; but he saw 
 that she was stung by his apparent neglect, 
 and perhaps still more by the idea that in his 
 view he had only to ask at any time in order 
 to have. When ladies gather that impres- 
 sion, they think it due to their self-respect to 
 make themselves very unpleasant, and Eugene 
 did not feel sure how far this feelino^ mio:ht 
 not carry Claudia's quick, fiery nature, more 
 especially if she were offered a chance of 
 punishing Eugene by accepting a suitor who 
 was in many ways an object of her admira- 
 tion and regard, and came to her with 
 an indubitable halo of romance about him. 
 Eugene felt that his consideration for Stafford 
 might, perhaps, turn out to be more than a 
 graceful tribute to friendship : it might mean 
 a real sacrifice, a sacrifice of immense gravity ; 
 and he did what most people would do — he 
 re-considered the situation. 
 
 The matter was not, to his thinking, com- 
 plicated by anything approaching to an implied 
 pledge on his part. Of course Stafford had not 
 looked upon him as . a possible rival ; his en- 
 gagement to Kate Bernard had seemed to j^ut 
 him hors de combat. But he had been equally 
 
WAITING LADY CLAUDIA'S PLEASURE. 193 
 
 entitled to re^^ard Stafford as out of the runnino:: 
 for surely Stafford's vow was as binding as his 
 j^romise. They stood on an equality : neither 
 could rej)roach the other — that is to say, each 
 had matter of reproach against the other, but 
 his mouth was closed. There was then only 
 friendship — only the old bond that nothing 
 was to come between them. Did this bond 
 carry with it the obligation of standing on one 
 side in such a case as this ? Moreover, time 
 was precious. If he failed to seek out Claudia 
 that very day, she, knowing he was at Ter- 
 riton Park, would be justly aggrieved by a 
 new proof of indifference or disrespect. And 
 yet, if he were to wait for Stafford, that day 
 must go by without his visit. Eugene had 
 hitherto lived pleasantly by means of never 
 asking too much of himself, and in conse- 
 quence being always tolerably equal to his 
 own demands upon himself. Quixotism was 
 not to be expected of him. A nice observance 
 of honour was as much as he would be likely 
 to attain to ; and friendship would be satisfied 
 if he gave the doubtful points against himself. 
 
 He sat down after breakfast, and wrote a 
 long letter to Stafford. 
 
 After touching very lightly on Stafford's 
 position, and disclaiming not only any right to 
 
194 FATHER STAFFORD. 
 
 judge, but also any inclination to blame, he 
 went on to tell in some detail the change that 
 had occurred in his own situation, avowed his 
 intention of gaining Claudia's hand if he could, 
 clearly implied his knowledge that Stafford's 
 heart was set on the same object, and ended 
 with a warm declaration that the rivalry be- 
 tween them did not and should not alter his 
 love, and that if unsuccessful he could desire 
 to be beaten by no other man than Stafford. 
 lie added more words of friendship, told 
 Stafford that he should try his luck as soon as 
 might be, and that he had Rickmansworth's 
 authority to tell him that if he saw proper to 
 come down for the same purpose his coming 
 would not be regarded as an intrusion by the 
 master of the house. 
 
 Then he went and obtained the authority 
 he had pledged, and sent his servant up to 
 London with the letter, with instructions to 
 deliver it instantly into Stafford's own hand. 
 His distrust in the integrity of the postmaster's 
 daughter in such a matter prevented his send- 
 ing any further message by the wires than one 
 requesting Stafford to be at home to receive 
 his letter between twelve and one, when his 
 messenger might be exj)ected to arrive. 
 
 With a conscience clear enough for all 
 
WAITING LADY CLAUDIA'S PLEASURE. 195 
 
 jDractical purposes^ he then mounted his horse, 
 rode over to the Dower House, and sent in his 
 card to Lady Julia Territon. Lady Julia was 
 probably well posted up : at any rate, she re- 
 ceived him with kindness and without surprise, 
 and, after the proper amount of conversation, 
 told him she believed he would find Claudia 
 in the morning-room. Would he stay to 
 lunch ? and would he excuse her if she re- 
 turned to her occupations? Eugene prevari- 
 cated about the lunch, for the invitation was 
 obviously, though tacitly, a contingent one, and 
 conceded the lady's excuses with as respect- 
 able a show of sincerity as was to be expected. 
 Then he turned his steps to the morning-room, 
 declining announcement, and knocked at the 
 door. 
 
 '' Oh, come in," said Claudia, in a tone 
 that clearly implied: "If you won't let me 
 alone and stay outside." 
 
 '' Perhaps she doesn't know who it is,'' 
 thought Eugene, trying to comfort himself as 
 he opened the door. 
 
 M 2 
 
196 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 LADY CLAUDIA IS VEXED WITH MANKIND. 
 
 Of course she knew who it was, and her unm- 
 viting tone was a result of her knowledge. 
 We are yet awaiting a systematic treatise on 
 the psychology of woman: perhaps they will 
 some day be trained highly enough to analyse 
 themselves. Until this happens, we must wait ; 
 for no man unites the experience and the tem- 
 perament necessary. This could be proved, if 
 proof were required ; but, happily, proof of 
 assertions is not always required, and proof of 
 this one would lead us into a long digression, 
 bristling with disputable matter, and requiring 
 perhaps hardly less rare qualities than the task 
 of writing the treatise itself. The modest 
 scribe is reduced to telling how Claudia be- 
 haved, without pretending to tell why she be- 
 haved so, far less attempting to group her under 
 a general law. He is comforted in thus taking 
 a lower place by the thought that after all no- 
 body likes being grouped under general laws — 
 it is more interesting to be peculiar — and that 
 Claudia would have regarded such an attempt 
 with keen indignation ; and by the further 
 
LADY CLAUDIA IS VEXED. 197 
 
 thought that if you once start on general laws, 
 there's no telling where you will stop. The 
 moment you get yours nicely formulated, your 
 neighbour comes along with a wider one, and 
 reduces it to a subordinate proposition, or even 
 to the humiliating status of a mere example. 
 Now even philosophers lose their temper when 
 this occurs, while ordinary mortals resort to 
 abuse. These dangers and temptations may 
 be conscientiously, and shall be scrupulously, 
 avoided. 
 
 Eugene advanced into the room with all 
 the assurance he could muster : he could muster 
 a good deal, but he felt he needed it every 
 bit, for Claudia's aspect was not conciliatory. 
 She greeted him with civility, and in reply to 
 his remark that being in the neighbourhood he 
 thought he might as well call, expressed her 
 gratification and hinted her surprise at his re- 
 membering to do so. She then sat down, and 
 for ten minutes by the clock talked fluently 
 and resolutely about an extraordinary variety 
 of totally uninteresting things. Eugene used 
 this breathing-space to recover himself. He 
 said nothing, or next to nothing, but waited 
 patiently for Claudia to run down. She 
 struggled desperately against exhaustion ; but 
 at last she could not avoid a pause. Eugene's 
 
198 FATHER STAFFORD. 
 
 generalship had foreseen that this opening was 
 inevitable. Like Fabius he waited, and like 
 Fabius he struck. 
 
 '' I have been so completely out of the 
 world — out of my own world — for the last 
 month that I know nothing. Didn't even have 
 my letters sent on." 
 
 ^' Fancy ! " said Lady Claudia. 
 
 '' I wish I had nov/." 
 
 Claudia was meant to say ''Why?" She 
 didn't, so he had to make the connection for 
 himself. 
 
 " I fomid one letter waiting for me that 
 was most important." 
 
 ''Yes?" said Claudia, with polite but ob- 
 viously fatigued interest. 
 
 " It was from Miss Bernard." 
 
 " Fancy not having her letters sent on ! " 
 
 " You know what was in that letter. Lady 
 Claudia?" 
 
 " Oh, yes ; Rickmansworth told me. I don't 
 know if he ought to have. I am so very sorry, 
 Mr. Lane." 
 
 ' ' From not getting the letter, I didn't know 
 for a month that I was free. I needn't shrink 
 from calling it freedom." 
 
 ' ' As you were in America, it couldn't make 
 much difference whether you knew or not." 
 
LADY CLAUDIA LS VEXED. 199 
 
 ^^ I want you to know that I didn't know." 
 
 '^ Really you are very kind." 
 
 ^' I was afraid you would think " 
 
 ''Pray what?" asked Claudia in suspiciously 
 calm tones. 
 
 Eugene was conscious he was not putting 
 it in the happiest possible way ; however, there 
 was nothing for it but to go on now. 
 
 " Why, that — why, Claudia, that I shouldn't 
 rush to you the moment I was free." 
 
 Claudia was sitting on a sofa, and as he 
 said this Eugene came up and leant his hands 
 on the back of it. He thought he had done it 
 rather well at last. To his astonishment, she 
 leapt up. 
 
 " This is too much ! " she cried. 
 
 ^' Why, what ? " exclaimed poor Eugene. 
 
 " To come and tell me to my face that 
 you're afraid I've been crvins^ for you for a 
 month past I " 
 
 " Of course I don't mean " 
 
 '^ Do I look very ill and worn ? " demanded 
 Claudia, with elaborate sarcasm. "Have I 
 faded away ? Make your mind easy, Mr. Lane. 
 You will not have another girl's death at your 
 door." 
 
 Eugene so far forgot himself as to stare at 
 the ceiling and exclaim, " Good God ! " 
 
200 FATHER STAFFORD. 
 
 This appeared to add new fuel to the 
 flame. 
 
 '^ You come and tell a girl — all but in words 
 tell her — she was dying for love of you when 
 you were engaged to another girl : dying to 
 hear from you : dying to have you propose to 
 her ! And when she's mildly indignant you 
 use some profane expression, just as if you 
 had stated the most ordinary facts in the 
 world ! I am infinitely obliged for ^^our com- 
 passion, Mr. Lane." 
 
 '' I meant nothing of the sort. I only meant 
 that considering what had passed between 
 us " 
 
 '^ Passed between us ? " 
 
 '' Well, yes, at Millstead, you know." 
 
 '' Are you going to tell me I said anything 
 then, when I knew you were engaged to Kate ? 
 I suppose you will stop short of that ? " 
 
 Eugene wisely abandoned this line of argu- 
 ment. After all, most of the talking had been 
 on his side. 
 
 '' Why will you quarrel, Claudia? I came 
 here in as humble a frame of mind as ever man 
 came in." 
 
 ^^ Your humility, Mr. Lane, is a peculiar 
 quality." 
 
 '' Won't you listen to me ?" 
 
LADY CLAUDIA IS VEXED. 201 
 
 '' Have I refused to listen ? But no, I don't 
 want to listen noAv. You have made me too 
 angry." 
 
 '' Oh, but do listen just a little " 
 
 Claudia suddenly changed her tone — indeed, 
 her whole demeanour. 
 
 ^' Not to-day," she said beseechingly, ^4'eally 
 not to-day. I won't tell you why, but not to- 
 day." 
 
 '' No time like the present," suggested 
 Eugene. 
 
 ^' Do you know there is something you don't 
 allow for in women ? " 
 
 '' So it seems. What is that ? " 
 
 ^' Just a little pride. No, I will not listen 
 to you ! " she added, with an imperious little 
 stamp of her foot, and a relapse into hostility. 
 
 ^' May I come again ? " 
 
 ''I don't know." 
 
 Eugene was not a patient man. He allowed 
 himself a shrug of the shoulders. 
 
 ''• Are you about to congratulate me on 
 having ' bagged ' another ? " 
 
 ^^ You're entirely hopeless to-day, and en- 
 tirely charming! " he said, ''li any girl but 
 you had treated me like this, I'd never come 
 near her again." 
 
 Claudia looked daggers. 
 
202 FATHER STAFFORD. 
 
 '' Pray don't make me an exception to yom^ 
 usual rule." 
 
 ^ ' As it is, I shall go away now and come 
 back presently. You may then at least listen 
 to me. That's all I've asked you to do so far." 
 
 ' ' I am bound to do that. I will some day. 
 But do go now." 
 
 ^^ I will directly; but I want to speak to 
 you about something else." 
 
 '' Anything else in the world ! And on any 
 other subject I will be — charming — to you. 
 Sit down. What is it?" 
 
 '' It's about Stafford." 
 
 ^^ Your friend Father Stafford ? What about 
 him ? " 
 
 '' He's coming down here." 
 
 ^' Oh, how nice ! It will be a pleasant ref — 
 
 resource." 
 
 Eugene smiled. 
 
 '^ Don't mind saying what you mean — or 
 even what you don't mean ; that generally 
 gives people greater pleasure." 
 
 ^' You're making me angry again." 
 
 '^ But what do you think he's coming for?" 
 
 ^^ To see you, I suppose." 
 
 ^' On the contrary. To see you." 
 
 ^' Pray don't be absurd." 
 
 ^^It's gospel truth, and very serious. He 
 
LADY CLAUDIA IS VEXED. 203 
 
 is in loYG with you. No — wait, please. You 
 must forgive me speaking of it. But you 
 ought to know." 
 
 ^'Father Stafford?" 
 
 ''No other." 
 
 '' But he — he's not going to marry anybody. 
 He's taken a vow." 
 
 '' Yes. He's going to break it — if you'll 
 help him." 
 
 ''You wouldn't make fun of this. Is it 
 true ? " 
 
 " Yes, it's desperately true. Now, I'm not 
 going to tell you any more, or say anything 
 more about it. He'll come and plead his own 
 cause. If you'd treated me differently, I 
 miglit have stopped him. As it is, he must 
 
 come now." 
 
 " Why do you assume I don't want him to 
 come ? " 
 
 " I assume nothing. I don't know whether 
 you'll make him happy or treat him as you've 
 treated me." 
 
 " I shan't treat him as I've treated you. 
 Eugene, is he — is he very unhappy about it ? " 
 
 "Yes, poor devil!" said Eugene bitterly. 
 " He's ready to give up this world and the next 
 for you." 
 
 " You think that strange ? " 
 
204 FATHER STAFFORD. 
 
 Eugene shook his head with a smile. 
 
 " A man had given all other bliss 
 And all his worldly worth," 
 
 he quoted. ^^ Stafford would give more than 
 that. Good-morning, Lady Claudia.'' 
 
 "• Good-bye," she said. '' When is he 
 coming ? " 
 
 "^ To-day, I expect." 
 
 " Thank you." 
 
 '' Claudia, if you take him, you'll let me 
 know ? " 
 
 ^' Yes, yes." 
 
 She seemed so absent and troubled that he 
 left her without more, and made his way to his 
 horse and down the drive, without giving a 
 thought to the contingent lunch. 
 
 ^' She'll marry me if she doesn't marry him," 
 he thought. '^ But, I say, I did make rather 
 an ass of myself ! " And he laughed gently and 
 ruefully over Claudia's wrath and his own 
 method of wooing. He would have laughed 
 much the same gentle and rueful laugh over his 
 own hanging, had such an unreasonable acci- 
 dent befallen him. 
 
 So far as the main subject of the interview 
 was concerned, Claudia was well pleased with 
 herself. Her indignation had responded very 
 
LADY CLAUDIA IS VEXED. 205 
 
 satisfactorily to her call upon it, and had 
 enabled her to work off on Eugene her resent- 
 ment, not only for his own sins, but also for 
 annoyances for which he could not fairly be 
 held responsible. A patient lover must be a 
 most valuable safety-valve. And although 
 Eugene was not the most patient of his kind, 
 Claudia did not think that she had put more 
 upon him than he was able to bear — certainly 
 not more than he deserved to bear. She would 
 have dearly loved tlie luxury of refusing him, 
 and although she had not been able to make up 
 her mind to this extreme measure, she had, at 
 least, succeeded in infusing a spice of difficulty 
 into his wooing. She was so content with the 
 aspect of affairs in this direction that it did not 
 long detain her thoughts, and she found herself 
 pondering more on the disclosure Eugene had 
 made of Stafford's feelings than on his revela- 
 tion of his own. It is difficult, without the aid 
 of subtle distinctions, to say exactly what 
 degree of surprise she felt at the news. She 
 must, no doubt, have seen that Stafford was 
 greatly attracted to her, and probably she 
 would have felt that the description of his state 
 of mind as that of a man in love only erred to 
 the extent that a general description must err 
 when applied to a particular case. But she was 
 
206 FATHER STAFFORD. 
 
 both surprised and disturbed at hearing that 
 Stafford intended to act upon his feelings, and 
 the very fact of her power having overcome 
 him did him evil service in her thoughts. The 
 secret of his charm for her lay exactly in the 
 attitude of renunciation tliat he was now 
 abandoning. She had been half inclined to 
 fall in love with him just because there was no 
 question of his falling in love with her. Her 
 feelings towards Eugene, which lay deeper 
 than she confessed, had prevented her actually 
 losing her heart, or doing more than contem- 
 plate the picture of her romantic passion, 
 banned by all manner of awful sanctions, as a 
 not uninteresting possibility. By abandoning 
 his position Stafford abandoned one great 
 source of strength. On the other hand, he no 
 doubt gained something. Claudia was not 
 insensible to that as23ect of the case which 
 Ayre had apprehended would influence her so 
 powerfully. She did perceive the halo of 
 romance ; and the idea of an Ajax defying 
 heavenly lightning for her sake had its 
 attractiveness. But Ayre, reasoning, as a man 
 is prone and perhaps obliged to do, from him- 
 self to another, had omitted to take account of 
 a factor in Claudia's mind about the existence 
 of which, even if it had been suggested to him. 
 
LADY CLAUDIA 18 VEXED. 207 
 
 he would have been profoundly sceptical. Ay re 
 had never been able, or at least never given 
 himself the trouble, to understand how real a 
 thing Stafford's vow had been to him, and 
 what a struggle was necessary before he could 
 disregard it. He would have been still more 
 at a loss to appreciate the force which the same 
 vow exercised over Claudia. Stafford himself 
 had strengthened this feeling in her. Although 
 the subject of celibacy, and celibacy by oath, 
 had not been discussed openly between them, 
 yet in their numerous conversations Stafford 
 had not failed to respond to her sympathetic 
 invitations so far as to give himself full liberty 
 in descanting on the excellences of the life 
 he had chosen for himself. Every word he had 
 spoken in its praise now rose to condemn its 
 betrayal. And Claudia, who had been brought 
 up in entire removal from the spirit which 
 made Ayre and Eugene treat Stafford's vow as 
 one of the picturesque indiscretions of devotion, 
 was unable to look upon the breaking of it in 
 any other light than that of a falsehood and 
 an act of treachery. Religion was to her a 
 series of definite commands, and although her 
 temperament was not such as enabled or led 
 her to penetrate beneath the commands to the 
 reason of them, or emboldened her to rely on 
 
208 FATHER STAFFORD, 
 
 the latter rather than the former, she had never 
 wavered in the view that at least these com- 
 mands may and should be observed, and that, 
 above all, by a man whose ^^rofession it was to 
 inculcate them. This much of genuine dis- 
 approval of Stafford's conduct she undoubtedly 
 felt ; and there it would be pleasant to leave 
 the matter. But in the commanding interest 
 of truth it must be added that this genuine 
 disapproval was, unconsciously perhaps to 
 herself, strengthened by more mundane feel- 
 ings, which would, if analysed, have been 
 resolved into a sense of resentment against 
 Stafford. He had come to her as it were 
 under false pretences. Relying on his peculiar 
 position, she had allowed herself, without 
 scruple, a freedom and expansion in her rela- 
 tions towards him that she would have con- 
 demned, though perhaps not abstained from, 
 had he stood exactly where other men stood ; 
 and she felt that if charged with encouraging 
 him and fostering a delusion in his mind, her 
 defence, though in reality a good one, was not 
 one which the world would accept as justifying 
 her. She could not openly plead that she had 
 flirted with him, because she had never thought 
 he would flirt with her, or allowed him to 
 believe she entertained a deeper regard for him 
 
LADY CLAUDIA IS VEXED. 209 
 
 than she did because he could be supposed 
 to feel none for her. Yet that was the trutli ; 
 and 23erhaj)s it was a good defence. And 
 Claudia was resentful because she could not 
 defend herself by using it, and her resentment 
 settled u|)on the ultimate cause of her per- 
 plexities. 
 
 When Eugene got back to Territon Park he 
 was received by the brothers with unaffected 
 interest. They were passing the morning in 
 an exhaustive medical inspection of the dogs, 
 but they left even this engrossing occu2:)ation, 
 and sauntered out to meet him. 
 
 ^^Well, what luck?" asked Hickmans- 
 worth. 
 
 " The debate is adjourned," answered 
 Eugene. 
 
 ^' Did Clau make herself agreeable ? " 
 
 ^^ Well, no; in fact, she made herself as 
 disagreeable as she knew how." 
 
 '^ Raised Cain, did she?" inquired Bob 
 sympathetically. 
 
 " Something of the sort : but I think it's all 
 right." 
 
 " You play up, old man," said Bob. 
 
 '^ Well, but what the devil are we to do 
 with this parson ? " Lord Rickmansworth de- 
 manded. '' He'll be here after lunch, you 
 
 N 
 
210 FATHER STAFFORD. 
 
 know. You are an ass, Eugene, to bring him 
 down ! " 
 
 ^' I'm not quite sure, you know, that he 
 won't persuade her." 
 
 '' Why didn't you settle it this morning ? " 
 
 ^^My dear fellow, she was impossible this 
 morning." 
 
 " Oh, bosh ! " said his lordship. '' Now, I'll 
 tell you what you ought to have done " 
 
 " Oh, shut up, Rick ! What do you know 
 about it ? Stafford must try his luck, if he 
 likes. Don't you fellows bother about him. 
 I'll see him when he comes down." 
 
 '' Would it be infernally uncivil if we 
 happened to be out in the tandem ? " suggested 
 Rickm an s worth. 
 
 ^^ I expect he'd be rather glad." 
 
 " Then we will be out in the tandem. If 
 you kill him, or the other way, just do it out- 
 side, will you, so as not to make a mess ? Now 
 we'll lunch, and then. Bob, my boy, we'll 
 evaporate." 
 
 It was about three o'clock when Stafford 
 arrived. He had managed to catch the 1.30 
 from London, and must have started the 
 moment he had read his letter. He was shown 
 into the bilHard-room, where Eugene was rest- 
 lessly smoking a cigar. 
 
LADY CLAUDIA IS VEXED. 21] 
 
 He came swiftly up, and held out his hand, 
 
 lO*. 
 
 saying, 
 
 '^ This is like you, my dear old fellow. 
 Not another man in England would have 
 done it." 
 
 '^ Nonsense I " replied Eugene. '^ I ought to 
 have done more." 
 
 '^More? How?" 
 
 ^'I ought to have waited till you came 
 before I went to see her." 
 
 '' No, no ; that would have been too 
 much." 
 
 He was quite calm and cool ; apparently 
 there was nothing on his mind, and he spoke 
 of Eugene's visit as if it concerned him little. 
 
 " I daresay you're surprised at all this," he 
 continued, '^ but I can't talk about that now. 
 It would upset me again. Besides, there's no 
 time." 
 
 ^' Why no time?" 
 
 ^^ I must go straight over and see her." 
 
 ^' My dear Charley, are you set on going ? " 
 
 '^ Of course. I came for that pm-pose. 
 You know how sorry I am we are rivals ; but I 
 agree with what you said — we needn't be 
 enemies." 
 
 ^' It wasn't that I meant. But you don't 
 ask how I fared." 
 
 N 2 
 
212 FATHER STAFFORD. 
 
 " Well, I was expecting you would tell me, 
 if there was anything to tell." 
 
 '^ I went, you know, to ask her to be my 
 wife." 
 
 Stafford nodded. 
 
 ''Well, did you?" 
 
 '' No, not exactly." 
 
 ''I thought not." 
 
 " I tried to — I mean I wasn't kept back by 
 loyalty to you — you mustn't think that. But 
 she wouldn't let me." 
 
 ''I thought she wouldn't." 
 
 Euo^ene beo^an to understand his state of 
 mind. In another man such confidence would 
 have made him angry ; but he had only pity 
 for Stafford. 
 
 '' I must try and make him understand," he 
 thought. 
 
 "Charley," he began, ''I don't think you 
 quite follow, and it's not very easy to explain. 
 She didn't refuse me." 
 
 '' Well, no, if you didn't ask," said Stafford, 
 with a slight smile. 
 
 '' And she didn't stop me in — in that way. 
 Look here, old fellow : it's no use beating about 
 the bush. I believe she means to have me." 
 
 Stafford said nothing. 
 
 '' But I don't say that to put you off going, 
 
LADY CLAUDIA IS VEXED. 213 
 
 because I'm not sure. But I believe she does. 
 And you ought to know what I think. 1 tell 
 you all I know." 
 
 " Do you tell me not to go ? " 
 
 ^' I can't do that. I only tell you what I 
 believe." 
 
 '^ She said nothing of the sort ? " 
 
 ^'No — nothing explicit." 
 
 ^ ' Merely declined to listen ? ' ' 
 
 '' Yes — but in a way." 
 
 ^'My dear Eugene, aren't you deceiving 
 yourself ? ' ' 
 
 "I think not. I think, you know, you're 
 deceiving yourself." 
 
 They looked at one another, and suddenly 
 both men smiled. 
 
 ^'I want to spare you," said Eugene; 
 ^^but it sounds a little absurd." 
 
 '' The sooner I go the better," said Stafford. 
 ' ' I must tell you, old fellow, I go in confident 
 hope. If I am wrong " 
 
 "Yes?" 
 
 ''Everything is over I Would you feel 
 that?" 
 
 Eugene was always honest with Stafford. 
 He searched his heart. 
 
 " I should be cut up," he said. " But no — 
 not that." 
 
214 FATHER STAFFORD. 
 
 Stafford smiled sadly. 
 
 '^ How I wish I could do things by halves! " 
 he exclaimed. 
 
 ^' You will come back ? " 
 
 ^^I'll leave a line for you as I go by. 
 Whatever happens, you have treated me well." 
 
 ^' Good-bye, old man. I can't say good 
 luck. When shall I see you ? " 
 
 '^ That depends/' said Stafford. 
 
 Eugene showed him the road to the Dower 
 House, and he set out at a brisk walk. 
 
215 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 A lover's fate and a friend's counsel. 
 
 It was about half-past three when Stafford 
 left Territon Park ; about tlie same hour Claudia 
 sallied forth from the Dower House to take 
 her constitutional. When two people start to 
 walk at the same time from opposite ends of 
 the same road, barring accidents, they meet 
 somewhere about the middle. In accordance 
 with this law, when Claudia was about two miles 
 from home, walking along the path through 
 the dense woods of Territon Park, she saw 
 Stafford coming towards her. There were no 
 means of escape, and with a sigh of resignation 
 she sat down on a rustic seat and awaited 
 his approach. He saw her as soon as she saw 
 him, and came up to her without any embar- 
 rassment. 
 
 '' 1 am lucky," he said. " 1 was going over 
 to see you." 
 
 Claudia had given some thought to this inter- 
 view, and had determined on her best course. 
 
 " Mr. Lane told me you were coming." 
 
 '' Dear old Eugene ! " 
 
 ^' But I hoped you would not." 
 
216 FATHER STAFFORD. 
 
 ^^ Don't let us begin at the end. I haven't 
 seen you since I left Mills tead. Were you 
 surprised at my going ? " 
 
 " I was rather surprised at the way you 
 went." 
 
 '^ I thought you would understand it. Now, 
 honestly, didn't you ? " 
 
 '' Perhaps I did." 
 
 " I thought so. You had seen what I only 
 saw that very night. You understood " 
 
 '' Please, Father Stafford " 
 
 '' Say Mr. Stafford." 
 
 '' No. I know you as Father Stafford, and 
 I like that best." 
 
 '^ As you will — for the present. You knew 
 how I stood. You saw I loved you — no, I am 
 going on — and yet felt myself bound not to 
 tell you." 
 
 '^ I saw nothing of the kind. It never 
 entered my head." 
 
 ''Claudia, is it possible? Did you never 
 think of it ? " 
 
 '' As nothing more than a possibility — and 
 a very unhappy possibility." 
 
 '' Why unhappy ? " he asked, and his voice 
 was very tender. 
 
 '' To begin with, you could never love any- 
 one." 
 
A LOVER'S FATE. 217 
 
 ^^ I have swept all that on one side. That 
 
 is over." 
 
 ^' How can it be over ? You had sworn." 
 '' Yes ; but it is over." 
 ^^ Dare you break yoiu* vow ? " 
 ^^ If I dare, who else dare question me ? 
 Have I not counted the cost ? " 
 ^' Nothino^ can make it rif^ht." 
 ^' Why talk of that ? It is my sin and my 
 
 concern." 
 
 '^ You destroy all my esteem for you." 
 
 ^^ I ask for love, not for esteem. Esteem 
 
 between you and me ! I love you more than 
 
 all the world." 
 
 ''Ah! don't say that ! " 
 
 '' Yes, more than my soul. And you talk 
 
 of esteem ! Ah ! you don't know what a man's 
 
 love is." 
 
 '' I never thought of you as making love." 
 '^ I think now of nothing else. Why 
 
 should I trouble you with my struggles ? Now 
 
 I am free to love — and you, Claudia, are free 
 
 to return my love." 
 
 '' Did you think I was in love with you ? " 
 " Yes," said Stafford. '' But you knew my 
 
 promise, and did not let yourself see your own 
 
 feelings. Ah, Claudia ! if it is only the 
 
 promise ! " 
 
218 FATHER STAFFORD. 
 
 ^' It isn't only the promise. You have 
 no right to speak like that. I should never 
 have done as I did if I'd even thought of you 
 like that." 
 
 ^' What do you mean by saying it's not only 
 the promise ? " 
 
 ^' Why, that I don't love you — I never did 
 — oh, what a wretched thing! " And she rose 
 and paced about, clasping her hands. 
 
 Stafford was very pale now, but very quiet. 
 
 '' You never loved me ? " 
 
 '' No." 
 
 ^' But you will. You must, when you know 
 my love " 
 
 ^^No." 
 
 ^' Yes, but you will. Let me tell you what 
 you are " 
 
 ^'No, I never can." 
 
 ^^s it true? Why?" 
 
 '' Because — oh ! don't you see ? '' 
 
 "No. Wasn't it because you loved me that 
 you wouldn't let Eugene speak? " 
 
 "No, no, no ! " 
 
 "Claudia," he cried, clasping her wrist, 
 " were you playing with him ? " 
 
 No answer seemed j^ossible but the truth. 
 
 "Yes," she said, bowing her head. 
 
 " And playing with me? " 
 
A LOVER'S FATE. 219 
 
 ^' No, that's unjust. I never did. I 
 thought ' ' 
 
 " You thought I was beyond hurt ? " 
 
 '' I suppose so. You set up to be." 
 
 ^^Yes, I set up to be," he said bitterly. 
 ^^And the truth — in God's name let us have 
 truth — is that you love him ? " 
 
 ^^Have you no pity ? Why do you press 
 me ? " 
 
 ' ^ I will not press you ; God forbid I should 
 trouble you ! But is this the end ? " 
 
 ^^Yes." 
 
 '^ Is it final — no hope? Think what it 
 means to me." 
 
 ''If I do care for Mr. Lane, is this friendly 
 to him?" 
 
 ''I am beyond friendship, as I am beyond 
 conscience. Claudia, turn to me. No man 
 ever loved as I do." 
 
 ''I can't help it," she said; ''I can't help 
 it!" 
 
 Stafford sank down on the seat and sat there 
 for a moment without speaking. Claudia was 
 awed at the look on his face. 
 
 '' Don't look like that ! " she cried. '' You 
 look like a man lost." 
 
 ''Yes, lost!" he echoed. "All lost— all 
 lost — and for nothing ! " 
 
220 FATHER STAFFORD. 
 
 Silence followed for a long time. Then he 
 roused himself, and looked at her. Claudia's 
 eyes were full of tears. 
 
 ^^It's not your fault, my sweet lady," he 
 said gently. '' You are pure and bright and 
 beautiful, as you ever were, and I have raved 
 and frightened you. Well, I will go." 
 
 " Go where ? " 
 
 '^ Where ? I don't know yet." 
 
 '^I am so very, very sorry. But you must 
 try — you must forget about it." 
 
 He smiled. 
 
 " Yes, I must forget about it." 
 
 *^ You will be yourself again — your old 
 self — not weak like this, but giving others 
 strength." 
 
 '' Yes," he said again, humouring her. 
 
 '' Surely you can do it — you who had such 
 strength. And don't think hardly of me." 
 
 '^ I think of you as I used to think of God," 
 he said ; and bent and kissed her hand. 
 
 '^ Oh, hush ! " she cried. '' Pray don't ! " 
 
 He kissed her hand once again, and then 
 straightened himself, and said, 
 
 ' ' Now I am going. You must forget — 
 or remember Millstead, not Territon. And 
 I " 
 
 u 
 
 Yes, and you ? " 
 
A LOVER'S FATE. 221 
 
 ^^ I will go too where I may find forgetful- 
 ness. Good-bye." 
 
 ^' Good-bye," said Claudia, and gave him 
 her hand again, her heart full of j^ity and 
 almost of love. He turned on his heel, and she 
 stood and watched him go. For a moment a 
 sudden thoutyht flaslied throuo^h her head. 
 
 ^^ Shall I call him back? Shall I ever find 
 such love as his ? " 
 
 She started a step forward, but stopped 
 again. 
 
 "No, I do not love him," she said. "And 
 I do love my careless Eugene. But God com- 
 fort him ! God, comfort him ! " 
 
 And so standing and praying for him, she 
 let him go. 
 
 And he went, with no falter in his step and 
 never a look backward. This thing also had 
 he set behind him. 
 
 Claudia still stood fixed on the spot where 
 he had left her. Then she sat down on the 
 seat, and gave herself up to memories of their 
 walks and talks at Millstead. 
 
 "Why need he spoil it all?" she cried. 
 " Why need he give me a sad memory, when I 
 had such a pleasant one ? Oh, how foolish 
 they are ! W^hat a pity it's Eugene, and not 
 him ! Eugene would never have looked like 
 
222 FATHER STAFFORD. 
 
 that. He'd have made a bitter little speech, 
 and then a pretty little speech, and smoothed 
 his feathers and flown away. But still it is 
 Eugene ! Oh, dear, I shall never be quite 
 happy again ! " 
 
 We may reasonably, nay confidently, hope 
 that this was looking at the black side of things. 
 It is pleasant to act a little to ourselves now 
 and then. The little pieces are thrilling, and 
 they don't last much longer than their counter- 
 parts upon the stage. With most of us the 
 curtain falls very punctually, leaving time for 
 a merry supper, wdiere we forget the headache 
 and the thousand natural and unnatural ills 
 that passed in our sight before the green baize 
 let fall its merciful veil. 
 
 Stafford pursued his way through the 
 woods. Arriving at the lodge gates, he stopped 
 abruptly, remembering his promise to Eugene. 
 He saw a little fellow playing about, and called 
 to him. 
 
 ^' Do you know Mr. Lane, my boy?" he 
 asked. 
 
 ^^ Yes, sir," said the child. 
 
 ^^Then I'll give you something to take to 
 him." 
 
 He took a card out of his pocket and wrote 
 on it : ' ^ You were right. I am going to 
 
A LOVER'S FATE. 223 
 
 London ; " and giving it, with a sixj)ence, to his 
 messenger, resumed his journey to the station. 
 
 He was stunned. It cannot be denied that 
 he had been blindly hopeful, blindly confident. 
 He had persuaded himself that his love for 
 Claudia could be nothing but the outcome of a 
 natural bond between them that must produce 
 a like feeling in her. He had attributed to her 
 the depth and intensity of emotion that he 
 found in himself. He had seen in her not 
 merely a girl of more than common quickness, 
 and perhaps more than common capacity, but 
 a great nature ready to respond to a great 
 passion in another. She had much to give to 
 the man she loved ; but Stafford asked even 
 more than was hers to bestow. He had 
 deceived himself, and the delusion was still 
 upon him. He was conscious only of an utter 
 hopeless void. He had removed all to make 
 room for Claudia, and Claudia refused to fill 
 the vacant place. With all the will in the 
 world she could not have filled it ; but no such 
 thought as this came to console Stafford. He 
 saw his joy, but was forbidden to reach out his 
 hand and pluck it. His life lay in the hollow of 
 her hand, to grant or withhold, and she had 
 closed her grasp upon it. 
 
 He did not rest until he reached his hotel, 
 
224 FATHER STAFFORD. 
 
 for he felt a longing to be able to sit down 
 quietly and think it all over. He fancied that 
 when lie reached his own little room, the cloud 
 that now seemed to hang over all his faculties 
 would disperse, and he would see some plain 
 road before him. In this he was not altogether 
 disappointed, for it did become clear to him, as 
 he sat in his chair, that the question he had to 
 solve was whether he could now find any 
 motive strong enough to keej) him in life. He 
 realised tliat Claudia's action must be accepted 
 as a final destruction of his short dream of 
 happiness. He felt that he could not go back 
 to his old life, much less to his old attitude of 
 mind, as if nothing had happened — as if he 
 were an unchanged man, save for one sorrow- 
 ful memory. The transformation had been too 
 thorough for that. He had almost hoped that 
 he would find himself the subject of some 
 sudden revulsion of feeling, some uncontroll- 
 able fit of remorse, which would restore him, 
 beaten and bruised, to his old refuge ; but had 
 his hope been realised, his sense of relief 
 would, he knew, have been mingled with a 
 measure of contempt for a mind so completely 
 a prey to transient emotions. His nature was 
 not of that sort, and he could not by a spasm 
 of penitence nullify the events of the last few 
 
A LOVER'S FATE. 225 
 
 months. He must accept himself as altered by 
 what he had gone through. Was there, then, 
 any life left for the man he was now ? 
 
 Undoubtedly, the easiest tiling was to bid a 
 quiet good-bye to the life he had so mis- 
 managed. He had never in old days been 
 wedded to life. He had learnt always to regard 
 it rather as a necessary evil than as a thing 
 desirable in itself. Its momentary sweetness 
 ]eft it more bitter still. There would be a 
 physical pang, inevitable to a strong man, full 
 of health. But this he was ready to face ; and 
 now, in leaving life he would leave behind 
 nothing he regretted. The religious condem- 
 nation of suicide, which in former days would 
 not have decided but prevented such a discus- 
 sion in his mind, now weighed little with him. 
 No doubt it would be an act of cowardice : but 
 he had been guilty of such a much more 
 flagrant treachery and desertion, that the 
 added sin seemed a small matter. He felt that 
 to boggle over it would be like condemning a 
 murderer for trying to cheat the gallows. But 
 still, there was the natural dislike of an 
 acknowledgment of utter defeat ; and, added to 
 this, the bitter reluctance a man of ability feels 
 at the idea of his powers ceasing to be active, 
 and himself ceasing to be. The instinct of life 
 o 
 
226 FATHER STAFFORD. 
 
 was strong in him, though his reason seemed to 
 tell him there was no way in which his life 
 could be used. 
 
 '' It's better to go ! " he exclaimed at last, 
 after long hours of conflicting meditation. 
 
 It was getting late in the evening. Eleven 
 o'clock had struck, and he thought he would go 
 to bed. He was very tired and worn out, and 
 decided to put off further questions till the 
 next day. ' 
 
 After all, there was no hurry. He knew 
 the worst now : the blow had been struck, and 
 only the dull unending pain was with him — and 
 would be till the hour came when he should 
 free himself from it. He resolutely turned his 
 mind away from Claudia. He could not bear 
 to think about her. If only he could manage 
 to think about nothing for an hour, sleep would 
 come. 
 
 He rose to take his candle, but at the same 
 moment a waiter opened the door. 
 
 '^ A gentleman to see you, sir." 
 
 ^^ To see me? Who is it?" 
 
 ^'He says his name's Ayre, and he hopes 
 you'll see him " 
 
 ^^I can't see him at this time of night," 
 said Stafford, with the petulance of weariness. 
 Why did the man bother him ? 
 
A FRIEND'S COUNSEL. 227 
 
 But Ayre had followed close on his 
 messenger, and entered the room as Staiiord 
 spoke. 
 
 ^' Pray forgive me, Mr. Stafford," he said, 
 ^^for intruding on you so unceremoniously." 
 
 Stafford received him with courtesy, but 
 did not succeed in concealing his questioning 
 as to the motive of the visit. 
 
 Ayre took the chair his host gave him. 
 
 '' You think this a very strange proceeding 
 on my part, I daresay ? ' ' 
 
 '^ How did you know I was here ? " 
 
 ^^I had a wire from Eugene Lane. I'm 
 afraid I seem to be taking a liberty ; and that's 
 a thing I hate doing. But I was most anxious 
 to see you." 
 
 " Has Eugene any news ? " 
 
 " What he says is this : ' It has happened as 
 we feared. I am uneasy about him. Can you 
 see him to-night ' ? " 
 
 ^'I suppose, then, my fortune is known to 
 you ? " 
 
 ''Yes; I wish I had seen you before you 
 went. Do you mind my interfering ? " 
 
 ''No, not now. You could have done no 
 good before." 
 
 " I could have told you it was no use." 
 
 " I shouldn't have believed you." 
 o 2 
 
228 FATHER STAFFORD. 
 
 ^'I suj)pose you were bound to try it for 
 yourself. . Now you think I don't understand 
 your feelings." 
 
 ^'I suppose most people think they know 
 how a man feels when he's crossed in love," 
 said Stafford, trying to speak lightly. 
 
 '^ That's not the only thing with you." 
 
 ^^No, it isn't," he replied, a little surprised. 
 
 ^^ I feel rather responsible for it all, you 
 know. I was at the bottom of Morewood's 
 showing you that picture." 
 
 '' It must have dawned on me sooner or 
 later." 
 
 ^^I don't know. But, yes — I expect so. 
 You're hard hit." 
 
 Stafford smiled. 
 
 ^'Hard hit about her; and harder hit 
 because it was a plunge to go into it at all." 
 
 '' You're quite right." 
 
 ^' Of course I can't go into that side of it 
 very much, but I think I know more or less 
 how you feel." 
 
 '' I really think you do. It surprises me." 
 
 ^^ Yes. But, Stafford, may I go on taking 
 liberties ? " 
 
 '' I believe you're my friend. Let us put 
 that sort of question out of the way. Why 
 have you come ? " 
 
A FEIENL'S COUNSEL. 229 
 
 ^^ What does lie mean by sa}dng he's uneasy 
 about you ? " 
 
 '^ It's the old fellow's love for me." 
 
 Ayre was silent for a moment. Then he 
 asked abruptly, 
 
 ^^ What are you going to do ? " 
 
 '' I have hardly had time to look round 
 yet." 
 
 ^^Wliy should it make any difference to 
 you ? " 
 
 Stafford was puzzled. He thought Ayre 
 had really recognised the state of his mind. 
 He was inclined to think so still. But how, 
 then, could he ask such a question ? 
 
 '' You've had your holiday," Kjicq went on 
 calmly, "• and a precious bad use you've made 
 of it. Why not go back to work now ? " 
 
 ^^ As if nothing had happened ? " This was 
 the very suggestion he had made to himself, 
 and scornfully rejected. 
 
 '^ You think you're utterly smashed, of 
 course — I know what a facer it can be — and 
 you're just the man to take it very hard. 
 Stafford, I'm sorry." And with a sudden 
 imjDulse he held out his hand. 
 
 Stafford grasped it. The sympathy almost 
 broke him down. ^' She is all the world to 
 me," he said. 
 
230 FATHER STAFFORD. 
 
 ^' Aye, but be a man. You have your work 
 to do." 
 
 ^'No, I have no work to do. I threw all 
 that away." 
 
 '' I expected you'd say that." 
 
 ^'I know, of course, what you think of it. 
 In your view, that vow of mine was nonsense 
 — a part of the high-falutin' way I took 
 everything in. Isn't that so ? " 
 
 ^^I didn't come here to try and persuade 
 you to think as I do about such things. I am 
 not so fond of my position that I need prose- 
 lytise. But I want you to look into yours." 
 
 ''Mine is only too clear. I have given up 
 everything and got nothing. It's this way : 
 all the heart is out of me. If I went back to 
 my work I should be a sham." 
 
 '' I don't see that. May I smoke ? " 
 
 He lighted a cigar, and sat quiet for a few 
 seconds. 
 
 '' I suppose," he resumed, '' you still believe 
 what you used to teach ? " 
 
 ' ' Certainly, that is — yes, I believe it. But 
 it isn't part of me as it was." 
 
 '' Ah ! but you think it's true ? " 
 
 ''I remain perfectly satisfied with the de- 
 monstration of its truth — only I have lost the 
 faith that is above knowledge." 
 
A FRIEND'S COUNSEL. 231 
 
 It was evidently only with an effort that 
 Ayre repressed a sarcasm. Stafford saw his 
 difficulty. 
 
 ^' You don't follow that?" 
 
 '^I have heard it spoken of before. But, 
 after all, it's beside the point. You believe 
 the things so that, as far as honesty goes, you 
 could still teach them ? " 
 
 '' Certainly I should believe every dogma I 
 taught." 
 
 ^' Including the dogma that people ought to 
 be good ? " 
 
 ^'Including that," answered Stafford, with 
 a smile. 
 
 ^'I don't see what more you want," said 
 Sir Roderick, with an air of finality. 
 
 Stafford felt himself, against his will, 
 growing more cheerful. In fact, it was a 
 pleasure to him to exercise his brains once 
 again, instead of being the slave of his emo- 
 tions. Ayre had anticipated such a result 
 from their conversation. 
 
 ''Everything more," he said. ''Personal 
 holiness is at the bottom of it all." 
 
 " The best thing, I daresay," Ayre con- 
 ceded. "But indispensable? Besides, you 
 have it." 
 
 " Never again." 
 
2S2 FATHER STAFFORD. 
 
 ^' Yes, 1 say — in all essentials." 
 
 '' I can't do it. Ali, Ayre! it's all empty to 
 
 nie now." 
 
 "For God's sake, be a man! Is there 
 nothing on earth to be but a saint or a 
 husband ? " 
 
 Stafford looked at him inquiringly. 
 
 ''Heavens, man! have you no ambition? 
 Here you are, with ten men's brains, and you 
 sit — I don't know how you sit — in sackcloth, 
 clearly, but whether for heaven or for Claudia 
 I don't know. You think it odd to hear me 
 preach ambition ? I'm a lazy devil ; but I 
 have some power. Yes, I'm in my way a 
 power. I might have been a greater. You 
 might be a greater than ever I could." 
 
 Stafford listened. 
 
 " Do good if you can," Ayre went on ; 
 "and you can. But do something. Don't 
 tln^ow up the sponge because you liad one fall. 
 !Make yourself something to live for." 
 
 " In the Church ? " 
 
 "Yes — that suits you best. Your own 
 Church or another. I've often wondered Avhy 
 you don't try the other." 
 
 " I've been very near trying it before now." 
 
 "It's a splendid field. Glorious! You 
 might do anything." 
 
A FBIEXD'S COUNSEL. 233 
 
 Stafford was silent, and Ayre sat regarding 
 liim closely. 
 
 '^ Use my office for personal ambition?" he 
 asked at last. 
 
 ''Pray don't talk cant. Do some good 
 work, and raise yourself liigh enough to do 
 more." 
 
 '' I doubt that motive." 
 
 ''Never mind the motive. Do, man, do, 
 and don't puke. Leave Eugene to lounge 
 through life. He does it nicely. You're 
 made for more." 
 
 Stafford looked up at him as he laid a hand 
 on his shoulder. 
 
 "It's all misery," he said. 
 
 "Now, yes. But not always.'^ 
 
 "And it's not what I meant." 
 
 "No, you meant to be a saint. Many of 
 us do." 
 
 "I feel what you mean, but I have 
 scruples." 
 
 Ayre looked at him curiously. 
 
 "You're not a man of scruples really," he 
 said ; " you'll get over them." 
 
 " Is that a compliment ? " 
 
 " Depends on whom you ask. You'll think 
 of it ? Think of what you might do and be. 
 Now I'm off." 
 
234 FATHER STAFFORD. 
 
 Stafford rose to show liim out. 
 
 " I'm not sure whether I ous^ht to thank 
 you," he said. 
 
 ^^ Youwillthmkof it?" 
 
 '' Yes." 
 
 ^^ And you won't kill yourself without see- 
 ing me again ? " 
 
 ^^ You were afraid of that ? " 
 
 '^ Yes. Was I wrong ? " 
 
 '' No." 
 
 '^ You won't, then, without seeing me 
 again ? " 
 
 ^^No ; I promise." 
 
 Ayre found his way downstairs, and into 
 the street. 
 
 " It will work," he said to himself. ^' If 
 the Humane Society did its duty, I should have 
 a gold medal. I have saved a life to-night — 
 and a life worth saving." 
 
 And Stafford, instead of going to bed, sat 
 in his cliair again, pondering the new things 
 in his heart. 
 
235 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 SOME PEOPLE ARE AS FORTUNATE AS THEY DESERVE 
 
 TO BE. 
 
 Eugene Lane had been rather puzzled by 
 Claudia's latest proceedings. On the morrow 
 of her interview with Stafford he had received 
 from her an incoherent note, in which she 
 took grave blame to herself for ^' this unhappy 
 occurrence," and intimated that it would be 
 long before she could bear to discuss any 
 question pending between herself and her cor- 
 respondent. Eugene was not disposed to 
 acquiesce in this decision. He had done as 
 much as honour and friendship demanded, and 
 saw no reason why his own happiness should 
 be longer delayed : for he had little doubt that 
 Stafford's rebuff meant his own success. He 
 could not, however, persist in seeking Claudia 
 after her declaration of unwillingness to be 
 sought ; and he departed from Territon Park 
 in some degree of dudgeon. All this sort of 
 thing seemed to him to have a touch of the 
 theatre about it. But Claudia took it seri- 
 ously ; she did not forbid him to write to her, 
 but she answered none of his letters, and Lord 
 Rickmansworth, whom he encountered at one 
 
236 FATHER STAFFORD. 
 
 of the October race-meetings, gave him to 
 understand that she Avas living a life of seclu- 
 sion at Territon Park. Rickmansworth openly 
 scoffed at this behaviour, and Eugene did not 
 know whether to be pleased at finding his 
 views agreed with, or angry at hearing his 
 mistress' whims treated with fraternal dis- 
 respect. Ultimately, he found himself, imder 
 the influence of lunch, coinciding with Rick- 
 mansworth's dictum, that girls rather liked 
 making fools of themselves, and that Claudia 
 was no better than the rest. It was one of 
 Eugene's misfortunes that he could not clierish 
 illusions about his friends, unless his feehng 
 towards Stafford must be ranked as an illusion. 
 About the latter he had heard nothing, excejDt for 
 a short note from Sir Roderick, telling him that 
 no tragedy of a violent character need now be 
 feared. He was anxious to see Ayre and learn 
 what had passed, but that gentleman had also 
 vanished to recruit at a German bath after his 
 arduous labours. 
 
 It was mid-November before any jDrogress 
 was made in the matter. Eugene was in 
 London, and so were very many people, for 
 Parliament met in the autumn that year, and 
 the season before Christmas was more active 
 than usual. He had met Haddington about 
 
EUGENE IS IMPATIENT. 237 
 
 the House, and congratulated him with a fer- 
 vour and sincerity that had made the recipient 
 of his blessings positively uneasy. Why should 
 Lane be so uncommonly glad to get rid of 
 Kate? thought the happy man who had won 
 her from him. It really looked as if there were 
 something more than met the eye. Eugene 
 detected this idea in Haddington's mind, and 
 it caused him keen amusement. Kate also he 
 had encountered, and their meeting had been 
 marked by the ceremonious friendship de- 
 manded by the circumstances. The flavour of 
 diplomacy imparted to private life by these 
 episodes had not, however, been strong enough 
 to prevent Eugene being very bored. He was 
 growing from day to day less patient of 
 Claudia's invisibility, and he expressed his 
 feeling very plainly one day to Rickmans- 
 worth, whom he happened to encounter in the 
 outer lobby, as the noble lord was finding his 
 way to the unwonted haunt of the House of 
 Lords, thereto attracted by a debate on the 
 proper precautions it behoved the nation to 
 take against pleuro-pneumonia. 
 
 "Surprising," he said, "what interesting 
 subjects the old buffers get hold of now and 
 then ! Come and hear 'em, old man." 
 
 " The Lord forbid ! " said Eugene. " But 
 
238 FATHER STAFFORD. 
 
 I want to say a word to you, Eick, about 
 Claudia. I can't stand this much longer." 
 
 '' I wouldn't," said Rickmansworth, ^^if I 
 were you ; but it isn't my fault." 
 
 *^ It's absurd treating me like this because 
 of Stafford's affair." 
 
 ^^Well, why don't you go and call in 
 Grosvenor Square? She's there with Aunt 
 Julia.'' 
 
 '' I will. Do you think she'll see me ? " 
 
 ^' My dear fellow, I don't know ; only if I 
 wanted to see a girl, I bet she 'd see me." 
 
 Eugene smiled at his friend's indomitable 
 self-confidence, and let him fly to the arms 
 of pleuro-pneumonia. He then dispensed with 
 his own presence in his branch of the Legis- 
 lature, and took his way towards Grosvenor 
 Square, where Lord Rickmans worth's town 
 house was. 
 
 Lady Claudia was not at home. She had 
 gone with her aunt earlier in the day to give 
 Mr. Morewood a sitting. Mr. Morewood was 
 painting her portrait. 
 
 '^ I expect they've stayed to tea. I haven't 
 seen old Morewood for no end of a time. 
 Gad! I'll go to tea.^' 
 
 And he got into a hansom and went, won- 
 dering with some amusement how Claudia had 
 
EUGENE IS IMPATIENT. 239 
 
 persuaded Morewood to paint her. It turned 
 out, however, that the transaction was of a 
 purely commercial character. Rickmans worth, 
 having been very successful at the race-meet- 
 ing above referred to, had been minded to 
 give his sister a present, and she had chosen 
 her own head on a canvas. The price offered 
 was such that Morewood could not refuse ; but 
 he had in the course of the sitting greatly 
 annoyed Claudia by mentioning incidentally 
 that her face did not interest him and was, 
 in fact, such a face as he would never have 
 painted but for the pressure of penury. 
 
 '' Why doesn't it interest you ? " asked she, 
 in pardonable irritation. 
 
 ''I don't know. It's — but I daresay it's 
 my fault," he replied, in that tone which 
 clearly implies the opposite of what is asserted. 
 
 ^' It must be, I think," said Claudia gently. 
 ^* You see, it interests so many people, Mr. 
 Morewood." 
 
 ^^Not artists." 
 
 '' Dear me ! no ! " 
 
 ^'Whom then?" 
 
 '' Oh, the nobility and gentry." 
 
 ^' And clergy ? " 
 
 A shadow passed across her face — but a 
 fleeting shadow. 
 
240 FATHER STAFFORD. 
 
 ^' You paint very slowly," she said. 
 
 ^^ I do when I am not inspired. I hate 
 painting young women.'' 
 
 ^^Oh! Why?" 
 
 '' They're not meant to be painted ; they're 
 meant to be kissed." 
 
 ^' Does the one exclude the other ? " 
 
 ^^ That's for you to say," said More wood, 
 with a grin. 
 
 '' I think they're meant to be painted by 
 some people, and kissed by other people. Let 
 the cobbler stick to his last, Mr. Morewood." 
 
 ^^ I wonder if you'll stick to your last," 
 said Morewood. 
 
 Claudia decided that she had better not see 
 this joke, if the contemptible quip could be so 
 called. It was very impertinent, and she had 
 no retort ready. She revenged herself by 
 declaring her sitting at an end, and inviting 
 herself and her aunt to stay to tea. 
 
 ^' I've got no end of work to do," Morewood 
 protested. 
 
 ^^ Surely tea is compris?^'' she asked, with 
 raised eyebrows. ^' We shan't stay more than 
 an hour." 
 
 Morewood groaned, but ordered tea. After 
 all, it was too dark to paint, and — well, she was 
 
 amusing. 
 
EUGENE IS IMPATIENT. 241 
 
 Eugene arrived almost at the same moment 
 as tea. Morewood was glad to see him, and 
 went as near showing it as he ever did. Lady- 
 Julia received him with effusion, Claudia with 
 dignity. 
 
 ^' I have pursued you from Grrosvenor Square, 
 Lady Julia," he said. ^' I didn't come to see 
 old Morewood, you know." 
 
 '' As much as to see me, I daresay," said 
 Lady Julia in an aside. 
 
 Eugene protested with a shake of the head, 
 and Morewood carried him off to have such 
 inspection of the picture as artihcial light could 
 afford. 
 
 ^' You've got her very well." 
 
 ^' Yes, pretty well. It's a bright little shal- 
 low face." 
 
 " Gro to the devil ! " said Eugene, in strong 
 indiornation. 
 
 ^^I only said that to draw you. There is 
 something in the girl — but not overmuch, you 
 know." 
 
 ''There's all I want." 
 
 "Oh, I should think so. Heard anything 
 of Stafford?" 
 
 "' No, except that he's gone off somewhere 
 alone again. He wrote to Ayre; Ayre told 
 me. He and Ayre are very thick now." 
 p 
 
242 FATHER STAFFORD. 
 
 ^' A queer combination." 
 
 '^ Yes. I wonder what they'll make of one 
 another ! '^ 
 
 Morewood was a good-natured man at 
 bottom, and after a few minutes' more talk he 
 carried off Aunt Julia to look at his etchings. 
 
 ^'So I have run you down at last?" said 
 Eugene to Claudia. 
 
 '^ I told you I didn't want to see you." 
 
 ^^ I know. But that was a month ago." 
 
 '^ I was very much upset." 
 
 ^' So was I, awfully ! " 
 
 '' Do you think it was my fault, Mr. 
 Lane ? " 
 
 ''Not a bit. So far as it was anybody's 
 fault, it was mine." 
 
 '' How yours ? " 
 
 '' Well, you see, he thought " 
 
 ''Yes, I see. You needn't go on. He 
 thought you were out of the question, and 
 therefore " 
 
 ' ' Now, Lady Claudia, are you going to 
 quarrel again ? " 
 
 " No, I don't think so. Only you are so 
 annoying. Is he in great trouble ? " 
 
 " He was. I think he's better now. But it 
 was a terrible blow to him, as it would be to 
 any one." 
 
EUGENE IS IMPATIENT. 24? 
 
 ^^ To you?" 
 
 '' It Avould be death ! " 
 
 ^' Nonsense I " said Claudia. ^' What is he 
 going to do ? " 
 
 '^ I don't know. I think he will go back to 
 work." 
 
 '' I never intended any harm." 
 
 '^ You never do." 
 
 '' You mean I do it ? Pray don't try to be 
 desperate and romantic, Mr. Lane. It's not in 
 your line." 
 
 ^' It's curious I can never get credit for deep 
 feeling. I have spent a miserable month." 
 
 " So have I." 
 
 '^ Because I could not see the person I love 
 best in the world." 
 
 '^ Ah I that wasn't my reason." 
 
 ^^ Claudia, you must give me an answer." 
 
 Claudia rose, and joined her aunt and More- 
 wood. She gave Eugene no further oppor- 
 tunity for private conversation, and soon after 
 the ladies took their leave. As Eugene shook 
 hands with Claudia, he said, 
 
 '^ May I call to-morrow ? " 
 
 '^ You are a little unkind ; but you may." 
 And she rapidly passed on to Morewood, and 
 with much sparring made an appointment for 
 her next sitting. 
 p 2 
 
244 . FATHER STAFFORD. 
 
 ^' Why does she fence so with me?" he 
 asked the painter, as he took his hat. 
 
 " What's the harm ? You know you enjoy 
 it." 
 
 ''1 don't." 
 
 But it is very possible he did. 
 
 The next day Eugene took advantage of 
 Claudia's permission. He went to Grosvenor 
 Square, and asked boldly for Lady Claudia. 
 He Avas shown into the drawing-room. After 
 a time Claudia came to him. 
 
 ''I have come for my answer," he said, 
 taking her hand. 
 
 Claudia was looking grave. 
 
 ''You know the answer," she said. ''It 
 must be ' Yes.' " 
 
 Eugene drew her to him and kissed her. 
 
 "But you say 'Yes' as if it gave you 
 pain." 
 
 " So it does, in a way." 
 
 "You don't like being conquered even by 
 your own prisoner ? " 
 
 "It's not that: that is, I think, rather a 
 namby-pamby feeling. At any rate, I don't 
 feel it." 
 
 " What is it, then ? You don't care enough 
 for me ? " 
 
 "Ah, I care too much ! " she cried. "Eugene, 
 
THE REWARD OF DEVOTION. 245 
 
 I wish I could have loved Father Stafford, and 
 not you." 
 
 ^' Why so?" 
 
 ^^ I was at the very centre of his life. I don't 
 think I am more than on the fringe of yours." 
 
 ' ' A very priceless fringe to a very worth- 
 less fabric ! " said he, kissing her hand'. 
 
 "Yes," she answered, witli a smile, "you 
 are perfect in that. You might give lessons in 
 amatory deportment." 
 
 " Out of a full heart the mouth speaketh." 
 
 "Ah! does it? May not a lover be too 
 point- de- vice in his speeches as well as in his 
 accoutrements? Father Stafford came to mo 
 pale, yes, trembling, and with rugged words." 
 
 " I am not the man that Stafford is — save 
 for my lady's favour." 
 
 " And you came in confidence ? " 
 
 " You had let me hope." 
 
 " You have known it for a long Avhile. I 
 don't trust you, you know, but I must. Will 
 you treat me as you treated Kate ? " 
 
 "Slander!" cried he gaily, "I didn't 
 ' treat ' Kate. Kate ^ treated ' me." 
 
 " Poor fellow ! " 
 
 He had sat down in a low chair close to 
 hers, and she bent down and kissed him on the 
 forehead. 
 
246 FATHER STAFFORD. 
 
 " At least, I don't think you'll like any one 
 better than you like me, and I must be content 
 with that." 
 
 '' I have worshipped you for years. Was 
 ever beauty so exacting ? " 
 
 '' With lucid intervals ? " 
 
 '' Never a moment. A sense of duty once 
 led me astray — dynastic considerations — a suit- 
 able cousin." 
 
 '^ Yes ; and I suppose a moonlight night." 
 
 ^^ Pereani quae ante te ! You know a little 
 Latin ? " 
 
 '^ I think I'd better not just now." 
 
 '' You may want it for yourself, you know, 
 with a change of gender. But we'll not bandy 
 recriminations." 
 
 " I wasn't joking." 
 
 "" Not when you began ; but with me all 
 your troubles shall end in jokes, and every tear 
 in a smile. Claudia, I never knew you so 
 alarmingly serious before." 
 
 ^' Well, I won't be serious any more. The 
 fatal deed is done." 
 
 ^'And I may say ^Claudia' now without 
 fear of any one ? " 
 
 ^' You will be able to say it for about the 
 next fifty years. I hope you won't get tired of 
 it. Eugene, try to get tired of me last of all." 
 
THE REWARD OF DEVOTIOX. 247 
 
 " Never while I live ! You are a perpetual 
 refreshment." 
 
 ^^ A lofty function!" 
 
 '^ And the spring of all my life. Let us 
 be happy, dear, and never mind fifty years 
 hence." 
 
 *' I will," she said; ^^ and I am happy." 
 
 ^^ And, please God, you shall always be so. 
 One would think it was a very dangerous thing 
 to marry me ! " 
 
 ^' I will brave the danger." 
 
 '' There is none. I have found my god- 
 dess." 
 
 The door opened suddenly, and Bob Terri- 
 ton entered at the very moment when Eugene 
 was sealing his vow of homage. Bob was 
 pleased to be playful. Holding his hands be- 
 fore his face, he turned and pretended to 
 
 '' Come in, old man," cried Eugene, '^ and 
 congratulate me." 
 
 ^' Oh, you have fixed it, have you? " 
 
 " We have. Don't you think we shall do 
 very well together? " 
 
 Bob stood regarding them, his hands in his 
 pockets. 
 
 ''Yes," he said at length, ''I think you 
 will. There's a pair of you," 
 
248 FATHER STAFFORD. 
 
 And he could never be persuaded to explain 
 this utterance. But it is to be feared that the 
 thought underlying it was one not over- compli- 
 mentary to the happy lovers. And Bob knew 
 them both very well. 
 
249 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 AN END AND A BEGINNING. 
 
 When Sir Roderick Ayre returned to England, 
 he had to undergo much questioning concerning 
 his dealings with Stafford. It liad somehow 
 become known throughout the little group of 
 people interested in Stafford's abortive love- 
 affair that he and Ayre had lield conference 
 together, and the impression was that Ayre's 
 counsel had, to some extent at least, shaped 
 Stafford's resolution and conduct. Ayre did 
 not talk freely on the matter. He fenced with 
 the idle inquiries of the Territon brothers ; he 
 calmed Mrs. Lane's solicitude with soothing 
 words ; he put Morewood off with a sneer at 
 the transitoriness of love-affairs in general. 
 To Eugene he spoke more openly, and did 
 not hesitate to congratulate himself on the 
 part he had taken in reconciling Stafford to 
 life and work. Eugene cordially agreed with 
 his point of view ; and Ayre felt that he was 
 in a fair way to be rid of the matter, when 
 one day Claudia sprang upon him with a new 
 assault. 
 
 He had come to see her, and tender hearty 
 congratulations. He felt that the successful 
 
250 FATHER STAFFORD. 
 
 issue of Eugene's suit was in some degree his 
 own work, and he was well pleased that his 
 two favourites should have taken to one an- 
 other. Moreover, he reaped intellectual satis- 
 faction from the fulfilment of a prophecy made 
 when its prospects of realisation seemed very 
 scant. Claudia admitted her own pleasure in 
 her engagement, and did not attempt to deny 
 that her affection had dated from a period 
 when by all the canons of propriety she should 
 have had no thoughts of Eugene. 
 
 '' We are not responsible for our emotions," 
 she said, laughing; ^^ and you will admit I 
 behaved with the utmost decorum." 
 
 '^ About your usual decorum," he replied. 
 ^' The situation was difficult." 
 
 '' It was indeed," she sighed. '' Eugene 
 was so very — well, reckless. But I want to 
 ask you something." 
 
 " Say on." 
 
 '^ I heard about your interview with Father 
 Stafford ; what did you say to him ? " 
 
 '^ Of course Eugene has told you all I told 
 him ? " 
 
 " Probably. I told him to." 
 
 '' Well, that's all." . 
 
 ^^ In fact, you told him I wasn't worth 
 fretting about?" 
 
^.V END AND A BEGINNING. 251 
 
 '^ Not in that personal way. I asserted a 
 general principle, and reluctantly denied that 
 you were an exception." 
 
 *' I hope you did tell him T wasn't worth it, 
 and very plainly. But hasn't he gone back to 
 his religious work ? " 
 
 '' I think he will." 
 
 ^' Did you advise him to do that ? " 
 
 "' Yes, certainly. It's what he's most fit 
 for, and I told him so." 
 
 ^^ He spoke to me as if — as if he had no 
 religion left" 
 
 ''Yes, it took him in that way. He'll get 
 over that." 
 
 " I think you were wrong to tell him to go 
 back. Didn't you encourage him to go back 
 to the work without feeling the religion ? " 
 
 " Perhaps I did. Did Eugene tell you that?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " I'll never say anything to a lover again." 
 
 "Didn't you tell him to use his work for 
 personal ends — for ambition, and so on?" 
 
 " Oh, in a way. I had to stir him up — I 
 had to tide him over a bad hour." 
 
 " That was very wrong. It was teaching 
 him to degrade himself." 
 
 " He can pursue his work in perfect 
 sincerity. I found that out." 
 
252 FATHER STAFFORD. 
 
 ^^ Can he, if he does it with a low motive ? " 
 
 ^^My dear girl, whose motives are not 
 mixed ? Whose heart is single ? " 
 
 '^ His was once! " 
 
 '^ Before he met — you and me? I made the 
 best job I could. I cemented the breakage ; 
 I couldn't undo it." 
 
 ^' I would rather " 
 
 '' He'd picturesquely drowned himself?" 
 
 ^' Oh, no," she said, with a shudder ; '^ but 
 it lowers my ideal of him." 
 
 ^' That, considering your position, is not 
 wdiolly a bad thing." 
 
 ^' Do you think he's justified in doing it? " 
 
 ^' To tell the truth, I don't see quite to 
 the bottom of him. But he will do great 
 things ' ' 
 
 ^' Now he is well quit of me ? " 
 
 Sir Roderick smiled. 
 
 '' Well, I don't like it." 
 
 ^^ Then you should have married him, and 
 left Eugene to do the drowning." 
 
 '^ Do you know, Sir Eoderick, I rather 
 doubt if Eugene would have drowned him- 
 self ? " 
 
 ^'I don't know; he has very good man- 
 
 ners." 
 
 They both lauglied. 
 
AN END AND A BEGINNING. 253 
 
 ^' But all the same, I am unhappy about 
 Mr. Stafford." 
 
 '^ Ah ! your notions of other people's 
 morality are too exalted. I don't accept 
 responsibility for Stafford. He would not 
 have followed my suggestion unless the idea 
 had been in germ in his own mind." 
 
 Claudia's pre- occupation with Stafford's fate 
 would have been somewhat disturbing to a 
 lover less philosophical or less sympathetic 
 than Eugene. As it was, he was pleased with 
 her concern, and his sorrow for the trouble it 
 occasioned her was mitigated by a conviction 
 that its effect would not be permanent. In 
 this idea he proved perfectly correct. As the 
 weeks passed by and nothing was heard of the 
 vanished man, his place in the lives of those 
 who had been so intimately associated with 
 him became filled with other interests, and 
 from a living presence he dwindled to an 
 occasional memory. It was as if he had really 
 died. His name was now and then mentioned 
 with the sad affection we accord to those who 
 have gone before us ; for the most part the 
 thought of him was thrust out in the busy 
 give-and-take of every-day life. Save for the 
 absence of that bitter sense of hopelessness 
 which the separation of death brings, Stafford 
 
254 FATHER STAFFOBD. 
 
 might as well have passed on the road which, 
 but for Ayre's intervention, he had marked 
 out for himself. Claudia and Eugene were 
 wrapped up in one another : their love for 
 him, though not dead, was dormant, and his 
 name was oftener upon the lips of Ayre and 
 Morewood than of those who had been most 
 closely united with him in tlie bonds of common 
 experience. But Ayre and Morewood, besides 
 entertaining a kindly memory of his personal 
 charm, found delight in studying him as a 
 problem. They were keenly interested in the 
 upshot of his new start in life, and their blunter 
 perceptions were deaf to the dissonance between 
 the ideal he had set before himself and the 
 alternative Ayre had suggested for his adoption. 
 Perhaps they were right. If none but saints 
 may do the work of the world, much of its 
 most useful work must go undone. 
 
 Haddington and Kate Bernard were mar- 
 ried before Christmas. Claudia deprecated 
 such haste : and Eugene willingly acquiesced 
 in her wish to put off the date of their own 
 union. He thought that being engaged to 
 Claudia was a pleasant state of existence, 
 and why hasten to change it ? Besides, as he 
 suggested, they were not people of fickle mind, 
 like Kate and Haddington (for, of course, 
 
^xV END AND A BEGINNING, 255 
 
 Claudia had told him of Haddington's proposal 
 to herself — it is believed ladies always do 
 tell these incidents), and could afford to 
 wait. Eugene went to the wedding. He was 
 strongly opposed to such foolish things as 
 standing quarrels, and Kate was entirely 
 charming in the capacity of somebody else's 
 wife: it is a comparatively easy part to fill, 
 and he had no fault to find with her concep- 
 tion of it. The magnificence of his wedding 
 present smoothed his return to favour, and 
 Kate had the good sense to accept the role 
 he offered her, and allow it to be supposed 
 that she had been the faithless, he the for- 
 saken, one ; whereas in reality, as Ay re re- 
 marked, she had herself doubled the parts. 
 Claudia judiciously avoided the question of 
 her presence at the ceremony by a timely 
 absence from London, and enjoyed only at 
 second-hand the amusement Eugene derived 
 from Haddington's hesitation between triumph 
 over his supposed rival and doubt which had 
 in reality gained the better j^art. In spite of 
 this doubt, it is allowable to hope for a very 
 fair share of working happiness in the Had- 
 dington household. Kate was hardly a woman 
 to make a man happy ; but, on the other hand, 
 she would not prevent him being happy if his 
 
256 FATHER STAFFOEB. 
 
 bent lay in that direction. And Haddington 
 was too entirely contented with himself to be 
 other than happy. 
 
 Eugene's wedding was fixed for the Easter 
 recess, and among the party gathered for the 
 occasion at Millstead were most of those wlio 
 had been his guests in the previous summer. 
 The Haddingtons were not there — Kate re- 
 torted Claudia's evasion ; and of course Staf- 
 ford's figure was missing ; but the Territon 
 brothers were there, and Morewood and Ayre, 
 the former bringing with him the completed 
 picture, which was Rickmans worth's present to 
 his sister. The party was to be enlarged the 
 day before the wedding by a large company 
 of relations of both their houses. '%■'• 
 
 The evening before this invasion was ex- 
 pected, Eugene came down to dinner looking 
 rather perturbed. He was a little silent during 
 the meal, and when the ladies withdrew, he 
 turned at once to Ayre, 
 
 " I have heard from Stafford." 
 
 "" Ah ! what does he say ? " 
 
 '^ He has joined the Church of Eome." 
 
 '^ I thought he would." 
 
 Morewood grunted angrily. 
 
 '^ Did you tell him to ? " he asked Ayre. 
 
 '' No ; I think I referred to it." 
 
AN END AND A BEGINNING. 257 
 
 ^' Do you suppose he's honest?'' Morewood 
 went on. 
 
 ^^Why not?" asked Eugene. ^^ I could 
 never make out why he didn't go before. 
 What do you say, Ayre ? " 
 
 Sir Roderick was a little troubled. This 
 exact following of, or anyhow coincidence 
 with, his advice seemed to cast a responsibility 
 upon him. 
 
 ^^Oh, I expect he's honest enough; and it's a 
 splendid field for him," he answered, repeating 
 the argument he had urged to Stafford himself. 
 ^^ Ayre," said Morewood aggressively, 
 ^' you've driven that young man to perdition." 
 '^ Bosh ! " said Ayre. '^ He's not a sheep to 
 be driven, and Rome isn't perdition. I did no 
 more than give his thoughts a turn." 
 
 '' I think I am glad," said Eugene ; ^^ it is 
 much better in some ways. But he must have 
 gone through another struggle, poor fellow ! " 
 ^' I doubt it," said Ayre. 
 *^ Anyhow, it's rather a score for those 
 chaps," remarked Rickmansworth. ^' He's a 
 good fish to land." 
 
 ^' Yes, it will make a bit of a sensation," 
 assented Ayre. ^' We'll see what the Bishop 
 says when he comes to turn Eugene off. By 
 the way, is it public property ? " 
 Q 
 
258 FATHER STAFFORD. 
 
 '^ It will be in the papers, I expect, to- 
 morrow. I wonder wliat they'll say ! '' 
 
 " Everything but the truth. ^' 
 
 ' ' By Jove, I hope so ! And we alone know 
 the secret history ! " 
 
 ^^ Yes," said Ay re; '^ and you, Rick, will 
 have to sit silent and hear the enemy triumph." 
 
 Lord Eickmansworth did not think it worth 
 while to repudiate the odium theologicum imputed 
 to him. Probably he knew he was in reality 
 above the susjoicion of caring for such things. 
 
 ^' Shall you tell Claudia?" Ayre asked 
 Eugene, as they went upstairs. 
 
 " Yes ; I shall show her his letter. I think 
 I ought, don't you ? " 
 
 '' Perhaps ; will you show it me ? " 
 
 ^' Yes ; in fact he asks me to give you the 
 news, as he is too occupied to write to you. 
 The note is quite short, and, I think, studi- 
 ously reserved." 
 
 He gave it to Ayre, who read it silently. 
 
 " Dear Eugene/' it ran : 
 
 " A line to wish Lady Claudia and yourself all 
 happiness and joy. Do not let your joy be shadowed 
 by over-kind thoughts .of me. I am my own man 
 again. You will see soon by the papers that I have 
 taken the important step of being received into the 
 Catholic Church. I need not trouble you with an 
 
^.Y END AND A BEGINNING. 259 
 
 argument. I think I have done well, and hope to 
 find there work for my hands to do. Pray give this 
 news to Ayre, and with it my most warm and friendly 
 remembrances. I would write but for my stress of 
 work. He was a friend to me in my need. They 
 are sending me to Rome for a time ; after that, 
 I hope I shall come to England, and renew my 
 friendships. Good-bj^e, old fellow, till then. I long 
 for af] T ayavocj^poavvT) koX (tol<^ cu^avoi<i eTreecrcrLV. 
 
 " Yours always, 
 
 "C. S." 
 
 ^' That doesn't tell one much, does it ? " 
 
 ^' No," said Ay^re ; ^' but we shall learn 
 more if we watch him." 
 
 Claudia came up, and they gave her the 
 note to read. 
 
 She read it, asking to have the Greek 
 translated to her. Then she said to Ay^re, 
 
 '^ What does it mean ? " 
 
 '' Why do you ask me ? " 
 
 " Because you are most likely to know." 
 
 '^ Mind, I may be wrong ; I may do him 
 injustice, but I think " 
 
 '' Yes?" she said impatiently. 
 
 ' ^ I think. Lady Claudia, you have spoilt a 
 Saint and made a Cardinal ! " 
 
 THE END. 
 
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