University of California • Berkeley 
 

 
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A 
 
 REED SHAKEN 
 
 WITH 
 
 THE V^I N D: 
 
 % fo&o ^torg. 
 
 BY 
 
 EMILY FAITHFULL 
 
 The variable as the shade. 
 
 By the tight quivering aspen made." 
 
 Marmion. 
 
 NEW YORK: 
 ADAMS, VICTOR & CO., PUBLISHERS, 
 
 98 WILLIAM STREET. 
 
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1873, by 
 ADAMS, VICTOR & CO., 
 
 In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 
 
 Stereotyped at the 
 WOMEN'S PRINTING HOUSE, 
 No. 3 Mission Place, bet. Park and Worth Sts., one block East of Centre, 
 
 N EW YOR K. 
 
1^ S I^ I 'U <3i T 1 1) S « 
 
 TO MY FRIEND, 
 
 LAURA CURTIS BULLARD, 
 
 WHO RECEIVED ME ON MY FIRST ARRIVAL IN NEW YORK, 
 
 AND WHO, 
 
 TOGETHER WITH HER FAMILY AND MANY 
 
 OF HER 
 
 Noblest Pountrvmen and Women, 
 gave me a pleasant experience 
 
 OF 
 GENUINE AMERICAN HOSPITALITY, 
 
 Which I shall ever Remember with Affectionate Gratitude. 
 
"Whirling away 
 Like leaf in the wind. 
 Points of attachment 
 Left daily behind. 
 Fixed to no principle. 
 Fast to no friend. 
 Such our fidelity, 
 Where is the end?" 
 
 Henry Alfowx 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 This story is a simple analysis of one of the most 
 dangerous phases of female character — a phase, alas ! but 
 too common in fashionable city life, on both sides of the 
 Atlantic. 
 
 I have seen with my own eyes the curious combination 
 of intellectual power and instability of purpose portrayed 
 in Tiny Harewood ; I have watched with an aching heart 
 the shifting weaknesses and faint struggles for redemption 
 described in these pages ; I have known women, equally 
 and honestly critical of their own faults, who, while capa- 
 ble of assuming the philosophical and moral tone, occa- 
 sionally adopted by my heroine, and displaying a 
 cool acumen and penetration of ethical questions, like 
 her, persistently "the wrong pursued." Gifted with phys- 
 ical and mental attractions, although conscious of higher 
 and nobler aspirations, some appeared unable to resist 
 the temptation of exercising their perilous love of power, 
 and accordingly drifted hopelessly away into the shallows 
 and quicksands of life, extinguishing God's light in the 
 soul by the myriad conventional crimes which are under 
 
vi Preface. 
 
 the shelter of social, but not within the pale of moral, 
 laws. 
 
 If the delineation of the chameleon nature of my Eng- 
 lish heroine, and the gradual crucifixion of the higher 
 purpose beneath the destroying influence of a frivolous 
 butterfly existence, enables one American reader to de- 
 tect in time 
 
 *' That little rift within the lute 
 
 Which by and by will make the music mute, 
 And gently spreading, slowly silence all — " 
 
 the publication of this tale will not be in vain. 
 
 Emily Faithfull. 
 
 Brooklyn, N. Y., May x, 1873. 
 
A RE E D 
 
 SHAKEN WITH THE WIND. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 " We stand on either side the sea, 
 
 Stretch hands, blow kisses, sigh, and lean, 
 I toward you, you toward me ; 
 But what hears either save the keen 
 Gray sea between ? " 
 
 A. C. Swinburne. 
 
 ** Only I discern — 
 Infinite passion, and the pain 
 Of finite hearts that yeai'n." 
 
 Robert Browning. 
 
 On a bright frosty day in December, not many 
 years ago, the Boulogne steamer started from the 
 pier at Folkestone, containing among its passen- 
 gers an English family bound for a six-montjis' 
 residence in Rome. 
 
 The leave-takings were all over ; friends who 
 
12 A Reed Shaken with the Wind. 
 
 had accompanied the '* outward bound " to the 
 steamer had received the last distinguishable fare- 
 well nod ; all who were left behind were already 
 tired of waving their hands, and had, one by one, 
 with a single exception, departed from the pier. 
 
 Wilfred Lane still lingered. His eyes had been 
 fixed upon a fair young face until it could no 
 longer be distinguished. He had watched the 
 slight figure of a girl who was looking earnestly at 
 the receding pier, as she leant over the side of 
 the boat, with her hand over her eyes, shading 
 her face from the sun. And now the steamer 
 itself seemed like a moving black mass on the 
 water. 
 
 At last the young man walked rapidly off the 
 pier, through the town, and, mounting the steep 
 hill beyond, turned his face once again towards 
 the sea. 
 
 There was the " Queen of the Isles," already 
 looking much smaller, and ploughing her way 
 across the Channel with cruel rapidity. Soon she 
 appeared like a thick black post, which Wilfred 
 watched until it grew fainter and fainter, and at 
 last he could discern nothing at all. 
 
 And yet he could not bear to leave the spot. 
 He felt, while he stayed there, away from every 
 other human being, and looked out upon the sea 
 in the direction where he had last seen the steamer, 
 that he was nearer to Tiny Harewood than he 
 should be when he went back again into the town. 
 
A Reed Shake^t with the Wind. 13 
 
 Besides this, Wilfred Lane felt a curious chok- 
 ing kind of sensation in his throat, which he 
 thought would get better if he remained in the 
 open air alone. 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 ** Is human love the growth of human will ? " 
 
 Lord Byron, 
 
 The family on board the tidal boat in which 
 Wilfred Lane's interest was centred consisted of 
 his aunt and three cousins ; and the journey to 
 Rome was undertaken on account of his attach- 
 ment to the youngest daughter — an attachment 
 which was warmly returned by the young lady 
 herself, but was unacceptable to the higher pow- 
 ers. 
 
 For many years Wilfred Lane had been in the 
 habit of frequenting Lady Harewood's house so 
 constantly that he had almost grown to look upon 
 it as his home. He was accustomed to do for her 
 and his cousins all those little offices which ladies 
 without near male relations are so glad to receive 
 from any man whom they regard in the light of a 
 *' tame cat," or a cousin who will never step be- 
 yond certain limits, or claim any other reward for 
 his devotion than a kindly recognition of his ser- 
 vices. His aunt had hitherto received Wilfred's 
 attentions as her rightful due. Was he not the 
 only son of her husband's young and foolish sister 
 
A Reed Shaken with the Wind. 15 
 
 who, in spite of all her prudent counsels, persisted 
 in refusing a wealthy unloved suitor in order to 
 marry a poor country clergyman, who had not 
 even the grace to live more than six months after 
 Wilfred's birth, but left his widow as sole legacy a 
 delicate little son, who must in future share with 
 her the income which had barely sufficed for her 
 own dress previous to this absurd love-match ? 
 And had not Lady Harewood done her utmost to 
 supply a mother's place, ever since that same weak 
 silly creature cried herself into an early grave ? 
 Did not Wilfred Lane owe his appointment in the 
 War Office to interest exerted by her lamented 
 husband ? 
 
 In fact, Lady Harewood considered that she was 
 only adding one more to the many favors already 
 bestowed in allowing her nephew the free run of 
 her house, permitting him to escort herself and her 
 daughters to all the fetes and balls of the season, 
 to call up her carriage at the opera, and to under- 
 take those many hundred little duties which force 
 even the stoutest champions of woman's rights to 
 acknowledge the supremacy of man. 
 
 Wilfred Lane on his part was nothing loth to ac- 
 cept the situation, although anything more opposed 
 to his own character than that of his aunt's can 
 scarcely be conceived. Lady Harewood was weak 
 and frivolous, and the worldly maxims which she 
 occasionally uttered for the 'benefit of his cousins, 
 with the small amount of earnestness of which her 
 
1 6 A Reed Shaken with the Wind. 
 
 nature was capable, were sometimes almost more 
 than he could endure in silence. Placed by her 
 marriage in a position above the rest of her family, 
 which belonged to the trading class in the West 
 of England, Lady Harewood appeared to live in 
 constant dread of betraying it, and in order to dis- 
 guise it she assumed what she believed to be the 
 correct airs of a lady of fashion, and a sorry sort of 
 figure she often made in consequence. 
 
 The three cousins were the silver lining to Wil- 
 fred's cloud, though there were moments when 
 Charlotte showed tendencies to devote herself to 
 the beau monde, like her mother ; but they all in- 
 herited something of their father's marvellous in- 
 tellect and genial disposition, and no house could 
 fail to be agreeable which contained the bright and 
 fascinating presence of these girls. 
 
 Men of all sorts clustered round them, and they 
 made themselves agreeable to their own sex as 
 well ; still there were ladies who had hard words 
 for the Miss Harewoods, and condemned them all 
 three as '* sad flirts." For, long before Tiny was 
 eighteen, a well-known officer in the Life Guards 
 had made her conspicuous by his public attentions, 
 and gentle Belgravian voices were not slow to 
 whisper that by the time Tiny was as old as her 
 sisters she would have surpassed them both in the> 
 art of coquetry. 
 
 These insinuations, of course, never reached 
 Wilfred's ear. He was regarded by the world 
 
A Reed Shaken with the Wind. 17 
 
 more as a brother than a cousin, and so indeed he 
 remained, until he learnt to distinguish between 
 the kindly pleasure with which he undertook to 
 ride or walk with Charlotte and Madeline, and the 
 different feelings he experienced when he found 
 Tiny's arm within his own. Then he felt no 
 longer a brother or mere cousin, for his pulse 
 quickened and his heart throbbed with a passion 
 unknown to such relationships. These were 
 dangerous times for Wilfred, but he did not shun 
 them, or think with any distinctness of that to 
 which they must ultimately lead. 
 
 As for Tiny, she was so full of life and spirits that 
 she seemed scarcely to notice any one save in a 
 passing way ; everything and everybody appeared 
 to give her pleasure for the moment, no one had 
 power to arrest her for longer. The admiration of 
 Captain Clutterbuck amused her and gratified her 
 vanity, but it certainly never touched her heart. 
 And so her nineteenth year passed away, and dur- 
 ing the following winter the Harewoods went for a 
 month to some old friends who lived near Windsor. 
 
 It was Tiny's first visit to The Cedars, but she 
 soon became a great favorite with both host and 
 hostess, and when the time came for her mother's 
 departure, she had decided (for Tiny generally de- 
 cided for herself) on accepting Mrs. Wroughton's 
 invitation to spend the rest of the winter at Wind- 
 sor. Her motives were never much scrutinized 
 by her mother, who was in this instance ready to 
 
1 8 A Reed Shake7i with the Wind. 
 
 agree to the plan proposed, and content to lose 
 her child's companionship if by doing so she se- 
 cured for Tiny the advantages which might accrue 
 from visiting in " the best society in the neighbor- 
 hood." 
 
 Though Lady Harewood had not the faintest 
 notion how to promote them, good matches for 
 her daughters were the end and aim of her exist- 
 ence. So she said good-by to Tiny with much 
 hope and little regret, and retired with Charlotte 
 and Madeline to Torquay, enjoying the satisfac- 
 tory reflection that two daughters were much more 
 conveniently chaperoned than three, and that 
 Tiny's absence might even act beneficially for her 
 sisters' interest as well as her own. 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 "And barren com makes bitter bread." 
 
 A. C. Swinburne. 
 
 ** 'Tis strange to think, if we could fling aside 
 The mask and mantle that love wears from pride, 
 How much would be, we now so little guess, 
 Deep in each heart's undreamed, unsought recess ; 
 The careless smile, like a gay banner borne, 
 The laugh of merrim.ent, the lip of scorn, — 
 And, for a cloak, what is there that can be 
 So difficult to pierce as gayety ? 
 Too dazzling to be scanned, the haughty brow 
 Seems to hide something it would not avow ; 
 These are the bars, the curtain to the breast. 
 That shuns a scrutiny." 
 f L. E. Landon. 
 
 Now if the truth must be told, the society of 
 Mr. and Mrs. Wroughton did not constitute Tiny 
 Harewood's attraction to Windsor. She certainly 
 valued it as far as it went, nor was she by any 
 means insensible to the pleasures of a large coun- 
 try house, or unable to appreciate an establishment 
 containing among its most important members an 
 ** exquisite French cook." 
 
 Tiny had a wonderful capacity for the enjoy- 
 
20 A Reed Shaken with the Wind, 
 
 ment of all material things, but her real induce 
 ment to remain at The Cedars consisted in the 
 presence of a certain Captain Foy, who was stay- 
 ing with a maiden aunt in a cottage just on the 
 outskirts of the park. 
 
 Captain Philip Foy had found Mr. Wroughton's 
 society agreeable enough before the Harewoods' 
 arrival, and since then had never lost an opportu- 
 nity of coming to the house. If he had intended 
 to tear himself away from his invalid aunt before 
 he made Tiny's acquaintance, he certainly never 
 contemplated such a sacrifice afterwards. He 
 certainly knew of places where he could have 
 better shooting, and many with more congenial 
 men companions, but it pleased him better to re- 
 main at Windsor, and to see what impression he 
 could make upon the warm, subtle, and half-per- 
 verse nature of Tiny Harewood. 
 
 Of course Captain Foy never meant *' anything 
 serious." To begin with, he considered himself 
 too poor to marry, and when he did commit that 
 fatal act he intended it to be a stepping-stone to 
 his interests, which a marriage with a Miss Hare- 
 wood was not likely, in his opinion, to afford. 
 
 Unfortunately poor Tiny mistook Captain Foy's 
 intentions. His brilliant social and intellectual 
 qualities so completely captivated her that she soon 
 fell violently in love with him, and believed he 
 was equally so with her. 
 
 Tiny Harewood was no ordinary girl, and per- 
 
A Reed Shaken with the Wind. 21 
 
 versity was one of her chief characteristics. 
 'Making sure that she was loved, and not feehng 
 inclined to confess her own sentiments even to 
 herself, she so teased, tormented, and worried the 
 usually triumphant Captain Foy, that his love- 
 making was often earnest enough, and once or 
 twice he was nearly tempted to propose to her in 
 spite of his firm resolution to keep within the lim- 
 its which he had prescribed for himself. 
 
 One week followed another so rapidly, and the 
 time passed so quickly while every day brought 
 with it some mutual pleasure, that Easter arrived 
 without a word from Tiny respecting her return 
 home. 
 
 A summons, however, from her mother came at 
 last, and though Captain Foy knew that Tiny's 
 visit, like everything else in this world, had come to 
 an end, he contented himself with being addition- 
 ally tender, and even managed to kiss her in their 
 parting interview in the shrubbery. 
 
 Wilfred, the useful cousin Wilfred, came down 
 for Tiny and brought her back to London, which 
 already gave symptoms of a gay and early season, 
 and where she found her mother and sisters pre- 
 pared for another campaign. 
 
 Tiny expected that before very long Captain 
 Foy would contrive to call at Grosvenor Crescent. 
 She knew it would be perfectly easy for him to 
 find a hundred excuses for doing so, but that 
 brave officer had no wish to, put himself again in 
 
22 A Reed Shaken with the Wind. 
 
 temptation. He felt disposed to think that while 
 he had managed to amuse himself very pleasantly 
 during the winter, and enjoyed drawing out all 
 Tiny's exquisite coquetries, he had very mercifully 
 and wonderfully been kept within proper limits, in 
 not having positively made ** a fool of himself" by 
 a definite offer of marriage. 
 
 Recognizing the nearness of the danger, how- 
 ever, he determined to avoid Miss Tiny Harewood 
 in future, and resolved to start another vehement 
 flirtation (for which, by the bye, he had a great 
 reputation) directly he got to London. He was 
 all the more inclined to do this when he found how 
 much he really missed Tiny's society, for he began 
 to fear that he had not come out as scathless from 
 this little episode as he at first fondly imagined. 
 
 All this time poor Tiny wondered why Captain 
 Foy never called. Sometimes she fancied he 
 would come on a particular afternoon, and then 
 she would resolutely stay at home. Once, when 
 she did this, she found her mother and sisters had 
 met him at the very afternoon reception to which 
 she refused to go, because she made up her mind 
 that the fastidious Captain Foy was sure not to go 
 to the Westbrooks, wherever else he might be. 
 
 At last, however, they met at Lady Howard's 
 dance, but Captain Foy appeared so engrossed 
 with Miss Peel that he only bowed when he first 
 saw Tiny. The partner she had been dancing 
 with had just brought her back to Lady Harewood, 
 
A Reed Shaken ivitJi the Wind. 23 
 
 who told her, as a pleasant piece of information 
 which would greatly interest her, that Captain 
 Foy was desperately in love with General Peel's 
 daughter, and added, '*it is everywhere reported 
 'that they are engaged." 
 
 Poor Tiny ! She felt as if all the brightness in 
 her life had gone out, and that it would be im- 
 possible for her to know another happy moment. 
 Her pride rebelled against the feeling that Captain 
 Foy had only trifled with her affection, and her 
 one comfort was in the thought that none of her 
 home circle would ever know the deep and lasting 
 impression which had been made upon her dur- 
 ing her ever to be remembered visit to Windsor. 
 
 Turning to Wilfred, who came to claim her 
 hand for the next waltz. Tiny was soon dancing 
 with him, apparently the gayest and most light- 
 hearted girl in the room ; and so well had she con- 
 trolled her emotion, that when Captain Foy came 
 up and spoke to her, she never even changed 
 color, but answered him with such perfect friendli- 
 ness and ease, that he was unable to flatter himself 
 (which gave that gallant soldier a momentary pang 
 of disappointment) that Tiny had come out less 
 heartwhole than he had from a flirtation for which 
 he would most certainly have been called to ac- 
 count, but for Mr. Wroughton's deafness, and 
 Mrs. Wroughton's absence from the rides and 
 walks during which it had taken place — to say 
 nothing of the numerous casual meetings in the 
 
24 A Reed Shaken with the Wind. 
 
 shrubberies and park, of which they had both 
 been kept in complete ignorance. 
 
 But whatever appeared on the surface, poor 
 Tiny's heart ached enough below, and it was many 
 a long day before it ceased to pain her. At first 
 she took refuge in the most violent barefaced flir- 
 tations with the numerous suitors who were only 
 too eager to secure her notice, and she certainly 
 seemed more than likely to fulfil the amiable pro- 
 phecies of her lady friends. 
 
 It was in vain that Lady Harewood expostu- 
 lated, in her feeble fretful way, at these unseemly 
 proceedings, or that Tiny's sisters interfered. 
 Tiny was determined to flirt, and Tiny did flirt, 
 and once or twice she even passed the boundaries 
 of flirtation and inflicted on honest hearts the pain 
 she had herself experienced. 
 
 But Tiny's nature was really too good long to 
 remain satisfied with this kind of life. Gradually 
 her manner quieted down, and she seemed less in- 
 clined to take part in the different gayeties which 
 were going on, but entered, with a feeling more 
 akin to joy than anything she had felt since the 
 Windsor visit, into her cousin Wilfred's intellectual 
 pursuits and pleasures. 
 
 Wilfred Lane's delight was unbounded. Shut 
 out by his delicate health from the hardier games 
 and amusements of boys, books had always been 
 the world he really lived in, and when he saw with 
 daily increasing satisfaction that Tiny was being 
 
A Reed Shake ft with the Wind. 25 
 
 drawn towards him, he gladly provided anything 
 she cared to study, or read aloud to her while she 
 worked or drew, much to the amused amazement 
 of her sisters, who were, however, greatly relieved 
 by seeing Tiny's whims taking a quieter and far 
 less conspicuous turn. 
 
 Wilfred's greatest delight was in art, and though 
 he never had produced anything himself, his ap- 
 preciation and passionate love of painting had al- 
 ready gained him a considerable reputation as a 
 critic, not only amongst his own immediate friends, 
 but in the best literary circle. It therefore excited 
 no surprise in Lady Harewood's mind when she 
 saw Tiny studying Ruskin's "Modern Painters," 
 preparatory to frequent expeditions with her 
 cousin to the National Gallery — a place, be it re- 
 marked, strangely neglected by English people who 
 crowd to the annual exhibitions of the Royal 
 Academy, and profess to value good paintings, and 
 sigh for Italy and the foreign places which contain 
 them. 
 
 These were happy days for Wilfred, for he had 
 an apt scholar, and his whole heart was in his 
 work. 
 
 3 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 ** The fountains mingle with the river 
 And the rivers with the ocean, 
 The winds of heaven mix forever 
 With a sweet emotion ; 
 Nothing in the world is single ; 
 All things by, a law divine 
 In one another's being mingle — 
 Why not I with thine ? " 
 
 Percy Bysshe Shelley. 
 
 Tiny, perhaps, may not have felt absolutely 
 happy, and she certainly was not exaltee, but she 
 did feel she was living in a purer, higher atmos- 
 phere, and the worldliness of her mother and the 
 frivolity of her sisters' pursuits began to grate 
 upon her accordingly. She was beginning, too, to 
 have a stronger feeling for her cousin than she had 
 at first thought at all possible ; and when she 
 compared Wilfred's generous, unselfish character 
 with others, and felt the influence of the high tone 
 of mind which he brought to bear upon everything 
 with which he came in contact, she could not help 
 feeling his superiority to most of the men she ever 
 knew — Captain Foy included. 
 
 One afternoon late in the summer Wilfred and 
 
A Reed Shake Ji with the Wind. 2/ 
 
 Tiny were sitting in a sheltered nook in the Bel- 
 grave Square gardens, having borrowed the key 
 (a not unusual habit) from the Eliots. Wilfred 
 had been reading aloud some of Mrs. Browning's 
 ** Sonnets from the Portuguese," and when he 
 came to xliii. he paused, for he did not think he 
 could trust himself to read it to Tiny. It was his 
 favorite sonnet, and exactly expressed his feeling 
 for his cousin. 
 
 Tiny, however, was imperative, especially when 
 she saw that the page was marked, and a date 
 written on it which her cousin refused to explain. 
 At last he began — 
 
 ** How do I love thee ? Let me count the ways. 
 I love thee to the depth and breadth and height 
 My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight 
 For the ends of Being and ideal grace. 
 I love thee to the level of every day's 
 Most quiet need, by sun and candle light. 
 I love thee freely, as men strive for Right. 
 I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise. 
 I love thee with the passion put to use 
 In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith. 
 I love thee with a love I seemed to lose 
 With my dead Saints — I love thee with the breath, 
 Smiles, tears, of all my life ! — and, if God choose, 
 I shall but love thee better after Death." 
 
 As Wilfred read these lines in a voice of sub- 
 dued passion, the truth which had lately been 
 dawning upon Tiny's mind came to her in its full- 
 
28 A Reed Shaken with the Wind. 
 
 est force. She knew that she was really loved, 
 not with the same kind of love with which Captain 
 Foy had deceived her and amused himself, but 
 with a love which was Wilfred's very life, and 
 which would enable him to make any sacrificCi of 
 his own feelings rather than wound or trouble her. 
 She was not excited by this knowledge, but she 
 was proud of having won Wilfred's affection ; and, 
 when he looked up, his cousin's eyes were fixed 
 upon his face, after that strange fashion of hers 
 which always made it difficult for him to control 
 himself He lost all power to do so now : — the 
 book fell from his hand, his arm stole round her 
 waist, and their lips met for the first time. 
 
 As Tiny walked back to Grosvenor Crescent 
 that afternoon she knew if she had not the full 
 measure of love to return, she had at least obtained 
 a heart which was hers completely. 
 
 But Tiny said nothing of this to her cousin ; she 
 kept to herself the unhappy episode with Captain 
 Foy, and allowed Wilfred Lane to suppose that his 
 love had been the first to awaken her own. 
 
 Now that Wilfred had been surprised into an 
 avowal to Tiny, he felt he must not keep it a 
 secret from her mother. Gathering up all his 
 courage he requested a few minutes' conversation 
 with his aunt after luncheon on the following Sun- 
 day ; but all the said courage seemed absolutely 
 
A Reed Shakeji with tJie Wind. 29 
 
 oozing out at his fingers' ends as he followed Lady 
 Harewood upstairs, through the drawing-rooms 
 into her little boudoir beyond. 
 
 Wilfred Lane knew that, with all her apparent 
 refinement, Lady Harewood could sometimes say 
 and do very rude things — so can every woman 
 whose school of manners has not been an honest 
 and true heart, but a smooth, false world. He 
 expected his intimation to meet with considerable 
 opposition, but he was utterly unprepared for the 
 uncourteous treatment he received. His relation- 
 ship, as well as his deep love for Tiny, gave him 
 an unusually strong motive for keeping a firm 
 hand over himself, and for passing by personali- 
 ties which any other man would have felt justified 
 in resenting, even from a lady who might, one 
 day, become his mother-in-law. 
 
 Lady Harewood's anger seemed only equalled 
 by her amazement. The idea of Wilfred's falling 
 in love with one of his cousins had never before 
 crossed her mind. She would as soon have ex- 
 pected a proposal from him to herself. 
 
 It was some time before she could at all seize 
 the idea, and when she had done so, half an hour 
 did not suffice for the expression of her wrath anc 
 disapprobation. 
 
 Accusing him of meanness and ingratitude, she 
 declared that, had his uncle lived, he would never 
 have dared to seek Tiny's love in such an under- 
 hand way, and wondered at his audacity in asking 
 
30 A Reed Shaken with the Wind. 
 
 her permission to take her daughter from '' the lap 
 of luxury " to such a home as he could offer. She 
 proceeded to comment upon Wilfred's position and 
 future prospects, and made allusions to his father 
 which he felt quite unbearable, and resolved to 
 answer when the torrent of words with which she 
 assailed him showed symptoms of abatement. 
 
 He was about to do so, when Tiny made her 
 appearance ; her mother's loud and angry tones 
 reached her in the drawing-room, and excited her 
 to such a degree that she felt she could not abide 
 the issue of the conversation, but must go and 
 take a share in it herself. 
 
 With a very pale face, and a quiet, determined 
 manner. Tiny informed her mother that she came 
 in to put a stop to any further difficulties, for she 
 had resolved on marrying Wilfred, and Wilfred 
 only; in token thereof she sat down by him, and, 
 taking his hand in hers, seemed to defy her 
 mother to offer any objection to such a conclusive 
 and womanly argument. 
 
 Lady Harewood was much disconcerted by 
 Tiny's entrance, but Wilfred felt considerably re- 
 lieved. He hoped her daughter's presence would 
 have some effect in inducing her to control her- 
 self. To tell the truth, he was positively alarmed 
 at this exhibition of temper, as his aunt's delicate 
 health and weak nerves were proverbial. Such a 
 paroxysm of excitement might even produce a fit, 
 he thought — a fainting, or hysterical scene, was 
 
A Reed SJiaken ivith the Wind. 31 
 
 was the least evil with which he expected the 
 afternoon to close. 
 
 It was one thing, however, for Lady Harewood 
 to vent her indignation upon an unprotected man, 
 whose position as her nephew made him singularly 
 defenceless — to say nothing of the unusual amount 
 of forbearance on which she knew she could count 
 — but with Tiny it was quite another thing. 
 
 Having relieved herself by an outburst upon 
 Wilfred, Lady Harewood was not going in her 
 present exhausted condition to do battle with a 
 young lady who was apt, under such circum- 
 stances, to get as excited as she did, and to return 
 blow for blow. She therefore rose to her full 
 height, and, with as much dignity as she could 
 muster, rang the bell, and resumed her seat in 
 silence. 
 
 When the old butler appeared, he was greatly 
 surprised at receiving an immediate order for Lady 
 Harewood's carriage. A Sunday afternoon drive 
 was not among his lady's usual practices, though 
 she did not scruple occasionally to require her car- 
 riage to take her to a quiet dinner-party. As 
 Watson shut the door. Lady Harewood turned to 
 Wilfred and requested him not to call before five 
 o'clock on the following Sunday, by which he 
 knew that he was expected to make himself scarce 
 at once. Without any hesitation he said good-by 
 to his aunt. While regretting that his wishes had 
 met with such decided disapprobation, he hoped 
 
32 A Reed Shaken zvith the Wind. 
 
 she would yet learn to look more favorably on his 
 suit, and, with a pressure of Tiny's hand, which 
 said more to her than a thousand words, he left 
 the room. 
 
 Before Lady Harewood effected her escape Tiny 
 heard the hall door close after Wilfred Lane. 
 Then she and her mother had a sharp passage of 
 arms, during which Tiny gave her to understand 
 that she loved Wilfred, and was determined to 
 marry him in spite of any opposition from the 
 family. 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 " Did'st thou but know the inly touch of love. 
 Thou would' st as soon go kindle fire with snow 
 As seek to quench the fire of love with words." 
 
 Shakespeare. 
 
 Lady Harewood was essentially a woman. 
 She felt it impossible to get through the rest of 
 the day without consulting somebody ; but, ready 
 as she was to seek advice, she was seldom in- 
 clined to follow it. 
 
 In the present instance her thoughts turned to 
 her husband's old friend Sir Anthony Claypole, 
 and she resolved at once to ask his opinion on this 
 unpleasant family difficulty. Wilfred's relation- 
 ship had given him such access to Tiny that of 
 course by this time they thoroughly understood 
 each other, and probably had done so for weeks 
 before the words were spoken which obliged them 
 to take her into their confidence. 
 
 Although she determined not to countenance 
 their "absurd and romantic attachment," Lady 
 Harewood felt it by no means easy to forbid her 
 husband's nephew the house. 
 
 On reaching Hyde Park Gardens, Lady Hare- 
 
34 A Reed Shaken ivith the Wind. 
 
 wood found her friends surrounded by their usual 
 number of Sunday-afternoon callers. She was 
 prepared for this, and had left orders with the 
 servants not to bring her carriage until half-past 
 six o'clock. 
 
 This would give her ample opportunity for a 
 quiet talk with Sir Anthony when the other 
 visitors had dispersed. At present she must of 
 course be content to join in the general conversa- 
 tion. 
 
 She thought that tiresome old Sir George Ful- 
 lar never would leave off discoursing upon the 
 epizootic, the number of horses he had lost, and 
 the curious ways in which the disease made its 
 appearance on his different farms ; but his depart- 
 ure was only the signal for Mrs. Redmarsh to 
 commence a minute description of the fits her 
 fourth baby had while cutting its teeth. Lady 
 Ashworth being announced, the conversation took 
 a political turn, until Mr. Hargrave drew every 
 one's attention to himself by some clever remarks 
 upon Lady Duff Gordon's '' Letters from Egypt." 
 He concluded by calling Lady DufT Gordon a 
 most affected person, because the first sentence he 
 saw on opening her book was, '* I put my head 
 out of the window this morning and delighted in 
 the smell of the camels." Havin"" lived a loner 
 time in the East, Mr. Hargrave proceeded to tell 
 stories about camels, which tended to dispel any 
 preconceived notions of the patience and docihty 
 
A Reed Shaken zuilh the Wind. 35 
 
 of these animals, and certainly cast a serious re- 
 flection upon Lady Duff Gordon's olfactory 
 nerves. 
 
 The drawing-rooms, however, were cleared at 
 last, and then Lady Harewood told her friends her 
 urgent reasons for seeking their advice. 
 
 It was so late when Lady Harewood returned 
 home that there was hardly time to dress for din- 
 ner, which was more formal and uninteresting 
 than usual. 
 
 Charlotte and Madeline had already guessed 
 that their mother was ruffled by something of 
 considerable importance, and Tiny felt but little 
 inclined to enliven them by her ordinary sallies. 
 It was a strange thing for Tiny to give way to de- 
 pression, her spirits being in general equal to any 
 emergency. 
 
 When the servants left the room after serving 
 the dessert, Lady Harewood informed her daugh- 
 ters of the cause of Wilfred's non-appearance, 
 and the sisters ascertained the correctness of their 
 conclusions respecting Tiny's silence and red 
 eyes. 
 
 Now, Charlotte had views of her own for Tiny. 
 There was a certain young baronet, with ;^I0,000 
 a year, who was desperately in love with her 
 sister ; and as Charlotte had discovered, after 
 many exertions worthy of a better cause, that he 
 would not transfer his affections to herself, she 
 was extremely anxious to promote his wishes, and 
 
36 A Reed Shaken with the Wind. 
 
 induce Tiny to become Lady Fairfax, and mistress 
 of Downshire Hall, which she promised herself to 
 enliven by her own presence at seasons when the 
 county races and hunt balls made Buckingham- 
 shire more than usually attractive. She did not 
 feel in the least inclined to upset these pleasant 
 visions for the sake of Wilfred's proposal, and 
 accordingly came forward at once on her mother's 
 side, and expressed herself bound to consider 
 Tiny's real good rather than her present supposed 
 happiness ; and though Madeline was less inclined 
 to take an active part in the opposition to her 
 sister's wishes, especially when she saw her little 
 pleading face, she did not feel more disposed than 
 Charlotte to accept her cousin for a brother-in- 
 law. 
 
 Madeline also entertained strong opinions about 
 the marriages of cousins, and believed that their 
 children were always idiotic or blind, and she 
 honestly thought the good-natured Sir Guy Fair- 
 fax, with his comfortable rent-roll, a much more 
 suitable match. Wilfred was already like a 
 brother, and it certainly would be much better to 
 strengthen the position of the family by an 
 entirely new alliance. 
 
 But Tiny had been too long accustomed to have 
 her own way to yield to it on this occasion, so 
 she startled them all with the somewhat bold an- 
 nouncement that she " would rather never see her 
 mother or sisters again than be parted from Wil- 
 
A Reed Shaken with the Whtd. 37 
 
 fred for a week." Retiring from the antagonistic 
 conclave she took refuge in her own room, from 
 whence she despatched a note to her cousin assur- 
 ing him of her affection, and saying that nothing 
 would induce her to change her mind, for her 
 whole happiness was centred in looking forward 
 to a life spent with him as his wife. 
 
 When Tiny left the room, Lady Harewood and 
 her elder daughters withdrew to the library, which 
 they generally inhabited on Sunday evenings. 
 She then told them of her visit to the Claypoles, 
 and how Sir Anthony had long ago suspected 
 Wilfred's attachment to Tiny, but had not noticed 
 it openly, fearing that to do so might bring about 
 the very result so deprecated by Lady Harewood. 
 Of course Sir Anthony felt Wilfred's prospects 
 made it natural for Tiny's mother to object to his 
 proposal ; at the same time he observed that no 
 friend of the family could do otherwise than rejoice 
 at the change which had come over Tiny during 
 the last few weeks. 
 
 In common with many others, he had noticed 
 her previous flirtations, and had felt considerable 
 anxiety about her. He was often annoyed by re- 
 marks made at his club by men who did not spare 
 Tiny Harewood, but attributed her open and fool- 
 ish transgression of the ordinary conventionalities 
 of society to an evil and wicked disposition which 
 would some day break loose altogether. 
 
 Although disinclined to place much faith in 
 
3^ A Reed Shaken with the Wind. 
 
 Tiny's protestations of attachment to her cousin, 
 vSir Anthony Claypole feared that direct opposi- 
 tion would be the very way to fan the flame. He 
 did not believe in the result of interference with 
 the young lady herself, but recommended Lady 
 Harewood to work through Wilfred, who would, 
 he thought, see the delicacy of his aunt's posi- 
 tion, and the injury which would be inflicted on 
 Tiny if he persisted in holding her to an engage- 
 ment of which her mother so thoroughly disap- 
 proved. 
 
 Before Lady Harewood left Hyde Park Gardens 
 she had (after judicious allusions to the lamented 
 Sir Henry's opinion of his friend's judgment, and 
 her own unprotected condition) induced Sir An- 
 thony to promise that he would see the young 
 man, and place the matter before him from her 
 point of view. 
 
 Accordingly the post which brought Wilfred 
 Lane little Tiny's loving note, also conveyed to 
 him an invitation to dine at Hyde Park Gardens 
 on the following Tuesday ; and, failing that, he 
 was requested to name an early day for seeing Sir 
 Anthony " on business of importance, undertaken 
 at Lady Harewood's request." 
 
 Wilfred had no particular engagement for that 
 evening, and impatiently waited for the time to 
 arrive when he should hear his aunt's decision. 
 He felt glad to think she had chosen Sir Anthony 
 Claypole for her mouthpiece, as he knew this 
 
A Reed Shake^t with the Wind. 39 
 
 would give him a fair opportunity of stating his 
 own case, and prevent a repetition of the scene 
 which had so dismayed him on Sunday after- 
 noon. 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 •* Love took up the glass of Time, and turned it in his glowing 
 
 hands ; 
 Every moment, lightly shaken, ran itself in golden sands. 
 Love took up the harp of Life, and smote on all the chords with 
 
 might ; 
 Smote the chord of Self, that, trembling, pass'd in music out of 
 
 sight." 
 
 Alfred Tennyson. 
 
 •* He either fears his fate too much. 
 Or his deserts are small, 
 Who dares not put it to the touch 
 To win or lose it all." 
 
 Marquis of Montrose. 
 
 As Wilfred Lane walked home that Tuesday 
 night across the park, he was not in an enviable 
 state of mind. 
 
 Sir Anthony Claypole had conscientiously ful- 
 filled his promise to his friend, and had brought 
 before her nephew, in very decided language, 
 every obstacle he could think of to the proposed 
 marriage. He did not allow that he was at all 
 shaken by the young man's arguments, nor per- ' 
 mit Wilfred to see he had more than half won 
 
A Reed Shaken with the WiJtd. 41 
 
 over Lady Harewood's own advocate to his view 
 of the case. 
 
 Wilfred Lane was clear upon one point only. 
 In spite of all his shortcomings, and the errors 
 into which, like most young men of his class, he 
 had fallen, he felt himself not altogether unworthy 
 of Tiny. He could offer her a pure strong love, 
 and believed that, notwithstanding his position, a 
 marriage with him would really be the best thing 
 for her. 
 
 Wilfred was thoroughly in love, but his love did 
 not altogether blind him to his cousin's failings. 
 He knew she was terribly inclined to certain faults 
 which might lead her into grave dangers, and 
 that, with a most impulsive nature, she was just 
 one of those girls who will be either very good or 
 very bad — they know no medium — and are gener- 
 ally the latter, if their better and higher tastes are 
 unsatisfied. 
 
 While Wilfred shrank from inducing Tiny to 
 share with him a life of pecuniary difficulty and 
 self-denial, he knew her well enough to feel that 
 material ease was not over good for her, and that 
 her character specially needed a home with a 
 purer atmosphere than that of Grosvenor Cres- 
 cent. 
 
 While capable of feeling a distaste for the gen- 
 eral tone of London society. Tiny was yet liable 
 to grow flippant in her own ideas and feelings, 
 unless encouraged to live in the deeper part of 
 
42 A Reed Shaken zvith the Wind. 
 
 life instead of on its mere surface. Nevertheless, 
 she could scarcely become one of those anomalies, 
 so often met with and yet so strange, which puzzle 
 the moralist not by badness (which, alas ! would 
 be no anomaly at all), but by their power hanging 
 on at such a very singular place in the scale of vir- 
 tues and vices — a place which entirely ignores in- 
 dividuality ; the result, probably, of living in and 
 for society, and of never raising the thoughts to 
 any high ideal, or letting them sink to the real 
 passions of inner human life ; but which, by fol- 
 lowing a meek dead idea of duty, maintain, in 
 fact, the state which the word ''respectability" 
 best expresses. 
 
 Tiny Harewood was not one who would remain 
 in a class of *' respectables," which is ruled by a 
 standard of right and wrong, made for the mass 
 rather than the individual ; so that Wilfred often 
 feared, unless helped to strive after her own high- 
 est ideal, she would free herself altogether and be- 
 come utterly reckless. He had watched her very 
 closely of late, and though he had not the key to 
 her^wildness during the past year, it had caused 
 him much anxiety and pain. When she turned 
 from the frivolity and excitement of a fashionable 
 life, which seemed to have such a bad effect upon 
 her, he felt bound to give her all the help he 
 could ; and when that help had developed into 
 love, he did not think himself justified in allowing 
 a false spirit of honor to come between them. 
 
A Reed Shaken with the Wind. 43 
 
 It was true that, in comparison to Tiny, who 
 inherited from her father an income of ;^8oo a 
 year, he was poor, and Hkely to remain so ; and it 
 was anything but pleasant to a man of Wilfred 
 Lane's sensitive nature to feel that his wife's in- 
 come must go towards the mutual expenses of 
 their home, instead of being devoted to the in- 
 dulgence of her personal whims and fancies. 
 
 Then, too, he knew of Sir Guy Fairfax's attach- 
 ment to Tiny, and could not shut his eyes to the 
 advantages of such a connection to the family. 
 When he thought over the many kindnesses he 
 had received from his aunt, he shrank from the 
 very idea of acting in an apparently ungrateful 
 manner. 
 
 Essentially a proud man, Wilfred Lane felt 
 almost tempted to relinquish his own happiness, 
 and most probably would have done so but that 
 he felt assured that Tiny had given him what she 
 could never give to any other man — the first love 
 of a very passionate nature. To resign this from 
 a feeling of false honor, was to do her an injury 
 for which no worldly advantage or position could 
 ever atone, and Wilfred resolved never to do so. 
 
 Sir Anthony Claypole had not been unreason- 
 able in his arguments, nor weakly violent like 
 Lady Harewood, and Wilfred Lane spent the 
 greater part of that night in battling with his own 
 passionate love for his cousin, and in trying to see 
 the matter from an unselfish point of view. 
 
44 A Reed Shaken with the Wi7td. 
 
 As morning dawned, he became somewhat 
 calmer, and, Hghting a cigar, determined upon fol- 
 lowing the course of action which at last sug- 
 gested itself to his mind. 
 
 Lady Harewood had often talked of going to 
 Rome — he would himself propose that she should 
 do so this winter. Rome would be full of interests 
 for Tiny — interests which could not fail to be good 
 for her. If a marriage with him were really essen- 
 tial, a six-months' absence in such a place could 
 do her no harm, and, in entirely different circum- 
 stances, she could follow more easily those pur- 
 suits and pleasures which seemed in keeping with 
 her better nature. If, on the other hand, Tiny's 
 love for him was less genuine than he believed it, 
 such a separation would be a sure test, especially 
 as he knew that, whether in Rome or London, the 
 Harewoods would see plenty of society, and would 
 certainly lose no opportunity of trying to wean his 
 cousin's affections from himself 
 
 The more Wilfred Lane thought of the self- 
 sacrifice such a plan entailed the more he inclined 
 to it, and though he knew Tiny must at first share 
 with him the pain such a separation involved, he 
 consoled himself with the reflection that her nat- 
 ural vivacity and light-heartedness, and the vivid 
 pleasure which she took in every passing occur- 
 rence, would considerably diminish any suffering 
 on her part, to say nothing of the intense delight 
 
A Reed Shake Jt with the Wind. 45 
 
 a visit to Rome would be certain to afford a nature 
 like hers. 
 
 Wilfred determined to see Sir Anthony Clay- 
 pole before breakfast, for, like all lovers, his busi- 
 ness appeared to him important enough to war- 
 rant an unusually early intrusion. After a couple 
 of hours' sleep, refreshed by a bath and a cup of 
 coffee, he soon crossed the Park, and, sending up 
 his card, requested Sir Anthony to see him, as 
 he had something of importance to say respecting 
 their conversation on the previous night. 
 
 Sir Anthony Claypole thought Wilfred's pro- 
 posal very reasonable — to say the truth, he was 
 rather proud of the good result of his interference, 
 and willingly undertook to see Lady Harewood 
 during the day. 
 
 Wilfred wished his aunt to give him an early 
 interview, but first to allow him to see Tiny alone. 
 
 '* If," said he, '* my aunt will agree to what is 
 reasonable and fair, I will be patient ; but I have 
 determined not to sacrifice Tiny to pride on my 
 part, or mere worldliness on hers." 
 
 True to his promise. Sir Anthony Claypole de- 
 livered the spirit of Wilfred Lane's message, but 
 wisely suppressed the form of it. He advised 
 Lady Harewood to adopt the plan suggested by 
 her nephew, and agreed with her in thinking that 
 such a separation would probably bring about the 
 desired end. If it failed to do so. Sir Anthony 
 hoped Lady Harewood would no longer oppose 
 
46 A Reed Shaken with the Wind. 
 
 the marriage. On this point, however, Tiny's 
 mother was silent ; she was content to accept 
 Wilfred's sacrifice, and if that did not succeed, she 
 would try some plan of her own. 
 
 When Tiny heard the winter was to be spent 
 in Rome without Wilfred, she was furious. 
 " Nothing would induce her to go," " she would 
 sooner be a governess," *'go on the stage," 
 "sweep a crossing" — do anything, in short, 
 rather than leave London, and it took a great 
 many conversations (which, perhaps, Wilfred did 
 not regret) to persuade her to yield. 
 
 At last, however, it was settled, and Tiny's 
 unwilling consent given, on condition that she 
 should be free to write to and hear from Wilfred 
 during her absence, and that no opposition should 
 be made to their marriage on her return. 
 
 To these conditions Sir Anthony gave his full 
 consent ; but then he was not her mother, or even 
 her guardian. Still he was an important ally, 
 and he undertook to do all he could to obtain 
 Lady Harewood's concurrence. She, like a wise 
 general, hastened the departure, and managed to 
 effect it without having given any positive prom- 
 ise ; but Wilfred quieted Tiny by his belief 
 that her mother tacitly accepted the conditions 
 in following out the course suggested by himself. 
 
 The morning came for leaving London, and 
 Wilfred Lane received a reluctant permission to 
 accompany his aunt and cousins as far as Folke- 
 
A Rccd SJiaken with the Wind. 47 
 
 stone. Partly because Sir Anthony had good- 
 naturedly interceded for him, but chiefly because 
 Lady Harewood's courier was to join her in 
 Paris, and, as she told Charlotte, ** it was very 
 inconvenient to have only a maid to help them 
 with their bags and dressing-cases from the rail- 
 way to the pier." 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 ** With weary steps I loiter on, 
 Tho' always under alter'd skies 
 The purple from the distance dies, 
 My prospect and horizon gone. 
 
 Oh yet we trust that somehow good 
 WiU be the final goal of ill." 
 
 In Memoriam. 
 
 Wilfred Lane was undergoing no ordinary- 
 struggle. Looking across the English Channel 
 in the direction where he last saw the Boulogne 
 steamer, he realized in its fullest force the sacrifice 
 he had made ; and when he thought over the 
 possible results of this separation almost regretted 
 having insisted on Tiny's leaving him, and ac- 
 cused himself of allowing his pride — which re- 
 sented his aunt's imputation of" taking advantage 
 of his position in the house to get Tiny completely 
 under his personal influence " — to conquer his 
 judgment. 
 
 Now the deed was really done he almost 
 repented of it altogether, and there were mo- 
 ments when he contemplated following the Hare- 
 woods by the next boat. 
 
A Reed Shaken zvitJi the Wind. 49 
 
 He knew Tiny's fine and ardent nature needed 
 a better direction than it was likely to receive 
 from her mother and sisters ; and when the 
 balance is not struck between aspirations and 
 the power Avhich is able to realize them, a half- 
 developed mind, no longer satisfied with common 
 life, and to which some excitement is necessary, 
 will seek its gratification in emotions and pleas- 
 ures which are always dangerous and sometimes 
 guilty. 
 
 Tiny Harewood still needed the constant pres- 
 ence of some wise loving counsellor to induce her 
 to accept the " better part," and Wilfred could 
 scarcely think with calmness over the dangers 
 of repressed capabilities and unsatisfied desires 
 which, for want of being helped towards the good 
 and true, too often fix themselves on the bad and 
 false. An incomplete development is a dangerous 
 stage — a higher horizon is discerned, but there 
 is not sufficient strength to reach it. 
 
 Wilfred felt but little comfort at this moment 
 
 in remembering that in making his decision he 
 
 had really tried to choose what appeared the 
 
 best for Tiny, and that her mother considered he 
 
 had succeeded in doing so. After all Tiny was 
 
 bound to be subject to her mother, and an open 
 
 defiance of a parent's wishes was not what Wilfred, 
 
 would lightly encourage. A compromise at 
 
 present was all that could be thought of, and that 
 
 entailed this Roman visit. 
 8 
 
50 A Reed Shaken with the Wind. 
 
 Another thought also crossed his mind. If 
 Tiny could not stand the test of a six-months' 
 separation, was her love really deep enough to 
 enable her to share a whole life with him, without 
 regretting her choice when the charms of novelty 
 and satisfied affection had given place to the 
 difficulties which find their way into the happiest 
 home? If this were so, would he not be under- 
 taking more responsibility than he ought — more 
 indeed than he was capable of? 
 
 Walking slowly down the hill, Wilfred Lane 
 went to the restaurant of the Pavilion Hotel, 
 where he lunched, before returning to the station. 
 He had arranged to stop on the line to see an 
 old friend, now a country parson with a wife 
 and one or two olive branches. He left Folke- 
 stone by the tidal express, and when the train 
 stopped at the Red Hill Station, the Rev. Henry 
 Frampton was waiting for him in a very unor- 
 thodox dog-cart, with the pleasing intelligence 
 that Mrs. Frampton had presented him with a fine 
 little son early that morning. 
 
 So Lane had just come in time to enjoy a cosey 
 bachelor dinner with Harry Frampton, and it 
 must be confessed that the young Rector rejoiced 
 in the idea of a long talk over old school-days 
 with his class-mate, accompanied by an unlimited 
 supply of pipes and whiskey, for which he would 
 not be called to account by his wife. 
 
 And a good talk they had far into the night, al- 
 
A Reed Shaken iviiJi the Wind. 51 
 
 though Wilfred avoided the subject nearest his 
 heart, and Frampton's conversation was somewhat 
 altered — perhaps for the better, since his college 
 days — in spite of the nursery anecdotes, for exam- 
 ple, which now formed a new and not unimportant 
 item, but among these he told a story for which 
 Lane was willing to forgive the rest. The birth 
 of the new brother had duly been announced to 
 little Katie Frampton by her father, and not very 
 many minutes after he left the nursery, the child was 
 found on her knees praying that ** another little 
 baby might be sent directly." It was also strange, 
 when talking over the world and its ways and set- 
 tling that it was better if possible to live your own 
 life out of it, to hear Harry Frampton assert an 
 entire belief in his wife's opinion that ** the queer- 
 ness of the age was to be attributed to the in- 
 troduction of the new feeding-bottles, which en- 
 abled babies six months old to feed themselves." 
 
 The next morning Wilfred returned to London 
 by an early train. He had little opportunity, 
 however, to indulge his own reflections, thanks to 
 the pertinacy of a fellow-traveller — a man with a 
 shining countenance and a double chin — who per- 
 sisted in making, with a self-satisfied air, the most 
 commonplace observations upon the appropriate- 
 ness and use of all things in nature. When this 
 man remarked that "trees were green because 
 green is good for the eyes," Wilfred could no 
 longer refrain from quoting Heine's answer on a 
 
52 A Reed S J taken with the Wind. 
 
 similar occasion ; and, assenting to his compan- 
 ion's proposition, he added that ** cattle were 
 made because beef soup strengthened man, that 
 jackasses were created to serve as comparisons, 
 and that man existed that he might eat beef soup 
 and realize that he was no jackass ; " a quotation 
 which freed him from further interruption, and 
 doubtless gave the possessor of appropriate ideas 
 sufficient food for thought during the rest of the 
 journey. 
 
 By a few minutes after ten o'clock Wilfred Lane 
 was at his place in the War Office ; everything be- 
 longing to his outward life was going on in the 
 same way ; people were coming in and out, the 
 usual amount of business was being transacted, 
 London was as full as ever, but yet to him life 
 seemed going on with its heart out. 
 
 He got through his work, and after dinner 
 strolled .into the Haymarket Theatre. Feeling 
 disinclined to read and incapable of writing, he 
 thought while his pain was fresh it was wiser to 
 distract his mind from his own griefs by the rep- 
 resentation of unreal ones, than to brood over the 
 events of the last two days and their probable 
 effects. 
 
CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 ••WiLHELM VON HuMBOLDT says, 'Old letters lose their vi- 
 tality.' 
 
 **Not true. It is because they retain their vitality that it is so 
 dangerous to keep some letters — so wicked to burn others." 
 
 Mrs. Jameson. 
 
 Five days after Wilfred's return from Folke- 
 stone he found a foreign letter on his breakfast- 
 table. He opened it and read as follows : 
 
 *• Marseilles, Wednesday, 
 
 " I watched till I saw only one person left on 
 the pier. Was that you ? It isn't the pain of 
 parting which is the worst to bear, darling Wil, it 
 is finding out more and more the loneliness of life 
 without the one whom I love best, and love most 
 in the every-day commonplace hours of life, no, 
 not commonplace when my own W;l is near, to 
 sweeten and purify every moment. This is eating 
 the very hardest bread and cheese of life after the 
 sweetest fruits of true love. 
 
 " I slept a little in the train to Paris, and woke 
 realizing more than I had hitherto done that the 
 part of myself I most cared to call my own was 
 
54 ^ Reed Shaken with the Wmd. 
 
 every moment being left farther behind. After 
 our night's rest in Paris, mamma determined on 
 coming straight through to Marseilles, and we cer- 
 tainly managed the journey with as little fatigue as 
 it is possible to imagine. I slept nearly all the 
 night, which helped to make the sixteen hours 
 pass more quickly ; we got here at half-past twelve 
 in the morning, and, to make up for any rest we 
 might have lost, we had fourteen hours' real sleep 
 last night. 
 
 *' I enjoyed looking out of the windows as the 
 sun rose — such a blue sky and bright sun. The 
 country is very pretty between Lyons and Mar- 
 seilles. You see the Alps in the distance covered 
 with snow, and the railway runs for some time 
 along the Rhone, and the pink light made it all so 
 pretty. 
 
 ** Mamma retired early, and Charlotte said such 
 very aggravating things about you that it ended 
 in our having a regular quarrel, after which we all 
 went to bed. Mamma telling me through the 
 door that I talked so loud it made her head ache, 
 which I thought very unfair, having said one word 
 to Charlotte's twenty, and about the same propor- 
 tion in sound. After this little excitement I slept 
 for thirteen hours, and then thought I would have 
 some breakfast in bed to recover my equilibrium. 
 Madeline came to mc afterwards and read ' Co- 
 rinne ' while I dressed, and then we all trotted out 
 and went to the top of a hill, from which we had a 
 
A Red Shaken with the Wind. 55 
 
 most splendid view of the town and hill behind, 
 and the sea and bay of Marseilles in front. It is 
 really a very handsome town, and I enjoyed my 
 walk as much as I could without my own arm to 
 lean on. 
 
 " I suppose you are back at your work. I hope 
 you will repent of your cruelty in sending your 
 unhappy little Tiny away. If you had been me, 
 and I you, I am sure I should never have had the 
 heart to do it, and I don't believe you love me a 
 bit. But you will find it quite useless. Being 
 away from you only shows me how much I love 
 you, and I will never give you up unless you find 
 some one whom you love too well to send away 
 to Rome for a whole winter ; but you will never 
 find any one who will love you half as much as 
 your Tiny. 
 
 '' P.S. — If I don't find a long letter waiting for 
 me in Rome, I shall never forgive you. I hope 
 we shall have a good passage, the sea seems very 
 calm, and there is no wind at present." 
 
 Wilfred Lane was not the man to make a half 
 sacrifice. If Tiny could be induced to regard him 
 simply as a cousin, he determined never to hold 
 her to the repeated promises she had made since 
 that day in the Belgrave Square gardens, when he 
 betrayed his love. In suggesting this six-months' 
 absence, he felt that her mother and sisters would 
 have every opportunity to influence her ultimate 
 decision, and that Tiny herself, after the first pain 
 
56 A Reed Shaken with the Wind. 
 
 of parting, would be better able to judge of the 
 strength of her attachment when quite out of the 
 reach of his personal influence, which was, he knew, 
 of a very remarkable kind. 
 
 Wilfred was generally able, without any effort on 
 his part, to establish a sympathy between himself 
 and people with whom he came in contact, even if 
 they were previously prejudiced against him. 
 
 Without being handsome his face was decidedly 
 attractive, with a mass of rich brown hair brushed 
 back from a full, earnest brow. No one with any- 
 thing artistic in their composition could refrain 
 from watching the variety of expressions which 
 passed over his face in the course of an hour, and 
 women, especially, felt the power of his dark ex- 
 pressive eyes, through which a singularly deter- 
 mined will made itself understood, in spite of a 
 yielding manner. Yet to some people Wilfred's 
 chief fascination was in a voice, which was very 
 remarkable for its varied intonations. Of a med- 
 ium pitch, soft, yet exceedingly clear, and capable 
 of wonderful modulation, there was an irresistible 
 charm in his speaking voice, which even men con- 
 sidered " soothing," and which gave him an unus- 
 ually strong and often entirely unsought-for do- 
 minion over the other sex. 
 
 Recognizing the power of this personal influence 
 to a certain degree, though far from realizing its 
 full effects, Wilfred thought that while he could 
 never of his own free will have imposed such a test 
 
A Reed Shake it with the Wind. 57 
 
 upon Tiny Harewood, he did not feel it an unde- 
 sirable one, when he remembered her peculiarly 
 impulsive, impressionable nature. 
 
 Of course he knew that Tiny would be unhappy 
 at first, but unless he was really essential to her life 
 he questioned whether she would long remain so, 
 in a place which would be full of interest. He 
 therefore determined on leaving her while in Rome 
 as free as possible. If by assuming a quiet cous- 
 inly tone he could induce her to return to their old 
 relationship, he resolved to control himself and to 
 conquer his own deep love. 
 
 Nothing short of a whole-hearted efYbrt on his 
 part would satisfy his conscience, or justify the de- 
 cided opposition he intended to offer his aunt, 
 should Tiny remain true to the feeling she now 
 entertained for him, and Lady Harewood still re- 
 fuse her consent to their marriage. 
 
 Accordingly the letter which greeted Tiny on 
 her arrival in Rome quite astonished her. Instead 
 of any regrets over her departure, or groans over 
 his own loneliness, Wilfred simply acknowledged 
 her letter from Marseilles. After saying that he 
 had no London news or gossip of any description 
 to send, he added : '* If you care to please me you 
 will make yourself as happy as you can in Rome, 
 and you ought not to be miserable in such a place. 
 If you will throw yourself into the interests by 
 which you are surrounded, the time will pass all 
 the quicker, and you will not have to regret lost 
 
 3* 
 
58 A Reed Shaken with the Wind. 
 
 opportunities — opportunities which will scarcely 
 come again if you marry me. 
 
 " Do not think me cold, for it costs me more 
 than I dare tell you to urge what I think due to 
 you as well as to your mother. Remember, if at 
 any time during this absence you can persuade 
 yourself that your whole happiness is not bound 
 up in our mutual love, if you can possibly free 
 yourself from the feeling which at present binds 
 you to me, I implore you to do so. 
 
 ''Life, with me, will be very full of material 
 difficulties, and I could not bear to think I had put 
 out the sweet sunshine of your life. Do not come 
 back to me unless you feel certain that your love 
 for me is so strong that you could not be happy 
 without me. I shall not allude to this again, but 
 remember that, if now, — a little later, — or even 
 during your last week in Rome, you are able to 
 resume your old cousinly footing with me, I will 
 never blame you for it, but have myself invited 
 you to do so. 
 
 " But if, Tiny, you feel y^ur happiness com- 
 pletely linked with mine, the devotion of my entire 
 life shall be yours, and I shall never cease to thank 
 God for a blessing so great, that every outward trial 
 will be lost sight of in the sense of that deep joy." 
 
 When Tiny received this letter she almost felt 
 inclined to be angry with Wilfred. It was absurd 
 to suppose she should change. She loved her 
 cousin, and she meant to marry him, although she 
 
A Reed Shaken iviih the Wind. 59 
 
 knew she had once had a deeper feehng for 
 another. When she first reahzed that Captain 
 Foy had only trifled with her affection, she never 
 intended to marry anybody, and began to take an 
 interest in Wilfred without ever dreaming of car- 
 ing for him in the same passionate way. Gradu- 
 ally his love, from soothing her, became essential, 
 and her real sympathy with his tastes and pursuits 
 gave her a greater sense of rest and quiet than she 
 had yet experienced. 
 
 Even those who had put the worst construction 
 on Tiny's flirtations in the first days of her bitter 
 disappointment were less conscious than she was 
 herself of the innate wildness from which they 
 sprang — a wildness which was not very far from 
 developing into wickedness. Once or twice she 
 became so thoroughly reckless that even she had 
 been positively frightened. 
 
 In her calmer moments she longed for an influ- 
 ence strong enough to arrest her ; her own princi- 
 ples were too unformed, and her impulses far too 
 strong, ever to be controlled by the mere worldly 
 maxims which were the standard of her home, and 
 sufficed for less unmanageable natures. In spite 
 of the unusually strong physical temperament 
 which her early education, and the kind of life she 
 had led, developed, Tiny knew of another side 
 which Wilfred had called into fuller existence. 
 To cultivate this higher part of her character was 
 not only to satisfy her intense craving after what 
 
6o A Reed Shaken with the VViiid. 
 
 was really noble and pure, but she believed it to 
 be the only safeguard against temptations to which 
 she was strongly inclined. Too weak to trust her- 
 self, or to stand alone, she looked upon Wilfred's 
 love as a special Providence, from which, at first, 
 she dared not turn, and to which she fina'ly gladly 
 yielded herself, believing that her feeling ^r Cap- 
 tain Foy was the first passionate love whic \ is so 
 seldom realized in this world, and that hei affec- 
 tion for Wilfred was enough to satisfy her, ^ spe- 
 cially as he had already elicited a much stronger 
 response than she ever supposed she could give 
 any one else. That she had won the affections of 
 a man whose character she so intensely respected, 
 gratified her — the opposition she encountered from 
 her family aroused the perversity of her disposi- 
 tion, and her enforced separation kindled her im- 
 agination, until she forgot her past feeling in the 
 longing for the daily and hourly sympathy and 
 love she received from Wilfred, the want of which 
 now made such a void that her life seemed worth- 
 less unless shared with him. 
 
 It was true that her love for Captain Foy had 
 made a lasting impression, but it was also true that 
 at the present moment she was really in love with 
 Wilfred Lane. Tiny Harewood was not one of 
 those who love once and forever ; she lo\^ed with 
 her whole nature for the time being, but it was a 
 nature capable of " change upon change" — a nat- 
 ure often combined with vivid imagination and 
 
A Rccd Shaken ivitJi the Wind. 6i 
 
 intellectual power, but rarely united with the 
 depth and earnestness possessed by Tiny. Her 
 character was singularly intricate, and Wilfred, 
 fascinated by her childish grace and apparent 
 frankness, believed in the ultimate development of 
 the beautiful qualities which existed in rare profu- 
 sion among the baser elements of this peculiarly 
 gifted being. The finer the nature the more flaws 
 will it show through the clearness of it. The best 
 things are not often seen in their best form. The 
 wild grass grows well and strongly one year with 
 another, but the wheat is, by reason of its greater 
 nobleness, liable to the more bitter blight. 
 
 Wilfred often remembered a saying of Mrs, 
 Jameson's, as he thought over Tiny's character : 
 '* Good principles derive life and strength and 
 warmth from high and good passions ; they do not 
 give life, they only bind up life into a consistent 
 whole. We are not to take for granted that pas- 
 sions can only be bad, and are to be ignored and 
 repressed altogether — an old mischievous, monkish 
 doctrine." 
 
 The great thing was, not to inculcate principle, 
 but to train Tiny's feeling, and he could not prefer 
 a more perfect character in its narrower require- 
 ments to what appeared so much higher and 
 nobler, though mingled with many faults. He 
 believed that all Tiny really wanted was wdse guid- 
 ance, and that the past circumstances of her life 
 had exposed her to many dangers, especially to 
 
62 A Reed Shaken with the Wind. 
 
 the pursuit of false pleasure. He had watched 
 her abandon her early instinctive delight in true 
 pleasures, sacrificing her natural and pure enjoy- 
 ment to her pride, and he thought she had already 
 discovered that these were the bitterest apples of 
 Sodom on which she could feed. 
 
 It was very strange, but equally true, that Wil- 
 fred Lane, like many other men before hiip, lived 
 day by day by the side of her he loved best, and 
 never guessed the secret influence which acted in 
 such a powerful way on Tiny's soul, nor the hid- 
 den life carried on within the folds of her outward 
 existence. Had he done so — had he but known 
 the feelings with which Tiny still regarded Captain 
 Foy, and had glided into her present relation with 
 him, he might have acted differently ; and, instead of 
 giving her the choice of returning to him or other- 
 wise, he would have understood her divided heart 
 better than she did herself, and would have shown 
 a resolute regard for their future interests, in spite 
 of present suffering. He might not have blamed 
 her, for it is the propensity of an ardent nature 
 to love and trust notwithstanding disappointment, 
 just as a flower throws out fresh buds again and 
 again, only to be nipped by a killing frost ; but he 
 would never have treasured up the belief that he 
 had been the one to excite in Tiny's heart the 
 deepest feeling of her life, and that her nature, 
 once roused to a sense of his love, and giving such a 
 full and free response to it, could know no change. 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 "Fair Italy ! 
 ** Thou art the garden of the world, the home 
 Of all Art yields, and Nature can decree ; 
 Even in thy desert, what is like to thee ? 
 Thy very weeds are beautiful, thy waste 
 More rich than other climes' fertility ; 
 Thy wreck a glory, and thy ruin graced 
 
 With an immaculate charm which cannot be defaced. 
 • •••••• 
 
 Chaos of ruins ! 
 The ocean hath his chart, the stars their map, 
 And Knowledge spreads them on his ample lap ; 
 But Rome is as the desert — where we steer 
 Stumbling o'er recollections." 
 
 Lord Byron. 
 
 Perhaps few women would have appreciated 
 Wilfred Lane's letter if addressed to themselves. 
 They prefer to hear from their lovers how impos- 
 sible life is without them, and that, in spite of 
 parents or guardians, they will carry them off to 
 the other end of the world rather than give up the 
 being in whose existence their own is merged, and 
 that, if tempted by any one to prove unfaithful, ' 
 deeds of violence will ensue, for no revenge will 
 be too great for them to take upon any one who 
 supplants them in the heart of the " only woman 
 
64 A Reed Shaken with the Wind. 
 
 who has ever had sufficient power to kindle in 
 their own the undying flame of a deep and Hfe- 
 long attachment," — and so forth ! 
 
 Anyhow, Lady Harewood was probably the 
 only person in this instance who would have really 
 liked Wilfred's letter, had she seen it, and even 
 she would have thought it much more sensible if 
 the last sentence had been omitted. 
 
 It certainly did not please Tiny in her present 
 state of mind, and she resolved to express her 
 sentiments very clearly, and did so in the follow- 
 ing manner : 
 
 " Rome. 
 
 **You absurd, aggravating Wil, I don't know 
 if I ought not to be very angry with you. I shall 
 not have any consideration for your feelings, I 
 shall only consider my own, and come back to you 
 and claim my right to torment you for the rest of 
 your natural existence. I don't care what objec- 
 tions you like to raise ; never was your love so 
 necessary as it feels now, though, I daresay, it is 
 very improper and unlady-like of me to tell you 
 so. I think it is very unmanly of you to be afraid 
 of mamma and compel me to fight our battles or 
 allow you gracefully to retire from the field. No, 
 Mr. Wilfred Lane, I don't intend to let you off so 
 easily. You often correct me for little wee faults 
 (and by the way you have no business to see any 
 in me, at all), and you allow yourself the most un- 
 limited amount of the worst sin a man, woman, or 
 
A Reed Shaken zvith the Wind. 65 
 
 child can indulge in — PRIDE. Because I am 
 obliged to confess to you that I am very miserable 
 without you, and don't continually brandish over 
 you the fear of losing me, you take up a tone 
 which I think most unbecoming. However, I 
 will soon do something to bring you on your knees 
 again — the right position for both of us. I am 
 glad you say you shall ' not allude to this again ; ' 
 I make you a profound curtsey, sir, and beg you 
 to waste no more time in writing ridiculous letters. 
 I suppose you wrote the last because you had 
 nothing else to do, or wanted to cultivate a new 
 style ! Anyhow, you only wrote it because you 
 knew your self-denial would be received with ap- 
 propriate indignation and scorn. But, as you are 
 always quoting Sir Peter Teazle's naughty ex- 
 pression about sentiment, I shall leave this subject 
 and tell you of our journey. 
 
 " We had an awful passage. It was quite calm 
 when we started ; but the wind rose very soon, 
 and we tossed about fearfully, and tow^ards morn- 
 ing had to put back into the harbor of Toulon, 
 where we remained a day and a night. Most of 
 the passengers were very ill. I stayed on deck, 
 watching such a beautiful moonlight on the water, 
 and the mountains, which are all round the harbor, 
 reminding one of Gibraltar— quite a land-locked' 
 harbor, and full of French men-of-war. One of 
 them sent up rockets and burnt blue lights, appar 
 ently for my edification. 
 
66 A Reed SJiakeii with the Wind. 
 
 *' How you would have enjoyed seeing the rlp- 
 pVing water Ht up by the moon and the Hghts from 
 the ships. Such a pretty color it is, a tender deep 
 blue, always shifting into golden ripples, and then 
 the dark hills with a bright line of lights and their 
 reflections — some creeping up the sides and strug- 
 gling quite high up the hills, and, beyond all this, 
 the gray mountains rising against the clear bright 
 sky. 
 
 ** I looked, too, at the pretty setting of the stars 
 — you gave me that idea — but then what a differ- 
 ent sky they are set in here ! 
 
 " The worst part of our passage was between 
 Toulon and Villafranca. We spent a miserable 
 day — trying to run along the coast, then attempt- 
 ing the open sea, tossing and dancing about, 
 making no v/ay at all. But at last it came to an 
 end, and here we are in Rome. 
 
 " This is siu'h a place ! The climate is deli- 
 cious, and everything one sees surpasses one's 
 expectations. Not exactly that anything we have 
 seen is beautiful, but everything is so interesting 
 and picturesque, and has a character of its own, 
 and a completeness of association which makes one 
 enjoy it much more than simply beautiful build- 
 ings. Not that I feel inclined to enjoy anything ; 
 when I think of you in that grimy, foggy, old 
 London, I feel as if I were cut in two, and that 
 the best half of me were there, not here. 
 
 ** The charm of this place I cannot describe, 
 
A Reed Shaken with the WiJtd. 6^ 
 
 but you of all people would appreciate it. We 
 have a lovely garden to this hotel, which we can 
 get to by a terrace leading from a passage outside 
 our rooms. It is full of fountains and flowers, 
 lovely shrubs, and terraces, where you could 
 smoke and enjoy yourself in the sun by day, and 
 in the moon by night, and I could come down to 
 my own strong Wil, when I felt I needed to be 
 calmed and soothed. 
 
 " I don't lead my own life a bit with the others; 
 of course it is no fault of theirs, but one's own 
 weakness. So it is. I am pulled along with the 
 stream, theoretically wishing to go one way, but 
 practically having all one's time, mind, and nerves 
 used up in the family life. 
 
 " Charlotte is just singing Schubert's 'Parting 
 of Hector from his Wife.' I daresay you don't 
 know it, but you ought to. It is, perhaps, a 
 slightly classical parting, but it is a good down- 
 right sort of one, strong, hopeful, and wildly in- 
 toxicated with love. 
 
 '' Wilfred ! if you were ever sure of anything in 
 this world, you may be sure of the good effect of 
 your love upon me. When I think of what you 
 have saved me from, I can't help thanking God 
 for it. You have done what no saint, or angel, 
 or anything less human, could have effected, and 
 given reality and form to what were only vague, 
 occasional sentiments — dreamy, unreal sort of im- 
 pulses. 
 
68 A Reed Shaken with the Wijid. 
 
 "I go on with my readings of the two Brown- 
 ings and Ruskin. I think Ruskin is very like the 
 Bible — the Bible made comprehensible, just what 
 is divine taken out, but much of the beauty and 
 purity left in. 
 
 " Yesterday I saw a perfect picture — Raphael's 
 Fiddler. Such a face, Wil, rather the type of his 
 own, but not so fair, and instead of the dreamy, 
 loving expression of the Louvre portrait, a perfect 
 load of Art — sensitive, passionate Art — the whole 
 countenance sad, not wholly beautiful — as no 
 artist's face ought ever to be made. To do and to 
 be are quite incompatible, don't you think so ? I 
 think, somehow, artists ought not to be beautiful, 
 or their personal influence detracts from the in- 
 fluence of their Art, for after all there is nothing 
 like people, and it is not fair to oppose them to 
 any Art whatever. But Raphael's Fiddler is so 
 steeped in his Art, that one hardly thinks whether 
 it is a man, a boy, or a woman. He has no 
 individuality but his Art. I have been thinking 
 of him ever since, and can't get him out of my 
 head, with his dark face, and matted hair, cut 
 straight along the forehead, surmounted by a little 
 black cap. The fur tippet he wears is something 
 quite beyond admiration — a most delightful mixt- 
 ure of yellow, brown, and gray — over a sad green 
 dress, and the fiddle itself a red brown. Some 
 dark blue flowers with rich green leaves are in his 
 hand, and all besides is well kept in the shade. I 
 
A Reed Shaken iviik iJie Wind. 69 
 
 have gone quite wild over this picture, and can 
 think of nothing else. 
 
 '* I send you a few of what we agreed together 
 were favorite flowers of ours — do you remember ? 
 I got them in the Ludovici Gardens. Such a view 
 we had from the top of the villa ! 
 
 ** A stormy day, raining a little — and all the 
 ilexes and cypresses ink-black in the foreground, 
 and, beyond, a burning sheet of gold on the Cam- 
 pagna, and the piles of mountains all mixed up in 
 the clouds ; some bright peaks of snow with bronze 
 light, the stormy, violent light that gives snow 
 such a wonderful color, reminding one at the same 
 time of metal and of the softest, mellowest swan's 
 plumage. Then, the next mountain the fullest 
 lapis blue, and far off in the sunshine Soracte piled 
 up all alone, quite light cobalt in a sky of the fair- 
 est blue (like an old Francia's sky), as if it knew 
 nothing whatever about what was going on in the 
 dismal parts of the heavens. The only thing that 
 was not ink-black in the foreground was the Tiber, 
 and Heaven only knows where it got its flaming 
 brightness as it twisted under the black clouds on 
 
 o 
 
 its winding way. Yes, Rome is a wonderful place 
 when you see all that (and a thousand things be- 
 sides) up at the top of a tower, and at the bottom 
 such statues as the Mars in repose, the Juno's 
 head, and several others which are beyond de- 
 scription beautiful. 
 
 ** One of the best pictures I have seen was at a 
 
70 A Reed Shaken with the Wind. 
 
 concert the other night. A quartett of Mozart, 
 played by Madlle. JuHe, two violins, and a violon- 
 cello. Madlle. Julie's face — as I saw its profile — 
 all full of earnest quiet music, with the load in the 
 eyebrows which in musicians seems to me to ex- 
 press all the pain of Art — the spirit much too 
 strong for utterance, a bewilderment of the brain 
 in the higher regions — a quiet, sensitive mouth, a 
 yellow skin, the same all over (no artist ever had 
 a good complexion, I'm sure) and black unnotice- 
 able hair. If you have ever seen Rubenstein you 
 will understand what I mean by the load in the 
 eyebrows. Then came the violins and violon- 
 cellos, and interesting clever musician-faces play- 
 ing them, half hid by the pretty curves of their 
 instruments and the stands for their music, all 
 their black coats, and Madlle. Julie's simple black 
 dress without a white collar even, all more than 
 half hid, but coming so well and seriously against 
 the wall behind. The wall of the theatre is 
 painted with a full, soft drapery, with little gold 
 touchings here and there — all much hurt by time, 
 and therefore the better for the picture. It was 
 altogether perfect, as the colors of the instruments 
 — yellow, red, and brown mingled — and the sallow 
 faces of the players looked perfectly delightful 
 against the subdued green background. But of 
 course the music in the faces (particularly in 
 Madlle. Julie's) made the picture. It reminded 
 me so of George Sand's ' Consuelo,' which is full 
 
A Reed Shaken with the Wind. 71 
 
 of artistic scenes ; Haydn and Co.'s little musical 
 meetings in the old musical atmosphere of the old 
 times — all old — nothing of the nineteenth century 
 about them. 
 
 ** But now I have well dosed you with my pros- 
 ings, I shall only add that what Rome would be to 
 me under favorable circumstances I cannot im- 
 agine. You see if I am only to write occasionally 
 I mean to send you letters you cannot read all in a 
 minute, but which will compel you to think for at 
 least one half hour after you receive them of the 
 unfortunate 
 
 ** little exile, 
 
 **TlNY Harewood." 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 ** And this woman says, * My days were sunless, and my nights were 
 
 moonless, 
 Parched the pleasant April herbage, and the lark's heart outbreak 
 
 tuneless, 
 If you loved me not ! ' And I who (ah, for words of flame !) adore 
 
 her! 
 Who am mad to lay my spirit prostrate palpably before her — " 
 
 Robert Browning. 
 
 Wilfred was delighted with this letter ; not 
 only for its freshness and keenness of appreciation, 
 but for the loving steadfastness it expressed for 
 him. He declared to himself that Tiny was like 
 a pemmican, or jelly, or anything which contains 
 a lot of strength, but is little in size ; and it seemed 
 to him that the good qualities of six or eight or- 
 dinary good women were boiled down to make her 
 what she was, and that was why she was not bigger ! 
 
 Had the letter been answered that day, Wilfred 
 felt he must have given vent to all the loving feel- 
 ings of his heart, and therefore he put it in his 
 pocket and resolved on allowing a week to pass 
 before he trusted himself to write to " his little 
 sunshine," as he often called Tiny. But he only 
 found each day made him more hungry, and it 
 
A Reed Shaken with the Wind. Ji 
 
 sometimes seemed impossible to repress his pas- 
 sionate love. Nothing but the conviction that 
 this complete sacrifice best proved his true affec- 
 tion, enabled him to resist the desire of telling her 
 how entirely his life was bound up in hers. Some- 
 times the craving was so strong that he was forced 
 to yield, but the letters written in these moments 
 were never posted. 
 
 This was the answer sent to Tiny. 
 
 ''My Dear Little Sprite: 
 
 '* If I am afraid of your mother, I am not going 
 to be terrified by you, and shall therefore continue 
 to give you cause to scold me to your heart's con- 
 tent — for the present — waiting, however, a fitting 
 opportunity to punish you for your evil deeds. If 
 that day ever comes you will cry aloud and in vain 
 for mercy. 
 
 " Instead of all these reproaches your letters 
 ought to be written in a strain of continual thanks- 
 giving for the pleasures I have been benevolent 
 enough to procure you this winter. 
 
 ** Think of the lovely climate with which you 
 are enraptured, and then fancy my mistaking a 
 lamp-post for a man on my way to the office this 
 morning — a wrong conclusion, which brought 
 speedy retribution in the shape of a sudden collis- 
 ion of a remarkably severe nature. 
 
 " See what a wise old cousin you have ; wise as 
 
 well as benevolent ! 
 4 
 
74 A Reed Shaken with the IVinei. 
 
 '' I knew Rome would enchant and fill you with 
 happy, beautiful thoughts ; but I hardly ever ex- 
 pected you would enable me to share them so 
 completely by sending such gloriously vivid de- 
 scriptions of all you see and hear. I feel as if I 
 had seen Raphael's Fiddler now, but I don't quite 
 see that * to be and to do are incompatible,' even in 
 relation to outward beauty and artistic work, and 
 I am sure, my dear little coz, it isn't so with regard 
 to other things, inasmuch as the being must come 
 before the doing. Eh ? 
 
 " But you must be content with shabby an- 
 swers ; for / have nothing beautiful to write about. 
 I can only tell you of the books I am reading, one 
 of which you would enjoy immensely. A certain 
 Dr. Carl Vogt, who has written on ' Man and his 
 Place in Creation,' believes that, as animals have 
 brains, they have intellects ; and his book abounds 
 in stories of religious dogs, just cats, bears and 
 apes, with notions of dignity and decorum. In 
 the way of novels, I have been skimming * Emily 
 Chester,' which works out the theory that God 
 gives to every creature the exact discipline which 
 best tends to promote its final development. 
 With those to whom happiness is the one possible 
 means of expansion — their characters requiring 
 moral sunshine, just as some flowers need the 
 physical — it almost seems as if * an angel had 
 charge concerning them, lest they dashed their 
 foot against a stone ; ' while to others, pain and 
 
A Reed Shaken zvith the Wind. 75 
 
 suffering seem to be their positive nutriment — fire 
 their native element. 
 
 ** How glad I am you are going on with your 
 readings from Ruskin and the Brownings. To me 
 there is an intense life in ' Aurora Leigh ; ' it is 
 certainly a great poem, notwithstanding a want of 
 finish which suggests masculine rudeness of power, 
 rather than feminine delicacy of touch. 
 
 " I saw a very good thing in a criticism on 
 Robert Browning the other day. The writer, in 
 speaking of his obscurity, says, by way of exam- 
 ple, that one of his poems contains only two in- 
 telligible lines, and that these two are not true. 
 The first line is 
 
 ' Who will, may hear Sordello's story told.' 
 
 with which the poem commences, and the other is 
 the one with which it concludes, 
 
 ' Who would, has heard Sordello's story told,' 
 
 I believe this is the poem of which Browning's 
 father exclaimed, * I spent the whole morning over 
 it, but I could only make out that there was a 
 woman in it.' 
 
 ** And now I must leave off writing, but I shall 
 not leave off longing for your next letter until I 
 have received it. Give my love to Charlotte and > 
 Madeline, and an appropriate message to your 
 mother. 
 
 ''Ever yours, "W. L." 
 
CHAPTER XI. 
 
 "Majesty, 
 Power, glory, strength, and beauty, all are aisled 
 In this eternal ark of worship undefiled." 
 
 Lord Byron. 
 
 Wilfred had not very long to wait, although it 
 appeared long enough to him, before his eyes 
 were gladdened by the sight which had now be- 
 come so precious to him, of a yellow envelope, 
 bearing the Roman postmark. 
 
 Breaking the seal, he read : 
 
 "You cruel Wilfred, to mount such a pedestal 
 when I have become dependent upon your kind 
 words. I feel every thought of the future so 
 bound up in your strengthening love that I long 
 for its expression even on a miserable sheet of 
 paper. And you must give it, for I am so lonely, 
 and should feel quite another person if I could 
 only have a hopeful loving letter from you. Oh, 
 Wil, it is such an age since that horrid steamer 
 took me away from the figure on the Folkestone 
 pier. One's cheerfulness is beginning to be a 
 melancholy failure, such a skull-like grin ! I had 
 
A Reed Shaken with the Wi7iel. 77 
 
 a great fright too, yesterday. I looked down at 
 my arm and saw I had lost your dear locket off 
 my bracelet. Fancy my concern ! I hunted 
 everywhere, and so did every one else, till at last 
 I went to bed in despair, hardly able to sleep for 
 the thought of it. In the morning Smith brought 
 it in, saying she had found it in the passage the 
 night before. 
 
 *'The other day two of the Leighs called and 
 asked us to go with them to see the fox hounds 
 meet, so I went with Madeline. It was a splendid 
 morning, and we had such a pretty drive, the 
 views of the mountains with their tops all covered 
 with snow, and quite pink in the morning light, 
 were lovely. Lady Emily Cavendish was first 
 and foremost, with red hair, red tie, gold spangled 
 net, bright blue habit, and on a gray horse. She 
 looks well on horseback, however, rides capitally, 
 and won the fox's brush on Monday. One of the 
 best riders and most constant lady hunters in 
 Rome is the bright vivacious Harriet Hosmer, 
 the famous American sculptress. 
 
 *' And now I must tell you about our Christmas 
 Eve. 
 
 " We went with the Somervilles and Dunmores, 
 in three carriages, through the deserted streets ; 
 there are only patrols in two streets in Rome, the. 
 rest, they say, are infested by brigands, who at- 
 tack you at every possible turn. We crossed the 
 St. Angelo bridge, with Its great renaissance stat- 
 
78 A Reed Shaken with the Wind. 
 
 ues by Bernini, black and rugged outlines against 
 the clear, star-lit, bright sky, up to the marvellous 
 piazza before St. Peter's. The beautiful colonnade 
 which encircles with its arms the immense space 
 of the piazza, the gentle noise made by the falling 
 fountains, a clear sound, only to be heard when 
 everything else is still — seemed so mysterious in 
 the strange starlight ! 
 
 **When we got out of the carriage, we had to 
 mount the Bernini staircase, with hundreds of 
 steps, flanked by immense pillars. You cannot 
 imagine what a wonderful, weird-looking place it 
 seemed in that light, with groups of tall men — the 
 Swiss guard — in dresses which rejoiced my heart, 
 invented and designed by Michael Angelo. At 
 the bottom of the court were the Papal Guards, 
 with flaming cloaks and splendid helmets, also men 
 mounted on very fine horses. 
 
 " At the top of the staircase we entered a room 
 with frescos on the walls and ceilings. 
 
 '' You put aside the huge curtain hung over the 
 entrance door, to get into the Sistine Chapel, which 
 is simple but gorgeous, if you can imagine the 
 combination. 
 
 ** The wonderful roof, by Michael Angelo, and 
 his fresco of the Last Judgment, which covers the 
 end of the chapel (except where the barbarians cut 
 out a piece for the high altar), half gleams through 
 the blaze of light, not so as to be enjoyed as a 
 picture, but seeming, in a way, to say it was too 
 
A Reed Shaken ivitJi the Wind. 79 
 
 grand, and well worth being looked at, to be seen 
 through the medium of wax candles. 
 
 " The only way to know anything of these fres- 
 cos is to do as I did the next day. I extended 
 myself at full length on one of the cushioned seats, 
 and, with a powerful opera-glass, enjoyed them at 
 my leisure. I could not leave them for hours, and 
 the consequence is my eyes have ached ever since. 
 
 ''The screen which divides the chapel is very 
 open, and through it no woman is allowed to pass. 
 Beyond was a perfect blaze of the gold and lace 
 dresses of the different grades of priests, but the 
 chapel has no other ornament than its painted walls 
 and roofs, and massive gold candlesticks. 
 
 *' I should like to have looked at the whole scene 
 from above, for we must have improved it contrary 
 to the custom of most masses of ladies ; we were 
 all obliged to be dressed in black, with long veils 
 instead of bonnets. It is astonishing how well this 
 mass of black figures (divided from the gentlemen) 
 looked against all the gorgeousness of the chapel 
 and the splendid dresses of the Guards. 
 
 " And then the music 1 Such curious sounds ; 
 they seemed, somehow, to come straight from the 
 Middle Ages. 
 
 *' Only vocal music is allowed in the presence of 
 the ' Holy Father,' so you hear nothing but these 
 unusually lovely voices singing difficult and quaint 
 compositions in a marvellous way, as true as if 
 each note were a musical instrument. 
 
8o A Reed Shaken with the Wutd. 
 
 **We stayed some time, and then went down 
 the ghostly staircase, with the beautifully dressed 
 men on it, and drove away through the narrow 
 streets to the front o{ a small cafe, out of which 
 they brought us cups of chocolate. 
 
 " Then we went on to St. Luigi Francese, which 
 much disappointed us — a regular ball-room illum- 
 ination on the high altar — the most monotonous 
 vespers with organ obligatos, and a tremendous 
 crowd of English sight-seers. It gave me a curi- 
 ous and melancholy feeling of pity for the dull lives 
 of these poor priests, who don't believe half the 
 absurd stories with which they delude the Roman 
 peasantry. 
 
 '' I must tell you, too, about the wonderful ex- 
 hibition of the famous Bambino, a little Vv^ooden 
 figure, supposed to be blessed with the power of 
 curing any illness — in fact, to be Christ as a baby. 
 This Bambino is a very great personage, and when 
 the Republic was going on they gave it the Pope's 
 grand carriage to go about in and do its miracles 
 with, but when the Pope came back they took 
 away the grand carriage and gave it an ugly old 
 worn-out one instead. We went to see the Bam- 
 bino at the Ara Cseli. It is put into the middle of 
 a scene like a theatre scene, with the Virgin ador- 
 ing ; a landscape, and in the distance the Magi ar- 
 riving on horseback, a heavenly host above in the 
 clouds — all lighted up very prettily, and all ador- 
 ing the l^ambino. Opposite this little arrange- 
 
A Reed Shaken with the Wnid. 8i 
 
 ment is a raised platform, where small children 
 stand, and argue points of religion and declaim lit- 
 tle set speeches. It was the most absurd spectacle 
 I ever saw ; they act and they spout the most 
 high-flown spread-eagle sentences, and gesticulate 
 to any extent. This, however, was their kind of 
 argument : 
 
 '* ' Why was not the Bambino born in the Vati- 
 can, as it is such a beautiful place ? ' 
 
 *' ' He might if he liked,' said the other. 
 
 *' 'Well, why didn't he?' 
 
 *' ' Because he was born in a manger to teach 
 us the beautiful virtue of humility.' 
 
 '' They don't mention the little fact of the Vati- 
 can not having been built at that time. 
 
 " Some of the figures are made as large as life, 
 and the Christ is said to be cut out of wood from 
 Mount Lebanon. Mr. Howard was in the church 
 when they were arranging the scene, and one man, 
 I suppose a monk, with an eye for arranging tab- 
 leaux, stood a little way off, saying, ' move that 
 goat' — ' put that goat's tail further that way,' etc. 
 
 " Our party to see the Vatican by torchlight 
 was a very successful one ; it was a private illumi- 
 nation got up by Mr. Howard and ourselves. We 
 walked about, a ghostly mass, with our torch- 
 bearers in front of us, for two hours among all the 
 wonderful galleries — full of wonders, of which we 
 could only see one or two in each. It was the 
 most beautiful thing I have ever seen in my life. 
 4* 
 
82 A Reed Shake ft with the Wind. 
 
 " The Apollo (except the horrid, modern hands 
 they have stuck on his beautiful arms) is quite 
 enough to take your breath away ; all the Venuses 
 in the world sink into insignificance by comparison 
 with him, and my respect for men has most 
 strangely risen since I have seen what they might 
 be, if they were only more like the Apollo. But 
 it would take ten letters of ecstatic rapture to give 
 you an idea of all we saw that night in the Vatican. 
 
 *' When Ave came back your little possession 
 drank four cups of tea, and over-ate herself with 
 cake and bread and butter. I should like to re- 
 turn home to you as plump as a little pigeon, and 
 with life enough in me to scatter into another 
 world all your horrid detes noires respecting my 
 want of strength of mind, or body, for a life with a 
 limited income. 
 
 "Mr. Sedley is in Rome; do you remember 
 taking me to his studio in London ? 
 
 '* I like so to meet people I first saw with you. 
 
 ." Oh, darling Wil, what a glorious life we shall 
 have together in the future ! It seems too good 
 to look forward to, lest it never should be realized. 
 We are enough and sufficient for ourselves, are we 
 not, Wil, and not the faintest breath of harm can 
 touch us from any one but each other. As for 
 society and the world — I should like you to see 
 the inside of my heart for once, and you would see 
 how callous and indifferent I am, and how I laugh 
 at the world. 
 
A Reed Shaken with the Wind. 83 
 
 "And now, my own Wil, what wishes can I 
 offer you for the New Year ? Only that we may 
 be allowed to end it together in the enjoyment of 
 the peace and great happiness we can make for 
 each other. I hated so to think of you alone on 
 Christmas Day, and I wondered if you were think- 
 ing as I was of sweet days to come. 
 
 ** Ever your loving 
 
 *'TlNY." 
 
CHAPTER XII. 
 
 " Limit your wants : the Must is hard, and yet solely by this 
 Must can we show how it is with us in our inner man. To live ac- 
 cording to caprice requires no peculiar powers." 
 
 Goethe, 
 
 After reading this letter it was natural for 
 Wilfred Lane to believe that Tiny's heart was all 
 his own, and that any sacrifice she would have to 
 make as his wife would be fully recompensed by 
 his devoted affection and their perfect spiritual and 
 intellectual union. Rank and wealth without this 
 would be destitute of all that seemed as necessary 
 to her as the very air she breathed. Such a posi- 
 tion would be worse than absolute poverty. 
 
 A small house and the difficulty of "keeping 
 down the weekly bills " might, and probably often 
 would, prove distasteful to Tiny ; but a marriage 
 which was incomplete and insufficient would be 
 little less than dangerous to a girl of her tempera- 
 ment. Combined with the many good points in 
 Tiny's nature there were evil tendencies of no 
 common strength, and, under such circumstances, 
 these would most assuredly assert themselves. 
 
 The thought that, by present rigid economy, 
 
A Reed Shaken with the Wind. 85 
 
 some of Tiny's difficulties in their future home 
 might be diminished, afforded precisely the stimu- 
 lus Wilfred Lane's own character required. 
 
 He was not an idle man, and whilst he keenly 
 appreciated physical ease and all the outward re- 
 . finements of life, he was very far removed from 
 being a mere pleasure-seeker. 
 
 His indifference to money amounted almost to a 
 positive fault, and his carelessness as to his expen- 
 diture had on one occasion placed him in a posi- 
 tion which he did not scruple to condemn as dis- 
 honest as well as dishonorable. It was true that 
 he had not wilfully lived beyond his income like 
 many men, who, for the sake of luxuries they can- 
 not afford, draw bills they know they can never 
 meet, content when the day of reckoning comes to 
 fall back upon ''the governor," or to diminish 
 without remorse the slender resources of some in- 
 dulgent mother, who has to deny herself absolute 
 necessaries in order to pay for extravagance, if not 
 vice. 
 
 This Wilfred would have scorned to do. 
 
 His humiliation was almost excessive when 
 he found what his easy way of taking things had 
 entailed, and it quite aroused him from indolent 
 but refined enjoyment. 
 
 Hitherto his intellectual life had been more 
 dreamy than practical ; now he determined to 
 turn it to better account. It would, however, 
 have taken him some time to extricate himself 
 
86 A Reed Shaken with the Wind. 
 
 from a state he regarded with nothing less than 
 abhorrence, but for an unexpected legacy from 
 an old lady to whom his father had rendered 
 an important service. This enabled him to pay 
 off everything without telling his family of his 
 difficulties ; though Lady Harewood often won- 
 dered what Wilfred had done with the money, 
 and remarked that he seemed more careful after 
 he had received the thousand pounds than he 
 was before, and never resumed his stall at the 
 Opera, which up to that season he had seldom 
 been without. 
 
 All this happened nearly three years before 
 Wilfred fell in love with Tiny ; and though he had 
 somewhat relaxed his literary efforts, he had 
 kept up his reputation as the hardest working 
 man in the War Office. 
 
 On his return from Folkestone he had resolved 
 on a winter of real work, during which he would 
 spend as little and earn as much as he possibly 
 could. So he hunted up the editors who had 
 previously employed him ; and being more than 
 usually fortunate, soon found himself in the full 
 swing of work. 
 
 He began to feel a very miser ; and when he 
 placed out the money he earned in profitable spec- 
 ulations, he thought of that wonderful story of 
 Silas Marner counting up his heaps of gold ; and 
 felt strangely moved at the remembrance of the 
 old man's despair at losing his money-bags, 
 
A Reed Shaken with the Wind. ^j 
 
 and his tender, pathetic love for the golden-haired 
 child who strayed into his cottage and reminded 
 him of his lost guineas. 
 
 Wilfred said nothing to Tiny about his extra 
 work, and although this incessant occupation 
 certainly helped him to adhere to his plan of 
 writing short letters to Rome, he never put it 
 forward as a reason. He knew very well that he 
 would have written often enough, but for feeling 
 that his restraint better enabled him to keep to 
 the spirit of his sacrifice, and also gave Tiny a 
 fairer opportunity of testing her attachment, 
 than if he fanned the flame already kindled by the 
 constant expressions of his love. Accordingly 
 nearly a fortnight passed before he allowed him- 
 self to answer Tiny's last epistle ; and the very 
 day on which he meant to write, he received while 
 at breakfast another Roman letter, and during 
 the morning an intimation from Sir Thomas 
 Slade, which would have been a sufficient excuse 
 for writing to Tiny, even if he had posted one the 
 night before. 
 
 But we must follow these two events as they 
 happened to Mr. Lane. 
 
CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 '* Life is good ; but not life in itself. So is youth, so is beauty. 
 
 Mere stuff, 
 " Are all these for Love's usance? To live it is well ; but it is 
 
 not enough. 
 " Well too, to be fair, to be young ; but what good is in beauty 
 
 and youth, 
 " If the lovely and young are no surer than they that are neither, 
 
 forsooth, 
 "Young nor lovely, of being beloved? O my love, if thou 
 
 lovest not me, 
 '* Shall I love my own life ? " 
 
 The Apple of Life. 
 
 *• Thy soul hath snatched up mine, all faint and weak. 
 And placed it by thee on a golden throne." 
 
 Sonnets from the Portuguese. 
 
 " My own Wil, 
 
 " I am getting so impatient of this ' eternal 
 city ' in spite of all its beauties, that unless you 
 will let me write to you nearly every day, I am 
 sure I shall soon be very ill. I am quite worn out 
 by this continual struggle with the * interfering 
 atmosphere ' wc talked about. Not that I am 
 weaker in practice or in feeling ; but it is so wear- 
 ing to force one's self back into one's self, when 
 there are so many influences pulling other ways. 
 
A Reed SJiakeit with the Wind. 89 
 
 " I daresay you will tell me that it is good for 
 me, and ought to teach me what no one can 
 teach another — how to lead my own life. If I am 
 so weak as to succumb to surrounding influences, 
 there can be no real good in me ; and I often 
 think of what you used to say of the amiable 
 weakness which lets people pull you into hourly 
 diversions, and puts an effectual barrier between 
 you and any steady kind of life. 
 
 " I feel the want of some hours every day 
 entirely to myself — it seems so necessary and yet 
 so impossible here. It is no joke, this begin- 
 ning to alter at my time of life ; you may laugh, 
 sir, but it is true. All these years in a frivol- 
 ous worldly atmosphere make a change for the 
 better no quick or easy process. 
 
 " Darling Wil, I don't know what benumbing 
 influence has come over me, but I can enjoy noth- 
 ing, and can hardly take an interest in anything. 
 
 " ' An 'orrible tale ' best expresses my condi- 
 tion, ' hypercondriacal, very,' — * the flesh warring 
 against the spirit,' is not a bad quotative descrip- 
 tion, although not taken from the same original. 
 If I am profane I can't help it. I shall soon be 
 bilious enough to be absolved from all moral re- 
 sponsibility. 
 
 " It is not sunrise, but the cocks are crowing so-. 
 I love the dicky birds in the garden here, better 
 tlian anything else in Rome, and the great watch- 
 dog that Y/ags its tail at me. But the best wag- 
 
90 A Reed Shakeji with the Wind. 
 
 ging comes, however, by the post, though your 
 letters are so cold that they make me — savagely 
 longing— especially when I think that we might 
 have avoided this separation altogether. 
 
 " Still, I do think it will be all for the best, if I 
 only use it rightly. Surely no such pain was ever 
 sent for nothing ! And it would be utterly un- 
 fortunate, if, instead of letting it work its own 
 good ends, I grew hard and miserable, thinking of 
 the density and hardness of others. So don't be- 
 lieve that when I mn good I blame you for send- 
 ing me to Rome. 
 
 ''Remember my crack about acquiring experi- 
 ence. I feel such a satisfaction when the pain of 
 anything turns to an acquired piece of experience 
 — a greater knowledge of human nature ; it more 
 than recompenses me for all the suffering. Per- 
 haps I am less sensitive than others, or more 
 sanguine ; but I have no regrets. If I were a 
 painter, I would use up my feelings in my pictures 
 — so much pain to so much canvas ! 
 
 " It sometimes comes upon me with a rush of 
 intense feeling, that I have really got you in the 
 world. The being with you is not all. There is 
 something in the possession of such a love, and 
 such a hold in life, however distant ! One is apt 
 to forget the sweetness of this in the wish for the 
 entire satisfaction of being with you ; and when 
 some sign of affection in others, or any little thing 
 of that sort, recalls that I, too, have a true heart 
 
A Reed Shaken with the Wind. 91 
 
 to depend and lean on — how I wish the feehng 
 would stop there, but it never does — directly after 
 comes the yearning and longing, with the dismal 
 dread lest any misfortunes should prevent these 
 longings from being eventually fulfilled. 
 
 "■ I think of all kinds of dreadful things, and I 
 fear them all. 
 
 " Yesterday we drove to St. Paolo, about three 
 miles from here, all through the city, out through 
 the furthest gate into the country. Such a strange 
 drive, through filthy places no one can imagine 
 who has not been to Rome. The narrow streets 
 crowded with peasants, who come in for the festa 
 — very picturesque, but very dirty ; consistent, 
 very, with the streets, where, at every turn, 
 through the comical squalid shops and houses, 
 peep out exquisite pieces of old wall, an old gate- 
 way, or an old bridge across an -alley. 
 
 '* There is a perfect piece of building left of the 
 theatre of Marcellus, the arch below being filled 
 with cheeses, and bunches of carrots hanging 
 down under the beautiful sculptured stone-work of 
 the ruin. 
 
 *-' The Church of St. Paolo is the most perfect 
 thing in or about Rome. It is hardly yet com- 
 pleted, after about fifty years' hard labor. All 
 the Catholic monarchs in Europe have sent 
 enormous sums and presents for it. Such pillars I 
 never saw in my life. Nothing but one mass of 
 
92 A Reed Shaken with the Wind. 
 
 marble — floor, pillars, and ornaments — very sim- 
 ple, but baffling all description. 
 
 " Imagine yourself in the highest building you 
 ever saw, with vistas of beautiful marble pillars 
 going off into perspective till they appear quite 
 tiny, being really so high and massive that human 
 figures look like insects by them, and all this re- 
 flected in the beautiful expanse of marble floor. 
 Such marble, too ! Algerian marble pillars — then 
 porphyry pillars — malachite in quantities, given by 
 the Emperor of Russia — and lapis lazuli in such 
 immense slabs that one can hardly keep up one's 
 respect for it ; but the balustrades of white Car- 
 rara marble took my fancy most, with slabs of 
 beautiful dark-grained porphyry introduced be- 
 tween. 
 
 "■ But all this on paper will not give you the 
 faintest idea of the simple huge magnificence of the 
 place, which outside is the most hideous granary- 
 looking building you can conceive. 
 
 *' To-day we have been to see an antique statue 
 in gilded bronze, just discovered under a palace. 
 The man who found it, and to whom it belonged, 
 thought he would send it to England and exhibit 
 it at a guinea a head. He was dissuaded from 
 this, and told that English people do not care for 
 such things, though they make a great fuss about 
 them when they come out here. He then offered 
 it to the Pope, who said he would much like to 
 have it for the Vatican, but had not a penny he 
 
A Reed Shaken with the Wind. 93 
 
 could call his own to pay for it. So the man 
 magnanimously gave it to the Vatican ; and the 
 Pope made him a marquis, and has given him the 
 monopoly of fish or salt for two years, and taken 
 all the mortgages off his property. Don't they do 
 things absurdly here ? 
 
 " And to see the statue ! It is twelve or four- 
 teen feet high, in bronze, covered with gold which 
 is quite bright. It is a Hercules, and very hand- 
 some ; but they have not raised him upon his 
 stumps yet (he has not got any feet, at least not 
 on — one is in a corner of the room and the other 
 is in his lion's skin), so he is left lying flat on his 
 back. But the room they have put him in is pos- 
 itively ridiculous. It is all decked out in pink 
 tarlatan, edged with gold tinsel, red cotton velvet 
 — with stars over the walls, and the whole is dec- 
 orated with the shabbiest of theatre tinsel. I 
 should like you to see the chaste taste of these 
 modern Romans : such an appropriate room for 
 an antique, and all made on purpose ! 
 
 • • • • t ■ • 
 
 ** Thursday. 
 "■ We have just had a delicious walk in the 
 Borghese Gardens. This place is a combination 
 of everything that is most delightful in the world. 
 Old statues, lovely fountains, ilex groves, and dis- ' 
 tant hills. These beautiful things \vould gladden 
 your eyes and soul ; and I think that of all the 
 delights with which Rome is filled, the Borghese 
 
94 A Reed Shaken with the Wind. 
 
 Gardens have hitherto enchanted me the most. 
 But in everything one sees there is one great dis- 
 satisfaction — such a feeHng of what they would all 
 be, if one could only live in and with them — an 
 appreciation of what they would be tlieri, much 
 more than the actual pleasure they give one iiozv. 
 Of course this doesn't affect the pictures or 
 statues so much as the buildings, ruins, and coun- 
 try. I hate all incomplete experience — it leaves 
 me with such a savage craving ! 
 
 " I should like to end our days together in 
 Rome, when you have done grinding at that mis- 
 erable old War Office ; and, indeed, I often think 
 you might do many things better for you even 
 now. My money would go a long way in Rome, 
 if we lived quietly, and you might be made 
 Special Correspondent to The Times, and all sorts 
 of things. I am sure this lovely place would fill 
 you with such fresh and beautiful thoughts .that 
 you would write about them, and gladden the 
 hearts of those poor souls in dreary, foggy Eng- 
 land. 
 
 ** The very sense of living out here is delicious, 
 and I am sure you would be a different person if I 
 could only get you aw!iy from the damp climate 
 and keen winds at home. Yet, to some people, 
 Rome is very trying ; last week we had a good 
 deal of rain, with a sirocco wind, and the warm, 
 dry atmosphere the sirocco brings with it. As a 
 rule, however, they say the winter here is bright, 
 
A Reed Shaken ivith the Wind. 95 
 
 clear, and coldish. Certainly, whenever we have 
 the good fortune to get rid of the sirocco, the 
 weather is perfect, and the air is so fresh and crisp 
 that it acts like a tonic. 
 
 ** And now I must tell you about our presenta- 
 tion to the Santa Padre, by whom we were 
 blessed. He is a charming old man, such an in- 
 ducement to turn Catholic ! We all went dressed 
 in black, with black lace over our heads. We sat 
 with some ladies in a long sort of gallery ; then 
 the Pope came round and spoke to us all, and we 
 knelt down and kissed his hand. He gave us a 
 little address, while we continued kneeling ; told 
 us how much he desired our welfare, and that of 
 our families and friends, and how earnestly he 
 hoped we would attend to the affairs of our souls. 
 Then he blessed us, and a number of rosaries and 
 other things people had brought, after which he 
 toddled away. His manner was too sweet ! 
 
 '* The Howards came back with us, and Mr. 
 Howard told us such a capital story about Captain 
 . Queen Victoria honored him with an in- 
 vitation to Osborne Castle on his return to Eng- 
 land after his search for Sir John Franklin in Polar 
 regions, and he told Lady Franklin afterwards that 
 he sat by the Princess Royal, and thought her 
 very odd, for she laughed at nearly every sentence' 
 
 he uttered. It turned out that Captain had 
 
 given her good cause to laugh. Not accustomed 
 to Courts, he had gone to Osborne, oppressed 
 
g6 A Reed SJiaken witli the Wind. 
 
 with the terrible conviction that whenever he 
 spoke to a royal personage, he must use some for- 
 mal title ; and, in his absent way, whenever he 
 spoke to the Princess Royal, he called her ' Your 
 Holiness.' I think this was enough to upset any 
 one's gravity. But they say the Queen was very 
 angry with the Princess for laughing at the poor 
 man. 
 
 " I like Alice Howard extremely ; she is a true- 
 hearted, nice girl — thoroughly Catholic. I think 
 all English Catholics have a peculiar manner ; 
 simple, gentle, and rather up in the clouds, without 
 being dreamy. There is nothing after all influ- 
 ences people so much as their religion. Don't 
 you think so ? 
 
 *' To-morrow we go to the Palazzo Doria. 
 Sight-seeing is our principal occupation ; and there 
 is too much variety here in that line, for the others 
 ever to tire of it, or even to get through it all in 
 one winter. 
 
 '* As to society, we know several people now in 
 Rome, and are constantly seeing them, at our 
 hotel, or forming parties to visit the churches, 
 picture-galleries, etc. , together in a friendly socia- 
 ble way ; but I have refused to go to any of the 
 large receptions. I have too much to do, and feel 
 too tired to make any efforts to increase my ac- 
 quaintance ; and the gossiping stories one hears on 
 all sides, from those who go about a great deal 
 and make society their principal business, do not 
 
A Reed Shaken zvitJi the Wi7id, 97 
 
 give me a very inviting idea of Roman society, 
 but make me all the more anxious to keep out of 
 the way of it. Madeline and Charlotte are going 
 to two dances in succession early next week ; one 
 at the French Embassy, and the other at the Ash- 
 crofts, who have one of the pleasantest houses 
 here, and receive every Sunday evening. 
 
 " Your pretty little friend, Mrs. Willoughby, is 
 here. She has been seriously ill with inflamma- 
 tion of the lungs, but is getting up her strength 
 again now. She is going with us on Saturday for 
 a delightful excursion into the mountains. 
 
 *'The thing I like best about Rome is getting 
 out of it ; it is cheerful even to play at going away. 
 Oh, Wil, you would not doubt about the future if 
 you could only see into my heart, and find how 
 full it is of you, and know how constantly I long 
 for the presence of the sweet love I want so much. 
 You might well indeed be content. Never have I 
 recognized more than to-day the necessity of your 
 love to make my life complete. I did not know 
 how essential you were to me till I felt what every 
 day increases — the longing for just that one thing 
 which makes life perfect, come what may from the 
 outer world. 
 
 '* Yes, you dear self-contained old Wil. I don't^ 
 think you would hesitate to claim your little girl, 
 if you could see for one half minute into her heart 
 of hearts — which is all yours. 
 
 '' Good-by, my own ! Remember a yearning, 
 .5 
 
98 A Reed Shaken with the Wind. 
 
 lonely, wretched, little being, who longs, and 
 longs, and prays, and loves, and does all in fact 
 that such tormented little halved creatures gen- 
 erally do, and all to no purpose. 
 
 ** Your own, and yours forever, 
 
 '* Tiny. 
 
 "P. S. — I send you some little ties which you 
 must wear and fancy yourself at Rome." 
 
CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 ** Let us be content, in work, 
 To do the thing we can, and not presume 
 To fret because it's little." 
 
 Aurora Leigh. 
 
 As Wilfred read the last sentence in Tiny's let- 
 ter he was unpleasantly aroused to a sense of the 
 flight of time, by the peculiarly loud and unmusi- 
 cal sound of his landlady's staircase clock ; so, 
 hurriedly thrusting his arms into his coat, he made 
 his way, regardless of appearances, past Bucking- 
 ham Palace, through St. James's Square into Pall 
 Mall. 
 
 Wilfred had hardly'settled down to his work be- 
 fore he received a summons to his chief's private 
 room. 
 
 When he entered. Sir Thomas Slade was finish- 
 ing a letter, and looking up hastily, said in a 
 courteous tone, " Good morning, Mr. Lane ; I 
 shall be disengaged in a few minutes." 
 
 Wilfred sat down by a table on which lay T/ie 
 Times ; and, after glancing at the latest telegrams^ 
 he began to speculate in an unusually curious way 
 upon Sir Thomas Slade's motive for sending for 
 him. 
 
lOO A Reed Shaken zvith the Wind. 
 
 There was nothing very remarkable in the cir- 
 cumstance after all ; but, somehow or other, Wil- 
 fi ed Lane felt his attendance that morning had not 
 been required in the mere ordinary course of busi- 
 ness. Knowing how little Mr. Chamberlain (Sir 
 Thomas' Private Secretary) had been at the office 
 during the last week, owing to his rapidly failing 
 health, Wilfred began to think Sir Thomas Slade 
 was about to ask him to do some of Chamberlain's 
 work, while the latter took a month's rest at Pau 
 or Mentone — a plan of which he had often talked. 
 
 '' I sent for you, Mr. Lane," at last began Sir 
 Thomas, laying down his pen, ** because I regret 
 to say Mr. Chamberlain is obliged to give up his 
 work altogether. As the gentleman to whom my 
 secretaryship was promised is unable from private 
 reasons to accept it now, I have much pleasure in 
 offering it to you, having noticed that you are the 
 most careful and accurate man in the office." 
 
 ** I shall be very glad to accept it, sir," said 
 Wilfred, who was greatly surprised at this stroke 
 of good fortune, " and I feel very grateful for the 
 kind opinion you have expressed, which I hope I 
 may always deserve." 
 
 " You must be prepared to enter upon your 
 new duties at once, in fact, this very day ; " and, 
 as he spoke, Sir Thomas pushed a bundle of 
 letters across the table to Wilfred. "The truth is. 
 poor Chamberlain was not fit for much last week, 
 and these papers have accumulated in conse- 
 
A Reed Shaken with the Wind, loi 
 
 quence. You will find my notes on the back of 
 each ; be good enough to carry out my instruc- 
 tions, and, when you observe a cross at the end of 
 my memoranda, you may know I wish to sign the 
 letter myself, it must therefore be written accord- 
 ingly. I daresay for the next day or two you will 
 meet with several signs which will puzzle you ; get 
 through the work which is plain, and then come to 
 me with any requiring explanation. I shall ex- 
 pect a little extra interruption at first." 
 
 After a few more directions, Sir Thomas desired 
 Mr. Lane to take possession of Mr. Chamber- 
 lain's room, and informed him that his additional 
 salary would commence from that day. 
 
 When Wilfred found himself fairly installed in Mr. 
 Chamberlain's place, it was contrary to human nat- 
 ure to expect he should think of another man's 
 misfortunes, rather than of the good which they 
 had been the means of bringing him. 
 
 Here, indeed, was a sudden rise, and an utterly 
 unexpected one. 
 
 His work would of course be considerably 
 heavier, and far more onerous ; but an extra salary 
 of ;^250 a year made the former sink into insignifi- 
 cance, and the latter he contemplated with unmiti- 
 gated satisfaction. Now, he thought, he should 
 have an opportunity of proving his real value, and 
 this secretaryship might, perhaps, lead to some 
 ultimate advancement. 
 
 Wilfred Lane knew his own powers, and felt 
 
I02 A Reed Shaken with the Wind, 
 
 they could be much better employed in the pubHc 
 service, in positions of greater trust than the one 
 he had previously occupied. Possessing an evenly 
 balanced mind, without any tendency to conceit 
 or self-assertion, he was able to estimate his own 
 capabilities, without over-rating or unduly depre- 
 ciating them. 
 
 It is quite as impossible for a man of real power 
 to be unconscious of it, as it is for a woman to be 
 ignorant of her beauty and personal attractions. 
 
 A thoroughly educated man, in the fullest sense 
 of the word, Wilfred knew what faculties he pos- 
 sessed, and the uses to which he could best apply 
 them — the first step to enable an individual to act 
 wisely in any station of life. But he had also rea- 
 lized one of the last — the significance of almost 
 every act of a man's daily life, in its ultimate oper- 
 ation on himself and others ; and, having naturally 
 a very strongly marked character, his gentleness 
 and modesty shone out with an unusual grace, for 
 these qualities were in keeping, as they always 
 must be, with the largeness of his apprehension 
 and his perception of the infiniteness of the things 
 he could never know. 
 
 The first day's work in his new position did not 
 prove a light one. It was, indeed, true that, 
 owing to Mr. Chamberlain's illness and irregular 
 attendance, all the less pressing letters had been 
 laid aside until they had accumulated into a very 
 formidable heap. Wilfred v/as busy over them, 
 
A Reed Shaken with the Wind. 103 
 
 when he was surprised by a kind letter from Mr. 
 Chamberlain, saying how glad he was to hear that 
 Lane was his successor. Had he been able to 
 leave home he should have looked in, to explain 
 the way in which he left Sir Thomas Slade's pa- 
 pers. Should Lane, however, require any infor- 
 mation, and think it worth his while to call, he 
 knew where to find him. 
 
 Wilfred was pleased with Mr. Chamberlain's 
 letter, which gave him the opportunity of calling 
 as soon as he left the War Office. But he could 
 not wait till then, and lose a day's post, before he 
 despatched a note to Rome to tell Tiny of his ap- 
 pointment. If he had hitherto restrained his feel- 
 ings when he wrote, in accordance with his resolu- 
 tion, there was no reason to deprive her of the 
 pleasure of hearing, as soon as possible, of a pro- 
 motion which would, at any rate, make their mar- 
 riage a degree less difficult than it seemed after 
 that fearful talk with Lady Hare wood, when his 
 ''miserable prospects" and ''uncertain health" 
 were so vividly brought before him. 
 
 As Wilfred recalled that afternoon he could not 
 help feeling heartily glad that he owed his present 
 appointment, not to private interest, but to the 
 reasons assigned by Sir Thomas Slade. Above 
 all, he congratulated himself that he was by no 
 means indebted to his aunt for it. Lady Hare- 
 wood had made him sensible of former obligations 
 in a manner which did a great deal towards lessen- 
 
104 ^ Reed Shaken tvith the Wind. 
 
 ing the gratitude he would otherwise have felt, 
 and raising in its place a devout hope that she 
 would in future refrain from bestowing any favor 
 upon him. 
 
 So a few lines were scribbled off to Tiny, to 
 convey the good news, and assure her that her 
 descriptions of Rome were glorious, and the sight 
 of her yellow envelopes the only things which 
 gave him any real pleasure. He hoped soon to 
 see another ; and promised to answer one and all 
 in a way which would thoroughly satisfy her when 
 she returned home ; but at present she must take 
 for granted all her own heart disposed her to wish 
 for. She could not take more than he was ready 
 to give. During the next few days Wilfred had 
 enough to do. He was anxious not to get in 
 arrears with his literary work. He knew, when 
 once he had mastered the accumulated papers, his 
 official employment would not interfere with the 
 engagements he had made in other directions ; 
 and he was bent on leaving no stone unturned, 
 both to make and save m^oney enough to furnish 
 a comfortable little home for Tiny, so that, when 
 Lady Harewood gave her consent, they would be 
 in a position to make a clear start upon their 
 mutual income. 
 
 With the money inherited from his mother, his 
 increased salary at the War Office, and the pro- 
 ceeds of his writings, Wilfred Lane already pos- 
 sessed an income of eight hundred pounds a year. 
 
A Reed Shaken with the Wind. 105 
 
 It was true that his secretaryship was not a per- 
 m'anent one, and there were chances which might 
 curtail the income derived from other sources, but 
 he was in a very hopeful mood, and, in the face of 
 his present good fortune, not disposed to take a 
 melancholy view of affairs in general, or his pecu- 
 niary concerns in particular. 
 
 Tiny was ill in bed when the letter containing 
 the news of Wilfred's appointment reached her. 
 The coming illness upon which she had fathered 
 her melancholy tendency to *' profanity" had 
 already arrived, not however as a bilious attack, 
 but in the shape of a severe cold. Indeed, poor 
 Tiny had not left her room since the day on which 
 she posted her last letter. 
 
 Her delight at hearing of the secretaryship was 
 as great as if Wilfred had been made Governor- 
 General of India. She knew the addition to his 
 salary would be nothing in Lady Harewood's eyes ; 
 and that it would take a very different kind of ap- 
 pointment to reconcile her to the proposed mar- 
 riage ; but she resolved to act as if she thought her 
 mother would offer no opposition, if Wilfred pos- 
 sessed anything like a respectable income. Al- 
 though Tiny was unable to include the result of 
 Wilfred's literary work (for the simple reason that 
 she knew nothing about it), she considered his 
 present salary, joined to her income, sufficient to 
 begin with, and to provide a modest establishment 
 
 with the *' bare necessaries of life." 
 5* 
 
io6 A Reed Shaken with the Wind, 
 
 Not that Tiny Harewood's ideas upon the sub- 
 ject of money had any sound basis. She knew, 
 indeed, that she could not keep her own expenses 
 within bounds, but often borrowed from her sisters, 
 to help her on to the next quarter ; even at the 
 present moment she had two advances to repay, as 
 well as several outstanding bills. This, however, 
 only presented to Tiny's mind a temporary diffi- 
 culty, which would never occur in the future. She 
 was even now ** economizing " (according to her 
 sense of the word) to pay off these sums ; and, as 
 they had been spent in luxuries she ceased to value 
 with their possession, she felt it would be easy to 
 avoid ever again placing herself in a similar posi- 
 tion. 
 
 But Tiny's views upon expenditure were so ex- 
 ceedingly vague, that as far as any executive fac- 
 ulty was concerned, she was (with the best inten- 
 tions) utterly unfit to be a poor man's wife. Large 
 sums of money would disappear before she was 
 conscious of it ; for acute, clever, and observant as 
 Tiny was in most things, pounds, shillings, and 
 pence had no power to make a mental impression 
 upon her. Certainly, she had never yet tried to 
 cultivate a better understanding between her purse 
 and her expenditure, but habitually fell back upon 
 her sisters' good-natured practice of keeping not 
 only her accounts, but her quarterly money ; the 
 latter was never confided to Tiny until a good 
 number of bills from the various dressmakers, jew- 
 
A Reed Shake Ji with -the Wind. 107 
 
 ellers, and dry-goods stores patronized by the little 
 spendthrift were systematically collected and paid 
 by Madeline for the credit of the family. 
 
 Even then this wilful little individual refused to 
 inspect the several items ; and, while she laugh- 
 ingly complained of any reduction in the money 
 she expected to receive, she resolutely declined to 
 believe in the sum total of the paid-up accounts. 
 
 All this, however, and a great deal more, Tiny 
 intended to alter when she married. As Mrs. 
 Wilfred Lane she had unbounded faith in her power 
 of looking through the unpleasant red and blue 
 books containing butchers', bakers', and grocers' 
 weekly accounts ; and she determined to com- 
 mence her duties by purchasing a complete set of 
 housekeeping books, which she had seen in a shop 
 in Bond Street, handsomely bound in green mo- 
 rocco with gold clasps, and standing in an appro- 
 priately expensive case. 
 
CHAPTER XV. 
 
 ** Life treads on life, and heart on heart, 
 We press too close in church and mart 
 To keep a dream or grave apart." 
 
 A Vision of Poets. 
 
 The first person to whom Tiny communicated 
 the news of Wilfred's appointment, was Madehne ; 
 she was always sure of a certain amount of sympa- 
 thy from her sister Madeline ; whose sweetness of 
 disposition and natural goodness of heart made it 
 easy for her to enter into the feelings of others, and 
 rendered it quite impossible for her to banish all 
 interest in her cousin, because she objected to his 
 marriage with Tiny, though of course she wished 
 Wilfred had not fallen in love with her sister, and 
 would have esteemed him more highly had he 
 yielded at once to family opposition. 
 
 Besides a strong personal liking for Wilfred, 
 which had grown up during childhood (much of 
 which had been spent together), and, in addition 
 to many points of sympathy, Madeline had another 
 link with her cousin. Wilfred had often been ac- 
 companied by his friend. Captain Grahame, in his 
 visits to the Harewoods ; and, though no definite 
 
A Reed Shake J I zuitJi the Wind. 1 09 
 
 words of love had ever passed his Hps, a secret 
 understanding existed between Arthur Grahame 
 and MadeHne; she knew that she was loved, and 
 gave him her heart in return. 
 
 When Arthur Grahame's regiment was ordered 
 to the Crimea, Madeline was with some friends in 
 the North of Ireland ; but a message, sent in the 
 farewell letter he wrote to Lane from Portsmouth, 
 fortunately betrayed his secret to Wilfred ; and it 
 was due to her cousin's thoughtful tenderness, that 
 the sad news that Arthur Grahame had been one 
 of the first to fall at the storming of the Redan, 
 was broken to her at a time when her sorrow could 
 find free vent. Although Madeline had never 
 openly acknowledged to Wilfred how much she 
 loved his friend, his exquisite tact and delicacy en- 
 abled her to talk freely of Arthur ; and she re- 
 ceived from him a silent sympathy, which, per- 
 haps, possessed greater healing power than any 
 spoken words. 
 
 Time had done its work in restoring Madeline 
 to serenity and cheerfulness ; but sometimes her 
 sorrow still asserted itself; and then the remem- 
 brance of what Wilfred Lane had been to her in 
 the hour of need came back with such force that 
 she felt herself a traitor in opposing his marriage, 
 and sometimes almost determined to desert her 
 mother and Charlotte, and to go over openly to 
 the enemy. 
 
 But, if she wavered in giving Wilfred and Tiny 
 
no A Reed Shaken with the Wind. 
 
 a steady outward adherence, she certainly could 
 not refrain from rejoicing in her heart at any good 
 fortune which tended to promote the fulfilment of 
 their wishes ; and accordingly she was as much 
 pleased as even the exacting Tiny could desire, at 
 hearing of her cousin's appointment. 
 
 While they were talking over the matter. Lady 
 Harewood's near approach was announced by the 
 peculiar rustling of her stiff silk dress ; and, as the 
 door slowly opened, the very air itself seemed to 
 lose its light and pleasant qualities and to become 
 charged with explosive elements. 
 
 Lady Harewood's entrance always acted as a 
 spell upon her daughters ; the tone of their voices 
 was not only lowered, as she touched the outer 
 handle of the door, but the conversation entirely 
 ceased, and was seldom resumed until after her 
 exit, and then generally in a different spirit, and in 
 another key. 
 
 Yet it was scarcely poor Lady Harewood's 
 fault. She was not exactly unkind to her chil- 
 dren. She was naturally a fretful woman, with 
 irritable nerves ; and her daughters' earnestness 
 and animation probably grated as much upon her 
 sensibilities as her own die-away lachrymose man- 
 ners annoyed and crisped them. But, whatever 
 may have been the cause, the fact remained the 
 same ; and a want of sympathy existed between 
 them, which doubtless produced bad effects upon 
 them all, and deprived the domestic circle of that 
 
A Reed Shaken with the Wind. 1 1 1 
 
 cordiality and freedom which alone entitles a 
 household to the sacred name of home. 
 
 The polite inquiries which Lady Harewood 
 made respecting Tiny's health were chilling in 
 themselves, from a mother's lips. 
 
 After they were satisfactorily answered, Tiny 
 (who was generally in the extreme of either leav- 
 ing her mother altogether in the dark about her 
 concerns, or else doing battle over them in a 
 somewhat too vigorous style) commenced the re- 
 mark she intended to make at the first opportu- 
 nity : 
 
 ** I have just had a letter from Wilfred. Sir 
 Thomas Slade has made him his secretary, which 
 gives him another ;^2 50 a year, so now we have 
 plenty to marry upon." 
 
 Lady Harewood expressed herself duly inter- 
 ested in hearing the news, and showed by sundry 
 signs and innuendoes that she was even prepared 
 to read her nephew's letter ; but, gathering from 
 Tiny's manner that this unwonted exertion would 
 be denied her, she refrained from directly asking 
 for the epistle. 
 
 " It cannot be a permanent appointment," was 
 her freezing remark; ''and as the Ministry is 
 nearly sure to go out early in the spring, you had 
 better advise Wilfred to make hay while the sun 
 shines, for it will not last very long." 
 
 " I don't see that at all," rejoined Tiny; "and 
 anyhow it will probably lead to something better. 
 
112 A Reed Sfiaken with the Wind. 
 
 People like Sir Thomas Slade are fortunately able 
 to appreciate something out of the common way 
 when they have the good luck to meet with it." 
 
 " I dare say your cousin is a very clever young 
 man," rejoined her mother, ** but he is exceeding- 
 ly opinionated ; and I cannot say I think as highly 
 of him as I did." 
 
 " Then I am sorry for you, mamma," said Tiny, 
 raising herself up in her bed, her face flushing 
 with excitement. "It is a pity that Wilfred ever 
 made such a noble sacrifice of his own wishes, if 
 you are incapable of appreciating it. I always 
 told him it would do no good." 
 
 " I don't understand what you mean about * sac- 
 rifice : ' if I chose to come to Rome with your sis- 
 ters, it was neither possible for you to remain 
 behind, nor for Wilfred to accompany us. It was 
 a great mistake ever to allow that young man to 
 make himself so completely at home in my 
 house." 
 
 *' Why, mamma," exclaimed Tiny, *' it was 
 Wilfred himself who proposed your bringing me 
 to Rome ; and as for his coming to our house, he 
 is the best man who ever entered it since poor 
 papa died." 
 
 Lady Harewood was exceedingly glad that the 
 latter part of Tiny's speech gave her an oppor- 
 tunity of evading any further discussion upon 
 Wilfred's share in the visit to Rome. She 
 therefore contented herself with rebuking Tiny for 
 
A Reed Shaken with the Wind. 1 1 3 
 
 comparing any one to her revered father ; and 
 condemned the allusion to Sir Henry as undutiful, 
 disrespectful, and wanting in all proper feeling 
 towards herself Seeing that Tiny was fast losing 
 all self-control, and anticipating an angry scene, 
 Lady Harewood veered towards the door ; and 
 had almost left the room before she concluded her 
 sentence. She saw by the kindling fire in Tiny's 
 eye, and the nervous movement of her hands, that 
 she stood small chance of the last word, unless 
 content to drop her assumed manners — exert her 
 voice to an unwonted pitch — and to exchange her 
 usually languid tone for something more natural 
 though less polite. 
 
 Relieved of her mother's presence, Tiny began 
 to cry. She felt ill, wretched, and hated these 
 contests. She had no intention of saying any- 
 thing disrespectful to anybody when she- began 
 talking ; and she was sure that she had said 
 nothing wrong about her father, for whose 
 memory her reverence was extreme. 
 
 But her conscience did not feel so clear about 
 her mother ; and the sense of the indignation with 
 which she regarded her at that moment, grated 
 against the finer chords of Tiny's character, until 
 the whole seemed to strike a discord. 
 
 These were some of the moments when Tiny 
 longed most for Wilfred. She would tell him all 
 the little perplexities and fights which went on in 
 her own mind ; and while he never scrupled to 
 
114 -^ Reed Shaken with the Wind. 
 
 blame her for want of self-control, he always 
 soothed and entered into the intense provocation 
 produced on a girl of Tiny's temperament by con- 
 tact with a nature like her mother's — a provocation 
 which Tiny would have felt had Lady Harewood 
 only been a person in whose society she was 
 thrown ; but which was roused to an unendurable 
 pitch by the very fact of their close relationship. 
 
 After these scenes Tiny was occasionally like a 
 little mad creature ; her nerves seemed all un- 
 strung, her physical condition thoroughly dis- 
 ordered, and she appeared unable to subdue any 
 sentiment which came first to the surface. 
 
 On the present occasion the discussion was 
 fortunately cut so short that a few moments 
 sufficed to restore her to calmness ; and she de- 
 termined to soothe her ruffled plumes by inditing 
 a letter of congratulation to Wilfred. 
 
CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 * * In the ardor of passion they deceive themselves ; how then can 
 we help being deceived by them ? ' ' 
 
 Goethe. 
 
 ** My Dearest Wilfred, 
 
 "Your letter has just arrived, and it is the nicest 
 I have ever received from you, although it only 
 contains fifty-one words, for I have counted them 
 twice over ! 
 
 ** I am so delighted with dear old Sir Thomas 
 Slade ; I could hug him, and I would, too, if he 
 would only give you an order to write a long 
 letter to me at least once a week, as the first and 
 most important duty of your new appointment. 
 I am sure he would be horrified if he knew how 
 badly you treat me. I don't believe you care a 
 straw for me now, or you could not help saying 
 something loving and kind in your letters. I 
 daresay you pretend that your feelings are too 
 tender for paper. Remember ' Ics extremes se 
 toiLchent.' I shall be thinking the unfeeling * ex- 
 treme ' is the cause of your silence, if something 
 pretty does not come soon. I want a great deal, 
 and much which I cannot have till I get home. 
 
Ii6 A Reed Shake jl with the IViJid. 
 
 When I think of getting back to you my heart and 
 head get dizzy with delight, for I am so lonely. 
 
 ** I have just had a scene with mamma, which 
 makes me long more and more to be with you, 
 in the little home we pictured together, that 
 happy afternoon in the Square gardens. I feel so 
 drearily weary of this solitude ; and the contrast 
 of the quietness, without the solitude, strikes one 
 vividly. Such a home would fill life with sweet 
 hours — hours which would give me strength for 
 any amount of work and goodness. 
 
 • •••••• 
 
 *' Miss Barclay has just been here. She came 
 up and stayed an hour with me. First, she talked 
 about Mrs. Browning, whom she knew intimately ; 
 and ranks next to Shakespeare, and above Tenny- 
 son — far. She told me she considered it some- 
 thing in her life to have known such a person ; 
 that while you were with her, it was impossible to 
 have a low or worldly thought ; she lived in a 
 higher, purer atmosphere than most people ; and 
 was, altogether, even out of her poetry, the most 
 wonderful creature Miss Barclay ever knew. After 
 saying much more than I can write, she read from 
 Mrs. Browning's last volume * Bianca and the 
 Nightingales ; ' and then took up our favorite 
 Sonnets from the Portuguese, and read them 
 through from beginning to end. To say she 
 reads perfectly is poor praise compared to what 
 she deserves. 
 
A Reed Shaken with the Wind. 117 
 
 ''When she came to ours — do you remember 
 it? (if not, look at your book and the mark I have 
 added to your old date) — it seemed so wrong for 
 any lips but yours to read to me — * Hozu do I love 
 thcCy let me eoiint the ways f ' 
 
 " Yes, darling Wil, I can't stand this much 
 longer. I shall become really sick if I stay out 
 here. I feel utterly miserable now. The air is so 
 sweet that it is desperately melancholy work to 
 feel ill and weary in such a place. To complete 
 my unhappy state, there is a harmony flute play- 
 ing melancholy Verdi through the soft sunny 
 spring air. You strong-nerved old Wil, do you 
 think that nonsense ? 
 
 '* I have been to sleep, and I think I feel better ! 
 My little bow-wow Tip is on his arm-chair close 
 beside me ; he tells me to say that he would like 
 to bite you for not writing longer letters to me, 
 and is much surprised that you have never in- 
 quired after him. 
 
 • •••••• 
 
 * * Here goes over all the ink ! That's a judgment 
 on me, either for repeating Tip's impertinence, or for 
 quarrelling with mamma. Wil, in spite of the ink, 
 I really think things look a little brighter for my 
 sleep. Madeline says mamma will be sure .to 
 leave Rome after the Carnival ; and if she does 
 not go to Naples (which is every day getting more 
 and more likely), we shall come straight home. 
 
1 1 8 A Reed Shaken with the Wind. 
 
 " I think I must belong in some measure to the 
 Salamandrine type, or I should not have had such 
 a cruel trial as this sent me ; but, having you for a 
 support, I should be wicked if I let it harden me. 
 
 " No, we are given the materials for making our 
 own moral sunshine, and make it we will ! This 
 must be the end of our troubles. No more suffer- 
 ing, save what we bring on ourselves, or what 
 comes direct from the hand of God. 
 
 *' How delicious to think of your new appoint- 
 ment. With this extra two hundred and fifty 
 pounds we shall have plenty of money. 
 
 ** Madeline tells me to finish this directly, or I 
 shall lose the post. I wish I had gone on writing 
 to you, instead of going to sleep, spilling the ink, 
 and listening to Miss Barclay's reading. 
 
 ** Good-by, my own Wil, I shall make haste 
 and learn how to become a good little wifie. 
 
 " ' I will not be proud of my youth or my beauty. 
 Since both of them wither and fade, 
 But gain a good name by well doing my duty : 
 This will scent like a rose when I'm dead.' 
 
 *' A little effusion from Dr. Watts, the effect of 
 trying to strengthen my memory ! 
 
 ** Your loving 
 
 "Tiny." 
 
 Inside the envelope was a little note, which 
 Madeline had slipped in unknown to her sister, 
 
A Reed Shaken with the Wind. 119 
 
 not only to congratulate Wilfred upon his good 
 fortune, but to ask him to do his best to cheer up 
 Tiny. ** She wants moral tone," wrote Madeline, 
 " and ought to be made to feel that another 
 month's separation is not a lifetime. I know 
 enough of low spirits, myself, to feel very much 
 for the 'dear child, and to wish her to be gently 
 dealt with ; but don't let her spoil her visit to 
 Rome with pining, and making herself ill, if you 
 can help it." 
 
 Wilfred felt very anxious when he read this 
 note. He feared Tiny must indeed be depressed, 
 before Madeline would so far acknowledge his 
 position, as to apply for his influence. 
 
 Under these circumstances he thought himself 
 entitled to write a loving letter. He could not 
 bear the idea that he was withholding what Tiny 
 so sorely needed. It was bad enough to have 
 sent her away at all ; and he felt strongly tempted 
 to break through his resolutions, to write fully and 
 freely from the depth of his heart, and to pour 
 forth all the love he had been storing up during 
 these dreary weeks. 
 
 So he wrote, and urged Tiny to keep well and 
 strong for his sake ; to remember her promise of 
 coming back as ** plump as a pigeon ; " and threat- 
 ened to break down in his new work, unless speed- 
 ily assured of her convalescence. He spoke of 
 having got through the worst part of the time, and 
 said he hoped she would scarcely be able to write 
 
I20 A Reed Shaken with the Wind. 
 
 another letter without telling him something defi- 
 nite about her return home ; and then he could 
 not refrain from adding : "Would to God I could 
 tell you in words one half I feel for you. You 
 little know how I long for the time when my dar- 
 ling will be indeed, and in very truth, my own. 
 Your little moans for my love are painfully preci- 
 ous to me. God hasten the day, sweet one, after 
 which you shall never look in vain for it. Your 
 weary lonely feeling will be, I trust, forever satisfied 
 when I have my own * little sunshine ' in arms 
 which long to enclose her. The future holds but 
 one thing in it to 
 
 ** Yours ever, 
 
 '* Wilfred Lane." 
 
CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 ** Better trust all, and be deceived, 
 And weep that trust, and that deceiving; 
 Than doubt one heart, that, if believed, 
 Had blessed one's life with true believing. 
 " Oh, in this mocking world, too fast 
 The doubting fiend o'ertakes our youth ! 
 Better be cheated to the last, 
 Than lose the blessed hope of truth." 
 
 Frances A. Kemble. 
 
 When Tiny received this letter she jumped 
 about for very joy. 
 
 Knowing Wilfred's determination of character, 
 and his resolution to say nothing in his letters but 
 what a cousin might write, she felt his love for her 
 must indeed be deep and strong, for this expres- 
 sion of it to have escaped him. Of course she did 
 not know that Madeline had written ; for Wilfred 
 gathered from his cousin's way of wording hqr 
 note, that he was not to mention finding it in 
 Tiny's envelope. 
 
 She sent this answer by the same day's post. 
 6 
 
122 A Rccd SJiakcn with the Wind. 
 
 *' Oh! You Dearest Old Boy, 
 
 * ' I am so glad I have hunted you down from 
 your pedestal, and made you say one lover-like 
 thing at the last gasp ! 
 
 " The others have all gone to the Vatican ; and 
 I was staying at home by myself, when your dear 
 letter was brought in. When I read it, I was so 
 glad I was alone. 
 
 " I wish you would always write to me what 
 passes in that great heart of yours ; for I cannot 
 help thinking our future happiness depends on 
 our being one, as much as possible, during this 
 horrible separation. My letters would be alto- 
 gether filled with what concerns you and me, only 
 you told me to tell you of all I do and see. But, 
 though life is so full, and there is so much going 
 on around me, when the day is over, with its as- 
 tonishingly beautiful sights, I feel the awful want 
 of my own true love to soothe me, and to gloss 
 over everything in life with his tenderness. Your 
 absence is more a want at the root oi life than an 
 absolute active pain. 
 
 " I went to a French service yesterday in a Lu- 
 theran chapel, and liked the sermon very much, 
 because it reminded me of what you had been to 
 me. The text was from that chapter where Elijah 
 goes into the desert in a state of despondency, and 
 says, * It is enough, O Lord; now take away my 
 life, for I am no better than my fathers.' 
 
 "The sermon was on the moments of despond- 
 
A Reed Shaken with the Wind. 123 
 
 ency which come to every one, almost — either 
 from great moral pain, or from emptiness in life, 
 and the feeling of self-detestation, or from the 
 higher impulses never being satisfied — being con- 
 tradicted, in fact, by our habits. And how all 
 this dissatisfaction encrusts life with a melancholy 
 in the soul, which brings at last all who live in 
 and for the world to the state when death seems 
 the only outlet for their misery. He described 
 most wonderfully the feeling which the suppression 
 of all high motives to action produces. I could 
 not help thinking of last year, when I was so mis- 
 erable, and prayed for an influence strong enough 
 to take me out of the melancholy of an excited, 
 vapid life ; and how you, my own strong Wil, ef- 
 fected what no saint, angel, or anything else good 
 and human, could have done. 
 
 '' I wonder whether I shall ever be able to tell 
 you all that passes in my little person ? If you 
 were Father Confessor to me, as well as the many 
 other things you are, it might be well ! I cannot 
 help thinking it would be good to recognize in 
 words, and to another — such another as you are to 
 me — all the shortcomings of one's thoughts. 
 
 '' Oh, Wil, the w^orld is a funny place — and it is 
 made so strange by these queer hearts of ours. 
 
 * * There are certain faults which are scarcely 
 recognizable, and yet they eat into the very char- 
 acter ; and, more or less, this makes the world at 
 core a very lying, deceptive one. There are few 
 
124 A Reed Shaken with the Wind. 
 
 if any saints in it after all ! There are many pas- 
 sionless, feelingless, otherwise good people who 
 pass for such ; but who knows what calm lives 
 have been allotted them ? I don't know why I am 
 writing this homily to you. But I feel very 
 stupid. What does it matter ? my old Wil must 
 have me — stupid or otherwise — ^just as he finds 
 me. He has promised to take me, for better for 
 worse, and he can't alter, however idiotic I be- 
 come ! 
 
 " Your loving 
 
 ''Tiny." 
 
 There was something in the tone of this letter 
 which Wilfred could not understand, and which he 
 did not altogether like. Was it possible that 
 Tiny, who appeared so frank and open, and who 
 seemed as if she could not keep the smallest secret 
 to herself — was it possible that she would hide 
 thoughts and feelings which she knew would cause 
 him pain, and perhaps displeasure ? Wilfred dis- 
 missed this idea as ridiculous. Did he not know 
 Tiny from beginning to end — had she not often 
 told him that no one in the world understood her 
 but himself? 
 
 What could Tiny have to hide from him ? 
 Nothing surely but feelings which, as a wife, she 
 would gladly confide to him ; but which, divided 
 as they were, it was only natural she should retain 
 in her own bosom. He ought to be satisfied, and 
 
A Reed Shake7i with the Wind. 125 
 
 he was satisfied with the frank and free expression 
 she now gave to her affection for him. The rest 
 would all come in the happy future, which Wilfred 
 so often pictured, as he walked back from his 
 office ; and he sighed for the time when, instead of 
 going to his chambers, he should hasten towards 
 a real home, and be greeted by a fair young wife 
 who promised to bring him such peace and happi- 
 ness in the future. 
 
 Had Wilfred been less occupied, he might have 
 dwelt upon Tiny's expressions more than he did : 
 but life was very full to him, and, though his 
 whole heart was centred in her, other interests 
 claimed so much of his time that he was prevent- 
 ed from following out the train of thought which 
 this letter at first suggested. 
 
CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 ** Till I press thee against my heart — my wife — 
 {Come thou wilt, tho' I know not when) 
 While I bide my time, thus I'll live my life, 
 Aye, my love I will keep till then." 
 
 Semper Fidelis. 
 
 Lady Harewood was at last fairly tired of 
 Rome ; and, having spent a great deal more money 
 than she intended, did not care to go to Naples. 
 
 After all, she had been away from England 
 for four months. It was not to be supposed she 
 should inconvenience herself for the sake of keep- 
 ing Wilfred and Tiny apart for the exact time sug- 
 gested. Besides which, an earlier return would 
 enable her to take up a position for which her 
 nephew would be unprepared, and of which she 
 determined to say nothing till she reached Gros- 
 venor Crescent. 
 
 When Tiny heard that they were going direct 
 to London, her delight knew no bounds. She re- 
 garded the visit to Rome as the term of her sepa- 
 ration from Wilfred : and, being innocent of 
 Lady Harewood 's further plot against their happi- 
 ness, she believed the barrier to their union would 
 now be removed. So, a few days after Wilfred 
 
A Reed Shake Ji zvith the Wind. 127 
 
 had received the letter, which caused him the 
 
 speculations already recorded, the long-expected 
 
 tidings of Tiny's speedy return gladdened his 
 
 eyes. 
 
 *♦ Rome. 
 
 " Oh, Wilfred, I could sing with joy ! What a 
 blessing it is that everybody isn't like you. Had 
 you come to Rome instead of remaining in Lon- 
 don, I suppose nothing on earth would have in- 
 duced such a precise old monster to leave it a 
 moment before the cruel six months had expired ; 
 you obstinate, hard-hearted man ! 
 
 *' At last I have something ' definite ' to tell you 
 of our return. Mamma has determined on going 
 straight to London ; and has ordered us to get our 
 heavy luggage ready for forwarding, as soon as 
 ever we can. So now I will go on to tell you of 
 the proceedings of a no longer dreary little per- 
 son ; but of one who is filled with delight at the 
 thought of being able soon to extort all you have 
 promised to give in answer to letters, which have 
 been received with a coolness and want of thank- 
 fulness for which you shall most certainly be 
 called to account. 
 
 " Well, our expedition to Frascati was delight- 
 ful. It was a great success, and we did it in all 
 completeness. The views were quite beyond de- 
 scription beautiful, in their own line. We drove 
 all day in two vehicles, one a large open omnibus, 
 and the other an ordinary carriage. 
 
128 A Reed Shaken with the Wind. 
 
 '* We lunched all together on a green, sunny 
 corner of a vineyard, and came home from Albano 
 by train, reaching this at half-past eight o'clock. 
 
 " The sunset over the Campagna was something 
 too exquisite. My own Wil ; we imtst come and 
 wander among these mountains together ; they are 
 so beautiful. 
 
 ** But I can't write. I can only think of seeing 
 dear old London again, with its ugly houses and 
 dull streets and squares. 
 
 " I have been trying to read Ruskin, but even 
 that I could not do — for a dear face and its wicked 
 brown eyes would come between me and the 
 pages. I did enjoy though, immensely, a little bit 
 of his about the pines. Do you remember it ? 
 And then about the flowers ; how and why the 
 greatest masters didn't paint much for the sake of 
 flowers, explaining what I have often felt about 
 them — the limited definite feeling they leave. 
 They want the closest attention ; but when you 
 have given that you know all — there is no further 
 mystery. 
 
 ** Flowers, he says, seem intended for the so- 
 lace of ordinary humanity. Children love them ; 
 quiet, tender, contented, ordinary people love 
 them as they grow ; luxurious people rejoice in 
 them gathered. Passionate or religious minds 
 contemplate them with fond, feverish intensity ; 
 the affection is seen severely calm in the works of 
 many old religious painters. To the child and the 
 
A Reed Shake Jt with the Wind. 129 
 
 girl, the peasant and the manufacturing operative, 
 to the grisette and the nun, the lover and the 
 monk, they are alway^precious. But to the men 
 of supreme power and thoughtfulness, precious 
 only at times ; symbolically and pathetically often 
 to the poets, but rarely for their own sake. They 
 fall forgotten from the great workmen's and sol- 
 diers' hands. Such men will take in thankfulness 
 crowns of leaves or crowns of thorns — not crowns 
 of flowers. And then he tells a lovely story of 
 his friend who went with him into the Tyrol one 
 early spring and saw a strange mountain in the 
 distance, belted, he thought, about its breast with a 
 zone of blue, which turned out to be a belt of gen- 
 tians, which, as they approached, expanded into 
 a richer breadth and heavenlier blue. 
 
 '* It is such a strange effect reading Ruskin with 
 the window open — a lovely, balmy, spring feeling in 
 the air — and the sounds of all this idiotic Carnival 
 going on in the distance — guns firing for the races, 
 and the noise of a crowd all over the place. We 
 had a number of friends in our balcony this morn- 
 ing, throwing sugar-plums at the people in the 
 street below ; I think the Carnival stupid beyond 
 description ; and how men can make such fools of 
 themselves, for ten of God's whole days, baffles 
 my comprehension. 
 
 " Now that this separation is nearly over, I 
 
 almost feel able to say that I am glad I came. 
 
 What you are to me I should never have known 
 6* 
 
130 A Reed Shaken with the Wind. 
 
 without it ; and this shows me how utterly I be- 
 long to your life — our life — our sweet life, out of 
 the world, all to ourselves. It is a future to live 
 for ! But I shan't feel safe till I am really with 
 you. The slightest thing amiss, and I directly 
 think of the dear, strong arm which makes every- 
 thing so easy to bear. I broke a looking-glass 
 the other day, and that is so dreadfully unlucky ! 
 I hope nothing will happen ; and assuredly it well 
 might, for the delight of leaving Ixere so soon is 
 too much for me. 
 
 " It is so delicious to think I may begin to say, 
 with some idea of its being true, * to-day is the last 
 Monday in Rome.' 
 
 '* At the Vespers, yesterday, I pitied all the 
 poor old priests and monks, who will go on sitting 
 in their places for ever so long, without any Wil 
 (or its equivalent) to go to. But I am getting 
 maudlin ! 
 
 "I have splendid plans for the future, and in- 
 tend to lead such a regular life. It shall be a 
 religion to get up early; my physical strength, 
 will be devoted to those things you have taught 
 me to love ; and my moral strength to make you 
 happy. So you see Rome is very little to me 
 now, one way or another. I am only thinking of 
 this day fortnight. Good-by, my own Wil ; pre- 
 pare yourself for no end of torment from yours, 
 now and forever, 
 
 "Tiny." 
 
A Reed Shaken with the Wind. 131 
 
 After this Wilfred heard no more until he re- 
 ceived a little hurried scrap, dated Hotel West- 
 1/iijister, PariSy which told him that the Hare- 
 woods expected to arrive at the Charing Cross 
 station on the following Thursday night, at twenty- 
 five minutes to eleven o'clock, if trains and 
 steamers did their duty, and brought them as 
 quickly as Tiny wished to come. 
 
CHAPTER XIX.* 
 
 ** Expecting joy is a happy pain." 
 
 Adelaide A.' Procter. 
 
 The clock was striking half-past ten as Wilfred 
 Lane walked into the Charing Cross station. 
 Making his way at once to the platform, he awaited 
 the arrival of the tidal train from Folkestone. 
 
 Of course, it was late that night ; and as Wilfred 
 impatiently paced up and down, the idea of seeing 
 Tiny again began to feel like a dream. It almost 
 seemed a trick of his imagination ; and he half 
 expected, when the train disgorged its occupants, 
 that no Tiny Harewood would be found among 
 the travellers. As he took her note out of his 
 pocket to reassure himself, Lady Harewood's car- 
 riage drove into the station, in evident anticipation 
 of what was to come. 
 
 In a few minutes the railway officials began to 
 collect, and the approach of the train was so 
 clearly indicated that Wilfred thought by the time 
 he had taken one walk down the length of the 
 platform, his waiting would be over. 
 
 He had nearly reached the furthest end, when 
 
A Reed Shaken with the Wind. 133 
 
 he heard a quick step behind him, and the familiar 
 voice of Lady Harewood's footman accosted him 
 with the pleasant sound — 
 
 *' The train is just coming in, sir." 
 
 As the man spoke, it slowly steamed into the 
 station, with a pufif, puff, puff, which sounded very 
 differently in Wilfred's ears to that horrible grating 
 sound the steamer had made at the Folkestone 
 pier four months ago. 
 
 Tiny Harewood was eagerly looking out of the 
 window, and caught sight of Wilfred long befoie 
 the train stopped. The carriage which contained 
 this precious treasure passed him, though he had 
 rapidly walked to the other end of the platform ; 
 but it was scarcely this which made his heart bea/ 
 loud and fast. 
 
 By the time he reached Tiny's carriage a porter 
 had already opened the door, and before Wilfred 
 knew what was going to happen, regardless of the 
 crowd around her, or the presence of her mother 
 and sisters, Tiny sprang into his arms, and gave 
 him an embrace, which not only took him com- 
 pletely by surprise, but knocked his hat off, much 
 to the annoyance of an irascible old gentleman 
 who immediately put his foot through it, and con- 
 sidered himself the aggrieved party. 
 
 As Wilfred Lane handed Lady Harewood into 
 what her daughters always called the "family 
 hearse," he felt somewhat discomposed, for he was 
 averse to public exhibitions of affection. The 
 
134 A Reed Shaken with the Wind. 
 
 meeting had been so sudden, and the unfortunate 
 hat had taken such a prominent part in it, that he 
 found it impossible to exchange a word with Tiny. 
 Now he must say " Good-night," for John and the 
 maid had discovered the luggage, and there was 
 nothing more to detain his aunt. 
 
 " I am very glad to see you back again," said 
 Wilfred, speaking to Lady Harewood, but holding 
 Tiny's hand firmly in his ; " I hope you will let 
 me look in to-morrow at five o'clock, aunt. 
 
 ** Certainly," she replied, in a formal tone, 
 which augured ill for the future happiness of the 
 young lovers ; *' what I have to say to you, Wil- 
 fred, might just as well be said at once." 
 
 '* Good-night, Wil," said Tiny; *' I am so 
 happy. To-morrow at five o'clock ! Don't be 
 late," she added ; and the carriage drove off be- 
 fore Wilfred had time to reply save by an extra 
 pressure of the little hand he had held captive dur- 
 ing this conversation. 
 
 John disappeared with his mistress, and Mr. 
 Lane found the maid still struggling with the lug- 
 gage, which had yet to be put on her cab. She 
 was very grateful for his assistance, and the por- 
 ters seemed much more willing and brisk now they 
 had a gentleman to look after them and the hope 
 of a ** tip " at the end of their labors. 
 
 Mrs. Smith was not only fatigued with the jour- 
 ney, and incensed with John, who ought, in her 
 opinion, to have kept Lady Harewood waiting till 
 
A Reed Shaken with the Whtd. 135 
 
 he saw the luggage on the cab, but she was smart- 
 ing under the sense of a deeper wrong. 
 
 It was, in her opinion, a great deal too bad of 
 Lady Harewood to have parted with her courier 
 in Paris. She felt personally aggrieved by being 
 obliged to travel "such a distance alone, with so 
 many changes, and some, too, amongst foreign 
 tongues ; " it was a position which she considered 
 unbecoming to her ladyship and most derogatory 
 to herself. Being left by John before the cab was 
 ready to start was the ** last drop in her cup," and 
 she determined to speak very frankly on the sub- 
 ject to Mr. Watson, as soon as ever she found her- 
 self in the housekeeper's room in Grosvenor Cres- 
 cent. 
 
 ** If gentlefolks wished to keep up to their sta- 
 tion," she intended to remark, " they should be- 
 have different before a whole train load of people, 
 not to reckon the steamer, who might any day 
 turn out to be the nobility of their own circle." 
 
 *' Law, Mr. Lane, excuse me, sir," said Mrs. 
 Smith, when she found herself comfortably settled 
 in the cab, with the luggage piled up over her 
 head, and the seats crammed with the small bags 
 and wraps which had all been left by the offending 
 John; **but what has happened to your hat? 
 You can never walk through the streets with it, 
 sir." 
 
 '* Well, I don't think many people will notice it 
 at this time of night," said Mr. Lane, laughing, as 
 
136 A Reed Shaken with the Wind. 
 
 he told the cabman where to drive, and, with a 
 friendly good-night to Smith, whom he envied from 
 the bottom of his heart when he thought how soon 
 she would see Tiny, while he had to wait till five 
 o'clock to-morrow afternoon, he watched the cab 
 rattle out of the station, and walked thoughtfully 
 back to his own chambers. 
 
 There was something unpleasant in the ring of 
 Lady Harewood's voice, he thought, and the man- 
 ner in which she answered his request for leave to 
 call on the following day. Was it possible that 
 she meant to oppose him still ? Had Tiny been 
 right in her conjecture that her mother avoided a 
 distinct promise with a view to this ? 
 
 If so, what could he do — -what ought he to do ? 
 He could no longer doubt Tiny's love. She had 
 stood the test of a long separation, and the greet- 
 ing she had given him at the station was assurance 
 enough that he had her whole heart, and that she 
 did not mind who knew it. Wilfred Lane had 
 been quite unprepared for such a demonstration, 
 and would certainly have preferred a less public 
 embrace. Still, as a proof of Tiny's thorough de- 
 votion to him, the remembrance of it was very 
 precious. 
 
 But when he reached his lodgings he was obliged 
 to dismiss anxious as well as sweet thoughts, for 
 he had some work which he knew must be done 
 that night. Exchanging his coat for a loose dress- 
 ing-gown, he banked up his fire, lighted his pipe, 
 
A Reed Shaken with the Wind. 137 
 
 and spreading out his papers on the table before 
 him, worked away for some hours. 
 
 Although not a strong man, Wilfred Lane had a 
 wonderful capacity for being able to do with very 
 little sleep. After a night's work (and sometimes 
 a night's illness) which would have sent many a 
 stronger man to his office with a headache and pale 
 face, he would look as bright as usual after his 
 morning bath and breakfast. This constant want 
 of sufficient rest was beginning to make him seem 
 older than he really was, and perhaps added to the 
 already deeply-marked lines on his brow, but 
 otherwise it did not appear to tell upon him. His 
 general health had certainly rather improved of 
 late, and his heart attacks had been far less fre- 
 quent and severe. 
 
 Over and above the delight of knowing that 
 every hour's labor would contribute to Tiny Hare- 
 wood's future ease and comfort, Wilfred Lane 
 loved his work for its own sake. He was passion- 
 ately devoted to subjects of thought out of the 
 beaten line of the day ; and he had naturally an 
 ardent impulse for seeking the genuine truth on all 
 matters, and the gift of finding and recognizing it 
 when found. The impulse for seeking truth is per- 
 haps more common than we think — the gift of find- 
 ing it much rarer. 
 
 But his line of activity was in "■ the war for the 
 liberation of humanity," as Goethe calls it. To 
 help forward by unceasing efforts all schemes con- 
 
138 A Reed Shaken with the Wind. 
 
 nected with education, all things likely to promote 
 a wider belief and a fuller service, Wilfred regarded 
 as little short of a positive duty. He desired, 
 above all things, to protest against the vain and 
 foolish cry after more knowledge, without respect 
 to the work each man has to do and the material 
 of which he is made. He thought both men and 
 women ought to be better educated, but he wished 
 them to have an education of purpose, directed to 
 make them happy, satisfied, and effective in their 
 individual circumstances. 
 
 It was not the good taste and varied and accur- 
 ate knowledge evinced in Wilfred's writings which 
 made them come home to the hearts of his read- 
 ers, so much as the ready and frank appreciation 
 of all human endeavor, and the deep sympathy 
 with all human misery and weakness, which shone 
 through them. 
 
 The quick way to popularity, however, is to 
 mirror back to the age, in vivid coloring, its own 
 thoughts in sharper outline, for distrust of novelty 
 is one of the most marked national characteristics 
 of our English people ; but Wilfred Lane deserved, 
 and ultimately won, a popularity which is of a 
 slower growth. He did not simply reflect the 
 thought of the day, but brought to it new thought 
 and food. His theology, too, was anything but 
 the theology of the so-called religious world, for he 
 was as original as every man must be who has a 
 strong convection. His intense naturalism was 
 
A Reed Shaken zvitJi the Wind. 139 
 
 fatal to all routine thinking. He put the standard 
 of right and wrong, once and for all, inside every 
 man instead of outside him. He felt that every 
 one who wished his influence to be a marked one 
 must work from within outwards, and bring to light 
 his own individuality. He held that ''whatever 
 happens to a man is for the interest of the uni- 
 verse," and that "the whole contains nothing 
 which is not for its advantage " — a theory which 
 enabled him to bear, with cheerful composure, cir- 
 cumstances in his own life which would otherwise 
 have been intolerable ; and believing that the rul- 
 ing part of man can make a material for itself out 
 of that which opposes it, as fire lays hold of what 
 falls into it, and rises higher by means of this very 
 material, he persevered until he had made things 
 his own ; and what luxury is to those who enjoy 
 pleasure, so to him was the doing of things com- 
 fortable to his nature. 
 
 He learnt to hold firmly to this and to be con- 
 tent with it. 
 
 At the same time Wilfred Lane was naturally 
 inclined to regard the world in its divisions and 
 subdivisions ; and, under the aspect of individual 
 cares and sorrows, was unduly impressed with the 
 " night side of life." He had not yet fully rea- 
 lized life and light as synonymous, or, viewing 
 existence in its entirety, seen the complete har- 
 mony of the whole. 
 
CHAPTER XX. 
 
 ** O Love, O fire ! Once he drew 
 
 With one long kiss my whole soul thro' 
 My lips, as sunlight drinketh dew." 
 
 Alfred Tennyson. 
 
 As the hall-door of No. lo Grosvenor Crescent 
 was opened to Mr. Lane on the following after- 
 noon, he was informed that Lady Harewood 
 wished to see him alone in her boudoir, into which 
 Watson ushered him with unusual formality, in 
 evident obedience to some special command. 
 
 "I thought it was better to see you at once, 
 Wilfred, as you requested me to do so," said his 
 aunt, and she paused, thinking it would perhaps 
 be better to allow her nephew to open the case 
 himself, for she began to have a strong sense of 
 the difficulty of her own position. 
 
 "After this long separation, which has tested 
 Tiny's feeling for me, I hope you will consent to 
 our marriage, and forgive me for coming to the 
 point at once." 
 
 " My objections are only strengthened," said 
 Lady Harewood, coldly. 
 
 " Surely you will not withhold your consent 
 
A Reed Shaken with the Wind. 141 
 
 now I am in a better position ? Indeed I have 
 always regarded it as promised in the event of 
 Tiny's remaining attached to me on her return 
 from Rome." 
 
 ** I never made any promise of the kind." 
 
 ** But you followed the plan I suggested," said 
 Wilfred firmly, ** and that condition was attached 
 to it. I shall scarcely think that I am fairly dealt 
 by if you still oppose our marriage. I am aware 
 that Tiny might make a better match in a worldly 
 sense, but you would find it impossible to confide 
 her to any one who will love her more than I do, 
 or seek her happiness more earnestly." 
 
 ** I think your professions would be better 
 proved by your yielding at once to the decision I 
 feel bound to make for my daughter's good. Her 
 father had the greatest possible objection to the 
 marriages of cousins, and I am only acting in ac- 
 cordance with his wishes in opposing yours." 
 
 '* That may be," he replied, with warmth, "but 
 my uncle would have had some consideration for 
 his child's affections. I am sure he would never 
 have sacrificed Tiny's happiness to any theory." 
 
 Lady Harewood was conscious of the truth 
 contained in Wilfred's answer, and, feeling some- 
 what beaten on this point, she resolved to start 
 another. 
 
 ** It is my consideration for Tiny which compels 
 me to remind you, Wilfred, that she has not even 
 had the test of six months' absence from you. 
 
142 A Reed Shake tt with the Wind. 
 
 But I will not allow for one moment that, in fol- 
 lowing out what you are pleased to consider as 
 your suggestion, I am bound by any condition 
 you take the liberty of attaching to it." 
 
 "You surely remember that, after my conversa- 
 tion with Sir Anthony Claypole, the winter at 
 Rome was planned by me, because I felt unwilling 
 to urge that which you so strongly disapproved of, 
 without giving Tiny an opportunity of judging if 
 a marriage (unfortunately in opposition to your 
 wishes) was really essential to her happiness. Sir 
 Anthony saw me at your request, and when I told 
 him I should consider Tiny free to make any other 
 choice during her absence if you consented not to 
 oppose her ultimate decision, he said I could not 
 do more, and expressed himself perfectly satisfied 
 with my proposal." 
 
 " I had long thought of spending this winter 
 abroad, and it is quite absurd of you to lay such a 
 stress on your having talked it over with Sir 
 Anthony. I asked him to tell you how undesir- 
 able such a marriage was for Tiny, and what an 
 ungrateful return you would make for the kind- 
 ness I have always shown you, if you persisted in 
 pressing the point, but Sir Anthony had no right 
 to answer for me ; I should never authorize any 
 one to do so," and Lady Harewood grew quite 
 angry at the bare idea of such a thing. 
 
 ** He did not answer for you, but he said he 
 thought you would see I had acted fairly in allow- 
 
A Rccd Shaken zvith the Wind. 143 
 
 ing Tiny plenty of time to think over the matter ; 
 when away from my personal influence." 
 
 "I do not see that your mere separation has 
 much to do with your influence, when you were 
 constantly writing to Tiny, although you knew 
 how I disapproved of your having any communica- 
 tion with each other. You appear to think that 
 you have acted in a very magnanimous manner, 
 Wilfred, but I confess I fail to see your conduct 
 in that light." 
 
 Wilfred Lane felt thoroughly indignant, for 
 Lady Harewood's tone was even more offensive 
 than her words. With a great effort he controlled 
 the angry remark which rose to his lips. 
 
 '' I do not desire to appear magnanimous, but 
 I have tried to act rightly," he replied, with dig- 
 nity. *' I felt you had every right to object to my 
 proposal, and, still more, to think that my 
 position had given me an undue advantage over 
 Tiny ; I was therefore ready to submit to a fair 
 test, and Sir Anthony considered this was one." 
 
 ** I am not bound to agree with even Sir 
 Anthony Claypole's opinion," said Lady Hare- 
 wood, sententiously, ** and I repeat again that, 
 keeping up by your constant letters the feelings 
 you had already excited in Tiny's mind was 
 not, in my opinion, giving her a proper oppor- 
 tunity of testing her feeling for you." 
 
 "Without seeing my letters," said Wilfred, firmly, 
 " I submit that you are unable to judge me fairly." 
 
144 ^ Rccd Shaken with the JViud. 
 
 ''That in itself is a sufficient proof of their 
 nature ; Tiny would have shown me her cousin's 
 letters," said his aunt, with an emphasis on the 
 word cousin, and with a manner which, to 
 Wilfred, was intolerable. 
 
 ** I think not," he replied, gravely, ** and I am 
 not the person who is to be blamed for your 
 daughter's want of confidence in you." 
 
 ** Anyhow," said Lady Harewood, angrily, 
 " I have quite made up my mind. I will never 
 consent to your marriage with Tiny ; and I tell 
 you, Wilfred, plainly, that unless you are content 
 to forfeit your position in my house, you must 
 show some deference to my wishes. If you 
 will promise me to forego this idea with regard 
 to your cousin, I have sufficient reliance on your 
 honor to allow you to visit here on your old 
 footing ; but if you persist in persuading Tiny 
 to act in opposition to my commands, it will 
 be my painful duty to deny you the house ; " and 
 opening the door which led into the drawing-room 
 as she spoke. Lady Harewood put an end to any 
 further conversation by joining her three daugh- 
 ters, Avho were talking to the two Miss Cun- 
 ninghams and Colonel Fitzroy Somerset. 
 
 Wilfred followed his aunt, and when Tiny saw 
 him she read in the troubled expression of his 
 eyes something of the contest which was going on 
 in his mind. 
 
 Sensitive to a degree which would be con- 
 
A Reed Shaken with the Wind. 145 
 
 sidered absurd by mere men of the world, the 
 sensitive Wilfred was shrinking from the idea 
 that, in order to secure his own happiness, he 
 must bring dissension into his aunt's house, and 
 that Tiny must defy her mother's commands. 
 He did not feel, however, in the least disposed to 
 relinquish Tiny, except at her own bidding ; he 
 had already sufficiently sacrificed himself and her 
 by this weary separation, and his delicate sense of 
 honor was shocked by Lady Harewood's manner 
 of evading what appeared to him a tacit agree- 
 ment. 
 
 Feeling disinclined to listen, in his present 
 mood, to the " small talk" which was being car- 
 ried on very vigorously by his cousins, after 
 a few friendly words with Madeline, he asked 
 Tiny to come down into the library, under the 
 pretext of looking for a book he had lent her ; 
 an excuse which was made not to blind her 
 mother, but to avoid exciting in the minds of her 
 visitors any suspicion as to the real state of affairs. 
 
 When Wilfred closed the library-door, and 
 found himself alone with Tiny, in spite of the 
 unpleasant interview which had just taken place, 
 he gave the answers he had promised to her 
 letters, and did not attempt to control the pas- 
 sionate love, repressed during the weary weary 
 weeks which had elapsed since last he stood alone 
 in that room with her. 
 
 " My own darling," he said, as he kissed the 
 7 
 
146 A Reed Shaken with the Wmd. 
 
 head nestling against his shoulder ; 'Mf you really 
 love me I will never give you up." 
 
 "Has mamma consented?" asked his cousin, 
 looking up eagerly into his face; " she was so 
 unkind again last night about it, and said poor 
 papa would never have agreed to it. I feel sure 
 papa would, if he had ever promised to do so, and 
 mamma ought to be bound by her word, now 
 I have been to Rome." 
 
 ''That is just what she disputes," said Wilfred 
 with just indignation; "your mother says that 
 she never made any promise." 
 
 " But she did," persisted Tiny; "I am sure Sir 
 Anthony will think her very wicked for denying 
 it, for he said if I went to Rome for the winter, 
 mamma would be bound not to oppose us when 
 I came back. What did she say to you, Wil ? " 
 
 Wilfred repeated his whole conversation with 
 Lady Harewood ; and when he came to the clos- 
 ing sentence, Tiny's indignation knew no bounds. 
 She declared she would not remain at home, even 
 if Wilfred agreed to desert her ; in less than a 
 month she would be of age, and nothing should 
 induce her to live with her mother after such cruel 
 conduct. 
 
 Tiny relieved her excitement by a good fit 
 of crying, but Wilfred soothed her by the assur- 
 ance of his love, and promised to induce Sir 
 Anthony Claypolc to mediate in the matter. He 
 could not believe that Lady Harewood would 
 
A Reed SJiakeJi with the Wind. 147 
 
 refuse to listen to the representations of the old 
 friend whose counsel she herself had sought, and 
 if she did, Wilfred resolved on taking the matter 
 into his own hands, and securing his own and 
 Tiny's happiness with as little open defiance of 
 the wishes of the family as was consistent with 
 such a course of action. Kissing away her tears, 
 he assured her that as her happiness was bound 
 up in him, he would allow nothing in the world to 
 separate them for long. 
 
 *'You promised me that if I really loved you, 
 nothing should part us, and I claim your promise 
 now," pleaded Tiny, looking up into Wilfred's 
 face in a way which caused his heart to beat 
 quicker than usual, and sent his blood throbbing 
 through every vein. 
 
 " No, my darling," he said, holding her still 
 closer to him ; ** I will never sacrifice such love as 
 yours for any earthly consideration. I hardly 
 know how to tear myself away from you now ; 
 but if I don't go very quickly, I may lose the 
 chance of seeing Sir Anthony to-day, and it is 
 important to talk to him before your mother sees 
 him, as she doubtless will to-morrow." 
 
 The number of times Wilfred said good-by 
 would have been very inadmissible save in an 
 affianced lover, but he had been parted from Tiny 
 for so long, and had so completely restrained his 
 deep, passionate love, that, now he allowed it ex- 
 pression, he found it difficult to control it at all. 
 
148 A Reed Shaken with the Wind. 
 
 Before he left, Tiny had taken from his watch- 
 chain the signet ring, with the words "AD FINEM 
 FIDELIS " engraved on the seal, which had be- 
 longed to his mother, and which Wilfred had often 
 said should be his first present to his own wife. 
 
 As he placed it on Tiny's finger, she said to 
 him, " Now you will always think of me as your 
 own little wife, Wil ; for no horrid wedding break- 
 fast and long white veil will ever make me feel 
 more yours than I do at this very moment." 
 
 *' God bless you, my darling one," said Wilfred. 
 *' I hold you to be my own true wife in the sight 
 of God. I love you with all my heart. Tiny, and 
 long for the hour when I shall call you mine in the 
 eyes of the whole world." 
 
CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 " Ah me ! For aught that ever I could read, 
 Could ever hear by tale or history, 
 The coui'se of true love never did run smooth." 
 
 Shakespeare. 
 
 A HANSOM CAB was standing at the door of 
 Lady Harewood's house as Wilfred made his exit. 
 It had just deposited Sir Guy Fairfax, who had 
 heard at his club of the Harewoods' arrival from 
 Rome, and had come at once to pay his respects 
 to them. 
 
 • Wilfred jumped into the Hansom, and induced 
 the driver to proceed as fast as possible to Hyde 
 Park Gardens, by the promise of an addition to 
 his ordinary fare. He could not refrain from smil- 
 ing when he contrasted Sir Guy's probable haste 
 to the house in which he would see Tiny, and his 
 own despatch in leaving it, in order to promote 
 wishes which must put such an eftectual barrier to 
 the hopes of his unfortunate but wealthy rival. 
 
 Sir Anthony Claypole was dressing for dinner 
 when Wilfred arrived, but he sent word that if Mr. 
 Lane would wait in the library, he would be with 
 him in a few minutes. 
 
150 A Reed Shaken with the Wind. 
 
 When he heard the state of the case, he felt 
 very sorry for the young people, and was much 
 perplexed as to the best way of helping them out 
 of their difficulty. He thought Wilfred had every 
 right to feel aggrieved by Lady Harewood's con- 
 duct, and could not wonder at his regarding it as a 
 breach of faith. He and Tiny had made the sacri- 
 fice on the understanding that Lady Harewood 
 would waive her objections, if Tiny was proof 
 against the test Wilfred voluntarily imposed upon 
 her. 
 
 Wilfred had rigidly refused himself much ex- 
 pression of his attachment during her absence, and 
 had forced himself to write cold and cousinly 
 letters ; but now, finding that Tiny's heart was so 
 entirely his own, he determined to oppose Lady 
 Harewood's refusal with the same persistency with 
 which he had hitherto controlled himself. 
 
 '* You must stay and dine with us. Lane ; we 
 are quite alone this evening, and Lady Claypole 
 will excuse your not being in evening dress," said 
 Sir Anthony, after listening to Wilfred's account 
 of his interview with Lady Harewood. ** After 
 dinner we will talk over the matter quietly, and if 
 I can see my way to help you, you may rely on 
 my doing so. I think you have behaved very 
 well," added the kind old baronet, after a pause, 
 laying his hand on Wilfred's shoulder, " and, by 
 Jove, Lane, your aunt does not know a true man 
 when she sees one ; and, as to her talk about good 
 
A Reed Shaken with the Wind. 151 
 
 matches," added the honest old baronet in a some- 
 what scornful tone, " she has never yet managed 
 to marry one of her daughters, with all her efforts, 
 and who knows if Fairfax would really come to 
 the point after all ? " 
 
 Now this was a view of the case for which 
 Wilfred was quite unprepared. He had an idea 
 that every man would come to the point with 
 Tiny, if he had only a chance of doing so. He 
 had even serious misgivings about Colonel Fitzroy 
 Somerset, who was as innocent of any matri- 
 monial intentions towards Tiny, or her sisters, as 
 any man who had never even seen them. But, in 
 this matter, Wilfred's love blinded him. His 
 usually calm judgment was unavailable in more 
 instances than one where Tiny was concerned. 
 
 The dinner passed off rather slowly and stiffly 
 as far as Wilfred was concerned, for though he 
 liked both Lady Claypole and her daughter, he 
 was anxious to talk alone with Sir Anthony over 
 his future prospects and his present position with 
 his aunt. 
 
 After the recent interview in the library, Wilfred 
 knew he could never resume a mere cousinly rela- 
 tionship with Tiny, and though he felt extremely 
 anxious to avoid an open rupture with her mother, 
 he had firmly resolved to submit to no further 
 barrier being placed between himself and that 
 little being who had so thoroughly twined herself 
 round his heart. 
 
152 A Reed Shaken with the Wind. 
 
 If Lady Harewood persisted in refusing her 
 consent, Wilfred Lane felt he should defy her 
 authority before very long. 
 
 As soon as the ladies had withdrawn, Sir 
 Anthony took Wilfred into a small room, known 
 by the household as *' Sir Anthony's Study;" 
 Lady Claypole laughingly called it " The Tavern," 
 for Sir Anthony used it as a smoking-room, and 
 the apparent bookcase it contained, with its 
 handsomely bound backs of volumes, disclosed, 
 when opened by the pressure of a concealed spring 
 at the side, sundry pipes, cigar boxes, tobacco 
 jars, as well as some decanters containing French 
 brandy and Scotch and Irish whiskey. 
 
 Not that Sir Anthonv was addicted to drinking^ 
 spirits, but he always smoked after dinner or be- 
 fore he went to bed, and liked to have something 
 at hand, for the use of guests less abstemious than 
 himself, without the trouble of ringing for his 
 butler. 
 
 Wilfred only drank coffee when he smoked, but 
 it must be confessed that he smoked a great deal. 
 He had been obliged to do so for his health at 
 first, and had learnt to look upon it as a pure 
 enjoyment very soon. Besides this, he found that 
 smoking soothed him, and often helped him to get 
 through more work than he fancied he should 
 have done without his pipe. In his excited ner- 
 vous state, that evening, he was especially glad c i' 
 
 "Clouds of the peace-breathing Nicotiana," 
 
A Reed Shaken with the Wind. 153 
 
 and, after an hour spent in Sir Anthony's sanctum, 
 he felt considerably calmer, and far better able to 
 take a hopeful view of his love affairs, though no 
 definite course of action had suggested itself Sir 
 Anthony had seen a great deal of his young friend 
 during the past winter, and had formed a very 
 high opinion of his character and intellectual 
 powers, which he thought would some day secure 
 Wilfred Lane a very high position. He felt more 
 than ever surprised at Lady Harewood's persistent 
 refusal in the face of Tiny's evident attachment, 
 and shocked at her disinclination to keep a 
 promise which once made should have held sacred. 
 With Tiny's money, and Wilfred's present in- 
 come, the young people would be far removed 
 from anything like poverty, and a better match, in 
 a worldly sense, was still only problematical. Sir 
 Anthony Claypole really thought that if Lady 
 Harewood had any sense (and he always had 
 strong doubts upon that point), she ought to be 
 too thankful to secure such a husband for a 
 daughter whose wildness and waywardness might 
 very easily have taken a different and less satis- 
 factory turn. 
 
CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 ** Ah, what will the world say ? The World — therein lies 
 The question which, as it is uttered, implies 
 All that's fine or that's feeble in thought or intent." 
 
 Owen Meredith. 
 
 Sir Anthony Claypole's interview with 
 Lady Harewood was not a pleasant one. He 
 gave her to understand m the most courteous 
 language that he considered she was not dealing 
 fairly by her nephew. Of course she inwardly re- 
 sented this interference, and attempted to justify 
 her conduct by reference to the lamented Sir 
 Henry's opinions, whom she always quoted as an 
 authority when she desired to carry a point more 
 than usually unreasonable — a habit which sug- 
 gested to his friends the very natural regret, that 
 she had not shown more consideration to her hus- 
 band's wishes when he was able to define them in 
 person. 
 
 Sir Anthony Claypole apologized for any seem- 
 ing presumption, but requested Lady Harewood 
 to remember that she had called forth his interfer- 
 ence, in the first instance, by persuading him to 
 represent her feelings to Wilfred Lane. After 
 having induced that young man to propose what 
 
A Reed Shaken with the Wijtd. 155 
 
 appeared to him a fair test of Tiny's affection, he 
 felt himself bound to remind Lady Harewood that 
 the time .had arrived when she was called upon to 
 fulfil her part of the bargain, namely, to waive her 
 objections to the marriage, and to show the con- 
 sideration which, in Sir Anthony's opinion, her 
 daughter's attachment for a man of Lane's high 
 character deserved. 
 
 Lady Harewood made one excuse after another ; 
 first as to the time of her daughter's absence fall- 
 ing short of the prescribed six months ; next as to 
 Wilfred's letters, and so on through a host of dif- 
 ficulties, such as Tiny's age, her nephew's health, 
 etc. ; but she began to see that matters were as- 
 suming a serious aspect, and that a persistency in 
 refusing her consent would be probably followed 
 by an open rupture between herself and the Clay- 
 poles. , 
 
 Sir Anthony did not even appear likely to re- 
 main neutral, but would probably support Wilfred 
 and Tiny in their evident intention to disregard 
 Lady Harewood's authority. Encouraged by 
 this, she felt there was no saying what Tiny might 
 not do, and it would be quite impossible to guess 
 how the affair would end. Besides the feeling 
 that she should not like to be openly defied by 
 her daughter, the great dread of " what people 
 would say " was always before her eyes. 
 
 The possibility of even a runaway match sug- 
 gested itself ! 
 
156 A Reed Shaken with the Wind. 
 
 Lady Harewood shuddered at the bare idea of 
 such a scandal ! She knew Tiny would not hesi- 
 tate about it for a moment — in fact, such a step 
 would have its attractions for this lawless little in- 
 dividual who was so Bohemian in her tastes ; and 
 although she had more confidence in her nephew, 
 still there was a determination about him in their 
 last interview which made Lady Harewood uneasy, 
 for Wilfred had shown by his manner, even more 
 plainly than by his words, that he considered his 
 aunt had broken her promise, and had acted very 
 badly towards both Tiny and himself. 
 
 He might not be capable of running away with 
 his cousin in a base and underhand manner ; but 
 Lady Harewood thought him quite headstrong 
 enough to marry Tiny in defiance of her wishes, 
 especially as he declared that she had failed to 
 keep her part of the engagement which he consid- 
 ered existed between them. If Sir Anthony 
 meant to desert her, and give Wilfred and Tiny 
 his support in this view of the matter, it was clear 
 that something must be done. So Lady Hare- 
 wood resolved on a compromise ; and, knowing 
 Wilfred's repugnance to set aside a parent's au- 
 thority, she thought she would gain time by 
 pledging her consent in a year, during which she 
 determined to lose no opportunity of forwarding 
 Sir Guy Fairfax's wishes. 
 
 So, after reiterating her previous objections, and 
 bemoaning afresh over the loss of the lamented 
 
A Reed Shaken with the Wind. 157 
 
 Sir Henry's guidance at this critical moment, she 
 promised her consent in a year's time ; meanwhile 
 Wilfred should be allowed free access to the house, 
 provided neither he nor Tiny paraded their feel- 
 ings. Lady Harewood refused to acknowledge 
 any "engagement," and stipulated that it should 
 never be put forward as such. 
 
 It had taken such a long time to extract this 
 concession, that Sir Anthony Claypole, not being 
 an ardent young lover, but the sober head of a 
 well-organized household, felt disposed to rest sat- 
 isfied with it. But he had no inclination again to 
 undertake the task of representing Lady Hare- 
 wood's sentiments even to her nephew, and 
 thought it wiser under the circumstances to induce 
 her to express them in writing. 
 
 So, before he left Grosvenor Crescent, he se- 
 cured a promise that she would write to Wilfred, 
 and that the year of probation should date from 
 Tiny's birthday — the 1st of June. 
 
 And then Sir Anthony made his way down the 
 staircase, resolving he would never again under- 
 take the office which his friendship for Sir Henry 
 Harewood and his interest in Wilfred Lane had 
 in this instance induced him to accept ; and he 
 muttered to himself as he walked to his club 
 across the park, " women are queer cattle, "^a 
 favorite reflection of his, but, happily for him, one 
 which was rarely called forth in his own home. 
 
 The writing of the promised letter was ex- 
 
158 A Reed Shaken with the Wind. 
 
 tremely distasteful to Lady Harewood, yet she fell 
 there was no escape from it. Therefore she re- 
 solved to despatch it at once, and then intended to 
 give herself up to the headache which this disre- 
 gard of her judgment and disrespect for her feel- 
 ings would of course entail. So she began accord- 
 ingly :— 
 
 '* My dear Wilfred, 
 
 ** You are doubtless aware of Sir Anthony 
 Claypole's intercession on your behalf, and, as he 
 was such a respected friend of my dear and la- 
 mented husband, I feel anxious to listen to his 
 representations, although obliged to reserve my 
 own judgment. The responsibility, which rests 
 alone upon me, is very hard for any woman to 
 bear ; and is rendered doubly painful by the head- 
 strong disposition of Tiny, which you have, in 
 my opinion, so inconsiderately fostered. Know- 
 ing my child's volatile and excitable nature as well 
 as I do, I cannot possibly consent, in such a 
 hurry, to your wishes, especially as I consider they 
 are most ill-judged. I do not believe that such a 
 marriage would eventually promote j'^//;' happiness 
 any more than hcrs^ and I fear you will live to re- 
 gret your rashness if you follow your own desires 
 in defiance of the mature judgment to which it 
 would only be right for both of you at once to sub- 
 mit. 
 
 '* However, as Sir Anthony urges it, — most re- 
 
A Reed Shaken with the Wind. 159 
 
 luctantly, and fearing that I am acting in a way 
 which your uncle would not have countenanced, 
 — I will consent to your marriage in a j^ear from 
 this date, provided that you and Tiny, during that 
 time, appear before the world as cousins, and 
 never, by word or act, pretend that any kind of 
 engagement exists between you. Upon this condi- 
 tion, I will allow you to visit at my house as before. 
 
 ** Your affectionate aunt, 
 
 ''Jane Harewood." 
 
 Before this letter reached Wilfred, he received a 
 visit from Sir Anthony, who warned him of its 
 contents, and advised him to avoid a family scan- 
 dal by the acceptance of terms which appeared to 
 Wilfred exceedingly hard. Lady Harewood was, 
 in Sir Anthony's opinion, the most impracticable 
 woman he had ever met in his life ; and he con- 
 sidered any reasonable concession a great deal 
 more than could be expected from her. Anyhow, 
 he totally declined to undertake further negotia- 
 tions. Wilfred Lane must either accept what Sir 
 Anthony had, with so much difficulty, wrung from 
 her ladyship after three hours' talking, or else man- 
 age his affairs for himself. 
 
 So, when his aunt's epistle came, Wilfred felt 
 disposed to be thankful that, in the absence of 
 special directions from the ** lamented Sir Henry," 
 Lady Harewood had refrained from taking the 
 
i6o A Reed Shaken with the Wind. 
 
 patriarch Jacob for her example, and commanded 
 her unlucky nephew to wait seven years for his 
 Rachel, and then married him to Charlotte instead. 
 
 A year was not so very long after all, and it was 
 not as if he were to be altogether shut out from 
 Tiny's society. He was to have free access to 
 Grosvenor Crescent, and could see her every day. 
 Then, too, he would be able to save more money, 
 and when the time came for the marriage, would 
 be better able to make a comfortable home for his 
 wife. 
 
 After all. the waiting was harder for him than 
 for Tiny ; a reflection which again disposed Wil- 
 fred to a plan which not only avoided a family 
 quarrel, but (what appeared to him a far more 
 serious thing) an open and undutiful revolt on 
 Tiny's part against her mother's authority. 
 
 When Wilfred told Tiny that Lady Harewood 
 had been with difficulty persuaded to promise her 
 consent in a year's time, and of the condition she 
 imposed upon them meanwhile, that young lady 
 was by no means pleased. And as to ''their 
 friends not knowing they meant to marry each 
 other," she thought it " sheer nonsense," and held 
 up the little ring on her engaged finger most defi- 
 antly. 
 
 But after a conversation with Lady Harewood 
 matters were finally arranged. Wilfred and Tiny 
 agreed to act in society scrupulously as cousins, 
 whatever they chose to consider between them- 
 
A Reed Shaken with the Wmd. i6i 
 
 selves ; and if, on the 1st of June in the following 
 year, they still sought her consent to their mar- 
 riage, Lady Harewood promised to withdraw all 
 opposition, and to allow it to take place without 
 further delay. 
 
CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 *' The stronger will always rule, say some, with an air of confi- 
 dence which is like a lawyer's flourish, forbidding exceptions, or ad- 
 ditions. But what is strength ? Is it blind wilfulness that sees no 
 terror, no many-linked consequences, no bruises or wounds of those 
 whose cords it tightens ? Is it the narrowness of a brain that con- 
 ceives no needs differing from its own, and looks to no results be- 
 yond the bargains of to-day ; that tugs with emphasis for every small 
 purpose, and thinks it weakness to exercise the sublime power of re- 
 solved renunciation ? There is a sort of subjection which is the 
 peculiar heritage of largeness and of love ; and strength is often only 
 another name for willing bondage to irremediable weakness." 
 
 George Eliot. 
 
 From this moment Wilfred Lane never doubted 
 Tiny's love. The proofs she had given of her at- 
 tachment for him during her absence in Rome, and 
 the difficulty he had to persuade her to submit to 
 her mother's subsequent decision, made it impossi- 
 ble for him to suspect the depth of her affection, 
 though her mother and her sisters evidently enter- 
 tained a very different estimate of its value. 
 
 The year's waiting v/as very trying ; for Wilfred 
 Lane was a man who didn't care for the thinos 
 which make the life of a bachelor very pleasant in 
 London. He hated the butterfly existence which 
 
A Reed Shaken with the Wind. 163 
 
 so many are content to lead, and longed for the 
 pure and steady influence of a home he could call 
 his own, sweetened and sanctified by the presence 
 of the woman he could honor as well as love. 
 
 Wilfred had not been without temptations, and 
 to some of these he had succumbed ; but he had 
 never revelled in wickedness as many of his com- 
 panions did, nor dissipated his affections by flirta- 
 tions with every girl who came within reach of his 
 attractions. The only strong feeling he had ever 
 had, and to which, alas ! he had fatally yielded him- 
 self, was for a young and fascinating woman, whose 
 husband cruelly neglected her ; and into whose 
 society Wilfred had been most perilously thrown 
 at an age when he was most liable to fall a prey to 
 an influence exerted over him without intermission 
 or remorse. 
 
 But years had passed since he had broken this 
 spell, though the memory of it often haunted 
 him still. Once he spoke of it to Tiny, for the 
 remembrance sometimes made him feel unworthy 
 of the pure love which she lavished upon him. 
 To his surprise Tiny appeared to know a great 
 deal about it ; for, although Wilfred was aware 
 that the tale had come to Lady Harewood's cars, 
 he was hardly prepared to find it had been made 
 the subject of conversation with his young cousins. 
 
 Tiny, however, dismissed the unpleasant story 
 as a thing of the past, and Wilfred felt that this 
 early attachment had not really diminished his 
 
1 64 A Reed Shaken with the Wind. 
 
 power of loving this pure true-hearted girl who 
 pledged herself to become his wife. Perhaps 
 it even made him more capable of appreciating 
 the feeling with which he regarded his cousin ; 
 he loved her with the same passionate intensity, 
 but the passion was sanctified by the complete- 
 ness of the union to which they both aspired. 
 
 Whenever he could leave his work, Wilfred 
 made his way to Grosvenor Crescent, and shared 
 with Tiny all the pleasures he allowed himself; 
 and though they studiously avoided in society 
 showing that a closer and stronger link than mere 
 cousinhood bound them to each other, Tiny 
 would often hold up her hand, when she saw Wil- 
 fred look at her, as if to assure him that the mean- 
 ing of the ring she wore was never absent from 
 her mind. 
 
 The pleasant readings, and the visits to the 
 old haunts in search of favorite pictures, were 
 all resumed, for Lady Harewood certainly kept 
 to her promise of never attempting to control 
 them. 
 
 " Society" troubled itself very little about the 
 matter ; people had always been accustomed to 
 see Wilfred Lane with the Harewoods, and this 
 constant attendance on Tiny excited little or no 
 remark. 
 
 Of all the strange things of which this world is 
 full, the unwarrantable power of will seems the 
 strongest. Wilfred Lane's feehng for Tiny could 
 
A Reed Shaken with the Wind. 165 
 
 scarcely be called simply love ; it was the moral 
 harnessing of a whole being to the will of another. 
 As the action of the noblest horse is controlled 
 by a slight leather, so is often the human heart by 
 the will, which unconsciously (and in that often 
 lies the secret of its power) directs it to the right 
 and left at pleasure ; and it is often the finer 
 nature which is subjected to this magnetic power 
 of will. 
 
 It was wonderful to see how completely Wilfred 
 was swayed by Tiny. She was a wilful little 
 maiden, with such coaxing winning ways, that she 
 invariably did exactly what she liked with every 
 one but her own mother. 
 
 For a long time Wilfred thought that all this 
 would be altered when Tiny became his wife ; 
 but this was the license young ladies were allowed 
 to indulge in towards their lovers ; and as Tiny 
 in general only required some little sacrifice of his 
 personal wishes, he was ready enough to yield ; 
 but occasionally a sense of disappointment flitted 
 across his mind. 
 
 There were also several subjects of dispute in 
 the home circle. Tiny's determination to absent 
 herself from the balls and parties, at which she 
 knew Wilfred would not appear, gave her mother 
 great displeasure. 
 
 These were the very places to which Lady 
 Harewood was most anxious to take her, es- 
 pecially when there was the remotest chance of 
 
1 66 A Reed Shaken with the Wind. 
 
 meeting Sir Guy Fairfax, who was kept in blissful 
 ignorance of the understanding, or, as Tiny would 
 have it, of the engagement between herself and 
 her cousin. 
 
 Lady Harewood appealed to Wilfred ; but as 
 Tiny made her health a plea for not going into 
 hot and crowded rooms, he declined to interfere 
 in the matter. 
 
 Sir Guy Fairfax, however, had other oppor- 
 tunities given him, of which he took every ad- 
 vantage, and at last Wilfred could not refrain from 
 feeling sorry for the young man ; for it appeared 
 unfair of his aunt to encourage him so openly, 
 when she knew the state of Tiny's mind precluded 
 all hope of the result for which Fairfax was 
 now so earnestly and honestly striving. 
 
 Concealment and secrets of all kinds were 
 foreign to Wilfred's nature ; knowing that both 
 he and Tiny regarded themselves as pledged 
 to each other, Wilfred often felt he acted dishon- 
 orably in even consenting to pass as her mere 
 cousin. 
 
 The season, at last, came to an end. The last 
 dinner engagement had been kept ; the last ball 
 had afforded the dancers, for the first time, suf- 
 ficient space to enjoy themselves ; the opera was 
 about to commence its series of " cheap nights," 
 and the West End of London was beginning to 
 look deserted. 
 
 Tiny and Wilfred were looking forward to a 
 
A Reed Shaken with the Wind. 167 
 
 delightful expedition, which had been planned 
 especially for their benefit by the thoughtful kind- 
 ness of the good-natured Sir Anthony Claypole, 
 who had invited the Harewoods to go with him 
 for a cruise, in his yacht, as soon as Wilfred Lane 
 could get leave of absence from the War Office. 
 
CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 ** No, there's nothing half so sweet in life 
 As love's young dream," 
 
 Moore's Irish Melodies. 
 
 One Saturday afternoon in August, Lady 
 Harewood, Madeline, and Tiny met Wilfred at the 
 London Bridge station, and travelled together to 
 Gravesend. 
 
 Sir Anthony, at first, proposed to start from 
 Southampton, but had ordered his yacht round to 
 Gravesend, out of deference to Lady Harewood, 
 who hated railway travelling as heartily as she 
 considered it ladylike to hate anything. 
 
 Sir Anthony and Miss Claypole awaited their 
 friends' arrival on board the Highflyer, where they 
 , found an excellent dinner ready for them, during 
 which Sir Anthony advised his guests to drink 
 plenty of champagne, recommending it as the 
 best possible thing to enable them to maintain 
 their reputation as good sailors. 
 
 After dinner every one came on deck, and soon 
 the yacht gave sundry signs of ** getting under 
 weigh," and, before long, she was moving slowly 
 down the Thames. Tiny showed a singular inclin- 
 
A Reed Shaken ivith the Wind. 169 
 
 atlon to improve her geographical knowledge, and 
 Wilfred found plenty of occupation in telling her 
 the names of the different places they passed on 
 each side of the river. There was a splendid 
 moon that night, and long after Lady Harewood 
 retired, her daughters and Miss Claypole remained 
 on deck with the two gentlemen, enjoying the calm 
 beauty of the evening, and rejoicing in the thought 
 of the freedom which would be theirs for the next 
 four weeks. 
 
 London, with its close stifling atmosphere, and 
 its still more stifling conventionality, was surely, if 
 slowly, being left behind, and now that Lady 
 Harewood — the only element which reminded them 
 of that oppressive atmosphere — was safely shut up 
 in her cabin, a more congenial party could hardly 
 have been found. 
 
 The time slipped away so pleasantly, that it was 
 nearly twelve o'clock before even Madeline sug- 
 gested that they ought to think of following her 
 mother's example ; but they were all so loth to go 
 below, that they agreed to cast lots as to who 
 should repeat a favorite poem, and sing a song in 
 order to gain a few more moments' enjoyment of 
 the exquisite starlight night. 
 
 Strangely enough, and to the great satisfaction 
 of the ladies, the lots fell upon the two gentle- 
 men ; Sir Anthony caused considerable merriment 
 by immediately serenading London in Lord By- 
 ron's words, ** Isle of beauty, fare thee well," to a 
 8 
 
I/O A Reed Shaken with the Wind. 
 
 new and original melody ; after which Wilfred ap- 
 propriately repeated Heine's delightful lines on the 
 wisdom of the stars : 
 
 *' The flowerets sweet are crushed by the feet, 
 Fall soon, and perish despairing ; 
 One passes by, and they must die, 
 The modest as well as the daring. 
 
 The pearls all sleep in the caves of the deep. 
 
 Where one finds them, despite wind and weather ; 
 
 A hole is soon bored, and theyVe strung on a cord. 
 And there fast yoked together. 
 
 The stars are more wise, and keep in the skies, 
 
 And hold the earth at a distance ; 
 They shed their light in the heavens so bright, 
 
 In safe and endless existence." 
 
 With many lingering good-nights and regrets 
 the first happy evening of the yachting excursion 
 came to an end, the deck was deserted, and the 
 friends separated for the night. 
 
 When the morning dawned, every one on board 
 the Highflyer realized the fact that they were *' at 
 sea ; " for the wind had risen during the night, and 
 the little yacht was tossing and dancing about off 
 the South Foreland in anything but a pleasant 
 manner, and beating to windward in a way enough 
 to discomfort any ordinary landsman. The ladies 
 were far too sick and sorry to leave their berths ; 
 and though Wilfred just managed to get on deck, 
 an(4 was trying to put a good face on the matter. 
 
A Reed Shaken with the IVtJid. 171 
 
 any ardor for salt water, with which he had 
 started, seemed permanently cooled ; and he was 
 forced to confess to himself that he was glad there 
 was no one to witness his discomfiture, or notice 
 the pertinacity with which he held on to the side 
 of the vessel. 
 
 Even Sir Anthony Claypole's affection for the 
 sea was of the most subdued and sober descrip- 
 tion ; and his position as host made him feel 
 somewhat guilty of the miseries old Father Nep- 
 tune was inflicting on his confiding guests. 
 
 The weather continued, in nautical language, so 
 exceedingly *'foul," and the ladies so hopelessly 
 sick, that the Highflyer put back into the first con- 
 venient harbor. An hour after she was fairly an- 
 chored in quiet waters, one pale face after another 
 appeared on deck, until the whole party reassem- 
 bled, but in very different spirits to those in which 
 they had separated the night before. 
 
 A walk on shore, however, revived those who 
 felt strong enough to take it ; and some cold 
 chicken and champagne, the first food any of them 
 had tasted that day, completed the cure. 
 
 Sir Anthony allowed his friends to retire to rest 
 in the happy belief that they should remain all 
 night in the harbor ; but as the wind had changed 
 at sunset, he determined to put out to sea, for the 
 captain thought they could manage to reach 
 Southampton soon after daybreak. The whole 
 party slept so soundly that they were unconscious 
 
1/2 A Reed Shaken with the Wind. 
 
 of the movement of the vessel, and to their delight 
 and surprise they breakfasted the next morning in 
 Southampton waters. 
 
 Finding he had such a sorry set of sailors for his 
 guests, and that their notion of yachting was to 
 hasten on shore at the first opportunity, Sir 
 Anthony Claypole resolved to sacrifice his own 
 intentions of a more extended cruise ; and, to 
 make the month's holiday as enjoyable as he 
 could, he determined to hover between Cowes, 
 Ryde, and Freshwater, and to explore the interior 
 of the island, using the yacht chiefly as a mov- 
 able sleeping-place. 
 
 Tiny was in the wildest spirits ; she and Wilfred 
 delighted in the most perfect freedom, for there 
 was no Sir Guy Fairfax or " society " at hand to 
 oblige them to keep forever on their guard lest 
 they should break the compact to which Lady 
 Harewood compelled such a rigid outward adher- 
 ence. 
 
 During the last week of their stay at Cowes, the 
 Ariel, General Hallyburton's yacht, anchored in 
 the night next to the Highflyer. 
 
 The General was an old friend of Sir Anthony's, 
 and shortly after breakfast the Ariel's boat pulled 
 alongside, and he came on board, accompanied by 
 his yachting companion, Captain Foy. 
 
 When Tiny saw Captain Foy she was so com- 
 pletely taken by surprise, that Wilfred's attention 
 was attracted by her nervousness and evident want 
 
A Reed Shakeji zvith the Wind. 173 
 
 of ease. Captain Foy was, of course, perfectly 
 self-possessed ; he knew that Lady Harewood and 
 her daughters were cruising in the Highflyer : and 
 had quite recovered from the fears which induced 
 him to avoid Tiny immediately after the vehement 
 Windsor flirtation, and finding a long sail with 
 General Hallyburton somewhat dull, he sighed for 
 the variety which the proximity of the Harewoods 
 seemed likely to afford. 
 
 So, after the first greetings were over, he 
 warmly seconded a proposed excursion to the 
 back of the island, where they all had mutual 
 friends, on whose hospitahty they contemplated 
 throwing themselves for a few hours during the 
 middle of that day. 
 
 This was no sooner planned than put into execu- 
 tion, and the whole party landed before eleven 
 o'clock at the point to which the steward had 
 already been despatched to meet them with car- 
 riages for the day's expedition. 
 
 Somehow or other Tiny took her place in the 
 carriage containing Lady Harewood and Sir 
 Anthony, and Captain Foy quickly availed himself 
 of the fourth seat, compelling Wilfred, to his great 
 disgust, to join Miss Claypole, Madeline, and 
 General Hallyburton. Later on in the day, as 
 they all walked on the Downs at Freshwater, 
 Wilfred told Tiny they must manage better in go- 
 ing back, but strange to say she did not appear 
 half so eager about it ; and while final arrange- 
 
174 A Reed Shaken with the Wind. 
 
 ments were being made with the hostlers who had 
 taken charge of the horses, the ladies settled them- 
 selves in their different places for the homeward 
 drive, and returned as they came, with the excep- 
 tion of Sir Anthony and his daughter, who 
 changed places at the last moment, to enable the 
 former to drive back in the same carriage with 
 General Hallyburton. Before the friends parted, 
 Sir Anthoiiy promised, if the wind proved fair, to 
 bring his guests the following day on board the 
 Ariel, for a sail as far as the Needles. 
 
 The day's expedition certainly did not seem so 
 successful to Wilfred Lane as it promised to be 
 when they all left the yacht that morning ; and 
 Tiny apparently was indulging in the same reflec- 
 tion. Anyhow she was clearly out of spirits, and 
 unusually thoughtful and silent. 
 
 After dinner every one came on deck ; the 
 evening was peculiarly still and lovely, and the 
 new moon exquisitely beautiful. 
 
 Talking over the events of the day. Lady Hare- 
 wood expressed her astonishment at finding 
 Captain Foy had never been engaged to Miss 
 Peel, notwithstanding the rumors they had heard to 
 that effect, during the season previous to their visit 
 to Rome. Tiny's face flushed as her mother spoke ; 
 rising from her seat, she complained of being chilly, 
 and began to walk up and down the deck. 
 
 In a few minutes Wilfred joined her, but neither 
 of them seemed inclined to talk. 
 
A Reed Shaken with the VVtJid. 175 
 
 Tiny had already begun to be conscious of a 
 return of the old Windsor feeling, and, in spite of 
 herself, she was engrossed in wondering over the 
 state of Captain Foy's mind. Perhaps, after all, 
 thought Tiny, he had mistaken the way in which 
 she regarded him ; and his apparent sentiment for 
 Miss Peel was a mere screen for the disappoint- 
 ment he experienced when he thought he had 
 failed to reach her heart. She recalled many little 
 speeches she had made, which might easily have 
 been misinterpreted ; and ended by thinking that, 
 but for these. Captain Foy would long ago have 
 declared his love. Of course he was too proud 
 and sensitive to risk a proposal, when she always 
 made a point of turning his attempts at tenderness 
 into ridicule, or else appeared annoyed and 
 offended by the very words she longed to hear 
 from his lips ! 
 
 Wilfred and Tiny had ceased to pace the deck, 
 and were now leaning over the side of the yacht. 
 The foolish little maiden had just arrived at the 
 conclusion that she had given Captain Foy a life- 
 long sorrow as well as herself, and that she was 
 alone to blame for their mutual disappointment, 
 when Wilfred took her hand and pointed to the 
 beautiful reflection of the moon, and the sparkling 
 ripples of the water. 
 
 For the first time Tiny impatiently repulsed his 
 affection. 
 
 " I am so tired to-night," she said, somewhat 
 
176 A Reed Shaken with the Wi7td. 
 
 peevishly, drawing away her hand. *' I wish you 
 would go and talk to the others ; my head aches, 
 and I want to be quiet." 
 
 Wilfred left her, and, asking leave to light his 
 cigar, sat down by Madeline. 
 
 For some time he smoked in silence, wondering 
 over Tiny's pale face and irritable manner. He 
 felt certain something had moved her deeply, and 
 yet he could not imagine what it was, for he 
 never dreamt that day of connecting Tiny's 
 change of mood with Captain Foy's presence or 
 absence. 
 
 Very shortly there was a general move, and 
 Tiny, instead of staying behind as she was accus- 
 tomed to do, for a few minutes' talk with Wilfred, 
 went below with the others, only wishing him and 
 Sir Anthony, who was also smoking, a careless 
 good-night as she passed them. 
 
 The next day's sail opened Wilfred's eyes to one 
 fact. He could not tell what had gone before, but 
 certainly, at the present moment. Captain Foy 
 paid Tiny very marked attention, and she betrayed 
 a greater interest in him than Wilfred thought her 
 relation with himself and acquaintance with Foy 
 at all warranted. 
 
 This went on for days ; for if General Hallybur- 
 ton and his guests were not on board the High- 
 flyer, Sir Anthony and his party sailed in the 
 Ariel, or they made some inland excursion to- 
 gether. All this time Tiny successfully eluded 
 
A Reed Shaken with the Wind. lyj 
 
 being alone with Wilfred without appearing to do 
 so intentionally. 
 
 One bright morning, when Wilfred came on 
 deck, he could not suppress a feeling of satisfaction 
 on discovering that the Ariel had forsaken her 
 moorings. He knew by this that General Hally- 
 burton had carried his threat into execution, and 
 sailed at daybreak for Cherbourg. 
 
 Before Foy could return the Highflyer w^ould 
 have left for Dartmouth, according to the arrange- 
 ment of the previous night. For once Wilfred 
 blessed Lady Harewood for carrying her point 
 about seeing the Devonshire coast, which she had 
 done rather in opposition to the rest of the party, 
 who were evidently in favor of still coasting round 
 the Isle of Wight. 
 
 Tiny's apparent indifference when Sir Anthony 
 announced at breakfast the departure of his friends 
 somewhat re-assured Wilfred, who straightway 
 accused himself of mean and jealous feelings, 
 unworthy of himself and of his love and devotion 
 for Tiny. 
 
 It had been agreed the day before that the two 
 yachts should sail together to Ryde, unless the 
 Cherbourg plan came off, which Captain Foy 
 heartily hoped it would not. So the Highflyer 
 was already under weigh before breakfast was fin- 
 ished, and a fair wind soon brought her within a 
 convenient landing distance from the pier. 
 
 Just as they were preparing to leave the yacht, 
 
 8* 
 
178 A Reed Shaken with the Wind. 
 
 Tiny excused herself from going on shore, on the 
 plea of a headache, and when Wilfred offered to 
 stay with her, she for once heartily echoed her 
 mother's objection, and declined his proposal on 
 the ground that she would be more likely to get 
 better if left quite alone. 
 
 So they started without her ; but to Wilfred the 
 day was thoroughly spoilt. He had looked for- 
 ward to it so eagerly, directly he found the Ariel 
 had set sail for Cherbourg, hoping that the happy 
 freedom of the first fortnight would return. 
 
 There were atmospheric clouds, too, about, 
 which threatened to damp their pleasure after an- 
 other fashion, and the party returned to the yacht 
 much sooner than they had intended. 
 
 When Wilfred saw Tiny he felt certain that she 
 had been crying. 
 
 At dinner, however, she seemed in her usual 
 spirits, and lingered on deck as before, when her 
 mother and Madeline retired. 
 
 Sir Anthony and his daughter were talking over 
 some second post letters which had only just been 
 brought on board, and Wilfred took this opportu- 
 nity to ask Tiny suddenly, as he drew her hand 
 within his arm for a walk up and down the deck, 
 what had made her look so unhappy ? 
 
 The question seemed to startle her ; acting on 
 the impulse of the moment, as she generally did, 
 Tiny told Wilfred the whole story about Captain 
 Foy ; confided to him her feelings during the win- 
 
A Reed SJiaken witJi the Wind. 179 
 
 ter spent at Windsor, and her subsequent doubts 
 and disappointment. 
 
 She was so perfectly engrossed with her own 
 thoughts that she was utterly unconscious of the 
 effect of her disclosure upon her cousin. But 
 when Wilfred asked her if Captain Foy had now 
 told her that he loved her, his voice was so unlike 
 his own that Tiny looked up in his face, and the 
 pain she read in it awoke within her a sudden 
 sense of the sorrow she had inflicted upon him. 
 
 *' Oh, Wil," she cried, " I know I have done 
 what is wrong. I ought not to have concealed 
 this from you ; many many times I have longed to 
 tell you, but the words have died on my lips. I 
 could not bear that any one should know about it. 
 And there is nothing to know," she added, pas- 
 sionately, ** for he has never said that he loved 
 
 me." 
 
 ** There is something for me to know, Tiny," he 
 replied, his voice trembling with suppressed emo- 
 tion. ''If you have such a feeling for this man, 
 how can you say you love me ? " 
 
 ** I do love you, Wilfred ; but it is not exactly 
 the same. I never could care for two people in 
 the same way. Don't blame me," she said, cling- 
 ing with both hands round his arm, and look- 
 ing up eagerly into his eyes, '' don't blame me for 
 not having told you. I thought I never should 
 see him any more, and that he would marry Miss 
 Peel. And I have felt so happy in loving you — " 
 
i8o A Reed SJiaken with the Wind. 
 
 She paused as if she had not finished her sen- 
 tence. 
 
 " Until you saw him again," said Wilfred, 
 calmly. 
 
 Tiny burst into tears. 
 
 They were standing on the side of the vessel, 
 looking towards Ryde ; Sir Anthony and his 
 daughter had already gone below, and they had 
 the whole deck to themselves. 
 
 Presently Tiny looked up. 
 
 ''You are not angry with me, Wil, darling? I 
 can't help it ; you see it was before I cared for you. 
 I did not know how weak I was till I saw him 
 again, but it will be all right soon," she added, in 
 a firmer tone. 
 
 " It can't be all right, Tiny, if you feel this now. 
 But, thank God," he exclaimed, with great effort 
 controlling his own feeling, " it has come in time. 
 You are still free. Your mother was right, after 
 all," he added, with a sigh. 
 
 "But you will not leave me, Wil? He has 
 never said he loved me, and I don't believe he 
 does. Don't leave me, Wilfred," she continued 
 vehemently, "now that I feel as if I wanted you 
 more than ever." 
 
 Before Wilfred could reply he became conscious 
 of the presence of a third person. Madeline came 
 with a message from her mother, who considered 
 it unwise for Tiny to stay so late on deck after her 
 indisposition ; and whilst slie waited for her sister, 
 
A Reed Shaken with the Wind. i8i 
 
 Tiny had only just time to whisper, " Don't say a 
 word till I speak to you to-morrow, Wil, darling," 
 and, with the most affectionate look she had given 
 him since the Ariel came into Cowes, she disap- 
 peared down the cabin stairs. 
 
 Wilfred Lane felt bewildered. He had never 
 thought it possible that Tiny would prove faithless 
 to him, nor imagined her capable of such a con- 
 cealment ; nor had he ever doubted that she had 
 given him her first and best affection. It was a 
 new revelation, and one which scattered all his 
 previous belief in Tiny's disposition and character. 
 
 He paced up and down the deck hour after hour, 
 thinking over what he had heard that night ; 
 scarcely able to realize that Tiny had ever cared foi 
 any one but himself. When he recalled her ten- 
 derness to him, and the letters she had written 
 from Rome, it was impossible to believe she had 
 ever loved another. 
 
 Since the day Tiny had worn his mother's ring 
 Wilfred had regarded their union as indissoluble, 
 in spite of Lady Harewood's opposition. Tiny's 
 unexpected confession respecting a love which was 
 not the growth of to-day, but which had existed 
 even before she consented to be his wife, and which 
 it seemed to him she had strangely nourished ever 
 since, absolutely stunned him. 
 
 His thoughts beyond this took no definite shape ; 
 he never attempted to consider how to act with re- 
 gard to their present relative position, or Captain 
 
1 82 A Reed Shaken with the Wind. 
 
 Foy's ultimate intentions towards Tiny. He had 
 to grow familiar with one great fact, which stood 
 out clear at last ; his belief in Tiny's first love was 
 a delusion. She had deceived him, and he had 
 deceived himself. 
 
 He could think no more ; but as he rested his 
 head against his hands, which were clasped round 
 a rope above him, the pain of parting at Folke- 
 stone, and the desolateness of the winter which fol- 
 lowed while Tiny was in Rome, seemed nothing to 
 his present misery. 
 
 Presently he was startled by a hand laid on his 
 shoulder, and, turning round, he saw Sir Anthony, 
 who exclaimed,- "" Why, Lane, whatever are you 
 doing ? It is just five o'clock, and you have never 
 been to roost." 
 
 Wilfred stammered out as an excuse that he had 
 been restless ; that, as he shared Sir Anthony's 
 cabin, he feared to disturb him, and therefore had 
 remained on deck. 
 
 *' My head aches, too," he added, "and I 
 thought the cool air would do me good, but I'll go 
 and turn in now, and perhaps I shall sleep it off." 
 And Wilfred moved away, glad to escape any fur- 
 ther questioning. 
 
CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 ** Alas ! how easily things go wrong, 
 A sigh too much — or a kiss too long — 
 And there comes a shower and a driving rain, 
 And life is never the same again. 
 
 Alas ! how hardly things go right, 
 'Tis hard to watch through the summer night, 
 For the kiss will come, and the sigh will stay, 
 And the summer night is a winter day." 
 
 George Macdonald. 
 
 " People are always talking of perseverance, courage, and forti- 
 tude ; but patience is the finest and worthiest part of fortitude — and 
 the rarest too, ' ' 
 
 John Ruskin. 
 
 At breakfast Wilfred's countenance bore but 
 little trace of the suffering he had gone through 
 during the night. Had any one noticed him par- 
 ticularly, they would have remarked he was more 
 silent than usual ; but as he was never a great 
 talker, his silence was unobserved on this occasion. 
 
 Tiny, however, was in the best of spirits, and 
 surprised everybody by her outbursts of fun and 
 merriment. It seemed impossible that beneath 
 this joyous exterior she could be enduring much 
 
1 84 A Reed Shaken zvith the Wind. 
 
 mental pain, and Wilfred began to think he had 
 exaggerated the matter in his own mind. But 
 then again came the recollection that for all these 
 months Tiny, while professing to treat him with 
 entire frankness, had concealed from him the very 
 fact that she had ever cared for any man except 
 himself, and Wilfred was exceedingly troubled as 
 he thought of this. 
 
 By eleven o'clock the yacht was under weigh, 
 and a smart steady wind bore her on towards Port- 
 land. As far as outward circumstances went, this 
 was one of the pleasantest sails they had yet made, 
 but everything seemed changed to Wilfred. All 
 the joy and brightness he had known during the 
 last few weeks was gone. There was a dull leaden 
 pain in his heart, and a dark though undefined 
 dread overclouded the future which but yesterday 
 seemed charged with happiness. 
 
 The first moment that he was alone with Tiny 
 she slipped her hand in his, and said in her gent- 
 lest voice, " Wilfred, I am so sorry I made you 
 unhappy last night ; I should have told you ages 
 ago, but for this ; and now I have spoken, I dare 
 say you have lost all confidence in me ? " 
 
 " No, Tiny ; but you have surprised me so 
 much that I don't know what to think, except that 
 you must be free, after what you have told me. I 
 don't want to blame you, darling, but you never 
 should have hidden it from me." 
 
 ** I was afraid to tell you, Wilfred, because I 
 
A Reed Shake7i with the Wind. 185 
 
 thought how it would be. You don't love me any 
 longer, I see," and Tiny looked into his eyes with 
 an eager longing gaze. 
 
 ** Yes, Tiny, I do love you — it would seem as 
 easy to root out my heart itself as to root out the 
 love it holds for you. I should not feel the misery 
 I do, in the thought that I have not the power to 
 make you happy, if I did not love you." 
 
 " But you do make me happy," she answered 
 impulsively. VI have been happier and better 
 ever since you loved me, and till this week I never 
 thought that other feeling would come back." 
 
 " Then your feeling for this man has come back 
 to you ? " asked Wilfred, in a tone which betrayed 
 his suffering. 
 
 *' Not exactly come back to me," she answered 
 thoughtfully. " I don't know how it is, but it 
 seems impossible to shake off altogether the re- 
 membrance of that winter at Windsor." 
 
 Tiny's hand with Wilfred's ring on it was in his 
 own as she spoke ; as she finished her sentence, 
 he said quietly, " Let me put this back on my 
 chain. Tiny ; you must indeed be free ; there 
 could be no happiness for either of us in this now. 
 We have made a mistake, but it is not yet too late 
 for you." 
 
 " Oh, Wil ; how can you be so cruel? I wish 
 I had never told you. I do not seem able to 
 make you understand me. It is not that I love 
 Captain Foy; it was only the remembrance of the 
 
1 86 A Reed Shake^i with the Wifid. 
 
 past which upset me while he was here. You 
 know what a strange mind I have, and sometimes 
 I think if I could only tell whether he loved me or 
 not I should feel quite content ; but now I cannot 
 help dwelling on it, and all the little things he used 
 to say. It was very wicked of him," said Tiny, 
 pensively, ** to seem so miserable whenever I would 
 not walk or ride with him, if he did not really care 
 for me. What did he mean by it, Wilfred ? " 
 
 '' How can I tell you. Tiny ? " he answered, be- 
 traying for the first time an impatience it was hard 
 to restrain as his cousin's selfishness became too 
 palpable for even his deep love to remain blind to 
 it any longer ; "I know so little of this man, and 
 love you so much, that I am no judge. I can 
 scarcely even tell what is best for us ; but you 
 must be quite free. Give me back the ring, Tiny ; 
 now I know of your feeling for Captain Foy 1 dare 
 not — will not claim your sweet promise to be my 
 wife." 
 
 "That is just what I feared" — and Tiny grew 
 quite pale and shook with her little piteous sob- 
 bing — " and that is why I never told you before ; 
 it is cruel, Wilfred, of you to forsake me now, just 
 when I want you more than ever." 
 
 " I don't forsake you, child," cried Wilfred ; 
 " God knows I want your happiness before my 
 own ! I love you well enough to wish to see you 
 happy in your own way ; but I never thought that 
 happiness would be apart from mine." 
 
A Reed Shaken with the Wind. 187 
 
 "■ But it is not, Wil ; I never could do without 
 you ; have patience with me," pleaded Tiny. " I 
 don't know what brought up this old feeling, and 
 I was very foolish to tell you of it last night. Oh, 
 Wil, it seems so cruel to think you will love me 
 less now. I will not give you back my ring," she 
 added with a vehemence which startled Wilfred ; 
 " I could not do without you ! " 
 
 Neither of them spoke for a few minutes, until 
 Tiny said in a quiet tone, '' I don't think, Wilfred, 
 men ever do understand women. I thought you 
 would ; but you don't seem in the least to know 
 what I really feel." 
 
 " Tiny, you cannot love me and Captain Foy ; 
 the thing is impossible. One of us must give 
 place to the other." 
 
 " But he has never said he loved me," persisted 
 Tiny. 
 
 " But yon love him," replied Wilfred, as if the 
 very words scorched him. 
 
 ** No, I don't," Tiny answered, as if she had 
 that very moment arrived at that conclusion. " I 
 have a strange interest in him ; whatever happens 
 I shall have that all my life. He was the first to 
 awaken in me any real feeling, and that is what 
 you, as a man, cannot understand. No girl can 
 ever be quite the same again." 
 
 '' You ought to have told me of this before, 
 Tiny, and not have allowed me to believe that 
 my love first called forth yours. And you 
 
1 88 A Reed Shaken with the Wind. 
 
 seemed ready enough to give it when I asked 
 it from you." 
 
 ** If you had come to me as a stranger, Wil, it 
 would have been very different ; but my affec- 
 tion for you as a cousin led me on step by step, 
 until unconsciously you crept into my heart. 
 You came to me as the best and highest influence 
 I ever had in my life. Don't forsake me, Wil ; 
 I think I should grow wicked if you left me now. 
 Why should you not love me all the same ? I 
 am the same as I was yesterday ; the only differ- 
 ence is that you know more of me than you did. 
 It ought to show you," said Tiny, in a pleading 
 voice, and looking up at him with her old passion- 
 ate expression, *'how much I love you and have 
 trusted you." 
 
 Wilfred Lane did not quite see this, but he felt 
 the power of Tiny's fascination. Perhaps she 
 was right, and that he could not enter into a girl's 
 inmost heart. It did not seem, however, as if 
 Captain Foy loved Tiny ; it was more than 
 probable that he had only trifled with her after 
 the fashion of men of his kind. 
 
 And then, too, Tiny evidently depended on him 
 for support ; she had even pleaded for his love ; 
 how could he be so base and cruel as to desert her 
 in such need ? Had everything in his own life 
 been so clear and blameless that he should claim 
 as his lawful due the first undivided affection 
 of this girl, and because he found that another 
 
A Reed Shaken with the Wind. 189 
 
 man had once had power to move her, was it 
 generous of him to say '* I also will give you 
 up " ? It would be quite another thing if Captain 
 Foy had claimed the love he had awakened ; 
 then Wilfred's path would have been very clear ; 
 he must have accepted his own misery at once, 
 and perhaps in time his heart might have ached 
 less when he remembered that each pang it suf- 
 fered secured his darling's happiness. 
 
 To leave her now, was only to make her 
 position more difficult. If Captain Foy really 
 loved her, he would return and say so, for, as he 
 had no idea of Tiny's engagement, — there was 
 nothing to prevent his coming forward. 
 
 But Wilfred could not help thinking Captain 
 Foy never intended to come forward. He there- 
 fore resolved to do as Tiny asked him ; she might 
 keep his ring, but he would consider her free. 
 
 He would do still more. As far as he could 
 compass it, she should have fair play. His love 
 for Tiny was deep enough to enable him to sac- 
 rifice himself. 
 
 After a day at Portland, the Highflyer cruised 
 round the Devonshire coast for a week. The 
 morning after she reached Plymouth, Sir Anthony 
 received a letter from his wife, telling him that she 
 was glad his month's yachting had nearly come to 
 an end, for she had been very sick, and during 
 the last few days had been obliged to call in 
 
190 A Reed Shaken with the Wind. 
 
 the family physician. As Sir Anthony believed 
 that more people "died of the doctor" than 
 " by the visitation of God," this information 
 naturally made him anxious ; so it was settled 
 that Margaret should go to London by train, and 
 rejoin her mother at once, while her father returned 
 with the rest of the party, via Southampton, for 
 which place they set sail the same evening. 
 
 It was naturally a matter of constant pain to 
 Wilfred to see how completely all Tiny's thoughts 
 were taken up in the feeling which she had 
 expended on one who was in his opinion utterly 
 unworthy of them. And sometimes it was almost 
 more than he could bear to listen to her continual 
 perplexities about the meaning of some trivial 
 circumstance, which had been treasured up in 
 her mind as something of great consequence — for, 
 now that the ice was broken. Tiny did not scruple 
 to confide to Wilfred, with a frankness which 
 utterly amazed him, every little incident which 
 happened that winter, including even the secret 
 meetings in the shrubberies, and Captain Foy's 
 parting kiss. 
 
 Few men would have borne this with such 
 perfect self-command ; but Wilfred seldom be- 
 trayed to Tiny the pain she inflicted upon him. 
 His love for her was of too deep and unselfish 
 a nature to admit of his shrinking from any 
 suffering which might give his darling even an 
 instant's relief. 
 
A Reed Shaken with the Wind. 191 
 
 Sometimes Wilfred Lane thought that the very 
 repression of Tiny's past feehng had tended to 
 foster it ; at any rate he hoped that the complete 
 confidence which now existed between them 
 would tend to increase her trust in him. He 
 could not doubt that she had by degrees given 
 him a far stronger affection than mere cousinship 
 warranted, and he earnestly prayed for that day 
 to come when Tiny's little mind would cease 
 to be disquieted at all about this Captain Foy. 
 Her perfect openness with him certainly seemed 
 a rivet in the chain which bound them together, 
 and, resting content with this reflection, Wilfred 
 shut his eyes to any future sorrow he might be 
 heaping up for himself. 
 
CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 '* Places are too much 
 Or else too little, for immortal man ; 
 Too little, when love's May o'ergrows the ground, 
 Too much, when that luxuriant robe of green 
 Is rustling to our ankles in dead leaves. 
 'Tis only good to be or here or there. 
 Because we had a dream on such a stone, 
 Or this or that, — but, once being wholly waked 
 And come back to the stone without the dream. 
 We trip upon't, alas, and hurt ourselves ; 
 Or else it falls on us and grinds us flat. 
 The heaviest gravestone on this burying earth." 
 
 Mrs. Barrett Browning. 
 
 Week after week flew by, but Captain Foy 
 never made his appearance in Grosvenor Crescent. 
 The Harewoods knew he had not returned in the 
 Ariel to Cowes, for they had seen General Hally- 
 burton again, at the Claypoles', who told them 
 that his guest had deserted him at Cherbourg, 
 having met a friend who persuaded him to join in 
 a walking tour through Normandy. 
 
 Lady Claypole had quite recovered from her 
 indisposition, and all the Harewoods and Wilfred 
 Lane were dining at Hyde Park Gardens in order 
 to talk over the ** cruise in the Highflyer," when 
 
A Reed Shaken zvith the Wind. 193 
 
 General Hallyburton happened to look in for a 
 quiet smoke with his friend in " the tavern," and 
 was at once brought upstairs into the drawing- 
 room, as a person immediately concerned with the 
 cruise in question. So he contributed his share 
 to the evening's entertainment, in which was in- 
 cluded much information about Captain Foy. 
 
 But this was soon after their return from the 
 yacht. Since then Tiny had heard from the 
 Howards that Captain Foy was in town and had 
 been there on the previous Sunday. So it became 
 evident that he was least in no hurry to call on the 
 Harewoods. 
 
 Gradually Tiny's mind seemed to settle down ; 
 her speculations respecting Captain Foy's past, 
 present, and future intentions became less frequent, 
 and her anxiety to hear about him perceptibly 
 diminished. Wilfred Lane at last fancied himself 
 in sight of the ** promised land" which he had 
 striven so hard to win, and he really thought the 
 time was not far distant when his darling's un- 
 divided affection would be his own. 
 
 Towards the end of October the Harewoods 
 again left town, and were scattered about the 
 country, visiting different friends. 
 
 One of the last visits Madeline and Tiny 
 intended to pay together was to The Cedars. 
 Mrs. Wroughton's former kindness to Tiny made 
 it quite impossible for her to go on inventing ex- 
 cuses, whenever an invitation to spend a {qw days 
 9 
 
194 A Rccd Shaken ivitJi the Wind. 
 
 at Windsor arrived. Her sisters had already 
 remarked upon former evasions, and Charlotte 
 often called Tiny very ungrateful for not caring to 
 go to her old friends. So, in spite of Tiny's un- 
 willingness, a visit was at last arranged. She and 
 Madeline engaged to spend a week at The Cedars, 
 where Lady Harewood and Charlotte were to join 
 them for a few days, after which they were all to 
 return to London together. 
 
 As the carriage which had been sent to meet 
 them at the Windsor station drove rapidly into the 
 park gates, there was a keen and frosty feeling in 
 the air, which reminded Tiny vividly of the visit 
 she seemed destined never to forget. Her heart 
 beat with a thousand recollections which instantly 
 crowded upon her, and she almost felt as if she 
 could not bear to see the place which was full of 
 such sweetly bitter memories. As she turned her 
 face away from the path which led down to the 
 lake, where she and Captain Foy used to go and 
 feed the lonely black swan who had lost his mate, 
 her eye caught the curling blue smoke of Miss 
 Foy's chimneys, above the trees which concealed 
 her cottage at the further end of the park. Tiny 
 could almost fancy that, if she looked long enough, 
 she should see the figure of Captain Foy treading 
 its way through the clump of trees which led by 
 the shrubbery to the rose garden, which had often 
 served as their trysting-place. 
 
 Several times Madeline spoke to her ; but Tiny 
 
A Reed Shaken with the Wind. 195 
 
 was so wrapped up in her own thoughts that she 
 never even heard her sister, until she took hold of 
 her arm, exclaiming — 
 
 '* Whatever are you thinking of, Tiny? I have 
 spoken twice, and you don't answer me." 
 
 ** I was thinking" — began Tiny, and she paused 
 for a moment, and then continued hastily — " I 
 don't know what I was thinking of; but I know I 
 hate talking in a close carriage, and my head aches 
 so dreadfully that I wish I might go to bed when 
 we get in." 
 
 There was no time for further speech or reflec- 
 tion, for the carriage had already reached the door, 
 and Mrs. Wroughton came out to welcome her 
 guests in the hall — a good old fashion which she 
 never neglected. Five o'clock tea was going on in 
 the library, and the first person Tiny saw, as she 
 entered, was Miss Foy, who had come up early to 
 dine and sleep at The Cedars, for her delicate state 
 of health still obliged her to avoid the night air. 
 
 There were several other people in the room, 
 among them Admiral Merryweather, Colonel and 
 Mrs. Ashburton, and Mr. Philpots, the incumbent 
 of the small church which the Wroughtons 
 attended, when they had no visitors who wished 
 to hear the music at St. George's Chapel, Windsor. 
 
 As Tiny knew nearly all Mrs. Wroughton's 
 county friends, much shaking of hands ensued, and 
 Madeline was introduced to Mr. Philpots. 
 
 A general re-distribution of seats taking place, 
 
196 A Reed Shaken ivith the Wi7td. 
 
 Tiny went over to the sofa on which Miss Foy was 
 sitting, and there installed herself. 
 
 When Miss Foy had discussed the journey the 
 Miss Harewoods had just made, the disagreeables 
 attendant on railway travelling in general, and the 
 excellence of the Windsor line in particular, Tiny 
 turned the conversation upon the weather, hoping, 
 by sundry comparisons between this winter, last 
 winter, and the winter before that, to carry back 
 the listener's mind to the time of her nephew's 
 visit, knowing that when she was reminded of 
 Captain Foy's existence she would be sure to men- 
 tion him. Tiny felt shy about speaking first her- 
 self. Conscious of her own intense longing to hear 
 of him, she did not even dare to make inquiries 
 which would have simply appeared to his aunt 
 natural and polite. 
 
 Her little stratagem had its desired effect. As 
 soon as Miss Foy recalled that peculiarly severe 
 winter, and her consequent confinement to her 
 room, she thought how her good Philip had refused 
 to leave her, and how thankful she then was that 
 The Cedars and its pleasant occupants, including 
 the Harewood family, afforded him an occasional 
 solace, during the days when she was too ill to see 
 him at all. 
 
 '* Speaking of that winter reminds me of Philip," 
 she said; ''you remember him, I think, for you 
 were kind enough to help my friends here to en- 
 tertain the dear fellow. I never shall forget how 
 
A Reed Shaken with the Wind. 197 
 
 good he was," continued the old lady, gratefully. 
 ** Nothing would induce him to leave me till the 
 spring, when his sister returned from abroad, and 
 I am sure it must have been very dull work to stay 
 with a wheezing old aunt like me." 
 
 " I hope you are stronger now," said Tiny, 
 rather hypocritically, for she could not resist wish- 
 ing in her heart that Miss Foy was ill again, and 
 once more enjoying her nephew's solicitude. *' I 
 remember how anxious Captain Foy was about 
 you, but he told us when we met him in the Isle 
 of Wight that you were much better." 
 
 " Yes, thank you, I am really stronger, I believe ; 
 so I tell Philip he has lost his chance of coming 
 into possession of the Wilderness soon enough for 
 it to be of any use to him. Such a small place," 
 she added, smiling, ** will scarcely do for Lady 
 Susan, though it would have suited Philip very 
 well as a bachelor." 
 
 Tiny could not understand this reference to 
 '' Lady Susan." 
 
 Lady Susan who ? she felt inclined to say 
 eagerly ; and she thought it so provoking of peo- 
 ple to talk in such a way. She was quite angry 
 with Miss Foy for supposing that she must be ac- 
 quainted with every circumstance connected with 
 her nephew's future requirements, and her heart, 
 beat so violently that she feared Miss Foy would 
 hear it if she did not speak. Controlling herself 
 with a great effort, she remarked that ** the Wil- 
 
198 A Reed Shaken with the Wind. 
 
 derness was one of the prettiest little places she 
 had ever seen." 
 
 Miss Foy was exceedingly pleased with Tiny's 
 appreciation of her home. 
 
 "I am naturally fond of it," she replied, " for I 
 have watched the growth of every little plant and 
 shrub in the place, which was really a wilderness 
 when I first came to it about fifteen years ago. 
 Philip was then at Eton, and used to come over for 
 his holidays, so now I tell him he had better come 
 here for his honeymoon ; the Wroughtons will be 
 away, and the young couple would have the park 
 all to themselves." 
 
 Tiny's face grew very pale ; she gasped out — 
 '* Is Captain Foy going to be married soon?" 
 She could not command her voice during a longer 
 sentence ; it was evident from Miss Foy's last 
 speech, and previous reference to some unknown 
 Lady Susan, that some marriage was really in 
 contemplation, 
 
 " Well, I think it will be soon after Christmas ; 
 and would you believe it, Philip has the face to 
 complain of waiting so long ? But Lord Fitz- 
 william is immovable, and insists upon having his 
 family about him without any change for another 
 Christmas-day. You see," said Miss Foy, who 
 was always delighted to find any one who would 
 listen to all she was willing to tell respecting 
 the nephew she had so helped to spoil, " Master 
 Phil has such a sad character for the havoc he 
 
A Reed Shaken with the Wind. 199 
 
 makes in the hearts of young ladies, that, I think, 
 the old earl was thoroughly taken by surprise when 
 he found Philip had really succumbed to Lady 
 Susan's charms. You know, my dear," she 
 added, confidentially, in a lower tone, ''soldiers 
 are very naughty people ; they will love and ride 
 away. I began to think I should never live to see 
 Philip settle down into a respectable married man."- 
 
 Tiny made an attempt to say something which 
 would sound like an appropriate congratulation. 
 Fortunately for her, Miss Foy was so engrossed 
 with her own thoughts, that she never noticed the 
 quivering lips of the pale girl beside her, who fal- 
 tered out the ordinary phrase expressive of the 
 ordinary feelings to which people are expected to 
 give utterance on such occasions. Oh ! she 
 thought, if something would put a stop to this 
 conversation, and enable her to slip away unob- 
 served to another room ; she wanted air, she 
 Avanted — anything to stop this rising in her throat, 
 which seemed likely to choke her. And still she 
 yearned to hear all Miss Foy could tell, of the 
 man who had taken such a hold upon her life. 
 
 Thanking Tiny for her kind w^ishes, Miss Foy 
 replied that, on the whole, she thought the mar- 
 riage likely to prove a very satisfactory one, but 
 she added, " I cannot get over my surprise about 
 it, for, until I received Philip's letter on Thursday, 
 announcing the engagement, I had never even 
 heard him mention Lady Susan in more than a 
 
200 A Reed Shaken with the Wind. 
 
 passing way, and did not know he was going 
 down to stay at Coombe Hall." 
 
 At this moment Mr. Philpots took his depart- 
 ure, and the other guests soon followed his 
 example. Mrs. Wroughton then proposed to 
 show the Harewoods their rooms. Miss Foy was 
 already well acquainted with the one assigned to 
 her. It was a small bachelor's room on the 
 ground-floor, which was always placed at her 
 service, to save her the exertion of going up and 
 down stairs. 
 
 As Mrs. Wroughton took the girls away, she 
 noticed Tiny's pale face, and its expression of 
 weariness. Laying her hand on her young guest's 
 arm, she rallied her upon her appearance. 
 
 " You look as if you wanted another winter of 
 Windsor air, indeed you do. You must allow," 
 she continued, turning to Madeline, " that I sent 
 Tiny home looking all the better for her visit, 
 so I think you ought to trust me with her again. 
 Come, Tiny, what do you say ? I am very lonely 
 here in the winter, and it will be quite a charity if 
 you will come and make the house as lively and 
 cheerful as you did before. Oh, how you and 
 Captain Foy used to make us all laugh, and \\o\w 
 very badly you did behave to him. I believe he 
 was desperately in love with you, but you snub- 
 bed him so unmercifully, you sad little coquette, 
 that you reserved him for an earl's daughter," 
 said Mrs. Wroughton, laughing. 
 
A Reed Shaken with the Wind. 201 
 
 Every vestige of color fled from Tiny's cheeks, 
 and her knees knocked together as she rested a 
 moment against the balustrade. 
 
 ** Do you know," said Tiny, trying to account, 
 in some reasonable manner, for her sudden indis- 
 position, '* I think I am very ill ; I ate some Bath 
 buns at the refreshment-room at Slough, and I 
 think they have poisoned me." 
 
 Mrs. Wroughton was greatly concerned at 
 Tiny's paleness, but thought the Bath buns were 
 quite sufficient to explain it ; one would have been 
 enough to make her uncomfortable, and Tiny 
 talked of them in the plural number, as if they had 
 been so many sugar-plums. 
 
 " The little goiirmande has probably made her 
 luncheon on these horrible indigestible cakes," 
 she said to herself as she hurried to her room, in 
 search of sundry globules which, she assured 
 Tiny, would do her all the good in the world, 
 whether she believed in them or not. Mrs. 
 Wroughton was a devout homoeopathist, and was 
 only too eager to seize every opportunity for 
 administering these mysterious little sugar-plums 
 to her friends. 
 
 Tiny took the globules upon condition that she 
 should be left alone with her maid, declaring she 
 felt so exceedingly sick, that Mrs. Wroughton and 
 Madeline must go away directly. 
 
 When INIadeline went back to her sister in half 
 
 an hour, she found that Pearson had already 
 9* 
 
202 A Reed Shaken with the Wind. 
 
 tied a pocket-handkerchief steeped in vinegar and 
 water round Tiny's head, closed the shutters, and 
 put out the Hghts, and but for the faint flickering 
 flame which came from a pecuHarly dull fire, the 
 room would have been in total darkness. Made- 
 line groped her way to the sofa, and, as she did 
 so, she heard Tiny sobbing. 
 
 '' Is your head so bad, Tiny dear ? " she asked, 
 for it was no unusual thing for Tiny to cry if 
 troubled with the slightest physical pain. 
 
 "■ Don't speak to me," she answered; *'it only 
 makes me worse, and I was just going to sleep, 
 and now you have disturbed me ! Do tell Pearson 
 to leave the things," she added impatiently; *' she 
 does nothing but tramp up and down the room, 
 till I am nearly frantic. I am sure she had time 
 enough to unpack our trunks while we were talk- 
 ing downstairs." 
 
 Madeline understood by the sound of her sis- 
 ter's voice that it would be better to leave her 
 quite alone, so, without answering, she followed 
 the offending Pearson, who was disappearing 
 at that moment with a fresh load of silk dresses 
 into the next room ; and, closing the door behind 
 her, said that Miss Tiny must not be disturbed, 
 and the rest of the things must remain as they 
 were at present. 
 
 When Tiny heard the door fairly closed, she 
 gave herself up to the passionate grief she had been 
 forced to repress in the presence of others. It 
 
A Reed Shaken with the Wind. ^ 203 
 
 was so strange and cruel, she thought, that here in 
 this very place, so full of the memories of that 
 Winter, where everything reminded her so vividly 
 of her past liappiness, and in the dreams in which 
 she had Indulged, that she should learn how 
 utterly faLc and heartless Captain Foy was. 
 
 Relieved by the first tears she had dared to 
 shed, Tiny began to reason w4th herself. After 
 all, it was nothing new, except that at Cowes 
 Captain Foy had again encouraged her belief that 
 he cared a great deal for her, but did not consider 
 hi°s prospects sufficiently good to enable him to 
 marry at present. Otherwise, she had long ago 
 given up all hope, ever since she saw that he did 
 not care to call at Grosvenor Crescent, and rumor 
 had connected his name with Miss Peel. 
 
 Before the Roman visit, Tiny had begun to sus- 
 pect the truth as to Captain Foy's real character. 
 Why, then, did she feel such surprise now ? 
 Well, it must be, she supposed, because she had 
 attached too much importance to his attentions 
 on board the yacht, when he appeared once more 
 to yield himself to the pleasure of watching her in- 
 nocent fair cheeks flush with joy at his approach, 
 and noting the little flutterings by which she 
 betrayed her feeling for him, whenever he man- 
 aged to steal her hand and hold it in his own for 
 a few minutes. 
 
 '' Why did he come and stand so close, and look 
 so earnestly into her eyes, if he did not love her ? " 
 
204 A Reed Shaken with the Wind. 
 
 And Tiny gave way to another passionate fit of 
 crying. 
 
 By this time her poor httle head ached in good 
 earnest. 
 
 Before Madehne went down to dinner, she 
 helped Pearson to undress her sister, and they left 
 with the understanding that no one should come 
 in until she rang her bell ; then Pearson was to 
 bring a cup of tea and some buttered toast. 
 
 Tiny very soon sobbed herself to sleep, and did 
 not wake until nearly midnight, long after Made- 
 line had been in her room ; Pearson had already 
 been dismissed for the night, after duly providing 
 the teapot, having substituted bread and butter 
 for the toast as less likely to increase her young 
 mistress' bilious headache, so everything was 
 in readiness against the time when Miss Tiny 
 should awake. 
 
 As soon as Madeline heard her sister's voice, 
 she carried in the little tray prepared for her. 
 Tiny sat up in bed, and after a strong cup of tea 
 and two pieces of bread and butter, began to feel 
 so much better that she wanted to hear the news ; 
 who had been at dinner, what everybody had said, 
 and whether Madeline had talked to Miss Foy ? 
 
 So Madeline amused Tiny for the next half 
 hour with all the gossip of the evening, including 
 Miss Foy's information about " my nephew and 
 Lady Susan," which she did not in the faintest 
 degree connect with Tiny's violent headache. 
 
A Reed Shaken with the Wind. 205 
 
 Finding her sister knew no more than she did 
 about Captain Foy's intended marriage, Tiny 
 wished her good-night, and resolved to go to sleep 
 without thinking any more of anybody. 
 
 Just as a dreamy drowsy sensation was creeping 
 over her, she remembered Wilfred's tenderness 
 and thoughtful love, and prayed that she might be 
 able to give herself up entirely to him, and be 
 made worthy of his generous devotion. 
 
CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 There are loves in man' s life for which time can renew 
 All that time may destroy. 
 
 LuciLE. 
 
 The next morning Tiny looked a little paler 
 than usual, but otherwise she seemed in excellent 
 health and spirits. There were several people 
 staying in the house, and what with the walks be- 
 tween the late breakfast and luncheon, and the 
 riding and driving afterwards, with billiards from 
 five-o'clock tea till the dressing bell rang for din- 
 ner, whist, and the round games which occupied 
 the evening, there was little or no time for thought. 
 Lady Harewood and Charlotte joined the party at 
 the appointed time, and carried off Madeline and 
 Tiny after a few days' visit, in spite of Mrs. 
 Wroughton's endeavors to persuade the latter to 
 remain a little longer at Windsor. 
 
 But Tiny was far too anxious to return to Wil- 
 fred. She was longing to talk to him over the al- 
 tered state of affairs with regard to Captain Foy. 
 
 When Wilfred heard of the intended marriage, 
 it appeared to him natural that this intelligence 
 should rekindle all the old interest in Tiny's breast ; 
 
A Reed Shaken with the Wmd. 207 
 
 and if Captain Foy again engrossed a larger share 
 of their conversation and Tiny's thoughts than 
 Wilfred at all liked, he hoped it was the dying 
 flicker of the lamp before it expired altogether. 
 
 And so it proved. Gradually the subject seemed 
 to pain her less ; she talked more reasonably about 
 it than formerly, and at last one day positively 
 amazed Wilfred by laughing over her episode with 
 Captain Foy. She had long ago burnt one or two 
 little notes which he had contrived to send her 
 when he first knew her, and the only memento 
 she retained was a little horseshoe charm, which 
 she now ceased to wear. One day, in a sudden 
 burst of endearment, which reminded Wilfred of 
 those happy days before the Ariel anchored next 
 the Highflyer at Cowes, Tiny threw her arms 
 round his neck, and declared she would not ex- 
 change him for fifty Captain Foys. 
 
 Wilfred's heart beat tumultuously ; he reaped at 
 last the reward of his long and patient waiting. 
 Taking Tiny in his arms, he held her closely to 
 him, and told her to look up in his face, that he 
 might read in her eyes the same truth her lips had 
 spoken. 
 
 When he saw the passionate expression with 
 which Tiny answered him, 
 
 " They kissed so close they could not vow,' 
 
 And once more holding her at arm's length and 
 gazing into her face as if to make himself sure of 
 
2o8 A Reed SJiakeii with the Wind. 
 
 her love, he hastily disengaged himself and left the 
 room. 
 
 Now that the sorrow was over, Wilfred Lane 
 realized the heavy strain which had been upon him 
 ever since that evening at Ryde when Tiny con- 
 fessed the secret she had previously concealed. 
 For a long time he had watched her and tried to 
 sound the depths of her strange character ; but 
 whenever he thought he had arrived at an under- 
 standing of the different motives which influenced 
 her actions. Tiny would by some curious inconsis- 
 tency scatter his conclusions to the winds. 
 
 One thing only she persistently maintained, 
 namely, that the bond between herself and Wilfred 
 had acquired fresh strength and sanctity from the 
 day on which she confessed to him her attach- 
 ment for Captain Foy ; and she quoted George 
 Ehot in support of her feeling, in these very words : 
 " Every day and night of joy or sorrow is a new 
 ground, a new consecration, for the love that is 
 nourished by memories as well as hopes — the love 
 to which perpetual repetition is not a weariness but 
 a want, and to which a separated joy is the begin- 
 ning of pain." 
 
 When Wilfred had seen how Tiny brooded 
 over every incident connected with Captain Foy, 
 how she recalled his looks and tones, how per- 
 versely this loving little soul would endow his 
 careless speeches witli a meaning and a warmth 
 never acquired from him, he had sometimes feared 
 
A Reed Shaken with the Wind. 209 
 
 that she would never cease to care for him. He 
 knew there were souls thus constituted, thus frail 
 and delicate and tender, and he trembled lest his 
 own true passion should fail to recall Tiny to hap- 
 piness and love. 
 
 But in that last embrace she had seemed to as- 
 sure him that she had lived through her fir^t mis- 
 take without having lost the capacity of loving, 
 and after a few weeks of despair the rebound was 
 so great that it carried his hopes at once to the ut- 
 most point they had ever reached. 
 
 Tiny had really learnt to love him — at last her 
 heart was entirely his own. 
 
 Towards the end of January the Court Circular 
 devoted two columns and a half to the description 
 of the *' marriage in high life of Lady Susan Fitz- 
 william and Captain Philip Foy." The ingenious 
 chronicler of that event dwelt ad nauseam upon 
 the extreme loveliness of the bride, the gallant de- 
 votion of the young and distinguished officer who 
 led her to the hymeneal altar, and the rich and 
 tasteful toilettes of the six noble maidens who offi- 
 ciated as bridemaids. The exquisite and valua- 
 ble cadeaitx which the happy and fortunate newly- 
 married pair received as wedding presents from 
 their numerous and aristocratic acquaintances — 
 one and all — were all duly detailed, and the whole 
 aftair seemed to afford Tiny a great deal of fun, 
 
2IO A Reed Shaken with the Wind. 
 
 until it appeared to Wilfred that she simply re- 
 garded it as so much food for merriment. 
 
 Certainly he could not accuse her of too much 
 feeling now ; and but that he was overjoyed at the 
 change which had lately come over her, he would 
 have wished that her amusement had been in- 
 dulged in a quieter and less demonstrative man- 
 ner. But Tiny had a w^ay of her own about every- 
 thing, and it was useless to expect that she would 
 ever act like other people ; and when Wilfred 
 came to think of it, he never wished to see her 
 like anything but herself ! 
 
 The next few weeks were the happiest in Wil- 
 fred Lane's life. The black cloud which had 
 threatened to ingulf him had disappeared ; his 
 darling seemed to lean entirely on him, and to 
 find life sweet for his sake. On the first of June 
 he promised himself that his felicity would be per- 
 fect. Day after day, when he reached Grosvenor 
 Crescent, he saw Tiny's little face pressed against 
 the library Vv'indow, in order that she might catch 
 the first glimpse of her lover as soon as he came in 
 sight ; and both began to count the days which 
 divided them from that on which Lady Harewood 
 had promised her consent to their marriage. 
 Tiny repeatedly assured Wilfred that her life was 
 bound up in him, and Wilfred certainly had no 
 thought apart from Tiny, and could imagine no 
 future of which she was not the central figure. 
 
CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 " Hopes, what aie they? Beads of morning 
 Strung on slender blades of gi'ass ; 
 Or a spider's web adorning 
 
 In a strait and treacherous pass." 
 
 Wordsworth. 
 
 In the middle of March, Tiny went with Lady 
 Harewood on a few days' visit to General and 
 Lady Isabella Drummond. Her mother insisted 
 on taking Tiny to Bellingham Castle, because she 
 heard that Sir Guy Fairfax would be there ; and 
 she felt the time was drawing near when her favor- 
 ite scheme must be relinquished altogether, unless 
 Sir Guy was aided, both speedily and effectually, 
 in his pursuit of Tiny's hand. 
 
 Tiny left London in happy ignorance of her 
 mother's intentions, which were, however, des- 
 tined to meet with signal disappointment ; for, on 
 reaching the Castle, Lady Harewood discovered 
 Sir Guy was not expected until the very day on 
 which she and Tiny were to take their departure. 
 Her mortification was extreme ; and so was her 
 rage against Lady Isabella, whom she secretly ac- 
 cused of machinations to entrap the wealthy young 
 
212 A Reed Shaken with the Wind. 
 
 baronet " for one of those tall, gawky girls of hers, 
 about whom she made such a ridiculous fuss." 
 
 Tiny and the Miss Drummonds had always been 
 on the best of terms ; indeed, it was very difficult 
 for any one to resist Tiny's coaxing ways, which 
 perfectly bewitched men, and so fascinated the 
 ladies of her acquaintance, that she generally es- 
 caped being judged by the ordinary standard. 
 This was certainly very fortunate for Miss Tiny 
 Harewood, for she was in the habit of saying and 
 doing in one day more daring and unconventional 
 things than most young ladies would venture upon 
 in the whole course of their lives. 
 
 The Drummonds were getting up some private 
 theatricals which were to take place the week after 
 Easter, and to be followed by a dance. Tiny was 
 soon pressed into the service ; and, after much re- 
 flection on the part of Lady Harewood as to the 
 probable result of leaving her, it was arranged 
 that she should stay on at Bellingham Castle after 
 her mother's departure, in order to take her part 
 in the necessary rehearsals. Lady Harewood and 
 her other daughters were to come for the second 
 performance of the play, which was to be given on 
 two consecutive nights. The Drummonds' visit- 
 ing list was so extensive, that no amount of crush- 
 ing v/ould have enabled them on one night to re- 
 ceive all the people they " ought to ask," and the 
 old General was very particular in never allow- 
 ing the miniature theatre to be overcrowded. 
 
A Reed SJiakcn with the Wind. 213 
 
 The play selected was ''The Hunchback ; " and 
 Modus was the part assigned to Reginald Macnagh- 
 ten, Lady Isabella's nephew, a young lieutenant in 
 the Guards. Until Tiny's arrival the Miss Drum- 
 monds could not agree as to who would best acquit 
 herself as Helen; but, with one accord, they fixed 
 upon her, declaring that she would act the part to 
 perfection. Tiny at first scrupled to undertake the 
 representation of this forward young damsel, and 
 hesitated about making the necessary overtures to 
 Mr. Macnaghten in his character of Modus ; but 
 the girls assured her that, as their cousin was as 
 good as engaged to a certain Miss Lucy Scott, 
 there could be no possible objection to her making 
 love to him in the play. So all lingering doubts 
 or objections on Wilfred's account were dismissed. 
 Tiny learnt her part ; the different scenes were re- 
 hearsed ; and the days were spent in preparation 
 for the grand performance which was to crown 
 their labors. 
 
 At first, Mr. Reginald Macnaghten was not over 
 pleased with the idea of Tiny Harewood as Helen. 
 He made this as apparent as he could, with any 
 show of politeness, before the young lady herself, 
 and expressed his disapproval openly to Gertrude 
 and Isabel Drummond : but they fired up so ve- 
 hemently in defence of Tiny's capability of doing 
 full justice to the part assigned her, that young 
 Macnaghten perceived that it was a settled thing, 
 and he must make the best of it. 
 
214 -^ Reed Shaken with the Wind.' 
 
 At the very first rehearsal, however, he was 
 forced to acknowledge the wisdom of his cousins' 
 choice ; and, before long, the curious dominion 
 Tiny exerted over men, which made them go down 
 on their knees at once, became apparent in the 
 young Guardsman's case. His manner in the final 
 love-making scene became a great deal too earnest 
 and life-like, and the whole position enabled him 
 to assume an intimacy with Tiny Harewood which 
 was (to say the least of it) extremely dangerous 
 for both. 
 
 Is it not Thackeray who remarks that it is " fort- 
 unate for men that women, like the beasts of the 
 field, don't know their own power ; they would 
 overcome men entirely if they did " ? Perhaps it 
 was Tiny's accurate measurement of her own at- 
 tractions which made them so peculiarly fatal ! 
 
 A great deal went on before any one noticed the 
 flirtation ; and when the girls first saw how com- 
 pletely e'pris their cousin was, they considered it 
 excellent fun, and a righteous judgment upon that 
 young gentleman for the slighting manner in which 
 he had at first spoken of Tiny. Lady Isabella was 
 the last to remark the state of affairs, but when she 
 did observe it she was not inclined to interfere with 
 either of her guests. Tiny's position with regard 
 to Wilfred Lane was unknown to her ; and she 
 thought it always much wiser, in such matters, to 
 let things take their own course. Besides, Tiny 
 carried on her part of the flirtation in such an ex- 
 
A Reed Shaken with the Wind. 215 
 
 ceedingly open fashion, that Lady Isabella doubted 
 if she had any real feeling for Reginald Macnagh- 
 ten ; and as for him, he was old enough to manage 
 his own affairs. If his attachment for Lucy Scott 
 was of so slight a nature, why, it was better for 
 the poor girl to find it out before marriage than 
 after. 
 
 So Miss Tiny Harewood and the young Guards- 
 man had it all their own way. 
 
 Tiny quickly perceived that Mr. Macnaghten 
 had not in the first instance evinced a due appre- 
 ciation of her charms, so she resolved to bring him 
 into proper subjection ; and it must be confessed 
 she effected this with a rapidity which even aston- 
 ished herself. When Tiny determined to fascinate 
 a man she seldom failed to accomplish it ; and was 
 scarcely likely to do so in the case of one so inex- 
 perienced as her present admirer, whose feeling for 
 Lucy Scott was but the first sentimental affection 
 of a mere boy. 
 
 Tiny was not so heartless as to have any definite 
 intention of bringing pain to the girl, who all this 
 while cherished a belief in an affection which was 
 sensibly diminishing before the bright glances of 
 another. But she was utterly thoughtless. 
 
 ** And evil is wrought by want of thought , 
 
 As well as by want of heart." 
 
 Reginald Macnaghten's indifference during the 
 first days of their acquaintance, had fired her with 
 
2i6 A Reed Shaken zvitJi the Wind. 
 
 the old love of conquest ; and her vanity and love 
 of admiration were insatiable. Now that she al- 
 lowed the old spirit to assert itself, it did so with 
 renewed vigor, and after a few days Tiny seemed 
 to lose all power of controlling it, and was soon in 
 the midst of a flirtation which threatened to exceed 
 even those in which she had indulged the season 
 before she accepted the love of her cousin, and 
 promised to regard herself as his affianced wife. 
 
 Wilfred Lane was not there to influence her ; and 
 as no one at Bellingham Castle interfered, these 
 young people afforded a great deal of amusement 
 to the whole circle of their friends, and were quite 
 undisturbed in the plans they daily made for their 
 mutual entertainment. If Tiny rode, it was looked 
 upon as a settled thing that Reginald w^ould also 
 ride ; and it followed as a natural consequence, 
 that, w^hen the riding part}^ divided into pairs, 
 Reginald and Tiny fell behind and kept at a dis- 
 tance, which w^as by no means as necessary for the 
 convenience of the rest of the party as their own. 
 If Tiny walked, Reginald's horse w^as counter- 
 manded ; and if he did not actually take her in to 
 dinner, somehow or other they always found 
 themselves side by side. 
 
 Sir Guy Fairfax came down at the appointed 
 time, and left in despair. He could never get a 
 word with Tiny " for that confounded puppy Mac- 
 naghten ; " and began to weary of this fruitless 
 pursuit of a girl who seemed utterly indifferent to 
 
A Reed Shaken with the Wind, 217 
 
 attractions readily enough appreciated by most of 
 the young ladies of his acquaintance. 
 
 General Drummond and Wilfred's father had 
 been great friends in early life ; and, as it was no 
 uncommon event for Wilfred to spend a few days 
 at Bellingham Castle, it excited no surprise, when 
 Lady Isabella announced at breakfast one morn- 
 ing, that she had invited him to join the party on 
 the following Saturday. 
 
 Tiny was absolutely delighted when she heard 
 Wilfred was coming ; and not only gave full vent 
 to her feelings in public, but privately indited a 
 note, begging him to remain over the Monday if 
 he could get leave of absence, because Monday 
 was the day for the first dress rehearsal, and she 
 wanted him to be present above everything. 
 
 In the meantime Mr. Macnaghten's feeling for 
 Tiny was fast passing all bounds ; and, whenever 
 they were alone, she had enough to do to laugh 
 away his serious speeches. It taxed her ingenuity 
 not a little, to keep him to the absurd and ridicu- 
 lous style they assumed towards each other in 
 public. Once or twice Reginald had been on the 
 point of declaring his affection for her, but as, in 
 her opinion, this would have spoilt the whole 
 affair. Tiny kept such a firm hand over him, that 
 he feared to risk his position by a premature 
 avowal, conscious that, at present. Tiny would cut 
 the matter short, and thus bring to an end their 
 
 free and pleasant intercourse* 
 10 
 
21 8 A Reed Shake jl with the Wind. 
 
 So he contented himself by giving Tiny to un- 
 derstand, as far as he dared, that he was resolved 
 to wait, in the hope of inducing her some day to 
 return the affection she had inspired malgr(f ltd in 
 his own breast. He even alluded to Lucy Scott, 
 when he found that Tiny was in possession of his 
 little secret, and assured her that no engagement 
 had ever existed between them, and that he should 
 " pitch into his cousins for such an unwarrantable 
 use of Miss Scott's name, at the first possible op- 
 portunity." Mr. Reginald Macnaghten was dis- 
 covering that *' absence makes the heart grow 
 fonder — of somebody else.'' 
 
 It was all very well to assure Tiny Harewood 
 that he had never loved Lucy Scott ; but the 
 young lieutenant was somewhat troubled in his 
 own mind about his conduct. He felt himself in 
 an awkward position ; for Miss Scott and he had 
 exchanged sundry words which he now wished al- 
 together expunged from her memory. He was not 
 engaged to her ; but he knew he had taken as 
 much trouble last summer to secure the confiding 
 heart of that quiet retiring girl, as he was now be- 
 stowing to capture this provoking little butterfly, 
 who seemed to elude him just when he made most 
 sure of winning her ; and who yet continued to 
 draw him on in a manner which so tantalized him, 
 that more than once he was on the point of losing 
 his well-sustained control, and risking his fate by 
 an immediate declaration. 
 
A Reed Shaken with the Wind. 219 
 
 Tiny's interest in the arrival of Mr. Wilfred 
 Lane was by no means pleasing to her present 
 adorer, who never felt less inclined to obey her 
 commands than he did on that Saturday afternoon, 
 when she requested him to gather a fresh sprig of 
 ivy from the wall they were passing, because 
 her cousin liked her to wear it in her hair in pref- 
 erence to all the wreaths which ever came out of 
 Regent Street. 
 
 His displeasure amounted to absolute exaspera- 
 tion when the gentleman in question made his ap- 
 pearance. True to his promise to Lady Hare- 
 wood, Mr. Lane was guarded in society, in order 
 to prevent his real position with his cousin being 
 remarked upon. But the eyes of a jealous lover 
 were too keen to be deceived by a disguise which 
 did well enough for the rest of the world ; and, in 
 spite of all caution, there was a quiet sense of 
 ownership in Wilfred's manner with Tiny, which 
 perfectly infuriated Macnaghten. He thought, 
 too, that Tiny seemed afraid of Lane ; doubtless 
 he exercised some authority over her, for Reginald 
 noticed that she avoided him after Lane's arrival, 
 and for the first time purposely went to the other 
 side of the table at dinner, and transferred all her 
 attentions to this odious cousin. 
 
 Mr. Macnaghten considered himself aggrieved, 
 and not unnaturally hated Wilfred Lane from the 
 bottom of his soul. After the ladies retired, he 
 sat opposite his enemy, cracking nuts, and feehng 
 
220 A Reed Shaken with the Wind. 
 
 there was no injury in the world he would not do 
 him if a benevolent providence ever placed it in 
 his power. Quite unconsciously Wilfred increased 
 the young man's wrath ; noticing Macnaghten's 
 silence, and attributing it to shyness, he tried to 
 draw him into conversation, which Reginald mis- 
 took for malicious condescension, and resented ac- 
 cordingly. 
 
 During the evening Tiny was asked to sing ; 
 Wilfred, being near the piano-forte, opened it for 
 his cousin, and helped her to find her music (which 
 was of course in confusion and in everybody's 
 portfolio instead of her own). Macnaghten 
 watched them ; scowling at Wilfred with a rising 
 anger, which nearly burst all bounds when the lat- 
 ter in his quiet easy manner removed the song be- 
 fore Tiny, and insisted on her singing one selected 
 by himself from the mass of music before them. 
 
 ''The cool impudent beggar!" muttered the 
 disconcerted Macnaghten between his teeth ; 
 ** how she can stand his interference I can't think. 
 If I asked for a particular song, it would be quite 
 enough to make her say it was the very one which 
 did not suit her voice." 
 
 When Tiny finished singing ** Dove sono,'' Reg- 
 inald found every fault he could think of with it, 
 in a way which Wilfred thought exceedingly rude. 
 Tiny was secretly amused ; she knew well enough 
 what was passing in both their minds, and resolv- 
 ed to excite the indignation of her youthful ad- 
 
A Reed Shaken with the Wind. 221 
 
 mirer still more ; so she paid no attention to his 
 remarks, but, turning to Wilfred, asked him to 
 sing her favorite song by Hatton, **To Anthea 
 who may command him anything," the accompani- 
 ment of which she knew by heart ; Wilfred did 
 not understand much about music. He was a 
 little too fond of taking his " own time " to please 
 Tiny ; but then he had a pleasant voice and a per- 
 fect ear, and his enunciation was so clear and dis- 
 tinct that his singing was generally liked. On the 
 present occasion he did full justice to this spirited 
 song ; and when Macnaghten saw the glance he- 
 gave Tiny as he came to the words — 
 
 ** Thou art my life, my soul, my heart, 
 The very eyes of me ; 
 And hast command of every part 
 To live and die for thee " — 
 
 which he sang with intense feeling, Reginald 
 thought he should like ** to pitch the confounded 
 fellow out of the window, and the music-stool after 
 him." 
 
 As the proprieties of the nineteenth century 
 forbade this summary way of proceeding, he was 
 forced to content himself with the observation that 
 he thought* 'the accompaniment extremely loud 
 and noisy ; and the words the most foolish he had 
 ever heard in his life," leaving Mr. Lane wavering 
 between doubts as to the sanity of this young man, 
 and a growing conviction that Mr. Reginald Mac- 
 
222 A Reed Shakejt with the Wind. 
 
 naghten was, without exception, the rudest and 
 most ill-mannered individual in Her Majesty's ser- 
 vice ! 
 
 When the music ceased, whist was proposed, 
 and Wilfred was placed at a table with General 
 Drummond, Mrs. Wilmot (a pretty young widow 
 staying in the house), and Miss Robertson, who 
 was dining there with her father that evening ; not 
 far off was another quartett, composed of Gertrude, 
 Tiny, Captain Reynolds, and Reginald. 
 
 Now that Wilfred was at some little distance, 
 and Tiny resumed her old playful manner, Regi- 
 nald began to thaw ; indeed it would have been a 
 difficult task for a more ill-tempered man than he 
 was to remain sulky under the influence of the fun 
 and merriment Tiny Harewood always introduced 
 at cards — much to the displeasure of graver people, 
 who generally seem to regard whist as a serious 
 game, in which their reputations as well as their 
 purses are at stake, objecting to the utterance of a 
 single unnecessary word during the whole game. 
 Tiny openly avowed that she abhorred such so- 
 lemnity, — she hated whist unless allowed to cheat 
 and talk as much as she pleased ! With or with- 
 out permission Tiny's tongue seldom stopped ; 
 and she certainly neglected no opportunity of look- 
 ing over her neighbor's cards, and proclaiming, 
 for the benefit of the entire party, the trump card 
 she discovered in an opponent's hand. 
 
 It was now Wilfred's turn to look somewhat 
 
A Reed Shaken with the Wind. 223 
 
 eagerly across the room to the table from which 
 all this fun and merriment proceeded ; and it re- 
 quired no small effort on his part to conceal how 
 fearfully his own game bored him. During the 
 last rubber he made a mis-deal ; twice he failed to 
 return his partner's lead ; and once, to Mrs. Wil- 
 mot's great disgust, he nearly trumped her trick. 
 To his relief the third rubber at last came to an 
 end ; and, paying up his losses, Wilfred rose, in 
 order, as he said, to make room for a better 
 player. So Mr. Robertson, encouraged by Mr. 
 Lane's misfortune (yet declaring himself no player 
 at all), ventured to hope Mrs. Wilmot would ac- 
 cept him as Wilfred's substitute, and that he should 
 help her to retrieve her past ill-luck. 
 
 Wilfred Lane strolled to the other table, and 
 stood behind Macnaghten, watching the game. 
 His familiarity with Tiny was extremely distasteful 
 to Wilfred ; and the way in which he addressed her 
 as ** partner" did not at all diminish the dislike 
 which the young man's rudeness had already ex- 
 cited. 
 
 When the ladies left the drawing-rooms, Ger- 
 trude took such firm possession of his cousin that 
 Wilfred saw he had no chance of a word with her 
 unobserved by the company at large ; so he said 
 good-night to them both, his eyes resting with a 
 loving longing expression upon Tiny. Just as 
 they reached the door, Reginald Macnaghten 
 jumped up, and catching hold of Gertrude's arm, 
 
224 ^ Reed Shaken with the Wind. 
 
 to Wilfred's great annoyance left the room with 
 the two girls. 
 
 Some minutes later, when Wilfred crossed the 
 hall with General Drummond on the way to the 
 billiard room, he looked up and saw Tiny and 
 Gertrude still talking on the staircase to this ob- 
 noxious little Guardsman ; and heard him say, as 
 he turned from Tiny — with a gesture and familiar- 
 ity which absolutely enraged him — 
 
 " Her lips shall be in danger 
 "When next she trusts them near me ! " 
 
 Wilfred Lane knew all about the play ; but, in 
 his anger, it did not occur to him that Mr. Mac- 
 naghten's speech was a simple quotation. 
 
 It was, perhaps, well for all parties that only 
 Captain Reynolds joined the billiard players that 
 night, and that Mr. Lane's anger had time to ex- 
 pend itself on the unlimited number of cigars 
 which he smoked before he went to bed. 
 
CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 * * Sundaies the pillars are 
 On which heav'n's palace arched lies ; 
 The other dayes fill up the spare 
 And hollow room with vanities. 
 
 • • • • • 
 
 The Sundaies of man's life, 
 Thredded together on time's string, 
 Make bracelets to adorn the wife 
 Of the eternall glorious King. 
 On Sunday heaven's gate stands ope ; 
 Blessings are plentifull and rife, 
 More plentifull than hope." 
 
 George Herbert, 
 
 Breakfast at Bellingham Castle on Sunday 
 morning was always at nine, instead often o'clock. 
 Lady Isabella Drummond wished her servants to 
 go to church, and this could scarcely be managed 
 unless the rooms were vacated at an earlier hour 
 than usual. So the gong sounded as the clock in 
 the turret struck nine. As it did so, Wilfred 
 Lane opened the door of the gallery which led on 
 to the general staircase from the set of rooms in 
 which his own was situated ; and Tiny did pre- 
 cisely the same at the opposite end. Seeing Wil- 
 10* 
 
226 A Reed Shaken with the Wind. 
 
 fred she ran towards him, exclaiming in her bright 
 and joyous way — 
 
 **The top of the morning to you, Wil, dear. 
 Isn't this a pleasant house ? I am so happy here ; 
 now you have come, it's perfect." 
 
 '' I think you made yourself very comfortable 
 before," replied Wilfred, with a shadow of cold- 
 ness in his tone, for he could not forget last night's 
 episode ; it had rankled in his mind ever since. 
 
 '* Now, Mr. Gravity," said Tiny — linking her- 
 self on his arm with both hands, and looking up 
 into his face, with an expression which set his heart 
 off thumping as quickly as ever — ** you don't wish 
 your little wife to be as sober as a judge before 
 she really takes upon herself the fearful responsi- 
 bility of keeping you in order? Come, Wil," she 
 added in a pleading voice, which touched his heart 
 directly, " I have not been so very light-hearted 
 lately, that you need reproach me because my 
 spirits run away with me now I find myself with 
 girls of my own age." 
 
 The gallery door opened again as Tiny spoke, 
 and Gertrude and Isabel appeared ; as they 
 greeted one another, Wilfred Lane was calling 
 himself hard names, for his want of generosity in 
 having harbored such ill-conditioned thoughts 
 about Tiny ; and, in his genial pleasant manner, 
 he began to make amends for it, by talking to the 
 three girls as they went down the stairs together 
 into the pleasant breakfast room ; which looked 
 
A Reed Shaken with the Winei. 227 
 
 cheerful enough, until young Macnaghten thrust 
 himself into the very seat next Tiny which Wilfred 
 was standing by, and intended to occupy. 
 
 The facetious conversation which ensued an- 
 noyed Wilfred exceedingly. He had seldom seen 
 Tiny in this kind of mood ; and it was so infinitely 
 below the rest of her character, that it grated upon 
 his taste and sense of propriety. Young Mac- 
 naghten's noisy mirth, and the nonsense they 
 talked, seemed but little in accordance with the 
 quiet Sunday morning, which was always a double 
 rest, in the country, to this man who worked half 
 the night, as well as all the day, in London. Wil- 
 fred Lane made it a rule, from which he seldom 
 deviated, to keep one day out of the seven clear 
 from the working atmosphere of the rest ; and as 
 free from care and anxiety as he could make it. 
 Breathless and weary with the labors of the past 
 week, and the full weight of the world's tempta- 
 tions, he had looked forward to this special day, 
 as one from which he should gain fresh strength 
 and hope ; and anything more discordant than 
 this foolish flippant jesting could scarcely be con- 
 ceived. He walked round the table, and took the 
 vacant seat between Gertrude Drummond and 
 Mrs. Wilmot ; very nearly opposite to Tiny and 
 her companion. 
 
 Several times he found himself looking at them 
 with positive amazement ; for their absurdity was 
 unredeemed by any particular wit or originality, 
 
228 A Rccd SJiaken with the Wind. 
 
 and it appeared to Wilfred only fit for the nursery 
 or school-room. 
 
 It was no relief to see that the Drummonds were 
 accustomed to this stvle of behavior : nor was he 
 better pleased when Mrs. Wilmot remarked w^ith 
 a significant nod, ** What a charming cousi.i you 
 have, Mr. Lane, and what a perfect little coquette ! 
 She has quite turned poor Reginald Macnaghten's 
 head ; and I don't think she really means to be 
 merciful to him in the end." 
 
 Wilfred stammered out some answer about Tiny's 
 amazing life and spirits, and her extraordinary 
 powers of attraction ; but he differed from Mrs. 
 Wilmot in calling her a coquette, "■ for any one 
 less conscious of her powers of fascination he never 
 saw ; " a remark which considerably diminished 
 Mrs. Wilmot's respect for his judgment, and some- 
 what jarred against a conviction which was gaining 
 strength in his own mind. 
 
 As the church was at some little distance, the 
 open carriage started from the hall-door at half- 
 past ten ; and those who liked to walk followed 
 rather later, as they could take a short cut through 
 the shrubbery, and across the deer park. 
 
 Tiny was a great walker ; and, a few minutes 
 after the less active members of the party had 
 driven off, she appeared with Gertrude and IMrs. 
 Wilmot. They were at once joined by the gentle- 
 men who had made up their minds to go to 
 church — a resolution which was confined to Wil- 
 
A Reed Shaken with the Wind. 229 
 
 fred, Captain Reynolds, and young Macnaghten, 
 whose attraction was neither the service nor the 
 sermon, but the prospect of a walk with Miss Tiny 
 Harewood. 
 
 The ladies went in single file through the shrub- 
 beries, and, in crossing the park, they were all 
 together, so the conversation was pretty evenly 
 distributed ; and the fresh, pleasant country air 
 gave Wilfred such a sense of enjoyment, that, by 
 the time they reached the quaint little country 
 church, all traces of annoyance had disappeared ; 
 his eyes were resting lovingly upon his cousin, 
 and he was longing for the time when her acknowl- 
 edged position would prevent any man from tak- 
 ing the shadow of a liberty with one who had 
 promised to love and honor him alone. 
 
 The pew belonging to the Castle was reached 
 by outer steps, which led into a comfortable 
 square room, with a huge fireplace at one end, 
 and luxurious arm-chairs all round. It was no 
 wonder that when the General did come to 
 church, he always w^ent fast asleep during the 
 second lesson, and seldom awoke till the sermon 
 was ended ; even Lady Isabella declared that the 
 walls of Bellingham Church were sown with poppy 
 seed, and the curate's voice was *' somnolent and 
 sleep-compelling. " 
 
 Wilfred hated these kind of pews ; they seemed 
 to him to spoil the meaning of the beautiful 
 Church Service, which calls together "rich and 
 
230 A Reed Shaken with the Wind, 
 
 poor, one with another," into the presence of their 
 Maker, as brethren in this world, and heirs 
 together of one blessed home in the world to 
 come. 
 
 He had not the least tendency to ritualism, for 
 he could not endure the introduction of practices 
 which appeared to him to make the heart sad of 
 those whom God had not made sad, and laid bur- 
 dens upon men, grievous to be borne, and in- 
 creased in an unnatural manner the distance be- 
 tween the soul of man and its Maker. 
 
 Perhaps he could scarcely be called a good 
 churchman ; though he belonged to the Church of 
 England, and nothing would have induced him to 
 quit her communion, for he loved her noble Book 
 of Prayer, which is so catholic and so comprehen- 
 sive, and so much in advance of the practice of the 
 Church. 
 
 He liked, too, the open churches and their free 
 seats, where all mingled together without respect 
 of persons ; he cared, too, that the music should 
 be of the best and highest description — such as 
 might really elevate the hearts of those who 
 wished to sing to the honor and glory of God — 
 and it always grated against his sense of the fitness 
 of things, when he heard (as you yet may in too 
 many English country churches) the hymn given 
 out by an illiterate clerk (whose mispronunciation 
 would spoil the best words which were ever writ- 
 ten), and sung by a congregation who neither care 
 
A Reed Shaken with the Wind. 231 
 
 nor know whether they keep to the tune they at- 
 tempt to sing or not. 
 
 The service on the morning in question was 
 very well performed ; the chants and anthem were 
 sung with real feeling and without display ; the 
 prayers were read by a curate, who was devout 
 without being unctuous ; and the hymn — 
 
 ** Nearer, my God, to Thee, 
 Nearer to Thee, 
 E'en though it be a cross 
 
 That raiseth me — ' ' 
 
 which preceded the sermon, was a special favor- 
 ite, and one which often came back to Wilfred in 
 after days, when he remembered the quiet service 
 in this little country church. 
 
 The sermon was preached by a stranger, and 
 addressed particularly to the younger members of 
 the congregation, who were preparing for confir- 
 mation. The preacher warned them that they 
 had in a special sense their choice to make, and 
 that the complexion of their after life depended 
 very much upon the line of conduct they adopted 
 during this period — not because their younger 
 days were likely to be more sinful than those of 
 after life, for each time had its special sins, and 
 perhaps the less prominent sins of later years are 
 even more hateful in the sight of God. 
 
 He implored the young men who were present, 
 to believe that the enemies of their souls were real 
 
232 A Reed Shaken with the Wind. 
 
 and very deadly; that " the world is an enemy, 
 with its temptation to set the affections on things 
 beneath, not on things above ; to have the mind 
 choked up by worldly ambitions — the eyes daz- 
 zled with the sight of the kingdoms of this world 
 and the glory of them — a temptation of which 
 every middle-aged man in that church would con- 
 fess the power, and of which perhaps nearly each 
 had experienced the danger." 
 
 " The flesh," he continued, with increased 
 earnestness, **is a real enemy, and an enemy in 
 the camp ; one, moreover, which will assail us 
 under the most insinuating disguises, and which 
 finds special strength and support in the ardent 
 temperament of young blood. The devil, too, is 
 a real enemy — never believe that the devil is a fic- 
 tion, but regard him as the most awful of facts. 
 Here, then, I say, are real enemies, and who shall 
 overestimate their power ? Young men and 
 women ! These are terrible enemies if any there 
 be ; and that was God's truth in which you were 
 baptized, where you were pledged with the sign 
 of Christ's cross to fight against them. And 
 what I desire to impress upon you is, that you 
 can only fight successfully by ruling yourselves 
 according to the Word of God. Let me beg of 
 you to mark those words, ruling yourselves — im- 
 plying, as I conceive, that constant drill which 
 makes the soldier — constant discipline — constant 
 energy in doing good — not implying a few good 
 
A Reed Shaken with the Wind. 233 
 
 resolutions now and then — not implying mere 
 religious fits ; fits of exercise never yet made a 
 soldier, and fits of religious feelings will never 
 make a soldier of Christ." 
 
 When they came out of church, Wilfred Lane 
 felt but little disposed to talk. Several words in 
 the sermon had come home to him with such 
 power, that he was unable to shake off the 
 thoughts they brought as soon as he crossed the 
 church portal. 
 
 But he was obliged, like Felix, to put them 
 aside for " a more convenient season," and to help 
 the ladies with their sundry wraps and books into 
 the carriage, which was waiting at the farther end 
 of the churchyard — then he joined the walkers. 
 
 Though he took no share in the conversation on 
 the way home, it disturbed and distracted him. 
 
 " Now, that is a nice kind of sermon," said the 
 sprightly little widow; ''I can't bear all those 
 long discourses about * predestination ' and * bap- 
 tismal regeneration.' " 
 
 ** No," said Captain Reynolds; "those are 
 things, as Lord Dundreary would say, *no feller 
 can be expected to understand.' " 
 
 " Well — I liked it, because it was short," said 
 Gertrude; "Mr. Williamson sometimes preaches 
 for an hour, and by the time I come out of church 
 I have forgotten even the text he began with." 
 
 "You would like to have 'sat under' Peter 
 Pindar, perhaps ; " exclaimed Reginald Mac- 
 
234 A Reed Shaken with the Wind. 
 
 naghten — eagerly seizing the opportunity of 
 bringing in a favorite story of his, which he 
 never lost the chance of telling, since he heard it 
 two years before. " Did you ever hear, Miss 
 Harewood, of a sermon preached by that cele- 
 brated divine on the text ' Man is born to trouble 
 as the sparks fly upwards ' ? " 
 
 Tiny said she had not ; so he continued — 
 " Well, if you don't know it, and it isn't long, I 
 must repeat it to you. ' Dearly beloved brethren ; 
 I am going to preach to-day from the verse " Man 
 is born to trouble as the sparks fly upwards," and 
 I shall divide my sermon into three heads : 
 
 '* * I. Man's ingress into the world. 
 
 " ' II. Man's progress through the world. 
 
 *' * III. Man's egress out of the world. 
 
 " ' I. Man's ingress into the world — naked and 
 bare. II. Man's progress through the world — 
 trouble and care. III. Man's egress out of the 
 world — no one knows where ; and if I were to 
 preach for a year I could tell you nothing more — 
 so now — Amen.' " 
 
 Of course, every one laughed when Mr. Mac- 
 naghten concluded, and Peter Pindar's point and 
 brevity were duly appreciated. But, when Mrs. 
 Wilmot proceeded to remark upon the profanity 
 attributed to that departed worthy. Tiny, watch- 
 ing her opportunity, slipped away from the others 
 to join Wilfred, who was walking a little apart 
 from the rest. 
 
A Reed Shaken with the Wind. 235 
 
 Gradually they fell behind, and began to talk 
 of what was uppermost in both their minds. 
 
 Tiny, too, had listened to the sermon, and it 
 had made its impression on her ; for the moment 
 she felt forced to acknowledge that the power of 
 ruling herself was precisely Vv'hat she most needed. 
 She had a wonderful way of analyzing her own 
 character, and of seeing its defects, but there she 
 stopped. Sometimes, indeed, she made a few 
 valiant resolutions, but the first temptation put 
 them all to flight. Changeable in temperament, 
 she often seemed worse and often better than she 
 really was ; but her unsteadiness in the small mat- 
 ters of life, and her want of ballast, undermined 
 her good intentions before she was aware of it. 
 When Tiny Harewood was a few years younger, 
 Wilfred used to say of her that she was like " Mil- 
 ton's Eve, the type of the masculine standard of 
 perfection in women ; a graceful figure, an abund- 
 ance of fine hair, much coy submission, and such 
 a degree of unreasoning wilfulness as shall risk 
 perdition." 
 
 There was only one point to which Tiny re- 
 mained constant — her affection for Wilfred. This, 
 she protested, was based upon the deeper part of 
 her mind ; his love was essential to her. 
 
 At the time of their first separation she had 
 been so long under Wilfred's immediate influence, 
 that she continued to live in the atmosphere of the 
 high and noble thoughts and interests he was 
 
236 A Reed Shaken with the Wmd. 
 
 gradually developing in her. But, on her return 
 to London, the difficulty of her position with Wil- 
 fred, and the want of an elevated tone in her 
 mother's house, added to her own love of per- 
 petual "change," kept fallow a soil which Nature 
 had endowed with her richest gifts. Tiny's good 
 aspirations were at first allowed to rove at large, 
 and finally devoted to vanity and frivolity, until 
 her whole being succumbed to the first temptation 
 which assailed her. In the present instance this 
 met her in the form of a flirtation with a lively 
 young man, over whom she consciously exerted 
 her power in a way which she knew to be un- 
 worthy of her better self, and inconsistent with 
 her position with Wilfred Lane. 
 
 The sermon to-day had aroused her to a fresh 
 sense of this ; and when she came up to her 
 cousin and took his arm, she did so with a firm 
 resolution to alter her manner towards Reginald 
 Macnaghten from that very moment. But she did 
 not feel disposed to own as much as this to Wil- 
 fred, not even when he expressed his annoyance 
 at the foolish bantering tone she allowed Mac- 
 naghten to assume, which was so ill in keeping 
 with the tie existing between them. Tiny felt the 
 justice of his reproof; but her wilful little spirit 
 rebelled against his plain unvarnished condemna- 
 tion of her conduct ; and she resented his express- 
 ing the very thoughts which were passing through 
 her own mind. 
 
A Reed Shaken zvith the Wind. 237 
 
 Wilfred Lane's patience and tenderness over 
 Tiny's waywardness about Captain Foy had been 
 unbounded ; but this was a very different sort 
 of thing, and he gave Tiny to understand he 
 would by no means tolerate it. 
 
CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 " Right thro' his manful breast darted the pang 
 That makes a man, in the sweet face of her 
 Whom he loves most, lonely and miserable." 
 
 Idylls of the King. 
 
 Tiny Hare WOODwas extremely quiet through- 
 out the whole of luncheon. She was either con- 
 vinced by what Wilfred had said, or else, having 
 found the censure already administered exceed- 
 ingly unpalatable, she feared to provoke another. 
 Her conscience told her how little Wilfred knew 
 all that had taken place, and how thoroughly 
 she deserved his condemnation. 
 
 Of course this alteration in Tiny's behavior was 
 not lost on Mr. Macnaghten. Nor was he back- 
 ward in attributing it to the interference of that 
 '* conceited prig of a cousin, who Avas so dull and 
 morose himself that he hated to see other people 
 jolly enough to enjoy themselves." And the 
 young Lieutenant registered a vow that if ever 
 Miss Tiny Harewood became " Mrs. Reginald 
 Macnaghten," as he fondly believed she ultimately 
 would, that '' kill-joy-fellow " should never darken 
 his doors, if he could help it. He glanced 
 
A Reed Shaken with the Wind. 239 
 
 fiercely at Mr. Lane, longing to deliver Tiny out 
 of his clutches. 
 
 It must be confessed that Wilfred did not 
 appear at this moment to advantage at Bellingham 
 Castle. Naturally of an easy and genial temper- 
 ament, his friends were surprised at a taciturn and 
 crude manner most unusual to him. His disap- 
 proval of the intimacy between Tiny and Mr. Mac- 
 naghten was evident to the Drummonds ; but, 
 being ignorant of the real tie between the cousins, 
 they were unable to understand his conduct, and 
 felt inclined to resent it as most unreasonable. 
 
 Never had an exhortation to ''rule himself" 
 come at a more seasonable time to Wilfred ; for 
 he felt very angry with Tiny, exceedingly sore 
 with Reginald Macnaghten, and hurt at the suspi- 
 cions entertained by his friends. 
 
 When Tiny made him miserable on board the 
 yacht, there was a depth and earnestness about 
 the matter which drew out the finer parts of her 
 character and claimed a certain kind of respect. 
 In the present instance, however, Wilfred had 
 a very different sort of feeling, in which respect 
 did not mingle in the least. 
 
 There was something so peculiarly aggressive in 
 Macnaghten's manner towards himself personally, 
 that Wilfred almost lost sight of the fact that 
 the young man was unconsciously injuring him by 
 his attentions to his affianced wife ; and perhaps 
 Wilfred did not care to open his eyes to what 
 
240 A Reed Shaken with the Wind. 
 
 made Tiny's share in the blame so much the 
 heavier. 
 
 Lady Isabella Drummond next came in for a 
 share of his displeasure. He thought her wrong 
 to countenance her nephew's open admiration of a 
 young guest left completely under her protection. 
 The least she could have done would have been 
 to compel Reginald to cease from making a con- 
 spicuous display of his feeling for Tiny : and, 
 as these thoughts passed through his mind, he be- 
 came moody and silent. 
 
 When he had finished blaming the whole party, 
 he began to condemn himself ; for he was fond of 
 the Drummonds, and hated himself for having 
 hard thoughts of the people by whom he was 
 surrounded, and of whose hospitality he was par- 
 taking. 
 
 Finding Tiny surrounded by the girls in the 
 drawing-room after luncheon, he resolved to go 
 for a long walk. He was indisposed for any 
 company but his own, and hoped that exercise 
 might disperse the ill-conditioned state of mind 
 in which he found himself So off he started, 
 unobserved by any one ; thinking of Tiny the 
 whole time, he paid no heed to the direction he 
 took, and walked so far that the first bell had 
 already rung when he returned, and there was 
 scarcely time to dress for dinner. 
 
 Tiny, too, had been revolving matters in her 
 own mind, during the short time she had been 
 
A Reed Shaken with the Wind. 241 
 
 alone. But first of all she had accompanied the 
 old General and his daughters to the stables, 
 where the horses were duly inspected, according 
 to the regular Sunday-afternoon practice, and a 
 piece of sugar administered to each with scrupu- 
 lous impartiality. Then they made the tour of 
 the kitchen gardens and forcing houses ; after 
 which Tiny Harewood retired with Gertrude and 
 heard certain confidences touching Horace Alvan- 
 ley, who had been for some time paying her very 
 marked attention. 
 
 It was wonderful, considering the frank and open 
 manner Tiny possessed, to see how very closely 
 she could keep her own concerns to herself, while 
 she gave people the impression of always saying 
 whatever was passing in her mind. Tiny never 
 allowed a human being to know her one bit more 
 intimately than she thought convenient ; and on 
 this occasion she considered it was better for her 
 friends to know nothing of her engagement to 
 Wilfred Lane. She even allowed Gertrude to re- 
 mark how much more self-engrossed Wilfred ap- 
 peared, and how far less agreeable he was than 
 usual, and still refrained from giving her friend the 
 key to her cousin's conduct. 
 
 At the same time, next to feeling out of conceit 
 with herself, she was really vexed at the unfavora- 
 ble impression Wilfred was making upon every- 
 body ; but she was selfish enough to be still more 
 sore with his plain condemnation of her own con- 
 11 
 
242 A Reed Shaken with the Wmd. 
 
 duct, and not at all disposed to overlook his ab- 
 senting himself the whole afternoon ; this she 
 regarded as a great slight to herself, and exceed- 
 ingly rude to everybody. 
 
 Tiny went down to dinner with a wicked little 
 demon sitting in the coils of her beautiful hair, 
 prompting her to all kinds of extravagance, with 
 plausible reasons attached to each. If she altered 
 her manner to Reginald while Wilfred was in the 
 house, it suggested she would make matters infin- 
 itely worse ; not only would every one accuse her 
 of fearing her cousin, but they would attribute to 
 her conduct a greater degree of blame than she 
 considered it deserved ; or else Wilfred would be 
 placed in the odious position of a marplot. Next 
 the little demon whispered that, by making her- 
 self doubly agreeable, she would not only atone 
 for Wilfred's behavior, but divert attention from 
 him by directing it to herself. 
 
 While the servants were in the room things 
 went on pretty quietly ; but at dessert Tiny as- 
 tonished them all, and yet was so exceedingly 
 original and daring that it was impossible for any 
 one but Wilfred to refrain from laughing. 
 
 After dinner, the gentlemen adjourned to the 
 smoking room ; for, a long Sunday evening, 
 without whist or music, induced them to postpone 
 their entrance into the drawing-room to an unusu- 
 ally late hour. 
 
 Lady Isabella objected to music on a Sunday, 
 
A Reed Shaken with the Wind. 243 
 
 because her mother had done so before her ; and 
 the girls had tried in vain to introduce sacred 
 music by Handel and Mozart, which would not 
 only have relieved the tedium of those evenings, 
 but might have supplied the very spiritual element 
 of which they were so sadly destitute. 
 
 When Wilfred entered the drawing-room, about 
 half-past nine o'clock, he found Tiny and Mr. 
 Macnaghten seated on a sofa, with a large photo- 
 graph book into which they were looking ; or 
 rather, behind which they were talking. 
 
 Tiny looked uncomfortable when she saw the 
 expression of her cousin's face ; and this was im- 
 mediately attributed by Reginald to her imagined 
 fear of Lane, who appeared to him to act the 
 mentor over her in a most unwarrantable manner. 
 
 "You seem very much afraid of Mr. Secretary 
 Lane," said Reginald, while pretending to look 
 at another page ; "for my part I hate fellows who 
 think such a lot of themselves, and interfere with 
 other people's affairs." 
 
 " Indeed, I'm not in the least afraid of him. 
 Wilfred is the best creature in the world," she 
 added ; coming, with a true woman's instinct, to the 
 defence of the man she loved directly any one 
 attacked him. 
 
 This did not mitigate Macnaghten's wrath, and 
 he ventured on another depreciatory remark, which 
 Tiny effectually silenced by rising from her seat 
 and saying she did not care to look at any more 
 
244 ^ Reed Shaken with the Wind. 
 
 photographs. She went to Wilfred, and in a low 
 voice asked him not to look so cross. 
 
 Wilfred was conscious of feeling exceedingly 
 savage. He was indignant with Tiny for raising 
 up, in his own nature, passions he heartily de- 
 spised — and he was rendered still more angry, 
 when, in answer to the reply he made her, Tiny 
 told him that the whole thing arose from his being 
 " so ridiculously jealous and disagreeable to the 
 poor boy, that she was forced to be extra kind 
 and amiable to make up for his want of manners." 
 
 A stronger expression and nearer to an oath 
 than Wilfred Lane was at all in the habit of using, 
 escaped from his lips, as Tiny uttered this mean 
 and ungenerous subterfuge. 
 
 Bound by the peculiar circumstances of his 
 promise to Lady Harewood, he was forced to ac- 
 cept one of the most intolerable positions in which 
 any one can be placed. 
 
 No honorable man could stand quietly by, and 
 see the girl to whom he is pledged suffer another 
 to approach her with attentions which would not 
 be offered her as his wife. The verv concealment 
 of the tie between them only made it more wrong 
 of Tiny to take advantage of such a position. It 
 was for her to check Macnaghten's advances, not 
 to encourage them as if she were free to receive all 
 he might feel disposed to offer. 
 
 The long-suffering that Wilfred had shown in 
 the matter of Captain Foy, only made him less 
 
A Reed SJiakeii ivith the Wind, 245 
 
 inclined to take a lenient view of Tiny's present 
 conduct. She ought to have learnt from her own 
 sorrow something of the pain she had inflicted 
 upon him ; and when her feeling for Captain Foy 
 ceased, and she refused to accept the freedom Wil- 
 fred had pressed upon her, he felt he had a right 
 to expect that this girl — for whose love he had 
 waited so patiently and for whom he had suffered 
 so much — should cleave to him with her whole 
 heart and soul. To find her amusing herself by a 
 flirtation with Reginald Macnaghten thoroughly 
 roused his indignation ; and, for the first time in 
 his life, Wilfred I.ane was not only angry with 
 Tiny, but a shadow of disgust crept into the feeling 
 with which he had hitherto regarded her. As he 
 stood, apparently turning over the leaves of a 
 book which lay on the table beside him, his whole 
 soul was in a tumult — 
 
 *' For, to be wroth with one we love, 
 Doth work like madness on the brain." 
 
CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 "People who love downy peaches are not apt to think of the 
 stone, and sometimes jar their teeth terribly against it. 
 
 George Eliot. 
 
 When Tiny came down to breakfast the next 
 morning she found to her amazement that Wilfred 
 had already left for London. 
 
 Late on the previous night, while smoking with 
 General Drummond, he suddenly remembered 
 some important papers which required to be de- 
 spatched without delay. Never suspecting Wil- 
 fred's real motive, the General proposed to send a 
 telegram ; but on Wilfred's assurance that no one 
 could find the despatches but himself, it was ar- 
 ranged that the dog-cart should be ready at eight 
 o'clock, in time to catch the morning express at 
 Farnham. 
 
 So, while Tiny slept, Wilfred was taking his sol- 
 itary breakfast ; and the noise which awoke her, 
 and for which she could not account, was made by 
 the wheels of the dog-cart which carried him rap- 
 idly away over the fresh gravel-path under her 
 bedroom window. 
 
 Wilfred Lane had passed a restless night. He 
 
A Rccd Shaken with the Wind. 247 
 
 could not shut his eyes to the impropriety of Tiny's 
 manner. It was a new development, for which he 
 was totally unprepared. In the midst of what he 
 had suffered about Captain Foy, he had been sus- 
 tained by the belief, that when once Tiny re- 
 covered from her glamour all her affections would 
 return to himself. He knew that she could neither 
 mistake nor doubt his entire devotion to her. 
 This pure and true love had utterly effaced the 
 fevered and troubled passion of his youth, and 
 Wilfred had not a thought apart from Tiny. 
 
 Her love was his very life. She had entwined 
 herself so completely around his whole being, that 
 the world was to him Tiny — and Tiny was the world. 
 
 He realized that their position was a difficult 
 one ; a secret understanding must always be such ; 
 and fearing that his presence hampered her, he re- 
 solved to leave the Castle without seeing her. 
 One thing was obvious ; it was high time Tiny 
 should abstain of her own free will from actions 
 which the commonest sense of right and wrong 
 condemned. If she could flirt with the first man 
 into whose society she was intimately thrown after 
 her feeling for Foy subsided, Wilfred felt the love 
 she professed to give him unworthy of his accept- 
 ance. His holding her to their mutual promise 
 would only sooner or later bring about a calamity 
 to both. At present there was time for Tiny ; no 
 one knew of the tie between them. 
 
 When General Drummond told Miss Tiny Hare- 
 
248 A Reed Shake7t with the Wind. 
 
 wood, as she sat down to breakfast, of Wilfred's 
 departure, tlrat young lady was, for one moment, 
 disconcerted ; but, seeing Mr. Macnaghten's eyes 
 fixed upon her, with a presence of mind worthy of 
 a better cause she carelessly observed that her 
 cousin had told her on their way from church that 
 he feared he should be forced to leave early the 
 next morning. 
 
 Lady Isabella was just about to say she under- 
 stood that Wilfred had only remembered these 
 papers late on the preceding night, when some- 
 thing inTiny's face arrested the words on her lips ; 
 and, as Gertrude at that moment began to discuss 
 a letter just received from Dublin, the conversa- 
 tion was fortunately turned into another channel. 
 
 As soon as Tiny got back to her own room, this 
 strange little damsel gave vent to her disappoint- 
 ment ; and, after crying for a good half hour, 
 opened her writing-case, and, taking out a sheet 
 of foreign letter paper, wrote as follows : 
 
 " Oh ! Wil, I am so thoroughly ashamed of 
 myself; do forgive me this once for making you 
 angry, and I will never do so again. I am utterly 
 miserable, and I think you have punished me very 
 cruelly by going away without saying one word to 
 me. I don't know how this state of things came 
 about, and I look upon the whole affair as so curi- 
 ous that I don't understand myself in the least. I 
 frankly confess that I have given way to my old 
 
A Reed Shaken with the Wind. 249 
 
 wicked spirit, and I know your confidence in me 
 is completely shaken. 
 
 " But is it not better, Wil, for you to know 
 me as I really am ? You cannot help and 
 guide me, if you do not. I think one of your 
 highest points is your entire belief in those you 
 love ; but you never can be sufficient or good 
 for a person, if you are blind to their faults. And 
 the sort of life I am leading, away from you, is so 
 bad for my disposition, that you ought to pity, 
 rather than to blame me. You will find that I 
 shall be quite different after June ; and you don't 
 know how intensely I long for the time when we 
 shall be always together. Have patience till then, 
 with this little girl you have made so miserable to- 
 day. I would rather you should write me vol- 
 umes of scoldings, than have thoughts of which 
 you will not tell me. Believe me, Wil, as you 
 love me, the hope of our future life together is the 
 most precious thing in the world to me, for I feel 
 my life fast clinging round yours. It would in- 
 deed be a terrible wrench to break it asunder now. 
 So don't punish me any more for what has really 
 been a foolish piece of nonsense, of which I am 
 heartily ashamed. I don't know how it all came 
 about ; I suppose it was through this odious play, 
 which I now hate and detest. Shall I throw it 
 up ? Write by return of post ; for if you don't 
 like me to act, I will give up my part at once. 
 
 Oh, Wil, I am so wretched ! I think I scarcely 
 11* 
 
250 A Reed Shaken with the Wind. 
 
 deserved such a severe punishment after all. I 
 shall not have a moment's peace till I hear you 
 have really forgiven 
 
 ** Your penitent little 
 
 *'TiNY." 
 
 What could Wilfred say when he received this 
 letter ? Poor infatuated fellow ! He began to 
 agree with Tiny, and to think he need not have 
 left the Castle so hastily. The foolish nonsense 
 between Tiny and Macnaghten had by no means 
 deserved such a severe measure. After all, it was 
 that noisy young man who was really to blame — 
 it was his conduct which had drawn every one's at- 
 tention to Tiny ; and Wilfred, instead of letting 
 his wrath fall on the right object, had deprived 
 himself of the day in the country to which he had 
 looked forward with such pleasure, and made his 
 poor little Tiny wretched as well. 
 
 He was clearly a stupid blundering idiot, and 
 unable to fathom the mysterious depths of a 
 woman's delicate nature ! 
 
 He sat down and wrote to Tiny, and begged her 
 not to give up the play. He confessed he had 
 left, because his private relationship with her 
 made it impossible for him either to witness or 
 prevent the attentions another man chose to pay 
 her. He thought she had been wrong to allow 
 Macnaghten to assume such a footing with her ; 
 but he could not doubt her real fidelity to himself 
 
A Reed Shaken with the Wind. 251 
 
 after the letter he had just received. *' At the 
 same time," he added, "it seems to me, Tiny, 
 that, lacking as we do the public acknowledgments 
 and safeguards which such ties as ours generally 
 receive in the world, we are doubly bound to 
 cherish our private position, and to remember the 
 duties wc owe to each other." 
 
 Before Tiny received this answer, she was evi 
 dently anxious and depressed ; and discomfited 
 the young Guardsman not a little by the snubs she 
 administered whenever he attempted to resume the 
 old familiarities she had allowed before her cousin's 
 visit. Once assured of Wilfred's forgiveness, Tiny 
 soon recovered her spirits, and, with them, her 
 dislike of appearing disagreeable to any one ; and, 
 as it was obviously disagreeable to Mr. Reginald 
 Macnaghten to be checked in his advances. Tiny 
 soon permitted them as freely as before. 
 
 The play went off gloriously ; and on the after- 
 noon of the second performance Lady Harewood 
 and her two daughters arrived. 
 
 Tiny acted her part to perfection, for, in truth, 
 the character of Helen in Sheridan Knowles' 
 *' Hunchback " exactly suited her. 
 
 Her sisters, who were in total ignorance of the 
 flirtation with Reginald Macnaghten, noticed the 
 peculiar look exchanged between them on the 
 stage, when the latter, as Modus y exclaims : 
 
 ** Your hand upon it ! " 
 
252 A Reed Shaken with the Wind. 
 
 And Tiny answers : 
 
 ** Hand and heart. 
 Hie to thy dressing-room, and I'll to mine. 
 Attire thee for the altar — so will I, 
 Whoe'er may claim me, thou'rt the man shall have me." 
 
 Encouraged by that glance, and Tiny's excited 
 manner, Reginald induced her, later in the even- 
 ing, to throw an opera cloak over her shoulders, 
 and to come on to the terrace, away from the 
 crowded and heated rooms. 
 
 The night was cold and clear, for the moon was 
 at the full, and every little blade of grass could be 
 seen as plainly as at noonday. They walked 
 slowly to the end of the terrace, and then Regi- 
 nald insisted on sitting down for one moment in 
 the summer-house, which commanded a fine view 
 of the exquisite landscape before them. Every- 
 thing looked so lovely and mysterious in the 
 moonlight, that Tiny's senses were quite be- 
 witched. 
 
 There was something in Reginald's manner 
 which told her that it was impossible to escape the 
 inevitable explanation. '* Under all the circum- 
 stances," thought Tiny, '* would it not be better 
 to have it over at once ? " 
 
 She had not long to wait before he told her how 
 he loved her, and entreated her to be his wife ; and 
 without waiting for any answer, the impetuous 
 young man put his arms round her and kissed her 
 passionately. 
 
A Reed Shaken with the Wind. 253 
 
 '' Stay, Mr. Macnaghten," cried Tiny, disengag- 
 ing herself as best she could ; "you have quite 
 mistaken me. I thought you understood me bet- 
 ter than to do this. I have often said enough to 
 make you know that we could never be anything 
 but friends ; and if you do not control yourself, I 
 shall feel very angry. It is unmanly of you," she 
 continued, hastily springing up from her seat, and 
 getting out of the summer-house on to the terrace, 
 where the moonlight seemed to offer her some 
 protection, ** to abuse my confidence by such con- 
 duct. I feel very angry with you, indeed I do." 
 
 If Tiny had said *' very frightened of you " it 
 would have better expressed her meaning, for 
 Reginald's violence had positively alarmed her. 
 
 He had felt so sure of a different answer, and 
 was so excited by the acting and various glasses 
 of champagne imbibed between the scenes, that 
 Tiny's rebuff fairly staggered him. The way in 
 which she had acted the part of Helen was so real 
 and lifelike, that he had allowed himself to be car- 
 ried away by the notion that, if an engagement 
 existed (of which he had some dim surmise) be- 
 tween herself and that grave cousin. Tiny was 
 ready to throw it over for his sake, and meant him 
 to understand this, when she exclaimed with so 
 much significance — 
 
 " Whoe'er may claim me, thou'rt the man shall have me." 
 
 Stammering out an apology, Reginald declared 
 
254 ^ Reed Shaken with the Wind. 
 
 he was so excited, he was more Hke a madman 
 than anything else that night. 
 
 "Well then," said Tiny, feeling more secure 
 as they neared the little side door, through which 
 they had made their exit from the ball-room, " let 
 us consider that your temporary fit of insanity is 
 over, and do not let this subject ever be resumed." 
 
 He was on the point of speaking, when Tiny 
 stopped him by saying, in a gentler voice, '' I am 
 sorry to pain you. You cannot think how it hurts 
 me ; " for she saw the young man was growing 
 deadly pale. *' It has been a great mistake. I 
 am already engaged to my cousin, but you must 
 not speak of it." 
 
 Reginald Macnaghten was silent. Tiny's words 
 and manner told him he had nothing to hope, and 
 he was struggling with his disappointment, which 
 Avas real ; for he had learnt to love this girl who 
 had only trifled with him. 
 
 ** Come, Reginald," said Tiny, calling him for 
 the first time by his Christian name, ^^ give me your 
 hand on it, and let us be friends. I like you very 
 much," she said, holding out her hand, ** and 
 should care to have you for a friend." 
 
 He kissed it, for he could not speak ; but, in- 
 stead of following her into the house, allowed her 
 to pass in alone, and without another word, walked 
 rapidly from the terrace into the dark shrubbery 
 beyond. 
 
 That night Reginald Macnaghten never reap- 
 
A Reed Shaken with the Wind. 255 
 
 peared in the ball-room ; some hours later he was 
 found in his room ; having retired, he said, with a 
 violent headache. 
 
 Now that Tiny realized what she had done, she 
 was sorry for it ; but, unfortunately, her repent- 
 ance came too late ; and, in this instance, was ac- 
 companied by so many fears on her own account, 
 that she had enough to do to think of how she 
 should get out of this business with the least blame 
 to herself. 
 
 It was a great relief to think that she was going 
 away the next morning, or rather that very day ; 
 for the sun had risen long before her sisters left her 
 in undisturbed possession of her room, and with 
 thoughts which were anything but calm and pleas- 
 ant. 
 
 " At any rate," said Tiny to herself, '' it was fort- 
 unate that Wilfred could not get leave of absence ; 
 and yet, perhaps, if he had come down to the play, 
 this last catastrophe might have been avoided." 
 
 She felt she should never dare confess all to him, 
 for she knew she had acted foolishly in going out 
 on the terrace ; her own sense told her that, in 
 doing so, she provoked the declaration which fol- 
 lowed ; and when she recalled the pained expres- 
 sion of Reginald's face as she last saw it, before he 
 strode away into the shrubbery to conceal his emo- 
 tion, a genuine regret came over her, and a sense 
 of shame for having indulged her vanity at his ex- 
 pense. 
 
256 A Reed Shaken with the Wind. 
 
 But Tiny hated to think of what pained her, and 
 consoled herself with a sweeping condemnation of 
 her mother, for forcing her to conceal her position 
 with Wilfred — of Wilfred, for not being present to 
 take care of her — and of Reginald Macnaghten, for 
 not restraining his feelings — and then she fell into 
 a peaceful sleep, as if nothing whatever had hap- 
 pened, and she had never given a human being a 
 moment's disquietude 
 
CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 ** O purblind race of miserable men, 
 How many among us at this very hour 
 Do forge a life-long trouble for ourselves, 
 By taking true for false, and false for true." 
 
 Idylls of the King. 
 
 For the next io-w weeks Tiny astonished every- 
 body by her eagerness to go to all the balls and 
 parties for which the Harewoods received cards. 
 
 When alone with Wilfred she was constrained 
 and nervous. She had not told him about Regi- 
 nald Macnaghten's proposal, and was in constant 
 dread of his hearing more about her conduct at 
 Bellingham Castle than he knew already. If that 
 displeased him, Tiny wondered what he would say 
 if he knew all which had taken place since she 
 wrote that penitent letter. The whole thing 
 made her so restless and unhappy, that she craved 
 for fresh excitement, and was never satisfied with- 
 out it. 
 
 Nor was Wilfred happy. He could not disen- 
 gage his affections from this enticing little piece of 
 naughtiness, and yet his illusion was gone — gone 
 far more completely than he thought it even that 
 
258 A Reed Shaken with the Wind. 
 
 miserable night when he paced up and down the 
 deck of the yacht at Ryde, and for the first time 
 learned that Tiny loved another when she pro- 
 mised to be his wife. 
 
 And so these two, who, a few weeks before, 
 had seemed so bound up in each other that noth- 
 ing could sever them, began to grow wider and 
 wider apart, until they were once more united by 
 a common sorrow. 
 
 During this time, Wilfred Lane devoted himself 
 more than ever to his work. His daily visit to 
 Grosvenor Crescent was no longer expected as a 
 matter of course. If he came, he found the draw- 
 ing-room so full that he had no chance of a quiet 
 talk with Tiny ; if he dined there, she often left 
 before dessert to prepare for some ball, to which 
 she had promised to accompany Lady Harewood ; 
 and their quiet Sunday afternoons were now con- 
 stantly broken into by interruptions which Wilfred 
 knew well enough Tiny would have evaded in ear- 
 lier days. 
 
 Still, he clung obstinately to the belief that all 
 this sprang from the unnatural state of things to 
 which Lady Harewood forced their submission. 
 He thought that Tiny's restless love of excitement 
 would subside, and the happiness she had ex- 
 pressed in her old letters from Rome would be 
 hers, when she was settled in a quiet little home of 
 her own, for which he so impatiently sighed. 
 Tiny, too, often spoke of her happiness as certain, 
 
A Reed Shake^i with the Wind. 259 
 
 when removed from an atmosphere which, she as- 
 sured Wilfred, she loathed and detested. 
 
 Such was the state of things on the 31st of May, 
 between these two who had once thought it im- 
 possible to wait till then for the marriage which 
 was to make them as publicly one, as their hearts 
 long since had made them. 
 
 Wilfred was on his way to speak to Lady Hare- 
 wood that evening, when he met one of his aunt's 
 servants, who gave him a note from Tiny, beg- 
 ging him by no means to come to the house, be- 
 cause Madeline, who had been very poorly for the 
 last few days, had scarlet fever, and the whole 
 household was in confusion. 
 
 He had no fears for himself, having had the 
 scarlet fever at Harrow ; but, knowing he might 
 convey the infection to others, he felt he must re- 
 frain from going to Tiny ; for what would Lady 
 Slade say, if she heard that Mr. Lane attended 
 the War Office as usual, after visiting Grosvenor 
 Crescent under present circumstances ? With an 
 expression which did not sound like a blessing on 
 the rising generation of little Slades, he retraced 
 his steps in the direction of his own chambers. 
 
 During the next few days constant notes passed 
 between them, for Wilfred was not only anxious 
 about Madeline, but in hourly dread lest Tiny 
 should take the fever. 
 
 At first the accounts were favorable ; but, by 
 the end of the week, bad symptoms appeared ; 
 
26o A Reed Shaken with the Wind. 
 
 and the doctors warned them all to prepare for the 
 worst. After a night of great suspense, Wilfred 
 received a line from Tiny, to say that poor Mad- 
 eline had sunk from exhaustion at four o'clock that 
 bright June morning ; and Lady Harewood was 
 so much alarmed lest any fresh case should break 
 out, that she had resolved to leave the infected 
 house that very day, and had actually despatched 
 Watson to engage rooms at Walmer, as the quiet- 
 est place they could think of in their distress. 
 
 Poor Tiny's letter was blotted all over with 
 tears, for she was heart-broken at the sudden loss 
 of her favorite sister, and horrified at the idea of 
 leaving the house as soon as ever Madeline ceased 
 to breathe. 
 
 Of course, Wilfred was thankful to hear of this 
 plan, as it was evident the fever was of a malignant 
 kind ; but he felt very deeply the death of a cousin 
 with whom so many early associations were con- 
 nected. 
 
 How differently this first week in June passed to 
 what any of them had expected ! 
 
 Every day brought Wilfred a letter from Wal- 
 mer, which he eagerly opened, fearing it might 
 contain news of further illness ; but the cruel fever 
 had done its work : gradually all alarm subsided ; 
 and, at the end of three weeks. Sir Thomas Slade 
 (unknown to his wife) told Mr. Lane he might 
 safely run down and see poor Lady Harewood and 
 his cousins. 
 
A Reed Shaken with the Wind. 261 
 
 On the following Saturday afternoon, Wilfred 
 astonished his aunt and cousins by walking into 
 the small house they occupied, facing the sea. 
 
 When Tiny saw him her grief burst out afresh, 
 for they had not met since Madeline's death ; and 
 directly they were alone, she hid her face on his 
 shoulder, and, refusing to be comforted, wept as if 
 her very heart would break. 
 
 After dinner they walked together on the beach ; 
 but although they both shrank from speaking of 
 their hope of future happiness, in the presence of 
 this new sorrow, they seemed to be nearer to each 
 other ; nearer than they had been for many 
 weeks. 
 
 The next morning Wilfred took Tiny across the 
 fields to the church at Upper Deal. On their re- 
 turn, Lady Harewood consulted them about a 
 very kind letter she had received from Lady 
 Lothian, inviting them all to her place in Scot- 
 land. A few years before. Lady Lothian had lost 
 her own daughter in scarlet fever ; and she begged 
 the Harewoods to come to her as soon as they felt 
 inclined, promising that no one should intrude on 
 them, for she knew how to sympathize with their 
 deep sorrow. 
 
 Wilfred had never seen Lady Lothian, as the 
 Harewoods had made her acquaintance in Rom.e ; 
 but he was much pleased with her letter, and, 
 when they talked it over, he advised her offer 
 should be accepted. It was accordingly settled 
 
262 A Reed Shaken with the Wind. 
 
 that they should propose to be with her the second 
 week in July ; and as it was considered more pru- 
 dent to avoid Grosvenor Crescent altogether, 
 Wilfred was to engage rooms at the Euston 
 Square Hotel, to enable them to rest one night in 
 London, and to take the day mail to Edinburgh. 
 
 Tiny wrote every day, whilst she was at the 
 sea-side — letters full of the old love — and again 
 told Wilfred how she longed for the time which 
 would put an end to a separation which became 
 more and more wearisome. 
 
 On the fourteenth of July the Harewoods left 
 Walmer for the Euston Square Hotel, where Wil- 
 fred was waiting to receive them. 
 
 He took the first possible opportunity of telling 
 Lady Harewood that, although this sorrow had 
 prevented their claiming her promise on the first 
 of June, they trusted she would consent to their' 
 marriage during the autumn, and added he was 
 about to see a cottage at Chislehurst, to which 
 Tiny had taken a fancy. 
 
 Lady Harewood seemed considerably softened 
 by her recent grief, and said she had been expect- 
 ing this communication, and would talk to Tiny 
 when they were at Lady Lothian's ; she also re- 
 quested him to write fully about ways and means 
 after his visit to Chislehurst. Then she wished 
 him good-by, rather more cordially than usual, 
 and retired with Charlotte in order to give Wilfred 
 a quiet half hour with Tiny. 
 
A Reed SJiakeri with the Wind. 263 
 
 Before they parted that night, Tiny unburdened 
 her heart, and confessed the extent of Reginald 
 Macnaghten's influence over her. She spoke, too, 
 again of Captain Foy ; of her unrest and craving 
 for excitement ; and then assured Wilfred of her 
 perfect love for himself, and her happiness in look- 
 ing forward to the day which should unite them 
 forever. 
 
 Still, as Wilfred Lane walked home, he deter- 
 mined to give her the chance of once more recon- 
 sidering the whole matter, but resolved to wait 
 until she had settled down at Dunoon. In the 
 meantime he went to Chislehurst, and made every 
 inquiry, as if the result were certain to be in ac- 
 cordance with his wishes. Tiny soon sent him 
 news of their arrival in Edinburgh, and their sub- 
 sequent welcome from Lady Lothian at her lovely 
 place on the banks of the Loch Lomond. 
 
CHAPTER XXXIi:. 
 
 ** His grand excellence was this, that he was genuine." 
 
 Thomas Carlyle. 
 
 When Tiny had been about ten days in Scot- 
 land she received the following letter : 
 
 " My Own Darling Tiny, 
 
 ** I have been thinking so much of all you 
 told me the night before you left London, that I 
 feel I ought to ask you to reconsider your position 
 with regard to me. This separation has been 
 brought about in such a strange and mysterious 
 manner, that it almost seems as if it had been sent 
 on purpose to enable you once more to deliberate 
 before your final decision. So now, Tiny, be- 
 lieve me, when I say I honestly want you to con- 
 sider yourself unfettered by any previous promise ; 
 as having, in fact, your choice to make. Do not 
 suppose, my beloved, that I write thus because I 
 love you less, or am a shade less eager for our mar- 
 riage ; on the contrary, Tiny, I seem every day to 
 love and need you more ; but I love you so infin- 
 itely more than I do my own happiness, that I can 
 surrender it to yours. Do not fear to trust me. 
 
A Reed SJiakcji ivitJi the Wind. 265 
 
 If there is any doubt on your mind ; if you have 
 the shadow of a suspicion that Hfe with me will 
 not give you all }'ou can imagine possible under 
 such circumstances, I think you are bound to 
 hesitate, even now, at the eleventh hour, in spite of 
 any present suffering and humiliation to me. You 
 see, my darling, one point has been made clear 
 to you this year, and your doubts and difficulties 
 respecting Captain Foy are forever set at rest. 
 This gives you a far better opportunity of deciding 
 your own future, than could be the case while 
 your little mind was harassed by all these cruel 
 perplexities which tormented it so long. But, 
 Tin)', I sometimes tremble lest you should have 
 mistaken your feeling for me, because I was able 
 in the first instance unconsciously to help you to 
 bear your sorrow, and, after you confided in me. 
 to sympathize with every little difficulty and pain 
 it brought you. Therefore, I want you once 
 more to consider the whole matter. Do not, for 
 any fear of bringing trouble upon me, hesitate to 
 do what is best for your own happiness. Remem- 
 ber, my darling, you would bring a far greater 
 misery upon me in the end, if I found, a few weeks 
 after our marriage, that it did not yield you all the 
 joy you expected. Tiny, the thought that I could 
 never help you, never release you from such a 
 bondage, would be intolerable to me. For both 
 our sakes I implore you to make no mistake 
 
 about your love for me. 
 12 
 
266 A Reed Shaken with the Wind. 
 
 " Let me speak plainly to you, which I can do 
 much more calmly than when present with you. 
 
 " It is not that I love you less, or that I can — 
 even while I tell you to choose afresh — think of 
 parting with you without a thorough upset of my 
 life and the only happiness I have ever pictured — 
 the future I have treasured for years ! But I dare 
 not (after what I saw at Bellingham, and what you 
 have since told me about your feeling for Mac- 
 naghten) refrain from offering to set you free from 
 the tie which has hitherto bound us. 
 
 ** It is easier, Tiny, to say things than to forget 
 them ; just as it was easier for me to be angry at 
 Bellingham, rather than wise and patient ; but 
 what you said and did then, took away from me 
 the confidence I had in our future, and left in its 
 place a thousand doubts and difficulties. 
 
 "When I first told you I loved you, and 
 asked you to be my wife, you made me believe 
 that your love for me was so completely a part of 
 your nature, that nothing short of our marriage 
 would satisfy you : and that the happiness of such 
 a union would more than counterbalance any trials 
 and drawbacks incidental to our position. If I 
 had ever doubted this, I should have felt it wrong 
 to offer your mother the decided opposition I did. 
 When I learnt for the first time at Ryde the exist- 
 ence of a previous attachment, you know. Tiny, 
 what I wished to do. I allowed you to overrule 
 me, because I believed events would turn out as 
 
A Reed Shaken zuith the Wind. 267 
 
 they have, in one way ; but I never dreamt that 
 any other feeling would take the slightest hold 
 upon you — even to the extent it did at Belling- 
 ham. 
 
 " I cannot write calmly, after all; and I don't 
 know that many words are wanted. All I have 
 to say is, that I implore you, m.y darling, to 
 be very sure you are making no mistake now. 
 Unless you love me wholly our marriage will sim- 
 ply expose you to a thousand miseries and dan- 
 gers, of which you have at present no conception. 
 Without love, Tiny — the deepest love of your 
 whole being — it will be destitute of the greatest 
 safeguard against temptations to which some 
 natures are peculiarly liable. Think over this 
 while you are away from me, my darling ; you 
 are better able now to come to a clear decision 
 about the state of your own mind, arid what will 
 best promote your future welfare. Do not hesi- 
 tate to choose what seems happiest for you, be- 
 cause your kind little heart shrinks from wounding 
 me ; remember I am a great strong fellow, and 
 can better face this trouble, than you could cope 
 with such a life-long difficulty as an incomplete 
 marriage. 
 
 '' I know too much of the wretchedness and sin 
 such marriages produce, ever to forget it ; and 
 therefore solemnly conjure you, Tiny, not to link 
 your fate with mine if you have one doubt about 
 your affection for me. The thought that I might 
 
268 A Reed Shaken with the Wind. 
 
 prove your evil, and not your good, has sent me 
 down on my knees more than once, and I would 
 welcome any present desolation for myself rather 
 than run such a fearful risk for you, my own dear 
 one — dearer far than my own soul. 
 
 ** Yours, 
 
 '* WiLP^RED Lane." 
 
 • • • • 
 
 "Dunoon. 
 
 *• I would not answer your letter, my darling 
 Wil, in a hurry ; so I kept it for two days in my 
 pocket, and have read it through a great many 
 times since it came. 
 
 " You are a dear, noble, generous-hearted fel- 
 low ; but there was no occasion for you to write 
 as you did, or to place so much weight upon what 
 I have said and done, when I was in an ill-con- 
 ditioned state. 
 
 If I wanted anything to convince me that I 
 never could be happy w^ithout you, this separation 
 would have done it. I feel such a blank, and one 
 does not quite know why it is, till I picture what 
 this place would be like if you were only here ; 
 and then I find it is your absence which makes the 
 want. My own Wil ! our life together is the only 
 one I can think of with any satisfaction ; and I 
 feel sure it will be a happy one, if, as you said in 
 our last sweet talk together, we make up our 
 minds to do all we can for each other's happiness. 
 Certainly, it is only by doing my duty by you 
 
A Reed Shaken with the Wind. 269 
 
 that I shall ever get any real happiness, or do my- 
 self any good ; you must think the same, and then 
 our little home will be a sweet and peaceful one. 
 I do indeed realize this, and am ready to do my 
 best. I think I must succeed better than I have 
 before, because all seems so much clearer. You 
 may be sure that it is no sudden impulse which 
 makes me say this. I may be changeable in tem- 
 perament ; but I am certain that my feeling for 
 you is based upon the deepest part of my mind, 
 and life would be incomplete without you. 
 
 " I quite understand your letter, Wilfred, and 
 feel for you in a way which will, I hope, make me 
 in the future more considerate to you than I have 
 been in the past. I know I was very wrong about 
 Reginald Macnaghten, or rather, I missed the 
 highest right, chiefly from not seeing what I w^as 
 doing ; and, as I am quite, qtiiie certain that a life 
 with you would secure for me a far greater amount 
 of happiness than anything else in the world, I will 
 be more unselfish in the future. I am writing this 
 after some very serious thought, Wil. 
 
 ''Believe me, I could not part with you, any 
 better than you could part with me. The hap- 
 piest moment in the day is when I come down 
 and find a letter from you on the breakfast-table ; 
 and the next best — when I sit down to answer it. 
 Every day makes me more dependent upon you • 
 no, my darling, I never could do without you 
 now", and you would be more than satisfied if you 
 
2/0 A Reed Shaken ivitJi tJie Whid. 
 
 knew how I am longing for the time when we shall 
 always be together in a peaceful little home of our 
 own. I was counting even yesterday the days to 
 that dearest event, and wondering if mamma 
 would insist on our waiting until the six dreariest 
 months I have ever spent in my life are com- 
 pleted. So good-by, my own ; for my own you 
 always, always must be, and that is your answer. 
 I kiss your dear ring as I write. I have no time 
 
 for more. 
 
 " Your own little 
 
 "Tiny." 
 
 This letter extinguished Wilfred's last lingering 
 suspicion ; his whole nature rejoiced in the thought 
 of his darling's love ; and he thanked God for this 
 rich gift, and prayed to be able to make her 
 happy. 
 
 He pursued the owner of the cottage at Chisle- 
 hurst with renewed vigor, and at last obtained his 
 definite answer. Mr. Hall was about to leave 
 England, and wished to sell his cottage, together 
 with the old oak furniture and the curious cabinets 
 it contained. The house was fitted up with such 
 perfect taste, that Tiny used often to say if she 
 herself had planned it, she could not have suc- 
 ceeded better. 
 
 After a few days' negotiation, matters were 
 finally arranged ; and, in spite of the heavy sum it 
 required, Wilfred succeeded in obtaining the cot- 
 
A Reed Shaken with the Wuid. 271 
 
 tage, as Mr. Hall agreed to give him immediate 
 possession, and to let part of the purchase-money 
 stand over for another year. So, when the night 
 mail travelled down to Scotland on the following 
 Monday, it carried a letter which much delighted 
 the little person to whom it was addressed. 
 
 '* My Darling Tiny, 
 
 ** Your letter has made me the happiest man in 
 the whole world ! I will never again have another 
 doubt about your love, so I shall * let the dead 
 past bury its dead,' including Mr. Reginald Mac- 
 naghten, and, by way of acting in the ' living 
 present,' as the poet says, I have just signed, 
 sealed, and paid over the greater part of the pur- 
 chase-money for that queer little place at Chislc- 
 hurst, which took your fancy so last year. As 
 Mr. Hall is going to live in Florence, he wished to 
 sell the whole house as it stands ; so you may now 
 consider yourself the mistress of this quaint little 
 cottage. How I wish you could put yourself into 
 an envelope, and come back in the next post-bag, 
 to preside over your new possession and me ! 
 I am getting so hungry for you. Tiny, that, when 
 I do get hold of you, I shall devour you altogether 
 — there will be nothing of you left. I shall be like 
 the old bear in the story, * who growled over her 
 a little while and then ate her up.' Well, if we 
 had not waited all this time, I should never have 
 saved enough money, so it is all right, I suppose. 
 
2/2 A Reed Shaken with the Wind. 
 
 But we shall not want to buy any more houses, so 
 please tell your mother we really cannot wait any 
 longer. I don't see at all why she should not 
 agree to our being married in September, without 
 any fuss or ceremony. It will then be two years 
 since that day when you found out what those lit- 
 tle marks meant in my Browning. Well, my own, 
 if I felt so for you then, I do ten thousand times 
 more now. You seem a very part of me — and the 
 best part, too. And, after that sweet letter you 
 have written in answer to my offer to let you 
 spread your little wings and fly away, I feel as I 
 used to do when I was a schoolboy at Harrow, 
 the day before the holidays. If I don't take care 
 I shall be playing off a practical joke upon Sir 
 Thomas Slade ! 
 
 * ' So you were kissing my ring for want of some- 
 thing better, eh ? Ah, my little sunshine, if I 
 could only gather you up in my arms at this mo- 
 ment ! Well — Christmas Day will, I hope, find 
 us sitting by our own fireside at Chislehurst. The 
 very thought of it makes me feel like a giant ! 
 
 God bless you. 
 
 *' Yours forever, 
 
 ''W. L." 
 
 This news made Tiny wild with joy. She had 
 taken such a fancy to this cottage, that she de- 
 clared she would rather live there than in any 
 other place in England ; and, for the next fort- 
 
A Reed Shaken with the Wind. 273 
 
 night, she was continually suggesting a hundred 
 little alterations she wanted made in their future 
 home ; and told Wilfred, above everything, to 
 " cultivate earwigs, as no place was really delight- 
 ful without them." 
 
 Lady Harewood was interested in hearing about 
 the house and their future plans, but still said she 
 would not allow the marriage to take place before 
 the end of the prescribed six months. 
 
 "■ So," Avrote Tiny, ''it must be November in- 
 stead of June." 
 13* 
 
CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 
 ** I would not have that exotic virtue which is kept from the 
 chill blast, hidden from evil, without any permission to be exposed 
 to temptation. That alone is virtue which has good placed before 
 it and evil, and, seeing the evil, chooses the good." 
 
 Rev. Frederic Robertson. 
 
 One lovely morning towards the end of August, 
 Lady Lothian and her guests stepped through an 
 open window on to the lawn at Dunoon, while 
 discussing the contents of the letter-bag, which had 
 arrived during breakfast. 
 
 Lady Lothian had been surprised by a letter 
 from her son, who had reached London from St. 
 Petersburgh nearly a fortnight before he was ex- 
 pected. He wanted to bring a friend down for 
 some grouse shooting ; and Lady Lothian was 
 extremely uncomfortable, because she fancied that 
 any society would at present be distasteful to 
 Lady Harewood. 
 
 On reading this letter, Lady Lothian had ex- 
 pressed her astonishment at her son's return, and 
 she felt it was useless to delay mooting the other 
 point to which it referred. ** Herbert wishes to 
 come here next Saturday ; and talks of bringing 
 
A Reed SJiakcii with the Wind. 275 
 
 his friend, Henry Talbot, with him. Will you tell 
 me frankly, dear Lady Harewood, if this would be 
 disagreeable to you and the girls ? If you feel it 
 an intrusion, Herbert can easily go to his own 
 moor in Aberdeenshire, without coming here at 
 all." 
 
 *' I would not, on any account, keep Lord 
 Lothian away," replied her guest. *' The very 
 thought of such a thing makes me uncomfortable 
 at trespassing so long on your hospitality ; and we 
 really ought to be going home." 
 
 *' I will not hear of that. You promised me to 
 stay until the end of September, and by that time 
 I do hope to see you looking a little stronger. 
 Poor Tiny, too, is only just beginning to get a lit- 
 tle color on her cheeks." 
 
 ** Oh, I am very well," said Tiny, slipping her 
 hand into Lady Lothian's, with whom she was a 
 special favorite, for she often reminded her of the 
 daughter she had lost. For her sake and Char- 
 lotte's, Lady Lothian was glad that her son talked 
 of coming w^ith his friend ; for though the young 
 men would spend the greater part of the day on 
 the moors, the very fact of their being in the 
 house would add to its general liveliness. 
 
 There is a certain amount of decorum which 
 ought to be observed ; but when grief is genuine, 
 people need not be afraid of making their out- 
 ward circumstances as cheerful as possible. 
 
 And certainly the arrival of Lord Lothian and 
 
2/6 A Reed Shaken with the Wind. 
 
 Mr. Talbot made a difference to everybody in the 
 house, although at first the days were spent in 
 the pursuit of grouse; and when they returned, 
 tired with their sport, they did not always join the 
 ladies after dinner. 
 
 But, before very long, an excursion was planned 
 to Loch Katrine and the Trossachs, and sundry 
 boating expeditions followed. Tiny's letters to 
 Wilfred were filled with descriptions of the lovely 
 scenery through which they passed ; and he 
 rejoiced to find how rapidly she was recovering 
 her spirits, and that the seclusion Lady Harewood 
 at first rigidly enforced had come to so timely an 
 end. 
 
 But when Tiny's letters became shorter than be- 
 fore, he almost grudged the time spent in these 
 mountain and boating excursions ; and, at last, 
 when a whole week passed and he never heard at 
 all, he felt anxious, and despatched a grumbling 
 epistle to Dunoon. 
 
 Tiny answered by saying " the days were so full, 
 that even letters to him ' seemed a push ; ' " — an 
 expression which somewhat astonished him, though 
 he did not wonder at her raptures over " an 
 atmosphere which seemed to have so little of the 
 nineteenth century about it." " I cannot describe 
 the feeling," she said; "but there is such an 
 absence of that irritating shallowness of perpetual 
 go, which means nothing, and produces nothing 
 lasting, and never can do any one any good." 
 
I 
 
 A Reed Shaken with the Wind. 277 
 
 In the same letter she said : 
 
 " I read Thomas-a-Kempis every day, as you 
 asked me to do. The thing he appears to dwell 
 on most is the necessity of training the mind to the 
 inward, and not to the outward condition of life. 
 That is, as you often say, my greatest difficulty ; 
 and habit has increased my natural tendency to 
 externals. But, Wil, I can honestly say that I de- 
 rive very little pleasure from them ; at least, the 
 pleasure which comes is so unsatisfactory that it is 
 nearer like vexation. I read such a glorious chap- 
 ter in Proverbs this morning ; one verse in it made 
 me think for a long time : it was about the spirit 
 of a man being the candle of the Lord reaching 
 the inmost parts ; that spirit, I find, is the only 
 finger-post to the path where one's duty lies, and 
 I try to test my feeling for you by that, and to 
 act accordingly. I quite understand your com- 
 plaining about my letters. I don't know why I 
 feel so disinclined to write about our proceedings ; 
 but you don't know the people here, and details of 
 going out and coming in are only interesting when 
 connected with people yoa know something of." 
 
 This last sentence seemed to Wilfred strangely 
 inconsistent with Tiny's previous delight in telling 
 him every passing incident of her daily life. 
 
CHAPTER XXXV. 
 
 ** Till from the straw the flail the corn doth beat 
 Until the chaff be purged from the wheat, 
 Yea, till the mill the grains in pieces tear 
 The richness of the flour will scarce appear. 
 So, till men's persons great afflictions touch 
 If worth be found, their w^orth is not so much, 
 Because, like wheat in straw, they have not yet 
 That value which in threshing they may get. 
 For, till the bruising flail of God's corrections 
 Have threshed out of us our vain affections ; 
 Till those corruptions which do misbecome us 
 Are by thy sacred Spirit winnowetl from us ; 
 Until from us the straw of worldly treasures, 
 Till all the dusty chaff of empty pleasures, 
 Yea ! till His flail upon us He doth lay 
 To thresh the husk of this our flesh away 
 And leave the soul uncovered ; nay, yet mor^ 
 Till God shall make our very spirit poor. 
 We shall not up to highest wealth aspire. 
 But then we shall ; and that is my desire." 
 
 Wither, 
 
 September passed away, and the first week in 
 October found the Harewoods still at Dunoon, 
 For ten days Wilfred had not heard from Tiny : 
 one morning, however, he found a thick envelope 
 on the breakfast-table ; eagerly seizing it, and 
 
A Reed Shaken with the Wind. 279 
 
 pushing aside his breakfast, he sat down to devour 
 its contents. 
 
 It commenced with an account of two days 
 spent in Arran, and then continued, after a 
 break : 
 
 ''This autumn weather, the falHng leaves, and 
 the lovely tints, have such a strange effect upon me. 
 Such a view we saw yesterday as we were walk- 
 ing home — thick mists rose in the valley, which 
 were bright pink where the sun shone through 
 them — deep blue where they were in shade — 
 and the woods a thousand colors ; cherry, orange, 
 and every conceivable shade. The outlines were 
 as magical as Turner's, or some of Gustave Dore's 
 drawings." 
 
 Here the letter broke off, and was, apparently, 
 continued a few days later : 
 
 ** Oh, Wil, life is very difficult, with all its 
 complicated feelings and necessities ! But I sup- 
 pose we are given something inside us to guide us 
 in these complications. We stumble, fall, and 
 dissemble ; and the dissembling returns upon our- 
 selves. The heart alone knoweth its own bitter- 
 ness, but also alone knoweth its own comfort. 
 Wilfred, the more I see of myself the more 
 diffident I get about myself Such a curious 
 feeling has come into my life that I dare no longer 
 deceive you. I have a feeling for Lord Lothian. 
 
28o A Reed Shaken with the Wmd. 
 
 Dishonest I have not been, because I have de^ 
 ceived myself more than you. I came to you 
 full of the intensest feeling towards another. 
 Your superiority to me, in so many ways, gave me 
 such a respect for you that it blinded me to the 
 sin I was committing — and so it has been all along. 
 The great good and strength you were to me, 
 deadened the feeling that I was not all I should 
 have been to you ; and my real affection — a thou- 
 sand times greater now than when you first told me 
 that you loved me — made me shrink from not try- 
 ing to be all you wished me to be to you. This is 
 the truth, Wil. You may well say that I ought to 
 have said so when you wrote to me that letter some 
 weeks ago, and asked me to think seriously of our 
 life. I did think, to the best of my power, Wil 
 darling ; and it then seemed to me that a life with 
 you would be the best and happiest I could ima- 
 gine. 
 
 " I thought that episode at Bellingham Castle 
 was entirely my own fault, arising from self-in- 
 dulgence and love of admiration. So it was ; and 
 if this feeling were like it, 1 should consider it as 
 unworthy as I consider that. 
 
 "God knows my strongest desire now is thatj 
 you may not suffer from my being what I am if 
 I can help it. Though you would be wrong to 
 think I am happy, yet, when Lord Lothian asked 
 me for my love, I felt if I refused it him I 
 should be shutting out of my life the brightest 
 
A Reed Shaken with the Wind. 281 
 
 glow of happiness I have ever imagined since 
 that miserable affair with Captain Foy. 
 
 " Since that winter at Windsor, I have not even 
 imagined any happiness in life till this time — I 
 mean happiness which God puts into your nature 
 without your asking for it or seeking it in any way. 
 I know that happiness is not the goal of life, 
 nor is it to be got by seeking it irrespectively of 
 duty ; and, Wil, believe me when I say I have 
 tried to do what I ought to do in this matter. 
 
 '* Throughout all my weaknesses and changes 
 there is but one thing I am able steadily to believe 
 and think of — the strength and help you have 
 been to me. Wilfred, the growth of the little 
 that is worth having in me, is solely connected 
 with the time I have been so much with you. If 
 the thought of me gives you pain, I would, if 
 I could, obliterate myself from your memory ; 
 though I can hardly tell you what that would be 
 to me. Whatever you may say or do, I shall 
 never be able to be anything but your own 
 Tiny ; own in the best sense of the word — for 
 the only part I respect in myself is closely united 
 with something in you. 
 
 ** Pity me, Wil, for I cannot be happy, know- 
 ing the wrong I have done to you. 
 
 ''Tiny." 
 
 When Wilfred finished reading this letter, he 
 began it again, and read it through from begin- 
 
282 A Reed Shaken with the Wind. 
 
 ning to end. He did not seem able to under- 
 stand it. At last his eyes fixed upon the words, 
 "I HAVE A FEELING FOR LORD LO- 
 THIAN." He repeated them aloud; and then 
 seemed so startled by the sound of his own voice, 
 that he sat looking at that sentence without at- 
 tempting to move. 
 
 He was disturbed by the entrance of the servant 
 who came in to remove the breakfast, wondering 
 why Mr. Lane lingered such a long time over it ; 
 wondering still more when she saw he had not 
 touched it. Before she could speak, Wilfred 
 thrust his letter into his breast-pocket, and, taking 
 up his hat, went down the stairs at once to avoid 
 observation. 
 
 The blow had so crushed him that he wandered 
 about the streets like a man in a dream. He was 
 neither conscious of where he walked, nor of the 
 crowd around him. Mechanically he took his 
 usual route to the War Office, but passed it with- 
 out knowing he did so. He turned to the left, up 
 Regent Street, passed the Langham Hotel, on 
 through Portland Place, the Regent's Park — on, 
 on, to Primrose Hill, with his eyes on the ground, 
 and his lips every now and then murmuring, 
 •'Tiny, Tiny!" 
 
 At last he suddenly remembered that it was 
 Saturday morning. There was some special work 
 to be done that day at the War Office ; and after 
 this he had arranged to go to Chislehurst, for he 
 
A Reed Shaken with the Wind. 283 
 
 wanted the place to be in perfect order before 
 Tiny returned. Oh, how he loathed the very 
 name of Chislehurst now ! It seemed to stab him 
 in every vulnerable part, and brought ten thou- 
 sand pangs in place of the happy confidence which 
 had been his at this very hour yesterday. He 
 hastily retraced his steps, and calling a Hansom 
 cab, told the driver to hurry on to the War Office ; 
 and, as he walked up the steps, he involuntarily 
 exclaimed, *' God help the man she now says she 
 loves 1 " 
 
 When Mr. Lane apologized to Sir Thomas 
 Slade for his late arrival, there was but little need 
 to say he was ill ; his face told the tale plainly 
 enough. A headache, however, did duty for the 
 real pain he was suffering ; and after vainly 
 attempting to work, Wilfred was forced to return 
 home. 
 
 He locked himself into his room. Feeling faint 
 and chilly, he poured out a tumbler of brandy and 
 water, and drank it off ; then putting a match to 
 his fire, threw himself into the arm-chair before it, 
 and sat hour after hour vacantly staring at the 
 flickering blaze — perfectly stunned by this unex- 
 pected blow. 
 
 At last he drew out Tiny's letter ; yes, there 
 were the words — '* I have a feeling for Lord Lp- 
 tJiian.'" Wilfred could see nothing else on the 
 whole sheet but those terrible words — '* I have a 
 feeling for Lord Lothian.'' He staggered to the 
 
284 A Reed SJiaken witli tJie Wind. 
 
 writing-table, and, unlocking a drawer, took out 
 several bundles of letters. Here was the packet 
 from Rome — these, tied up w^ith a lock of fair hair, 
 were the letters from Berkshire. Opening the 
 foreign ones, he read them through ; and, as he 
 laid them back in the drawer, he thought the nov^- 
 elist was right when he said there are no better 
 satires than letters. 
 
 '* Vows — love — promises — confidences and gratitude — how queer- 
 ly they read after a while ! There ought to be a law in Vanity Fair 
 ordering the destruction of every written document (except receipted 
 tradesmen's bills) after a certain and proper period. The quacks 
 and misanthropes who advertise indelible ink should Ije made to 
 perish along with their wicked discoveries. The best ink for Van- 
 ity Fair use would be one that faded utterly in a couple of days, and 
 left the paper clean and blank, so that you might write on it to 
 somebody else." 
 
 Sweet and bitter thoughts were crowding 
 through Wilfred's mind, as he sat resting his head 
 on his hands against the table — memories of infi- 
 nite tendernesses he had received from Tiny ; days 
 and hours which never could be forgotten ; love 
 which no future falseness could ever quite efface ! 
 Recollections came, too, of the hot and fatal pas- 
 sion of his youth — his sin was finding him out 
 after many days ! 
 
 Morning dawned, and Wilfred still sat battling 
 with his misery. He took up a pen, and, dravv^ing 
 closer to the table, he began to write : 
 
 " Your letter, Tiny, was such a shock to me, 
 
A Reed Shaken with the Wind, 285 
 
 that I could not answer it as you requested, by 
 return of post. I feel bewildered. It is scarcely 
 three weeks since I received that dear and loving 
 letter which I prized and believed in so — and now ! 
 What am I to think? what am I to say? When 
 did you deceive yourself — then or now ? There is 
 but one conclusion, Tiny — you are utterly unsta- 
 ble ; and I am powerless to save you, because the 
 feeling of love and honor which you ought to 
 have is wanting. 
 
 " After hours of battling with my own feelings, 
 I can only pray that you may not live out your 
 present fancy as you have your love for me. If 
 you will indulge your perilous love of power, it 
 must end in corrupting the high and glorious 
 spirit which God meant to be the best part of 
 you ; but which you are extinguishing by this 
 perpetual crucifixion of your higher nature. 
 
 '' I do not want to blame you. Tiny; I know 
 our position has been a very difficult one ; with 
 every one seeking to undermine our tie instead of 
 strengthening it, none but a very firm true heart 
 could have stood the test. But when you re- 
 turned from Rome — but that was before you had 
 lived through your feeling for me. 
 
 "Tiny, it is useless to write, and I am too be- 
 wildered to think — the misery of the last twenty- 
 four hours seems simply unreal ; you, another 
 person. To think of life with you out of it, 
 almost drives me mad ; my mind seems to have 
 
286 A Reed Shaken with the Whtd, 
 
 lost its balance, and my very body seems shaken 
 already by the blow. You ask me to help you. 
 Tiny, I want help myself. The thought that you 
 have any pain from which I cannot shield you, 
 tortures me. You cannot be happy, my poor 
 child, though you have not the misery I have to 
 bear. Oh ! Tiny, my own — I cannot write. No 
 words can recall the past : all we have now to do 
 is to bury it reverently, without recriminations — 
 and may God help us both in our different kinds 
 of need and misery ! Tiny, though you have 
 sinned in the past, I implore you to be good and 
 true in your next relationship— for' this I will never 
 cease to pray. 
 
 " As for me, I have deserved this bitterness — 
 you are simply the instrument of a just retribu- 
 tion ; nothing short of having my own happiness 
 torn up by the very roots would ever have pun- 
 ished me as I deserve." 
 
 • • • • • 
 
 Just as Wilfred Lane finished writing, the Sun- 
 day-morning church-bells rang out as usual ; when 
 he heard them, he gave a cry of pain, and, kneel- 
 ing down, hid his face in his hands. The bitter 
 sobs which broke from him for hours after told 
 that the iron had entered his soul as only the hand 
 of Tiny could have driven it. 
 
 FINIS. 
 
The Abominations of Modern Society. 
 
 BY REV. T. DE WITT TALMAGE. 
 
 A most startling and eifective presentation of the vices and 
 follies of the great eify. "It is a buoy," saj's the author, "swung 
 over the rocks, and a beacoii to warn the unwary." It has akeady 
 had an immense sale, and is now a standard in the Trade. 
 
 II. 
 
 Get Thee Behind Me, Satan ! 
 
 BY OLIVE LOGAN. 
 
 A Home Born Book of Home Truths — giving chapters on 
 Girlhood, Bellehood, Wifehood, Motherhood, the Woman Single 
 and the Woman Wedded, the Relations of Wife, Husband and 
 Parent, and discussing, in an eminently suggestive manner, some 
 of the social problems which are vexing homes, society and persons 
 alike. The book has made a decided sensation, and is enjoying a very 
 great currency. 
 
 III. 
 
 Livingstone, and His African Explora- 
 tions. 
 
 By S.O. BEETON, F. R. G. S., ^ RONALD SMITH, of Bombay. 
 
 With a full account of Hrs recent wonderful discoveries; 
 sketches of all the Livingstone Search Expeditions ; chapters on 
 the Slave Trade, &c., &c. With Portrait and new Map of the 
 Great Water Shed Region of Equatorial Africa, &c., &c. 
 
 » 
 
 Each of the above is in a beautiful 12mo. volume, bound in 
 Extra Cloth; Price, 81.50. Sold by all book dealers, or sent, post 
 jMiul, on receipt of price, by 
 
 ADAMS, VICTOR & CO., PUBLISHERS, 
 
 98 William Street, New York. 
 
A TRULY NOBLE BOOK! 
 
 AND 
 ESPECIALLY SUGGESTIVE TO YOUNG MEN AND YOUNG WOMEN ! 
 
 
 
 THE 
 
 WIHAIIOHS OF MODERN SOCIETV I 
 
 By Rev. T. De WITT TALMAGE. 
 
 CONTENTS :— " The Curtain Lifted " (The Great City as it is) ; " Winter 
 Nights;" "The Power of Clothes;" "After Midnight," (or, Scenea 
 within and without), "The Indiscriminate Dance," (Sociables, 
 Public Balls, &c. ); "The Massacre by Needle and Sewing Machine," 
 (All about Shop-Girls, Sewing Women, &,c.); "Pictures in the Stock 
 Gallery." (or. How Stock-Gamblers Gamble) ; "Leprous Newspapers; " 
 "The Fatal Ten Strike;" "Lies— White and Black," (Commercial 
 and Social Falsehood) ; " Some of the Club-Rooms ; " " Flask, Bottle, 
 and Demijohn ; " " The Gun that Kicks over the Man who Shoots it 
 Off." (Blasphemy); "The House of Blackness of Darkness," (the 
 " Social Evil " ) ; " The Good Time Coming." 
 
 This notable book has passed through more rapid editiona 
 than any volume issued for a long time, and it bids fair to be 
 classed with those works which stand out in the Trade aa 
 milestone^; on the highway of American Literature. 
 
 " Glowing with impassioned fervor, it wages a deadly war against the vices 
 of the day in their most enticing forms." — N. Y. Tribune. 
 
 "When Talmage speaks, thousands listen ; when he writes, hundreds of 
 thousands read." — N. Y. Hearth and Home. 
 
 " He is a fearless antagonist to all forms of corruption. Blows are what 
 he gives ; and yet, as the blade goes swiftly down, the jewels frequently 
 flash on the eye." — The Interior, Chicago. 
 
 " As warmly praised and as vehemently denounced as any volume which 
 has recently appeared. . . . The purpose of the work, we need not say, 
 is the very best." — N. Y. Independent. 
 
 "We have read this new book with feelings we can hardly describe. We 
 know of no living preacher who could have written it but Dr. Talmage. 
 . . . Oh, it is a good book to make all good men and women go down on 
 their knees and cry mightily to God against the destroyers of virtue, peace, 
 
 and life May it be circulated in tens of thousands 1 " — London 
 
 {E7ig.) Christian Age. (Spurgeon's paper.) 
 
 In one fine volume, 12mo. Price $1.50. 
 
 Sold by all booksellers, or sent, post-paid, on receipt of price by 
 
 ADAMS, VICTOR & CO., Publishers, 
 
 98 WILLIAM STREET, N. Y.