HOR OF 
 
 ICE VERSA
 
 f 
 
 LTBRAW 
 
 UNlVtfi :TY OF 
 SAN DIEGO
 
 THE 
 
 PARIAH 
 
 BY 
 
 F. ANSTEY 
 
 AUTHOR O 'VICE VERSA ' ' THE QIANT'8 BOB!' 
 A FALLEN IDOL' KTO, 
 
 A NEW EDITION 
 
 LONDON 
 
 SMITH, ELDER, & CO., 15 WATERLOO PLACE 
 1893
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 BOOK I. 
 ANTIPATHY AND ATTRACTION. 
 
 CHAPTZB PAOE 
 
 I. ENGLISH EXCLUSIVENES8 1 
 
 H. BREAKING THE ICE ......... 10 
 
 HI. A HIGH-HANDED PBOCEEDING 17 
 
 IT. YOUNG MB. CHADWICK 26 
 
 T. VALENTINE AND OB80N 37 
 
 VI. 80 YOUNG AND 80 UN-TENDEB 1 . . 47 
 
 VH. A BEACTION 57 
 
 VIII. AN UNEXPECTED DELIVEBANCE 69 
 
 II. A CLOUD FROM AOBOSS THE SEA . . . . . .78 
 
 BOOK II. 
 KICKING AGAINST THE PEICKS. 
 
 I. BCYLLA AND CHABYBDIS 84 
 
 II. DEL* AND CHINA 90 
 
 III. TO DEAF EAB8 100 
 
 IV. THE DANGEBS OF NOT KNOWING WHEN TO STOP . . . 108 
 
 T. A MODUS VIVENDI 116 
 
 BOOK III. 
 
 PRELIMINARIES TO HANGING A DOG. 
 
 I. COMMENTS AFTER CHUBCH 128 
 
 II. ATTEMPTS TO MANUFACTURE A SILK PURSE 138 
 
 III. CARE AND THE HORSEMAN . 148 
 
 IV. DISMOUNTED 156 
 
 V. A SOJOUBN IN COVENTRY 164 
 
 Tl. MARGOT A8K8 ADVICS AND RECEIVES IT 172
 
 IV CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER PAOB 
 
 VII. CARELESS CLEMESCT . ....... 180 
 
 Tin. PBIYATB TUITION 189 
 
 IX. DIFFERING CODES 199 
 
 Z. THE LAST 8TKAW 209 
 
 BOOK IV, 
 CUCKOO TACTICS. 
 
 I. OIBCOMSTANTIAL EVIDENOB 218 
 
 n. AMATEUR HEROISM 226 
 
 III. AM UNWILLING ARBITRKSS 235 
 
 IT. TBU8TINQ TO A REED 245 
 
 T. VESTIGIA NULLA BETBORSUM 253 
 
 YI. THK BEST THING JOB EVERYBODY 262 
 
 BOOK 7. 
 
 JUDGMENT v. INCLINATION. 
 
 I. IN DOUBT 273 
 
 II. A PARTIAL SOLUTIOH 281 
 
 m. WARNED 288 
 
 IV. THE TOBTUBES OF INDECISION . 295 
 
 v. snss CHEVENING'S CANDOUB 305 
 
 VI. IN A BALCONY 313 
 
 VH. MRS. ANTBOBU8 AS A DIPLOMATIST 324 
 
 VIH. AUTUMN MANOEUVRES 332 
 
 BOOK VI. 
 
 NEMESIS. 
 
 I. LOVKBS AND A RENDEZVOUS ....... 342 
 
 H. A BETROSPEOT 349 
 
 m. BUT A LITTLE LONGER 356 
 
 IV. UNDECEIVED 365 
 
 V. ON THE VEBGB ......... 377 
 
 VI. LTTEBA SCBIPTA 385 
 
 VH. GAINING TIME 396 
 
 Vin. THE COURAGE OP DESPAIR 405 
 
 IX. MARGOT GOES TO MAKE AMENDS 414 
 
 X. BEYOND HEB POWEB 423 
 
 XL, A HOUSE OF MOURNING 426 
 
 MI. NUGENT UNDERSTANDS AT LAST .... . 436
 
 THE PARIAH 
 
 BOOK I. 
 ANTIPATHY AND ATTRACTION 
 
 Sie war liebenswttrdig, und er liebte Sie ; Er aber war nicht lieben*. 
 wiirdig, und Sie liebte Ihn nicht ' (Altes Stuck) HEINB 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 ENGLISH EXCLUSIYEN'ESS. 
 
 And curving a contumelious lip, 
 Gorgonised me from head to foot 
 With a stony British stare. Maud. 
 
 IT was the hottest hour of an afternoon in mid- August; the plage 
 at Trouville was crowded, the great bathing function at its height. 
 
 Bathing-machines were lurching and jolting ^down to the 
 water's edge ; stout French gentlemen, striped red, white and blue, 
 like cheap sweetstuff, were floundering in a couple of feet of water 
 with the air of sea-lions ; younger men were swimming out beyond 
 the masts, or displaying their symmetry on the deck of their 
 double-canoes ; ladies in baggy blue tunics and trousers were 
 clinging to the ropes and screaming with shrill ecstasy when a 
 larger wave than usual knocked their oilskin caps together ; on the 
 sands there were gay tents, tricolour flags, giant umbrellas, under 
 which the bathers received en peignoir or read their ' Gil Bias ' 
 and ' Petit Journal ' between then: dips. 
 
 To the British mind there is something irregular and almost 
 improper in the idea of bathing in the afternoon, and the British 
 constitution generally prefers to digest its mid- day meal under 
 other conditions than seated on a straw chair, in a scorching sun, 
 and on glaring white-hot sand, watching foreigners making more 
 or less painful exhibitions of themselves. 
 
 And so, the Grand Hotel Californie at Trouville being the 
 establishment most in favour with English-speaking visitors, some 
 
 B
 
 2 THE PAHIAH 
 
 of these were generally to be found at this particular time upon a 
 terrace opening out of the central salle of that hotel, and protected 
 from the sun as far as possible by a great awning. 
 
 This afternoon, for some reason, the party was less numerous 
 and representative than on others, consisting chiefly of Mr. and 
 Mrs. Spoker, a young married couple, and Mr. Hiram P. "Whipple, 
 a reflective but uncommunicative American, with a withered wifa 
 and a brilliant daughter. 
 
 Conversation had followed its well-worn groove abuse of the 
 management, the hours, the wines, the cookery, the beds, the 
 charges, for there are few travellers with souls so dead as to own 
 themselves satisfied with anything at a foreign hotel, but all that 
 could be said on these subjects had been said once more and a 
 pause had followed, the reproach of which each seemed too lazy 
 to remove, until Mr. Spoker, a light-eyelashed, foxy-faced young 
 man, introduced a new subject. 
 
 ' If we'd had a little more energy, all of us,' he remarked, ' we 
 might have been at Deauville races this afternoon; they ran a 
 drag over from the hotel.' 
 
 ' Well,' said Miss Magnolia Whipple, ' if anything could make 
 me hotter than I am it would be looking on at horse-racing on an 
 afternoon like this ; not that you could expect any horse to hurry 
 they won't do more than stroll quietly along the course on the 
 shady side.' 
 
 'Of course,' said Mr. Spoker, 'these foreign meetings aren't 
 like the real thing rather playing at racing.' 
 
 ' Now wouldn't anyone think, to hear him talk, that he never 
 missed a race when he's at home ? ' cried his wife, who charged 
 herself with the duty of unmasking her husband's harmless little 
 affectations; 'and yet I don't believe he was ever even at the 
 Derby more than once in his life now, were you, Alfred ? Ah, 
 he won't answer ! ' she cried in high glee. ' I've offended him. 
 Never mind, Alfred, dear, you do know something about racing 
 he spotted the winning horse at the "Petits Chevaux " last night 
 from the way it carried its tail he won fourteen francs, which 
 gives him a right to talk like a sportsman.' 
 
 ' As you lost them and a lot more in the course of the evening,' 
 retorted Mr. Spoker, ' I should have thought it didn't give you any 
 right to talk at all.' 
 
 ' Should you, Alfred, really ? Ah, well, you see your mistake 
 
 now, dear. ' By the way," she broke off, ' does anyone know what 
 
 has become of Mrs. Chevening and her daughter ? They generally 
 
 sit out here for a little while. I wonder if they've gone to the 
 
 races 1 ' 
 
 ' Mrs. Chevening's too real high-toned to go, unless it was on top 
 of a four-in-hand with a few dukes around,' drawled Miss Magnolia 
 Whipple. 'And there.'s not much aristocracy at this hotel, only 
 one Italian prince, and poppa took him for a waiter.' 
 
 ' Magnolia Whipple, you do dress things up beyond all I ' re-
 
 ENGLISH EXCLUSIVENESS 3 
 
 inonstrated her mother. ' Your father merely told him he must 
 take two dollars off our bill ; it was the hotel clerk he thought he 
 was speaking to.' 
 
 ; Well, and that wouldn't turn most princes' heads, I should 
 think. But it was Mrs. Chevening we were talking of. Can any- 
 one inform me what's the reason they have for thinking themselves 
 just too select for anything, those two, particularly the girl ? Why 
 has she got that way of not seeming to have any use for most 
 people ? Who is she, anyway ? ' 
 
 ' They belong to a good family well connected and all that 
 related to Lord Yaverland,' said Mr. Spoker. 
 
 'Alfred, you are too funny when you talk Peerage, and you 
 don't know anything about it yourself only what she chose to 
 tell you.' 
 
 ' She's the widow of a colonel, isn't she ? ' said Miss Whipple, 
 1 and not a live colonel at that. We don't think very much of that 
 at home. And they don't seem to live in any style where they are, 
 either. I don't see why they behave as if nothing and nobody 
 was good enough for them.' 
 
 ' Magnolia,' said her mother, ' you'll have people thinking 
 you're jealous if you go on that way.' 
 
 ' Mother's like the lady who was always telling her daughter 
 to take her eyelashes out of tangle,' said Miss Magnolia with 
 perfect serenity ; ' but I'm not jealous our styles are too distinct 
 to clash. And I admire her, ever so much. I think she's too 
 beautiful almost to live, and I'd just adore her if she'd let me but 
 she never has any time for me, and that makes me so mad with 
 her. I don't like being made to feel no account every time ! ' 
 
 One or two of her male listeners seemed half conscious here 
 that a complimentary speech of some sort was expected from them, 
 but complimenting the pretty American in public was rather like 
 riding at the quintain ; any 'lack of adroitness was certain to result 
 in a shower of chaff, so they deferred the venture to a more 
 private occasion. 
 
 She had scarcely finished her sentence before one of the swing- 
 doors which communicated with the central hall of the hotel 
 opened, and the party was joined by the lady whose title to 
 exclusiveness she had been calling in question. 
 
 Mrs. Chevening greeted the company with a smiling and com- 
 prehensive nod, not perhaps free from a suspicion of condescension, 
 as she took one of the seats that had been placed at her disposal. 
 She was a handsome woman, who moved and spoke with a languid 
 grace that was mannered without being affected. In spite of the 
 grey streaks in her luxuriant hair, and one or two lines traced by 
 anxiety or worry on her brow and about her mouth, she looked 
 some years younger than her actual age, which was forty-three. 
 Her dress was what an English matron of means and position 
 might be expected to wear at such a place, and certainly, even to 
 a female eye, betrayed no signs of undue regard for economy. 
 
 Bi
 
 4 THE PARIAH 
 
 4 We've just been discussing some of the people at this hotel,' 
 said Miss Magnolia audaciously. 
 
 4 Oh,' said Mrs. Chevening, who did not approve of Miss 
 Whipple ; ' and were they really worth the trouble ? ' 
 
 4 Well, we were wondering,' replied the young lady demurely. 
 
 ' I can't say I have seen anyone as yet in whom I could feel the 
 faintest interest,' continued the other. 4 Trouville is so changed 
 from what I remember it such a very different class of people 
 come here now.' 
 
 4 Talking of queer people,' put in Mr. Spoker, who perhaps felt 
 that the conversation was trenching on delicate ground, ' who's the 
 man who goes about In a pith helmet man who comes to table 
 d'hote in a light coat looks like an Army man ? ' 
 
 4 Not in the least like any Army man I ever met ! ' said Mrs. 
 Cheveningjin the tone of an authority on the subject. 4 He looks an 
 odious person they put him next to me at dinner last night.' 
 
 4 Did you get any talk with him ? ' 
 
 4 1 ? No. indeed ! I am not so fond of talking to persons I 
 know nothing about, so many people travel now who are quite too 
 impossible; and this man may be a bootmaker or something 
 dreadful of that kind at home, for anything one can tell.' 
 
 4 If you really want to know all about him, Spoker,' said one of 
 the men, 4 old Liversedge is your man ; lives in his part of the 
 country, or knew him out in India or something don't seem very 
 intimate here though.' 
 
 4 Mr. Liversedge knows something about everybody, it seems to 
 me,' said Miss Magnolia; 4 and it's never anything they'd be likely 
 to put in their autobiographies either. It seems a little cooler 
 now ; the band will have begun at the Casino by this time ; sup- 
 pose we make a move ; won't you honour us, Mrs. Chevening ? ' 
 
 4 You are very good,' was the reply, 4 but I must find my 
 daughter first. I thought she would have been out here.' 
 
 ' She hasn't come near us since lunch. Seems as if she had 
 found more interesting company somewhere,' said Miss Whipple, 
 not without malice, as she prepared to descend with the rest of her 
 party and cross the boarded sands to the Casino. 
 
 Meanwhile the wearer of the pith helmet a covering which 
 had procured him notice even at Trouville, where hats and caps 
 incline to the fantastic had been wandering disconsolately about 
 the town. Earlier in the day he had attempted to take a bath, but 
 failing to master the rather complicated preliminaries, he had got 
 into a machine without any of the numerous tickets, and the 
 baigncur, after vainly trying to inform him that he must go back 
 and book his cabane, peignoir, serviette, and costume, by separate 
 processes, and then present himself anew, was reduced to ordering 
 him out of the machine in unmistakable pantomime ; whereupon 
 the Englishman had retreated under cover of a volley of Hindu- 
 stani, and turned disgustedly up the nearest street. 4 What waa 
 that fool in the red flannel driving at, I wonder,' he was thinking.
 
 ENGLISH EXCLUSIVENES8 5 
 
 1 1 should have hoped I was respectable enough to be allowed to 
 bathe in their beastly sea without producing my passport and 
 certificate of birth, and the Lord knows what ! ' 
 
 The heat in the narrow streets was oppressive ; the gutters 
 exhaled a succession of odours that were not refreshing, the pave- 
 ments were bare, for all the usual loiterers were away at Deauville ; 
 the proprietors of the shops where ' Articles de Paris ' were sold 
 were asleep in their muslined and mirrored back-parlours ; the 
 dame du co-mptoir at the confectioner's was dozing over her 
 feuilleton ; the waiters in the green-shuttered cafe's were sleeping 
 with their heads laid on the marble-topped tables. As the wanderer 
 passed a private house where windows opened upon the street, he 
 had a view of a gaudy little room, all ormolu and floral tapestry, 
 with a stout bourgeois and his poodle slumbering peacefully on 
 opposite armchairs. The only sounds that broke the hot stillness 
 were the click Of billiard balls, or rattle of dominoes from the upper 
 rooms of restaurants, the drowsy tinkle of a pension piano, or the 
 peevish jingle of bells whenever one of the fly-horses on the place 
 shook his long-suffering and sheepskinned head. 
 
 At the little circulating library where English was spoken, but 
 not understood, yesterday's London papers had not yet come in. 
 The Englishman had smoked all his own cigars and mistrusted, 
 not unjustly, those produced under the fostering care of the French 
 government. He was absolutely without resources, being one of 
 those persons who soon exhaust the pleasure of novelty. 
 
 ^Yalking idly along in that unenviable mood in which each change 
 of direction seems more wearisome, Mr. Joshua Chadwick, as his 
 name was, fell into a somewhat bitter and sombre train of thought. 
 
 ' Upon my soul,' he was saying inwardly, ' for all the acquaint- 
 ances I've made, or am likely to make in this hole, I might as well 
 be back at one of the old Furredpore concerns at once better, for 
 1 could do as I pleased there. It does seem an extraordinary thing 
 that with so many English people at the hotel I haven't found a 
 soul to speak to. They stuck me between a pair of Frenchmen at 
 every table d'hote except last night, and then I didn't get on much 
 better, that woman with the grey hair wouldn't talk. I wonder if 
 Liversedge has been telling them about me. It's likely enough. I 
 was pretty short wit -i him when he came up to me with some eye- 
 wash or other about our being neighbours at Gorsecombe now, and 
 hoping we should be friends. " If I wasn't good enough for you 
 in Bengal," I said, "I'm not good enough for you here." I've 
 never forgiven him that day he came to dine with me at the 
 factory, and found a ryot an obstinate old devil who wouldn't sow 
 a single beegah of his fields in indigo locked up in the go-down. 
 Anybody else would have taken no notice, seeing he was my guest ; 
 but Liversedge had me up and fined me, and made me lot the nigger 
 out too. That was the last time he ever dined with me while he 
 was in the district. But what could he say against me here? 
 Only that I wasn't as steady as I might have been. Who was
 
 6 THE PAEIAH 
 
 there out there to care how I lived ? "Who will care now when I'm 
 rich and turned respectable ? Respectable ! yes, I've got some 
 object in keeping respectable now, for the boy's sake.' 
 
 Joshua Chadwick's career had been a singularly hard and un- 
 successful one till quite lately. Twenty-two years before he was 
 in his father's business with every prospect of a speedy partner- 
 ship. Then he had committed the offence which had led to his 
 expulsion; he had married one of the assistants emploj-ed in 
 the establishment an imprudence which the old man could not 
 forgive. 
 
 Chadwick had gone out to Calcutta : his father's business lay in 
 Oriental goods generally, and he expected that one of the banks 
 there, with whom their house had dealings, might be inclined to 
 help him, as proved to be the case. 
 
 The bank, like many Indian banks, owned silk and indigo 
 factories in various districts, and to one of them young Chadwick 
 was sent as assistant-manager. At that time he was rather of the 
 type of 'good young man,' brought up in a strict Dissenting circle, 
 an active Christian of a somewhat exuberant class, energetic, 
 emotional, fond of power. To be persecuted for doing right was 
 gratifying ; he went out with a light heart to make a home for his 
 young wife, and gain riches in spite of the parental edict. He 
 happened to reach the indigo plantation in the very height of the 
 disputes between planters, ryots, and missionaries, and his avowed 
 leaning to the latter did not make him more popular with his 
 fellow-planters. He was not a man with any graces of manner, 
 nor was he accustomed to society ; he lived much to himself, and 
 put by all that he could save from his salary towards the home he 
 was planning. Then came the news which made him an altered 
 man ; his wife had died, leaving him with an infant son whom he 
 had never seen. He grew morose and overbearing, fell out with 
 his only friends, the missionaries, and presently became notorious 
 for his high-handed dealings with the natives. Later, when he was 
 transferred to a concern in another part of the country, he threw 
 off every restraint and lived in a manner which made it impossible 
 for married planters at all events to associate with him. He 
 managed to save enough to buy a share in the factory ; but the 
 indigo interest in Bengal was slowly declining, and after long years 
 of struggle against refractory ryots and bad seasons, Chadwick had 
 been glad to sell out for what he could, and the Bank had helped 
 him to purchase a factory in Behar, where the prospects of making 
 a living were more favourable. 
 
 In Behar he had at last begun to prosper, but there, too, his life 
 was no more reputable than before ; his unsociable manners and 
 irregular habits excluded him from such society as was to be had, 
 and Chadwick was perfectly content to be so excluded. 
 
 All this time he had not heard from his father, and but rarely of 
 his son, for whose support he had sent over small remittances from 
 time to time, but the fact that he had cost his mother's life possibly
 
 ENGLISH EXCLUSIVENESS 7 
 
 turned his heart against him from the first, for he felt no real 
 interest in the boy. 
 
 At last he heard, through the Calcutta Bank, that his father 
 was dead, and afterwards, to his utter astonishment, that he had 
 relented and left his only son a half share in a very handsome 
 fortune. Thereupon he had left his plantation to the care of an 
 agent, and returned to his native land, with a sense that his altered 
 position had brought new responsibilities,that he must leave sack and 
 live cleanly in future. So far, however, neither his money nor his 
 studious regard for the proprieties had procured him the footing he 
 had expected in his native land. At Gorsecombe, the village in 
 Pineshire, where his father had built himself a country house, he 
 had not found himself at all cordially welcomed by the local 
 society. Even here at Trouville, his fellow countrymen seemed to 
 have combined to relegate him to the enjoyment of his own society. 
 Once, in his reckless revolt against conventions, he would have been 
 resigned enough, but the isolation one achieves is very different 
 from that which is thrust upon one, and Chadwick resented being 
 treated as an outsider in this way. 
 
 He did not make sufficient allowance for the natural suspicion 
 and exclusiveness of the travelling Englishman, or the tendency of 
 a clique when once formed to be chary of admitting others into its 
 circle. And then, too, by a merciful law of nature which ordains 
 that none of us can know exactly what impression we produce upon 
 an unbiassed mind, he did not realise that his appearance was not 
 in itself a recommendation. 
 
 Chadwick was a big man with a face coarsely and floridly 
 coloured, bronzed by the sun, seamed and lined by hard living ; he 
 had strangely excitable-looking light-grey eyes, and a large, loose, 
 sensual mouth ; he was not positively ill-looking, nor was his 
 expression bad, though to a fastidious sense there was something 
 overpowering about the whole man which did not encourage 
 advances. 
 
 ' I suppose,' he said, continuing his meditations, ' I could find 
 ways of passing my time at a place like this, if I chose to look about 
 me but there's the boy to be thought of now. I'll give the other 
 thing a chance. Perhaps it's been my fault after all. I've been 
 expecting other people to make up to me, instead of meeting them 
 half-way myself. I'll go back to that hotel, and have another try.' 
 
 Strong in this new resolution, he struck up a little street under 
 huge white calico banners advertising pianos for hire, and up 
 between high walls and staring doll's-house-like villas, until he 
 reached the Hotel Californie, a large unbeautiful pile as architec- 
 turally characterless and pretentious as most hotels. 
 
 No one was in the big entrance hall except Mr. Liversedge, who 
 was asleep on one of the divans, a couple of enormously stout 
 foreigners, a husband and wife, who were sitting side by side on 
 another, panting like over-driven cattle. Through the glass screen 
 at the end he could see the heads of the group on the terrace out-
 
 8 THE PAHIAH 
 
 side. He looked a moment through the glass doors, and then his 
 nerve failed him it required more moral courage than he possessed 
 just then in Bpite of his resolve to go out and sit amongst them, 
 and risk an unmistakable snub by joining in the conversation. 
 
 ' I don't feel up to tackling the lot of 'em,' he thought, and 
 went out again and round by a lower path to a terrace immediately 
 under and out of sight of the balcony, where he might find an 
 opportunity of cultivating the acquaintance of a solitary Briton. 
 
 On this terrace, which led up to the balcony or upper terrace by 
 a double flight of steps and was laid out with shrubs and benches, 
 Fortune favoured Mr. Chadwick even beyond his hopes, for, although 
 there was no portly paterfamilias or sociable bachelor there, upon 
 one of the seats sat a girl of about eighteen or nineteen, evidently 
 English, and with something much more than the mere prettiness 
 of youth and health. He remembered that she had sat on the 
 other side of his unresponsive neighbour of the table d'hote, who 
 was probably her mother, and the mere facts that she was absorbed 
 in a book and that he had not been in any way introduced were no 
 reasons, with him, for not addressing her. If he could succeed in 
 getting on good terms with her, he thought she would smooth his 
 way for him with the rest of the English set ; at any rate, it was 
 worth trying, and so he drew up a chair, and sat by her bench for 
 a minute or so in silence. 
 
 Miss Chevening's face had disturbed the peace of mind of more 
 than one who still found it as impossible to recall it accurately as 
 to forget it. Her expression was constantly shifting with every 
 change of feeling, like a child's, and every change gave a new 
 meaning and character to her features. Her hazel eyes could rest 
 on you with the serenest and most mortifying indifference, or shine 
 with a frank sweet friendliness that was a patent of distinction in 
 itself for the recipient. Her beautiful flexible mouth had an habi- 
 tual curve of slight disdain, her manner to people who did not 
 interest her was apt to be curt, and to those who provoked her 
 anger, merciless. She was impulsive and outspoken at times, par- 
 ticularly in her dislikes ; she was fastidiously intolerant of common- 
 place, of boredom. At school she had been made the unwilling 
 object of passionate homage from enthusiastic school-girls, and she 
 had laughed at them pitilessly, though sometimes condescending to 
 make use of their devotion. As yet, those who knew her best 
 would have found it hard to say positively whether she had a heart 
 or not, in the metaphorical sense of the word, if it had not been 
 for the affection she showed for the younger members of her own 
 family. 
 
 All this does not perhaps constitute a very lovable character, 
 and it must be admitted that Miss Chevening's virtues and amia 
 bility had never made her friends at all apprehensive of her early 
 decease, but a lovely face and form atone for many shortcomings, 
 and gain for their possessor a regard often as little deserved as 
 sought.
 
 ENGLISH EXCLUSIVENESB U 
 
 Perhaps the past had done something to embitter her view of 
 the world. She had been singularly beautiful from her childhood, 
 and had always been accustomed to be made much of, especially at 
 country-houses, where she frequently accompanied her father and 
 mother on visits, and obtained a precocious knowledge of society. 
 
 She had been expensively educated at a fashionable watering- 
 place school, and although Colonel Chevening had been ordered 
 out to Afghanistan in the meanwhile, and was killed at Maiwand 
 when Margot was sixteen, he left his widow fairly well off, and 
 there seemed no reason why his daughters should not take their 
 natural place in society when they were of an age to come out. 
 
 Unhappily, Mrs. Chevening, who was at once ambitious and 
 extravagant, conceived the idea of increasing her income by specu- 
 lationwith results that may be easily imagined. She had to give 
 up her house in Chesham Place, and find another large enough for 
 her family and at a rent suitable to her reduced means, and, 
 tempted by its cheapness, she took one of the old houses which are 
 to be found along the river bank between Chiswick and Hammer- 
 smith. Perhaps she had expected that her friends would find her 
 out there ; or perhaps, in the first bitterness of her reverses, she had 
 been glad of a retreat ; at all events, she found herself deserted by 
 all her former set. Chiswick was too long a drive for them, and 
 they soon forgot, first her address and then her existence. Mrs. 
 Cheveninghaving chosen to take offence at aneglect which she might 
 have expected, had made no effort to keep up her relations with 
 her smart friends, and the consequence was that Margot, at a time 
 when, had all gone well, she would have been presented to her 
 Sovereign and launched into her first London season was living 
 the life of any young lady of the middle-class who had never 
 aspired to society. 
 
 Her devoted school-girl friends had come out and forgotten her : 
 her aunt, Lady Yaverland, who had daughters of her own, con- 
 sidered her duty to her niece and sister-in-law sufficiently fulfilled 
 by a card for an afternoon concert at Portman Square in the 
 winter. 
 
 One or two families at Bedford Park or Kew, and in the sleepy 
 old-world mansions which still resist the onset of modern bricks 
 and mortar, formed their only acquaintances now ; and Miss 
 Chevening's social distractions were all of the mildest suburban 
 order a garden-party, the lawn tennis club in summer, a carpet- 
 dance or two in winter. 
 
 As a rule she was something more than resigned ; she liked the 
 old-fashioned creeper-covered house by the river; she had been 
 more closely drawn to her sisters and brother by their altered cir- 
 cumstances, and the best side of her nature was reserved for them, 
 which is not invariably the case ; but Margot had a proud convic- 
 tion in the superiority of her own family. 
 
 Nevertheless there were times when she felt a vague discontent, 
 when she longed for a larger horizon than the one which lay before
 
 10 THK PARIAH 
 
 her. Memories still lingered of the days when the wheels of her 
 life had run with luxurious smoothness ; when, child as she was, 
 she had been surrounded with flatteries and pleasures. She was 
 as disposed for the pleasure now as then; she could not help 
 knowing that she had an even better title to the homage, yet the 
 world in which she had once thought to move knew her not, and 
 probably would never know her. 
 
 It was this consciousness of being shut out from circles in which 
 she was capable of shining, which gave her something of the bear- 
 ing of a banished princess, who found everything in her meaner 
 estate endurable but its pleasures. 
 
 This was the girl with whom Joshua Chadwick had somewhat 
 rashly determined to ingratiate himself ; and even he, though not 
 a diffident man in most respects, seemed to feel that there was 
 something rather formidable about the undertaking. 
 
 CHAPTEK II. 
 
 BREAKING THE ICE. 
 
 AT length Chadwick conquered his hesitation and began : ' I hope 
 I'm not disturbing you, sitting here ? ' he said. 
 
 The girl on the bench lifted her eyes for a moment with a slight 
 surprise, and then said indifferently, ' Not in the least,' and returned 
 to her book. 
 
 ' You seem interested in what you are reading ? ' 
 
 ' Very.' This time she did not raise her eyes. 
 
 1 Might I inquire the subject ? ' 
 
 With a charming negligent gesture she held the book towards 
 him so that he might read the title. 
 
 ' " Sesame and Lilies," eh ? A work on Horticulture, I pre- 
 sume? ' 
 
 ' Yes,' said Miss Chevening, with a fine contempt for accuracy. 
 
 ' Ah, the only plant I've had any experience of is indigo. 1 
 
 She did not conceive herself called upon to return any answer 
 to this. 
 
 ' Yes,' he continued, ' I ought to know something about indigo. 
 I've spent more than twenty years of my life trying to make a 
 living out of it hard work it was, too, and yet it doesn't seem such 
 a bad time now to look back on. I miss it now I'm out of it all.' 
 
 He was silent for a moment ; again he saw the cooh'es beating 
 the blue-green liquid in the great vat to a milky froth, and smelt 
 the pleasant fresh scent of the dye ; for an instant he was back in 
 the old life, with all its risks, contests, and hopes ; an autocrat in 
 his factory, a terror to villagers who shirked their sowing. Then 
 the vision faded again, and he was only a friendless Englishman 
 abroad, trying to induce a monosyllabic young woman to talk to 
 him.
 
 BBEAEING THE ICE 11 
 
 Her continued inattention exasperated him into saying, ' I should 
 fcave thought it wouldn't have done you any harm to put down 
 your book for a few minutes and be sociable; I'm not a great 
 talker myself, but it does seem hard to have been here two days, 
 with plenty of my fellow-countrymen about, and not a civil word 
 from one of them all the time ! ' 
 
 She closed her book resignedly ; she did not intend to let him 
 drive her away, and she saw that, unconventional as his manners 
 were, he did not mean to be offensive. Perhaps, after all, it might 
 amuse her for a short while to let him talk ; he was a new type, 
 and at least he was not commonplace, like most people. 
 
 ' I am quite willing to listen to you,' she said, ' if you have any. 
 thing to say.' 
 
 ' That's more than anyone else has been yet,' he answered. 
 1 Why, the other day at table d'Jiote I passed a man the salt, and 
 he was so afraid of its leading to anything, that he said, " Mercy, 
 m siew," knowing as well that I wasn't French as I did he was 
 English. I call that small-minded, don't you ? ' 
 
 ' Perhaps it was only shyness. Englishmen are rather noted 
 for being reserved, aren't they ? ' 
 
 ' Tm not reserved,' he said ; ' if anyone wants to know who I 
 am and what I am I'm quite willing to tell him. I've no reason 
 for concealing it. But half the people you meet are so mortally 
 afraid of compromising themselves by making acquaintances. 
 There's one comfort, I shan't be lonely very long, my boy comes in 
 a day or two, he'll be company for me.' 
 
 ' Is he crossing from England, then ? ' 
 
 ' No ; he's been travelling about the Continent, and I thought 
 I'd go over and meet him at one of these French seaside places, 
 and we'd enjoy ourselves a bit together before we went back. My 
 father didn't give me such opportunities when I was young ; he was 
 a hard man, turned me adrift for marrying against his wishes, and 
 there was I, all the best years of my life, toiling to make more than 
 a bare living out in Bengal. I couldn't do much for my son in 
 those days all the money I could spare went towards purchasing 
 a share in a concern, or paying off loans or meeting losses. How- 
 ever, my father came round before he died, and I'm a rich man 
 now and able to make it up to my boy. He's a good boy, too, and 
 considering how short a time we've known one another, it's sur- 
 prising how we've taken to each other. He'll want for nothing 
 now. I'm a richer man than I ever hoped to be a richer man 
 than most down in our parts, and rny son shall have a better time 
 of it than I had.' 
 
 Most of Miss Chevening's interest had been exhausted by this 
 time. Chadwick did not improve on acquaintance ; she did not 
 care to be the recipient of these sudden confidences, and found his 
 rough swagger rather more trying than she had anticipated. She 
 was distinctly relieved, therefore, to see her mother coming towards 
 them from the upper terrace.
 
 12 THE PARIAH 
 
 ' So here you are, Margot ! ' exclaimed Mrs. Chevening. ' I hav 
 been looking for you everywhere.' 
 
 ' Your daughter, ma'am,' said Chadwick, ' has been giving me 
 the pleasure of her society down here.' 
 
 ' Indeed ? ' she said coldly. ' Margot, I have brought you two 
 letters from Littlehampton ; they were lying on the portier's table 
 as I came through.' 
 
 ' Oh, at last 1 ' cried Miss Chevening, all her languor suddenly 
 becoming animation. ' Give them to me, please. . . . From Ida ! 
 Mother, look two whole sheets ; she must be really better ! ' 
 
 4 Pray don't let us detain you here,' said Mrs. Chevening to 
 Joshua Chadwick, who showed no inclination to go. 
 
 'You're not detaining me I've only too much time on my 
 hands,' he declared. 
 
 ' Then I suppose it is we who must find some other place,' said 
 Mrs. Chevening. ' Come, Margot.' 
 
 ' Oh ! ' he said, clumsily, ' I'll go. I didn't know I was intruding ; 
 thought the hotel grounds were free to all. But I can easily go 
 somewhere else, since I'm in the way here. Good afternoon.' 
 
 ' What a terrible person ! ' murmured Mrs. Chevening, as she 
 sat down by her daughter's side. ' You haven't really been allow- 
 ing him to have any conversation with you, Margot, have you ? ' 
 
 ' Ida drove to Worthing on Saturday, and wasn't in the least 
 tired,' was the irrelevant reply. 
 
 ' Dear pet so glad ! but you didn't hear my question, I think. 
 Were you talking to that dreadful man ? ' 
 
 ' Oh, a little, yes. At least he talked to me he told me 
 things.' 
 
 ' Margot, how very imprudent you are ; now we shall find it 
 very difficult to make him keep his distance. What did he tell 
 you ? ' 
 
 1 They have been twice to Arundel,' Miss Chevening announced 
 from her letter. ' Were you asking me something? Oh, well, he 
 told me that he had been an indigo-planter, out in Bengal, I think 
 he said. And about his son, who is coining to meet him here soon. 
 And how he was immensely rich, and could buy anything he took 
 a fancy to he was very full of his wealth and how no one here 
 would speak to him, which he seemed to take to heart. I think 
 that was about all.' 
 
 ' He seems to have been very confidential,' said Mrs. Chevening. 
 whose displeasure seemed to have already evaporated. 
 
 ' I couldn't help it, dear. I don't think I was at all en- 
 couraging.' 
 
 ' Well, tell me what Ida says.' 
 
 ' I'll read you the end of her letter : 
 
 ' " I can't tell you what a perfect time we are having here. 
 Reggie and Lettice are running about on the sands all day, and 
 have the most fearful appetites. You can't think how sweet dear 
 Hennie has been all the time we have been here really more like
 
 BREAKING THE ICE 13 
 
 a sister than a governess ! I wish you liked her more than you do, 
 because I think she feels that a good deal. I often ihink of you 
 and wonder if you are enjoying yourselves it must be such fun 
 being in a big hotel ; I suppose you have a dance every night 
 almost ? Be sure and tell me if you see anything very striking 
 in the costumes I mean, of course. Hennie has two lovely gowns, 
 and looks quite pretty in them. One is a," and so on "Don't 
 you think my writing is getting like yours it isn't nearly so 
 schoolgirly as it used to be, is it ? " ' 
 
 ' Miss Henderson seems to me much too fond of dress for a 
 woman in her position,' remarked Mrs. Chevening ; ' I shall really 
 have to speak to her about it when we get home. You don't care 
 about her very much, do you, Margot? ' 
 
 ' I think she's rather silly in some things ; but Ida's devoted to 
 her ; she couldn't bear to part with her now.' 
 
 ' I wish I could have afforded someone who was a little more 
 but we have to be so careful about what we spend now,' sighed 
 Mrs. Chevening. 
 
 ' You know I help as much as I can with the two younger ones, 1 
 said Margot, 'but I've no genius for teaching, and I don't know 
 nearly so much as Miss Henderson in most things. Ileggie is quite 
 beyond me. But I must read you Lettice's epistle she has a style 
 which is all her own : 
 
 1 " My dear beloved Margot, We all like littlehampton ex- 
 sessively, it is the greediest place we have ever been to, and we have 
 such glorius apetits. Reggie and I bild the most beutiful sub- 
 teranean cavuns in the sand, for pirits. We have not seen a pirit 
 
 3t to speak to, but there is a very plesant costgard along the cliffs, 
 eggie and I had afternoon tea with him yesterday in his cottage, 
 and he showed us all his meddles we are going again soon."' 
 (' I shall write to Miss Henderson, and beg her to be very careful 
 where she allows those children to go,' said Mrs. Chevening at this 
 point. ' I dare say she would draw the line at pirates,' said Margot, 
 laughing, ' though I believe Lettice would go to tea with Captain 
 Kidd himself if she was invited.') 
 
 ' "Yarrow sends his love ; he is very well. We have only just 
 forgiven him for killing a little rabit. Reggie is taming the sweetest 
 little teeny crab, he is going to train it to come when he calls, and 
 to walk strate ; he says he shall do it all by kindness. It can lie on 
 its back and play at being dead so prettily, but we don't know who 
 tort it that. I have a lot of new drawings to show you. Some are 
 Nativities and Anunciations, and some are mistical." ' ('What 
 does the child mean ? ' exclaimed her mother. ' Didn't you know? ' 
 said Margot. ' Lettice has been mad about the Old Masters ever 
 since she was taken to the National Gallery ; she imitates their sub- 
 jects now in lead pencil, and would be dreadfully hurt if anyone 
 thought they were funny. I never trust myself to do more than 
 glance at them.') ' " I have done a Masterdom of Saint Sibastion, 
 which is the best I have ever done, and very good. The day before
 
 14 THE PARIAH 
 
 yesterday Hennie and Ida went to Worthing, so Reggie and I were 
 left alone. We walked along the prominade and pretended we could 
 see you and mother over in France waving hankychifs to us. Yes- 
 terday nothing hapened except the arival of a bun-loaf about tea- 
 time. Reggie says he can't bother to write, so I'm to send an 
 apolijy. Isn't my speling very much impruved ? Do come back 
 soon. I think littlehampton must be ever so much more eniusing 
 than France is." ' 
 
 ' Peebles for pleasure ! ' remarked Margot at Lettice's opinion on 
 the comparative merits of France and Littlehampton. ' She is the 
 quaintest darling. But Trouville really is beginning to pall a little, 
 dear, don't you think ? Mightn't we finish our holiday with them ? ' 
 
 ' You are a most incomprehensible girl,' said Mrs. Chevening. 
 ' I thought, after all the anxiety and worry of Ida's illness, it would 
 be a pleasant change for you this continental life and you are 
 tired of it already.' 
 
 ' I am a little tired of the Californie, I think,' said Margot ; ' the 
 people are not very interesting, and we hardly ever go out of the 
 hotel, do we ? ' 
 
 'I don't care about sight-seeing, 1 said Mrs. Chevening; I'jand 
 there is the Casino.' 
 
 ' Oh, the Casino, yes ! ' replied Margot, with a little pout, for Mrs. 
 Chevening, although she took out the full value of her sixty francs' 
 abonnement, did not patronise any entertainment that could not be 
 seen without extra payment. Margot would have liked to see more 
 of the surrounding country, to visit some of the sleepy little towns 
 and the old homely churches, where the walls were covered with 
 tokens of naive and often touching devotion, and votive ships hung 
 from the dim rafters ; but her mother's tastes did not lie in thi/j 
 direction, she was content to oscillate between the plage and the 
 Casino, and seemed to find perfect satisfaction in the rather micro- 
 scopic talk of the Spokers and "Whipples and their set. 
 
 Mrs. Chevening had sent Margot lip to make her preparations 
 for the table d'hote, and sat for a time absorbed in meditations 
 which, to judge by her expression, were not of a cheerful character, 
 and which, using an author's privilege, I may indicate more fully. 
 ' It was a mistake to come here,' she was telling herself, ' a mere 
 waste of money. If I had taken her to Whitby, or Cowes, or 
 Folkestone, we should have met people worth knowing, some of my 
 old set perhaps but here ! Yet how could I tell ? The very best 
 people go to Trouville some seasons, it only happens that this year 
 they've chosen to stay away. Perhaps,' and here she broke into a 
 bitter little smile, ' it would have made very little difference even if 
 they were here. What young man with a name and position would 
 look at a penniless girl, though she's as lovely as Margot ? I was a 
 fool to think of it, and yet it would break my heart if she were to 
 marry some third-rate young actor or government clerk, and settle 
 down for life in Bedford Park or Shepherd's fBush. Sh ought to
 
 BREAKING THE ICE 15 
 
 marry a rich man, if only fof the sake of the other children. Oh, if 
 poor dear Hamilton had only been spared, how different it all might 
 have been ! And Gwendolen, who might have brought her out and 
 done everything for her, if she only would but she's afraid of 
 Margot interfering with her own girl's chances. I dare say not 
 without reason, for all those Bradings are as plain as pestles. I 
 wonder,' and here her thoughts were too disjointed and enigmatic 
 to be capable of being put into words, but at the end of a long reverie 
 she rose, and said aloud, 'Wasn't somebody Raying that Mr. Liver- 
 sedge knew all about him ? It might be worth while finding out.' 
 
 Mr. Liversedge was an ex-civil servant who had been high up in 
 the service, he was now a gossiping old bachelor with nothing to do 
 but flutter about from one watering-place to another, and tell stories 
 spiced with a pot-pourri of Eastern scandal. Cheltenham, Lea- 
 mington, the Riviera, and the Oriental Club knew him well, and 
 now he had come to Trouville with his hoary head and his hoarier 
 stories, to see whether ' the fleeting remnant of his liver ' would be 
 benefited by Norman air. He spent most of his evenings in playing 
 an Indian variety of ' Patience ' in the salon de lecture, and would 
 occasionally offer to instruct the prettiest married woman (for he had 
 a wholesome dread of girls and widows) in the mysteries of the 
 game. He had rather mistrusted Mrs. Chevening at first, and had 
 been careful to parade his anti-nuptial opinions, but his alarm had 
 now abated. She found him stretched at full length on a divan in 
 the hall, waiting for the dinner gong, and he was easily induced to 
 tell her all he knew about the stranger in the pith helmet. 
 
 ' Curious,' he said, ' how the fellows you don't care to meet will 
 crop up at the most unlikely places. I knew this Chadwick soon 
 after I joined my first appointment. He was managing a factory in 
 my division, and I was brought in contact with him occasionally. 
 He was the only planter about there I didn't get on with violent, 
 overbearing fellow not a man you could know at all. I dare say 
 he was soured by the way he'd been treated. Father had those big 
 shops in Wigmore Street Oriental warehouses carpets, Indian 
 wares, you know 'em. Well, this man fell in love with one of the 
 young ladies-in the establishment and married her. The old man 
 was a very strict and proper old gentleman with great ideas of class 
 distinctions, so he turned his son out of the business, out of the 
 home, and country too, for marrying beneath him. The wife died 
 soon after, before she could come out and join her husband, and 
 after that he didn't seem to care what he did. I had some trouble 
 with him, and we were very stand-off for some time. I got a 
 collectorship in the Moorshedabad district, flattered myself I'd seen 
 the last of him. Not a bit of it, he Irurned up as planter then on his 
 own account quieter, I must say, but still well, he didn't care to 
 make himself popular with the people there. I got transferred 
 again, and well, to make a long story short, I retired about two 
 years ago, and after wandering about a little, settled down at Gorse- 
 combe, and whom do I find there bxit this identical man ! It appears
 
 15 THE PARIAH 
 
 the old Chadwick, after living for years over his place of business, 
 suddenly took it into his head to build a house for himself in the 
 country. When he died he left the house and half his property, a 
 half share in the business, which they tell me represents an enormous 
 sum he left all this to our friend, who naturally allowed his indigo 
 to look after itself and came over to his new kingdom and here he 
 is, worth, well a good many more lacs than I shall ever be J ' 
 
 ' And has he no family? ' asked Mrs. Chevening, 'no one to share 
 all this good fortune ? ' 
 
 ' One son,' said Liversedge. ' I never happened to come across 
 him while I was at the Bungalow my place at Gorsecombe but 
 he must be a fine young fellow by this time. I forget whether 
 I heard that the old grandfather took him up and had him educated 
 or not.' 
 
 ' Very likely,' said Mrs. Chevening ; ' it would be the least he 
 could do. But how very odd that you should go on meeting this 
 Mr. Chadwick like that.' 
 
 1 Even here, you see, I've not escaped him went out day before 
 yesterday, and the first thing I saw was his confounded old sun- 
 helniet ! However, I keep out of his way. I don't want to have 
 more than I can help to do with the man.' 
 
 ' Well,' said Mrs. Chevening, ' I don't know whether it is the 
 way you have told the story, but, do you know, I feel quite interested 
 in him, poor man ! ' 
 
 How nearly, she mused, she had thrown away what for anything 
 she knew, might prove the very opportunity she was in search of 1 To 
 think that she had been discouraging advances from a wealthy 
 planter, with an only son who was expected to arrive shortly ! How 
 unwise it was, how wrong, indeed, to be governed by first impres- 
 sions. The father was not prepossessing, it was true, but it did not 
 at all follow that his son would resemble him. On the contrary, it 
 was likely enough that he would possess an education and ac- 
 complishments suitable to his expectations. And if this young man 
 were to make Margot's acquaintance, might not the happiest results 
 be expected '? It was a chance at all events, and one she could not 
 afford to neglect ; at whatever sacrifice to her private -feelings, this 
 Mr. Chadwick must be cultivated. Had she gone too far to make 
 this possible now ? She remembered the man's loneliness, his evi- 
 dent desire for companionship of some sort no, it would not be 
 difficult to conciliate him. But it must be done without delay, if 
 she waited until the son appeared, it might be too late. It was an 
 unpleasant necessity, especially after the opinions she had pro- 
 nounced, but that could not be helped. ' So long as it turns out 
 well,' she concluded, 'what need I care what the people here choose 
 to think ! ' 
 
 And, as a preliminary measure, she set herself deliberately to 
 forget all that she had said and thought which was at variance with 
 her new departure, such act of oblivion being a mental fact that 
 no renegade can safely omit.
 
 A HIGH-HANDED PROCEEDING 1? 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 A HIGH-HANDED PROCEEDING. 
 
 'I THINK your manner is a little too inclined to be forbidding, 
 Margot,' remarked her mother as they were walking down to the 
 Casino later in the evening ; ' it is almost as serious a mistake for 
 a young girl to make as the opposite extreme it really is ! ' 
 
 ' What have I done now, dear ? ' inquired Miss Chevening, with 
 lifted eyebrows. 
 
 ' Well, you were so very " snubby " to that poor Mr. Chadwick 
 at table d'hote, I really felt bound to make some amends to him.' 
 
 ' Is Mr. Chadwick the horrid man who would talk to me down 
 on the terrace ? ' 
 
 4 We have no right to condemn any fellow-creature as horrid on 
 so slight an acquaintance,' enunciated Mrs. Chevening. ' I often 
 think we miss making many pleasant and valuable friendships, 
 Margot, simply because we will be so exclusive.' 
 
 ' 1 thought I was so imprudent to encourage him not that I 
 ever dreamed of such a thing a little time ago ! ' 
 
 ' That is very different. I knew nothing of him then. I like 
 him, Margot ; I quite like him. Of course one sees he is not just 
 like other people, but a little unconventionality is so refreshing. 
 And he seems so lonely here, it is only kind to take some notice 
 of him.' 
 
 4 Well, you will see,' predicted Miss Chevening ; ' you have 
 raised him, dear, but you won't find it so easy to lay him again 
 we shall be always seeing that dreadful helmet bearing down on 
 us now.' 
 
 ' I think,' said her mother with great dignity, ' you may trust 
 me to check any encroachment, and, let me tell you, it is the worst 
 possible style to adopt that contemptuous tone. We are all made 
 of the same flesh, remember, all erring mortals here to-day and 
 gone to-morrow.' 
 
 'Ah, but he won't be gone to-morrow,' said Margot, who did 
 not relish the moralising turn of the conversation ; he's waiting for 
 his son.' 
 
 4 Did he tell you what the son was doing ! ' said Mrs. Chevening, 
 1 travelling about Normandy, seeing all the old towns and great 
 cathedrals such a nice thing for a young man to care about 
 seeing cathedrals I think. Shows such refined tastes. But then 
 he has seen so little of his father all these years.' 
 
 'You evidently think that accounts for it,' remarked Miss 
 Chevening maliciously. 
 
 ' I did not say anything of the kind. Mr. Chadwick is a very 
 pleasant person in his way, but his son is likely to have had more 
 
 c
 
 18 THE PARIAH 
 
 advantages in education and training one so often sees that. He 
 seems such an affectionate father too." 
 
 1 Is the son married as well, then ? ' said Margot, who happened 
 to be in a provoking mood. 
 
 ' You are a little dull to-night, dear, or is it only inattentive ? 
 Married ! Why, he is quite a boy, twenty-one or so.' 
 
 ' Boys of twenty-one or so do marry,' said Margot. 
 
 ' Well, this one is unmarried, and I was of course speaking of 
 the father ; he is very proud of his son, Margot, I could see.' 
 
 ' Is he ? ' was all Miss Margot could be induced to reply, and 
 the conversation dropped. Nevertheless she retained an unpleasant 
 impression of that table d'hote ; it had both puzzled and pained 
 her that her mother's treatment of the obnoxious Mr. Chadwick 
 should have undergone so marked a change. She was angry, too, 
 at the complacency with which Mrs. Chevening's advances had 
 been met, and the sudden and alarming development from a mere 
 table d'hote conversation to an established acquaintancesnri. Mrs. 
 Chevening, of course, had made no allusion to her recent frigidity, 
 Striving rather to render it speedily forgotten, and she had been 
 only too successful. Margot's pride was sorely wounded that her 
 mother had so compromised her dignity, and though she was at a 
 loss to guess her motive, she knew instinctively that it was very 
 far from being mere good nature or compassion. 
 
 Her presentiment that Mr. Chadwick would follow up the 
 advantage was amply fulfilled ; he stuck to them during the next 
 few days with a persistency that was almost pathetic, they could 
 go nowhere without the certainty of his turning up at some un- 
 expected point, and, much as Margot chafed under the infliction, 
 her mother endured and even encouraged it. 
 
 Under her gegis he gained admission into the English set at the 
 Californie, and his social quarantine was ended, but he attached 
 himself chiefly to Mrs. Chevening, which had the effect of throwing 
 Margot very much upon her own societj\ 
 
 It was on the third day of this unaccountable friendship that 
 her mother said, ' Margot, Mr. Chadwick is very anxious that we 
 should go over to Deauville Races with him to-morrow, it's the 
 last day, and he is expecting his son this evening, so we shall be a 
 party of four.' 
 
 ' No, mother, really,' she protested ; ' I don't in the least want 
 to go you must leave me out.' 
 
 ' Don't he childish, Margot selfish I should say for if you 
 won't go, I must stay hero with you of course.' 
 
 ' I don't see why but surely a whole afternoon without Mr. 
 Chadwick's companionship will be a little half-hcliday for us ? I 
 know it will be so for me.' 
 
 1 It was most good-natured of him to wish us to come with 
 him, and I can't hurt his feelings by refusing. Besides, I have 
 promised for you.' 
 
 ' 1 wish you would tell me what there is about Mr. Chadwick
 
 A HIGH-HANDED PROCEEDING 19 
 
 that you should encourage him as you do he seems to me a rather 
 objectionable person. Surely, mother, you must feel that he isn't 
 well, quite our equal in some ways ? ' 
 
 ' I detest that way of speaking,' said Mrs. Chevening sharply. 
 * Are you aware that we are little better than paupers ? ' 
 
 ' We are not too poor to choose our acquaintances surely. I own 
 to preferring people who have an average amount of refinement. 
 You are generally more exacting than I am.' 
 
 1 You choose to look down on poor Mr. Chadwick because he 
 has not acquired a mere varnish of manner you forget that he has 
 spent his life under great disadvantages, Margot, and I see nothing 
 so very unpresentable about him after all. But you need not see 
 more of him than you wish to-morrow, his son will be there to 
 amuse you.' 
 
 ' If he is at all like his father, he will not amuse me. Oh, 
 mother, can't you see that I would very much rather stay at 
 home ! ' 
 
 ' I confess I don't understand you. I should have thought & 
 girl, especially one who has had so few pleasures as you have, 
 would be glad enough to go, for the mere spectacle.' 
 
 Margot allowed this remark to pass in silence, though there was 
 the least little curl of disdain at the corners of her full lips which 
 sufficiently indicated her thoughts. 
 
 It was a chilly evening, and they were taking their after-dinner 
 coffee in the big entrance hall instead of upon the terrace as usual. 
 For once they were alone together; Mr. and Mrs. Spoker were 
 rocking on two American chairs side by side at some distance, 
 bickering languidly ; Mr. Whipple and Mr. Chadwick were smoking 
 on the terrace below with turned up collars ; Mr. Liversedge, 
 stretched at full length on one of the divans opposite the Chevenings 
 was engrossed in the workings of his digestive organs, and the rest 
 of their set were scattered in various directions about the hotel. 
 The foreign element was represented by the stout couple who had 
 scarcely breath enough for respiration and none at all to devote to 
 conversational purposes, and by one dejected stranger who was 
 pacing monotonously up and down the matting. 
 
 ' Don't you think we might be going down to the Casino ? ' said 
 Margot at last ; ' they are at least awake there.' 
 
 Mrs. Chevening assented, and they were about to go up for hats 
 and wraps, when the sharp jingle of grelots was heard outside, and 
 immediately afterwards the great black and red omnibus of the 
 hotel drew up to the entrance, its lamps blazing in the dusk. 
 
 The gold-laced porter came out of his lair on one side, the 
 dignified manageress left her bureau on the other, and prepared to 
 receive the latest arrivals. 
 
 ' Wait one moment,' said Mrs. Chevening, ' I must see who have 
 come, and if they look as if they would be at all nice.' 
 
 There was only one passenger in the omnibus, and Margot could 
 Bee him distinctly from where she was sitting near the bureau. He 
 
 c2
 
 20 THE PARIAH 
 
 was an Englishman evidently, and young ; a tall, broad-shouldered 
 fellow, with close-cut curling dark hair, and strong, rather stern 
 features, a very favourable specimen of the young Englishman 
 whom a public school and university training has turned out well 
 both mentally and physically. 
 
 ' Mr. Chadwick on the terrace ? ' she heard him say. ' Very well, 
 if you'll have my things taken up to my room, I'll go and find him 
 at once.' 
 
 He passed close to her with a brisk, easy step, and her eyes 
 followed him invomntarily, though he did not appear to have noticed 
 her. Where had he gained that air of mingled power and refine- 
 ment ? How did it come that plebeian -looking Mr. Chadwick had a 
 son like that ? It upset Miss Chevening's views on descent, which 
 were of a decidedly conservative cast ; he must have inherited his 
 features and bearing from the mother's side, she concluded. 
 
 ' I wonder,' said Mrs. Chevening, ' if that young man could have 
 been the son Mr. Chadwick is expecting.' 
 
 ' Which young man? ' was the hypocritical rejoinder ; evidently 
 Mrs. Chevening had not overheard him inquiring for Mr. Chadwick, 
 and Margot did not choose to enlighten her. But later in the even- 
 ing, as they were leaving the concert-room at the Casino, she said, 
 ' I suppose, after all, I had better go with you to Deauville to-morrow, 
 mother. I couldn't let you go alone very well.' 
 
 'I was sure you would be sensible about it, my love,' said 
 Mrs. Chevening, ' and you will see you will have a very pleasant 
 afternoon, if you only make up your mind to enjoy yourself.' 
 
 Margot smiled to herself; she was feeling tolerably certain that 
 she would have no reason to complain of boredom. 
 
 She stood some time at her open window that evening, looking 
 down on the wide crescent of lights along the plage, with the green 
 and red lanterns of the lighthouses on the pier and the electric haze 
 above the Casino, and it seemed as if the place were invested with 
 a new beauty for her, and she felt a dreamy pleasure in listening for 
 the long, languid roll of the waves as they broke below in the silence. 
 She did not care to analyse the causes for this change ; she despised 
 school-girl sentiment, and would have felt something like shame in 
 admitting that a passing glimpse of a stranger could account for this 
 difference, but nevertheless she found herself dwelling with a vague 
 anticipation upon the fact that she would meet him on the morrow, 
 and the probability that she would see him rather frequently during 
 the next few days. There was something in his face which had in- 
 terested her at once ; he looked older by some years than the age 
 her mother had mentioned, an age at which many are still raw and 
 undeveloped boys. Margot had met many of these latter at tennis 
 parties and dances, and never cared to perceive their open admira- 
 tion, but already she was anxious that this acquaintance who was to 
 be should not be totally indifferent to her. Her former antipathy to 
 his father seemed unreasonable, she was grateful to him for his 
 perseverance in cultivating them, and to her mother for her absence
 
 A HIGH-HANDED PROCEEDING 21 
 
 of prejudice in suffering him. Had her own wishes prevailed she 
 would now have lost all chance of knowing the only man for whose 
 acquaintance she felt the slightest desire. 
 
 She awoke early next morning with the same vague sense that 
 something not disagreeable was about to happen. The day pro- 
 mised to be a very hot one ; as she looked out she saw a veil of 
 pearly mist receding from the waveless sea ; a fishing-smack with 
 a sky-blue mainsail and red-ochre jib, repeated vividly in the glassy 
 water, had just been towed to the head of the jetty by a string of 
 tisherwomen, and was gliding gently out to sea. The sands were 
 almost bare as yet, though the boarded promenade rang with the 
 tramp of a few early risers. She felt impatient to be out too, and 
 about an hour later, after the coffee and petit-pain which form 
 one of the little luxuries of continental life, Margot was on her way 
 across the planks, intending to walk through the market while the 
 morning was cool. She was used to going about alone, and indeed 
 would have had no chance of obtaining the exercise she loved if she 
 had waited for her mother to accompany her. As she walked on, 
 feeling an increased exhilaration with every breath of the pure 
 morning air, she became a witness of a little scene which roused 
 her to sudden anger. 
 
 Immediately in front of her was a small French boy, all striped 
 collar and brown legs, who was being towed along with little vicious 
 jerks by his nurse, not a bonne but a maiden from London who had 
 been engaged, no doubt, in order that the young gentleman might 
 acquire an English accent of the utmost purity. 
 
 He was enjoying the fullest opportunities just then of extending 
 his vocabulary, and Margot could hear her shrill rating some 
 yards away. ' Oh, yes, indeed, it's likely, ain't it, as I'm gowin' 
 wherever you please, my lord ? All the world's got to give 
 way to a little grizzlin' bag o' bones, like you, is it ? Well, J ain't 
 goin' to be at your beck and call, and so I tell you you'll just go 
 wherever I want you to, and so you'd better make up your mind 
 to it j ear me? ' 
 
 ' Good Mam an said I may go attrapp the little crevettes and 
 dcrevisses, Suzanne.' 
 
 ' Oh, I dessay but you won't trapp no crevats nor yet no crevices 
 to-day, so don't you put yourself out expectin' it. I've trouble 
 enough with you as it is, without your rnessin' about with rocks 
 and pools, I can tell yer. You come and sit quiet on the sands 
 along o' me, and don't let me have noneo' your contrariness, or I'll 
 make you remember it when I gets you 'ome, so now.' 
 
 ' You are not good for me, Suzanne. And when Mam an comes, 
 I shall tell it to her how you are not gentille du tout du tout ! ' 
 
 ' Tell tiles, will yer ? Let me catch you making complynts 
 against me, that's all yer nasty little disagribble himp, yer ! ' 
 And at this the nurse shook him violently. 
 
 Now one of Miss Cheveuing's characteristics was a caste preju- 
 dice which, though seldom exhibited, was almost as deeply rooted as
 
 22 THE PARIAH 
 
 a Brahmin's. She was never arrogant to dependents, but she looked 
 upon them as a separate and inferior order, created for the conveni- 
 ence of their superiors, and this girl's coarse tyranny seemed to her 
 an intolerable piece of presumption. She quickened her pace, and 
 stopped the nurse imperiously. ' How dare you speak in that inso- 
 lent manner ? ' she demanded. 
 
 She looked magnificent as she stood there, her brows drawn to 
 a line above her great hazel eyes, and a brighter flush staining her 
 cheeks. The small boy glanced up at her in awe and admiration, as 
 at some beautiful but hot-tempered angel who had flown down 
 impulsively to protect him. 
 
 The nurse was less likely to be impressed by Margot's appear- 
 ance, and tossed her head, remarking pertly, that she supposed she 
 was not under any obligation to account for what she said to 
 strangers. 
 
 ' You are under an obligation to treat your master's child in a 
 proper manner,' said Margot. 
 
 Susan belonged to a type of nursemaid which is still not uncom- 
 mon in London, as a stroll through Kensington Gardens may con- 
 vince the sceptical at any time. Violent-tempered, coarse in gram, 
 with no understanding of, if no actual dislike to, children, she treated 
 a charge exactly as she might the little brother Johnny or Billy she 
 had dragged about the gutter in earlier days ; her affection was as 
 violent as her abuse, and she would have thought herself lowered 
 by the least concession to a child's wishes. In appearance she was 
 by no means a bad-looking girl, with reddish hair, a hot-tempered 
 expression, and a figure which, though not short, was clumsy. 
 
 ' It's likely as I'm to be made a slave of by a baby like that 1 ' 
 she cried. 
 
 ' It did not seem as if you were the slave from the way you 
 were talking,' said Miss Chevening with her haughtiest air. ' You 
 were certainly not engaged to make a slave of him.' 
 
 ' "Whatever I was engaged for, I don't require to be taught my 
 duties by you, miss,' said Susan. ' Come along, Master Onree, and 
 don't let's take no notice o' what she says.' 
 
 ' You had better listen,' said Miss Chevening, ' and you had 
 better be civil. I am not at all sure that I ought not to find out 
 who your mistress is, and let her know how her son is treated.' 
 
 Miss Susan's light eyes had no very pleasant look in them. At 
 this threat, not being aware that the speaker was the very last 
 person to execute it, she was subdued for the moment, however, 
 and muttered something about trying to do her duty, and hoping 
 the young lady would not make mischief. 
 
 ' That will do,' said Margot. ' Little boy, what is your name ? ' 
 
 The little boy, apparently dazzled by the lovely imperious face 
 that was bent down to his, made a little shrinking movement 
 towards his nurse. 
 
 ' He don't take to strangers, miss,' said Susan ; ' there, Onree, 
 the young lady ain't cross with you, only with poor Nana.'
 
 A HIGH-HANDED PROCEEDING 23 
 
 Listen, Henri,' said Margot in French, ' if you want to go 
 shrimping, you shall; you shall come and catch crevettes with me,' 
 and she held out her firm slim hand to be taken. What induced 
 her to make this sudden proposition she could not have told ; 
 whether it was good nature, or a perverse determination to conquer 
 the boy's affections, or the desire to teach this girl a lesson, or all 
 three combined. 
 
 'I'm not going to trust that child out of my sight to please no- 
 body,' declared Susan, who had caught the tenor of the words. 
 
 ' I shall not ill-treat him at all events,' replied Margot, ' but you 
 can follow us if you choose. Henri, you have a right to do what 
 your mamma has given permission for. Susan is only your servant, 
 do you understand ? You mustn't be a little chicken of a boy. 
 Have you got your net ? Very well, then, now we'll start.' 
 
 This little episode had an unseen hearer, for it had taken place 
 on the edge of the planks near a small bathing shed, beside which 
 sat a young man, who could scarcely have avoided hearing all that 
 passed unless he had chosen to rise from his chair and walk away 
 which, as the conversation was not of a private nature and amused 
 him, he saw no necessity to do. 
 
 The speakers themselves, however, were invisible to him and 
 he to them, and as their voices died away he had the curiosity to 
 get up and look after the figures that were moving towards the 
 rocks. 
 
 The girl's voice sweet, high-bred, and high-spirited had im- 
 pressed him strongly; the distant glimpse he had of a slender tall 
 figure appealed still farther to his imagination ; he wished he had 
 been able to see her face. Long after he had returned to his chair 
 he was absorbed in speculation as to what she would be like, 
 whether he should be able to recognise her if they met, and other 
 equally profitable subjects. 
 
 At last he could stay where he was no longer. ' They must 
 have got past the Roches Noires by this time,' he mused ; ' is the 
 tide corning in or going out ? ' He went up to one of the slates 
 which give such information "Haute Maree, 10.45 A.M.," he 
 read: ' it's past ten now. I wonder if they know that ? if not, this 
 is an awkward coast to be caught in. Suppose I stroll that way 
 it can do no harm at all events.' 
 
 Miss Chevening had not gone very far with her small protege 
 before she found herself wondering what had possessed her to take 
 charge of him, and wishing very heartily that she had left him to 
 his own devices. Her fondness for children's society was largely 
 dependent upon their ability to entertain her ; little Henri seemed 
 still mistrustful of her intentions towards him, which annoyed her, 
 and, unlike French boys in general, he was painfully, obstinately 
 shy. They reached the Black Rocks, where tiny crabs, apple- 
 green, olive, and orange, scuttled across the ribbed sand with the 
 air of persons late for an important appointment, but Henri showed
 
 24 THE PARIAH 
 
 no anxiety to capture one, making way for them to pass, on the 
 contrary, with courtesy. ' Faites attention, Mademoiselle," he 
 would cry, and squeeze her hand tightly, while the shrimps, pellucid 
 grey things that shot about in the pools or huried themselves in the 
 sand, caused him a very languid excitement. 
 
 ' Regardez-moi ces petites betes-la ! ' he exclaimed, and even 
 suggested, ' Dis done, si nous poussions ici le filet ? ' but nothing 
 would induce him to handle them when they were hopping in the 
 net 'like jerky little wet ghosts,' as Margot mentally likened 
 them. 
 
 'You seem rather afraid of shrimps,' she remarked at last, ' now 
 you have come out to hunt them.' 
 
 'They are damp, and they skip a faire peur I ' he complained ; 
 ' they are ugly.' 
 
 ' The crabs are pretty, at all events, she said. ' See if you can 
 catch one, and bring it to me to look at.' He ran after one, but 
 soon dropped it in dismay. ' It is not pretty it pinches,' he 
 announced with an injured expression. 
 
 ' I think if I were you, Henri, I would hunt only shells they 
 are quieter and not so dangerous, you know.' 
 
 'Yes,' he agreed, much relieved; ' and they are really pretty. I 
 will hunt shells.' 
 
 Margot began to find him wearisome. Susan, too, was a vexa- 
 tion to her, she stalked behind like a dismounted Black Care, in a 
 sulk which was sighted for a long range. Miss Chevening ignored 
 her entirely, but she could not help being aware that she was there, 
 and noticing the propitiatory backward glances of her companion. 
 
 She exerted herself afresh to engage the boy's attention, for her 
 self-love was concerned, but he would not be won, and she grew 
 disgusted at last. 
 
 ' It is not very polite of you, young man,' she said, ' to keep 
 turning from me to look at Susan I ' 
 
 ' But she weeps ! ' 
 
 ' Fiddle-de-dee ! ' said Margot ; ' I forget the French for that 
 but Susan isn't weeping, and what if she were ? ' 
 
 She is angry at me that I leave her, I am sure of it.' 
 
 ' I believe you rather like being bullied after all. I want to 
 make you stick up for youreelf do you understand that in 
 English ? no, of course you don't. Eemember this, you are a 
 little gentleman and Susan is a servant ; her anger unless you are 
 naughty (and -you are too much of a little sheep ever to be that,' 
 said Margot, privately) ' her anger is nothing to you. Do you 
 see? ' 
 
 But he didn't see ; he knew better than Margot that his nurse's 
 temper made a considerable difference to his comfort. ' Let me 
 run and tell her that I love her well.' 
 
 ' Ah, I think you had better go back to her altogether you are 
 a very nicely behaved little boy, but, do you know, you are not 
 amusing ? so I'll give you up to your lawful guardian.' And she
 
 A HIGH-HANDED PROCEEDING 25 
 
 stopped for that injured person to conie up, who, seeing that she 
 was being waited for, lingered ostentatiously, with a show of deep 
 interest in the horizon. 
 
 ' Susan,' said Miss Chevening, carrying off her sense of defeat as 
 well as she might, ' Master Henri thinks he would like to go back 
 now, so perhaps you will have the goodness to go with him, and 
 treat him more kindly in future.' 
 
 But the child spoilt the whole effect of this admonition by 
 running to the nurse and pulling her hand in his impatience to be 
 gone a fact of which Miss Susan was not slow to take advantage. 
 ' He knows who his friends are, you see, miss,' she said ; ' you 
 don't go down with him for all your high and mightiness, he's only 
 frightened of you. Never mind, Onree dear, the cross young lady 
 shan't have you we'll leave her to herself.' 
 
 Margot did not deign to make any reply ; she turned and con- 
 tinued her walk along the shore towards Villerville ; she was angry 
 at her failure, and a little downcast too, but the salt air soon 
 restored her serenity, as she went swiftly on, with her eyes on the 
 line of white specks just visible above the curved dark blue sea, a 
 line which was all there was to indicate the port of Havre. 
 
 Gradually she became aware of footsteps behind which seemed 
 hurrying to overtake her. Glancing up at the low brown and 
 green cliffs on her right, she saw no cabin or path in sight, but was 
 too proud to look round or betray any alarm at being followed in 
 such a lonely spot : she had not heard that Trouville sands were at 
 all frequented by footpads, but she was not quite comfortable riot- 
 withstanding. 
 
 ' I had better face him, whatever he is,' she decided, and turned 
 suddenly, when she found herself in the presence of the young 
 man who had attracted her notice the night before. She was 
 angry that he should have thought fit to force himself upon her like 
 this, and her face expressed its most chilling surprise. 
 
 ' I am afraid you think me very officious,' he said, ' but it struck 
 ine that you might not know that the tide is corning in.' 
 
 She was instantly reassured by his manner, which was merely 
 that of a man who had put some pressure on himself to hazard a 
 caution. ' You mean I ought to turn back ? ' she said. 
 
 ' Of course,' he said, ' I don't know how soon you wish to get 
 back, but it is a long way up the cliff and round by the road, and 
 unless you turn at once you won't be able to go back along the 
 shore without having some rather awkward rocks to climb.' 
 
 She thanked him and turned. ' But how are you going to 
 manage,' she asked, as he seemed about to pass on. 
 
 Oh,' he said, ' I shall find a path up the cliff somewhere.' 
 
 ' I couldn't let you do that very well,' she said, ' after you have 
 couie all this way to warn me ; you would get back late then. And 
 besides,' she added, ' I might find it difficult to get round the Point 
 alone.' 
 
 ' I shall be very pleased to go back with you if you will allow me.'
 
 ab THE PARIAH 
 
 She \vas not at all sure that she ought to have suggested it, but 
 after all, as she told herself, she knew who he was, he had behaved 
 very nicely, and if the tide reached the rocks round the Point before 
 she did she would certainly be glad of some help. 
 
 ' Then I think you had better conie,' she said carelessly. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 YOUNG MR. CHADWICK. 
 
 So he walked on by her side, a privilege which he had certainly nou 
 counted upon but had obtained in a perfectly legitimate way, since 
 the risk, if slight, was real enough. He was a little dazzled, not- 
 withstanding, now that he had seen her ; he had expected beauty of 
 the haughty aquiline type this girl's spirited petulant profile was 
 almost childish in its outline save for the rather ironical curve of 
 the firm mouth, and the decision of the perfect chin. There was a 
 frank directness, too, in her manner, a calm unconsciousness which 
 gave her a singular charm ; she struck him as a piquant combina- 
 tion of inconsistent qualities. 
 
 1 Your small French friend soon got tired of his shrimping,' he 
 began, by way of opening a conversation. 
 
 Her eyes expanded. ' How did you come to know anything 
 about that ? ' she inquired. 
 
 He decided upon perfect frankness, though he wished now that 
 he had chosen any other topic. ' I happened to be close by when 
 you rescued him from his nurse's clutches,' he said. 
 
 His grey eyes had a subdued twinkle in them, with which she 
 vainly tried to feel offended. ' I can't think what made me do it,' 
 she said, ' it must have seemed perfectly absurd.' 
 
 ' It was rather a high-handed proceeding, perhaps,' he admitted, 
 ' but, if you will let me tell you so, I thought it was very kind of 
 you to take the child's part like that.' 
 
 ' To tell you the truth,' she said, ' I didn't think about the child 
 at all, it was that woman's insolence which annoyed me so. I could 
 not resist putting her down.' 
 
 ' You gave the small boy a happy morning, at all events,' he 
 said. 
 
 'I have- not even that consolation,' she replied, with a little 
 sardonic grimace. ' I don't know which of us was more relieved 
 when we parted.' 
 
 ' And do you think he'll be better treated in future ? ' 
 
 ' I really don't know. Probably not. I can't say I feel very 
 much interest it was such a whining little animal 1 ' 
 
 For the moment he felt slightly repelled there was something 
 rather heartless in this indifference of hers. 
 
 1 Does that seem strange ? ' she added, laughing, ' after interfering
 
 YOUNG ME. CHADWICK 27 
 
 as I did. But I didn't know then that he would look upon me as a 
 kind of ogress, and be longing to get back to his tyrant all the 
 time. I shall not rescue any more little boys. Don't let us talk 
 about him any more. Do you know whether the races will be 
 worth seeing this afternoon ? ' 
 
 ' I really have no idea. Why ? Are you going ? 
 
 ' I dare say several people at the Californie will go,' said Margot, 
 ' and I believe we shall make up a party.' She would not betray 
 that she knew who he was, and he evidently was not aware as yet 
 of the proposed expedition. 
 
 ' The Californie,' he said, ' that is my hotel.' Miss Chevening 
 was grateful to him for sparing her any phrases de coiffeur on this 
 coincidence. ' I arrived alone last night. I had a friend, but he 
 got out at one of the stations after a delay of 20 minutes to know 
 how much longer the train was going to stop, and while he was busy 
 making inquiry at the buffet, the train satisfied his curiosity by 
 going on without him.' 
 
 Margot laughed. ' And is he there still ? ' she inquired. 
 
 ' Oh no, he came on by a later train without any further mis- 
 haps, rather to my surprise, for he does not speak with tongues very 
 fluently, and I quite expected to hear of him turning up at Paris or 
 Lyons or Marseilles, or somewhere.' 
 
 It struck Margot that there was a certain repressed contempt in 
 his manner of speaking of this friend. 
 
 'You were travelling companions till then, I suppose,' she said; 
 ' was it pleasant ? ' 
 
 ' Pleasant ? Oh well, yes. I suppose so as pleasant as could be 
 expected,' he said, rather dryly. 
 
 ' You don't care much for the Continent ? ' 
 
 ' Oh yes, I do, only in this case well, I'm glad it is over, it was 
 rather collar-work, and I did not quite know what I was letting 
 myself in for when I agreed to go with him. But I've no right to 
 bore you with all this.' 
 
 He was not boring her by any means ; she liked his cool manner, 
 and the very tones of his voice were pleasant to her ear ; there was 
 no effort or affectation about him ; he did not pose or fall into the 
 ordinary young man's mistake of trying to be brilliant, but 
 he gave her the impression of a cultivated and rather fastidious 
 nature, whose friendship once gained could be depended upon. The 
 more she saw of him, the greater grew her wonder that he could 
 have sprung from such a parentage. 
 
 And so, before the walk was over, they were talking gaily and 
 intimately, more like old friends than a couple whose acquaintance- 
 ship had been made in a highly irregular manner during the last 
 twenty minutes. 
 
 ' Here we are at the sea-wall,' he said at last ; ' and I hope you 
 won't accuse me of being an alarmist another five minutes, and 
 we should certainly have had to climb for it.' 
 
 'As it is, we have not even got our feet wet,' said Margot ; 'I
 
 23 THE PARIAH 
 
 almost wish we had had a little more excitement. But for one 
 thing I am deeply grateful that the tide didn't come up while I 
 was with that little French boy and his nurse I should have felt 
 so very foolish.' 
 
 Privately he thought this a rather egotistic view of the con- 
 sequences. ' Yes," she continued, ' I can fancy how that nurse 
 would have played Job's comforter, and how that little boy would 
 have let himself drown on purpose. I do hate being humiliated ! ' 
 
 ' I suppose,' he said, ' we none of us exactly revel in it.' 
 
 ' I detest it more than most people,' she declared. ' I would do 
 almost anything rather than have to confess myself in the wrong.' 
 
 He laughed. ' That is a very amiable trait in you,' he observed. 
 
 ' I suppose I am not amiable,' ehe remarked calmly, ' so perhaps 
 it is better to warn you at once.' 
 
 ' I should be more alarmed, I dare say, if I had any prospect of 
 finding out how far the warning was justified,' he said lightly ; 
 ' but I scarcely think I shall have an opportunity of discovering 
 even that in the time I am here.' 
 
 Amiable or not, he was thinking, it would be difficult for her to do 
 or say anything which would quite destroy her charm ; very probably 
 she was right in what she said of herself; in fact, he had already 
 arrived at very much the same conclusion from what he had seen 
 and heard. Wilful and ungracious and even heartless she might 
 be, but that would not prevent the recollection of the past half-hour 
 from stirring him strangely whenever it rose to his mind. 
 
 ' We are close to the Californie now, 1 he said abruptly, ' so I 
 will say good-bye.' 
 
 ' Evidently he has no idea how soon we shall meet again,' she 
 reflected, with a little amusement as she left him, and she looked 
 foward to enjoying his surprise when he learnt that he might spend 
 that afternoon, and probably several more, in her society, if he 
 cared to do so. That he would so care, she felt assured ; that she 
 would be well-content was a point she was equally clear upon. 
 A.nd so she came into her mother's room in the highest good- 
 humour. 
 
 ' You don't mean to say you have been out in this hot sun all 
 these hours ? ' said Mrs. Chevening ; ' you will ruin your complexion, 
 Margot, and your hands too ! ' 
 
 'You know I never freckle,' said Margot, ' and as for my hands 
 look ! ' 
 
 Well,' said Mrs. Chevening, not being able to discover any fault 
 in the pretty fair hands her daughter extended, palms downward, 
 in self defence, 'but you ought not to be wandering about the town 
 alone all the morning.' 
 
 ' I was on the shore among the rocks, and I had what ought to 
 have been a romantic adventure someone came after me and told 
 me it was dangerous to go on and I ought to turn back, so he 
 walked all the way back with me.' 
 
 ' I thought you had at least some sense of propriety ! ' said Mrs.
 
 YOUNG MR. CHADWICK 29 
 
 Chevening angrily ; ' how can you do such things, Margot ? What 
 was lie who was he how did you come to allow it ? ' 
 
 ' I thought if the tide was really likely to cut me off, it would be 
 as well to have somebody with me,' said Margot, ' so I made him 
 turn back too.' 
 
 ' You made him ? a stranger ! Do you know what you are 
 saying?' 
 
 ' He wasn't exactly a stranger at least, I knew him by sight. 
 He's staying at the hotel. He is Mr. Chadwick's son.' 
 
 Mrs. Chevening's face, which had been a picture of progressive 
 horror, suddenly cleared as Margot made this last announcement. 
 ' Yoii quite frightened me, darling," she said. ' I was afraid it was 
 somebody I knew nothing about. Still, I wish you would not have 
 these adventures you really must stay quietly with me in 
 future. Tell me about this young Mr. Chadwick was he pleasant, 
 Margot ? ' 
 
 ' He is a gentleman, at all events,' said Margot ; but her mother 
 divined at once that he had made a favourable impression. 
 
 ' Well, you had better put on your things now,' she said. ' Did 
 I tell you we don't lunch at table d'hote to-day. Mr. Chadwick 
 thought it would be pleasanter if we all lunched together a little 
 later. That pretty surah frock of yours will do nicely, dear.' 
 
 ' How fortunately things have turned out ! ' reflected Mrs. 
 Chevening when alone ; ' and she is looking her very best to-day ! ' 
 
 Margot took some little pains over her toilette, so that it was 
 slightly after the appointed time that she came into the hall and 
 was conducted by one of the waiters into a large room opening into 
 the salle a manger to a table which had been laid for four by one 
 of the windows where Mr. Chadwick and her mother were already 
 seated. 
 
 ' Well, young lady,' said her host, in his usual exuberant 
 manner, ' I hope you've not brought a young lady's appetite after 
 your adventure. Your mother's been telling me all about it. So 
 my young rascal has saved you from a watery grave, eh ? That's 
 enough to make him a public benefactor.' 
 
 ' It was very kind of him to warn me about turning back,' said 
 Margot, ' but I don't know that it was quite a question of a watery 
 grave.' 
 
 ' That's the way we look at the thing now it's over, is it ? ' said 
 Mr. Chadwick, with a resentment which showed itself through his 
 boisterous geniality ; ' I dare say by to-morrow you'll have quietly 
 dropped him out of the affair altogether. Now,' he was looking 
 at the wine-list, ' the first thing is what will you ladies like to 
 drink ? I dare say you won't say no to some champagne. 
 Garden, a bottle of that, and look here, just see if my son's lost his 
 way, and tell him we're in here, will you ? Oh, here he comes at 
 last. Nice manners, young fellow ; nice manners keeping ladies 
 waiting like this ! ' 
 
 Margot was sitting with her back to the big folding doors which
 
 UO THE PARIAH 
 
 a waiter had just obsequiously thrown open, and she kept her eyes 
 upon her plate. She was wondering how the son would carry off 
 the situation ; he had seemed easy and self-possessed enough, but 
 was he able to keep his father in subjection without a painful 
 amount of friction ? yes, she had confidence in him, that luncheon 
 would be tolerable now he was come. 
 
 The waiter drew back the chair next to hers with the usual 
 flourish, and not until it was taken did Margot raise her eyes to 
 welcome her neighbour. 
 
 As she did so, all her anticipations crumbled into dust the 
 young man who sat at her side was an absolute stranger. 
 
 That was bad enough, but it was not the worst ; even the hasty 
 glance she took revealed a person whom the most charitable would 
 hardly describe by the title ' gentleman.' Insignificant-looking, 
 with a white face, hair parted in a plume, mouth open loosely from 
 very evident embarrassment, a blunt common nose like his father's, 
 Allen Chadwick seemed to her in that first shock of utterly un- 
 expected disappointment, the most odious person she had ever been 
 brought in contact with. 
 
 The author, whose duty it is to see and describe from a less 
 prejudiced point of view than Miss Chevening was capable of 
 assuming just then, hastens to add that this face was redeemed to 
 some extent by a pair of eyes which were deep and honest, 
 with that pathetic look in them of a dog that only asks to be 
 tolerated. 
 
 ' Mrs. Chevening,' said his father, who evidently was perfectly 
 satisfied with his son's appearance, ' this is my boy, Allen.' 
 
 Mrs. Chevening bowed graciously, whereupon Allen rose, knock- 
 ing over his chair, and canie awkwardly round to her, holding out 
 his hand. 
 
 She was startled for a moment, but regained presence of mind 
 to shake the proffered hand, and say, ' Oh, how do you do ? You 
 must let me thank you for your gallantry to my heedless girl this 
 morning.' 
 
 ' Eh ? ' said the unfortunate Allen. ' "What girl ? ' 
 
 Margot bit her underlip. ' Mother,' she said in a low voice, ' I 
 I made a mistake it was someone else I met and took for Mr. 
 Chadwick ! ' 
 
 ' Iteally, my dear,' said Mrs. Chevening, ' you make mistakes 
 which are extremely annoying for others pray sit down, Mr. Chad- 
 wick, and begin your lunch.' 
 
 ' So you're not the lucky man after all, Allen ? ' said his father ; 
 ' well, you'll have to make yourself all the more agreeable see if 
 you can give the young lady a glass of wine and drink to her better 
 acquaintance. Stop, do you know her or don't you ? I haven't 
 got that straight yet.' 
 
 ' She she has the advantage of me at present,' said Alle-a 
 Chadwick. 
 
 Margot compelled herself to touch the h|nd he extended, and
 
 YOUNG MR. CHADWICK 81 
 
 ho spilt most of the champagne upon her gloves which lay by her 
 plate. ' I'm sure I'm very sorry, miss,' he stammered. 
 
 Mrs. Chevening was smiling with an expression of suffering. 
 
 Now we must leave Mr. Chadwick to enjoy his sole in peace,' she 
 
 said ; and he set to work in a tentative manner with two forks, 
 
 which from nervousness he seemed as little at home with as with 
 
 a pair of chopsticks. 
 
 Margot sat like a statue of disdain ; she could hardly bear to 
 think yet of all that the reality implied. What had become now 
 of her bright hopes, the pleasant flutter with which she had put on 
 her prettiest frock for that afternoon ? all for the benefit of this 
 uncouth, underbred boy on her left hand ! And who was the 
 stranger she had rashly accepted as a Chadwick, and treated with 
 the les? reserve as one she was certain to know under any circum- 
 stances ? How was she to meet him now, and what would he think 
 of her ? She was angry with herself, with her mother, with Mr. 
 Chadwick, and most of all with the unconscious and innocent Allen. 
 
 It was a most uncomfortable luncheon party ; a couple of Ger- 
 man waiters, one patronising, as if he had paid for it all, the other 
 morose, as if he expected to have to do so, only added to young 
 Chad wick's very evident discomfort. Mrs. Chevening, who was in 
 secret scarcely less mortified than her daughter, did her best to 
 promote conversation, and the giver of the feast alone was easy 
 and unembarrassed. He tried to draw his son out, but the young 
 man confined himself to monosyllables until the champagne loosed 
 his tongue a little. 
 
 ' What's become of what's-his-name Orme, by the way ? ' asked 
 the father. ' I told 'em to keep a place for him at the regular de- 
 jeuner know whether he went in or not ? ' 
 
 ' I don't know,' said Allen ; ' I'm not in his confidence. I 
 haven't set eyes on him even to-day.' 
 
 ' Well, there was lunch all there for him, so he might just as 
 well have eaten it. Remind me to go into accounts with him some- 
 time to-day, and see what I've got to pay for your tour, young chap. 
 There's no occasion for him to be staying on here unless you can't 
 do without him.' 
 
 ' Oh, I can do without him well enough,' Allen blurted out. 
 
 ' Orme's a travelling companion I engaged for him,' explained 
 his father, ' gentleman-like young chap college fellow, at the Bar, 
 and all that. But, somehow or other, he and my boy don't seem 
 to have got on together eh, Allen ? ' 
 
 ' I never said so, governor, that I know of ; he wasn't my style, 
 that's all.' 
 
 ' I made up my mind you'd fallen out when he came on alone 
 last night ; you'll be more careful how you get out to stretch your 
 Jegs another time ; it was a lucky thing you were able to come on 
 after all.' 
 
 Now Margot knew how her mistake had arisen ; her acquaint- 
 ance of that morning must bo this Mr. Orme ; she could well under-
 
 32 THE PARIAH 
 
 stand now how far from agreeable his travelling experiences must 
 have been. And he was about to be dismissed like a common 
 courier he was not thought fit to sit down to luncheon with this 
 polished pair ! She would most probably never see him again, and 
 her heart hardened against the person she considered responsible 
 for this sudden termination of all she had been looking forward to, 
 until, by the time the luncheon came to an end, she regarded her 
 unfortunate neighbour with absolute antipathy. 
 
 ' If you ladies have any finishing touches to put to your toilettes,' 
 said their host gracefully ; ' you haven't too much time. I told 
 them to have the fiarker round at two sharp, so you'd better be at 
 the entrance by that.' 
 
 Margot's first proceeding was to discard the pretty open-work 
 hat she had been wearing, arid put on the plain boating-straw she 
 adopted for everyday use ; she could not escape going to Deauville 
 now, or it would seem as if well, she must go, but she could not 
 resist indulging in this exhibition. 
 
 ' My dear child ! ' cried her mother, as she discovered the altera- 
 tion, ' what possessed you to do such a thing as that ? You were 
 looking so nice before ! ' 
 
 ' This is quite good enough for the occasion,' said Margot ; ' it 
 really isn't safe to speak to me just now, mother ; such a very little 
 would make me declare I won't go at all.' 
 
 Mrs. Chevening looked at her face, and decided not to press the 
 point. ' I am sure you wouldn't put me in such an unpleasant 
 position as that at the very last moment,' she said. ' I could wish 
 myself that young Mr. Chadwick had a little more manner, cer- 
 tainly, but you must have patience with him, dear.' 
 
 ' I know,' said Margot. ' But what I simply can't understand 
 is why you ever brought yourself to associate with such people at 
 all. Was it worth crossing the Channel to encumber ourselves with 
 two Chadwicks? They're not even decently mannered, they're 
 not amusing, and we shall never get rid of them any more as long 
 as we're here ! If you can see any pleasure in such a prospect as 
 that, I certainly can't pretend to follow you ! ' 
 
 ' We shall gain nothing by discussing it now,' said Mrs. Cheven- 
 ing, a little uncomfortably ; ' the elder Mr. Chadwick is quite well- 
 meaning, and I see nothing so objectionable about him, at all events. 
 I don't pretend the son is all he might be but no one, Margot, is 
 without his good qualities, if only one has patience to find them out.' 
 
 ' As if I wanted to find any of his ! ' cried Ma/got ; ' but there 
 I promise to treat him as well as I can, only I do think it ia a 
 little hard on me, you know ! ' 
 
 Down below, the two Chadwicks were strolling up and down in 
 front of the hotel. 
 
 ' Well,' said the father, ' you haven't sat down to lunch often 
 with a girl like that, I dare say.' 
 
 1 No, governor, I don't know that I have.' 
 
 ' And is that all you say, as if such girls as that were as common
 
 YOUNG MR. CHADWICK 83 
 
 as coppers 1 ^Vhy, when I was your age I should have found more 
 to say for myself than you did, I can tell you. You must make 
 yourself more agreeable if you're going to get on with the ladies, 
 young fellow 1 ' 
 
 ' Well,' said Allen, ' I've not been used to ladies of her sort.' 
 
 'I know that but what you've got to do is to get used. I give 
 you the opportunity, it's for you to make the best of it. Lord bless 
 me ! a young chap of your age ought not to be afraid of speaking 
 up to a girl ; the prettier she is, the more you should lay yourself 
 out to be agreeable. 1 
 
 1 1 shall never do it like you do,' said Allen. 
 
 ' You can try at all events. I've my reasons for wanting to see 
 you friends, and girls look for liveliness and conversation ; you must 
 make yourself more pleasant, my boy ; bless you, it's easy enough.' 
 
 Perhaps Allen himself was a little encouraged by his father's 
 confidence, but there was ample reason for misgivings as to his 
 chances of finding any great favour in the eyes of a young lady 
 of Miss Chevening's fastidiousness. A young man of moderate 
 abilities whom a cheap commercial education has just enabled to 
 occupy a clerk's desk in a warehouseman's oflice, whose home-life 
 has been colourless and mean, and his pleasures such as may be 
 expected when mind and purse are equally ill-furnished, is at some 
 social disadvantage, even when he has good looks and a glib tongue 
 on his side, which Allen could not be said to possess. 
 
 From his mother, who had died in his infancy, he inherited 
 a yielding and subservient disposition, which made him accept the 
 monotony and drudgery of his early life without complaint ; he 
 lived with his mother's sister, a widow who kept a small shop in a 
 back street, and who, kind as she was in her narrow way, had not been 
 able to make the little parlour behind the shop a very attractive place 
 wherein to pass his evenings. So he had gradually drifted into the 
 amusements and resorts of his class, so far as he could afford them, 
 though he had no actual predisposition to dissipation, and his 
 excesses hitherto had been rare and venial enough, considering the 
 nature of his surroundings. He was not without a feeling for the 
 beautiful, though he had always looked on it from afar, as something 
 in which, by the nature of things, he had and could have no part. 
 Sometimes when he read the second-hand novels which, borrowed 
 from a bookstall a few doors off, formed his only literature, he felt a 
 vague discontent as he faintly realised a world of refinement, a 
 society of beautiful women and accomplished men, but it was too 
 great a stretch for his imagination ever to conceive himself as the 
 hero of these romances ; tawdry and fustian as most of them were, 
 they smote him notwithstanding with the sense of his own insigni- 
 ficance. 
 
 And the cravings for something higher, some element of romance 
 or passion, to ennoble his sordid existence were always inarticulate, 
 half- unconscious, and would in the course of time have died a natural 
 death, or found satisfaction in some makeshift attachment ending in 
 
 P
 
 84 THE PABIAH 
 
 an imprudent early marriage, disenchantment, and_ a lifelong 
 struggle for bare existence had not Fate intervened in the most 
 unexpected manner. 
 
 He knew that he had a father out in India in some capacity ; J 
 aunt from time to time received scanty remittances which defrayed 
 his school and maintenance until he was old enough to earn his own 
 living, when they ceased, and he had been informed that his father 
 could do little or nothing for him in the future. Of his grandfather 
 he had never heard, for his aunt cherished a deep resentment on 
 account of the treatment her sister had met with, and so the great 
 change in Allen's life had come upon him with the dazzling surprise 
 of a fairy tale. 
 
 He had come back from the office tired and cold one snowy 
 evening in January to supper, and in the little parlour behind the 
 shop he found a stranger, so prosperous and generally splendid in 
 his appearance that Allen hardly believed his ears when he was told 
 that this was the father he had been accustomed to regard as a 
 struggling exile. 
 
 The elder Chadwick was a little touched by the son's evident 
 admiration ; he felt some compunction for having done so little for 
 him hitherto, his heart warmed with old memories of the dead wife, 
 whose timid, grateful eyes looked at him once more from his son's 
 pale face ; from that . moment father and son became more united 
 than if they had always lived together instead of meeting then for 
 the first time. 
 
 And Allen learnt the wonderful news that, thanks to the tardy 
 repentance of the grandfather, his old life was ended for ever ; he 
 was to go and live in luxury and splendour with his father in future, 
 down at the country place in Pineshire, where the old man had 
 ended his lonely days. 
 
 At first he had felt strange and bewildered under these new con- 
 ditions, but he soon became at ease with his father, whom ho 
 regarded with ardent gratitude and something very like reverence. 
 In the son's eyes Joshua Chadwick, with his florid manner, his 
 Indian experiences, and rough good-nature, seemed a superior being, 
 by whose confidence and companionship he felt more than honoured. 
 And the elder was satisfied with his son on the whole ; the boy was 
 not over bright, perhaps, he reflected, but he would improve, he 
 wanted a little travel to give him a polish ; and so, towards the end 
 of the summer, Allen was sent abroad with a young man, whom his 
 father, too much occupied by his affairs to accompany him imme- 
 diately, had engaged to act as Mentor, until he was able to join him. 
 
 Nugent Orme had accepted the post, as the fee offered was a 
 handsome one ; he needed funds, and his chance of professional, 
 work was not good enough to keep him in chambers for the whole 
 of the Long Vacation. 
 
 The engagement had been made by letter, and it was not until 
 everything had been arranged that he had a personal interview with 
 Lis charge, when he felt a shock of dismay at the task he had under-
 
 YOUNG MR. CHADWICK 85 
 
 taken. He had been prepared for some wild young fellow, fresh 
 from a public school or newly rusticated, who would need a firm 
 hand, but with whom he would have something in common, of 
 whom he would have no cause to be constantly ashamed. With 
 Allen Chadwick he found himself from the very first hopelessly out 
 of touch ; the young man was awkward, constrained, and, as it 
 seemed, sulkily reserved with his leader. He appeared to have no 
 tastes, no preferences, no interests ; he acquiesced when Orme pro- 
 posed that they should finish their tour by exploring some of the old 
 Norman cities and towns ; but the carven glories of Bouen, the 
 stately abbeys of Caen, the cathedral of Beauvais rising in splendid 
 incompleteness high above the clustered red roofs ; St. Lo, with its 
 twin grey spires and sleepy old square and streets, and Coutances, en- 
 throned on its poplar-covered hill, seemed equally powerless to draw 
 the slightest sign of interest or appreciation from this young Chad- 
 wick. Such remarks as he made only confirmed Orme in the com 
 tempt he felt for this barren and stunted intelligence. 
 
 It cost Orme a positive struggle sometimes to keep his im-, 
 patience and dislike from appearing too plainly under the constant 
 irritant of such a companion, and involuntarily and without his 
 knowledge something of his feeling showed itself in his manner 
 occasionally. He welcomed the end of his task with a relief which 
 he believed was fully shared by his fellow-traveller, but in this, 
 he was entirely mistaken. 
 
 Allen Chadwick was secretly dreading the moment of separation ;, 
 he had been drawn towards Orme from the very first, and had long 
 cherished the hope that before the tour was over the distance 
 between them might be removed. To Allen this young man, only 
 a few years his senior, with the fine clear-cut face and pleasantly 
 incisive voice, the easy bearing and air of unconscious superiority, 
 was a revelation. Orme was his hero, and could have made him 
 happy at any time by a word or smile that spoke of real friendship 
 and sympathy ; but he waited for them in vain. 
 
 Orme never snubbed him, but, as has been said, he could not 
 always disguise his repugnance, though it never occurred to him 
 that this was perceived ; nor would he in any case have given Allen 
 credit for enough sensitiveness to be pained by such a thing. 
 Nevertheless Allen did perceive it, and felt it acutely, although he 
 hid his feelings characteristically under a mask of sullen reserve. 
 He even tried to cherish a bitter resentment against Orme, and 
 think of him as a stuck-iip swell who gave himself airs because ho 
 had been to college. What was he, after all, but a paid dependent? 
 And then Allen would be as nearly insolent as he dared, which is 
 saying little enough, and would writhe under his senior's utter 
 indifference. 
 
 Orme noticed with a contemptuous amusement these feeble 
 attempts at self-assertion : what he never suspected was the heart- 
 ache that underlay them ; lie looked upon his charge as a hopeless, 
 cub ha whom there was nothing worth understanding : he did his.
 
 86 THE PARIAH 
 
 duty in keeping him out of mischief, and he was conscientiously 
 civil to him more than that he did not think could be expected 
 from him. 
 
 Allen had been very depressed now that the tour was over, and 
 the friendship he coveted further out of reach than ever ; but, aa 
 he waited with his father before the hotel, Orme's approaching 
 departure was far enough away from his mind. He could think of 
 nothing just then but Miss Chevening, remember nothing but the fact 
 that in a few minutes he was to see her again, that he was actually 
 about to spend the whole afternoon with her. She had awakened 
 all the latent romance in him, so long starved and denied an outlet; 
 he would have given all he was worth to be of some slight service to 
 her, to earn her gratitude in some unformulated manner ; he was 
 eager to give her a more favourable impression of himself, and 
 no suspicion of his own grotesqueness in relation to her crossed 
 his mind. 
 
 And yet, while he was secretly thrilling with a delicious ex- 
 citement, he remained to outward observation the same dull, 
 uncouth, and hopelessly uninteresting young man ; his father did 
 not guess the reason for his abstracted silence, and Allen was quite 
 incapable of translating into words the impression Margot had made 
 upon him, even if he had not shrunk instinctively from confiding it 
 to anyone. 
 
 Presently she appeared with her mother, and he could not find 
 any words to address to her. She seemed, he thought, displeased at 
 BOinething as she stood there ; but it only made her look lovelier. 
 
 He did not speak even when the fiacre started, and they were all 
 four driving, with the usual French accompaniment of whip-crack- 
 ing, strange cries and jingling bells, down the street, and along the 
 quay, with its row of yellowing limes, cafes, and masts. Margot sat 
 opposite to him, but he could not see her eyes for the sunshade 
 which she had opened, apparently not finding the white canvas awn- 
 ing above the vehicle a sufficient protection ; she was very silent, 
 but Allen was content to look at as much of her face as was visible, 
 until his father, who had been carrying on all the conversation with 
 Mrs. Chevening, gave him an admonitory touch with his elbow, 
 intended to remind him of his recent counsels. 
 
 Allen turned crimson, but managed, after clearing his throat, to 
 get out, ' We shall have it broiling hot on the course, by all appear- 
 ances ? ' 
 
 The sunshade was slightly raised, revealing her eyes with a kind 
 of haughty surprise in them. ' Were you speaking to me ? ' she 
 asked. ' I didn't catch what you said I beg your pardon.' 
 
 ' Oh, it's granted, miss, I'm sure,' said poor Allen. It is difficult 
 to understand, perhaps, why this form of accepting an apology a 
 far more logical and reasonable reply than the conventional ' not at 
 all' should etamp its utterer as one of the baser sort, but that it has 
 that effect is undeniable. Miss Chevening' s pretty eyebrows were 
 raised a little higher, her expressive mouth took a downward curve.
 
 YOUNG MR. CHADWICK 87 
 
 ' I was on!/ saying, and I hope I didn't interrupt you, miss,' he 
 vent on, ' that it looked like turning out a broiling hot afternoon.' 
 
 ' Oh,' said Margot ; ' yes, it does not promise very well at present.' 
 And the sunshade descended again, this time concealing the whole 
 of her face. 
 
 ' She's busy thinking over something,' he concluded. 
 
 She was thinking, truly enough, and the dainty screen hid a 
 quiver of passionate indignation. ' How can mother expose rue to 
 this how can she ? ' ran the burden of her thoughts. 
 
 The afternoon did not promise well indeed. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 VALENTINE AND ORSON. 
 
 She mutter'd ' I have lighted on a. fool, 
 Raw, yet BO stale ! ' Pelleas and Ettarre. 
 
 OVER a bridge and the glittering tidal river, past the railway station 
 and its lines of dingy rolling-stock, along a broad thoroughfare, a 
 region chiefly of factories and workshops, the fiacre jingled in the 
 stream of vehicles and foot-passengers, till it turned abruptly down 
 a lane and in at a gate, where two nuns stood beseeching alms, and 
 presently, after lurching and pitching over the turf, the carriage 
 drew up along the railings near the winning-post. The variety of 
 costume ; the little gardes municipales in their green tunics and 
 light-blue trousers ; the blouses of the men, the white caps of the 
 women, the tricornes and yellow belts of the gendarmes, the troopers 
 in wide, cherry-coloured breeches, the cures in furry broad-brimmed 
 hats, all gave an animation and shifting colour to the crowd, which 
 was as naively pleased with itself and the spectacle provided as 
 French crowds generally are on gala occasions. The fashionable 
 and sporting contingent from Deauville was scantily represented, it 
 being the last and least important day of the racing week. Mr. 
 Chadwick's hired rly was one of the few vehicles on the ground. 
 The steeplechase course would not have commanded much respect 
 at Sandown, and the temper of a sentinel who stood guard over the 
 highest hedge was severely tried by the behaviour of a small boy, 
 who leaped it several times in a Remus-like spirit of derision. 
 
 ' I think I will stay in the carriage,' said Mrs. Chevening, ' but 
 there's really no reason why you should be a prisoner, Margot, dear, 
 if Mr. Allen Chadwick will kindly take charge of you.' 
 
 ' If you'd like to take a turn, I'll take care of you with pleasure, 
 miss,' said Allen. 
 
 Margot had her own reasons for consenting, and as soon aa 
 Allen and she were at some distance from the carriage she began : 
 ' Oh, Mr. Chadwick, there is one thing I really must ask of you.' 
 
 ' You've only to name it,' said Allen, and his heart throbbed. 
 Was he to do her a favour alreadv ?
 
 88 THE PARIAH 
 
 1 It's only a trifle, no doubt,' she said, ' but I really cannot let 
 you speak to me as niiss.' 
 
 ' I didn't know you would like to be familiar all at once,' he said. 
 
 She shivered. ' You don't quite understand we are not likely 
 ever to be intimate, but but we may meet occasionally here, and 
 it is not necessary or usual to use any title or name at all. You 
 may call me Miss Chevening if you like, but not Miss if you do, 
 I shall not answer. Do you think you can remember that ? ' 
 
 ' Yes, Miss Chevening,' he said. ' I'm sure I'm only anxious to 
 do the correct thing, but you see, Miss Miss Chevening, it's like 
 this, I ' 
 
 ' Oh, please not any explanations ! ' she said hastily. ' I quite 
 understand and now, tell me, does your father mean to stay here 
 any time ? ' 
 
 4 1 promise you I shan't do anything to hurry him,' said Allen. 
 ' This is a regular jolly place, little as I've seen of it, always some- 
 thing going on it's like Yarmouth for that. There's nothing to 
 do in all those old Cathedral places Orine would potter about in, 
 and precious little to see.' 
 
 ' Your friend Mr. Orme seems to have rather different tastes 
 from yours ? ' observed Margot. 
 
 ' He's no friend of mine,' said Allen awkwardly. ' I can do 
 without his friendship well enough.' 
 
 ' Is Mr. Orme the sort of person you can't bring yourself to 
 associate with, then ? ' said Margot. ' Poor Mr. Orme ! ' 
 
 ' It's him that holds off not me,' said Allen. ' Not that ho 
 hurts me by it. I'm off his hands now, anyhow, and that's a 
 blessing for both parties ! ' 
 
 ' And has this Mr. Orme left Trouville, then ? ' asked Margot 
 tarelessly. 
 
 ' He's got to settle up with the guv'nor first he'll go as soon 
 as he can to-morrow most likely. He doesn't want more of me 
 than he can help ! ' said Allen, with a forced laugh. 
 
 ' Perhaps,' said Margot, ' you have not taken any pains to be 
 pleasant to him.' (' I won't have Mr. Orme driven out of Trouville 
 by this boor, if I can prevent it,' she was thinking. ' I wonder if 
 I could prevent it. 1 ) 
 
 ' Much he cared whether I was pleasant or not I ' said Allen ; 
 1 but there, Miss Chevening, don't let's talk about him. I've given 
 up minding all that now here are the horses coming out." 
 
 Margot could say nothing more, and she detested him more 
 cordially than ever at that moment ; she was in a mood to hate 
 everything just then, in her chagrin at the cruel trick that had been 
 played upon her, and having nobody to blame but herself, she 
 naturally felt disposed to quarrel with everybody else. 
 
 The horses came out, a string of weedy, long-tailed and long- 
 legged screws, to most of whom the candid statement placed against 
 two or three names on the oflicial race-card, ' origine inconniie ' 
 seemed equally applicable ; but their appearance caused a flutter of
 
 VALENTINE AND OESON 89 
 
 excitement in the crowd, and such admiring comments as ' Voild 
 le proprietaire lui-menie qui monte ! ' ' C'cst une belle bete tout 
 de meme.' ' Tenez, ca ne sera pas content de trotter, lui ! ' 
 
 It was not a very thrilling event perhaps, this course au trot 
 monte, though with any other companion Margot might have found 
 some amusement in the spectacle of some half-dozen French 
 gentlemen of various degrees of corpulence going round and round 
 the track at a hard trot which degenerated into a gallop at intervals ; 
 the favourite came in last, and an ill-conditioned dog added to his 
 jockey's humiliation by yelping derisively after his horse's heels, 
 ' II n'est pas mouille du tout ; il n'a pas ete pousse ! ' said the 
 bystanders, in charitable excuse for his defeat ; ' Fall it se servir 
 de la cravache, vous savez.' 
 
 Margot was just about to suggest a return to the carriage when, 
 as she glanced listlessly round, she saw her friend of the beach some 
 yards away. Would he see her ? Even if he did, she remembered, 
 he could not well do more than return her bow at least she would 
 bow to him. But he did not once look round, he stood there alone, 
 and she could not help thinking how handsome and manly he 
 looked, what a contrast he made to this little monstrosity at her 
 side. It was exasperating to know that he was going away in a 
 few hours, while the other, her bete noire, would remain. She was 
 powerless ; even if they met in the little time that was left, what 
 chance would there be of renewing that pleasant conversation by 
 the sea-shore ? She knew very well how it would be, they would 
 not even meet at table d'hote, for she would doubtless be condemned 
 to form one of that quartette of the morning he would go away 
 without ever having learnt her name. 
 
 ' You were asking me about Orme just now,' said Allen. ' If. you 
 want to know what he's like, that's him over there.' 
 
 ' Where ? ' said Margot, with well-acted indifference ; and when 
 she did at last succeed in looking in the direction Allen mentioned, 
 she said, ' So that is Mr. Orme ! Don't you think he looks a little 
 lonely all by himself oughtn't you to go and speak to him? ' 
 
 ' He's not lonely,' said Allen ; ' he wouldn't thank me for speak- 
 ing to him, I can tell you ! ' 
 
 ' I see,' said Margot, ' it wouldn't do for you to take any notictf 
 of a mere tutor, even though nobody here would know anything 
 about it. I dare say you are quite right, but it seems a little 
 curious.' 
 
 He flushed. ' It it isn't that,' he said, ' it's Orme that's the 
 one to look down. And I can't go and speak to him while I'm 
 with you.' 
 
 Margot's heart was beating a little quicker than usual; she felt 
 desperate. After all, Allen was not likely to see anything unusual 
 in what she was anxious to lead up to. 
 
 'If I am the only impediment,' she said lightly, ' that can easily 
 be settled. You can bring him up and introduce him to me if you 
 like.'
 
 40 THE PABIAH 
 
 ' Do you want me to ? ' asked Allen, hesitating ; he clearly did 
 not welcome the suggestion with any enthusiasm. 
 
 I said if you liked,' repeated Margot, a little impatiently, 
 ' I think,' she added with a slight smile, ' he will appreciate such 
 an attention on your part.' 
 
 ' He mayn't care about coming he's a queer sort of chap,' said 
 Allen ; ' and and what ought I to say to him ? ' 
 
 1 Don't you really know how such a thing is usually managed, 
 Mr. Chadwick ? ' exclaimed Margot, feeling angrier with him for 
 emphasizing her humiliation in this way. ' Surely you can say 
 that you want to introduce him to a friend of yours ; it is not a 
 very complicated operation, I should have imagined.' 
 
 ' I've never done it before,' confessed Allen humbly, ' but I'll go 
 and tell him that.' 
 
 ' If only,' Miss Chevening meditated, ' if only he doesn't make 
 some terrible mess of it it will serve me right perhaps, though, if 
 he does I ' 
 
 Nugent Orme was abandoning himself to the surroundings, 
 listening to the cries of the women who were inviting speculators 
 to take a one-franc ticket in their ' poule,' of the small boys crying 
 'Demandez le Jockey du Jour!' with a shrill and yet not un- 
 musical intonation, and the chorus from the bookmakers' quarter 
 of ' Un et demi le champ ! ' ' Egalite le champ 1 ' 'La place 
 d'Emidoff ! ' and similar sporting technicalities, when he felt his 
 arm touched, and turned to find Allen, with a very red face, 
 standing at his side. 
 
 1 'Ufio ! ' said Allen clumsily, ' I I didn't think I should see 
 you here.' 
 
 ' No reason why you shouldn't, is there ? ' replied Orme. 
 
 ' No,' said Allen, ' only I didn't. And I say ' 
 
 ' Well, what is it ? ' asked Orme, as he stopped in confusion. 
 
 ' If you don't mind, I I want to introduce you to a girl I'm 
 with. It's that one over there.' 
 
 Orme's face, which had begun to wear a curious expression, 
 changed as his eyes fell on Miss Chevening's graceful figure, which 
 he recognised at once, though he could not conceive how Allen had 
 managed to make her acquaintance. She was looking idly away 
 just then, and seemed so little aware of either of them that he 
 checked himself in his acceptance of the introduction. 
 
 1 Did you ask her ? ' he said, feeling no confidence in his pupil's 
 Bocial proficiency ; ' are you sure she wishes it ? ' He was too 
 proud, much as he wished it himself, to run any risk of appearing 
 to force himself upon her notice, especially with such a sponsor as 
 poor Chadwick. 
 
 1 It's all right,' said Ah 1 en, ' I told her who you were she said 
 I might do it if I liked.' 
 
 Allen brought him up to her, but here he broke down, and could 
 only blurt out, ' This is Orme.' 
 
 Margot was quite at her ease as she laughed and said, ' After
 
 VALENTINE AND ORSON 41 
 
 all, Mr. Chadwick leaves me to introduce myself, Mr. Orme. I am 
 Miss Chevening. Mr. Chadwick thought you might be feeling a 
 little solitary in the crowd, but perhaps you are one of those people 
 who never do feel solitary anywhere ? ' 
 
 ' On the contrary,' he said smiling, ' I am deeply grateful to 
 him.' And he put his hand on Allen's shoulder for a moment with 
 a friendliness which made the young man flush with pride and 
 pleasure. 
 
 Margot had her wish after all ; she had met this Mr. Orme once 
 more, and the afternoon was not quite a failure. Still it was 
 irksome to her to have Allen standing by, listening to every word 
 that was said with what she chose to consider a mean inquisitive- 
 ness ; in reality, he was only wondering, with a dash of envy, at 
 the alteration in her tone which Orme's presence seemed to have 
 produced. 
 
 Orme himself was on his guard ; he was cool and cautious by 
 disposition, and he did not intend to allow his head to be turned by 
 the fact that Miss Chevening thought fit to show him a marked 
 graciousness. He could not come to any decided conclusion about 
 her as yet ; for all he could tell that curiously fascinating manner 
 of hers with its abruptness, its candour, its simplicity, varied by 
 touches of irony might be that of a consummate flirt. He was 
 not sure whether in his heart he approved of her, but he felt the 
 charm of her nevertheless. She interested him strangely, more 
 than anyone he had ever met this slender, imperious girl, with 
 the hazel eyes and the gleam of bronze in her soft hair ; but he 
 must resist her, since he was going away next day, and her true 
 character, simple or complex, would always remain a sealed book 
 for him. 
 
 ' What is the next race ? ' she said ; ' au trot attele.' I wish I 
 knew which horse was the favourite it makes it a little more 
 exciting. Mr. Chadwick, I'm sure you know all about racing, 
 which is the favourite ? ' 
 
 Allen had been to Hampton once, and had seen some races at 
 the Alexandra Palace, besides betting with fellow-clerks to a greater 
 extent than he could always afford, so this appeal naturally 
 flattered him. ' That's more than I can tell just now,' he said ; 
 ' but we might go over to the bookmakers, and I could pick up 
 something from them, I daresay. Would you like to be put on 
 to anything for this race ? I shall be proud of the job, I assure 
 you.' 
 
 ' Thank you,' said Margot, ' I don't bet, and I don't care to go 
 amongst those shouting men on the pedestals. I only wanted to 
 know which is the favourite, if you could find out for me.' 
 
 Allen was transported by her tone and the smile which she 
 gave him. ' I'll find out somehow,' he said, ' though I'm not much 
 good at their lingo. I may,' he added with a flourish, ' do some- 
 thing on my own account.' 
 
 He went away, highly pleased at his commission, and when he
 
 42 THE PARIAH 
 
 had disappeared in the crowd Margot turned to her companion 
 with a smile. 
 
 ' I think I can understand now,' she said, ' why you did not 
 find your tour particularly pleasant.' 
 
 He had, of course, made no allusion as yet to their previous 
 meeting, and, in the altered state of his feeling towards Allen, her 
 smile, taken in connection with his willingness to please her, 
 seemed slightly cruel. ' I had no right to imply that,' he said ; 
 ' I'm afraid it was a good deal my fault if we did not get on.' 
 
 ' No, it was not,' she declared ; ' how could you do more than 
 tolerate such a creature ? I have only had to suffer him for two 
 
 or three hours, but even that . You must be feeling very glad 
 
 you are going so soon. He told me you were leaving to-morrow.' 
 
 ' I am leaving to-morrow,' he said a little sadly, ' but I am not 
 certain that I am glad.' 
 
 She would not have believed it, but he was not thinking so 
 much of her as of his pupil just then. Something had been 
 revealed to him within the last half-hour which gave him a pang of 
 self-reproach ; he had begun to doubt whether he had been altogether 
 just towards his late companion, had not been too quick to despise 
 him, too blinded by social prejudices to see such good points as he 
 had. His conscience troubled him a little, and he was generous 
 enough to be pained at the suspicion of having repelled his pupil's 
 timid and awkward advances all this time. It was too late now to 
 make amends, but h& reproached himself for having been so 
 blinded by prejudice. 
 
 Margot, necessarily in ignorance of all this, was well satisfied 
 that he should be sorry to leave Trouville ; of course, although he 
 could not say so in so many words, there could only be one reason 
 why he should regret it. 
 
 1 1 should be only too delighted if we were leaving to-morrow,' 
 she said, ' but I suppose I shall be condemned to many more days 
 of the society of Mr. Chadwick and his interesting son. The hotel 
 was not wildly amusing before but now 1 ' And she broke off 
 with a little grimace of disgust which seemed charming on her 
 brilliant face. 
 
 Orrne laughed ; the Chadwicks did seem a curious pair to be in 
 companionship with her ; he was not altogether proof against the 
 flattery implied in this confession of dislike for another. ' I dare- 
 say you will find means to avenge yourself,' he said. 
 
 ' I am not very patient when I am bored,' she confessed, ' espe- 
 cially by persons of that class. Do you know, Mr. Orme, I must tell 
 you though you will not consider it a compliment when we 
 met this morning I thought you were Mr. Chadwick's son. I did ; 
 I thought you were going to be here some time, instead of being on 
 your way home.' 
 
 ' I wish that had been true,' he said ; ' the latter part of it, at 
 least.' 
 
 If you had not put that in,' she observed, ' I should not have
 
 VALENTINE AND ORSON 43 
 
 fcelieved you nobody could wish he were Mr. Allen Chadwick. It 
 is a pity you will see nothing of Trouville,' she added ; ' it's rather 
 an amusing little place, and the surrounding country is so pretty.' 
 
 ' I have been here before, but it is a pity,' he said simply. And 
 just then the course was cleared for a race au trot attele, with 
 light gigs in the American style, which gave another turn to their 
 conversation. But the longer he stood by her side, listening to her 
 half-mocking, half-interested talk, the harder it seemed that in all 
 probability their acquaintance would last but this one short day. 
 
 It was not until the race was over that either of them remem- 
 bered Allen, and it was not Margot who suggested that they had 
 better see what had become of him. They found him, excited but 
 unintelligible, engaged in an altercation with the proprietor of a 
 nouvelle combinaison on the pari mutuel system. ' I desire rnon 
 monnaie toute la monnaie ! ' he was repeating; 'j'ai donn sept 
 francs, et vous donnez deux francs et demi seulement. Je 
 n'appelle ca un parry mutual, je dis ! ' To which the bookmaker 
 merely replied by a shrug of confidential pity to the audience. 
 ' Vous voyez,' he appealed to them, ' ca c'est un Anglais, ca n'est 
 pas dans le mouvement ! ' "Whereupon the crowd, particularly 
 those who had been equally unfortunate, laughed in compassionate 
 superiority. 
 
 Margot held aloof. ' If he chooses to make himself ridiculous,' 
 she said, ' don't let us interfere. He will be hooted at presently.' 
 
 But Orme went up and drew him quietly away. ' You're 
 no match for a French bookmaker, Chadwick,' he said ; ' better 
 give in.' 
 
 ' But he's done me,' insisted Allen ; ' I can prove it. I gave 
 him ' 
 
 ' And he's stuck to it, whatever it was,' said Orme ; ' some 
 bookmakers do. Come away.' 
 
 ' I'll tell you how it was, miss,' protested Allen to Margot, ' I 
 mean Miss Chevening. I went up to him ' 
 
 ' It's quite useless explaining to me,' she said. ' I know nothing 
 about betting, and I don't want to know anything. Hadn't we 
 better go back to the carriage ? ' 
 
 Orme took this as a dismissal, rather to Margot's disappoint- 
 ment. ' Then I shall not see you again?" she said indifferently. 
 'I hope you will have a pleasant crossing.' 
 
 ' Thanks,' he said. ' I am a good'sailor. Good-bye.' 
 
 As soon as Margot was alone with Allen she suddenly changed 
 her manner to him ; she was as nearly gracious as she could bring 
 herself to be. 
 
 ' I thought you said Mr. Orme was glad to go ? ' she began. 
 
 ' Why, isn't he ? ' There was an accent in his voice which 
 encouraged Margot in something she had resolved to attempt. 
 ' Has he been talking about it to you ? ' 
 
 ' Do you want him to stay ? ' she said, looking away as she 
 spoke.
 
 44 THE PAEIAH 
 
 ' I I should like it, if he liked it,' answered Allen, flushing. 
 
 1 Don't you see,' she said, ' that he can hardly stay on now 
 without an invitation ? But I think that, if you were to ask 
 him ' 
 
 ' Would you like me to ask him ? ' cried Allen. 
 
 4 I ! What is it to do with me ? ' she said, exasperated at the 
 thought that this hoor had blundered on her true motive. ' Will 
 you please understand that whether Mr. Orme goes or stays is 
 perfectly unimportant so far as I am concerned. I thought you 
 had taken a wrong idea into your head about him, and might be 
 glad to have it corrected. I am sorry I said anything about it at 
 all now.' 
 
 4 I'm sure it was meant kindly on your part, miss,' said Allen. 
 1 Of course I know you spoke out of friendliness to me, and I'm 
 much obliged. I'll try whether Orme can be got to stay. I'll 
 speak to him this very evening.' 
 
 ' If you do,' said Margot, ' you will have the goodness not to 
 mention my name, or I shall be exceedingly angry. You will 
 recollect that ? ' 
 
 ' I'd rather he thought it was all my idea,' he replied ; ' and I 
 do take it very kindly of you putting me up to it.' 
 
 ' Don't say any more about that, please,' said Margot, feeling 
 slightly ashamed of herself ; but she was gratified, too, for she had 
 now some cause for believing that she had not seen the last of Mr. 
 Orme yet. 
 
 Meanwhile, much of Mr. Chadwick's conversation with Mrs. 
 Chevening as they sat in the carriage by the winning-post had 
 turned upon his son. ' I suppose now,' he had said, ' there's not 
 much difference between my boy and your young lady, as far as 
 years go he's just of age ? ' 
 
 ' Margot is only nineteen,' said Mrs. Chevening. She was much 
 oppressed by the perversity of things in general just then ; was it 
 worth while, she wondered, persevering with her scheme any 
 longer ? Could she expect her daughter to marry such a completely 
 unpresentable young man ? The father was polished by comparison, 
 and yet she would not have suffered him but for her hasty con- 
 clusion that his son would most probably be found to have escaped 
 all trace of vulgarity, and be a young Englishman of the ordinary 
 type, well-looking and well-educated. The reality had gone some 
 way to cause her to lose heart ; and yet these Chadwicks were 
 extremely well off, if Margot could bring herself to tolerate him, a 
 load of anxiety would fall from her shoulders. Mrs. Chevening 
 thought of her growing family and increasing expenses ; what a help 
 Margot might be to them all if only she would ! 
 
 4 Nineteen,' said Chadwick, ' and admirers by the dozen already, 
 I daresay? Does she happen to favour any one in particular, so far 
 as you are aware, that is ? ' 
 
 Mrs. Chevening closed her eyes for a moment : 'I have co reason 
 for supposing so.' she said faintly.
 
 VALENTINE AND ORSON 45 
 
 I Difficult to please, perhaps ? ' suggested Chadwick. 
 
 Mrs. Chevening, not finding any immediate answer to this, took 
 refuge in one of those inarticulate murmurs which are so useful in 
 such emergencies. 
 
 ' Oh, I'm not blaming her, if she is,' he said. ' It's only natural 
 she should know her own value. I've not seen anyone since I've 
 been back in the old country, to come near her in looks.' 
 
 I 1 think she is pretty,' Mrs. Chevening admitted complacently. 
 1 People seem to admire her, certainly. But beauty is such a mere 
 accident.' 
 
 ' It's the kind of accident a good many would like to meet with,' 
 he said. ' Now, my boy his face will never make his fortune. But 
 for all that, he's a real good fellow, and so you would say if you knew 
 him as well as I do ! ' 
 
 ' That I can quite believe.' 
 
 ' He's not been much used to ladies' society,' said Chadwick, 
 'but perhaps he's none the worse for that,' he added, as if to 
 counteract any air of apology in his tone. 
 
 'At all events, it is a deficiency so easily overcome, isn't 
 it?' 
 
 ' "Well, it's not everybody I'd say so much to, but I don't think 
 it would do him any harm if he saw a little of a nice, well-brought- 
 up girl such as your young lady for instance. I shouldn't have 
 any objection to hia going about with her. And it makes it livelier 
 for her, too, having a companion of the opposite sex.' 
 
 ' I think my daughter is perfectly happy so long as she is with 
 me,' said Mrs. Chevening, with a touch of dignity. 
 
 ' Oh, no doubt, no doubt. Still, it isn't quite the same thing, is 
 it? And, judging by the time they've been away together, they 
 seem to have hit it off already.' 
 
 Mrs. Chevening kept her private doubts to herself, but presently 
 when Allen and Margot returned, the restored animation and good- 
 humour in her face afforded her mother an agreeable surprise ; so 
 long as she did not take one of her inveterate dislikes, things were 
 not hopeless. 
 
 Soon afterwards the last race a steeplechase over very mild 
 obstacles was run without any mishaps occurring to invest it with 
 excitement, and then the drum beat to disperse the crowd, which 
 streamed peacefully homewards, well satisfied with the afternoon's 
 sport, and the fly earned Mr. Chadwick and his party through the 
 long shadows and slanting red sunlight back to the Californie. 
 
 Margot's anticipations were justified : they dined apart that 
 evening, after the table d'hote, at which Nugent Orme had taken his 
 place, not without a hope of seeing her again. She was not there, 
 and he felt that it was on the whole better for his peace of mind. 
 He was smoking a cigarette in the dusk in front of the hotel when 
 Allen came out and sat down on the bench by his side. 
 
 For some time he was silent, but at length he said, ' I say, I wish 
 we'd got on better together while we were away.'
 
 40 THE PARIAH 
 
 ' We got on pretty well together, didn't we ? ' said Orme, not 
 knowing quite what to say. 
 
 ' We were never what you may call thick,' said Allen ; ' I know* 
 I've not had your education and all that. It's natural you should 
 hold off from me.' 
 
 ' If I ever did or said anything to make you think that, my dear 
 fellow,' said Orme, ' I can only say I'm heartily sorry. You see, you 
 rather kept me at a distance yourself.' 
 
 This view of the case was rather soothing to Allen. ' I wasn't 
 going to force my friendship where it didn't seem wanted, 1 he said ; 
 1 that was why I kept to myself pretty much.' 
 
 ' Well,' said Orme, with a little sigh, ' we shall know better 
 another time, eh, Chadwick ? I'm sorry we didn't learn to under- 
 stand one another sooner. Where is your father, do you know ? I 
 must go into matters with him some time this evening.' 
 
 ' Father's on the balcony with Mrs. Chevening and the others,' 
 said Allen ; ' and what I wanted to speak about was this, Orme 
 you're not oblirjcd to go to-morrow, are you ? ' 
 
 1 1 don't think your father expects me to stay on any longer,' 
 eaid Orme. 
 
 ' Oh, I spoke to him about that ; he said I might ask you, and- - 
 and I wish you'd stay.' 
 
 Stay and see more of Miss Chevening ; was it prudent ? and 
 yet, there was nothing to call him back to his new chambers at pre- 
 sent ; would he not be ungracious in thrusting back Allen's offer of 
 friendship ? They could never, perhaps, be friends in the truest sense 
 of the word, but he might do something to atone for his past super- 
 ciliousness. 
 
 He had been gained by the other's evident desire to win his 
 liking, a desire which he had never suspected till that day. To ask 
 how far the prospect of meeting Miss Chevening contributed to 
 influence him were to consider too curiously, but this change of feel- 
 ing towards Allen was genuine enough. 
 
 ' I'll stay with pleasure,' he said warmly ; ' it's kind of you to 
 wish it.' 
 
 Allen's heart swelled with a great joy ; he had scarcely hoped to 
 be met like this, and felt bigger in his own estimation. ' I'm glad 
 you'll stay,' he said : ' I'm glad you don't mind being friends.' 
 
 And the two shook hands. It was a singular result to follow the 
 caprice of a self-willed girl, this establishment of a better under- 
 standing between two such natures as those of Allen and Orme ; 
 but though it brought, about the conclusion she wished, she had not 
 designed it, nor would she have been interested by so unimportant 
 a matter.
 
 BO YOUNG AND SO UN-TENDEB 47 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 SO YOUNG AND SO UN-TENDEB I 
 
 What right can you have, God's other works to scorn, despise . . . revile 
 
 them 
 
 In the gross as mere men broadly not as noble men, forsooth, 
 But as Pariahs of the outer world, forbidden to assoil them 
 In the hope of living dying, near that sweetness of your mouth ? 
 
 Lady Geraldine's Courtship. 
 
 NUGENT ORME stayed on at Trouville as Mr. Chadwick's guest, but 
 somehow he did not find as many opportunities as he had hoped for 
 of improving his acquaintance with Miss Chevening. Her mother 
 had shown him especial civility, and had introduced him to many 
 of her friends, the Whipples in particular ; his chair was placed next 
 Miss Magnolia's at table d'hote, an arrangement which did not dis- : 
 please that young lady. But he never found his seat near Margot's, 
 and such conversations as he had with her were short and semi- 
 public. 
 
 As for Margot, without very well knowing how it was or how to 
 avoid it, she found herself constantly paired off with the obnoxious 
 Allen, who would not see how intensely she disliked his companion- 
 ship ; his shyness was wearing off a little which made her detest 
 him all the more ; she raged in secret, and at last expostulated 
 openly with her mother. 
 
 ' It is improving him so wonderfully, darling,' was all Mrs. Che- 
 vening could find to say. 
 
 ' It is not improving me it is driving me nearly insane. I 
 simply cannot stand him, mother.' 
 
 4 You wouldn't say so if you knew how it pleases his father he 
 feels how incomplete his son's training has been, and is so glad for 
 him to be with you.' 
 
 ' ^ 'hy should I complete other people's sons, dear ? and why do 
 you care whether Mr. Chadwick is pleased or not ? ' 
 
 ' It should be enough for you that I do wish it,' answered 
 Mrs. Chevening with a rather weak assertion of her authority. 4 We 
 are not so surrounded by friends, my dear, that we can afford to 
 offend people who are only too willing to show us every kindness. 
 If you had a little more heart, Margot, you would be touched by 
 that poor boy's anxiety to please you, you would indeed ! ' 
 
 ' I suppose I haven't any heart, dear, for it only irritates me. 
 And the worst of it is, I can't make him see it ; some day I shall 
 speak so plainly that even he will have no excuse for not under- 
 standing.' 
 
 Mrs. Chevening flushed with unmistakable anger. ' Listen to 
 me, you heedless girl,' she cri^d. ' J forbid you I forbid you to
 
 48 THE PARIAH 
 
 eay anything insulting to that young man ! Think what you please 
 of him, since you are determined to dislike him, but behave decently 
 to him in public you must and shall. It is not a great deal to ask 
 of you, after all the expense I have incurred in coming here solely 
 on your account. I thought it would be a pleasant change for you 
 and this is my reward ! ' 
 
 Margot dreaded a burst of tears at this point, and hastened to 
 make a timely capitulation. ' There, mother dear,' she said, ' don't 
 scold me. I'm not really going to be naughty. Why, if you wished 
 it, I'd walk about Trouville with a bear ; indeed, a nice brown 
 sleepy bear wouldn't be nearly so never mind. I'll make the best 
 of the the other animal, the bete noire. But I do think that I 
 ought to be allowed to abuse him when he's not to hear me.' 
 
 She looked so charming as she stood there, with a half-humorous 
 protest beneath her suppliant expression, that her mother's dis- 
 pleasure was appeased. 
 
 ' Ah, Margot,' she said with a sigh, ' if you only knew your own 
 power ! ' 
 
 1 That's exactly what they say of wild beasts in a cage, dear. 
 Would you like to put me in a cage ? ' 
 
 ' You have no right to say such things,' cried Mrs. Chevening, 
 when you know I am only anxious for your good for the good of 
 you all. It is unkind and ungrateful of you to talk to me about 
 cages.' 
 
 Margot stared. '"Why, I meant nothing what could I mean ? 
 Evidently this isn't one of my lucky mornings. Come down and 
 sit on the sands somewhere, and you shall see how good I 
 can be.' 
 
 On that occasion, as it happened, Miss Chevening was spared 
 from proving the genuineness of her good intentions. Under one 
 of the giant umbrellas they found the Spokers. ' I've been trying 
 to induce Alfred to bathe,' Mrs. Spoker announced, 'but he's afraid 
 of my finding out how badly he swims. He says he has his tub 
 every morning, but I believe he stands outside and splashes.' 
 
 ' Sea-bathing doesn't agree with me,' said Mr. Spoker. 
 
 ' I think perhaps he is right about that,' remarked his wife 
 impartially, ' because he bathed once when we were at Torquay on 
 our honeymoon, and he was perfectly green all day. I shall always 
 think of him pale green with a bright crimson nose,' she went on 
 cheerfully ; ' yes, you ivere like that, dear. I very nearly packed 
 up and went home at once.' 
 
 ' Why didn't you tell me ? I would have done all the packing 
 for you,' said her husband. 
 
 ' I thought it was my duty to bear you, whatever colours you 
 turned,' she said ; ' and I must say he has never looked quite so 
 like a dying dolphin since. But you are dreadfully odd and peculiar, 
 Alfred, in lots of ways." 
 
 She was proceeding to describe her astonishment on first seeing 
 Alfred scrubbing the top of his head with a nail-brush, when one ol
 
 SO YOUNG AND SO UN-TENDER 49 
 
 the opera-bcmffeish cabanes caine creaking and jolting over the 
 Band and stopped a few paces off. 
 
 'There's young Mr. Chadwick,' said Mrs. Chevening. 'Mrs. 
 Spoker, do you know that it's market day ? Wouldn't it be pleasant 
 for you and Mr. Spoker, and Margot and 
 
 ' Oh, and there's that nice Mr. Orme, too,' cried Mrs. Spoker; 
 ' delightful ! No, Alfred, I shan't let you come, five's an awkward 
 number ; you must stay and amuse Mrs. Chevening, she hasn't 
 heard all your stories. Mr. Orme will take care of me.' 
 
 Probably Mrs. Spoker had some idea of the truth, and was 
 mischievous enough to thwart any schemes Mrs. Chevening might 
 be entertaining ; or else she gathered from Miss Chevening's ex- 
 pression that she would be grateful for a little relief from young 
 Mr. Chadwick's society, and had the goodnature to oblige her. At 
 all events the four had not proceeded far before Mrs. Spoker had 
 effected a transfer of partners, and Orme found himself assigned to 
 Margot. 
 
 It pleased her to express some surprise at his being still at 
 Trouville. ' I thought you left yesterday or the day before,' she 
 said. 'I haven't seen you anywhere.' 
 
 ' I'm afraid that was because it did not occur to you to look. I 
 was at table d'hote.' 
 
 ' Oh, so you were, I remember now you were sitting by the 
 Whipples. I hope you found them entertaining ? ' 
 
 ' Very.' 
 
 ' Miss Whipple is amusing when you like that kind of thing. 
 Well, I wish I had been in as pleasant company as you appear to 
 have been. I haven't been amused at all. Mr. Orme, tell me, 
 weren't you induced to stay on here by the prospect of having some 
 more of Mr. Allen Chadwick's society ? ' 
 
 ' I stayed on his invitation,' he replied. 
 
 ' I wish you could manage to enjoy a little more of it, because 
 I seem to have monopolised it at present, and I don't want to be 
 selfish.' 
 
 ' If I have had less of it than I might have expected that is 
 really not my fault.' 
 
 ' You mean that it is mine ? What I must have been depriving 
 you of ! Have you been very inconsolable ? ' 
 
 ' I think I ought to tell you,' he said, ' I'm afraid I gave you the 
 impression that I disliked him rather than otherwise. It was true 
 then ; but lately 1 have come to see that I was unjust. I see much 
 now that I would not see before.' 
 
 ' Ah,' she replied ; ' I suppose he is seen to better advantage at a 
 distance like a mountain ; but you see I have had no opportunities 
 of discovering that for myself. I have been so very unfortunately 
 placed. But I am rather curious to know what these newly- dis- 
 covered beauties in his character really are. Has he suddenly 
 developed a sense of humour, or a glimmering notion of how he 
 ought to behave ? Was his twang assumed to try us ? Or is ha
 
 50 THE PARIAH 
 
 that boringest of all bores the rough diamond ? Do please eft- 
 lighten me.' 
 
 ' I don't think it would be of much use if I tried,' he said. 
 ' Suppose we change the subject ? ' 
 
 ' Suppose we do without a subject,' she retorted, and walked on 
 in majestic silence with her chin very much elevated. Miss Che- 
 vening did not take at all kindly to a setting-down. He had been 
 a little repelled again by this exhibition of disdain, he thought her 
 needlessly hard, and yet there was something captivatingly childish 
 in this petulance of hers which made it difficult to take her 
 seriouslj-. 
 
 ' Is talking strictly prohibited ? ' he said at last, and she broke 
 into a charming, unwilling smile. 
 
 ' Was I cross ? ' she said. ' Yes, I know I was. But you were 
 so very superior, weren't you ? Never mind, here we are at the 
 market, let us try to finish our walk without qxiarrelling.' 
 
 Her eyes were kind and frank and friendly again, and for the 
 rest of the morning no one could have been more sweetly engaging, 
 more ready to give pleasure and be pleased, than this most contra- 
 dictory and variable young lady. Orme wandered by her side, 
 through the maze of white-capped old women, with their baskets 
 and stalls heaped with wares of all kinds butter in leaves, live 
 rabbits in boxes, dogfish in baskets, and cool, fresh-smelling 
 counts-produce. All the time he had a sense of the delight and 
 privilege of being with her, coupled with a kind of impatience at 
 himself that his enjoyment was not keener and more conscious 
 still. It seemed to him that it was somehow not so delightful no\v 
 as he felt it would be to look back upon later. 
 
 Near the quay a travelling dentist had stationed a gilded vehicle 
 like a diligence, from the coupe of which, gorgeously arrayed in a 
 crimson dressing-gown, he was commending the virtues of a tooth- 
 ache tincture, while a young woman on the roof punctuated his 
 more impressive periods with a pair of cymbals. As they came 
 up he was sprinkling his audience with drops of the tincture, by 
 way of an appeal to their senses. ' If it smelt unpleasantly,' he 
 was good enough to explain, ' I should not permit myself to offer 
 it to you.' But Miss Chevening bestowed all her notice upon a 
 small wooden box which was suspended from the splashboard, and 
 which had a pane of glass in front. Through this pane peered a 
 melancholy and cynical little monkey, which had excited her sympa- 
 thies. The crowd of grinning fisher-lads and wrinkled old peasants 
 made way for her as she moved up to the cage. ' Oh, see, Mr. 
 Orme,' she cried appealingly, ' the poor little thing ! Is he a patient, 
 do you think ? Do they try the tincture and things on you, dear ? 
 No, your teeth are too good.' And, bending down, she began to 
 talk the most charming and caressing nonsense to the captive, 
 while Orme wondered icily whether the monkey was at all consoled 
 by the sight of that exquisite face at his prison wicket. Probably 
 the creature's ideal was something very different ; he merely
 
 BO YOUNG AND SO UN-TENDER 51 
 
 blinked his tired eyes and scratched his ear with a bored sus- 
 picion. 
 
 The dentist was inviting any sufferer from toothache to step up 
 and obtain relief, whereupon p. sheepish and palpable hireling 
 mounted, and was treated with the tincture to the sound of cymbals. 
 'Vous etes console, n'est-ce pas ?' the professor inquired majesti- 
 cally, after a dramatic, pause for the cure to take effect. ' Mais 
 oui,' said the patient, with a perfunctoriness that suggested consola- 
 tion in advance. Then, as the dentist showed an alarming disposi- 
 tion to become anatomical (with diagrams), and to produce un- 
 pleasant things in bottles out of the boot, Nugent thought it as well 
 to go on, and they strolled along the quay by the fish-stalls, which 
 were laden with immense and hideous flat fish, heaps of little grey 
 shrimps (which a marketing bonne would occasionally stir up with 
 the ferule of a depreciatory umbrella), and Prussian-blue lobsters, 
 blindly groping for revenge. And Miss Chovening had remarked 
 the prevalent expression of the fish a ludicrous goggle-eyed 
 astonishment that they should have been caught at last, taken in 
 by a trick as old as the sea itself. 
 
 ' I remember feeling quite guilty about catching a fish once,' 
 said Orme. ' I was out deep-sea fishing, and we caught an immense 
 cod. He lay there, gasping and spluttering, in the bows, exactly 
 like a highly respectable and indignant old gentleman in a white 
 waistcoat ; he only wanted a gold chain. I really felt inclined to 
 apologise for taking the liberty of hooking him.' 
 4 But you didn't put him back ? ' 
 
 1 Well no ; but I avoided his eye. He breathed his last with a 
 calm dignity that completed my remorse.' 
 
 ' The remorse of the Walrus and the Carpenter,' she said. 
 1 Look, this fish has a striking face they call it a " St. Pierre " here 
 one side of his profile is pious and resigned, the other is sneering 
 and malignant. I wonder which he kept for his family.' 
 
 All this is trivial enough, and would be scarcely worth recording 
 were it not that it is just such light-hearted foolish talk as this that 
 advances an acquaintanceship many months in a single hour. 
 Orme saw a new Miss Chevening, tender-hearted, full of the sweetest 
 gaiety, simple and natural ; a very different person from the scorn- 
 ful, sarcastic young lady of half an hour before. Presently in some 
 way she came to tell him about her family, and the old riverside 
 home at Chiswick. 
 
 ' Such a queer, shabby, out-of-the-way old house,' she said, ' with 
 only a narrow little path and some old poplars in front, no road, 
 and then the river. But the dearest old place for all that espe- 
 cially in the summer, when you can sit out on the balcony and see 
 the boats go shooting by, and the people streaming across the bridge 
 to Kew Gardens. Even in the winter, though, whpn it's all foggy 
 and misty, I like it. I am always glad to get back to it. I hated 
 it when we first went to live there we all did but now I wouldn't 
 change it for any place in the world.' 
 
 x 2
 
 52 THE PAEIAfl 
 
 This and more of the same nature he learnt from her during 
 that walk ; and all the time he had her quite to himself, for Mrs. 
 Spoker kept Allen at a discreet distance until the return, when she 
 joined them, in raptures with the dentist, to whom she declared she 
 intended to present her husband for scientific purposes. 
 
 Orme, as has been said, came away with a deeper and more 
 pleasing impression of Miss Chevening, but he was by DO means in 
 love with her even yet ; he told himself that she was an interesting 
 study, a comrade who could be delightful when it pleased her. 
 She was certainly lovely, but the type of woman he admired was 
 smaller, fairer, less mutinous, if not meeker, than Margot, with her 
 fine physique, her masses of dusky hair with the gleam of bronze 
 in it, and her vivid, spirited face. There was not the least danger ; 
 and besides, had she not, even in the short time he had known her, 
 shown qualities which in his heart he did not admire ? He was 
 not in love, that was certain ; but he thought of her pretty constantly 
 notwithstanding. 
 
 He had more frequent opportunities of observing her now, for 
 since that walk with her, it had come to be looked upon as a natural 
 thing that he as well as Allen should be in attendance upon Miss 
 Chevening. Her mother, though of course present on these occa- 
 sions, raised no objection, being either too indolent to engage in any 
 further encounter with her daughter, or doubtful w T hether she could 
 interfere without offending Chadwick, which she was very anxious 
 to avoid. 
 
 But this greater freedom of intercourse brought Orme, on the 
 whole, more of torment than delight, though each day he felt the 
 physical attraction of her more powerfully, and she made no secret 
 of a growing pleasure in his society. 
 
 Allen usually made the third person in the party, and it was 
 her treatment of him which almost counteracted her charm in 
 Orme's eyes. Generally she scarcely deigned to notice him at all, 
 but if she did it was invariably in a subdued tone of profoundest 
 contempt ; when she had occasion to speak of him in his absence 
 it was with the deepest, tbe most unsparing disdain. 
 
 Some men might have found a delicious flattery in such a con- 
 trast. Orme had a somewhat ascetic conscience in these matters, 
 his keen admiration of this girl's beauty made him a sterner critic 
 of her faults, which he absolutely resented. With all her loveli- 
 ness, he denied her right to adopt that attitude of supreme scorn- 
 fulness to one -so helpless and inoffensive as the unfortunate Allen ; 
 every fresh instance of it gave Orme a sharper pain, and the fact 
 that Allen was quite unconscious of all her veiled mockery only 
 made her conduct worse in his friend's eyes. Why, he wondered, 
 should she, who looked all that was sweet and lovable, show this 
 ugly side to her nature ? As it would be worse than useless to 
 protest, he would at least do nothing that would imply acquiescence, 
 he would prevent this young Chadwick from being made publicly 
 ridiculous,
 
 SO YOUNG AND SO DN-TENDER 53 
 
 And, perhaps with a view to his own protection from a greater 
 danger, he contrived expeditions for Allen and himself to various 
 places along the coast and inland which kept them away from the 
 rest of the party for the greater part of each day. 
 
 At last this precaution defeated itself. He and Allen had taken 
 the train to Pont 1'Eveque, and were walking back to Trouville by 
 way of Bonneville, the fine old Norman stronghold where Duke 
 William extended a dubious hospitality to Saxon Harold, and 
 Matilda beguiled her solitude by needlework, and Berengaria 
 mourned for Creur de Lion. The massive keep and the old walls 
 with crumbling towers at the angles are all that remain of the castle 
 now, though a whitewashed, green-shuttered building has grown in 
 amongst the ruins like a parasite. Outside the entrance they saw 
 a large white-awninged break and pair, and in the courtyard 
 which is now neatly laid out with gravel walks and turf, blazing 
 flower-beds and fruit-trees a party of tourists had just preceded 
 (hem. 
 
 1 Oh yes,' Onne heard a familiar voice remarking, ' I know very 
 well it's all perfectly sweet and too majestic for anything, but I 
 don't seem as if I could have my imagination excited by any more 
 old relics. I've been round peopling so many antiquated pils with 
 knights and pages and chatelaines and troubadours that I don't 
 feel to have any left for a number-two ruin like this. I can't re- 
 create the dead past worth a red cent to-daj\ Oh, Mr. Orme, now 
 this is what I call a delightful meeting ! I hope you feel it delight- 
 ful as well ? Yes, we're all here, the others are going round. M. 
 de Pommesucant, we'd better go round too, if you've no objection.' 
 
 ' It was Mr. Chadwick's idea our coming here in a party,' ex- 
 plained Miss Whipple to Orme as they walked on ; 'he managed it 
 all he's perfectly splendid at managing. I do admire him for one 
 thing, anyway,' she added in a tone of impartial laudation, ' he's a 
 live man all the time, there are no flies on him.' 
 
 Orme could see the rest of the party on ahead Chadwick, the 
 Spokers, the Whipples, and Mrs. Chevening, and, with a thrill he 
 could not prevent, he saw a slim tall figure which could only belong 
 to Miss Chevening. ' I say,' Mr. Spoker was observing, as they all 
 stood round a kiud of deep cellar, 'this is interesting isn't it 
 interesting, now ? The guide says this is the identical oubliette in 
 which De Chaumont was imprisoned by Richard I. ; how it carries 
 you back to the old times, eh ? See, there's a lamp burning down 
 there.' 
 
 'Before you're quite carried back, dear,' said his affectionate 
 wife, 'perhaps you'll tell us who De Chaumont was, and what he did. 
 Ah, I knew he didn't know!' she cried, 'he was so very enthu- 
 siastic.' 
 
 ' I know quite enough to make it interesting to me, my love, 
 whatever it may be to you,' he retorted. ' Here's a curious thing, 
 now, we are coming to the very chapel in which Harold took 
 the solemn oath to help "William to acquire the throne of England,'
 
 54 THE PARIAH 
 
 ' \Vhy,' remarked Miss "Whipple, ' there isn't room to take so 
 much as an affidavit in there ! no wonder he broke it. Let's come 
 away, this is disenchanting.' 
 
 Mees Chevenain,' the young Frenchman, an enthusiastic Anglo- 
 maniac, was saying to Margot, 'will you ninke with me the 
 ascension of the tower ? and upon the top we will 'ave a beautiful 
 blow on the eye.' 
 
 Margot was in rather a reckless mood just then ; for some time 
 she had noticed Orine's defection, and resented it deeply. She had 
 found him agreeable and interesting, she had respected him and been 
 anxious to have his good opinion. Now, it seemed, he preferred 
 the company of that ill-bred idiot to hers. Of course she affected to 
 treat the whole matter with indifference, but her heart was very 
 bitter against both Allen and his friend, and she was childishly 
 ready to seek some means of retaliation. 
 
 She had chosen not to see the newcomers, and, by way of avoid- 
 ing them, went up the worn stone steps with M. de Pornrnesucant, 
 and stood on the little platform looking down on the moat, whose 
 velvet-ridged sides were flecked with shade from the gnarled old 
 apple-trees that grew along the bank. Beyond, across the tree-tops, 
 lay the shimmering plain, with the roofs of Touques glittering in the 
 afternoon sun, and, further still, the deep lapis lazuli blue of the sea. 
 Inland stretched a rich country landscape, a patchwork of deep 
 chocolate, tender green, and the brilliant yellow of the colza, inter- 
 sected by long double lines of poplars, and backed by distant ultra- 
 marine hills. The battoirs of the washerwomen, as they knelt over 
 a soapy little roofed tank below, made a cheerful hammering. 
 
 ' You find it magnificent ? ' her companion asked. 
 
 ' The view ? ' she said absently she had hardly noticed it ' oh 
 yes.' 
 
 ' And I," he agreed. ' To some, nature is triste and wants of 
 gaiety. For me, no. I am like you others you English. I love 
 the repose, the picturesque. I come to Trouville, not to live as in 
 Paris, but for change, for simplicity. I am very fond of all your 
 English ways of living : your fox-hunt, your dogscart, your novel 
 ah, how I adore your " Vicaire of Wackfiel " and your " Clarisse 
 Arlow " ! your 'ome and your games of the family. There is a 
 game I have often heard but seen nevare, it is called, I think, " Kiss 
 at a Ring ; " could you inform me how to play him '? ' 
 
 ' I am afraid not,' said Margot ; ' but there is someone below 
 who I daresay could tell you all about it ; we will go down and I 
 will ask him.' 
 
 In the courtyard she saw Allen and Orrne, with all of the party 
 except her mother and Mr. Chadwick, who were watching the cus- 
 todian as he dropped pieces of lighted newspaper down the castlo 
 well. 
 
 ' Mr. Chadwick, 1 said Margot sweetly to Allen, in her clear soft 
 tones, ' M. de Poinmesurant is very anxious to know how " Kiss in 
 the Bing" is played. I suppose you have played it often enough on
 
 SO YOUNG AND SO UN-TENDER 55 
 
 Bank Holidays, and are quite an authority ; would you mind ex- 
 plaining it to him ? ' 
 
 ' It's simple enough,' said the unsuspecting Allen. ' We might 
 have a game here, if you didn't mind.' 
 
 ' Thanks,' she said, ' we should mind very much. You see, M. 
 de Pommesugant, English ladies are not in the habit of playing 
 "Kiss in the King." ' 
 
 ' Then it is only for the English gentilmans ? ' said the mystified 
 Frenchman. 
 
 Miss Chevening laughed. ' I must leave Mr. Chadwick to 
 answer that, he plays it at all events. Where do you play it, Mr. 
 Chadwick ? at tea-gardens and places of that sort ? Please instruct 
 M. de Pommesucant.' 
 
 ' A thousand thanks,' said the latter gentleman gallantty, ' but I 
 do not wish to learn a game I cannot play with the English ladies.' 
 
 ' Perhaps you are right,' said Margot ; ' it is not at all an aristo- 
 cratic amusement, in spite of Mr. Chadwick's fondness for it.' 
 
 She had the gratification of knowing that Nugent Orme was 
 standing close by, and she could see from his expression that he was 
 intensely angry. She did not care, anything was better than that 
 he should seem so provokingly unconscious of her existence. 
 
 The rest of the party had gone on in search of further objects of 
 interest or points of view, and she was preparing to follow when she 
 was stopped by Orme. 
 
 ' Don't go yet, Miss Chevening,' he said. ' I want to speak to 
 you.' 
 
 There was an air of authority in his tone that mastered her. 
 'You must find me a seat, then,' she said. 
 
 There were some under the fruit-trees, and she sat down. ' Do 
 you prefer standing ?' she said, as he stood moodily by. 
 
 ' Yes, I do,' he said shortly. ' Miss Chevening,' he broke out a 
 moment after, ' why, in Heaven's name, can't you leave that poor 
 young Chadwick in peace ? ' 
 
 She was provokingly innocent and surprised. ' What did I do ? 
 I merely assumed he had played a vulgar game, and as it turned 
 out I was quite right.' 
 
 ' You did it to humiliate him and make him openly ridiculous,' 
 he said. 
 
 'He noticed nothing.' 
 
 ' Such an excuse as that is worse than none. I thought, if I 
 kept him out of your way as much as possible, you would have some 
 consideration for him when you did meet.' 
 
 She sat there restlessly spreading and shutting her hand. ' I 
 can't help it,' she saidrebeiliously ; 'I do not see why I should have 
 to meet such a person at all, and when I do - But you would 
 never understand how I feel about it. I can't be civil to him ; the 
 mere sight of him ' 
 
 ' I don't understand,' he replied. ' I hope I never shall. What- 
 ever you are and whatever he may be you have no right to treat
 
 56 THE PARIAH 
 
 him with a contempt like this. It is insolent, wicked ; you ought 
 not to encourage it, for your own sake, Miss Chevening. If you 
 despise him so intensely, that should be a reason for letting him 
 alone.' 
 
 She coloured, she knew, if he did not, what her real motives had 
 been in making that gratuitous attack on his protege ; apparently 
 she had succeeded only too well. 
 
 ' You are a very warm partisan,' she said maliciously. 'Don't 
 they say that the latest converts are always keenest to make prose- 
 lytes ? Wasn't your own conversion rather recent, Mr. Orme ? ' 
 
 ' At least,' he retorted angrily, ' I can't charge myself with hav- 
 ing been carried away by prejudice.' 
 
 ' As I am ? I don't admit that it is prejudice ; I call it instinct, 
 Mr. Orme, the instinct given to us for our protection against noxious 
 creatures of all kinds. But whatever it is,' she added wilfully, ' I 
 have it and I must obey it, whether it displeases you or not. So 
 I'm afraid your lecture has not done very much good to anybody.' 
 
 ' Evidently,' he answered. 
 
 He felt irritated and depressed, he had only made matters 
 worse by speaking, and even now, angry as he was with her, he was 
 gallingly conscious that that air of impertinent mockery made her 
 more bewitching than ever. 
 
 ' Have you quite finished your remarks ? ' she inquired, ' because, 
 if so, I think I will go and see what the others are doing over there. 
 Don't let me disturb you.' 
 
 He watched her go lightly across the turf without attempting to 
 follow her ; she was singing gaily to herself as she went. She had 
 no heart, he thought ; she was as irresponsible in her careless 
 cruelty as a child. 
 
 In justice to Margot, however, it should be mentioned that she 
 bad had some additional reasons of late for emphasizing her dislike 
 of Allen. She more than suspected that her mother was secretly 
 encouraging the idea of an engagement between them ; she had 
 more than once been certain that she had heard her name and his 
 coupled together in conversation by Chadwick, with whom her 
 mother seemed now so ^completely in accord. Nothing should 
 make her yield to anything so horrible and preposterous ; of that 
 she was serenely confident ; but in the meantime she would leave 
 as little room for misunderstanding as possible. She was not very 
 angry with Nugent. The difference between them had formed 
 rather a pleasing excitement ; he had looked particularly well when 
 roused ; she looked forward to several repetitions of the scene. It 
 was highly absurd and presumptious of him to take sides against 
 her and find fault with her, but it was better than if she had been 
 unimportant in his eyes. If she chose, she thought, she could soon 
 make him change his opinion ; it was impossible that he could really 
 place Allen before her. 
 
 Orme was considering how soon he could bring his stay to a 
 close without discourtesy to Chadwick, when Mrs. Chevening re-
 
 SO YOUNG AND SO UN-TENDER 57 
 
 lieved him from all perplexity on that point. She came to him 
 tinder the trees, smiling at him as she advanced with her most 
 laboured insincerity. 
 
 ' So sorry, dear Mr. Orme,' she began, ' to hear we are to lose 
 you so soon ! Mr. Chadwick tells me you are leaving to-morrow, 
 I didn't know you were only staying here a week." 
 
 In any case, unless his desire to stay had overcome all self- 
 respect he could not have ignored so very plain a congt, seeing that 
 she had evidently been deputed to this delicate mission. As it was, 
 he was glad of his release. 
 
 1 Yes, I must leave here to-morrow,' he said. ' I have stayed too 
 long already.' 
 
 'Not too long for us, not nearly long enough,' she replied 
 graciously ; ' but of course there is your profession the Bar, is it 
 not ? and to succeed in that you must work so very hard. I can 
 quite understand that you don't feel justified in taking a longer 
 holiday quite quite, Mr. Orme.' 
 
 ' Where are Mr. Allen Chadwick and Mr. Orme ? ' asked Miss 
 Whipple a little later. 
 
 ' They've walked on,' said Mrs. Chevening. ' Mr. Orme wouldn't 
 take a seat in the break ; so foolish of him, when he will want to get 
 back early ; he has all his packing to do.' 
 
 ' Why, is Mr. Orme going away ? ' 
 
 1 Oh, I thought you knew ; he was just telling me all about it, 
 how he couldn't stay a day over to-morrow a week was all he 
 intended to stay ; it seems such a very arduous profession, the 
 Bar. 1 
 
 There were comments of various kinds, though none unfavour- 
 able upon Orme, and some expressions of sorrow at his departure, 
 but Miss Chevening did not join in them. It is possible that she 
 had not heard that he was leaving, for she was much interested in 
 ascertaining the precise depth of the castle-well at that time. 
 
 CHAPTEE VII. 
 
 A REACTION. 
 
 Prom which I escaped heart-free, with the least little touch of spleen. 
 
 Maud. 
 
 THAT evening Orme, having finished his packing, such as it was, 
 had come down and gone out upon the terrace overlooking the 
 sands. It was deserted just then ; empty coffee-cups and liqueur 
 glasses stood on the little round tables, the visitors had adjourned 
 to the Casino or their private rooms he had the place to himself. 
 He leaned upon the balcony rail and looked out to sea, on which 
 darkness was rapidly closing, the long bars of orange and citron 
 which broke the slate-coloured cloud-banks in the west were narrow-
 
 58 THE PARIAH 
 
 ing and fading, and over the dim sands below, the light from the 
 hotel lamps flickered fantastically as the breeze blew the tricoloured 
 banners with which they were festooned across their globes, and, 
 farther out, the waves broke in gleaming phosphorescent rolls. Far 
 away to the right, two bright revolving lights and a chain of fiery 
 points indicated Havre, where he would be next day ; on the left 
 were the crimson and green lights of the piers and the garish 
 electric halo above the Casino. 
 
 He was thinking, a little sorely, about Miss Chevening. He 
 had not spoken to her since their conversation in the courtyard at 
 Bonneville. He had seen her at the table d'hote at a distance as 
 usual and that would in all probability prove to have been his 
 last sight of her. Perhaps, as he was bringing himself to see, it 
 was best so. There had been peril in his friendship : he had come 
 dangerously near losing his heart to her. He had admired her 
 unwillingly, against his better judgment, unable altogether to resist 
 the charm of her insouciance, her graceful disdain, her pretty 
 impertinences, even when most distrustful of the nature they 
 seemed to reveal. 
 
 But this last experience had cured him, disenchanted him, he 
 thought. This girl was more than careless she was cruel, merci- 
 less to everyone that did not fall in with her fastidious taste ; 
 remonstrances, appeals were thrown away upon her. Heaven help 
 the man who let himself love such a woman as that ! Well, he 
 had had his warning ; he should go away next morning without a 
 pang or a regret except that disenchantment is perhaps fraught 
 with the keenest regret of all. While he was indulging in these 
 meditations, he heard the swing-doors move behind him and the 
 sweep of drapery, and then his name called by Miss Chevening 
 herself. He turned, to find her standing close by, her eyes shining 
 and her face looking pale in the subdued light. 
 
 ' You have something to say to me ? ' he asked, wondering 
 greatly. 
 
 ' I wanted to ask you first, if it is true that you are going away 
 to-morrow ? ' 
 
 ' Quite true. It was understood that I could only be here a 
 week. 1 
 
 ' I did not know. If I had, I should not have spoken as I did 
 this afternoon to you. 1 
 
 ' I really don't remember,' he said, ' that I had any reason to 
 complain personally of what you said.' 
 
 ' Ah ! ' she said, ' don't put me off by being cold and civil, please, 
 Mr. Orme ; I couldn't bear to think that our last talk should be like 
 that. I don't want you to go away thinking very badly of me 
 and and I am afraid you will t ' 
 
 She spoke with such a sweet humility, such childish eagerness 
 to put herself right with him, that no man could have hardened his 
 heart against her, and no one but a coxcomb have misinterpreted 
 her appeal.
 
 A REACTION 59 
 
 1 It is too good of you to care what I think,' Orme said. 
 
 ' Of course I care ! Haven't we been friends ? Considering 
 how short a time we have known one another, we were very good 
 friends, I think till lately. And though I don't suppose we are 
 very likely to meet again, I should like to part friends. I don't want 
 to have it all spoilt at the last." 
 
 She was more dangerous just then than he had ever found her 
 before. He had to keep a firm command over himself to restrain 
 some speech which would be a hideous mistake. 
 
 ' I know,' she went on, ' it was I who spoilt it, but but I think 
 you are a little too severe. You don't consider enough what it is 
 to me to have to know a creature like that, it's so different for a 
 man it is really 1 And it acts on my nerves, it makes me well, 
 not myself. I am not bad except to people I thoroughly dislike. 
 This afternoon, I own, I had no excuse it was mean of me, but 
 seeing him there suddenly it annoyed me ; I wanted to make him 
 feel a little, but he felt nothing it was I who felt ashamed 1 And 
 that made me speak to you as I did. You know how I hate 
 owning myself in the wrong, but I will this once just a little bit. 1 
 
 Orrne could not help being amused as well as touched. Miss 
 Chevening's penitence was so evidently of a limited order. 
 
 ' That is something, isn't it ? ' he said, smiling. 
 
 ' There is another thing,' continued Miss Chevening hurriedly. 
 1 Perhaps, as you seem to take such an interest in him, you may be 
 feeling a little uncomfortable about leaving him to my tender 
 mercies ? You need not be. I hope we shall not have to be here 
 very much longer, but, while we are, I will be as good to him as I 
 can possibly be expected to be. There ! ' 
 
 ' I am sure you will not regret it. 1 
 
 ' Are you ? I am not but never mind. And you do believe a 
 little more in me than you did, don't you ? ' 
 
 What could he do but protest ? And just then, too, his belief 
 in her was clouded by no mistrust. It was impossible to look at 
 her as she stood there and think a harsh thought of her. 
 
 ' Then that is all, and mother is waiting for me in the salon ; 
 I must go in now, Mr. Orme. We may not meet again before you 
 go to-morrow, so will you shake hands jxist to show we are 
 friends again ? ' 
 
 ' I am only too glad that you will let me be your friend now 
 and always,' he said, as he held her hand for an instant, and then 
 she went within, leaving him less reconciled to his approaching 
 departure than she had found him, and yet with a consolatory glow 
 at his heart. He would go away now with a memory of her 
 marred by no touch of bitterness ; it was an episode in his life, and 
 it was finished, but it would be long before he forgot it, and as 
 often as he recalled it, it would always be with the same tantalising 
 wonder whether he had just escaped delicious happiness or exqui- 
 site misery.
 
 60 THE PAMAH 
 
 The next morning Miss Chevening, who had been one of the 
 party who saw Nugent Orme off, stood by the lighthouse, following 
 the steamer as it crossed the bay to Havre, until it became in- 
 distinguishable against the blurred smoke and sparkle of the quays. 
 She felt a little sad ; she had not realised till then how much he 
 had filled her life of late ; how interesting it had been, even to 
 differ from him. It gave her a momentary pang to look at the 
 Roches Noires and remember that walk with him the first day. 
 Trouville looked different, somehow, now he had gone it seemed 
 to have lost its meaning. 
 
 'He went away very sudden at the last,' said Allen, coming up 
 to her. ' I'm sorry he had to go like that : aren't you, Miss 
 Chevening ? ' 
 
 Miss Chevening made a diplomatic reply to the effect that there 
 was always something rather melancholy in seeing people off, even 
 if they were almost strangers. 
 
 ' Why, you couldn't call him a stranger ! ' cried Allen ; ' you 
 knew him well, pretty near as well as you do us. You won't have 
 to see us off just yet,' he added consolingly. 
 
 ' It is just possible,' remarked Margot, ' that to spare ourselves 
 all avoidable pain we may go first.' 
 
 ' Or I say we might all go together, eh ? ' he suggested eagerly. 
 
 ' We might, of course, but I don't see the slightest reason for 
 such an arrangement.' 
 
 This could not be called exactly cordial, but it was an effort to 
 her to answer him at all, and she was really putting some control 
 upon herself in doing so at that particular time. But for the joint 
 effect of her promise to Orme and the thought of her mother's dis- 
 pleasure, she could not have endured Allen as patiently as she did 
 during the following days. 
 
 Margot's regret for Orme was but a passing one ; she was heart- 
 whole still, and rather annoyed with herself for indulging even a 
 momentary sentiment. He was only a friend ; she did not want 
 him as anything else, she would probably not see him again, and 
 she did not feel particularly unhappy at the thought. Still, she 
 liked thinking of him. 
 
 Meanwhile, the Trouville season was drawing to a close ; the 
 shrill chorus of laughter and squeaking from the oilskin-capped 
 bathers grew less loud and sustained ; it was comparatively easy to 
 get a chair, and even a striped umbrella, on the sands ; the company 
 became more bourgeois, there were fewer yachtsmen in spotless 
 white Carlist caps, and more stout gentlemen in black alpaca 
 leading very small dogs adorned with immense rosettes. In the 
 hotels the tables d'hote contracted as fast as the famous peau de 
 chagrin, and the survivors made gloomy jests on their reduced 
 numbers; strips of bedside carpet were protruded, like bilious 
 tongues, from the upper windows, and in the toy villas along the 
 plage all the crimson blinds were drawn, and the Swiss verandahs, 
 deserted.
 
 A REACTION 61 
 
 As a further sign, Margot and her mother, driving out one 
 afternoon with the two Chadwicks, met the head-waiter of the 
 Californie and his two principal assistants all mounted on spirited 
 horses, with which they seemed none of them to be on the closest 
 terms. 
 
 ' "Why, that's the fellow who brings me my wine,' cried Chad- 
 wick ; ' he'll be grassed if he doesn't look out, to a dead certainty.' 
 
 ' None of them can ride a little bit,' said Allen ; ' regular muffs 
 look, that one has lost his stirrup ! ' 
 
 ' You talk as if you knew something about it,' said Margot 
 suavely. ' Do you ride ? ' 
 
 Her benevolent intention of putting him out of countenance 
 failed for once. 
 
 ' Oh yes,' he said. ' I'm very fond of it. I ride every day at 
 home.' 
 
 This statement, while it surprised her, certainly raised him a 
 little in her estimation ; she had a great respect for manliness, and 
 had not expected him to possess such an accomplishment as horse- 
 manship. It was lucky for him that she did not know the exact 
 extent and duration of that possession, which might have altered 
 the case. 
 
 As it was, she treated him with so much more consideration, 
 that that evening, on returning from their drive, after Chadwick 
 had rallied the equestrian waiters on their riding until he was 
 satisfied he had thoroughly endeared himself to them, and Margot 
 and her mother had reached their rooms, Mrs. Chevening not 
 very wisely commended her daughter upon her improved manner 
 towards Allen. 
 
 ' I am really so pleased to see how nicely you behave to that 
 young Mr. Chadwick now,' she said ; ' you've quite got over your 
 old objections to him, haven't you, darling Margot ? ' 
 
 ' If you ask me, dear,' said Margot calmly, ' I think I dislike 
 and detest him more cordially every day, only I'm tired of show- 
 ing it.' 
 
 ' Now that's so ungracious, to spoil it like that, when I was 
 feeling so happy about it all, too ! ' 
 
 ' Happy ? But why should you be happy about it, mother ? ' 
 inquired Margot, as she drew the pin out of her hat and turned 
 round suddenly. 
 
 ' Is it very unnatural that I should like to see my daughter on 
 on pleasant terms with the son of someone who is becoming almost 
 an intimate friend ? ' 
 
 ' You have a stronger reason than that, de&r,' she said. ' Tell 
 me what it is.' 
 
 ' You say such odd things at times,' protested Mrs, Chevening. 
 'What stronger reason could I have ? ' 
 
 ' Ah, you forget I am grown-up ! I can't help putting things 
 together, and seeing that you are letting yourself build hopes on 
 what may come of this friendship.'
 
 62 THE PAKIAS 
 
 1 How dare you 1 ' Mrs. Chevening was beginning, when he* 
 
 daughter stopped her. 
 
 ' Now it's no use, mother dear ; you know as well as I do that 
 you have been thinking what a good thing it would be if that dread- 
 ful young boor were to pay me the honour of proposing to me. 
 Thank goodness, such an idea has never occurred to him he 
 wouldn't dare to even conceive it ! but if he did ; oh, if he did, do 
 you suppose I would ever consent for anything in the world why, 
 mother, I simply couldn't ! ' 
 
 ' Well, my dear," said her mother, after a pause, ' there's no 
 occasion to excite yourself over it. He has not asked you yet, and 
 there will be tune enough to do so when he does.' 
 
 ' He will be a very foolish youth indeed if he ever does ; but, so 
 long as you quite understand, the rest is his affair. Luckily, there 
 is very little time left him, for I suppose wo shan't stay here much 
 longer ? Everybody is going ; even the Spooners leave the day 
 after to-morrow. When shall we go, dear ? ' 
 
 ' When I think proper, my love,' was the unsatisfactory reply. 
 ' It must be expensive, staying here, surely ? ' said Miss Cheven- 
 ing, pouting. 
 
 ' That, again, is entirely my affair.' 
 
 Miss Chevening shrugged her shoulders as she prepared to leave 
 the room. 
 
 1 Very well, mother dear, only I warn you I can't go on behav- 
 ing nicely for ever. I can't guarantee that my patience shall last 
 many days more he must not try me too far, that is all.' 
 
 Mrs. Chevening made no answer ; when her daughter was gone 
 she went to the window and threw open the wooden shutters as if 
 she felt the need of air. ' If she would only be sensible ! ' she 
 mused aloud; ' if she will only see things in the proper light but 
 I am afraid of her yes, I am afraid of her spoiling everything ! ' 
 
 Margot was by no means satisfied with this conversation ; it was 
 disagreeable, for one thing, to know that their stay at Trouville of 
 which place she was heartily tired was still indefinitely prolonged, 
 but she had other reasons for disquietude. She could place but little 
 confidence in her mother, who, indolent and rather shiftless as she 
 was in most things, was capable occasionally of devising, and even 
 following out, a tortuous policy with surprising energy and persis- 
 tency. And for some time Margot had had an instinctive misgiving 
 that her mother was working to secure Allen Chadwick as a son-in- 
 law, and that she already had his father's assent and co-operation. 
 This was not in any way alarming to Miss Chevening, who felt 
 a calm reliance in her own po\ver to withstand all arguments, 
 prayers, or pressure ; but it made her very indignant that her own 
 mother should know her so little. And then she felt that she her- 
 self must have encouraged the delusion lately by her milder de- 
 meanour towards this youthful Orson, which was more exasperating 
 than anything else. That mistake, at all events, she resolved she 
 would avoid for the future.
 
 A REACTION 63 
 
 So that when, that same evening, she found herself, as was her 
 nightly fate, walking by Allen's side behind their respective parents 
 to the Casino, she was once more in her most rebellious mood. 
 How much longer, she wondered wearily, would this go on ? How 
 long before he gave her the chance of refusing him ; he had assumed 
 none of the airs of a wooer as yet the fact being that he stood in 
 far too much awe of her. 
 
 ' I chaffed those waiter chaps in fine style,' he was saying ; ' did 
 you hear me, Miss Chevening, eh ? ' 
 
 ' You gave me every opportunity of hearing you,' she replied. 
 
 He had passed the head-waiter in the entrance hall, and, in 
 imitation of his father, had been facetious at his expense. 
 
 ' You don't think he minded what I said, eh ? do you ? ' he 
 asked, struck by her tone into sudden misgivings ; ' he grinned like 
 blazes.' 
 
 ' I dare say it afforded him exquisite amusement,' said Margot, 
 but if you don't mind, I shall be grateful if you will choose any 
 other time for amusing head-waiters with merry jests of that kind 
 than when you happen to be with me.' 
 
 ' Why, I only asked him ' he began. 
 
 ' Will you please be quiet ? ' said Miss Chevening, with a very 
 dangerous distinctness. ' I am not at all in a good temper this 
 evening. I would rather not be talked to just now, really. 1 He 
 glanced at her sideways, scarcely believing she was serious, but the 
 glimpse he had of her drawn eyebrows and the ominous compres- 
 sion of her lower lip gave him, though he was not wise, temporary 
 wisdom to follow her advice until they reached the Casino. 
 
 Arrived there, Mrs. Chevening, after establishing herself with 
 Chadwick on the promenade, playfully suggested that Allen must 
 be pining to lose some money at the Race Game, and that dear 
 Margot was always so amused looking on ; she thought perhaps if 
 they would promise not to be very long away, they might And 
 they went in to the Petits Chevaux, Margot calculating that there, 
 at least, she would have less of his conversation. 
 
 ' Les Petits Chevaux,' perhaps the best known of all French 
 watering-place games, is not a very reckless or ruinous mode of 
 dissipation at Trouville, at all events. The fact that the Board 
 has no interest at stake ensures that the game is conducted with 
 exemplary fairness ; each of the little leaden horses is ' run to win,' 
 and the greatest plunger cannot lose or gain more than a trifling 
 number of francs on each race. To the large number of sportsmen 
 who, to quote one of Mr. Pinero's characters, ' don't know a horse 
 from a ham-sandwich,' Les Petits Chevaux must be a superior kind 
 of race-meeting, with nothing to pay for a stand, and an event run 
 every four minutes instead of every quarter of an hour. 
 
 ' The speculator has always one chance in eight of gaining seven 
 times his stake, which makes the amusement highly popular with 
 all ages, from shaky old gentlemen and raddled old women, to fresh 
 young girls, and even children, who surround the green cloth and
 
 64 THE PARIAS 
 
 revolving horses as excitedly as if every race were the Derby or the 
 Grand Prix at the very least. 
 
 Margot was standing looking on at the scene, which generally 
 amused her for a short time. All the players were so intensely 
 serious over it ; there was a desperate scramble to seize a ticket 
 from the rack at the end of the stick with which the croupier went 
 round ; bitter jealousies and protestations from the side which he 
 did not happen to visit, for at Trouville there is a limit to the 
 number of tickets sold on each race. The croupiers would ignore 
 dozens of grasping hands, and resist the most bewitching blandish- 
 ments, with a splendid sense of their own importance ; then came 
 the expectant hush as the spring was pulled, and the gaily- coloured 
 ' field ' went spinning round and round, gradually to separate, 
 slacken, and stop, one by one, until the umpire triumphantly 
 announced the number of the winner, and the cashier paid all 
 holders of the corresponding ticket. She saw many of the regular 
 visitors, some who came in time for the opening race about half- 
 past eight and stayed till ten or eleven ; there was the grim old 
 lady with a mouth like a purse, whose husband paid the francs 
 whilst she pocketed any winnings ; there was the old Anglo-Parisian 
 who sat in the front row with lack-lustre eyes and took a chance as 
 seldom as possible ; there was the stout person with the pretty face 
 and the bare hands which had such a subtle vulgarity in their 
 movements. Clos6 by were a young married couple trying the 
 effect of a sprig of white heather they had found that morning on 
 the cliff, and a little overdressed child whose mother, in an 
 eccentric hat and toilet, had given her a franc to try her fortune 
 with. 
 
 Near Margot was an old Frenchman who, from constant atten- 
 dance, had come to acquire a profound knowledge of metal horse- 
 flesh ; he could tell as soon as the field began to thin which horse 
 would stop first and where, and was equally excited whether he 
 had any money on the race or not. He resembled other sporting 
 prophets in that his anticipations were not invariably corroborated 
 by the result. 
 
 ' Are you going to have a try, eh ? ' said Allen to her. ' I'll get 
 you a ticket.' Miss Chevening declined the offer ; she objected to 
 being under the slightest obligation to him ; her pride, too, made 
 her dislike to join in the undignified scramble for francs in that 
 mixed assembly. 
 
 ' Well,' said Allen, ' I think I'll have a go in, if you don't mind 
 waiting a bit.' 
 
 ' Here, id 1 ' he cried, as the croupier went by with his rack 
 and the little saucer underneath for the coins; he snatched a 
 ticket. ' Number three,' he said, ' hasn't won since we've been 
 here. I'm lucky at all this sort of thing. I won a pot the other 
 evening.' 
 
 ' I can quite imagine that,' said Margot, with a curling lip, ' yon 
 are BO very careful not to lose, you see.'
 
 A REACTION 65 
 
 ' Oh, I've a head on me,' he agreed. ' What's that fellow calling 
 out?' 
 
 ' He is saying that somebody has not paid for his ticket,' said 
 Margot. ' Not very honourable, if it was done on purpose, was 
 it ?' 
 
 ' Some of these French fellows are up to any dodge,' he answered, 
 and the cashier, having received no reply to his demand for the 
 missing stake, emptied the saucer into his partitioned box with a 
 shrug. 
 
 A curly -haired boy with a saintly face, like the type of the 
 pattern orphan in moral engravings, was pushing the horses into 
 position for a new start, and the race began. ' Le quatre est bon ! ' 
 said the old Frenchman encouragingly to a neighbour, 'le quatre est 
 tres bon.' 
 
 But No. 4 stops under one of the brass arches on the wrong side 
 of the post. ' Ce sera le sept,' he announced with authority, as No. 7 
 came gliding nearer and nearer the post. ' Ah, non, il a passe ' 
 (with the deepest melancholy), ' il va mourir .... il est mort ! ' 
 
 ' Didn't I tell you ! ' cried Allen. ' Look at three going as strong 
 as ever, he'll just romp in you see ! ' 
 
 Margot took no notice of him : ' Ce sera le deux,' said the 
 infallible Frenchman again, ' ou le trois ! ' he added. 
 
 ' It's a dead heat,' said Allen, who seemed much excited. ' I do 
 call it cruel luck, don't you ? ' but she would not answer. 
 
 The umpire was measuring the distance from the horses' noses 
 to the post with a piece of string. ' Le trois 1 ' he declared, with a 
 grin, ' 1'excellent trois, messieurs et mesdames ! ' and he gave the 
 unsuccessful No. 2 a contemptuous jerk back to the starting point. 
 
 ' Here ! ' shouted Allen to the cashier, ' ici avec la monnaie c'est 
 moi, j'ai le trois : regardez ! ' 
 
 ' I wouldn't excite myself,' said Margot contemptuously ; ' they 
 are not likely to cheat you they play quite fairly ! ' 
 
 ' By Jove ! ' he exclaimed suddenly ; ' I half think it was me who 
 forgot to put the two francs in they're in my waistcoat pocket 
 now.' 
 
 ' I am sure it was you,' said Margot ; ' I was watching.' 
 
 He laughed : ' I've done them finely,' he said. ' It was " heads I 
 won, tails they lost," and no mistake that time. But I didn't mean 
 to, you know,' he added. ' I was in such a hurry, I didn't notice. I 
 call that a good joke, though, eh ? ' 
 
 'People's ideas of jokes are so different,' said Margot, as he 
 pocketed his winnings. ' Have you won enough ? ' 
 
 ' Wait a bit,' he said ; ' I must have another shot. Hear what 
 they're calling out. " Qui desire de la monnaie ? " I thought we 
 all wanted money I do ! ' 
 
 'He is only offering small change,' Margot said, as she glanced 
 at him with a weary disgust. 
 
 The principal croupier and umpire, who seemed to regard his 
 duties in a frivolous light, was holding up the remaining ticket on
 
 66 THE PAEIAH 
 
 his rack. ' C'est le huit, messieurs, le beau huit, 1'excellent huit. 
 Qui veut le huit ? ' 
 
 ' Here, I'll have it,' said Allen, and secured it. ' You saw rne 
 pay that time!' he remarked to Margot, who had not been listening 
 or attending to anything of this. 
 
 Again the innocent-faced boy marshals the field into line and 
 retires meekly to put more tickets into their slits on the racks ; 
 again the horses spin round. 
 
 Eight, as the experienced Frenchman remarks wisely, is always 
 a sluggish animal, and he is true to his reputation on this occasion, 
 for he comes to a standstill halfway from the post. 
 
 Allen says, ' No luck this time,' and tears up his ticket, while 
 the other horses are still circulating at various rates of speed. But 
 now occurs a curious turn of fortune all but two have stopped in 
 the rear of number eight; the survivors are gently nearing the 
 winning-post amidst the keenest interest, their impetus being just 
 sufficient to send them past it, and by the rules of the game, to dis- 
 qualify them from winning, so that the despised number eight, 
 being now the first on the left side of the post, actually becomes the 
 winner after all. 
 
 Allen had torn up his ticket, but the floor was strewn with dis- 
 carded tickets of all numbers, and he picks up one which bears the 
 winning number, but which is of a different colour from the 
 original. 
 
 ' Voila c'est moi j'ai gagne ! ' he bawls, as the cashier not 
 the person who sold him the ticket paper looks at it and pushes it 
 aside contemptuously. ' Here ! ' shouts Allen, ' payez-moi, do you 
 hear ? Vite ! it's all right, I tell you ; this young lady will tell you 
 it's all right. Miss Margot, tell them how it was ! ' 
 
 He looked round as he spoke, and found himself alone. 
 
 Outside one of the large glass doors of the saloon devoted to the 
 Petits Chevaux, sat Mrs. Chevening and Mr. Chadwick. ' You 
 know,' he had said, as he dropped his cigar ash into the tub of an 
 adjoining orange-tree, ' I don't pretend that boy of mine is as smart 
 as I should like to see him, but I'm not going to have him looked 
 down on.' 
 
 ' But indeed,' murmured Mrs. Chevening, with her eyes upon 
 the slanted spears which supported the canvas above the band-kiosk, 
 and which now stood bare against the starlight, ' indeed, dear Mr. 
 Chadwick, it is so very unlikely that anyone could do that. And 
 when he has been a little more in the society of nice English 
 girls ' 
 
 ' Well,' he said, ' there's your Miss Margot she's a nice girl 
 enough, but it strikes me she don't take to him as much as I should 
 like to see.' 
 
 ' How can you say so I ' cried Mrs. Chevening. ' Margot's is such 
 a very peculiar nature, so slow in according her friendship there she 
 is like me but most loyal when her friendship has once been given I 
 I could tell you many instances which would quite convince you
 
 A REACTION 67 
 
 that she and your Allen are admirable friends now you must have 
 noticed how constantly they are together. I assure you, I never 
 remember her allowing anyone to monopolise her society before. I 
 was quite surprised.' 
 
 ' They are a good deal together,' he admitted. ' I suppose, as 
 you say so, they get on better than they seem to.' 
 
 ' Surely you must see for yourself how much his manners have 
 altered for the better it is a little education in itself, being really 
 intimate with a frank, fresh, highbred girl as, although I am her 
 mother, I can't help seeing that she is; and there is no idea of 
 anything but ordinary friendship on either side. Margot is quite 
 free from any foolish desire to turn a boy's head you need not be 
 afraid of that.' 
 
 ' If she chose to turn it, and marry him, I don't know that I 
 should have much to say against it,' said Chadwick ; ' but I daresay 
 that wouldn't suit you you don't mind associating with us out 
 here, but if it came to any talk of more, why, it would be good- 
 night, I suppose ? ' 
 
 ' You are very, very unjust ! ' said Mrs. Chevening. ' Who am 
 I to have any ridiculous notions of that sort ? Can you possibly 
 
 imagine I I You evidently do not understand the value I 
 
 put upon our acquaintance. I have been quite dreading to think 
 how soon it would be over ! ' 
 
 ' How over ? ' asked Chadwick. ' We're not so very far from 
 London, where you live. I shall run up now and then, if I don't 
 take a house in town for the season next year. It needn't be over, 
 unless you like.' 
 
 ' People always say that,' she returned ; ' but you will have 
 found other friends in your county before that time, and you will 
 soon think it a bore to come all the way to Chiswick to call on us. 
 I am sure Margot will miss her friend Allen she is so very 
 constant, poor dear.' 
 
 ' Do you mean what you're saying ? ' he replied, bending 
 forward ; ' because ' 
 
 But Mrs. Chevening was not destined to hear the conclusion of 
 this sentence ; for just at that moment a shadow fell between them, 
 and, as they looked up, they saw Margot standing by the orange 
 tree. ' Mr. Chadwick,' she said, with a calmness which seemed to 
 cost her some effort, ' I think you had better go to your son. He 
 is making rather a disturbance in there.' 
 
 ' Eh, what ? Allen ! ' said Chadwick, rising. ' What is the 
 matter ? ' 
 
 ' You had better ask him,' said Margot ; ' but there is really no 
 time to be lost.' 
 
 He went in at once, and Margot caught her mother's arm : 
 ' Let us go, mother, quick before they come back ! I can't speak 
 to him, I can't ! ' she said hurriedly. Her eyebrows were con- 
 tracted, and her eyes looked dark and excited in the glare that 
 came through the open doors. Mrs. Chevening saw at once that 
 
 r 2
 
 68 THE PARIAH 
 
 something was very wrong indeed. ' Don't ask me about it here- 
 let us go, let us get away from this place first ! ' said Margot. 
 
 'You will certainly be better at home,' said her mother, sup- 
 pressing her displeasure as well as she might, as they went down by 
 the steps from the terrace, and one of the black-liveried and silver- 
 chained htiiysicrs obsequiously let them through the gate. 
 
 When they were walking along the planks in the darkness, 
 Mrs. Chevening said : ' Now, perhaps, you will tell me what this 
 means ? * 
 
 ' He tried to cheat, mother ! ' cried Margot. ' Twice ! I thought 
 it might be a mistake the first time but the second they found 
 him out, and he dared he dared to try to get me to screen him I ' 
 
 ' What did you say to him ? What did you do ? ' 
 
 ' I ? Nothing. I left him and came to you ; and he was 
 making such a scene everyone was looking at us ! Oh, mother, if 
 you knew how ashamed I feel to have been there ! ' 
 
 Margot's indignation and disgust were not unnatural under the 
 circumstances, for, as it happened, the number which Allen had 
 drawn on the occasion had not attracted her attention. She had 
 heard him say his horse had lost and had seen him tear up his 
 ticket, and so she was horrified to see him pick up another and 
 present it as if he had won. 
 
 Policy induced Mrs. Chevening to take a charitable and, though 
 she did not suspect it, a correct view of the matter. You must 
 have been mistaken,' she said ; ' it is absurd to imagine that a young 
 man who has plenty of pocket-money, as I know, would cheat for a 
 lew paltry francs ! ' 
 
 ' I arn not mistaken,' said Margot. ' I was there and saw it. 
 If he has plenty it makes it all the worse. I am not surprised ; I 
 knew he was like that. I forced myself to endure him because 3-011 
 wished it ; you will not ask me to humiliate myself any longer after 
 this. You will not, will you ? ' 
 
 ' I am sure it can all be explained,' said Mrs. Chevming. 
 
 1 If you like to listen to any explanations, of coursfc he may give 
 them, but not to me. I will never speak to him again. I mean it, 
 mother. I have borne it too long. You must tell him not to 
 expect that I shall take the slightest notice of him. 1 
 
 ' That is absurd ! ' said her mother. ' How can yon avoid it in a 
 place like this ? ' 
 
 ' I will avoid it. I will keep in my room rather than see him 
 and have to speak to him. If he meets me and dares to behave as 
 if nothing had happened, he shall know what I think of him ! ' 
 declared angry Margot. 
 
 ' Then, my dear,' said Mrs. Chevening, ' you will do more 
 mischief than you have any idea of.'
 
 AN UNEXPECTED DELIVEKANCB 69 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 AN UNEXPECTED DELIVEKANCB. 
 
 O, he's as tedious 
 Aa is a tired horte, a railing wife ; 
 Worse than a smoky house : I had rather live 
 "With cheese and garlic in a windmill, far, 
 Than feed on cakes, and have him talk to me ! 
 
 Henry IV. Part I. Act 3. 
 
 Gone, and the light gone with her, and left me in shadow here ! 
 
 Gone flitted away, 
 Taken the stars from the night and the sun from the day ! 
 
 The Window. 
 
 MRS. CHEVENING said no more just then, and Margot, having given 
 expression to her long pent-up indignation, was wise enough to 
 remain content, EO that they reached the Californie in silence. 
 Two tired waiters, possibly the equestrians of that afternoon, were 
 reposing on the divans in the hall, and rose guiltily as they entered. 
 As Margot sat opposite her mother in the lift she thought how 
 sharp and haggard her features looked. ' I'm tired, mother,' she 
 said, as soon as they were alone in the sitting-room of their suite ; 
 ' and I'm sure you are. I think I'll go to bed at once.' 
 
 ' You will stay for a few minutes, if you please,' said Mrs. 
 Chevening, as she untied her evening cloak with hands that were 
 not as steady as usual. ' I want to talk to you a little first, about 
 about the Chadwicks.' 
 
 Margot sat down with a resigned air. ' Haven't we talked 
 about them enough ? ' she protested. 
 
 ' I want to know if you were serious in what you said down 
 there. Am I to understand that you mean to decline all intercourse 
 whatever with that boy or what ? ' 
 
 ' I should like to, but I suppose I can't really do that without a 
 fuss. I shall certainly refuse to go anywhere alone with him.' 
 
 ' You know perfectly well that I have never wished you to do 
 that at any time I have always been close at hand.' 
 
 ' But I have had to walk with him, to sit next to him, listen to 
 him,' cried Margot impetuously. ' I will not do that any more.' 
 
 ' You mean to show him publicly that you do not consider him 
 fit to speak to you ? ' 
 
 4 He is nut fit to speak to me,' she said proudly. ' Even if this 
 had never happened, mother, you must know really that I ought not 
 to be forced to treat him as an equal ; his very accent is enough, he is 
 hopelessly common and underbred. I bore everything till to-night ; 
 but can you wish me to let myself be seen with someone who has 
 been found out cheating in a public place like that ? ' 
 
 ' I will spare you all future annoyance from him,' said Mrs.
 
 70 THE PARIAH 
 
 Chevening, 'but I must have your promise that 3-011 will act 
 sensibly about this. The poor young man has been badly brought 
 up, and that is very deplorable, no doubt, but we ought to pity him. 
 I can't believe myself that you have not been mistaken in what 
 3'ou thought you saw ; but think of his poor father's feelings if you 
 humiliate his son as you seem bent upon doing.' 
 
 ' Is it my fault if he behaves so as to deserve it ? ' she said. 
 
 ' Mr. Chadwick may be a valuable friend to us some day,' retorted 
 her mother. ' You know nothing of the world, Margot, nor how 
 every year makes it more difficult for me to live and keep out of 
 debt. Your brother and sisters are growing up, and I he awake 
 night after night, wondering how I am to provide for them ah 1 , and 
 what will become of them if anything happens to me. But you 
 think nothing of anyone but yourself you leave me to make all 
 the sacrifices, to bear all the burden alone you will do nothing to 
 help ! ' 
 
 ' Does that mean,' Margot exclaimed, ' that you hope Mr. 
 Chadwick will lend you money? Surely we have not sunk to 
 that ! ' 
 
 ' You must mean to insult me by even suggesting such a thing 1 ' 
 said Mrs. Chevening passionately. ' How am I to make you under- 
 stand that it is your duty to me, to your brother and sisters, to obey 
 me in what I ask ? You must not allow this young man to see any 
 difference in your manner, do you hear, you must not ! I must 
 have your promise before you leave the room.' 
 
 Margot's hands were entwining themselves feverishly upon the 
 gaudy velvet table-cover. 'Mother dear,' she said earnestly, 'it's 
 no use ; if I gave a promise I could not keep it, it is asking too 
 much it is indeed ! I know what you want ; you are hoping that 
 I might bring myself some day to accept him. I told you before 
 that I could not do that not even for you and the others. You 
 must give up the idea nothing would ever make me listen for a 
 single moment ! ' 
 
 ' Am I to tell you again,' said her mother impatiently, ' that I 
 am not asking you to do anything of the sort ? I simply ask you 
 to have a little charity, a little patience, not to do or say a^thing 
 that can make any breach. Come, you will not be so obstinate and 
 unreasonable as to refuse that ? ' 
 
 It seemed to Margot that if she did not make a stand then, she 
 would find herself pledged to more than she could fulfil. She felt 
 absolutely unable to promise to restrain the contempt she felt for 
 Allen Chadwick after what had happened it was not right that she 
 should be called upon to do so. 
 
 ' I do refuse,' she said firmly. ' I detest him, and I wish him to 
 know that I do.' 
 
 ' Then,' said Mrs. Chevening, ' I will not keep you here. You 
 shall go back to-morrow.' 
 
 If she had any hope of impressing her daughter by this threat, 
 she was undeceived.
 
 AN UNEXPECTED DELIVERANCE 71 
 
 Do you mean it really mean it ? ' cried Margot. 'Go back to 
 Littlehampton to-morrow and see the children again get away 
 from those two Chadwicks ? Mother, it sounds too delightful to be 
 true !' 
 
 ' Delightful or not,' replied her mother frostily, ' I mean what I 
 say. I shall go with you as far as Honfleur to-morrow, and see you 
 on board the Littlehampton boat, so you had better have all your 
 things ready in time for the mid-day diligence.' 
 
 ' Then you are not going to Littlehampton, too ? ' cried Margot 
 in surprise. 
 
 ' Certainly not, at present. I am very well content with Trou- 
 ville, and I can trust myself, though it seems I cannot trust my 
 daughter, to stay for a few days without insulting people who are 
 only anxious to be our friends. It is no pleasure to me to travel 
 any distance with a disobedient, ungrateful girl, I assure you.' 
 
 Margot tried to assume a proper degree of concern, but in her 
 joy at this unhoped-for escape, it is to be feared that her mother's 
 displeasure did not cloud her spirits very perceptibly, and her chief 
 alarm that night was lest Mrs. Chevening should change her mind 
 by morning. 
 
 But that lady was evidently in earnest; she secured places by the 
 diligence and sent off a telegram to Miss Henderson, her governess, 
 at the earliest possible moment, and so managed matters that Margot 
 and she were on the top of the shabby old Honfleur diligence, which 
 was toiling up the hill above Trouville at the very time when Mr. 
 Chadwick and his son were searching for them diligently on the 
 sands. 
 
 Margot drew a deep breath of relief as they came out on the level 
 road along the cliff. Behind lay Trouville and Deauville, glancing 
 and shining in the sun. Pleasant as were some of the memories they 
 held, her more recent experiences made her anxious to turn her back 
 on them; there she could just make out the imposing mass of the 
 Casino at the landward end of the long curved jetties with the 
 white lighthouses, as it all lay spread out below. Devoutly she 
 thanked Providence that she would never again be compeUed to walk 
 through those rooms under Allen Chadwick' s escort. And on her left 
 was the sparkling blue sea, which she would cross that night to find 
 herself by morning at Littlehampton, with Ida and Reggie, and her 
 favourite Lettice. What a relief the placid respectability of that 
 not too lively watering-place would be after Trouville ! So she 
 mused, and her spirits grew lighter and lighter as the diligence 
 jingled drowsily along under the branching trees, through Henne- 
 queville with its little church, where Margot had seen the model 
 votive ships hanging up from the dim rafters, past Villerville 
 with its narrow empty streets of tall houses, and down into hilly 
 Honfleur. 
 
 The Littlehampton steamer was lying alongside one of the quays, 
 and was to start at dusk, and Mrs. Chevening, who had preserved 
 an injured silence throughout the drive, secured a passage, and
 
 72 THE PARIAH 
 
 Margot and she had a parting meal, which neither found an agree- 
 able one, at one of the hotels before going on board the boat. 
 
 ' I must leave you now,' said Mrs. Chevening coldly. ' I wish 
 you had not compelled me to send you away in this manner, but I 
 have spoken to the stewardess, and Miss Henderson will meet you 
 at Littlehampton, so you will be safe enough. Good-bye, Margot. 
 I hope on reflection you will see how foolish and wrong you have 
 been.' 
 
 '"Good-bye, dear,' said Margot, a little piteously. ' Don't be angry 
 with me, and and you will be with us very soon, won't you ? ' 
 
 ' You will hear that is, I shall let Miss Henderson know when 
 to expect me.' And Mrs. Chevening, after going on board the 
 packet and confiding Margot to the care of the stewardess with a 
 recommendation to keep as much in the ladies' cabin as possible, 
 departed to catch the return diligence to Trouville. She did not 
 altogether like leaving her in this way, but she had no other course 
 unless she quitted Trouville, too, which did not suit her conveni- 
 ence. Margot, besides, was perfectly capable of taking care of 
 herself, and the governess would be on the quay to meet her next 
 morning. 
 
 Margot was conscious of being in disgrace, and though she was 
 too proud to show it, she felt the frigidity with which her mother 
 took leave of her. Still her chief sensation was always relief re- 
 lief at the knowledge that by to-morrow she would have put the 
 Channel between herself and her incubus, Allen Chadwick. She 
 could not repent of the firmness which had procured her release. 
 And then she was going to her family, the sisters and brother who 
 were more to her than anyone else in the world. So that, before the 
 steamer left the harbour, Miss Chevening had forgotten all that was 
 unpleasant and fallen asleep in a state of perfect contentment. 
 
 Nowhere on Trouville sands could Mr. Chadwick discern the 
 becoming foulard costume which was Mrs. Chevening's usual morn- 
 ing dress. He felt a little lost without a companion to whom he 
 had grown so accustomed, and his son did not succeed in consoling 
 him for the deprivation. 
 
 At dejeuner she and her daughter were absent from their usual 
 places, but still he merely thought that they were away on some 
 excursion for the day. ' If she'd told me she wanted to go anywhere,' 
 he repeated, ' we could have all gone together.' Allen said nothing 
 for some time, until, late in the afternoon, he put into words a fear 
 that had been growing. ' You don't think they've gone for good ? ' 
 he suggested. 
 
 ' "Without so much as a good-bye, after the way we've been about 
 together ? ' said his father. ' No, I certainly don't think that. But 
 it's odd, because at the Casino last night ' 
 
 ' Do you think she they were angry with me for having 
 that row with the cashier chap ? ' said Allen flushing. ' That was 
 when I last saw Miss Margot. I looked round, and she was gone. 
 I've been wondering why ever since.'
 
 AN UNEXPECTED DELIVERANCE 73 
 
 Do you know why she went, eh ? She came to tell me you 
 were in a mess of some sort, and ask me to go to you. What do 
 you think of that ? She was as flustered and eager as if you'd 
 been her own brother. I believe she thought the establishment were 
 going to do something very bad to you ! ' 
 
 A great weight was off Allen's mind ; he was overjoyed to hear 
 for the first time that stately Miss Chevening had concerned herself 
 on his account ; it gave a new fervour to his devotion. He had 
 been tormenting himself with fantastic fears that she had resented 
 his playing at the Petits Chevaux, and had gone away in disgust. 
 
 ' So she did stay, till that began ? ' he exclaimed. ' I wish she 
 had seen the finish of it. Why, they gave in directly they saw I 
 was the only claimant. I wasn't going to see them do me out of 
 iny winnings, no fear, if I had torn up the ticket ! ' 
 
 ' Well, you can tell her all about it at dinner to-night. She 
 regularly frightened me at first. I expected to find you in for a 
 duel pistols or swords first thing in the morning ! She was so 
 upset she got her mother to take her home at once, and that's how 
 we missed them.' 
 
 But at the table d'hote that evening Mr. Chadwick found one of 
 the waiters drawing back Mrs. and Miss Chevening' s chairs for 
 two strangers. ' Here, garcon, hold on,' he said ; ' those two are 
 engaged those ladies, who always sit here you know that well 
 enough.' 
 
 ' Pardon, but they have leave ; they have their baggages by the 
 omnibus for the diligence to Honfleur this morning. I was to see 
 them depart,' said the waiter with a grin. 
 
 Mr. Chadwick was plainly highly disconcerted by this informa- 
 tion, though he passed it off at the time. ' All right,' he said ; ' it's 
 all the same to me don't like seeing people turned out of their 
 proper seats, that's all.' 
 
 But afterwards he waxed exceedingly bitter over it to Allen. ' I 
 can't understand it,' he said over and over again ; ' it beats me. I 
 suppose I've been away from England so long. But if ever a 
 woman regularly went out of her way to be friendly she did. And 
 the money I've spent to make things pleasant and agreeable for 
 her ! Not that I grudge it, that's neither here nor there, but to go 
 off without a word or even a line to say she was sorry to have to go, 
 or hoped we might meet again, or anything of the sort ! If that's 
 Society manners, all I can say is, no more fine ladies for me ! 
 Just make use of you as long as it's convenient, and then throw 
 you off like one of their gloves ! I'm downright disgusted with the 
 pair of them. I thought they had more gratitude ! ' 
 
 ' Perhaps they couldn't help themselves I mean, going away 
 so suddenly,' suggested Allen ; it was what he wanted to believe 
 himself, and anything that was a reflection on Margot gave him a 
 curious pain. The suggestion, however, drew down his father's 
 anger upon his own head. 
 
 ' Couldn't help themselves ? Yon don't know what you are
 
 74 THE PARIAH 
 
 talking about ! I tell you they could have helped themselves if 
 they'd chosen to. And now I come to think of it, it's as likely as 
 not that that precious affair at the Casino last night did the 
 business ! ' 
 
 ' But,' stammered Allen, ' didn't you say Hiss Margot came and 
 told you to come to me ? There was no disgrace in what I did ! ' 
 
 1 The mother may have got hold of some garbled account. She's 
 a proud-tempered woman, and naturally she wouldn't like her 
 daughter to be seen going about with a fellow who'd got himself 
 mixed up in a public row at the Casino. About a few paltry francs, 
 too ! ' he burst out, allowing his wrath to escape by this con- 
 venient channel. ' I wish to God you could break yourself of these 
 low ways and behave more like a gentleman ! I'd have paid you 
 the money ten times over sooner than have this happen ! What'a 
 the good of my going and making acquaintances if you drive 'era 
 out of the place ? ' 
 
 This was the first time that Mr. Chadwick had spoken to hia 
 son in anger, and the first time, also, that he had ever seemed to 
 show any consciousness of his son's deficiencies. Allen was silent, 
 stunned almost by this tirade, but what affected him chieily was a 
 terrible fear that his father was right. 
 
 The blow had been bitter enough as it was ; he could hardly 
 realise even yet that he had lost his beautiful companion without the 
 slightest warning, but the thought that his own folly was the cause 
 was intolerable. Yet he made no effort to defend himself ; he felt 
 a singular reluctance to speaking of Miss Chevening to his father 
 at all, and he dreaded lest, if he said anything more, he might be 
 compelled to give up the last lingering hope that he had had no 
 share in bringing about her sudden departure. 
 
 Miss Chevening had been, for her, quite gracious of late, and he 
 had never luckily for his peace of mind suspected the dislike 
 and contempt that lay beneath her passive endurance of him. As 
 he became more at ease with her, he found himself able to talk, 
 and her replies gave him no impression other than that she was a 
 little absent-minded sometimes. 
 
 So that Allen, for the first time in his life, had passed a sort of 
 enchanted existence, privileged to accompany, day after day, this 
 lovely princess who hardly seemed to belong to ordinary life, and 
 whom he did not expect to treat him quite as an equal. It was 
 enough for him that she allowed him to be with her, spoke to him 
 now and the'n of her own accord, and smiled, ever so indifferently, 
 on rare occasions. 
 
 She was gone. All the people and things he saw had associations 
 of some kind with her. He noted them inwardly as he walked on 
 by his father's side, and at each he felt his heart grow sorer and 
 heavier, and he hardly heard the elder man's stormy reproaches as 
 his anger vented itself in rapid alternation upon Mrs. Chevening, 
 her daughter, and his son. Anyone who had seen the pair walk- 
 ing along the resounding boards would have noticed no more than
 
 AN UNEXPECTED DELIVERANCE VO 
 
 a high-coloured, loose-mouthed man apparently lecturing a sulky, 
 common-looking youth, who appeared absolutely unimpressed, and 
 impenitent. Of the utter blankness, the inward dragging pain that 
 Allen was feeling, he gave and could give no sign whatever. 
 
 So throughout the remainder of that miserable day Mr. Chadwick 
 indulged his feelings, and Allen listened with a sense that nothing 
 mattered very much now ; he would almost rather have been still 
 drudging away at his desk in the city warehouse than suffer the 
 desolation that had come upon him. 
 
 The next morning when they came in to dejeuner, Mr. Chad- 
 wick still occupied with his grievance, there sat Mrs. Chevening 
 in her usual place, fresh and smiling and serene ! Allen felt his 
 heart leap. Had a miracle happened, then ? Would he see Margot 
 again after all? 
 
 His father stared as if he had seen a ghost. He could not throw 
 off his resentment all at once it had struck too deep. He nodded 
 brusquely as he sat down. 
 
 ' They told me here you'd left Trouville,' he said. 'Did you 
 think better of it, or what ? ' 
 
 ' Surely you had a better opinion of me than that ! ' cried Mrs. 
 Chevening, plaintively. ' As if I should have gone away altogether 
 without thanking you for all your kindness. What must you think 
 of me ? ' 
 
 ' Well, so long as you're not gone,' said Chadwick, his face 
 clearing. ' We couldn't think, my boy and I, what had become of 
 you all yesterday.' 
 
 ' It was all so very sudden,' said Mrs. Chevening, who had pre- 
 pared herself for this emergency. 'You know I have left my 
 younger darlings at Littlehampton, in lodgings, my second child is 
 so deh'cate. Well, only yesterday morning, Margot had a letter in 
 which Ida begged her so pathetically not to stay away much 
 longer that Margot insisted that she must be worse and begged 
 to go at once. Dear Margot is so perfectly devoted to Ida, and 
 she to her, and so, though it was quite absurd, as I told her, and I 
 really couldn't leave Trouville myself so soon, unless I was wanted, 
 I saw it would be too cruel to keep Margot, and I took her over to 
 Honfleur and put her on board the boat for Littlehampton. Poor 
 darling, it was only her sense of duty made her go. She was quite 
 sorry to go when it came to parting 1 ' 
 
 Like many of Mrs. Chevening's mis-statements, this contained 
 a certain amount of truth. There had been a letter, which came as 
 they were starting, and which expressed Ida's longing for her 
 sister's return. 
 
 Allen's hopes subsided as quickly as they had risen, and yet his 
 worst fears were relieved she had not left on his account. 
 
 ' Sorry she deserted us like that,' said his father ; ' but very 
 creditable to her, I'm sure. Allen will have to amuse himself 
 alone now.' 
 
 Dear Margot was so anxious that I should explain,' said her
 
 76 THE PARIAH 
 
 mother mendaciously. ' She quite hoped to have seen him before 
 leaving. I was to deliver all manner of kind messages. She is so 
 warmhearted ; she felt so afraid of seeming ungrateful, and I think 
 she will miss her Trouville companion,' she added graciously. 
 
 Allen coloured to the eyes. ' I shall miss her, ma'am,' he said 
 awkwardly ; but he was almost consoled she had remembered 
 him, she liked him better than she had let him see, then he fell 
 into a rapture of adoration at the thought. 
 
 Later, when he had gone, and Mr. Chadwick was sitting with 
 Mrs. Chevening alone in the big hall, he said, still a little sus- 
 piciously, ' What made you leave the Casino the other evening so 
 suddenly ? ' 
 
 Mrs. Chevening had her answer ready. ' It was very foolish of 
 me,' she said, ' but Margot was so terribly upset she thought 
 Allen was in some trouble, and I really had to take her home. You 
 know or perhaps you don't know that she almost looks upon 
 him as a sort of big brother, she was so interested in him from the 
 very first. I hope,' she ventured, feeling herself on rather delicate 
 ground, ' that there was no no quarrel or unpleasantness ? ' 
 
 ' Lord, no ! ' said Mr. Chadwick ; ' it was their mistake they 
 acknowledged it before I came up ' and he explained how the 
 affair had ended. 
 
 ' Poor Allen ! ' Mrs. Chevening commented ; ' how insolent these 
 croupier men are 1 Margot will be so anxious to hear how it ended, 
 she spoke of nothing else all the evening. How clever of him to 
 insist on his rights and not let himself be cheated ! ' 
 
 ' Oh, he's a smart chap in some ways,' said his father, in 
 whose opinion Allen was now quite restored. ' That's where a 
 business training comes in, you see ; makes 'ein know the value 
 of money, and take care they're not done. So your Miss Margot 
 was making herself unhappy about it, eh ? Well, I like that. I 
 didn't think, between ourselves, she took so much interest in him.' 
 
 ' You don't know Margot ! She does not easily attach herself, 
 but when her liking is once gained it may sound conceited to say 
 eo, but I do think any young man might be proud to have my 
 daughter for a friend. She is not easy to please. Perhaps you 
 noticed that she would scarcely have anything to say to that Mr. 
 Orme, clever and self-confident as he was ? ' 
 
 ' I don't know that I noticed one way or the other,' said Mr. 
 Chadwick bluntly ; ' but you don't think there's any chance that 
 Allen might eh ? ' 
 
 ' No,' said Mrs. Chevening ; ' oh, dear no ; pray don't imagine 
 that for an instant it is quite what I said ; she looks upon him as 
 a big brother, who has never had a sister of his own a sister can 
 do so much for a young man. I always think, you know, that 
 nothing can quite supply the want of female influence in a boy's 
 life.' 
 
 ' He had his aunt,' said Mr. Chadwick ; ' but I know what you 
 mean, he is rough, poor chap ; he don't feel at home in a drawing-
 
 AN UNEXPECTED DELIVERANCE 77 
 
 room, even alone with me. I wish I could see my way clearer, 
 for my sake, as well as his ! ' He said no more at the time 
 but Mrs. Chevening knew that her words had not been lost upon 
 him. 
 
 Margot was able to sleep on board the steamer, which is more 
 than she would have done had she foreseen the kind of colour with 
 which her secession would be invested by her mother's policy. 
 She woke early, however, and went on deck, eager to see the 
 familiar coast-line once more ; and, as she reached the top of the 
 brass-edged steps, she saw a face she did not immediately recognise, 
 though its owner had evidently a better memory. ' You know me 
 well enough, miss, though it may 'not suit yon to own to it,' said 
 the woman, and at the voice Margot knew at once that she had 
 had the ill-tempered nursemaid Susan for a fellow-passenger. 
 
 Susan was looking, and knew she was looking, woefully green 
 and dishevelled beside Margot, whose face even in the raw morning 
 air, was almost as fresh and fair as if she had never left the shore. 
 Perhaps this gave an additional acerbity to the maid's manner. 
 ' I've reason enough to remember you, miss,' she added, s and I 
 shan't forget you in a hurry.' 
 
 ' I remember you perfectly,' said Margot. ' If the sight of me 
 reminds you to treat your unfortunate charge more kindly, I hope 
 you never will forget me,' and she was about to turn away and 
 think no more of it, but the girl placed herself in her way, and 
 Margot saw that she was trembling with passion. 
 
 ' I wouldn't be a nippercrit, miss,' she said. ' I'd have the 
 courage of my opinions, I would.' 
 
 Miss Chevening's eyes :opened to their haughtiest width. ' I 
 haven't the slightest idea what you're talking about,' she said in her 
 low incisive tones ; ' but you needn't explain, I don't want to know 
 in the least.' 
 
 1 Ah, but I want you to know,' said Susan. ' You don't take me 
 in with your innocent ways and pretended ignorance. You look a 
 proud one, but you don't think it beneath you to hound a poor girl 
 out of her place behind her back. My missis, as was a lady if ever 
 there was one, though French, she'd never have give me notice but 
 for tale-tellers coming telling lies against me. I know better, don't 
 talk to me ! ' 
 
 ' I don't intend to,' said Margot. 
 
 1 No, you can't face me that's how it is,' said Susan, sticking 
 her hands into the pockets of her smart ulster. ' No wonder, taking 
 the bread out of my mouth as you have, and anomalous too so 
 mean ! ' 
 
 Miss Chevening began to be afraid that a crowd would collect 
 round them, but fortunately the few passengers who were on deck 
 had gone forward, and Susan's voice, which was growing louder 
 and more violent, was drowned by the din and carried aft by the 
 breeze. 
 
 ' Listen to me, you foolish girl,' said Margot. ' If your mistress
 
 78 THE PARIAH 
 
 has sent you away for not treating her son properly, it is only what 
 you deserve and I am glad of it. Still, if you have no friends to 
 go to and want help while you are looking for another place, I 
 would willingly ' 
 
 ' Take your money after what you've done ! ' said the girl. ' I'd 
 rather die in the workhouse. Luckily for me, I'm in no want of 
 friends nor money neither, so you won't undo what you've done 
 that way. You must feel yourself you've acted shabby, or you 
 wouldn't make such a offer ! ' 
 
 Margot's patience gave way at this. ' You are an ungrateful 
 idiot,' she said contemptuously, 'or you wouldn't have such ideas 
 at all ; but if it gives you any comfort to believe that I accused you 
 secretly, go on believing it by all means, it can make no difference 
 to me, only be so good as to leave me in peace.' 
 
 ' That's an easy way to put it off,' said Susan ; ' but, never mind, 
 perhaps some day your turn'll come, and you'll see how yoii like 
 such treatment. I've said all I mean to say, and, now you know 
 what I think of you, I'll say good morning and thanks for past 
 fa vein's received and may I live to see 'em returned ! ' 
 
 Margot was indignant though a little amused, too, that this 
 unamiable girl should regard her as an anonymous persecutor, but 
 she was too supremely indifferent to dream of trying to convince 
 the ex-nurse of her mistake, and perhaps to attempt it might have 
 been trouble thrown away. So Susan landed and went on her way, 
 more firmly convinced than ever that she owed the loss of her 
 situation with the wealthy Parisians to Margot Chevening instead, 
 as was actually the case, to one of her foreign fellow -servants. 
 
 CHAPTEE IX. 
 
 A CLOUD FROM ACROSS THE SEA. 
 
 IT was a week since Margot's abrupt departure from Normandy, 
 and as yet her mother had fixed no date for rejoining her family at 
 Littlehampton, nor for their general return to London. She had 
 written, it was true, but only to Miss Henderson, and to the effect 
 that the lodgings should be retained until she wrote again. ' It's 
 too bad of mother to keep us in this poky little place,' Ida declared 
 fretfully. ' I am quite strong again now, and I'm sure there's nothing 
 here to stay for longer than one can possibly help.' They were 
 walking along the shore towards Worthing Margot, Ida, and Miss 
 Henderson and as she spoke Ida turned and looked back at the 
 row of lodging-houses, the windmills, and the unassuming little 
 jetty and lighthouse, which, gilded by the September haze, com- 
 prised the main features of Littlehampton. ' Ida, daiiing,' protested 
 the governess, ' don't be ungrateful remember what you were when 
 you came and what you are now.' There was nothing of the invalid
 
 A CLOUD FROM ACROSS THE SEA 79 
 
 in Ida Chevening's appearance just then. Tall a little too tail, 
 perhaps, for a girl of sixteen she promised a figure as faultless as 
 her elder sister's when her strength should be completely regained, 
 and the transitionary period was passed. She would be beautiful, 
 too, though her face would never have the animation and deci- 
 sion which made Margot's so difficult to forget. She was indolent 
 and somewhat weak by nature, and delicate health had encouraged 
 her disposition to cling to others. She was impulsive, and, per- 
 haps from being so much in Miss Henderson's company, decidedly 
 sentimental, not to say affected. Miss Henderson was the type of 
 governess least fitted for the charge of a girl of Ida's age and dispo- 
 sition. She was young and produced a first impression of being 
 good-looking Ida thought her lovely, and was constantly assuring 
 her of the fact. She had a few showy accomplishments, no solid 
 education. She knew how to behave, especially when Mrs. 
 Chevening was present, but it was always behaviour, not breeding, 
 as her patroness perceived clearly enough, though she saw no rea- 
 son for parting with her on that account. ' Henderson was useful 
 and cheap ; she made no inconvenient fuss when her salary was 
 (as happened not infrequently) in arrears ; the children liked her, 
 she would do well enough,' thought Mrs. Chevening, who, in fact, 
 could not afford to risk a change. But between Margot and Miss 
 Henderson there was always a certain distance : Miss Chevening 
 instinctively disliking certain slight but unmistakable indications 
 of underbreeding which revealed themselves in the other's more 
 unguarded moments, and the governess perceiving and resenting a 
 coolness which she chose to ascribe to jealousy. 
 
 Ida, however, was an enthusiastic heroine-worshipper, and saw 
 no shortcomings. ' If I'm well now,' she said in answer to Miss 
 Henderson's last remonstrance, ' I owe it all to you, dear darling 
 Hennie. I believe I should have died if it hadn't been for you ! ' 
 
 'You were certainly very ill when we came, and that night I 
 sat up with you was an awfully anxious one for us all, dearest Ida,' 
 said the governess. ' That was after you had gone to Trouville, ' 
 she explained to Margot. 
 
 ' I think it was a pity you did not tell us at the time, then,' said 
 Margot. ' The doctor assured us that you were quite out of danger, 
 Ida, or I would never have left you.' 
 
 ' I wouldn't have you told,' said Ida. 'You mustn't blame poor 
 Hennie.' And she took the governess's hand and fondled it affec- 
 tionately. To Margot, who had considerable doubts of any real 
 relapse at all, this seemed unhealthy and exaggerated, but she was 
 too deeply attached to her sister to be capable of saying a word to 
 check her effusions, and besides it would only weaken such influence 
 as she still retained over Ida. 
 
 ' But I am longing to get away from this place,' continued Ida 
 presently ; ' it is too horridly slow. Don't you hate it, Margot ? 
 But no I believe you actually like it ! ' 
 
 ' I believe I actually do,' said Margot, laughing, and she spoke
 
 80 THE PARIAH 
 
 the truth. After all the bustle and glare of Trouville, there was 
 something restful and quieting in the unpretentious little Sussex 
 watering-place, to say nothing of the unspeakable relief she felt at 
 her deliverance from Allen Chadwick. And it was such a lovely after- 
 noon, with a lazy purple sea lapping far away, and the sky above 
 their heads a perfect a7.ure, repeated in the rills which channelled 
 the sands. There was a touch of autumn chill in the air, and the 
 reeds and bushes along the low coast were turning yellow and 
 russet, but she felt braced and invigorated as she trod the elastic 
 sand, on which the gulls had left their footprints in innumerable 
 little tridents. She was too happy just then to remember with any 
 regret that other shore across the sea where she had had one experi- 
 ence at least that she could look back upon without reluctance. But 
 even Nugent Orme had not left an ineffaceable impression on her 
 mind. Any element of romance Trouville might have contained 
 for her had been slain by other recollections, and besides, Mr. 
 Orme was in England somewhere. There was not much to inspirit 
 her in that fact, but somehow it filled up the measure of her 
 content in being where she was. 
 
 ' I can't think how you can endure it ! ' Ida declared, ' especi- 
 ally after Trouville. I am sure Trouville must have been lovely. I 
 would never have left it till I was obliged. You never tell us any- 
 thing about what you did there, Margot. It's rather mean of you.' 
 
 ' There is so very little to tell. I was very glad to get away 
 from it,' said Margot. 
 
 ' But why ? It must have been better fun than this. Weren't 
 the people at the hotel pleasant ? Was it mother or what ? ' 
 
 ' Some of the people were not very pleasant,' said Margot. 
 
 ' Mother wouldn't know people who were not all right, would 
 she ? She's generally so awfully particular.' 
 
 ' She knew these people,' said Margot. ' They were quite respect- 
 able. He was, or had been, an indigo-planter, I believe, and very 
 well off; but well, I disliked them.' 
 
 1 Was there a Mrs. Indigo -planter ? ' inquired Ida ; ' was it she ? ' 
 
 1 There was only this Mr. Chadwick,' said Margot looking out 
 to sea, ' and and his son.' 
 
 ' Now we're beginning to be told something,' said Miss Hender- 
 son, slily ; ' please go on.' 
 
 ' There is nothing to tell, Camilla, as it happens,' said Margot. 
 
 ' But the son made love to you I'm sure he did, now didn't he ? ' 
 
 ' Thank goodness, no ; he would not have dared,' said Margot. 
 1 You are so very romantic, Camilla. But it was quite bad enough 
 as it was ; and, if you please, we won't talk about it any more, it is 
 over now.' 
 
 ' Just tell us this, and we won't want to know any more,' said 
 Ida. ' Was he handsome ? I'm sure he was handsome and 
 rather conceited ; wasn't he, Margot ? ' 
 
 ' You are quite a witch, dear,' Margot replied, with rather a 
 malicious little laugh.
 
 A CLOUD FROM ACROSS THE SEA 81 
 
 ' Poor Margot,' said Ida, sympathetically ; ' never mind, it will 
 all come right in time.' 
 
 ' It has come right already,' said Margot, lightly ; ' and now 
 suppose we drop the Chadwicks : it is tune to turn back.' 
 
 They walked back by the shore, and as they reached Little- 
 hampton and were tramping over the shingle to the modest espla- 
 nade, a pretty little figure came fluttering down to meet them. 
 
 ' Why, Lettice,' said Margot, as the child clung to her hand, 
 ' where's nurse ? ' 
 
 4 Nurse ? Oh, she's playing cricket with Beggie on the green 
 somewhere ; she's getting to bowl quite nicely now, you know, 
 though it's a pity she can't bat better. I've been running about 
 with Yarrow, and oh, Margot, I've had quite an adventure ! I had 
 been playing cricket with Beggie, but I got him out three times 
 running and he wouldn't go (that wasn't fair of him, was it ?), so I 
 left him, and then I had the adventure. I was throwing my ball 
 for Yarrow to run after he wouldn't let me alone till I did and 
 there was someone a man, not at all old lying down on the beach, 
 and I didn't mean it, but the ball bounced somehow, and, oh, 
 Margot, what do you think ? it hit him in the eye ! I was divead- 
 fulhj sorry ' (Lettice was eight, but she was still a little uncertain 
 about her r's when excited, and had to bear some teasing from her 
 brother in consequence), ' but I went up and apologised directly, of 
 course, and he said he wasn't hurt much (it was the india-rubber 
 ball), and then he asked me my name, so of course I told him, and 
 then ' (and here Lettice's golden-brown eyes grew larger) ' he asked 
 if I had a sister called Margot, and told me he knew you quite well, 
 and had met you over in France did he meet you, Margot ? ' 
 
 A sudden consciousness deepened Margot's colour. Could it be ? 
 Was Nugent Orme here ? Had he come with any idea of finding 
 her, and if he had ? 
 
 ' I can't tell till I have seen him, can I ? ' she said. ' Very likely 
 I have met him.' 
 
 ' That wasn't all,' said Lettice ; he asked me that was when 
 we got more consequential he asked me " would I mind being his 
 sister some day." ' 
 
 ' He asked you that ? ' exclaimed Margot, with a keen resent- 
 ment. How could Mr. Orme have allowed himself to say such a 
 thing to a child I ' You must have misunderstood him, Lettice.' 
 
 Lettice shook her head. ' But I didn't, Margot, he said it ever 
 so many times he told me it was all settled. Only I do not under- 
 stand how I ever can be his sister do you, Margot ? ' 
 
 ' No, dear,' said Margot. ' He made a very great mistake if he 
 really told you so.' That Nugent Orme could be guilty of such 
 presumption, should actually take her consent for granted in this 
 way, filled her with the keenest vexation, and yet she found it 
 almost impossible to believe. If it should be true, she felt with 
 some bitterness that whatever place he had begun to occupy in her 
 thoughts would be vacant now. What could she have said or done 
 
 G
 
 82 THE PARIAH 
 
 to give him such an impression ? Well, he would learn that he was 
 less irresistible than he seemed to imagine. 
 
 ' But what was he like, this mysterious person ? ' questioned 
 Ida, with a mischievous enjoyment of her elder sister's agitation. 
 ' Describe him, Lettice.' 
 
 Description was not Lettice's strong point. ' He was like well, 
 not like anything in particular,' she said ; ' and I'm sure he said 
 that mother and his father had settled it all, and that I was to be 
 his sister soon.' 
 
 ' His father ! ' exclaimed Margot, with a sudden illumination. 
 It was she who had taken too much for granted, not Nugent Orrne, 
 who had probably never given her a second thought since he left 
 Trouville. And the person who made so sure of her consent was 
 her bete noire the raw lad from whose society she thought she had 
 delivered herself for ever. 
 
 ' It strikes me,' said Miss Henderson to her, ' we have not been 
 told the whole story of your little Trouville romance yet, dear. 
 When are we to know all ? ' 
 
 ' Hun on to the house and tell them we're coming, Lettice,' said 
 Margot, and waiting till the child had gone, she turned to the 
 governess : ' There is nothing to know,' she said a little haughtily. 
 ' I hate that kind of joking, Camilla. If you saw him, you would 
 understand how it annoys me. But what is the use of talking about 
 it ? Nothing that anyone said would change my mind. If this 
 Chadwick boy for that is all he is is really here, you will see him 
 for yourselves, sooner or later. Then you will know.' 
 
 A foreign postcard from mother,' announced Eeggie, who was 
 already seated at the tea-table. ' She'll be here by the steamer 
 to-morrow, and wants Margot to meet her and nobody else. I 
 wonder why we mayn't all go ! ' 
 
 Ida looked at Margot with an almost envious interest ; she was 
 to be a heroine in a real love-affair, then, this beautiful sister of 
 hers ; she would be pressed to accept an unwelcome lover, just as 
 in so many of the novels Hennie and herself had been delighting in 
 of late. Would Margot yield, or remain obstinate ? Either v 
 would be very interesting, Ida thought ; she was sure this planter's 
 son was nice really, if Margot would only see it very likely they 
 had had a quarrel. 
 
 Margot was looking forward to meeting her mother with a cer- 
 tain excitement. Evidently this project of uniting her to young 
 Chadwick was not abandoned. Allen himself apparently regarded 
 it as settled. Margot was not afraid ; she did not see what new 
 arguments her mother could urge that could shake her determina- 
 tion. There might be cases in which a daughter was bound to 
 sacrifice herself for the family, but this was not one of them ; even 
 if it was. she thought, she would have enough strength of mind to 
 repudiate the obligation. No, she felt perfectly safe ; no one could 
 force her to marry against her will. 
 
 And yet, when she was alone that night and lay in her room,
 
 A CLOUD FriOJI ACROSS THE SEA -83 
 
 listening to the monotonous roll of the sea, a sudden, restless 
 dread overcame her as she thought of the steamer which was even 
 then ploughing its way across the waves ; what if it were carrying 
 some sentence which, with all her courage, she would find herself 
 powerless to resist ? She rose at last, from some half- superstitious 
 impulse, and went to the window. The amber harvest moon was 
 casting its shimmer on the calm sea and bathing the little harbour 
 and jetty in mellow radiance, but beyond, where the French coast 
 lay, a black cloud loomed up ominously, and seemed to be shooting 
 a long arm across the sky towards her. With a little laugh at her 
 own weakness; Margot drew the blind, and shut out the sight.
 
 84 THE PARIAH 
 
 BOOK IT. 
 KICKING AGAINST THE PBICKS. 
 
 CHAPTEE I. 
 
 6CYLLA AND CHARYBDIS. 
 
 Thott sweetest sister in the world, hast never a word for me ? 
 
 The Lay of the Brown Rosary. 
 
 Miss CHEVENING had risen betimes next morning and gone down 
 to the quay. It was cold and cloudy, and there was a light 
 autumn fog on the sea, but Margot was sustained against all atmo- 
 spherical influences just then; she was about to know on what 
 grounds her mother conceived that she could exact her submission. 
 The spirit of opposition was roused ; she felt strong enough to meet 
 all appeals with an unflinching negative. And as she passed the 
 quaint old whitewashed hotel, which at that time still stood on an 
 isolated piece of the green, someone, who seemed to have been 
 waiting for this, came out from the porch, and advanced, sheepishly 
 enough, to meet her. Margot watched him with a sardonic amuse- 
 ment ; that clumsy bow and self-conscious flush of his pleased her 
 mood just then this was the person her mother considered a suit- 
 able companion for her for life. 
 
 ' I I thought you'd be likely to come this way,' he said. ' I 
 hope you've been pretty well since I saw you last . . . Margot ? ' 
 He brought out her Christian name with an evident effort, which 
 by its very abjectness disarmed her to some extent ; he seemed too 
 pitiable just then in his humble anxiety to propitiate her. 
 
 ' I am quite well, Mr. Chadwick,' she said. ' I hardly expected 
 to see you so soon are you staying here ? ' 
 
 ' Came over yesterday with the governor,' he explained. ' I was 
 trying to get a sight of you all day, but I didn't like to give you a 
 look up at your lodgings.' 
 
 ' That would have been rather an odd thing to do, would it not ? ' 
 said Margot. 
 
 ' I wanted to tell you something,' he resumed nervously. ' I I 
 dare say you'll laugh, but I haven't been able to get out of my mind 
 that perhaps that night before you went away, at the Casino, you 
 fancied '
 
 SCYLLA AND CHARYBDIS 85 
 
 'Oh, please 1 ' protested Margot, 'don't let us go back to Trou- 
 ville 1 I have forgotten it. I want to forget all that hateful 
 time.' 
 
 ' No, but listen,' he said. ' I'm going down to meet the boat we 
 may as well go together.' And he poured into her unwilling ears 
 a rapid vindication of his behaviour at the Petits Chevaux table. 
 
 'Very well,' said Margot, as he finished; 'but you need not 
 have given yourself so much trouble to tell me all this, Mr. 
 Chadwick. I don't see that it is of very much importance now, 
 you know.' 
 
 ' More than ever, now,' he said. 
 
 Margot felt driven to bay. ' You seem to me to mean something ? 
 You meant something yesterday if it was really you who spoke to 
 my little sister. Will you kindly explain? Did you, or didn't 
 you, inform her that you meant to to become her brother very 
 soon ? ' 
 
 'If I did,' said Allen, 'it was nothing but true surely you've 
 been told all about it ? ' 
 
 ' My consent to such a very desirable arrangement was natur- 
 ally taken for granted ! ' retorted Margot bitterly ; ' still, Mr. Chad- 
 wick, you might have paid me the compliment of waiting.' 
 
 ' I ! ' exclaimed Allen. ' It was none of my doing.' 
 
 ' You are extremely candid,' said Miss Chevening, with a slight 
 laugh, ' I will be candid, too. If anyone has persuaded you to 
 believe that I ' 
 
 ' Stop ! ' cried Allen, with more delicacy than might have been 
 expected from him, perhaps. ' I see what you're thinking. I know 
 well enough you could never come to look on me in that sort of 
 way such a thing never entered my head, indeed it didn't, miss 
 Miss Margot. I know myself better than that. No, it wasn't that 
 I meant.' 
 
 ' I'm afraid I'm very dull,' said Margot, beginning to wish that 
 she could recall that unfortunate speech ; ' but what did you mean, 
 then ? Because I don't see ' 
 
 ' Isn't there another way for us all to live together, and me be a 
 kind of brother to your sisters, and and to you '? ' he said. ' Your 
 mother ' 
 
 Margot stood quite still ; her face was deadly white, her eyes 
 blazed with anger. In a flash her mind went back to those days at 
 Trouville, to her mother's marked encouragement of the ex-indigo 
 planter, their constant companionship, the strange anxiety to pre- 
 vent her from betraying her dislike to the son. In her egotism, 
 she had never suspected that she herself was the least concerned, 
 she had let herself be removed where she could offer no opposition 
 and now it was too late 1 Her head whirled in the rush of fierce 
 anger, impotent protest against this humiliation which her own 
 mother had brought upon them ! 
 
 ' I thought you knew ! ' stammered Allen. ' It was the day after 
 you left ; father told me almost directly. Look here, if you don't
 
 86 THE PARIAH 
 
 believe me, come down to the Custom-House father's there wait- 
 ing ; he'll tell you it's all true ! ' 
 
 ' Don't speak to me ! ' said Margot, closing her eyes for a mo- 
 ment, ' and and go on to the quay alone, please ; you can say, if 
 if you are asked, that I am not well enough to come don't talk, 
 go go ! ' 
 
 She walked back to the little lodging-house parlour and stood in 
 the bow-window looking out over the green, mechanically watching 
 a groom who was exercising a horse there she felt as if she were 
 going mad. 
 
 How long she stood there, with a horrible feeling that her face 
 was a mask with nothing but an aching emptiness behind, she did 
 not know, but presently the children came down to breakfast. 
 ' Hasn't mother conie ? Why hasn't mother come '? Did you go 
 flown to see if she was on the steamer '? Why didn't you go down ? ' 
 were amongst the questions she had to endure from Reggie and 
 Lettice, until the prawns served as a merciful distraction. 
 
 ' How pale you look, darling ! ' said Ida, the moment she ap- 
 peared, ' and and hasn't mother come ? Is anything wrong ? ' 
 
 ' Yes no,' said Margot impatiently. ' Mother is quite well. I 
 believe ; she will be here directly no doubt.' She shivered as she 
 spoke at the thought of the arrival. 
 
 Miss Henderson cast an amused glance at Ida ; evidently 
 Margot's heroics were beginning to evaporate. Margot saw the 
 glance how little they all guessed what was before them ! and who 
 was to prepare them ? She could not, and she sat there in mute 
 misery, with a nervous glance at the road whenever the sound of 
 fly-wheels approached. 
 
 And, after many false alarms, the dreaded moment came ; one 
 of those four-wheeled struld-bruys which are only to be seen at 
 watering-places, drove up, piled with luggage, and in it, looking 
 rather the worse for the passage, but smiling perseveringly, sat Mrs. 
 Chevening. 
 
 The children ran out to welcome her, and Ida and Miss Hender- 
 son were on the steps. Margot alone remained within, and listened 
 with a shuddering disgust to the kisses and greetings in the passage 
 outside. How could her mother behave as if nothing was changed, 
 as if she had not deliberately bartered away their old peaceful inde- 
 pendent life ! But Allen might have been mistaken. The first 
 moment that her mother's eyes met hers, she knew it was all too 
 true there was a look at once deprecatory and defiant that told 
 her all. 
 
 ' Well, Margot dearest, how are you ? ' said Mrs. Chevening, in 
 a higher key than ordinary. ' Xot repented deserting Trouville in 
 that absurd manner, I hope ? ' 
 
 Margot shrank a little from her embraces. ' Not till to-day,' 
 she said in a low voice. 
 
 ' "Why, you really don't look yourself!' cried Mrs. Chevening. 
 ' "When dear Allen told me you were not well enough to be on the
 
 SCYLLA AND CHAftYBDIS 87 
 
 quay, I thought that a lazy fit perhaps but just come up to my 
 room presently, darling, and we two will have a cosy little chat all 
 to ovirselves ! ' 
 
 A little later, when Mrs. Chevening had changed her travelling 
 costume and regained her ordinary appearance, Margot entered the 
 room. 
 
 ' You have something to tell me, mother ? ' she said. 
 
 Mrs. Chevening looked at the proud pale face, with the beauti- 
 ful mouth arched in a slight curve of irrepressible contempt, and 
 felt slightly uncomfortable. ' Just see if you can find my hand- 
 glass first, dearest one,' she said ; ' those Custom-House wretches do 
 make such havoc in one's dressing-bag. It really is as Joshua said 
 to them ' 
 
 'Is "Joshua" Mr. Chadwick?' asked Margot. ' It is true, I 
 suppose you are going to to marry him ? ' 
 
 ' What a tragic voice ! ' exclaimed Mrs. Chevening ; ' one would 
 think he was an ogre. There are not many men, let me tell you, 
 in his position who would have acted as generously as he has done; 
 he looks upon you all as his own children already ; he is ready to 
 provide you with all those advantages which only wealth can afford, 
 which otherwise I should have to see you deprived of for ever.' 
 
 ' Do you think I should have missed them ? ' cried Margot. 
 
 ' That bears out what I always say of you, dearest ; you are just 
 a trifle too self-absorbed. I was thinking less of you than of the 
 others. You forget that in in our happier days, you had all these 
 advantages ; no expense was spared to give you all the education 
 and accomplishments a girl ought to have on entering the world. 
 Even after my terrible loss I contrived (you will never know with 
 what efforts) to keep you at Brighton for the full course. It doesn't 
 it really does not become you now to stand in the way of the 
 younger ones, especially when, as you might know if you cared to, 
 I can hardly tell which way to turn for enough money to keep them 
 decently fed and dressed.' 
 
 ' Mother,' cried Margot, ' we had always enough, and I would 
 have worked, I would have done anything anything to prevent 
 this ! ' 
 
 ' I really don't know in what way you could have earned more 
 than enough to keep yourself, and perhaps you are not aware that 
 my bills are nothing like all paid.' 
 
 ' Then why are ws here ? Why did we go to an expensive place 
 like Trouville ? ' 
 
 ' I went chiefly for your sake, my dear ; but I see no reason to 
 repent it, nor, I should think, will those wretched tradesmen who 
 have been worrying my life out so long.' 
 
 ' You might,' said Margot in a low voice ' you might have 
 remembered papa it is such a few years since he ' 
 
 ' You think I have forgotten ? How little you know your 
 mother, Margot, if you can say such cruel things ! But his con- 
 stant anxiety was that he was able to save so little for you children,
 
 88 THE PARIAH 
 
 and if he were permitted to advise me now, he would understand 
 and approve yes, though my eldest daughter presumes to judge 
 and condemn ! ' and Mrs. Chevening applied a corner of her 
 handkerchief delicately to the corner of each eye. 
 
 'Tell me just this,' said Margot ; 'do you oh, it's horrible to say 
 do you love this Mr. Chadwick ? Shall you be proud of him ? Oh, 
 you cannot, you cannot ! ' 
 
 'I deny your right to put such questions to me,' said Mrs. 
 Chevening. ' I shall do my duty. At our age it would be absurd to 
 pretend to sentiment. If you choose to say so, I am marrying for 
 convenience but at least it is the convenience of those who are 
 dear to me, and when they turn against me, and speak like 
 strangers, and as if they had nothing but contempt for their poor 
 mother any more ah, my dear, I trust no daughter of yours will 
 ever cut you to the heart as you are cutting me now ! How hard 
 how wickedly hr.vd you are to me, Margot ! ' 
 
 ' I don't mean to be I won't be ! ' she cried, throwing her 
 beautiful strong arms round her mother ; ' only give this up let us 
 be as we were together in our dear old shabby house, with no one 
 to come between us, mother darling ! It isn't too late it will be 
 better in the end. Send Mr. Chadwick away again ! ' 
 
 Mrs. Chevening disengaged herself angrily. ' You are talking 
 like an idiot ! ' she said. ' I shall certainly keep a promise I con- 
 sider sacred ; BO let me hear no more of this.' 
 
 'Then,' said Margot wildly, 'let me go away! I cannot live 
 in the same house with them. I could not breathe there let me go 1 ' 
 
 ' By all means go,' returned her mother, ' if you wish to make 
 us out monsters in the eyes of the world. Only, as I said before, I 
 ain at a loss to see what you propose to do. I don't think your 
 aunt Gwendolen will receive you very warmly ; she will probably 
 call you a foolish girl for running away from a comfortable home 
 and one who only desires to be an indulgent father to you. And I 
 doubt whether you would be more independent as a governess, 
 even if you were fit to undertake a situation. One thing you will 
 understand, that if you choose to do anything so headstrong, you 
 will cut yourself off from all of us, and I should have thought you 
 had some affection for your sisters and Eeggie at least, if you have 
 none for me ! I certainly could not expect or wish Mr. Chadwick 
 to receive you at our new home, after you had shown everybody 
 that you thought yourself too good to associate with him. If you 
 separate from us now, you do so for ever ! ' 
 
 Margot drew a long, sobbing breath; she realised the cruel 
 force of her mother's words. All the tenderer side of her nature 
 was expended upon her younger sisters and brother ; she was pas- 
 sionately devoted to them, and yet, if she were to carry out her 
 impulsive resolve, and refuse to countenance her mother's act of 
 disloyalty to the dead, there was nothing before her but a life of 
 solitude and slavery. She would be shut out from all she loved, 
 condemned to the employment most uncongenial and unfitted to
 
 SCYLLA AND CHARYBDIS 89 
 
 her nature teaching. She saw no other resource ; she knew too 
 well that, untrained as she was, she could not hope to gain a footing 
 on the stage or the concert-platform, and she shrank from the mere 
 idea of serving in a shop. She felt herself, in the full course of her 
 indignation and passionate protest, brought up short and hemmed 
 in by impenetrable realities against which she was powerless, rebel 
 as she might. 
 
 She had not broken down till then, but now, as much with 
 anger as grief, she burst into a passion of tears. ' I can't leave 
 them ! ' she sobbed. ' Mother, you know it would kill me oh, what 
 shall I do ! ' 
 
 Mrs. Chevening saw that the battle was almost won. ' Do ? ' 
 she said. ' Do what any sensible girl would do in your place. Give 
 np raging and sulking at a state of things that you can't possibly 
 prevent. Of course you can make your stepfather and me very 
 uncomfortable if you choose. But please be consistent submit 
 cheerfully, and I really cannot see that you will have any hardships 
 to bear. Or, if you can't do that, carry out your protest and go 1 ' 
 
 ' Would you be glad for me to go ? ' demanded Margot. 
 
 ' You goose, of course not ! I want to be proud of my eldest 
 daughter, and see her in surroundings worthy of her, for I needn't 
 tell you, my dear, that you have your share of beauty, though it is 
 completely thrown away in the sort of life we have had to five till 
 now. But I can't have you spoiling everything by posing as a 
 martyr, and refusing to recognise my husband at the very time you 
 are living under his roof and eating his bread. You must see your- 
 self how impossible a state of things that would be ! ' 
 
 ' It is not Mr. Chadwick so much,' said Margot ; ' it is his son 
 will lie be there ? ' 
 
 4 Of course he will be there ! Do you suppose his father would 
 turn the poor boy out to gratify your convenience ? What harm 
 can poor Allen possibly do you ? He is ready to be a devoted son to 
 me and the fondest of brothers to you all. I was quite touched by 
 his real delight when he was told any other young man in his 
 position would have felt injured, jealous perhaps. And a few 
 sisterly hints, a little patience and tact on your part, Margot, 
 and he would soon grow out of any slight mannerisms he has 
 picked up. I am sure he has an excellent disposition, and will not 
 be difficult to manage. Now pray let me see you looking brave 
 and cheerful, and not acting as a wet blanket any more. Promise 
 me to be sensible.' 
 
 ' I promise that I won't show what I can't help feeling, just at 
 first, any more than I can help. I can't pretend to be glad, or to 
 be fond of Mr. Chadwick all at once. You won't ask too much ? ' 
 
 ' I will be satisfied with that for the present,' said Mrs. 
 Chevening ; ' now kiss me, darling, and go to your room till you 
 are a little more composed.' 
 
 So Margot found herself driven to surrender ignominiously. 
 Alone in her room once more, as she thought of the gallant, hand-
 
 90 THE PARIAH 
 
 some soldier who had been so proud of her, and had liked to have 
 her with him wherever it was possible in those last few months 
 before he went out to meet his death in Afghanistan, her tears rose 
 afresh. Her mother might forget but she, never ! For the new 
 head of the house she had no respect, no affection, but she would 
 keep her compact with her mother as far as outward show went. 
 But there was Allen and at the thought of him she set her teeth 
 and clenched her soft hands in angry revolt. 
 
 There would be no escape from him now never ! He would live 
 in the same house, he would have the right of treating her as his 
 equal, of speaking of her, and to her, as his sister. Even while he 
 was nothing to her but an accidental acquaintance, she had con- 
 ceived an antipathy to him which she felt herself was exaggerated 
 but now that antipathy had turned to hatred yes, she hated 
 him, though till then she had held him beneath the dignity of 
 hatred ; she hal/od him for what she well knew he had no more 
 part in bringing about than herself. 
 
 And bitterest and most unpalatable of all this hatred which 
 possessed her must be confined to her own breast ; only in secret 
 could she dare to give herself the luxury of expression. From its 
 object it must be rigorously hidden. 
 
 There may be some, perhaps, to whom Alien Chadwick will 
 seem scarcely less to be pitied. Mere unrequited affection is too 
 ordinary a woe to excite much compassion ; it is only when humble 
 unselfish devotion on one side is met with deep-seated invincible 
 aversion on the other that the situation has something of a tragic 
 side to it. 
 
 CHAPTEE II. 
 
 I/ELF AND CHINA. 
 The little hearts that know not how to forgive! Maud. 
 
 MARGOT'S passionate resentment had worn itself out for the time 
 being, and she grew tired of being miserable alone. There were 
 the others, too, who were probably still in ignorance of what was 
 impending ; a sense of loyalty to them made her wish to prepare 
 them. As she expected, she found them with Miss Henderson in 
 a small sitting-room at the back, which was generally reserved for 
 lessons on wet days ; even before she opened the door sounds of 
 subdued wailing within told her that she was too late they knew 
 all. It was a doleful little gathering enough : Ida, with red eyes 
 and a look of tragic despair, was holding tig'-itly to the governess's 
 hand, which she caressed from time to time as they sat on the 
 shiny little sofa. Miss Henderson had assumed an air of mar- 
 tyred resignation suitable to the occasion, though she was inwardly 
 deeply perplexed as to the effect these changes were to have upon her
 
 DELF AND CHINA 91 
 
 future. If only she could retain her post, things might not be so 
 bad after all ; in the meantime a really interesting woe like the 
 present was too great a luxury not to be indulged in to the full ; 
 and both Ida and she (although perhaps they did not know it) had 
 derived considerable enjoyment from it already. Their tears broke 
 out afresh on Margot's entrance; Ida and Lettice threw themselves 
 sobbing into her arms ; Reggie went to the window, which com- 
 manded a not too lively prospect of cistern, back-garden, and slate- 
 roofed stables, and stood there whistling in a dismal quaver. Miss 
 Henderson wept in a discreet manner on the sofa, behind a hand- 
 kerchief with a highly ornamental border. 
 
 ' Isn't it too awful ! ' cried Ida indistinctly. ' I call it simply 
 horrid of mother to do this. Behind all our backs too 1 Margot, 
 you were there you must have known why didn't you stop it ? 
 you might at least have prepared us ! ' 
 
 ' How could I ? ' said Margot. ' Do you think if I had known 
 but I was kept in the dark too.' 
 
 ' It will kill me I know it will ! ' moaned Ida ; ' just as I was 
 getting well, too ! How can mother ? "What miserable girls we 
 are ! ' 
 
 ' It's as bad for me as you, every bit,' broke in Eeggie, with a 
 suspicious sniff, ' only I d-don't b-blub about it 1 ' 
 
 ' Margot, shall we all have to be somebody else, too, if mother 
 is ? ' asked Lettice ; ' or what ? Will nothing ever be the same any 
 more ? ' 
 
 ' Of course it won't ! ' said Ida, disconsolately. ' We shall be 
 nobodies, now the first thing will be that poor dear Hennie will 
 be sent away, and we shall have to get on anyhow. I dare say we 
 shall be turned out, too, some day he'll be sure to hate us all ! 
 And there's a step-brother, a young man he'll never rest till he's 
 per persecuted us out of the house ! I know what it will be. 
 Margot and I will have to hem shirts (and I hate sewing) and 
 Eeggie will sell papers, and Lettice mum mum matches, and we 
 shall all die of cold on doorsteps ! ' 
 
 At this affecting prophecy she went into fresh floods of tears, 
 and threw herself inconsolable upon the sofa again, whereupon a 
 general chorus of lamentation arose. Margot, however, did not 
 join in it, feeling the scene, in fact, a parody upon her own recep- 
 tion of her mother's announcement ; she could not see it in a 
 humorous light just then, but it made her angry and a little 
 ashamed. 
 
 ' For goodness' sake, don't let us make idiots of ourselves any 
 more ! ' she exclaimed. ' We shall be treated kindly enough, if that 
 is all, I dare say. It ia quite bad enough without trying to make 
 it worse ! ' 
 
 ' Is his name Chadwick ? ' demanded Ida. ' Wasn't that the 
 name of the people you disliked so at the hotel ? ' 
 
 ' Never mind what I told you once,' said Margot, ' and and I 
 never said that I disliked the father part'cularly.'
 
 92 THE PARIAH 
 
 ' It was the son, then, and you really did hate him ? Hennia 
 and I were not quite sure whether you meant it. What is he like ? 
 Do tell us ! ' 
 
 ' You will see for yourself quite soon enough,' said Margot. ' IIo 
 is a terrible person 1 ' 
 
 ' A terrible person 1 ' cried Lettice. ' Margot 1 and they are 
 here both of them. We saw their hats over the railings. Such 
 horrid-looking hats ! ' 
 
 Steps were heard blundering up the stairs outside. Margot'a 
 face paled slightly. ' They're coming,' she whispered. ' Dry your 
 eyes quick, don't let them see we have been crying.' 
 
 A knock, violent from tiniiditj^, and Allen appeared alone. 
 ' It's only me,' he announced with an embarrassed appeal to Margot. 
 ' Your mother said if I came up you'd introduce me, and and 
 make things comfortable all round.' 
 
 Margot was leaning lightly against the head of the sofa, which 
 she was smoothing as delicately as if it were some favourite animal ; 
 she lifted her eyebrows at his remark with a careless disdain. 
 
 ' Were those mother's exact words, I wonder ? ' she said ; ' but 
 I can't introduce you unless you will come out of that doorway.' 
 (' He looks exactly as if he had come to wind the clock ! ' she was 
 thinking.) ' That is better do you mind shutting the door ? Now 
 we can get it done. This is our new brother. Mr. Allen Chadwick 
 Miss Henderson. This is my sister Ida, and this is Lettice, and 
 that is Reggie." 
 
 Allen made fumbling attempts to shake hands all round. ' I 
 you mustn't think I've any wish to intrude,' he said. ' It's rum at 
 first, I know, but everything must have a beginning, eh ? And as 
 for Margot here, why I and she are quite old friends though I'm 
 sure when we first met I'd no more idea we should come to be such 
 near relations had you ? ' 
 
 ' I ! ' said Margot. ' No, certainly not I ' 
 
 ' No more you hadn't,' he said. ' Why, do you remember this 
 morning how taken aback you were when I told you ? ' 
 
 ' Do I remember ? ' repeated Margot. ' Why yes, I have some 
 faint recollection of it.' 
 
 ' Mine isn't faint,' he said without detecting the irony in her 
 tone. ' You wouldn't believe it at any price the same with me at 
 first. It seemed too good to be true. To think of me feeling 
 lonely all these years for want of someone my own age to be com- 
 pany, and all the time a family growing up ready for me, if only 
 I'd known it ! It's funny when you come to look at it.' 
 
 ' We haven't arrived at seeing the funny side of it yet,' observed 
 Margot calmly. ' It is strange enough, certainly.' 
 
 ' That's what I meant,' he explained ; ' but I'm sure I've no call 
 to quarrel with present arrangements. I'm as pleased as Punch, 
 if you don't consider it a liberty of me to say so.' 
 
 He was more voluble than tisual, in spite of his nervousness, 
 for he could not repress the pride arid satisfaction it gave him to
 
 DELF AND CHINA 93 
 
 be able to claim kinship with them, though he was awed at the 
 same time by a sense of their immense superiority to himself. 
 The younger Chevenings were remarkably good-looking, with the 
 same air of race and distinction that gave such character to their 
 elder sister's beauty. Between them and the undersized, insignifi- 
 cant-looking Allen a gulf of difference was fixed, which he could 
 not fail to perceive. Some natures would have felt this superiority 
 only to hate its possessors with a rankling envy, but there was no 
 trace of this in Allen's sentiments towards the Chevenings. He 
 felt an almost awe-struck admiration for them already. Margot 
 he had worshipped from the first in reverent humility, all uncon- 
 scious, poor fellow, of the intensity of her repugnance to him. And 
 now that he had seen the others Ida, with her delicate face and 
 clinging grace, Eeggie, whose eyes had a look in them of Margot's, 
 and Lettice, whose dainty childish loveliness was a new experience 
 to him, he was willing to extend his allegiance in a scarcely less 
 degree, anxious to convince them of the sincerity of his good will- 
 so far as his somewhat restricted vocabulary would permit. 
 
 Unfortunately his past had left him with a manner, which, 
 when it was not uncouth, was instinctively obsequious in the 
 presence of those in what he had been taught to regard as a higher 
 station than his own. 
 
 Theoretically they were his equals now, but it cost him an 
 effort to remember and act upon the knowledge, and, when he did, 
 the only result was a familiarity which hardly rendered him more 
 engaging. 
 
 On the other side, the first impressions were very far from 
 favourable. Miss Henderson made up her mind privately at the 
 first sight of him that it would not only be necesary, but desirable, 
 to look out for another situation, and gave a side-glance of pity at 
 Ida, who needed it at that moment. Ida's romantic imaginings of 
 a dark, black-browed step-brother, who would be forbidding, but 
 interesting in appearance, and would hate them all relentlessly 
 until he was disarmed by her own sweetness were dispersed by 
 the reality but she was none the happier for that. On the con- 
 trary, the knowledge that the fate in store for them was of so com- 
 monplace, not to say vulgar, a kind was the bitterest drop in her 
 cup. Reggie stood and stared, with his hands thrust deep in his 
 pocket ; how such a fellow as this could be by any possibility about 
 to become their brother was more than he could understand. "Why 
 he looked like a sort of shop-boy, only a little better dressed. 
 
 Lettice was the only one who seemed more reassured than dis- 
 mayed. Allen's announcement to her the day before had not left 
 any deep impression, and in the general disturbance of all her ideas 
 she had not had time to connect the unknown step-brother with 
 the person whose acquaintance she had made already now that 
 she recognised him, her worst fears fled. 
 
 ' I didn't know the new brother was going to turn out to be you
 
 94 THE PARIAH 
 
 after all,' she remarked. ' You weren't in fun yesterday, then ? J 
 don't think you're a terrible person at all. Are you ? ' 
 
 ' Not that I'm aware of,' said Allen. ' First time I ever heard 
 of it, if I am.' 
 
 ' I didn't think so,' pursued Lettice, ' because, when I hit you 
 by accident with Yarrow's ball, you turned so very red and looked 
 frightened didn't you ? ' 
 
 'I I can't say,' said Allen, in some confusion. ' I couldn't see 
 myself, you know.' 
 
 ' Look in the glass now you're just the same. If you're afraid 
 of us,' suggested Lettice, 'hadn't you better be somebody else's 
 brother, instead of ours ? Because, really and truly, we've only 
 just enough room for ourselves at home. It wouldn't be at all 
 comfortable for you.' 
 
 ' Don't you trouble about me,' said Allen ; ' I shall be right 
 enough. And you won't live where you are much longer. There'll 
 be lots of room.' 
 
 ' He is only teasing you, dear,' said Margot, noticing the alarm 
 returning to Lettice's eyes. ' Don't believe a word he says.' 
 
 ' Why,' he protested, ' it's all true. I'm not joking, you will 
 turn out of where you are ! ' 
 
 Lettice's mouth was quivering : ' Then Ida was right ! ' she 
 said. ' You are going to turn us out -when you know we've always 
 lived at homo with mother all our lives ! Oh, it is unkind of you ! 
 Why should you want us to to sell matches and starve ? We 
 never did anything to you, any of us ! ' 
 
 Allen understood at last. ' So that's what you've got in your 
 head, is it ? ' he cried, with a noisy laugh. ' That's a good one and 
 no mistake ! Do you think anybody in their senses would want to 
 turn the like of you out ? Don't you be alarmed about that. I'll 
 answer for it, father'll only be too glad to have you about why, 
 he'll think nothing too good for you ; he won't make any differences, 
 bless you, he's not that sort. What I meant by saying that you 
 wouldn't live where you are long, was only that you'd soon be 
 coming to live along with me and father that's all ! ' 
 
 ' But, if you don't mind,' said Lettiee, ' I think we would rather 
 stay where we are we're so used to our own house, you see. 
 Margot, wouldn't you rather be at home ? ' 
 
 ' We have not been consulted, Lettice,' said her elder sister, 
 with a bitter little smile. ' Everything has been settled without us. 
 We must do as we are told 1 ' 
 
 ' J shan't, then,' interrupted Keggie. 'I shall just go on living 
 where we are now. I'm sure his father won't have nearly such 
 a nice house as ours is.' 
 
 ' You wait till you see it ! ' said Allen. ' It's a splendid big 
 house, with rooms you could put six of these into regular first- 
 class mansion, you know ; glass-houses, with grapes and peaches 
 growing, and conservatories, and a little stream running through
 
 DELF AND CHINA 95 
 
 the grounds where yon can fish if you like I tell you, it's some- 
 thing like a place, ours is ! ' 
 
 Lettice and Reggie were both impressed by this picture. 
 4 Would there be room for Yarrow there ? ' inquired Lettice. 
 
 ' Room for a dozen Yarrows ! ' said Allen. ' My governor's 
 rich, you know. Money's no consequence to him why, siiice I've 
 been with him, I've only to ask him for whatever it is I want and 
 BO it'll be with you, so long as you behave yourselves, of course. 
 You just see if you aren't a precious sight better off with us than 
 what you would if you went on as you are ! ' 
 
 In reality, this speech, though not remarkable for tact, was 
 dictated by the desire to reconcile them all, and Margot particularly, 
 to the future, and was perfectly free from any mere impulse of 
 ostentation. But on Miss Chevening's fastidious and prejudiced 
 ear it jarred as the coarse expression of ignorant purse-pride. That 
 this contemptible boor should dare to patronise them, to think that 
 any riches, any material comfort could be a recompense for the 
 humiliation of being related to him ! She said nothing of what 
 use was it to speak now ! but her foot beat the floor in her nervous 
 irritation, and her beautiful haughty face grew more contemptuous, 
 if possible, than before. 
 
 ' It would be nice to have a big garcfen,' said Lettice, ' and I like 
 peaches too. But I don't think I should like living in somebody 
 else's house always it would be like being on a visit, and never 
 going away. Shall you be there all the time ? ' 
 
 This question was put with an intonation that left little room for 
 a flattering construction. ' I shan't be in your way,' said Allen, 
 feeling almost bound to apologise for being there at all. ' And long 
 before that you'll have got used to the governor and me see if you 
 haven't ! ' 
 
 ' It takes me a long time to get used to people, always,' said 
 Lettice gravely ; ' years, sometimes.' 
 
 ' Well,' he conceded, ' take your own time don't hurry your- 
 self.' 
 
 Lettice's dignity was easily offended. ' As if I was going to ! ' 
 she exclaimed. ' You can't hurry with things like that, and I'm 
 not sure that I ever shall get quite used to you. You see, you'll 
 only be a Pretence Brother, and I've got Eeggie, who's a real one 
 already ! ' 
 
 ' Well,' said Allen, ' put up with me as well as you can, then, 
 and I shan't complain.' 
 
 ' If that will do,' said Lettice, ' I've begun to put up with you 
 already, and of course you must put up with us too.' 
 
 He looked at her and the others with a rough admiration. ' That 
 won't be much of a job,' he said, with the uncouth jocularity which 
 was his only social equipment. ' I can do that on my head.' 
 
 A silence followed this short dialogue. Margot employed her- 
 Belf in studying a hideous glass disc containing an impossible view 
 of Avundel Castle as if she had discovered in it a rare artistic merit-
 
 96 THE PARIAH 
 
 Ida and the governess, ignoring Allen, carried on a conversation in 
 low tones, Reggie returned to his window, and Lettice to the 
 drawing which had been interrupted. Allen was left stranded in 
 the centre of the carpet, equally unable to take his departure and 
 start the conversation afresh ; he had an idea that it would some- 
 how betray ignorance of polite society to address any remark to a 
 governess, and besides, he did not know what to say to her. He 
 would have liked to talk to Margot about Trouville, but her manner 
 was not encouraging just then, not even so encouraging as it used 
 to be he wondered why she had grown less cordial. He was just 
 screwing up his courage to make an observation when there came 
 the sweeping sound of a dress outside, and Mrs. Chevening, smiling 
 and yet with a visible anxiety in her eyes, appeared. 
 
 ' So you have found your way up, dear Allen ? ' she said to him. 
 ' And you all look quite at home together already. Children, I am 
 bringing Mr. Chadwick in to have a peep at you. Joshua, they 
 are here you can come up.' 
 
 Then a heavier footstep was heard ascending, and Chadwick 
 entered. 
 
 ' Darlings,' said their mother, ' here is somebody who is very 
 anxious to be kind and good, to you all, and I know you all mean to 
 be good children, and make him proud of you.' 
 
 They came forward, one by one, to be presented, Chadwick 
 seeming sensible as well he might of a certain awkwardness in 
 the situation 
 
 ' So these are the chicks ? ' he said. ' Come, we shan't be dull 
 at Agra House, whatever else we are ! "Well, my dears, I hope 
 we're going to be good friends. You've heard who I am by this 
 time. Your mamma is kind enough to say she's going to be my 
 wife, and so you're all coming to live comfortably with me, eh? Upon 
 my word, Selina, they're a credit to you they are indeed. I don't 
 know when I've seen a finer looking lot pick em anywhere you 
 like ! Allen, old fellow, what do you think of your new brother 
 and sisters, eh ? Will they do ? ' 
 
 4 Yes thank'ee, father,' returned Allen, at a loss, as usual, for 
 any more adequate words to express his feelings. 
 
 ' Dear boy,' said Mrs. Chevening, ' you must come as often as you 
 like while we are here they will be so delighted to have you with 
 them, and Margot is quite an old friend of yours, you know.' 
 
 * Ah, young lady, there you are, then ? ' said Chadwick. ' You 
 kept so quiet, I didn't notice you. Come, haven't you a word for 
 an old acquaintance ? You're not looking as well as j'ou did at 
 Trouville. I never made out exactly why you ran away and left 
 us all there. A pretty fright I had whn I found you and your 
 mother both gone, and left not so much s a card to say good-bye. 
 Anxious about your sister, wore you? That's right enough not 
 that there's much of the invalid about her now. Well, you didn't 
 xpect to see us turning up like this, I dare say ? ' 
 
 Margot forced herself to puc her fingers in his hand and submit
 
 DELF AND CHINA 97 
 
 60 his boisterous rallying. She wondered whether her mother 
 winced under it, as she did, but no Mrs. Chevening was smiling 
 complacently, having apparently made up her mind to see no 
 shortcomings in her future husband. 
 
 Chadwick, more to keep himself in countenance than with any 
 more definite object, had been wandering round the table, where he 
 came upon a sheet of paper covered with pencil drawings of a 
 primitive order of art. 
 
 ' What have we got here ? ' he said. ' Who's the artist ? ' 
 
 ' Lettice, I suspect,' said her mother. 
 
 ' Is it you, missie ? Come here and tell us what it's all about.' 
 
 ' I I don't like to quite,' said Lettice shyly, who had a habit of 
 solacing herself in calamity by inventing pictures appropriate to 
 the particular situation. 
 
 ' Don't be silly, darling,' said Mrs. Chevening. ' Do what you 
 are asked to do at once ! ' 
 
 ' It's only a story,' explained Lettice at last. ' Those are the 
 pictures for it only you're holding them upside down.' 
 
 ' Oh, this way up, with care, eh ? Well, who's this in a straw 
 hat jumping with an umbrella m her hand Mrs. Jim Crow ? ' 
 
 'It isn't a straw hat,' said Lettice, forgetting everything else in 
 the reflection on her powers of portrayal, ' it's a halo she's a kind 
 of saint, you know, like those in the Old Masters, and it isn't an 
 umbrella in her hand exactly, but something of the same kind. 
 She's protecting a poor little girl (that's the little girl in the corner) 
 because her mamma married again, and so she was turned out of 
 the house.' 
 
 ' Lettice, you mustn't tease Mr. Chadwick ! ' interrupted her 
 mother hastily. ' Children have such absurd fancies, Joshua, but 
 they don't mean anything by them.' 
 
 ' Let's have this out,' said Chadwick, roughly but not unkindly. 
 ' So you've been thinking that little girls whose mammas marry 
 again always get turned out as a regular thing, eh ? You won't 
 want that saint yet awhile tell her to wait till you're a naughty 
 little girl and deserve turning out. Then she can bring on her 
 umbrella ! ' 
 
 'I'm sure to be naughty some daj,' said Lettiee, whom ex- 
 perience had made fatalistic in this respect ; ' a little naughty, you 
 know.' 
 
 'Well, you'll have to be very naughty indeed before you're 
 turned out, and then I shall think twice about it. I've been turned 
 out myself once, and I know what it's like ! ' 
 
 He patted her head as he spoke, and Lettice, though she winced 
 a little under his heavy hand, felt that she need not think seriously 
 about dying on a doorstep just yet. 
 
 'Well,' said Chadwick, who could not be accused of excess of 
 sentiment, ' they'll be doing that beefsteak to a cinder, Allen, my 
 boy, if we are not back at the hotel soon ! Good-bye, my darl 
 b'm my dears ! See you again soon ! '
 
 98 THE PARIAH 
 
 "When the girls were alone again, there was a cautious silence, 
 broken by Margot : 
 
 ' Did I exaggerate much ? ' she demanded. ' Isn't our future 
 brother a fascinating person ? How proud we shall be to be seen 
 with him ! ' 
 
 ' Margot,' asked Lettice, ' would you call him a gentleman ? ' 
 
 1 If I called him a Greek god, dear,' said Margot, ' that wouldn't 
 make him one. "Why ? ' 
 
 ' I was only thinking,' said Lettice, whose thoughts were apt to 
 take an involved form, 'there are some gentlemen who are 
 gentlemen who aren't gentlemen and there are other gentlemen 
 who aren't gentlemen who are gentlemen which should you say 
 he was, Margot ? ' 
 
 ' I'm not clever enough to tell you, darling and now you and 
 Eeggie must go and get ready for dinner off with you, quick ! ' 
 
 When they were gone, Ida said, with a tragic little groan, ' It 
 really is too awful, Margot ! Hennie, don't you pity us all ? ' 
 
 ' I do indeed, dearest only, you know, I can't very well say 
 sol ' 
 
 ' No, you poor darling ! Oh, if only they will leave us you you 
 will try not to be sent away, Hennie, won't you you won't desert 
 us?' 
 
 Miss Henderson had been reconsidering her idea of seeking 
 another engagement. These Chadwicks were clearly rich she 
 might even gain an increase in salary by remaining ; she really waa 
 attached to Ida in her way, and her accomplishments were not so 
 varied as to make it easy for her, in these days of competition, to 
 find immediate employment without difficulty. She had decided, 
 therefore, to use her best efforts to remain. Even if Mrs. Chevening, 
 as was not unlikely, should be not unwilling to get rid of her, there 
 were those arrears of salary which she might find it inconvenient 
 to pay oft all at once and the governess had a shrewd suspicion 
 that her employer would not disclose to her future husband more 
 of her embarrassments than was absolutely necessary. 
 
 So she replied with much fervour that she would stand by her 
 beloved Ida till cruel necessity forced her away ; she hoped, she 
 prayed, that when all her past services were remembered, no one 
 would have the heart to send her adrift on the world not even such 
 people as the Chadwicks seemed to be. 
 
 ' Do you think mother really will marry that man ? ' Ida asked 
 Margot ; ' she might change her mind even at the last moment. 
 Can't we do anything to show her how we hate it ? He might give 
 it up if he knew ! ' 
 
 ' Do you think I haven't done all I could ? ' cried Margot. ' She 
 says she is doing it for our sakes. For our sakes ! ' she repeated, 
 with a sense of the irony of the words. ' But I am quite sure ot 
 ihis : she means to do it, and nothing in the world we can do or 
 say will prevent her. We are quite helpless, you see. If we show 
 them what we feel about it, wo shall only look ridiculous. Why,'
 
 DELF AND CHINA 99 
 
 she continued with deep indignation, ' mother even said just now 
 that if I chose to oppose her openly, she would send me away 
 away from you all ... She said she would have no other course.' 
 
 ' Oh, Margot ! ' exclaimed Ida. 
 
 'You see what the danger is we must put a good face on it. 
 We needn't be hypocrites, of course, but if we're all to keep to- 
 gether, we must be prudent. We need only be civil to to him, 
 and if mother forces his horrid son upon us, well, we must bear it 
 as well as we can. Fortunately,' added Margot, ' I think I taught 
 him at Trouville not to expect too much.' 
 
 ' How hateful he was, with his boasts about his father's money 
 and house and all the rest of it ! ' exclaimed Ida. 
 
 ' That is the sort of conversation we shall have to get used to,' 
 said Margot ; ' we shall be constantly reminded how much better 
 off we are, and how thankful we ought to be. As if our dear old 
 shabby house at Chiswick, where we knew only people we cared 
 about, and did just as we pleased, was not all the home we ever 
 wanted ! ' 
 
 ' And yet we always used to be grumbling at it, didn't we ? ' 
 said Ida, rendered ungrammatical by remorse. ' I know I was. 
 Like the silly fir-tree in Hans Andersen, that never knew when it 
 was well off. But must we really try to like that awful boy, 
 Margot ? ' 
 
 ' Like him no ! ' said Miss Chevening. ' Who can like a thing 
 like that ? I detest him, and I always shall. But what is the use 
 of showing it ? You have to be very rude before you make any 
 impression on that sort of person I gave up the attempt long ago. 
 We will take no more notice of him than we can possibly help, but 
 I am afraid we shall have to take some.' 
 
 ' After all,' said Miss Henderson, ' there are plenty of ways of 
 keeping people at a distance without giving them any cause to 
 complain.' 
 
 ' That's how we will treat him ! ' cried Ida gleefully. ' You shall 
 teach me, Hennie.' 
 
 And while these tactics were being discussed, the unconscious 
 enemy was walking over the green in dazed delight at his own 
 good fortune In being admitted into such a family, and thinking 
 of the pleasure he would feel in introducing Margot to the glories 
 of Agra House. 
 
 After all, it is not amiss to be dull of perception sometimes. 
 
 H a
 
 100 THE PARIAH 
 
 CHAPTER HI. 
 TO DEAF EARS. 
 
 NOT much need be said of the time which was spent by the 
 Chevenings and the two Chadwicks at Littlehampton. For 
 Margot, they were days of acute humiliation ; she felt as if they 
 were all being led captives at the chariot wheels of some Barbarian 
 Conqueror. She could no longer, as 'at Trouville, look forward to 
 approaching release ; she was no longer free even to give full 
 utterance to her thoughts ; at things which had once moved her 
 scorn she had now to blush as one directly concerned, and all her 
 pride rebelled against the necessity which laid such a yoke as this 
 upon her. 
 
 It was exaggerated feeling on her part, a prejudice she had 
 wilfully fomented in her own mind even Margot would have 
 admitted that there was nothing in itself degrading or derogatory 
 in an alliance with a wealthy ex-indigo-planter. It is true that 
 Chadwick's early training, and the exceptionally unfriended life 
 thanks to his own choice and conduct he had led in Bengal, had 
 not tended to invest him with even the average amount of social 
 polish. But, though coarse in grain and with a nature warped by 
 a series of misfortunes, he was not, after all, aggressively vulgar in 
 appearance ; he was passable enough, and, so far, had shown every 
 sign of being kindly disposed to those who were about to be 
 dependent upon him. Still, Margot could not pardon her mother 
 in her heart for descending to such a union as this. She would 
 have found it difficult to reconcile herself to any second marriage 
 her mother might make ; but, in this case, her disapproval was 
 aggravated by the intense, the unreasonably intense, dislike she 
 had conceived for the innocent Allen. She was compelled, as far 
 as possible, to abstain from expressing it openly, but in secret made 
 no attempt to overcome it. On the contrary, she deliberately 
 indulged it, storing up every jarring speech, every vulgar trick of 
 voice and manner, as food to keep her resentment alive. She did 
 not avoid his society at most times, and even humoured his halting 
 efforts to entertain her, as if with a perverse determination to spare 
 herself nothing. 
 
 Allen was again in the seventh heaven ; she treated him once 
 more as in those happy days at Trouville, listened while he talked 
 to her, and made replies in which he at least failed to detect any 
 covert irony. Then her sisters were with her now, and with them 
 she would be sweet and natural, and gay sometimes, when she 
 forgot, and he imagined, mistakenly enough, that he had some 
 share in this intimacy, and was gladder at heart. All ! if she 
 would be really a sister to him, he told himself that he would ask 
 no more, for was not that more than he had any claim to expect ?
 
 TO DEAF EARS 101 
 
 though even then he knew very well that a feeling was growing up 
 within him, which he was afraid to define to himself, and which he 
 already had a foreboding would not end in happiness. Yet he did 
 not strangle this hopeless passion of his when he might have done, 
 but glozed it over with another name, as many a wiser and better 
 educated person has done before him. 
 
 He did all in his power to propitiate the younger members of 
 the family, but, except in the case of Reggie, his efforts were not 
 as yet very successful, and Eeggie's adherence was due to a dis- 
 covery that this queer new brother had plenty of pocket-money, 
 and could be induced to spend it on sweetstuff for his benefit by a 
 few judicious hints. He had it all to himself, too, for Lettice 
 declined to accept any, even from her brother. Her rejection of 
 all Allen's advances gave him a sore heart now and then, for ho 
 felt strongly drawn to Lettice, with her quaint dignity and frank, 
 fearless ways ; he would willingly have been friends with her, if 
 she had consented. But Lettice's affections were not to be bought, 
 and the example set her by her elders served to counteract any 
 friendliness she might otherwise have extended to him. 
 
 For Ida Allen cared less ; she took less pains to control her 
 tongue ; he did arrive sometimes at suspecting her of deliberately 
 intending to be disagreeable. She was affected, too, and querulous, 
 and, pretty as she was, he felt less desire to conciliate her than any 
 of the others ; in fact, something very like the foundation of a 
 grudge against her was laid in him during those last few days at 
 Littlehampton. 
 
 The time was spent mostly in expeditions to various local places 
 of interest ; to Arundel, and Chichester, and Worthing, and others ; 
 expeditions of which Chadwick, as at Trouville, assumed the entire 
 command. He had not seen them since he was a boy, he declared, 
 and he insisted that they should all see them together, though 
 Margot, at least, chafed at going sightseeing in this bourgeois 
 fashion. It had seemed wearisome enough in Normandy, but now 
 ghe was directly involved and could no longer maintain her atti- 
 tude of unconcerned superiority. 
 
 To a high-spirited, intensely proud girl as she was, exclusive 
 and fastidious by nature, and regarding the commonplace with 
 youthful intolerance, her position was genuinely trying, though not 
 so hard, it must be owned, as she chose to consider it. She was 
 miserable ; she had often felt before that she was deprived of 
 opportunities which other girls enjoyed, which she, too, had once 
 confidently looked forward to ; but, if existence in the unfashionable 
 old house by the river, with few friends and little gaiety, had been 
 dull, it was never ignoble there was a dignity in it, in spite of 
 their limited means and money troubles (of which she had pre- 
 ferred to remain in contented ignorance), which had comforted 
 her at her lowest. Now that was all over ; there could be no 
 poetry henceforth for her in this new atmosphere of vulgar well- 
 being. Condemned to be constantly with those who were utterly
 
 102 THE PARIAH 
 
 out of sympathy with her, she felt for ever shut out from con- 
 genial society for she could not imagine that any ' nice ' people 
 would care to visit at her step-father's. Had he not enlarged 
 sometimes on the unfriendliness of his county neighbours ? She 
 did not wonder at it, and of course they would be under the ban 
 too. 
 
 Mrs. Chevening's equanimity did not seem to be disturbed by 
 any doubts as to the wisdom of the step she was taking. She had 
 taken it rather sooner than she had intended, for the shock of her 
 supposed departure from Trouville had brought Chadwick's feelings 
 to a climax ; still she had long seen that, if she was to extricate 
 herself from her growing difficulties, she must either marry her 
 daughter well, or marry again herself. She had made careful 
 inquiries into Chadwick's position, and at one time she had allowed 
 herself to speculate on the possibility of marrying M argot to his 
 only son. But when Allen appeared on the scene, even Mrs. 
 Chevening saw that this scheme must be abandoned. Margot 
 proved impracticable, and her mother was clever enough to see 
 that she was powerless here. His father, meanwhile, was showing 
 unmistakable signs of desiring something more than friendship; 
 he did not pretend to be in love, but he spoke more and more often 
 of his big empty house, and the need he felt of a wife who would 
 help him to gain a footing in the county. He was not alarmed 
 by the fact of so many step-children there was enough for all. 
 Mrs. Chevening was tired of her fallen fortunes, of the constant 
 and increasing battle between expenses and income ; she wanted 
 to see her brilliant Margot enjoying her rightful opportunities of 
 marrying well ; there were her other daughters to be considered, 
 her son to be educated. As the wife of a wealthy ex-indigo-planter, 
 she felt very certain of ensuring all these advantages ; he was not 
 over-refined, but she could school him where it was necessary, 
 and keep him as much in the background as possible ; the only 
 social bar lay m what his father had been, and that could be got 
 over now. 
 
 And so Mrs. Chevening soon persuaded herself that it was the 
 only thing to do, and that, for her children's sake, she ought to 
 accept the offer, which was made in a peremptory ' take it or leave 
 it ' style that demanded an instant decision. 
 
 Accordingly, with some graceful phrases about giving her 
 orphaned children a father, and supplying herself the place of a 
 mother to ' poor Allen,' she had consented, with a private reflection 
 that, should it turn out that she had been misinformed in any 
 essential respects, she could always withdraw in tune. 
 
 She had dreaded having to break the news to her family 
 above all to Margot, with whom she knew she must employ all 
 her firmness before she could compel her to any sort of acqui- 
 escence. However, that was over, and really, as far as she could 
 tell, the girls seemed wonderfully reconciled to it already, and by 
 careful management, she kept their dislike to Allen from appearing
 
 TO DEAF EAHS 103 
 
 too plainly. ' They really seemed quite attached to dear Allen,' 
 she would tell his father. ' He was a constant companion in all 
 their walks. She was so pleased to see the shyness melting away, 
 but of course Margot had given him a good character, and they 
 felt as if they had known him ever so long ; he seemed so happy to 
 be with them, too it was quite ideal altogether ! ' 
 
 Chadwick saw nothing, believed, and was well satisfied. He 
 felt that he had done an uncommonly good stroke of business. 
 He was going to marry a widow, who was still handsome and 
 beyond question a lady. With her and her beautiful daughters to 
 form the attraction at Agra House, he need not complain of 
 isolation any longer, the county society would soon rally round 
 him. And for Allen, too, the companionship of lively pretty girls 
 would be a capital thing ; it would teach him certain things which 
 his father was beginning dimly to see he needed to be taught. 
 Yes, his first marriage had been a mistake, he saw that now, and 
 he had had to pay for it with over twenty years' exile and hard- 
 ship his second marriage was going to be a success. 
 
 Such, so far, were the various attitudes of the persons in- 
 terested. It should be mentioned here that one humble member 
 of the Chevening family extended to Allen a friendship which had 
 nothing in it of reserve or self-interest, and that was the dog 
 Yarrow. For some inscrutable reason, the collie received him at 
 once into unhesitating favour, beaming on him with liquid golden- 
 tawny eyes, presenting him handsomely with his honest paw and 
 pushing his panting head under Allen's arm at every possible 
 opportunity. For this he was lectured in private by Lettice, who 
 considered it almost in the light of a desertion to the enemy ; and 
 even Margot, to whom he nominally belonged, was not above 
 feeling a secret chagrin although she did not deign openly to 
 notice this exhibition of bad taste on Yarrow's part. 
 
 Allen did not know much about dogs, and had never owned one 
 in his life, but he was grateful to the collie for his preference it 
 seemed to him a good omen that M argot's dog should be fond of him. 
 
 "When this constant companionship with the Chevening girls 
 came to an end, as it did in a very few daj's on their departure for 
 London, he felt almost as bereaved as on that miserable afternoon 
 at Trouville when he learned that Margot had gone. But things 
 were not nearly so bad now ; he would see them still occasionally 
 at Chiswick during the winter, and early in the year they were all 
 coming to live at Agra House (so christened by his grandfather, in 
 defiant commemoration of the business which had enriched him) 
 that was something to be patient for. The weeks that followed 
 were rather drill for him ; his father was absent in town for the 
 greater part of the time, and Allen lived at his new home with no 
 other companion than the grim relative who had brought him up, 
 and whom Chadwick had established there as temporai-y care- 
 taker. Allen naturally had no experience of shooting or hunting.; 
 the man who looked after the stables gave him a few riding lessons
 
 104 THE PARIAH 
 
 now and then, but Allen showed no particular aptitude for horse- 
 manship, and the groom was rather ashamed of going out with 
 him. ' He do sit loose, that young chap as loose as anyone I 
 ever see on top of a horse,' he would remark in the village. ' Now 
 the gov'nor, any one 'ud tell lie's been in the saddle a bit, not that 
 I call him a rider but that young Allen, blest if I think he knosvs 
 a horse 'as a mouth at all ! ' 
 
 He was not more successful at shooting ; he knew none of the 
 residents, and the Agra House grounds had no cover to speak of, 
 so the sport was confined to missing an occasional rabbit. And 
 his aunt, though she treated him with an increase of respect, as 
 became his altered fortunes, was not cheerful society, especially when 
 she approached the subject of her brother-in-law's second marriage. 
 
 ' What he wants to marry for at his age, J don't know 1 ' she 
 would often remark, as they sat in the big dining-room, with the 
 ' handsome ' furniture, dull-toned paper, and immense gaselier, 
 which the late Mr. Chadwick had insisted upon. ' I'd have looked 
 after everything for him, if that was all. But no he's not content 
 with that, he must be marrying the first woman who chooses to set 
 her cap at him a widow, they tell me. Any family, has she got ? ' 
 she inquired once. 
 
 ' Four,' Allen answered, with a secret thrill ; c one grown-up a 
 young lady, you know.' 
 
 'Ah! a worldly widow with a family,' his aunt commented. 
 ' Well, I don't know what your poor mother would have said to it, 
 I'm sure, if she could see such doings. But there, it's no use my 
 saying anything though I'm sorry for you, that I am ! ' 
 
 ' You needn't be, aunt,' was Allen's ordinary reply to this. ' I'm 
 glad.' 
 
 ' Glad, are you ? Then, Allen Chadwick, you're a bigger fool than 
 I took you for but there, you'll find your mistake out some day ! ' 
 
 And Miss Wrigley would go on with her knitting with a highly 
 expressive snort. In her narrow way she had done her duty by her 
 nephew, and though he had not been as steady as she wished him 
 to be, and was not as bright and smart as some of her neighbours' 
 lads, she had a certain grim affection for him, which showed itself 
 in a touch of sharpness sometimes at his apparent inability to take 
 his own part and look after his interests. 
 
 ' He's like his mother in that,' she would think. ' She'd have let 
 anyone cut the head off her shoulders if they asked her ! ' 
 
 While Allen was longing for the weeks to pass, and the day to 
 come which would make him a member of Margot's family, she 
 was grudging every hour that brought her nearer to the time. 
 More than any of the others, she clung to the picturesque old- 
 fashioned house by the river where they had spent the last few 
 years. It was dingy and dark from the creepers that overgrew the 
 front, and the scraggy truncated elms that almost brushed the 
 great bow-window with their branches. The river, now leaden and 
 mist-shrouded, glided by on the other side of the narrow road. At
 
 TO DEAF EAES 105 
 
 night she heard the water lap and wash against the bank under her 
 window, and wondered how she could ever have thought the sound 
 a dismal one. Melancholy it might be, but, now that she had little 
 cause to be joyous, the river seemed a soothing and unobtrusive 
 sharer in her sorrow she liked to fancy that it was a little sorry to 
 lose them all. 
 
 And the house, so cool and fresh in summer, so snug and com- 
 fortable in winter, with such refinement and harmony in its faded 
 tones and old furniture ; the house, with its memories of happy, 
 dreaming hours spent on summer afternoons in the balcony over 
 the porch, of merry family romps, when her dignity as growing 
 school-girl or ' finished ' young lady was thrown to the winds ; the 
 very walls, associated with so many simple little festivals how 
 dear they had all become ! She had never known till then how 
 much it would cost her to leave all this, and they were to leave 
 it for what ? For a country house, built the day before yester- 
 day by a retired tradesmen for the elder Chadwick was nothing 
 more ; a poor exchange enough, even could they have been per- 
 mitted to occupy it alone ; but when she thought whose house it 
 would be, and the position they would fill in it, her heart swelled 
 with indignation against her mother. 
 
 When Lady Yaverland heard of the step her younger sister was 
 contemplating, she did what she had not found time to do for some 
 years she drove down to Chiswick in state from Portman Square, 
 and it being impossible to drive up to the house, from the fact that 
 the road along the bank was a mere footpath at that particular spot, 
 her carriage was to be seen waiting in a back road, the nearest point 
 of approach, with the coachman wearing an expression whicli 
 seemed to disown all personal responsibility for being found in such 
 a neighbourhood, while a fur-caped footman stood majestically by 
 the railings in front of the shabby old ivy-grown house. Lady 
 Yaverland had brought her youngest daughter, Valeria, with her, 
 and, at a suggestion from her mother, Mai-got took her cousin off to 
 her own room. The two girls had never been intimate ; the 
 Honourable Miss Valeria Brading, who, if patrician, was undeniably 
 plain in appearance, was inclined to resent her cousin's beauty, and 
 patronised her when they met in a highly provoking manner. ' Do 
 tell me all about it,' she began, as she sank down in Margot's easy- 
 chair. ' I am so interested. When is Aunt Selina going to marry ? 
 Aren't you awfully delighted ? ' 
 
 ' Mother is going to marry early next year, Valeria,' said Mar- 
 got. ' And I'm not awfully delighted. I think it's dreadful ! ' 
 
 ' You very curious person ! ' said Miss Brading languidly. ' Why, 
 I should have thought it was the best thing that could happen for 
 all of you. Won't you be fearfully well off now. I thought he 
 was so rich and all that ? ' 
 
 ' What are his riches to us ? ' said Margot. ' Do you think one 
 can't be happy without that ? ' 
 
 ' I should certainly have thought,' said Miss Valeria, with aglance
 
 10G THE PARIAH 
 
 round the room, in the appointments of which taste was more con- 
 spicuous than luxury, ' that you would like to see more of the world 
 than you can possibly do in a place like this. I dare say you will 
 live in town for the season now, and go out, and all that sort of 
 thing. You'll enjoy it, because it will all be fresh to you. It isn't 
 as if you had grown up in it as I have ! ' 
 
 ' I don't know where we shall live in the country, most likely, 
 all the year,' said Margot, ' but I know I shall not enjoy anything, 
 wherever we are. I should hate myself if I thought I could ! ' 
 
 ' That's so silly, dear,' remarked her cousin, in a superior tone, 
 which was undeniably infuriating. ' We think it quite a nice arrange- 
 ment in every way.' 
 
 ' Very likely,' said Miss Chevening warmly. ' It must be 
 pleasanter to have rich relations than poor ones, however little you 
 see of them. Never mind, Valeria, we will agree that we ought to 
 consider ourselves very fortunate only we are so stupid that wo 
 don't. And now let's talk of something else.' 
 
 ' Indeed, I've no wish to pursue the subject, only I must say that, 
 if you will bury yourselves away in a place like this, it is rather too 
 much to complain of people not coming to see you it is really." 
 
 ' Is it, Valeria ? ' said Margot. ' If I did complain, I won't do it 
 again. Come into the schoolroom and see Ida and Lettice, they'll 
 be so glad.' 
 
 Lady Yaverland took her leave in a most cordial manner. 
 ' Good-bye, Selina, dearest,' she said, as she rose ; ' we shall hope to 
 see more of you in the future. I really am more enchanted than I 
 can say. Now do bring Mr. Chadwick to see me some day let me 
 see, shall it be next Wednesday.? No, I've got something on 
 Wednesday, I know. Thursday, then ? or stop, there are people 
 coming to lunch on Thursday, we shan't get a moment together. 
 Valeria, are we free on Friday, darling ? Oh, that tiresome afternoon 
 concert at the Brutons' ! Well, I must write and fix a day, and, in 
 any case, you will be sure to let me know when and where the cere- 
 mony is to take place I shall make a point of being there. 
 Roberts, tell Jennings the carriage, please." 
 
 So Lady Yaverland and her daughter walked back to their smart 
 carriage, which was presently rolling away along the bankside, past 
 the baring trees and decaying houses. Lady Yaverland was really 
 pleased. She had married a wealthy manufacturer, who, for sorng 
 services he had rendered his party, had been raised to the peerage 
 as Baron Yaverland some years ago. After her husband had 
 received this distinction, she had taken a position in society which 
 did not allow her to see much of her sister, especially when Mrs. 
 Chevening had become a widow, and was forced by her own im- 
 prudent speculations to withdraw beyond the radius recognised by 
 Society and its coachmen. 
 
 She had felt some twinges of conscience, nevertheless, and was 
 always on the point of seeing whether something could not be done 
 for ' poor dear Selina, 1 consoling herself for doing nothing by the
 
 TO DEAF EARS 107 
 
 reflection that living must be very cheap at Chiswick, and if Selina 
 was really in any difficulties she would write and ask for assistance. 
 Now that Selina was actually going to make a really sensible 
 marriage, Lady Yaverland's heart naturally warmed to her ; she 
 could be cordial now with impunity and hence her visit. 
 
 ' Dear Selina ! ' she said to her daughter, as they drove away, 
 ' she seems so contented and satisfied, spoke so nicely of him, I 
 was quite pleased to hear her. She'll have everything she can 
 want now, and those poor girls will be provided fcr after all. I 
 must send her something really nice for a wedding present. You 
 must help me to choose. Margot very delighted about it all, I 
 suppose ? ' 
 
 ' I shouldn't say she was enthusiastic exactly,' drawled Miss 
 Valeria. ' I gathered that she rather disapproved of it.' 
 
 ' Foolish girl ! ' said her mother. ' However, she will have to 
 resign herself to the inevitable.' 
 
 Mrs. Chevening stood at the window smiling and kissing her 
 hand while her sister in her heavy furs was stepping daintily along 
 the narrow path. ' Good-bye, good-bye, dearest ones, come again 
 soon I ' she was saying, rather to govern her expression than with 
 any hope of being audible. ' What a pity it is for that poor girl to 
 be so plain ! And Gwendolen looks quite twenty years older than 
 when I saw her last. However, I am very glad she came. You see 
 now, Margot, that my own sister doesn't consider I have lost caste, 
 whatever my daughter chooses to think ! ' 
 
 'When you bring Mr. Chadwick to see Aunt Gwendolen, 
 mother,' said Margot, ' shall you take Allen too ? ' 
 
 'I see no necessity for it,' replied her mother; 'he is hardly fit 
 to go into society at present, poor fellow ! ' 
 
 4 No,' said Margot, ' but you consider him quite fit for our 
 society, don't you mother ? ' 
 
 1 1 thought,' said her mother, ' that I was not to have the pain of 
 hearing such language as this from you again, Margot ! ' 
 
 ' Mother ! ' said the girl passionately, ' I can't always keep 
 silence you must let me speak out sometimes, when we are alone. 
 I do try to treat Mr. Chadwick as you would wish. I I am even 
 getting not to mind him. But Allen mother, you can't expect mo 
 to feel that he is the sort of person I can bear to think of as a con- 
 stant companion as a brother ! I know you believe you are doing 
 the best for us all perhaps you are, for the others but, at least 
 you might understand that I can't help being a little bitter now 
 and then just on my own account ! ' 
 
 She stood there, tall and slender, with a look of unconquerable 
 pride on her fair face, and yet her voice had something winning 
 and appealing in it which caused her mother a momentary pang of 
 self-reproach. Mrs. Chevening thought of her future step-son and 
 placed him mentally by the side of this girl the effect was grotesque 
 enough to arouse a certain sympathy with her daughter's protest. 
 Well, well, my dear,' she said, with a little sigh, ' I don't ask
 
 108 TUB PARIAH 
 
 you to feel what perhaps it is not natural that you should feel. I 
 am quite sure that you will see one day that I am right in the 
 course I am taking, and if Allen is the chief objection, Margot,' she 
 added, 'be patient, dearest, a little while. Young men are not 
 generally great stay-at-homes ! ' 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE DANGERS OF NOT KNOWING WHEN TO STOP. 
 
 IT was some time before Lady Yaverland found leisure to fix a day 
 for making the acquaintance of her sister's husband-elect, but she 
 did so at last, and even sent an invitation to dinner. ' It had better 
 be dinner, George,' she had said to her husband. ' I don't want 
 poor Selina to feel herself abandoned, and we need sot see anything 
 of them afterwards, you know. And if we don't have them now, 
 we shall have to ask them down to Arreton later ! ' 
 
 'It was a very quiet little dinner "only just ourselves," ' as 
 Lady Yaverland had explained ; even the daughters of the houso 
 were not present, and their absence was not accounted for. Perhaps 
 the dinner did not promise to establish any very cordial relations 
 for the future between the principal persons concerned. Chadwick 
 had seen enough of the world not to feel intimidated by the pre- 
 sence of a peer, but he took rather more pains to make this evident 
 than he need have done. In fact, he talked down and contradicted 
 his host so persistently that Lord Yaverland, though the mildest 
 and least exacting of noblemen, became a little restive at last, and 
 his wife deemed it necessary to rebuke the offender. ' Perhaps you 
 don't know, Mr. Chadwick, and if so I may tell you ' she said, 
 with an ambiguous blandness, ' that the indigo question, and in fact, 
 Indian affairs generally, have been a special study of Lord Yaver- 
 land' s for some years ! ' 
 
 ' Can't help that, my lady,' said Chadwick. ' Of course, if his 
 lordship tells me he's been there, that's another thing ! ' 
 
 ' It has always been a dream of mine,' said the host, ' to visit a 
 country in which I take considerable interest but, as a matter of 
 fact ' 
 
 ' You haven't got beyond dreaming at present ? ' interrupted 
 Chadwick, with his loud laugh. ' That's where it is, you see ! Not 
 that you'd know much more about it if you went they'd show you 
 round, and tell you just as much as they wanted you to know, and, 
 after six weeks of that sort of thing, you'd come back and write an 
 article in a crack magazine, or a book very likely, and think you 
 had settled the whole question. Now I've been out there, li ved there 
 over twenty years, and I know what I'm talking about, and I tell 
 you, you may take it from me '
 
 DANGERS OF NOT KNOWING WHEN TO STOP 109 
 
 1 Forgive me, said Lord Yaverland stiffly, ' there are some thinga 
 I really cannot consent to take from anybody. Selina, was Trou- 
 ville at all crowded this season ? ' 
 
 Mrs. Chevening saw of course that her future husband was not 
 producing the best of impressions, but she accepted it philosophi- 
 cally enough. She did not care very much whether her sister and 
 she were to be intimate in future or not ; their paths had always 
 lain too much apart to make that a very likely contingency ; and 
 now, though she was willing that Chadwick should understand that 
 if she was poor she was no adventuress, she did not expect this 
 meeting to lead to anything. Even Chadwick's breaches of the 
 ordinary amenities of life did not cause her any acute distress he 
 was ' like that,' and it was of no use minding, but she was glad that 
 Margot, who had been included in the invitation, had declined to 
 accompany her she would not have liked to see the expression she 
 knew her daughter's face would have worn. 
 
 When the two sisters were alone together in the great drawing- 
 room, Lady Yaverland began with a little hesitation : ' I hope, 
 Selina,' she said, ' I hope you are quite quite sure that this is a 
 a wise thing you are going to do ! ' 
 
 ' Really, Gwendolen,' retorted Mrs. Chevening, with a rather 
 accelerated beat of her fan, ' I think I may be considered old enough 
 to manage my own affairs. I have been left to manage them for 
 myself all these years ! ' 
 
 ' And a dreadful muddle you have made of them ! ' carne into 
 Lady Yaverland's mind, but all she said was, ' You mustn't be 
 angry with me, Selina, I can't help asking, because because 
 well, it is so very unlike anything I should have expected you 
 to do 1 ' 
 
 'It is all very well, Gwendolen,' said Mrs. Chevening. 'I don'fc 
 pretend that I should have done quite this if I hadn't been so 
 horribly poor. But what was I to do ? You know you wouldn't 
 have helped me ! ' 
 
 ' It is unkind of you to say that,' interposed Lady Yaverland, 
 who felt this thrust to come unpleasantly near home. ' You never 
 asked me though ' (this was due to a recollection chat her purse 
 might still be not out of danger) ' I assure you I have so many 
 claims upon me that I often don't know where eo curn for money 
 myself. However, it is different for you now you will not be 
 horribly poor any longer at all events ! ' 
 
 ' No, I suppose not. And really he is very good ! ' 
 
 ' I don't doubt it for a moment, and of course, as you say, you 
 are the best judge I dare say you will be very happy." 
 
 In parting Chadwick gave his host and hostess a pressing invi- 
 tation to visit them at his place at Gorsecombe after the marriage. 
 ' Always pleased to see any of Selina's family, my lord,' he assured 
 him. ' Just drop us a line a day or cwo before to say we're to expect 
 you. and you may depend upon us to let you know if it's incon- 
 venient run down when you can, and no ceremony.'
 
 110 THE PARIAH 
 
 To which Lady Yaverland had replied somewhat frostily for 
 herself and her husband, that ' Mr. Chadwick was too kind but 
 they so seldom paid any visits now.' 
 
 ' An offensive fellow, Gwen ! ' Lord Yaverland remarked when 
 his guests were gone. ' Don't know when I've seen a more offensive 
 fellow. What on earth possessed Selina to take up with him ? ' 
 
 ' Poor dear Selina ! ' said his wife, ' she has her girls to think of. 
 He's very well off, I understand. I'm afraid we can't know them, 
 though.' 
 
 ' I couldn't stand him at Arreton, I know that. Selina must 
 come alone if she comes at all.' 
 
 ' She won't expect it ; she is very sensible about some things. 
 We have done our duty, at least ; we can run up for the wedding, 
 you know I'm afraid you've had a boring evening, George ? ' 
 
 ' Well, my dear, I did find him a trifle fatiguing.' 
 
 ' Think what it will be for poor Selina ! ' 
 
 ' That's her look-out,' said Lord Yaverland, as he retired to his 
 library. At about the same time Chadwick, as he escorted Mrs. 
 Chevening home, was reviewing the evening with complacency. 
 
 ' I think, Selina,' he was saying, ' I gave his lordship a wrinkle 
 or two' (a surmise which was more literally correct than he 
 imagined). 'I tackled him about India did you hear me? I 
 always get my monkey up when I hear these swells laying down 
 the law about indigo, when all the time they don't know the dif- 
 ference between a r"x>t and a gantidar ! Still, I hope I was civil, 
 eh?' 
 
 1 1 think, if anything, you were almost too too respectful in 
 Borne ways,' hazarded Mrs. Chevening. ' George isn't accustomed 
 to be called "my lord" quite so often.' 
 
 ' Why, I threw it in from time to time, just to show I remem- 
 bered the difference in rank between us,' cried Chadwick. ' God 
 bless my soul, Selina, do you suppose I don't know how to behave 
 even if I have lived amongst niggers all my life ? You seem to 
 think I'm an ignorant boor by the way you talk, hanged if you 
 don't ! ' 
 
 ' Indeed, Joshua, I never thought any such thing ! ' protested 
 Mrs. Chevening, who saw that his pride was seriously ruffled, ' and 
 I'm sure George was very much struck by all you said I thought 
 you were so right about things.' 
 
 ' Eight ? I should think I was right ! ' said Chadwick, mollified 
 at once. ' He knocked under completely after you went. I've taken 
 rather a fancy to him, I must say, and your sister seems a pleasant 
 woman stiffer than / care about but pleasant.' 
 
 ' Gwendolen can be very pleasant,' said her sister. 
 
 ' Well,' said Chadwick, ' I can't trot out any lords on my side 
 of the family, Selina, but perhaps we're none the worse for that. 
 Not that I've any objection to lords as such, but I don't run after 
 'em, and I'm in no hurry tor farm to run after me \ ' 
 
 ' I scarcely think you are likely to suffer any annoyance of that
 
 DANGERS OF NOT KNOWING WHEN TO STOP 111 
 
 kind,' Mrs. Chevening could not help retorting to which he replied 
 in all sincerity, that he ' did not advise any lord to try it on.' 
 
 Christinas approached, the last they were all to spend at Osier 
 House, which fact alone would have been enough to spoil the day 
 in anticipation for Margot, even if the party at the dinner-table 
 were not to be joined by Allen and his father. Chadwick had en 
 gaged quarters for Christmas at a hotel in Chiswick, and it was 
 arranged that Allen should come up and share them. He was 
 almost as much at the house as his father, and it fell to the girls' 
 lot to entertain him, which they found as irksome a task as ever. 
 Margot had schooled herself once more to behave to him wi'.h a 
 kind of severe tolerance, and, as usual, he accepted this as a symp- 
 tom of growing friendliness, and responded with what disdainful 
 Morgot chose to consider odious familiarity though, could she 
 have known it, there was nothing but the purest respect and admi- 
 ration in his feelings for her. 
 
 However, she could not, or would not, see it, and escaped from 
 the infliction of his company as often as she could, sometimes 
 soothing her irritation by lonely walks along the quaint old-world 
 streets and alleys by the riverside between Hammersmith and Kew 
 bridges ; for Margot preferred, when in these moods, to walk alone. 
 
 She had gone out one afternoon a day or two before Christmas, 
 and followed the road which, after striking inland to save a curve 
 of the bank, returns again to the river through one of the most 
 picturesque of old suburban streets. 
 
 How she loved it now this irregular winding thoroughfare of 
 old brick houses, with projecting corbelled roofs, whose white-sashed 
 windows rtmst have seen Hogarth's sturdy figure pass and repass 
 many a tune ! The little shops were bright with Christmas cheer ; 
 in the greengrocer's window stood the little figure of Father 
 Christmas, which had made its annual reappearance there every 
 year she had been in Chiswick it would come out again next 
 year, no doubt, but she would not be there to see. The grim old 
 mansions further on showed a glimpse of warmth and firelight 
 through the tall windows, and here, at the end of the lane, was the 
 church, and through a gap the river showed a dull lead-colour, with 
 oily eddies and flaws on its swollen surface, and the faint outlines 
 of trees on the opposite bank ; a tug, with a trail of barges in its 
 wake, came panting and puffing downi, as if protesting against over- 
 work. It was still light, the day had been mild for the season, and 
 the rain had not long cleared ; Margot walked on, unwilling to turn 
 back just then, her whole thoughts absorbed in self-pity. She had 
 left the river again, had passed a timber-yard, where a log was 
 screaming like a hurt animal tinder the whirr of the steam-saw, 
 and now she had come to a quiet old terrace, which, reserving its 
 best side for the river, presents the anomalous appearance of having 
 v.ll its front doors at the back. At the end of this row of quaint, 
 diminutive, pillared porches and irregularly placed windows, she 
 had resolved to turn, but before she reached it, someone came
 
 112 THE PARIAH 
 
 towards her from the narrow lane in front, and, with a curious 
 mixture of feeling, she saw that it was Nugent Orme. 
 
 Orme, of course, had been at least as quick in recognising her, 
 in spite of the failing light and the partial disguise of her winter 
 wraps. People who had once known Miss Chevening were not apt 
 to pass her by, and, as it chanced, he was thinking of her at that 
 very moment. To tell the truth, this was not the first time he had 
 taken this walk of late, and with a faint undefined expectation 
 of some such encounter as this, though hitherto only to experi- 
 ence the puzzling fact that the last place, as a rule, to find people 
 one is anxious to meet, is the neighbourhood where they happen to 
 dwell. 
 
 This time he had a definite reason for turning his steps in that 
 direction, as he had to see somebody at Chiswick, though he had 
 set out to walk there by the longer way along the river bank, less 
 with any real hope of seeing Miss Chevening than to please his 
 fancy once more with the endeavour to identify her house among 
 the many comfortable old houses by the riverside with the trees 
 darkening their verandahed fronts. 
 
 From this it will be perceived that the impression Miss Cheven- 
 ing had left on him was deeper after all than he had been disposed 
 to believe at the time. He was constantly making efforts to call 
 up her features and expression exactly ; sometimes with a tanta- 
 lising flash of success, generally with results distressing by their 
 vagueness. He speculated about her a good deal, too, going back 
 often in fancy to that delicious scene of reconciliation on his last 
 night, and trying to penetrate her motives. If only he could be 
 quite sure she was as anxious to keep his friendship as she seemed 
 if only she was as frank and unaffected as he had believed at the 
 time if she had not been practising on him for some reason or 
 other ! All this did not affect either his rest or his appetite, but it 
 gave his leisure thoughts an interest, a pervading romance and 
 sentiment which had not begun to fade as yet. 
 
 Now he saw her again, and instantly felt how faithlessly and 
 inadequately his memory had served him the reality was so far 
 more charming, there was so much that he had unaccountably for- 
 gotten ! That blending in her of the imperious young goddess and 
 the wilful child, for instance, had escaped him utterly till he saw 
 her now. She smiled at him as she held out her hand ; her eyes 
 were kind, though her mouth was a little tremulous, and she looked 
 less buoyant and less happy than he remembered her ; she had not 
 forgotten him, but he fancied she was not altogether glad to see 
 him just then. 
 
 ' Is this one of your haunts ? ' she inquired, as they stood there. 
 
 He explained, without thinking it necessary to mention that it 
 was not his first visit, that he had to call at Chiswick hotel on 
 business of his father's. 
 
 ' Do you know that you have chosen the most roundabout way 
 to get there ? '
 
 DANGERS OP NOT KNOWING WHEN TO STOP 113 
 
 ' Have I really ? ' he said hypocritically ; ' however, it is too 
 late to alter that now. 1 
 
 ' You might reach the main road from here it you are pressed for 
 time, but it is much the uglier way certainly. 1 was just turning 
 back, so, if you like, we might walk together part of the way, and 
 I could put you in the right road." 
 
 Miss Chevening did not know, and I am afraid did not greatly 
 care, how far she was warranted by the proprieties in making this 
 offer. At first, the pain of meeting him had outweighed the 
 pleasure, and her impulse had been to pass on after a few common- 
 place words, and go back by a different way. But when she saw 
 the very evident pleasure in his eyes, she had not the heart for this 
 it would be pleasant after all to talk with him again, even though 
 it was all so changed now. 
 
 How gratefully and gladly he accepted need not be said. He 
 had found her again, more kind and more beautiful than ever ; he 
 was walking by her side, and she was talking to him with the old 
 sweet brusqueness, and a delicate note of sadness in her voice 
 sometimes that endeared her more to him than any gaiety. 
 
 ' It seems years ago since the Trouville days,' she said, and 
 added : ' I mean so many things have happened since to me at 
 least.' She was wondering half hopefully if he had heard ; she 
 was sure he would be sorry for her. 
 
 ' Pleasant things, I hope '? ' he said. He knew nothing, then 
 could she bring herself to tell him ? 
 
 ' No, indeed ; nothing will ever be pleasant any more ! ' said 
 Miss Chevening, in a tone of mournful conviction. 
 
 ' I am so sorry so sincerely sorry,' he said gently. ' I hardly 
 dare to ask questions, but it is not illness ? ' 
 
 ' Nothing to do with illness. We we shall have to leave our 
 pretty old house, for one thing.' 
 
 ' You are not leaving England ? ' he asked anxiously. 
 
 ' No I almost wish we were, instead of but I can't tell 
 
 you just now. I will try to tell you presently, if I am able. Now, 
 tell me about yourself, and all that you have been doing since we 
 parted.' 
 
 Seeing that she evidently meant to change the subject, he gave 
 her as much of his history during the past months as was likely to 
 be of any interest to her, and she listened and made comments 
 which he thought showed a delightful interest in his proceedings, 
 and by-and-by they passed to general topics. And they walked on, 
 past Chiswick Mall (where she professed to know the very house 
 where Miss Pinkerton had once kept her celebrated academy, and 
 the gate through which the Sedley coach had driven that summer 
 day with Amelia and Becky Sharp inside, and black Sambo behind), 
 past the church, and the little angle of eighteenth-century build- 
 ings, with the more modern, but still old-fashioned, shops below 
 the red brick bulging fronts and high brown roofs ; the butcher's, 
 with its Christmas show of red and white joints ; the grocer's, with 
 
 I
 
 114 THE PARIAH 
 
 the heat of the gas made a misty blur on the small-paned shop 
 fronts. Then into gloom again, under the bulging ivy-topped walla 
 of private parks, with glimpses through the railings of green and 
 mildewed statues, looking slightly uncanny in the gathering gloom ; 
 and, here and there, amongst the shadowy trunks and tree-tops, a 
 great cedar rising in darker outline against the grey background. 
 Then along a lonely road facing the west, where a gleam of stormy 
 yellow showed that the sun was setting, and on till the river came 
 in sight once more, and the willows and poplars were delicately 
 traced against a sunset sky which had suddenly become mottled 
 with vivid patches of olive, grey, green, crocus and blue. 
 
 They met scarcely anybody; this old-world region, though 
 surrounded by building estates, and villas, and flaring new shops 
 seems forgotten, untouched amidst so much change given over for 
 a little longer to dignified decay and ghostly memories of past 
 grandeur ; there was a strange intimate charm to him in walking 
 there with her in the silence and solitude, something dreamy and 
 poetic in the place which both felt. 
 
 ' You are not very far from your journey's end now, Mr. Orme,' 
 she said, with a return to practical life, as they entered the region 
 of brick and stucco once more, and saw the tall mass of the water- 
 tower painted in faint grey monochrome upon the green evening 
 sky. 'I will show you a short cut which will take you to the 
 hotel.' 
 
 ' The hotel ? ' he said abstractedh' ; ' to bo sure, I was going 
 there. That reminds me ' (the young man was glad to catch at 
 any excuses for prolonging the conversation), ' I don't think I 
 mentioned who it is I am going to see. You remember the Chad- 
 wicks, at the Californie ? ' 
 
 ' Very well,' she said the possibility that he was going to call 
 on Mr. Chadwick had already occurred to her she had expected 
 this, and tried to avert it. Now it had come. 
 
 ' I remember,' he said, ' that they were not favourites of yours, 
 still it may interest you to hear that the father is going to marry 
 again.' 
 
 She would tell him in a moment not yet; she put off her 
 revelation, not unwilling that he should be impressed by her 
 stoicism. ' It does interest me very much,' she said, with her 
 enigmatic smile. ' Do you have you heard who the lady is ? ' 
 
 ' Only the mere fact at present, and not even that till a day or 
 two ago. I am sorry for that poor young fellow.' 
 
 ' Sorry sorry for him ? ' Miss Chevening flamed out sud- 
 denly. 'J should have thought other persons were more to be 
 pitied.' 
 
 ' So you haven't forgiven him even yet ! ' he said, smiling at 
 this proof that the old petulant prejudice was still alive ; ' aren't 
 you rather hard on him, Miss Chevening ? ' 
 
 ' But why should lie be the person to be pitied for bis father's 
 second marriage ? ' she persisted.
 
 DANGERS OF NOT KNOWING WHEN TO STOP 115 
 
 The pleasantest conversations generally have a stage at which 
 we could wish, afterwards, they had ended little as he knew it, 
 Orrne was passing that stage now. 
 
 "Well, you see,' he explained, ' he's an only son, anil well, I 
 gathered from what I was told vhat the lady who is going to marry 
 his father was not doing so out of disinterested affection exactly. 
 And, though you will probably decline to believe that anybody 
 would marry him for love, a woman who does it for money is not 
 likely to prove the best conceivable step-mother, is she ? ' 
 
 They were standing together at the point where the riverside 
 path begins again though the road is continued inland. In the 
 pain, the indignant surprise, and shame which that imprudent 
 speech of his had excited, all impulse to enlighten him vanished. 
 Where now was the compassion the respectful and admiring 
 compassion she had looked for ? How could she tell him, after 
 that ! Was this how the world would look at it ? Oh, the world 
 was cruel and stupid, and she hated it ! The scene around her 
 suddenly became dreary and dismal she hated it all ; the humble 
 little riverside cottages and ancient taverns, the muddy path, the 
 dim black barges close in imder the bank, between which the 
 water was swashing and gurgling mournfully, the pale river gliding 
 by, the ugly lattice bridge over which a train, a long line of yellow 
 bars, was passing, repeated in the water below, all seemed an 
 appropriate background to her wretchedness at that moment. 
 
 'I I don't agree with you at all,' she said tremulously; 'it is 
 you who are not charitable now ! And,' she added, recovering her 
 dignitj', ' I will say good-bye here, please, Mr. Orrne. ' 
 
 He felt that her manner had altered, that he had received his 
 dismissal, but he did not suspect the extent of his offence. She 
 never could mention young Chadwick without that hostility ; he 
 ought to have known better, he reflected, as he went on alone, but 
 with no serious uneasiness. Nothing could dash his spirits just 
 then he had found her again his beautiful, unforgettable friend, 
 and he had new recollections to live upon until he saw her again 
 for that he should see her again, he was certain ! She was more 
 delightful than ever, less abrupt and imperious, gentler and more 
 subdued. He must not let himself fall in love with her that was 
 rmt of the question as yet but what if, some day ? For a man 
 who was not admittedly in love he found a pleasure in dwelling 
 upon the possibility of becoming so which might have caused him 
 to beware. But perhaps he no longer wished to beware. He had 
 known when he set out to walk that afternoon, so he told himself 
 new, that this afternoon was not to be as any common afternoon. 
 
 Margot went 011 her way in a very different frame of mind : she 
 had been punished, she thought bitterly, for her desire to enjoy 
 Nugent Orme's companionship once more for a little while ! When 
 he knew that he had been speaking slightingly to her of her own 
 mother, what would he feel '? Would it make him despise them 
 all ? And then she remembered his manner when they met by
 
 116 THE PAHIAS 
 
 the terrace that afternoon he did like her, she was certain, he 
 had been very glad to see her again, he would be horrified with 
 himself when he knew, and he would be sorry for her. It was 
 useless trying to feel angry with him, he had offended in perfect 
 innocence. She felt that she might be sure of a staunch friend in 
 him. But now she would be leaving London very soon, and then 
 she would lose sight of him this time altogether perhaps ! It 
 might have been so different if if it were not for this marriage, 
 and, as she reached this point in her meditations, all her dis- 
 pleasure as usual concentrated itself upon one unconscious and 
 unoffending head. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 A MODUS VIVENDI. 
 
 On e'emmie toujcmrs avec les gens avec qui il n'est pas perrnis de 
 B'ennuyer. La Rochefoucauld. 
 
 Miss CHEVENING had very little farther to go ; after'passing a quaint 
 old inn, with a cheery glow behind its striped blinds, an irregular 
 and incongruous row of buildings small shops, cottages and at 
 intervals a house of some importance, all standing within a few feet 
 of the river bank she stopped at a gate close behind which a steep 
 flight of stone steps led up to a door between two slender columns 
 supporting an overhanging bay, and this was Osier House, her 
 home for only a very little while longer. 
 
 The door was opened by a housemaid, who was in secret a 
 severe trial to Margot, so far was she from coming up to the West- 
 End standard of domestic smartness and neatness. 
 
 ' Why, you have had a walk, miss ! ' said this handmaiden, with 
 a cheerful grin, which Margot would have preferred to see ex- 
 changed for a cleaner apron; however, all that did not matter 
 much now. 
 
 ' Yes,' she said ; ' have you brought up tea yet, Anne ? ' 
 
 ' Why no ! I ain't on'y just come down from tidying myself, 
 miss,' said this unblushing person ; ' but I'm going to bring the 
 younger ones theirs in the schoolroom ; will you take yours there, 
 or up in the droring-room with the mistress ? Mr. Chadwick, he'll 
 be in soon.' 
 
 ' In the schoolroom,' Miss Chevening interrupted quickly ; and, 
 her serenity very far from recovered, she went into the school- 
 room, where she found them all engaged over some round game of 
 cards. 
 
 ' Quite a happy family ! ' she exclaimed with a touch of her 
 habitual disdain, when she saw that Allen was amongst the 
 party.
 
 A MODUS VIVENDI 117 
 
 1 Mother said we were to play,' explained Lettice ; ' don't you 
 think we could stop now, Margot ? ' she asked in a plaintive 
 voice. 
 
 ' It is so unpleasant playing with anybody who cheats whenever 
 he can ! ' struck in Ida. ' I saw him taking my counters.' 
 
 ' It was only for a lark, Margot,' Allen protested ; ' it's not as if 
 we were playing for money.' 
 
 ' You do draw that distinction, then ! ' said Margot ; ' but why 
 cheat at all ? It's not generally considered part of the fun at least 
 not with us I ' 
 
 ' I won't cheat any more,' said Allen, ' if you'll come and play 
 too, Margot ? ' 
 
 ' Not even that inducement tempts me,' she returned ; ' and, 
 Camilla, I fancy you might let them leave off now ; they seem 
 tired of it.' 
 
 ' Well,' said Miss Henderson, ' if Mr. Allen will excuse us, I do 
 think the game has lasted long enough.' 
 
 ' J didn't want to play cards,' said Allen, who had certainly 
 been given small reason to enjoy this particular game, 'it was your 
 mother set us down to it.' 
 
 ' Mother didn't know you wouldn't play fair,' said Lettice, who 
 attached a serious importance to winning counters ; ' that spoils 
 everything ! ' 
 
 ' Yes,' said Eeggie, ' it's cheating to look at your cards before 
 playing, and that's what you did everytime ; if you cheat, we ought 
 all to cheat, or it's not fair ! ' 
 
 ' I've told you it was all by way of a joke like ! ' said Allen ; ' but 
 of course I can't do anything to please you I'm ready enough to 
 stop, I can tell you.' 
 
 He was more irritated than usual, for his cheating had been a 
 very obvious and simple performance, due to some blundering idea 
 of promoting the hilarity, which struck him as wanting, for some 
 reason. He was not aware that the humour of an unpopular 
 person must be irresistible indeed to extort success, but then he was 
 not aware either how unpopular he was. 
 
 He could not take his eyes from Margot as she stood there, with 
 the delicate colour in her cheeks freshened by her walk ; he had 
 hoped she would join them, and, perhaps, take his part against the 
 rest, for he always felt as if he knew her best, and it made him very 
 sore that she, too, should seem to turn against him. 
 
 ' Please don't let us all lose our tempers,' said Margot ; ' they 
 don't understand your peculiar notions about games of chance, 
 Allen, that is all.' 
 
 ' Now you're bringing that Petits Chevaux business up again ! ' 
 he said, almost savagely ; ' haven't I told you how that was ? I 
 didn't think you'd throw that in my teeth, Margot ! ' 
 
 ' I had no intention of throwing anything in your teeth,' she 
 returned haughtily ; ' they have had enough of cards for this 
 evening, as yoi; must see by this time,'
 
 118 THE PARIAH 
 
 'Perhaps you've hail enough of me too?' he asked roughly, 
 though his voice quivered. 
 
 Margot shrugged her shoulders. ' No one has said so,' she an- 
 swered ; ' stay by all means, if you like to behave yourself.' 
 
 ' I won't stay ! ' said Allen, 'not to be treated this way. I'm 
 willing enough to be pleasant but you're all against me, every one 
 of you ! Anyone would think I wasn't fit to come near you. You 
 forget it's my father who 
 
 Margot's eyes gleamed with anger as she held open the door. 
 '"Will you kindly go out of the room before you say another 
 word ? ' she said, very quietly. 
 
 He was cowed in an instant. ' I I wasn't going to say any- 
 thing,' he said ; ' you you drive me to it you're so precious hard 
 on a chap ! ' 
 
 ' Go ! ' was all Margot said : and he went, out of the room and 
 out of the house, with a feeling that he was in hopeless disgrace. 
 
 The girls looked at one another blankly as the front door 
 slammed. ' "We have done it now,' said Ida ; ' he will tell mother, 
 and she'll be awfully angry ; you know how particularly she told us 
 not to quarrel with him.' 
 
 ' He may tell mother, if he wishes to,' said Margot. ' What a 
 delightful, loveable brother he will make ! We ought to be very 
 grateful girls ! ' 
 
 Allen was walking back to the hotel, the only place he could go 
 to, with a growing sense of injustice. He liked them all so much 
 and they would not like him ! and now they had made him lose 
 his temper and say things (or very nearly say them) that he had 
 never meant to do. What had possessed him, and how could he 
 regain Margot's good opinion ? He quite believed he was winning 
 it till then, and he could not bear his life if she would not forgive 
 him. 
 
 Someone was just leaving the hotel as he came up ; he heard 
 his father's voice calling from the portico 'Good-bye, glad you 
 came over, and you may tell your father what I said.' 
 
 Then a tall, well-set-up figure was about to pass him. 
 
 ' Orme ! ' cried Allen, ' I say Mr. Orme ! ' 
 
 Orme stopped. ' So you're at Chiswick too ! ' he said ; ' why, I 
 haven't seen you since our Trouville time ; how are things with 
 you, old fellow ? ' 
 
 There was a kindness in his voice that went to Allen's heart 
 just then. ' They're bad,' he said dolefully, ' beastly bad. I'm that 
 wretched, Orme, I can't bear myself! ' 
 
 Orme drew his arm within his. ' Tell us all about it,' he said 
 encouragingly. 
 
 ' You've heard my father's going to get married again ? ' began 
 Allen. 
 
 ' I have just been told, and to whom ! ' replied Orme, winc- 
 ing slightly; he was a little hurt at Margot's reticence, and 
 just beginning to recall with shame his own rash and unpardonable
 
 A MODUS VIVENDI 119 
 
 remarks. ' But I can't see,' he continued, ' that you've any reason 
 to be so wretched as that, though I know it's hard perhaps at 
 first.' 
 
 Then Allen confided to him the cause of his unhappiness, and 
 the scene which had just taken place. ' I should be nothing but 
 pleased about it,' he concluded, ' if Margot if they'd only show 
 signs of coming round ; but they're all against me ; I can't satisfy 
 them, do what I will ! Mrs. Chevening, she's the only one now 
 that speaks me civil.' 
 
 Orme could not help making excuses for Miss Chevening in his 
 heart ; he knew the strength of her prejudices, and perhaps he felt 
 what it must be to her to have to receive this unfortunate neglected 
 boy as her equal ; he had been as prejudiced himself not so very 
 long ago he pitied both sides, and her not less of the two. 
 
 But he did his best to smooth matters. 'Look here,' he said, 
 1 don't make too much of this you mustn't expect to get on with 
 them quite at once. Have patience, and it will all come right. All 
 you have to do is to wait. I wouldn't appear to force myself on 
 them, you know. Remember, it's a great change for them as well 
 as for you, they will feel that for a little time it's natural ! ' 
 
 ' But Margot's had plenty of time to get used to me ! ' said 
 Allen ; ' I thought she was used to me and now she's as hard on 
 me as the rest of 'em.' 
 
 ' Miss Chevening is is quick-tempered, I dare say,' said Nugent, 
 'but she's generous too. When she sees that you really want to be 
 on good terms with them all, and only ask to be met half-way, 
 depend upon it she will be kinder; she doesn't understand that 
 quite yet.' 
 
 ' If I could only think that, I wouldn't mind,' he declared ; ' she 
 might treat me as unkind as she chose, I'd bear it cheerful I I 
 would, Orme, so long as she came round in the end. "What I'm so 
 unhappy about is, that p'raps she never will come round 1 ' 
 
 ' She will, my dear fellow,' said Orme ; ' I'll answer for it she 
 will, if you're patient. Meet her as if all this had not happened, 
 and let her see that you are ready to forget it and be friends if she 
 chooses, but leave it to her to make any advances.' 
 
 ' I will,' said Allen ; I'll do that thank you, Orme, but I don't 
 believe it'll be any use. I know I'd be glad enough if it would ! ' 
 
 Orme parted from him at the Gunnersbury Station with a deeper 
 pity. ' Poor young fellow ! ' he was thinking, ' I wonder if I gave 
 him the right advice I hope I have. She can so well afford to 
 treat him decently, with all the advantages on her side. I don't 
 believe she can be bad-hearted, with that face ! Still, he will have 
 a good deal to overcome.' And then he occupied himself with the 
 more personal consideration of whether he, too, had offended irre- 
 mediably that afternoon. ' If I had known, I would have cut my 
 tongue out sooner than make that infernally foolish speech ! ' he 
 thought irritably ; ' but who could have thought such a thing 
 possible ? There, it's no use thinking of it ! '
 
 120 THE PARIAH 
 
 As he went back to his rooms his expedition began to appear 
 more eventful than satisfactory. ' We're both in the same boat,' he 
 told himself grimly, ' except that he has a chance of putting him- 
 self right with her, and I haven't unless it comes at the Vicarago 
 eome day.' 
 
 Chadwick came in that evening as usual. ' Christmas will be 
 on us very soon now,' he remarked (he had a talent for platitude). 
 ' Day after to-morrow. Well, it will be rather a different sort of 
 Christmas from the ones I've had to spend for the last twenty 
 years ! ' 
 
 4 A pleasanter, 1 nope ! ' said Mrs. Chevening. 
 
 ' Ah, you may say that. Why, last year, except a half-share in 
 a concern that hadn't paid for eighteen months, I wasn't worth a 
 rupee. I didn't keep Christmas much out there, I can tell you. 
 But they take care you don't forget it in the old country. You 
 wouldn't believe the number of begging letters I get, which reminds 
 me you'll be interested in this, young lady,' he added, turning to 
 Margot, who knew what was coming and tried hard to seem in- 
 different, ' who d'ye suppose now I had calling on me this after- 
 noon ? someone you've met. Give a guess.' 
 
 ' I never was clever at guessing ! ' replied Margot, hoping that 
 her face was not betraying her. 
 
 'Well, I thought you'd have guessed this it was that clever 
 young tutor fellow I got for my boy. Came about some fund or 
 other, his father, the Vicar, got me to say I'd do something for. 
 Young Orme didn't know who was to be the second Mrs. Chadwick 
 till I told him, Selina. A rare surprise it was to him to find she'd 
 turned out to be an old friend of his ! ' 
 
 ' Eeally, Joshua,' said Mrs. Chevening, ' I should hardly call 
 him a friend of mine. I never particularly noticed him.' 
 
 ' Ah, and I suppose I shall hear now that Miss Margot didn't 
 notice him particularly either ! ' 
 
 ' Of course I noticed him,' said Margot calmly ; ' I saw and 
 spoke to him several times he was one of your friends. What 
 then ? ' 
 
 ' Nothing that I know of,' answered Chadwick, who was not 
 quite at ease with this stately step- daughter of his. ' I asked him 
 to come back with me and have a talk about old times with you 
 two ladies, but he said he must get back to town.' 
 
 ' I can't profess to be sorry to have missed him,' said Mrs. 
 Chevening ; ' he was not the sort of young man that I take much 
 interest in ; and besides, we are not likely to see anything of him 
 again.' 
 
 ' I don't know that,' said Chadwick ; ' he'll be down at the 
 Vicarage sometimes, I dare say, for the holidays ; he's going down 
 fco-morrow, he said. I thought I told you his father was the Vicar 
 of Gorsecombe.' 
 
 Margot listened, and all at once, for some reason, she could not 
 account for, her lot seemed to have grown more supportable. She
 
 A MODUS VIVENDI 121 
 
 found comfort, excitement even, in the thought that her mother's 
 marriage would bring her nearer to someone who she instinctively 
 felt admired her, whose good opinion she valued, whose sympathy 
 she desired. 
 
 He would be there now and then to see the trials she would 
 have to submit to, and her heroism under them for of course she 
 would be heroic. She forgot the humiliation she had felt at the 
 idea of his learning her changed fortunes. After all, it was through 
 no fault of hers why hadn't she told him herself at once ? she 
 fancied she knew what had led him to decline Mr. Chadwick's 
 offer to bring him to Osier House, and liked him the better for it. 
 
 Altogether, when Allen came in presently, full of misgivings 
 but resolved to carry out Orme's advice, he found, to his joy and 
 surprise, that it was no longer necessary. Margot seemed entirely 
 to have forgotten her recent displeasure, and was gentler and more 
 nearty cordial than he had ever known her yet. She even began 
 a conversation with him of her own accord, while then: respective 
 parents were discussing some decorator's plans at the other end of 
 the room, and for the first time she condescended to show an 
 interest in the neighbourhood they were all to live in. If her 
 questions reverted from time to time to the Vicarage and its occu- 
 pants, he was not likely to notice that under the new sensation 
 of finding his remarks received with attentive interest. 
 
 He took this to be a sign that her heart smote her with a sense 
 that she had been unkind, and that she had set herself to make 
 amends. It was true what Orme had said she was generous, but, 
 whether kind or cruel, generous or unforgiving, she exercised a 
 power over him that would be hard to destroy. 
 
 Christmas passed, the new year outwore its novelty, and, ac- 
 cording to the calendar, winter was already giving place to spring, 
 though shrivelling winds and black frosts gave an even more bit- 
 terly ironical turn than usual to the season of promise and hope. 
 
 But at Osier House Miss Chevening had other things to occupy 
 her thoughts than the state of the weather ; her mother's marriage 
 was to take place at the end of the month, and time was rushing 
 on in a whirl of preparation in which she could not avoid being 
 more or less involved, however she tried to keep aloof. 
 
 Mrs. Chevening always resented the indifference her eldest 
 daughter displayed in the arrangements that were being made in 
 their future home. She would come home after having been absent 
 all day, superintending the redecoration and furnishing which she 
 had persuaded Chadwick were indispensable, and would find Margot 
 provokingly uninterested. 
 
 'Really, the house looks quite a different place already!' she 
 would say. ' I've chosen the sweetest paper for your room, dearest 
 one, with a pattern of all willow leaves in blended tints of pale 
 olive quite simple, but so pretty ! ' 
 
 ' Have you, dear ? ' Margot would answer ; ' thank you.' 
 
 1 1 wanted you to choose for yourself, you know, but you wouldn't,
 
 122 THE PARIAH 
 
 you idle child.' (It was not idleness, as her mother knew very 
 well, though she chose to consider it so.) ' Now do rouse yourself 
 from that chair and come here and say what you think you would 
 like to go with the paper here are all the patterns.' 
 
 1 1 can't tell without having seen the paper.' 
 
 ' I kept a piece on purpose there, I'll save you the trouhle of 
 Coming, I'll bring the patterns to you. Am I not a good mother ? ' 
 
 Margot would turn over the little hooks with listless white 
 fingers for a few moments, and then give them back, saying, ' I 
 really don't mind what it is, mother ; choose what you think best 
 and I shall be quite satisfied.' 
 
 ' That is not a very grateful return for Mr. Chadwick's kindness 
 he was particularly anxious that your tastes should be considered 
 in every way." 
 
 ' Was he ? It is kind of him ; but really I've no preferences.' 
 
 ' Then am I to tell the upholsterer's man he may put up what 
 he pleases ? ' 
 
 ' If you like, dear,' Miss Chevening would reply languidly ; and 
 then, with more animation, ' Not the upholsterer's man, mother ! 
 You choose for me ! ' 
 
 ' Indeed, my dear, if you do not think it worth taking some 
 trouble about, yourself, I certainly shall not worry about it.' 
 
 ' Well, I will just look at the patterns and paper once more,' 
 Miss Chevening was reduced to saying humbly, with a sense of 
 being untrue to herself. 
 
 Margot had resolved beforehand that, if she was compelled to 
 enter the house of bondage, she would not at least be so compliant 
 as to betray any interest in the appointments of her prison-chamber. 
 Perhaps, however, she felt that she could place reliance upon her 
 mother's taste; whereas that not unskilful mention of the up- 
 holsterer had shattered all her apathy at a blow. 
 
 On one other point, too, she had been roused to disregard her 
 personal dignity. Her mother had hinted at keeping Anne in her 
 service as a maid for her daughters. This was more than Miss 
 Chevening's philosophy could stand. 
 
 ' Please, not Anne, dear ! ' she said. 
 
 ' She seemed so anxious to come,' said her mother ; ' she's been 
 with us eighteen months, and she's a very respectable girl. I 
 thought you Liked her, dear.' 
 
 1 Oh, I Like her very well,' replied Margot, ' but I don't want a 
 maid.' 
 
 ' If you don't, Ida and Lettie will, as nurse is going.' 
 
 ' Well, then,' said Margot, driven desperate, ' if we must have 
 one, do let us have somebody about us who is nice and attractive 
 to look at. I couldn't bear to let Anne touch me I Surely, now, 
 we can have maids like other people ? ' 
 
 ' Anne is a dreadful slattern, certainly. If I advertise, will you 
 see the people when they come for the place ? ' 
 
 'No, dear, you see them,' pleaded Margot; 'I shouldn't know
 
 A MODUS VIVENDI 123 
 
 in the least what to say to them, or ask them, I'm so helpless in 
 all these things.' 
 
 So she obtained her own way, without having to undertake any 
 personal exertion. She was weak after all ; even her opposition to 
 the marriage was not so strong as it had been. She caught herself 
 sometimes forming plans and anticipations for the new life with a 
 fickleness which she despised. There were moments when she 
 actually had to remind herself of the unparalleled indignity to 
 which she would be constantly exposed, and the surest means of 
 doing so was to think of Allen Chadwick, who little suspected his 
 efficacy as a mental stimulant. 
 
 And now the remaining days of Mrs. Chevening's widowhood 
 had dwindled to very few indeed ; the banns had been twice read 
 out in the church by the riverside. Margot had heard them 
 announced once with downcast eyes and hot cheeks ' between 
 Joshua Smithson Chadwick, widower, of the parish of Gorsecombe, 
 Pineshire, and Selina Letitia Chevening, widow, of this parish.' 
 There was no just cause or impediment except to the mind of the 
 girl who sat there with the vision before her of a neglected grave 
 far away on a forgotten Asian battlefield. 
 
 ' I suppose,' said Chadwick one evening, ' it isn't the right thing 
 to have bridesmaids eh, Selina ? ' 
 
 ' Surely you know that ! ' was the answer. 
 
 ' Well, I'm not up in these matters the only time I went 
 through it we got it done at a Registry office. But there's no harm 
 in treating the two elder girls as bridesmaids in one respect, I dare 
 say?' 
 
 Margot, who, with Ida, was in the room at the time, looked up 
 quickly. 
 
 ' I don't in the least know what you mean,' said her mother. 
 
 Chadwick was feeling in his pockets with a comfortable sort of 
 chuckle. 
 
 ' "Why, I don't profess, as I said, to know about these things, 
 but I understand it's usual for the happy man to give the brides- 
 maids a small present, just to remember the occasion by. So,' 
 here he tossed a packet into Margot's lap and another upon the 
 sofa where Ida was sitting, ' there's yours, and there's yours.' 
 
 ' Joshua,' cried Mrs. Chevening, ' how kind you are to my poor 
 girls they haven't words to thank you just yet ... it is really 
 too too good of you to think of them ! ' 
 
 Margot was opening the parcel with reluctant deliberation; 
 inside was a morocco case, which she found to contain a locket. 
 It was of immense size and solidity, and in the centre was a 
 large carbuncle set in turquoises and an enamelled border. It 
 was costly and it was undeniably hideous. She gazed at it in 
 dismay. 
 
 ' Handsome articles, aren't they ? ' said Chadwick compla- 
 cently. ' They're both alike. I told the jeweller to make me a 
 duplicate, so that you shouldn't say I made any distinctions
 
 124 THE PAEIAH 
 
 between you. I think your mother would like to have a look when 
 you've done, young lady.' 
 
 It is always embarrassing to express gratitude in words, but 
 never more BO, perhaps, than when we are called upon to thank 
 someone we do not like for something we do not want. 
 
 Margot would have given anything to be able to refuse this gift, 
 especially as it was not an ornament she could bring herself to 
 wear, but she knew that anything but acceptance was impossible. 
 She crossed to where Chadwick was sitting and held out her hand 
 meekly. ' I can only say " Thank you," ' she said. 
 
 4 Well, well,' he replied ; ' I know young ladies are fond of 
 finery mind, you take care of it, that's all. But aren't you going 
 to give me a kiss for it ? ' 
 
 Margot cast an appealing glance at her mother, who judged it 
 better to interpose. 
 
 ' Margot never was a kissing person, Joshua, so I think you 
 must excuse her. I'm sure she is very, very grateful for so so 
 handsome a present aren't you, darling ? ' 
 
 4 Yes, mother,' said Margot, escaping with relief. 
 
 Ida, who had not been equally fortunate, joined her presently 
 in a little sitting-room at the back. 
 
 4 Aren't they dreadful, Margot ? ' she exclaimed. 
 
 4 Hideous ! ' said Miss Chevening, opening the case containing 
 her own locket, and regarding it with unconcealed distaste. ' Wliy 
 must he give us anything, and why such things as these ? ' 
 
 ' Shall you wear yours, Margot ? ' 
 
 4 Wear it ? ' exclaimed Miss Chevening. Wear this ! How 
 could I ? I wish it wasn't wrong to want to throw it into the 
 river. No, I shall have to keep it, but I will not I simply will 
 not wear it 1 ' 
 
 4 Is that the way you talk of presents when they're given you ? ' 
 said a voice from the doorway. It was Allen's ; he had come up 
 to the hotel again that week and had been in the drawing-room, a 
 witness to the presentation scene, though the girls had not noticed 
 him at the time. Now he had followed them out with a hope of 
 receiving some thanks for his own share in the transaction, which 
 consisted in helping his father in the difficult work of selection. 
 
 4 You were not intended to hear what we said,' said Miss 
 Chevening loftily. 
 
 4 You spoke loud enough,' he said, 4 and the door was left open 
 but look here, what's the matter with the lockets ? ' 
 
 4 Nothing,' said Margot, ' nothing is the matter with the lockets 
 they are very big and expensive and handsome.' 
 
 4 That's what I should have said. Why won't you wear them, 
 then ? ' 
 
 ' You don't understand these things,' said Margot, feeling it use- 
 less to deny her words. ' Girls of our of our age, don't wear 
 expensive jewels like these.' 
 
 ' They're not so expensive as they look,' said the candid Allen,
 
 A MODUS VIVENDI 125 
 
 ' Expensive or not, they are not the sort of things that are worn 
 that was all we meant.' 
 
 ' Then I'll tell the governor, and get him to have them changed,' 
 he proposed. 
 
 ' If you wish to make mischief, do so ; but I warn you that, if 
 you say a word of what you had no right to listen to at all, I will 
 never speak to you again if I can help it. I mean it, Allen.' 
 
 ' I didn't mean it for mischief, only to do you a good turn,' ho 
 protested ; ' but if you don't want me to say anything, why, I 
 won't, and there's an end of it. "Why do you always try to make 
 out that I'm intending what never carne in my head V ' 
 
 ' Don't let it come into your head, then.' 
 
 1 Well,' he said, ' whether you wear those lockets or not, they're 
 worth something, you know. They aren't expensive, considering 
 they look so showy ; but you could sell them each any day in the 
 week for fifteen pounds a-piece at the very least any jeweller 'd 
 give you that for 'em ! ' 
 
 ' It is a pity that so much money has been wasted upon us 
 said Margot, lifting her chin, ' because, you see, we are not in the 
 habit of selling our jewellery, whether we are able to wear it or not.' 
 
 ' Of course, I know you wouldn't do it yourselves,' he said ; ' but 
 you might want money on a sudden some day. I'd manage it all 
 for you. I've had to do it with things of my own now and then. 
 It's useful to know that's all I meant.' 
 
 ' When I think proper to entrust you with any of my belongings 
 to dispose of,' returned Miss Chevening, with freezing dignity, ' I 
 shall let you know. I am not quite reduced to that just yet.' 
 
 ' There's nothing to be offended at,' he said, between shame and 
 sullenness : ' none was intended, I'm sure.' 
 
 ' There is no use in being offended. If you could only under- 
 stand that money is not the principal object in life, your conversa- 
 tion would be so much pleasanter to listen to, that's all.' 
 
 4 1 dare say, if all was known, I'm not more set on money than 
 other people,' he retorted. ' I've known what it was to want it. 
 Tell me what I can say that will be pleasant to listen to, and I'll 
 try to oblige.' 
 
 ' Then I will,' said Margot. ' It would be very pleasant to hear 
 you say, well something of this sort : " I'm afraid I am interrupt- 
 ing you, so I'll leave you to finish your talk." ' 
 
 ' Ah 1 ' he said bitterly, ' you don't, try to make your conversa- 
 tion over-pleasant, anyhow. I suppose that's a hint for me to go ? ' 
 
 ' You are getting quite quick at seeing things, Allen,' remarked 
 Ida. 
 
 Margot began to be afraid she had said too much. ' No, but, 
 Allen,' she said, more gently, ' don't think it.unkind, but we really 
 would rather be alone just now.' 
 
 ' If you'd spoken like that at first,' he said, ' I wouldn't have 
 minded. I don't wish to stay where I'm not wanted, only I like 
 to be treated civil.'
 
 126 THE PARIAH 
 
 ' We will treat you " civil," then,' said Margot, holding out her 
 hand. ' There, pood night, Allen . . . Oh, how rough you are, you 
 have crushed my hand ! ' 
 
 'I I didn't mean to. I can't do anythingright, I know. Good- 
 night.' 
 
 And one dull, bleak day in March, with a low grey-green sky 
 from which a few small snowflakes fell occasionally and a dry lead- 
 coloured haze that was more depressing than fog, Mrs. Chevening 
 was united in holy wedlock to Joshua Chadwick in the church on 
 the river-bank, and the tradesmen of Chiswick and Turnham 
 Green, though they refrained from any open manifestations, rejoiced 
 inwardly with an exceeding great joy. 
 
 Margot was in the church and heard her mother pronounce the 
 word which assigned herself and them to a strange and unknown 
 power. Lettice was there, and said afterwards that it would have 
 been much more cheerful if they had only lighted the ' chanticleer.' 
 Ida wept in torrents with the luxury of really having something to 
 weep for. Allen was there in the lightest of his gloves and 
 trousers, like a super at one of the interrupted weddings on the 
 stage. Lord and Lady Yaverland honoured the ceremony with 
 their presence and left early. 
 
 That is all that need be said here of that wedding, important as 
 the stage is which it marks in this history. 
 
 Still a little later and the last farewell had been said to the dear 
 old house of which the Chevening family had during their mother's 
 honeymoon as that period must, however inappropriately, be 
 called been in undisturbed possession. 
 
 They had arrived at their new home, Agra House. Even Miss 
 Chevening was compelled to own in her private mind that it might 
 have been much worse. It was big, and florid, and pretentious, 
 but it had been designed with a view to comfort, and now the 
 interior had been decorated and furnished according to her 
 mother's directions, and contained nothing to offend the eye. The 
 grounds too were large and well laid out. 
 
 There was a surprise in store for Miss Chevening. When she 
 rang for her maid, the girl her mother had engaged in place of 
 cashiered homely Anne, the face of the person who answered her 
 ring seemed strangely and not quite pleasantly familiar. At last 
 she remembered. ' I think,' she observed carelessly, ' we last met 
 on board the Littleharnpton steamer, and you were extremely 
 uncivil.' 
 
 Susan, for it was the same girl whom she had heard abusing 
 little Henri on the Trouville pla(je t reddened under her freckles. 
 ' Was I, miss ? ' she said. ' I beg your pardon, I'm sure, if I was ; 
 but I'd just lost my place, miss, and my feelings was hurt. I 
 wasn't answerable for what I said ; and seeing I'm here,' she went 
 on, ' though little thinking to wait on you, miss, I hope you won't 
 say anything to get me turned away. I can truly say I'll do my 
 best to give satisfaction.'
 
 A MODUS VIVENDI 127 
 
 Margot looked at the girl : she was neatly if coquettishly 
 dressed ; she was rather good-looking ; she seemed deft-handed and 
 respectful ; she would do well enough. 
 
 ' So long as you understand that you are to treat Miss Lettie 
 with proper respect,' she said, ' I shall not interfere. But you will 
 kindly remember you are not in France, and that you are my 
 sisters' maid, not their nurse.' 
 
 'Yes, miss; certainly, miss, thank you; and I'm sure I'm 
 obliged to you,' said Susan. But outside the door she said : ' I 
 thought my place was gone as soon as I saw her face. Well, I've 
 got round her this time, so I needn't bother. That pride o' yours 
 may have a fall some fine day, young lady, and when it does I 
 should like to be at hand looking on I '
 
 128 THE PARIAH 
 
 BOOK III. 
 PEELIMINARIES TO HANGING A DOG. 
 
 CHAPTEK I. 
 
 COMMENTS AFTER CHURCH. 
 
 Who marks in church time others' symmetry 
 Makes all their beauty his deformity. G. Herbert. 
 
 ON a certain bright April Sunday, those of the inhabitants of 
 Gorsecombe who had attended the parish church found themselves 
 at the conclusion of the service provided with a more than com- 
 monly exciting topic. 
 
 Mr. Chadwick and his newly-acquired family had made their 
 first appearance there in public, causing the devotions of too many 
 among the congregation to resemble those of Claudius, King of 
 Denmark. 
 
 In the churchyard and on the homeward ways tongues gener- 
 ally were let loose in criticism, curiosity, and speculation. 
 
 Mrs. Eddlestone, of Holly Bank, a widow with strong social 
 inclinations and three plain but accomplished daughters, con- 
 scientiously refrained from mentioning the subject until the lych- 
 gate was cleared, when, without waiting for Miss Member to finish 
 her strictures on the folly of keeping the church stove alight so late 
 in the spring, she began forthwith : ' So the Agra House people 
 have come back at last ? ' 
 
 ' Oh, yes,' said Miss Member. ' The governess and the girls 
 arrived on Friday they had the carriage to meet them and a cart 
 for the luggage, and I suppose the bride and bridegroom must have 
 come last night.' 
 
 ' I wonder how it was we never heard of it take care, my dear, 
 or you'll be run over, that new coachman the Hothams have does 
 drive so recklessly, someone really ought to speak to them about it. 
 Came last night, did they ? Well, they haven't lost any time in 
 showing themselves. I must say she is rather better than I had ex- 
 pected, and the daughters quite pretty which makes it more of a 
 pity, you know.' 
 
 ' Why ? ' asked Miss Member bluntly. ' How a pity ? '
 
 COMMENTS AFTER CHURCH 129 
 
 1 Well, I suppose we can't very well call on them no one has, 
 
 yet.' 
 
 ' That was different he was living alone then. I shall call as 
 soon as they've had time to settle down.' 
 
 ' Shall j'ou, really ? ' (Mrs. Eddlestone was surprised, for Miss 
 Member had the reputation of being extremely exclusive.) ' I 
 wouldn't mind for myself, but, with my girls to consider, I hardlj' 
 like to risk it. The late man was not recognised by any one, to 
 speak of, and no one seems to know this one. And I must say I 
 thought her manner in church this morning so unbecoming ; such 
 affectation to pretend not to know that people were looking at her, 
 and the daughters, too, dressed so conspicuously ! ' 
 
 ' I thought they had on very pretty frocks.' (Here Miss Member 
 glanced at the backs of the three Miss Eddlestones in front, for 
 whom a local dressmaker had too evidently done her very worst.) 
 ' She's rather too fine for him that's all I see against her.' 
 
 ' But we don't know who she ivas.' 
 
 ' Weren't you there when Mr. Liversedge was telling me ? Oh 
 no, you had left. She's the widow of a colonel who was killed in 
 India some years ago, and she has a sister who is married to Lord 
 Yaverland.' 
 
 ' Oh,' said Mrs. Eddlestone. ' Well, I suppose we ought to make 
 them feel as much at home as possible. Gorsecombe will be all 
 the better for a little fresh blood. What day were you thinking of 
 calling ? You might look in for me on your way up.' 
 
 In the main street of the village were little knots of ' chapel 
 folk ' who had been dismissed half an hour before, but still lingered 
 at various doors in the spring sunshine. As Chadwick and his 
 wife, followed by Allen and the three girls (Reggie was away at 
 school), passed up the centre of the road many eyes regarded them. 
 
 ' I should ha' thought,' said Mrs. Nutkins, a widow who kept a 
 small sweetstuff and fruit shop, ' as he might ha' give the preference 
 to Ebenezer, as was built by his own father, just this first Sunday 
 of all, go where he might afterwards. To think he's never set a 
 foot in the chapel, and his father, poor old gentleman, fillin' his 
 pew reg'lar Sunday after Sunday and always a sovereign in the 
 plate when it come round, and the curtain he had put up in his 
 seat for the drafties, there to this day to testify to him.' 
 
 ' They do say,' said Mr. Spufford, the serious draper, ' that this 
 one has been away out in India years and years, nigger slave- 
 driving. That may have set him against chapel going there's no 
 telling.' 
 
 ' More likely it's this dressed-up fine madam of a wife of his, as 
 thinks it beneath her to worship except it's along of the gentry. 
 Not as he's one of them, by rights. I've heard tell as his father 
 was only a big draper like, up at London, and began wonderful 
 small, no bigger than yourself, Mr. Spufford.' 
 
 Mr. Spufford was a stout young man with a puffy white face, 
 mutton-chop whiskers and small eyes. ' Small beginnings may be 
 
 K
 
 130 THE PAHIAH 
 
 wonderfully blest,' he said, with pious hopefulness ; ' but it's sad 
 to see a brother forsaking the faith of his forefathers and taking to 
 himself a wife from amongst the Philistines. Not but what there's 
 this much to be thankful for, Mrs. Nutkins, that we're spared from 
 having the latest spring fashions entering into Ebenezer and causing 
 the eyes of our young maidens to offend look at it that way, 
 ma'am ! ' 
 
 ' Ah, you're such a one for making the best o' things, but 
 neither you nor me nor many in Gorsecombe '11 be any the better 
 off for them being here they'll have everything sent down from 
 London they can, and what custom they give '11 go to church folk 
 over chapel, you see if it don't ! ' 
 
 ' Well,' said Mr. Spufford, with a martyr's sigh. ' it will be all 
 made up to us in another world, that is one comfort, Mrs. Nutkins. 
 And now I must be going in to my dinner, if you'll excuse me. 
 Shall I see you at chapel this evening ? ' 
 
 In the kitchen of the Seven Stars set old Mrs. Parkinjear, the 
 landlady, waiting for her granddaughter's return from church. 
 Mrs. Parkinjear was a stout old lady with a brown front and a 
 velvet band across her forehead. At every sound from the back- 
 door she turned in that direction a pair of pale eyes as unspecu- 
 lative in expression as a pair of glass marbles, for the poor old lady 
 was sightless. 
 
 At last there was the noise of the key raising the latch, and 
 steps on the brick floor. 
 
 ' I thought you was never coming, child ; leaving me all this 
 time, and me sitting here in my lonely blindness, thinking of all 
 that was and now is no more. You're never just back from 
 church ? ' 
 
 ' Yes, granny,' said Cassandra ; ' why, it's only twenty to one 
 now, and we're never out much before the half hour.' 
 
 ' Then 'tis time that goes slower to me in my ending days. 
 Did the Vicar preach, dear man ? Ah, time was I used to love to 
 sit and hear his discourses, when I had my eyesight, but that's 
 finished now and I'm finished, too, very near ! Who was at 
 church, Cassandry ? ' 
 
 ' Most everybody that's usually there, granny and oh ! some 
 besides. Mr. Chadwick's new lady up at Agra House him and 
 her was there, with such beautiful-looking young ladies, dressed I 
 couldn't tell you how nice ! And one, the littlest, had the loveliest 
 hair, and the sun shone down on it so bright through the painted 
 winder.' 
 
 ' So there's a family, and pretty, you say ? Dear, dear, and me 
 not able to see it ! The old gentleman that's gone used to look in 
 for a chat with me, many's the time. I liked him, I did, though 
 there wasn't many about these parts that had a good word for him, 
 except it was the Ebenezer folk which he built and erected it out 
 of his own purse, so they had ought to it. I wasn't of his way of 
 thinking, but he was fond of a talk with me. " I have a son out in
 
 COMMENTS AFTER CHURCH 131 
 
 Injia soinewheres," he'd say to me, when I was a-tellin' him all 
 aboiit your uncle Joe and the trouble I'd had with him. " You'll 
 be thinking o' sending for him to be a comfort to your declining 
 years ? " I'd say to him. " No, Mrs. Parkinjear, I shan't," he'd say 
 to me. " I don't rightly know where to send for him, and maybe 
 he wouldn't come if I did. I've treated him harsh in times gone 
 by," he told me, " and it's too late to put it right now ; but when I'm 
 took for death he'll find out as I've done what I could to make it 
 up to him." It was along of some marriage his son had made as 
 the old man didn't hold with. And now here's the son in his place 
 with a boy of his own, and married again to a widder with children 
 of her own ! And all of 'em in church together this very morning. 
 Well, well ! we live in tunes, Cassandry, we do that ! Ah, dear, 
 and this is a world of changes. The young gentleman, now it'll 
 make a sad difference to him. poor thing, his nose being so put out 
 of j'int, vulgarly speaking; with a new mamma and a family when 
 he'd been everybody. They say his father made a deal on him 
 when they were just here alone together.' 
 
 ' He looked not to mind it much, from his face.' said Cassandra. 
 
 ' Didn't he, now ? Well, he'll have playmates now and com- 
 panions, true enough. Postman used to tell me he'd meet him 
 along the lanes, lookin' fit to yawn the head off his shoulders, and 
 no one to go about with but that young Barchard, that isn't fit 
 company for nobody, from all I hear.' 
 
 Over the mid-day dinner at the Vicarage, too, the new arrivals 
 were being discussed : ' Mamma,' said Millicent Orrne, ' you will 
 call on them now, won't you ? I'm sure they're nice ! ' 
 
 Millicent was short, and had none of her brother's good looks, 
 but her plain and rather homely face was saved from being insig- 
 nificant by its animation. In character she was a warm-hearted 
 girl with a large capacity for enthusiasm, and a strong sense of 
 duty. 
 
 ' I suppose we shall have to call,' said Mrs. Orme ; ' but I do 
 hope, Millicent, you will wait a little before you strike up one of 
 your violent friendships.' 
 
 ' But I know I shall like that eldest girl,' persisted Millicent ; 
 ' she is such a lovely person, she came up the aisle like some kind 
 of splendid princess. Papa, didn't you think she was lovely ? ' 
 
 ' Really. Millicent,' Mrs. Orme interposed, ' you seem to forget 
 how your father was engaged this morning ! As if he could pos- 
 sibly allow himself to notice such things during the service ! ' 
 
 'After that,' said the Vicar, with a twinkle of humour in his 
 eye, ' I feel a little difficulty in admitting that I did notice them 
 all. However, such is the scandalous fact, my dear. The only 
 defence I can offer is that they were a few feet in front of me, and 
 that I have been constructed with eyes of average capacity.' 
 
 ' And isn't the eldest girl lovely, papa ? ' 
 
 ' She a struck me as being a very beautiful creature, cer- 
 tainly,' was the reply. ' I trembled for poor Fanshawe's peace of 
 
 Kl
 
 182 THE PARIAH 
 
 mind when I heard how he read the first lesson. He's a suscep- 
 tible youth, even for a curate.' 
 
 ' I don't at all approve of Mr. Fanshawe's proceedings,' said 
 Mrs. Orme ; ' I wish he was a little more serious he really be- 
 haves just like an ordinary young man.' 
 
 ' He is an ordinary young man,' said the Vicar. ' Surely, my 
 dear, you don't consider that the average curate is hedged by any 
 divinity in particular ? Fanshawe's divinity would make rather a 
 scrappy hedge, I'm afraid. Some might say the same of his Vicar's, 
 for that matter.' And the Rev. Cyprian gave a sigh, half comic, 
 half genuine. 
 
 He was a tall, portly man, very handsome still, with silvered 
 hair, which contrasted well with his strong dark eyebrows and 
 clear roseate complexion. He was a little conscious sometimes of 
 not fulfilling the highest ideal of the priestly character, and he was 
 apt to shock some of his parishioners by a manner which was 
 unparsonical, not to say secular. He was clever, and had been 
 cleverer still, indolent and easy-going, with a sense of humour that 
 was occasionally inconvenient. His wife, who was almost exempted 
 from this complaint, was a little exercised at times by his lapses 
 from clerical decorum, though she generally abstained from any 
 direct reproof, preferring to convey it by implication. 
 
 In appearance she was a bright-eyed anxious little woman, who 
 had worried away any good looks she had originally possessed. 
 
 4 I'm sure you preach beautiful sermons, Cyprian,' she said ; 
 4 you know how much all the people like them they go straight 
 home to them, they always say,' 
 
 ' It must be down their throats then,' said the Vicar. 4 1 feel 
 very much as if I were preaching to a congregation of fishes some- 
 times.' 
 
 ' But about this new Mrs. Chadwick, mamma ? ' said Millicent. 
 4 Don't you think this marriage will be an excellent thing ? I do. 
 I never saw anyone so changed as that son of Mr. Chadwick' s. 
 He used to look so dull and heavy and uninterested, and now, in 
 church this morning, he seemed quite bright and happy. It made 
 me like him ever so much better, because some only sons would 
 have taken their father's marriage so very differently.' 
 
 ' So you're making him out a phoenix, too, Millicent, eh ? ' 
 interrupted the Vicar. 
 
 4 Only in that. I used to dislike him very much, and pitied 
 poor Nugent for having to go abroad with him ; but I've got to 
 like him better lately. When you think how little education he 
 has had, he might be so much worse than he is ! ' 
 
 4 He might be a little more picturesque with advantage,' said 
 her father lazily. 4 He's one of those young fellows who always 
 strike one as incomplete without a pen behind his ear. Capital 
 ear for a pen 1 ' 
 
 ' I think you are rather unkind, papa ! ' 
 
 ' It, was quite unintentional, my dear,' said the Vicar. ' I
 
 COMMENTS AFTER CHURCH 133 
 
 assure you I have the highest respect for commerce and everybody 
 connected with it. All I meant was that a boyhood passed in 
 purely mechanical office-work is not, perhaps, the ideal preparation 
 for the life of a country gentleman, which I should say was undeni- 
 able.' 
 
 ' Are you sure that he was a clerk, papa ? ' 
 
 The Vicar chuckled : ' No, Millie, I am not. I have sometimes 
 had a dark suspicion that he was nearer the rank of office-boy. As 
 a matter of fact, I don't know what he was ; at all events it's not 
 of vital importance. He is an addition, numerically, at all events, 
 to Gorsecombe society now. His father isn't a bad fellow in his 
 own way. Sends me a cheque like a man when I appeal for any 
 of my funds. I should say those young ladies will find him a very 
 liberal stepfather, if they go the right way to manage him.' 
 
 In the long oak drawing-room at Hawleigh Court that after- 
 noon, the Chadwick marriage was honoured by being made the 
 subject of conversation. 
 
 One or two privileged neighbours had dropped in about five 
 o'clock ; Mr. Liversedge being among them. The long drawing- 
 room was a very inviting place, particularly just now. The low 
 ceiling with its groining and stalactite-like bosses was almost lost 
 in shadow, and through the latticed and mullioned windows the 
 formal yews, box-trees, and urns on the terrace took the colours of 
 old tapestry against the delicate pink and primrose hues of a spring 
 sunset. 
 
 Joceline Hotham a sunny-faced, yellow-haired girl, who just 
 missed being pretty was presiding at the small tea-table ; Lady 
 Adela, her mother, a large, handsome, rather stupid-looking 
 woman, occupied a couch near the fire, in which situation she could 
 join in the conversation when she felt disposed, and shut her eyes 
 in luxurious wakefulness in the interim. 
 
 ' Tea ? ' Miss Hotham was saying to Mr. Liversedge. ' I 
 haven't given you any cream. Why weren't you at your parish 
 church this morning, please ? ' 
 
 ' Domestic anxiety ? ' he explained hypocritically ; ' work of 
 necessity. You see, one of my sister's canary birds wasn't at all 
 the thing this morning, not at all the thing, and so I stayed at home 
 to keep it company fact, Miss Hotham, I assure you ! ' 
 
 ' If you are a heathen, you need not make a joke of it it's 
 serious. And to-day you really missed something. All the good 
 people of Gorsecombe exciting themselves tremendously and what 
 do you suppose about ? Just because that planter man who has 
 the house with the Indian name just above the village happened to 
 bring his new wife and family to church for the first time. But 
 you ought to have been there.' 
 
 ' Yes, I see now that I have grossly neglected my duties. 1 
 must go and pay my respects to her some time charming woman ! ' 
 
 ' Then you have seen her ? ' said Lady Adela. 
 
 ' Oh ! I know her know her well. Knew her first hiisband,
 
 134 THE PAEIAH 
 
 the Colonel, out in India ; fine fellow he was, too. Left her very 
 fairly off, but she must needs go and burn her fingers with stocks 
 and shares and muddle most of it away. But for that, she'd never 
 have looked at this man.' 
 
 ' AYhat's wrong with the man is he an acquaintance of yours, 
 too ? ' asked Lady Adela. 
 
 ' He was in nay district at one time, and I came across him 
 occasionally. Didn't like him. Some of the planters out there 
 were pleasant fellows enough, but they couldn't stand him he put 
 their backs up when he first came, by siding with the missionaries.' 
 
 ' A very right and proper thing to do in my opinion ! ' said the 
 lady. 
 
 Ah, but that didn't last long, he soon quarrelled with them, 
 and then he was out in the cold. He seemed to change his 
 character altogether after he'd been out a little while ; became a 
 reckless, violent, overbearing sort of fellow who cared for nobody, 
 went regularly to the bad for a time quite a scandal he caused out 
 there. Now he's come into this fortune he's reformed, sown his 
 wild oats (or his wild indigo) and turned respectable.' 
 
 ' And how did this new wife of his come to marry him ? ' 
 
 ' Ah, I can tell you the whole story, as it happens, for I had the 
 honour of bringing it about. If she hadn't known me and been 
 perfectly sure it was all right about the money, she wouldn't have 
 risked it. It was at Trouville we were all at the same hotel there 
 and after what I told her, I saw she was trying to catch either 
 the son for her daughter, or the father for herself; it was much 
 the same to her. And would you believe it, Lady Adela, that man, 
 who owes his domestic felicity to me, is actually huffy still about 
 some ridiculous ryots I found shut up in his factory and had to wig 
 him for ? ' 
 
 ' "Who did you say she was ? ' inquired Lady Adela. 
 
 ' She was a Mrs. Chevening.' 
 
 ' Then that explains it ! ' cried Miss Hotham, starting up 
 excitedly with a sparkle in her blue eyes. ' I was wondering all 
 through the sermon where it was I had seen that eldest girl's face 
 before. She was at school with me. 1 used to admire her so 
 awfully all the girls did but she's improved since then. Mother, 
 couldn't you drive over there some day and take me ? I should so 
 like to see her again ! ' 
 
 ' I see no reason for calling there at all,' said Lady Adela. ' I 
 don't approve of such marriages, and I shall certainly not go out of 
 my way to countenance them.' 
 
 ' And mayn't I ride over just to see her ? ' 
 
 ' Not on any account, Joceliue ; you will probably meet her 
 somewhere, and if you like to recognise her, of course you may. 
 Other people may do as they please about calling, but I shall be 
 very careful not to set the example myself." 
 
 And so, at Hawleigh at least, it was settled that the Chadwicks 
 were not to be taken up a result to which Mr. Liversedge's small
 
 COMMENTS AFTER CHURCH 135 
 
 talk had largely contributed ; though, to balance this, he had in 
 other quarters supplied information which decided the lesser lights 
 of Gorsecombe society that the new mistress of Agra House was 
 not a person they could afford to turn their backs upon. 
 
 To return to the subjects of all these conversations, whom we 
 left walking home through the village in happy ignorance of the 
 discussion their appearance had provoked. 
 
 ' Well, Selina,' said Chadwick grimly, ' we've got that over ; 
 they'll know us next Sunday.' 
 
 ' I thought you had lived in this place some months,' said Mrs. 
 Chadwick, in rather a chagrined tone. 
 
 ' So I have, off and on,' he replied. ' Why ? ' 
 
 ' Only,' she said, ' that you don't seem to know any of the 
 people yet.' 
 
 ' Didn't you see little Prisk, the chemist, come up and speak to 
 me as we went out ? ' he asked ; ' and Jobson, the butcher, touched 
 his hat in the churchyard.' 
 
 ' The chemist ! the butcher ! ' she repeated with a touch of con- 
 tempt ; ' I meant any of the good people. Who were the family 
 who sat in the big pew next to the chancel ? ' 
 
 ' Oh, I know them, of course the Hothams, of Hawleigh, a few 
 miles from here; heavy swells, I can tell you. He's a baronet, and 
 she was an earl's daughter.' 
 
 'You know them; then why didn't they come and speak to 
 you ? ' 
 
 ' I didn't mean know them in that way. I know who they are, 
 that's all. You didn't think they'd condescend to take any notice 
 of me, did you ? Why, they're county people ! ' And he laughed 
 at so extravagant an idea. 
 
 ' No doubt I was very absurd,' said his wife, and bit her lips. 
 Perhaps she had never realised till then the descent she had made ; 
 a horrible fear came upon her that she might find herself con- 
 demned, after all, to a position outside the pale of this dull little 
 village, or, worse still, visited by the least considerable of the in- 
 habitants as a mark of condescension. Was not even the state of 
 aristocratic pauperism in a shabby old house in a London suburb, 
 where she at least enjoyed a certain amount of consideration, better 
 than such a lot as this ? Why had she shut her eyes to such a 
 possibility ? Why had she persuaded herself that her poverty was 
 so intolerable, and that she could both escape it by this marriage 
 and retain all the social advantages that she had always valued ? 
 
 She walked on by the side of the husband whose companionship 
 became every day a greater burden to her. Was his to be the sole 
 society she could expect henceforward ? She shivered at the 
 thought. After all, she reflected this was not a very probable con- 
 tingency ; county society might be exclusive, but in these days even 
 county society would hardly consider it a disqualification to have 
 been an indigo-planter probably a fair proportion of their younger 
 sons were out tea-planting or cattle-ranching now. If the indigo
 
 136 THE PAEIAH 
 
 had been all and then she glanced aside at her husband, with his 
 plebeian features burnt an indelible red by Indian suns, and ren- 
 dered even less distinguished than they might be from the shape 
 and cut of his patchy beard. In his white hat with the black band, 
 his aggressive white waistcoat, his frock coat with the large swing- 
 ing skirts, he seemed out of place in a village. She could not wonder 
 if local magnates were to hold aloof, and yet no, she would not 
 despair ; it was too early to do that at present, and she remembered 
 the movement of startled involuntary admiration of the congrega- 
 tion as her children passed down the aisle. It was only a question 
 of waiting she must conquer in the end. 
 
 ' Hennie, dear," said Ida to Miss Henderson, as they walked a 
 few paces behind, ' I think I shall love going to church here ; shan't 
 you ? ' For Miss Henderson had been induced to remain for the 
 present at an increased salary, and Ida was overcome with gratitude 
 for such devoted attachment. 
 
 Miss Henderson sighed ; ' We shall at all events be able to look 
 forward to one or two sweet peaceful hours in each week, when 
 the strain will be relaxed for a time ; ves, Ida, no one can rob us of 
 that ! ' 
 
 No one, it is true, had shown any intention of wishing to do so, 
 but that trifling fact did not in Ida's eyes affect the beauty of the 
 sentiment. 
 
 ' How brave you are, Hennie ; I wonder what I should do 
 without you ! ' 
 
 ' Poor child ! it is harder for you than any of them ; you are 
 such a sensitive darling. They may part us yet but there, we 
 won't meet troubles half way. It is a dear church, and what a nice 
 voice that curate had who read the first lesson ! ' 
 
 ' Yes ; he had nice eyes, too, Hennie, didn't you think ? and he 
 read beautifully, if he hadn't lost the place so often.' 
 
 And they continued the conversation in a confidential tone, 
 perhaps from a fear lest it might reach Margot's ears, for Miss 
 Chevening was apt to be rather contemptuous of this kind of 
 talk. 
 
 They were safe enough, however, for she was at a considerable 
 distance in the rear with Lettice and Allen. 
 
 ' Do you know, Margot,' said Lettice, ' I don't think they're at 
 all polite people in this village they stared so dreadfully I ' 
 
 ' You should have stared at them back,' said Allen. 
 
 ' Then I should have been rude, too. I did stare at the monu- 
 ments, though. Such a lot of Hothams, Margot, did you notice ? ' 
 
 Margot came out of her reverie with a start. ' The Hothams 1 
 "What do you know about the Hothams, Lettie ? ' 
 
 ' Nothing they seemed to be mostly dead, and they had all the 
 biggest tablets, that's all ! ' 
 
 1 Oh, are they though ? ' said Allen ; ' that was Sir Everard and 
 Lady Adela, and their daughters, in that pew opposite the big 
 square one.'
 
 COMMENTS AFTER CHURCH 137 
 
 ' I should have thought they'd be in black with so many deaths 
 in the family,' said Lettice. ' Oh, look, Margot ! there they are in 
 the carriage it's a nicer one than Aunt Gwendolen's. Why don't 
 you look, Margot ? You're turning your head the other way I ' 
 
 ' You're forgetting your own rule about it being rude to stare, 
 darling,' said Margot, with a faint smile. 
 
 ' These swells are used to it,' said Allen ; ' they come out to be 
 stared at don't you know that ? ' 
 
 ' You forget,' she said, with a fine irony. ' How should I know 
 what such people are like ? ' 
 
 ' Well, I don't know much about 'em myself,' he confessed. 
 
 ' Then, if I were you, I don't think I should talk about them.' 
 
 ' You do come down on a chap,' he said, laughing. ' I can't 
 open my mouth.' 
 
 ' That's a story ! ' said Lettice, looking up at him critically ; 
 * you are opening it now quite wide.' 
 
 ' Little girls should be seen and not heard,' he said. 
 
 ' Great boys,' retorted Lettice, ' shouldn't be heard or seen when 
 they're like you. Margot and I want to talk, don't we dear ? We 
 don't want you.' 
 
 ' Oh, come,' he said, ' you're not going to make me walk by my- 
 self? I didn't begin it !' 
 
 Lettice had a great idea of fairness. ' I think I did begin it 
 perhaps,' she admitted. ' I suppose you can't help laughing like 
 that. I don't mind your staying, if Margot doesn't.' 
 
 ' I may walk with you, Margot ; you've no objection, have 
 you? ' 
 
 Margot was in an absent mood again. ' Oh, no,' she said, re- 
 calling her thoughts with an effort, ' of course you can walk with us 
 if you want to why not ? ' 
 
 Her thoughts were a little bitter just then ; she had recognised 
 Joceline Hotham in church, and had believed that, in spite of the 
 calm stare her old schoolfellow had given her, the recognition was 
 mutual. Under other circumstances she would not have cared ; as 
 it was, she was convinced that it was on account of her mother's 
 change of name that Joceline did not come forward to speak to 
 her, though she forgot that she had been careful to avoid giving her 
 the opportunity. She felt degraded in her own estimation, and 
 shrank with an exaggerated unwillingness from facing one who had 
 known her in the days when she had been serenely conscious of 
 being the daughter of a gallant and distinguished officer, with no 
 relations in the world of whom she had reason to be anything but 
 proud. That was her father, now the coarsely-made, unpolished 
 man walking up the street ahead. This mean-looking youth at her 
 side was her brother ! How could she present them to Joceline ? 
 ' It's not snobbish,' she thought, ' to be ashamed, for how can I be 
 anything else ? '
 
 138 THE PAKIAH 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 ATTEMPTS TO MANUFACTURE A SILK PURS. 
 
 If doughty deeds my lady please, 
 Eight soon I'll mount my steed ; 
 And strong his arm, and fast his seat 
 That bears frae me the meed. 
 
 Graham of Gartmore. 
 
 MRS. CHADWICK'S most dismal anticipations were not realised. 
 Before she had been long at Gorsecombe, not only had the principal 
 residents either called or left cards, but she had been recognised by 
 more than one of the county families in the neighbourhood. 
 
 Mrs. Orme and Millicent were the first to set the example, as in 
 duty bound. Mrs. Orme, who, as some clergymen's wives wili, 
 considered the formal recognition of the Vicarage no ordinary mark 
 of distinction in any case, and in this, a favour denoting some liber- 
 ality of views, was promptly made aware that the lady of Agra 
 House had no intention of being patronised. 
 
 She was impressed by the signs of taste and well- directed wealth 
 in the room she was shown into : she had expected the interior to 
 be crude and barbaric, in harmony with the pompous ugliness 
 without. Mrs. Chadwick's manner, too, made her feel herself 
 almost provincial ; involuntarily she found herself taking far more 
 pains to establish an intimacy than she had ever intended to do on 
 a first acquaintance. 
 
 Millicent, left to make overtures of friendship to Miss Cheven- 
 ing, thought her even more beautiful than she had on that first 
 Sunday. How perfectly she was dressed, in that dark, close-fitting 
 blue gown, with the loose folds of cool creamy stuff at her waist, 
 and how lovely her hands were as they lay in her lap or hovered 
 over the cups ! ' Like the hands of that portrait of Romney's at 
 Hawleigh Court,' thought Milliceut, admiring her quite unre- 
 servedly and disinterestedly, as some girls though by no means 
 all are capable of admiring beauty in their own sex. 
 
 ' I hope,' she began, a little timidly, ' you begin to like Gorse- 
 combe a little ; we think it so pleasant.' 
 
 (' Mr. Orme's sister," Margot was thinking ; ' not at all like 
 him.') 'It is a pretty village,' she said, ' but of course we don't 
 know any of the people yet.' 
 
 ' Would you like to know some of them ? ' said Millicent, won- 
 dering whether she ought to be so eager ; ' because they will call, of 
 course but but if you would come to the Vicarage next Saturday 
 you would meet some. Perhaps you don't care for tennis, 
 though ? ' 
 
 ' Oh, but I do,' said Margot ; 'I should like to come, very much. 
 I suppose you are great players ? '
 
 ATTE3TPTS TO MANUFACTURE A -SILK PIIESE 139 
 
 'I'm not much use at it, but my brother Nugent is thought 
 rather good, I believe.' 
 
 ' I think I have met your brother at Trouville,' said Margot ; 
 ' he was there last autumn, was he not ? ' 
 
 ' Yes ; how curious that you should have met him ; I'm so 
 glad ! ' cried Millicent, and feared she had been too gushing ; she 
 was wondering what Miss Chevening had thought of her brother, 
 and whether he had been able to help falling in love with her. ' 1 
 should, if I were he,' she told herself. 
 
 The hazel eyes betrayed nothing more than a friendly interest 
 as Miss Chevening asked, ' Is he staying with you now ? ' 
 
 ' Oh, no, poor boy, he is up in town working hard he so seldom 
 gets away from his chambers ; he may take a few days at "Whitsun- 
 tide. I am very proud of my brother,' added Millicent. 
 
 At this moment the door opened roughly and a head was thrust 
 
 in. 'I say, Margot,' said Allen's voice, 'have you seen ' and 
 
 then he turned red. ' Oh, I wasn't aware you had company ex- 
 cuse me ! ' And the door shut again. 
 
 ' I can quite understand your feelings, Miss Orme, 1 said Margot, 
 as Allen vanished. ' That was my stepbrother ; he always has that 
 quiet, distinguished manner.' 
 
 She looked so innocently calm as she made this remark, that 
 Millicent was almost afraid to accept it as ironical. ' I know him 
 a little,' she said ; ' he used to come to the Vicarage now and then. 
 He found everything a little strange at first, and I'm afriid we 
 made him feel rather shy. I am sorry he is very good-natured.' 
 
 ' You are very good-natured,' said Margot, a little ashamed oi 
 herself. ' I wish I could be. I ought not to have spoken like that, 
 but I can't help it always. You see,' she added, ' I am showing the 
 worst of myself.' 
 
 ' If that is your worst ! ' protested Milicent, ' I I am not much 
 afraid. And, oh, I should like to have you for a friend so much 
 if you will let me ? ' 
 
 There was an enthusiastic admiration in her eyes which quite 
 won Miss Chevening's already yielding heart. ' I shall be very 
 glad,' she said simply. ' I have no friends here.' And Millicent 
 went back to the Vicarage enraptured with her new friend and de- 
 voted to her service heart and soul. 
 
 Mrs. Eddlestone called, too, having stolen a march upon Miss 
 Moruber ; she appeared one afternoon with her three daughters. 
 ' We're such near neighbours,' she began in her high voice, ' I've 
 been saying to my girls every day, " Now we really must go over 
 and call on the Chadwicks ! " but there are so many things to do in 
 the country, and this is absolutely the first opportunity we've had. 
 And how do you like Gorsecombe '? We're very cheery people here, 
 I can assure you. These are my girls Dottie, Pussie, and Fay 
 young people, you see, like your own, and ready for anything in the 
 way of amusement. I'm very often told that Gorsecombe would 
 go qitite to sleep if Holly Bank were to let, and there really is a
 
 140 THE PAEIAH 
 
 little truth in it we do contrive to keep our spirits up. I some- 
 times really have to beg for a little peace and quietness myself ! ' 
 
 The Eddlestone girls were rather unfortunate instances of the 
 inconveniences of retaining a superannuated pet name, Pussy being 
 thin with large extremities, Dottie tall and gaunt, and Fay alone 
 plump. They all three took possession of Margot, and overwhelmed 
 laer with questions and descriptions, without requiring her to take 
 any active part ha the conversation, in which they gave evidence of 
 strong animal spirits and the heartiest mutual admiration. ' Do you 
 recite, dear Miss Chevening ? I hope you do. No ? really ! then 
 you must come and hear Fay ; some people say they like her better 
 than Clifford Harrison, and she never even heard him ! ' 
 
 ' You musn't believe all Pussie says, dear Miss Chevening,' said 
 Fay. ' I know I recite abominably now, Pussie is a poet. Mr. 
 Callembore took a piece of hers for Tennyson once. Pussie's the 
 genius of the family, though Dottie is a born artist : she sketches 
 BO quickly such facility, you know, and she never had any lessons! ' 
 
 ' I'm sure you paint,' said Dottie. ' I shall be ashamed to let 
 you see rny daubs ; but you must come out sketching with me as 
 soon as it gets warmer.' 
 
 ' Now,' said Fay, ' do tell me whom you know as yet, and we'll 
 tell you what everybody's like. Have the Callembores called ? 
 They're going to, I know. He's considered so amusing, no one 
 ever gives a dinner-party without asking them : as for her, she sits 
 and smiles, but she doesn't sparkle. Not like Mrs. Megginson ; 
 she's great fun, with a husband just like a dissipated white mouse. 
 Then there's the Admiral do you know the dear Admiral ? You 
 must know the Admiral such a delightful, noisy old love ! And 
 Mr. Powles, haven't you noticed Mr. Powles ? with a face like a 
 Death's head when he wears a white tie, it looks exactly like the 
 cross-bones,' and so on, and so on, until the roll of residents was 
 exhausted. 
 
 ' At all events,' said Margot, with a weary little shrug, when 
 they had gone, ' we shall not be dull. Do they ever leave off talking, 
 I wonder ? ' 
 
 ' They are a little overpowering, certainly,' said her mother, 
 ' but they will be useful people to know.' 
 
 And through Holly Bank and the Vicarage, and visits arising 
 from meetings at these places, the Chadwicks gradually became 
 admitted into Gorsecombe society, though Chadwick was rather 
 tolerated on his wife's account than welcomed on his own. 
 
 He did not seem to be aware of this, however. These Gorse- 
 combe people were beginning to find out, he thought, that he was 
 worth cultivating ; he could get along without them now, but if they 
 liked to be civil to him, why, he was willing to meet them half way. 
 So he came into the drawing-room at tunes when callers were there 
 and did his best to be agreeable, though his efforts made his wife 
 shiver occasionally ; he drove with her to return visits, and was 
 risibly elated by invitations to dinner.
 
 ATTEMPTS TO MANUFACTURE A SILK PURSE 141 
 
 There was one point on which he occasionally showed himself a 
 little intractable : he was disposed to resent the way in which his 
 son was eclipsed by his step -daughters. ' Why do they leave Allen 
 out of their invites ? ' he would say to his wife ; ' there's little notes 
 always coming in from the Vicarage or Holly Bank and such places, 
 asking will Margot, or Margot and Ida, or all three and the gover- 
 ness, come in for lawn tennis, or afternoon tea, or what not but 
 I never hear of their asking Allen. "What's he done to be left 
 out?' 
 
 ' Why, my dear Joshua, the truth is Allen is just a little in- 
 clined to keep himself in the background he doesn't seem quite 
 at home with the people here, and they conclude, of course, that he 
 would prefer not to be asked.' 
 
 4 He must come out of the background, then,' said his father ; 
 ' he's a good lad enough, he only wants a little encouragement to 
 hold his own with the best of them.' 
 
 ' I'm afraid,' sighed Mrs. Chadwick, 'he doesn't do himself quite 
 justice that unfortunate manner of his ! ' 
 
 ' What's wrong with his manner ? I don't see much amiss 
 with it myself. Shy ? All young fellows who are not puppies are 
 shy. You can't expect a young fellow brought up as he's been to 
 take to this sort of life all at once. If your girls chose, they could 
 soon put him in the way of behaving like other people they don't 
 find any difficulty in it themselves, apparently.' 
 
 ' They have always been considered to have rather good man- 
 ners,' said Mrs. Chadwick. ' It is not quite a new experience for 
 them, you see.' 
 
 ' Well,' concluded Chadwick, ' I must give him a talking to, 
 that's all ; I can't have my son left out in the cold. He must do 
 like other young fellows in his position.' 
 
 But if Allen was left unnoticed by Gorsecombe, he was con- 
 tented enough ; he was under the same roof with Margot, he saw 
 her every day, and could even address her by her Christian name 
 without fearing a rebuke. She was not ungracious to him, too, in 
 her careless fashion ; habit was doing its usual work, and she sub- 
 mitted to the necessity of listening and replying to his remarks 
 without open impatience, even though her inward repulsion was as 
 deep as ever, and she was not really more reconciled to being so 
 nearly related to one at whom she even avoided looking unless 
 absolutely compelled. 
 
 And though Ida took far less trouble to hide her feelings, and 
 Allen's sentiments for her were not cordial, he had succeeded at 
 last in recommending himself to Lettice's favour. Yarrow had 
 acted as the mediator between them. ' It's funny that Margot's 
 dog should be so fond of you,' she told him candidly, and then 
 added with a gleam of tact, ' at least, I mean because he doesn't 
 generally make friends with anybody all at once, you know ; but if 
 he likes you, I suppose I must.* 
 
 It was rather a patronising form of liking, it must be confessed,
 
 142 THE PARIAH 
 
 such as Lettice might have bestowed upon a gardener's boy, or a 
 Btable-help, but Allen was not particular. 
 
 He felt his own inferiority deeply, in spite of spasmodic and 
 rather pathetic attempts to assert hircself. Next to Margot who 
 seemed to him a being infinitely far removed and to be worshipped 
 in secret under pain of arousing her displeasure this little sister 
 of hers held the next place in his heart, with her quaint alternations 
 of dignity and fun, and her pretty chatter like the trilling of some 
 voluble small bird. He did her bidding humbly, although he ven- 
 tured to adopt a more familiar and brotherly manner towards her, 
 and Lettice occasionally criticised his shortcomings with a freedom 
 which he took in perfect good part. ' I suppose,' she said to him 
 meditatively one day, when he was assisting her in some gardening 
 operations, ' you never had any governess when you were little ? ' 
 
 ' Me ? ' said Allen, with his spluttering laugh, ' not much ; 
 why?' 
 
 ' Only because you won't mind my telling you, will you ? she 
 would have taught you how to eat differently. You do make 
 well, rather a noise, you know, and then you eat so very fast. I 
 had to be told how myself ! ' she added considerately. 
 
 ' I never thought how I eat before. I say, Lettie, does does 
 Margot ever say anything about it ? ' 
 
 ' Margot ? oh look, isn't that one of those horrid little green 
 atheists on that stalk ? No, it's too early for them yet, isn't it ? 
 No, Margot doesn't ; mother does sometimes, so I thought I'd speak 
 to you myself. I was sure it was only because you didn't know 
 there, that's enough water for those things I I'll race you to the 
 monkey-tree ! ' 
 
 Unfortunately the result of these well-meant monitions was 
 only to make him more self-conscious at meals than ever ; his step- 
 mother's expression was very eloquent at times, but she made no 
 remark until one day, when some gaucherie of his at luncheon had 
 provoked even his father, whose watchfulness had been aroused by 
 private complaints, to make a comment. ' I did not like to speak 
 before,' she said, ' but really, with every disposition to make allow- 
 ances, I think we might expect some regard to be shown to the 
 ordinary rules of behaviour. It isn't much to ask from you, Allen ! ' 
 
 ' I I did it without thinking,' he said. ' I am sure I ask your 
 pardon.' 
 
 Mrs. Chevening gave a resigned little sigh; Margot kept her 
 eyes on the table, and Lettice alone looked at the culprit with 
 serious eyes, and her cheeks sympathetically flushed. 
 
 'If you can't understand that you're sitting at a gentleman's 
 table,' said his father, ' the best tiling you can do is to leave it.' 
 
 His father had never before seen anything amiss with his man- 
 ners, thought Allen, as he rose with a vague impression that it was 
 required of him. 'Don't send him away this time,' pleaded Let- 
 tice, ' he does mean to behave nicely ! ' 
 
 ' J don't want him to go so long as he minds his manners,' said
 
 ATTEMPTS TO MANUFACTURE A SILK PURSE 143 
 
 Chadwick gruffly ; ' sit down, Allen, and don't make a fool of your- 
 selfd'ye hear ? ' 
 
 He sat down with a fiery face and a swelling of his heart. He 
 felt disgraced in Margot's eyes as she sat there with her air of being 
 aloof from it all ; even Lettice's intercession had hurt him, some- 
 how, though he was grateful for her good intentions. 
 
 This incident, trivial as it was, had the effect of opening Chad- 
 wick's eyes more clearly to his son's defects. His wife was careful 
 to keep them before him without appearing to show more than a 
 motherly solicitude, and they began to worry him at last. Still the 
 fatherly instinct within him, which had slumbered so many years 
 and had been quickened by his son's admiring and dutiful attitude 
 on their first acquaintance, made him fertile in excuses and plans. 
 
 ' People down here won't trouble about his being a bit rough, 
 he would say ; ' and he']l soon get over that, with a little looking 
 after. He'll do very well if he takes to sport, and he's young enough 
 still to make himself good at that sort of thing. I must see that 
 he keeps up his riding.' 
 
 And one day at breakfast he said suddenly : ' I suppose you feel 
 pretty comfortable in the saddle now, eh, Allen ? ' 
 
 ' I haven't ridden since we've all been here together,' said 
 Allen. 
 
 ' I know that ; I meant to ride with you myself, but I've had 
 other things to think about ; but when you did ride, you were all 
 right, eh ? ' 
 
 ' Pretty well,' said Allen, conscious of some exaggeration, even 
 in this. 
 
 ' Ah, you can't ride the new carriage horses, you know, and I 
 want my own cob myself, so I shall have to see about getting a 
 horse for you well, can't you say something ? ' 
 
 ' Thanks, father.' 
 
 ' And you must learn to stick on it. I want you to follow the 
 hounds next season. I'm too old to take to it myself, so there's 
 more reason you should do it for me that's the way you'll have 
 to make your friends.' 
 
 Allen heard with a certain pleasurable excitement ; he had 
 ridden very seldom, and the sober old carriage-horse that carried 
 him had spared him any unpleasant experiences. He thought it 
 would be a fine thing to have a horse of his own and hunt when 
 the winter came, as if he had been a country gentleman all his 
 life perhaps Margot would look on him then with greater respect ! 
 
 Chadwick lost no time in fulfilling his promise by going up to 
 Tattersall's and selecting a horse a handsome, powerful beast with 
 excellent manners, which could be trusted to carry Allen. After 
 trying it himself he rode out daily with Allen, who did his best to 
 perfect his horsemanship. Unfortunately, he might conceivably 
 have had a better riding-master; for, though Chadwick had of 
 necessity ridden constantly in India, and had a firm enough seat, 
 he found it difficult to communicate his method, except by advising
 
 144 THE PAEIAH 
 
 his son to stick on and not let his horse get the better of him rules 
 which, after all, rather beg the question at issue. 
 
 However, the new horse went well enough, and he was not 
 observant enough to see that Allen had no real notion of controlling 
 him, and was only fortified by his father's presence. ' Plenty of 
 action ! ' Chadwick would say complacently ; ' you're getting on 
 terms with him already, and there are not many young fellows 
 about here better mounted, I can tell you cost me a pretty penny, 
 Hussar did. Steady, horse. Lost your stirrups, eh ? that's nothing 
 you must learn to do without 'em, you'll shake down right enough.' 
 
 In a somewhat different sense, Allen thought this only too pro- 
 bable ; but in his anxiety to satisfy his father he did not dare to 
 betray by words how extremely precarious he felt his tenure of the 
 saddle to be, and, thanks to the forbearance of Hussar, who was 
 quite aware that he was under close supervision, he avoided any 
 actual mischance. 
 
 And Chadwick, naturally anxious to feel proud of his son, did 
 not need much encouragement to make him so ; he began to make 
 little half-jocular, half-boasting allusions to Allen's riding to persons 
 he happened to be talking with. ' Oh,' he would say, ' there aren't 
 many places round here we don't know by this time, my son and I. 
 We ride a good deal every day, wet or fine. It's not so much on 
 my own account as his, the young rascal getting qiiite the jockey, 
 ha, ha ! ' Or he would say to some member of the hunt after 
 dinner : ' No, I shan't come out myself next autumn ; never went 
 in for pig-sticking or polo or a run after jackal out in Bengal, had 
 too much to do all that has come in since my time. But there's 
 my son, he'll represent me ; and, between ourselves, I don't fancy 
 I shall be ashamed of him across country by the time he's had a 
 little more practice.' And his hearer, if he had chanced to observe 
 Allen on horseback, would do his best to control his countenance 
 and reply with a civil hope that they would see young Mr. Chad- 
 wick in the hunting-field before very long. 
 
 It flattered the father's vanity to dwell upon this event, which 
 he chose to consider as in the near future. 
 
 ' I've been telling Topham ' (Topham was the coachman) he 
 said one day, ' that it's time he put up a hurdle or two in the 
 paddock and saw you take Hussar over them do you more good 
 than anything, you know, a few falls will. But Topham thinks we 
 had better wait till the ground's a bit softer again. This hard, dry 
 spell can't last long, unless I've forgotten what an English May is 
 like.' 
 
 Allen was relieved at any postponement, and as his father was 
 much occupied soon after Avith business affairs and Topham by no 
 means cared to be responsible for his young master's safety across 
 hurdles, the matter was allowed to drop. One morning, when the 
 stable-boy brought round the horses as usual, and Allen stood on 
 the steps waiting for his father, Chadwick called to him from the 
 window of his study.
 
 ATTEMPTS TO MANUFACTURE A SILK PURSE 145 
 
 ' I can't go out this morning, my boy, too much to attend to, so 
 you must manage on Hussar alone for to-day.' 
 
 ' Mayn't I have Topham, or the boy, to go with me ? ' 
 
 ' No, you mayn't ; your mother wants the carriage after lunch, 
 and the boy's got his own work. You must learn to get on by 
 yourself; gives you confidence. There, tumble up, and be off 
 you'll be all right.' 
 
 Allen did not dare to protest. He mounted, and Hussar went off 
 down the drive with one or two puzzled glances behind for the cob, 
 which he seemed to miss. 
 
 Of course the horse was not long in realising the situation, and 
 in taking advantage of it. He swung leisurely along, with an 
 offensive assumption of not being obliged to hurry ; he stopped and 
 looked over gates with new-born interest in scenery, and showed 
 an eccentric preference for the side-path ; he pricked his ears in 
 mock nervousness at every striking object in the road, and broke 
 into capricious trots or sidelong ambles ; it was creditable to him 
 that he did not do much more than this, but, as it was, he gave 
 Allen quite enough trouble. It was a warm day, and he felt help- 
 less and hot and miserable, at the mercy of this headstrong beast. 
 But for his fear of his father, he would gladly have turned his head 
 homeward ; but on he jogged jerkily over the road, which steamed 
 and glittered under a May sun. He could almost have wished 
 himself back in the dingy city office again, as he was that time 
 last year ; but no, that was the same as wishing that Margot and 
 Lettice, and this new, luxurious, strangely troubling existence 
 could be blotted out. He did not mean that, of course. He must 
 keep up his pluck ; Margot liked a chap to have a good pluck, he 
 wasn't going to own himself a coward before her ; and he hit 
 Hussar across the shoulders and jerked the curb, which caused the 
 animal to toss his head and snort indignantly. At that moment a 
 farmer's cart turned sharp round the corner with something jingling 
 under the seat, and Hussar, his nerves really fretted at last, broke 
 into a canter which became a gallop, though not at any time an 
 absolute bolt. Fortunately he was not difficult to sit at any pace, 
 or poor Allen would soon have been in the road ; but he had lost all 
 control over him, and was just giving himself up for lost, when the 
 horse, having had enough of it, slackened of his own accord, until 
 he returned to his former fidgety walk. 
 
 Considerably exhausted and demoralised by all this, Allen sat 
 limply in his saddle with a dismal conviction that with one more 
 such escapade on Hussar's part they would part company, and it 
 would take little enough to startle him now. He could not make 
 up his mind to dismount, especially as Hussar would not stand, and 
 BO he went on under the branching elms, through whose budding 
 branches the sun struck in iridescent rays which seemed to irritate 
 Hussar still further. 
 
 Suddenly, at another turn of the road, he saw a figure he knew 
 approaching. 
 
 i
 
 146 THE PARIAH 
 
 ' Bob,' he called, ' Bob Barchard ! ' 
 
 It was a young fellow about his own age, with sandy hair and 
 a freckled white face, with something at once impudent and cunning 
 in the small sunken eyes. As he heard himself called, he quickened 
 his step and came up. ' So, then, you are on yer cockhorse ! ' he 
 said with a cool smile ; 'it's fine to be you ! ' 
 
 ' Is it ? ' said Allen, with an oath. ' I've had a nice business of 
 it with this beast, I can tell you, Bob ; he's run away with me 
 once.' 
 
 ' I thought it was queer-like, you stopping to speak to such as 
 me," said Bob, 'you've got among such fine folk now but that 
 accounts for it. Fact is,' he said, looking at the horse, ' you ain't 
 up to managing a horse like that ; he's a beauty, he is, but you 
 never ought to come out alone on him. Why, I'd make that horse 
 go as quiet ! ' 
 
 'I wish you were on him instead of me, then,' said Allen. 
 ' Can you ride, Bob ? ' 
 
 ' Me ride ? ' said Bob, ' why, I've rode since I was that high. 
 They let me exercise the animals up at Lane's farm when they're 
 short of men there ain't anything I'd mind getting on ? ' 
 
 ' Would you like to try Hussar for a bit ? ' suggested Allen, with 
 a sudden desperate hope. Barchard laughed in his face. ' We're 
 uncommon good-natured this morning,' he said, ' you're sure you 
 can spare him ? No, thank 'ee, I won't deprive you ! ' 
 
 ' Bob,' said Allen, ' this brute '11 have me off, I know he will, 
 Do me a good turn, and lead him back till we get near the village.' 
 
 ' Can't be bothered leading a horse,' said Bob ; ' it was ride him 
 just now, I thought.' 
 
 ' Ride him back, then I can walk.' 
 
 Bob grinned. ' You've been flustering him a bit,' he said, ' he'll 
 take some riding, the way he is likely he'll try it on with me. 
 Howsoever, I'll oblige you, if I risk my own neck doing it. We 
 were pals once ! ' 
 
 Bob's indifference had been only feigned ; he would have given 
 one of his fingers to be in the saddle on that mettlesome hunter, 
 and only his inbred shrewdness had kept him from closing with the 
 offer at once. He was the son of a local decorator and plumber, 
 a well-to-do man who allowed him to do much as he liked, and 
 Bob's reputation in Gorsecombe and the surrounding villages was 
 none of the best. He was about Allen's age, but the rustic youth 
 was more than a match for the other in knowledge of the world, 
 and during the months in which Allen had been left alone at Agra 
 House, had managed to make his acquaintance, and obtain a 
 certain ascendency over him. 
 
 And the next moment he was on Hussar, and Allen, in whom 
 an immense relief was struggling with a certain shame, was 
 walking along the road at his side. ' Now, you see how he goes 
 with me,' said young Barchard; 'I'll come back.' And, striking 
 his heel against Hussar's side, he cantered off. How easy it looked,
 
 ATTEMPTS TO MANUFACTURE A SILK PURSE 147 
 
 thought poor dismounted Allen, why couldn't he make the horse 
 obey him like that ? For Bob had not exaggerated ; he had a fair 
 seat, and firm if not very light hands, which Hussar appreciated 
 the more by contrast. 
 
 Presently he came back at a gallop, and reined up with a lurking 
 grin on his face. ' Here's a go,' he said, ' I saw your father's 
 carriage coming along oh, they ain't near yet. I thought I'd 
 better give you the friendly tip ? ' 
 
 Allen turned pale. ' Did they see you ? ' he said. ' Here, Bob, 
 I must get on again there's no help for it.' But Bob did not 
 mean to yield possession just yet. ' No time for that ! ' he said. 
 ' We're about the same size and colour, I reckon chuck me that 
 cap of yours and take mine quick ! they'll be round the bend 
 that's it ; now you slip down by the bridge, and lay low till they're 
 by, and I'll trot on smart and turn my head t'other way they 
 won't notice ! ' 
 
 The road made a sharp bend to the left just there, crossing a 
 bridge over the railway ; to the right was a lane as wide as the road 
 which sloped down to the level of the line. Bob was off on Hussar 
 as he spoke, and Allen had no choice but to follow his advice : he 
 got behind the brick parapet and waited with a beating heart. He 
 was ashamed of his weakness ; and yet, as he told himself sullenly, 
 it was all very well was it his fault that he could not manage the 
 horse ? Was he bound to let his neck be broken, as it might have 
 been, but for Bob ? Only what would be thought of him, if it was 
 known ? Perhaps, even now, his step-mother was stopping the 
 carriage, misled by appearances ! What a time the wheels were in 
 coming ! at last, that was the carriage ! and from the upper level 
 he heard the trot of horses and the soft splutter of wheels on the 
 muddy road pass and die away in the distance towards Closeborougli 
 the danger was past ! 
 
 He came out and soon rejoined Barchard. ' All right,' he 
 heard him shout , ' I went by in a flash like, and shoved the cap 
 well down over my eyes they never spotted 'twarn't you, I'll go 
 bail!' 
 
 And so they went on till they were near the gates, ' I've taken 
 the freshness out of him for you,' said the disinterested Bob, ' you'll 
 be equal to sitting him up the drive. You'd never ha' got him 
 home without you'd met me. If you're going out this way again, 
 you'd better let rne know.' 
 
 ' I shan't go out this way again, if I know it ! ' said Allen, and 
 he meant it. 
 
 ' Why,' said his father, as he met him on his return, ' you are 
 late, old boy I I began to think something was the matter ; but 
 then, I might have known you could be trusted to look after 
 yourself. Why, you've had a good hard ride, I can see. Famous ! 
 Did you meet the carriage ? Your mother had lunch early and 
 drove over to Closeborough.' 
 
 ' I know,' said Allen, ' they passed us.' 
 
 fcl
 
 148 THE PARIAH 
 
 ' And you've had a good tittup, eh ? ' 
 
 1 Yes,' said the miserable Allen, ' I've had a good tittup. 1 
 
 If he could but have owned the real truth but he was afraid ; 
 
 next time his father would go out with him, Hussar would behave 
 
 better, he could never again place himself in such a predicament ; 
 
 why should he expose himself unnecessarily ? It was so easy to say 
 
 nothing, and make good resolutions for the future. 
 
 CHAPTEE III. 
 
 CARE AND THE HORSEMAN. 
 
 He knows a baseness in his blood 
 
 At such strange war with something good ; 
 
 He cannot do the thing he would ! 
 
 The Two Voices. 
 
 IT was the evening of the day which witnessed Allen's humiliating 
 experience on Hussar, and, after lingering as long over dressing as 
 he could for he shrank from meeting his step-mother, who might 
 for all he could tell have seen through Bob's disguise he entered 
 the drawing-room. He was always a little awed on these occasions ; 
 the softened light, the delicate fragrance of the azaleas, the luxury 
 of the room were still new and strange to him, and produced a cer- 
 tain sense of being an intruder the old painful feeling of inferiority 
 to the others, who seemed to harmonise so well with their surround- 
 ings. They were all there : Ida and Miss Henderson playing 
 ' Reversi ' under the lamp by one of the windows ; Margot acting as 
 consulting milliner to Lettice, who was dressing a doll ; Mrs. Chad- 
 wick in a low chair by the fire-place, where Chadwick stood in 
 expansive ungainliness. ' Come in,' he cried with his great harsh 
 laugh ; ' don't stand there, looking like a dog in a chapel. We've 
 been hearing about you, master, your ears ought to have been 
 tingling ! ' 
 
 ' Did they tingle, Allen ? ' inquired Lettice with interest ; ' is 
 that why they're so red ? ' 
 
 ' About me ? ' he replied to his father, giving himself up for 
 denounced, but yet relieved, too, that Chadwick seemed far from 
 angry. 
 
 ' Ah, your mother ' (he sometimes spoke of her in this manner) 
 1 has been saying how well you were riding this afternoon when 
 you passed the carriage.' 
 
 Allen looked at her half imploringly ; but there was no malice 
 or irony in her bland smile. Then he remembered that Bob was 
 wearing a suit of about the same hue as his own, and, with the 
 change of headgear, might easily pass a casual inspection. 
 
 ' I shouldn't have known it was you, but for Hussar,' Lettice 
 chimed in, ' and you never looked at us once, Allen ! '
 
 CAEE AND THE HORSEMAN 149 
 
 ' Don't tease, Lettice,' said her mother ; ' but another time, dear 
 boy, I must just hint that even relations expect a bow in passing 
 like that you didn't think of it, and really, Joshua, I was quite 
 pleased to see how well he sat his horse ; you must have taken 
 great pains with him ! ' 
 
 ' I thought you were riding very well, Allen,' added Margot, 
 quite sincerely, from an impulse rare, it must be owned, with her 
 to conquer her own prejudices when he deserved credit. His 
 father appeared to resent her remark for some reason. 
 
 ' Eides well,' he said, glowering at her. ' Of course he rides 
 well ! I wouldn't give much for him if he couldn't stick on a horse 
 like Hussar by this time ; but what you know about it, one way or 
 the other, is beyond me, young lady ! ' 
 
 ' I should have thought,' said Miss Chevening, with a touch of 
 haughtiness, ' that it was easy enough to tell, even in a passing 
 glimpse, whether a person has a good seat or not. I do claim so 
 much.' 
 
 ' Margot really has some right to an opinion, Joshua,' put in 
 her mother. ' She rides extremely well herself; her father taught 
 her when she was quite small, and, as long as I could afford it, she 
 rode constantly.' 
 
 ' Ah, well,' said Chadwick, ' Margot can do everything, it appears. 
 I suppose the next thing will be that I shall have to get a lady's 
 mount for her.' 
 
 ' I never asked such a thing, that I am aware of,' said Mrs. 
 Chadwick. 
 
 ' Nor I,' added Margot, with hot cheeks. 
 
 1 There there don't fly out ! ' he said, recovering his good 
 humour. ' I don't say I mayn't do that when I've time to look 
 round me a bit and see where I am. There's the gong ! Now, 
 Allen, where's your manners? Come off that high horse of yours, 
 and give your arm to your sister.' 
 
 So the four elder members of the family went in to dinner, at 
 which Chadwick's pride and satisfaction in his son's equestrian 
 promise broke out afresh from time to time, though in the form of 
 a clumsy description of chaff. He drank to his coming successes 
 in the hunting-field, and there was a distinctly kindlier look in his 
 rather bloodshot eyes when he looked at the young man. 
 
 It might be fancy, but Allen thought that another pair of eyes 
 which met his across the table had a more friendly shine in their 
 fringed hazel depths. He did not feel quite so much on sufferanta 
 as usual ; he gathered confidence gradually, and courage too, and 
 began to take another view of his conduct. He could have ridden 
 the horse quite well, only he chose to lend it to Barchard. "WhRfc 
 harm was there in that ? He would not do it again ; to be sure, as 
 his father would ride out as usual with him on the morrow, that 
 would be unnecessary ; he must learn to manage Hussar as soon 
 as he can, and these compliments would be deserved some day. 
 
 That evening, as Chadwick walked round the billiard table,
 
 150 THE PARIAH 
 
 which had never been used in his father's life-time, he limped 
 Blightly, and from time to time gave vent to a sharp whistle. ' Only 
 the gout, my boy, 1 he said ; ' my poor father suffered from it all his 
 life, and it's beginning to find me out at last. If I'm not better to- 
 morrow, I'll have to give up riding for a bit, but that needn't make 
 any difference to you, of course.' ' Oh, of course,' said Allen. But 
 his heart sank again. 
 
 And the next day his father's foot was worse, and orders were 
 given that Hussar alone was to be saddled for the morning ride. 
 There was no escape. Allen went round to the stables, and looked 
 at Hussar, who eyed him with a backward glance of depreciatory 
 distrust. 
 
 ' You 'ad him out a goodish while yesterday, sir,' said Topham, 
 ' but he ain't none the worse to-day. Don't ride him too much on 
 the curb, if you'll excuse me tellin' of you, and he'll go like a lamb.' 
 
 Alas for Allen's good resolves ! He walked straight down to 
 the village, to a certain house with a large board above the door, 
 ' Barchard, Plumber and Decorator.' There was a yard, with a 
 shed or workshop behind, and outside this he found Bob lounging. 
 
 ' Bob,' he said, with a pitiful attempt to seem careless, ' I shall 
 be going out for a ride in half an hour. Could you be outside our 
 gates by then, do you think ? ' 
 
 ' Dunno about that,' said young Barchard, with the air of the 
 Industrious Apprentice. ' I promised father I'd see to the stacking 
 of some drain-pipes as are coining in.' 
 
 ' Oh, go on ! ' exclaimed Allen, ' you told me you never did any 
 work except when you cared. You can come, if you like ; and, I 
 say, Bob, I don't feel safe alone.' 
 
 ' Well,' said Bob, ' I'm blowed if you are safe alone, and that's 
 true enough ; but if I come and see arter you, you'll have to pay 
 me for loss o' time ; that's on'y fair, you know.' 
 
 So an arrangement was arrived at ; Allen being careful to walk 
 Hussar down the drive and along the road until he saw Bob. He 
 made a faint attempt to preserve something more of his self-respect 
 than the day before. ' I only want you just to tell me how to 
 manage him,' he said. ' I shan't get off to-day.' 
 
 ' Well, you've got your near sterrup wrong way, to start with," 
 said Bob. ' Woa, hoss ! why, you're like a babby on him, you are 
 quiet, then he's wonderful fresh this morning; he'll be off with 
 ye, if ye don't give him his head a bit.' 
 
 ' He's more likely to be off with me if I do ! ' said the unfor- 
 tunate Allen. 
 
 ' Either way,' was the unsympathetic reply, ' I can't be of much 
 use to you on this sidewalk, so I'll be off home and see to those 
 drain-pipes.' 
 
 ' No ; but look here, Bob,' protested Allen, ' I can't go back 
 yet. I know I'm not equal to managing him. What the dickena 
 am I to do if you go and leave me ? ' 
 
 ' Do ? ' said Bob, with a grin. ' Get off and lead him ; for, a3
 
 CARE AND THE HORSEMAN 151 
 
 sure as the Lord made small apples, if you don't get down of youi 
 own accord, he'll help you ! Haw-haw ! to think of you walking 
 about all the morning with that great horse on your arm 1 Folks '11 
 laugh to see such doings ! ' 
 
 ' It's very fine for you to chaff,' said Allen. ' You've been used 
 to a horse I haven't what else am I to do ? ' 
 
 ' What you did yesterday. I'll take him off your hands for an 
 hour or so ; I'll make time for that, to oblige you, and if I don't 
 bring him back as quiet as a lamb, my name isn't Barchard. 
 There, off you get, and take a little stroll through the wood and 
 that, till you hear me whistling.' 
 
 ' But you'll be known if you're seen ! ' 
 
 ' What if I am ? I've nought to be ashamed of. I shan't split 
 on you, don't you be feared. And I tell you, without lying, it ain't 
 safe for you to ride him yourself no, that it ain't ! ' 
 
 So the transfer was effected, not only for that, but many subse- 
 quent mornings, for Chadwick's gout made it difficult for him to 
 ride at first, and he seemed to lose any wish to do so even when he 
 might. ' I don't care much for it,' he would say ; ' I only rode as 
 much as I did to put Allen in the way of it, and now that he's 
 getting such a crack how many miles did you go this morning, 
 hey ? That's right, get as much out of your horse as you can, he'll 
 be none the worse for it ! ' 
 
 Every day Allen vowed either to overcome his fears and let 
 Hussar do his worst, or to tell his father frankly that he was unable 
 to ride the horse ; and every day either course became more impos- 
 sible. Chadwick only saw him mount and dismount occasionally, 
 and, Allen being able to avoid any open exhibition of incapacity, 
 aroused no suspicions of the real truth, and had to listen again and 
 again to his father's boastful references to the admirable manner in 
 which he had mounted his son, and the unexpected talent the boy 
 had revealed as an equestrian. 
 
 Some of his hearers would receive these remarks with a covert 
 smile, thinking, no doubt, that the amount of skill required to ride 
 a well-bred hunter along country roads was not excessive enough to 
 justify these paternal pseans ; but Chadwick saw nothing. It is 
 possible, however, that they knew or suspected enough to make 
 Chadwick's complacency seem even more ridiculous. Gorsecombe 
 was not more incurious than the average English village in the 
 affairs of its neighbours, and a plumber's son, however much above 
 his business, could not ride a horse like Hussar in public long with- 
 out giving rise to comment. 
 
 ' That young chap of Barchard's come into a fortun' seemin'ly,' 
 observed the postman one evening, as he refreshed himself after his 
 labours in the kitchen of the Seven Stars. 
 
 ' Lor,' now, has he though ? ' said Mrs. Parkinjear ; ' on'y to think 
 o' that ! 'Twill be a load off his poor father and mother's minds, 
 for he's not one, by all I hear, to make one for himself. But who 
 was it told ye, Posty ? '
 
 152 THE PARIAH 
 
 'Why, I've seen him about lately, c'reerin.' along as grand as 
 you please on a bright chestnut oss, as looks a thoroughbred 'un, 
 and no mistake.' 
 
 ' Barchard ain't got on'y that old oss as he drives in the cart,* 
 said the corn-dealer, ' and he an't no thoroughbred, I'll lay I ' 
 
 ' All I know is,' said the postman, ' as he's been ridin' a chest- 
 nut as Sir Everard hisself wouldn't be 'shamed to be seen on. He 
 may ha' stole it for what I can say he's rip enough.' 
 
 ' Mister Chadwick up at Agra' 'Ouse bought a chestnut 'unter 
 for his son to ride, that's the on'y oss o' that colour I know of 'bout 
 yere.' 
 
 'And that'll be the one,' said Mrs. Parkinjear, 'for him and 
 that young Barchard was quite friendly together, so my dear darter 
 tells me, though, being a gentleman, he should ha' kep' his proper 
 place with friends in his own rank accordin' another mug, Post- 
 man ? ' (Here Mrs. Parkinjear, after much fumbling, produced the 
 cellar keys from her pocket.) ' Run down, Cassandry, my dear, 
 and draw it. Depend upon it that young Barchard will have 
 talked him into lendin' the hoss to cut a dash on, which, if my 
 opinion was asked, I call bein' good-natured to them as little 
 deserves such kindness.' 
 
 And some rumour must have reached Miss Momber's ears, for, 
 having on one of her calls, which she made rather frequently, found 
 Mrs. Chadwick alone, she began almost immediately. ' Now I do 
 hope you'll not think me officious if I mention something I think 
 it's right you should know ! it's about your son.' 
 
 ' My step-son, I think you must mean ; my son is away at 
 school.' 
 
 ' Exactly your step-son. Well, there's a young fellow in the 
 village, the son of Barchard the plumber, not a very steady young 
 man, we fear, and that makes him all the more likely to be un- 
 settled by being taken up by those superior to him. We can't help 
 thinking it such a mistake for young Mr. Chadwick to lend this lad 
 his horse, as he constantly does we have seen him on it so many 
 times 1 ' 
 
 ' Is that all, dear Miss Member ? I was afraid it was something 
 very dreadful indeed. If Allen likes to be good-natured, I have no 
 right in the world to prevent him, or to dictate to him about the 
 friendships he forms, though I may wish he showed better taste. I 
 am only his step-mother, you know, and he pays no attention to 
 me ; you must speak to Mr. Chadwick about it ; but thank you so 
 much for thinking of telling me.' 
 
 That evening at dinner she said suddenly : Joshua, do you 
 know there is something wrong with the pipes in the conservatory ? 
 I suppose there's somebody in the village who could come up and 
 see what's wrong with them. Who was it that told me that the 
 son of that man Barchard, isn't it ? was so clever ; why, isn't 
 he a friend of yours, Allen ? ' 
 
 I know him to speak to,' said Allen.
 
 CARE AND THE HORSEMAN 153 
 
 ' Oh, you needn't blush, you silly boy ; one can have friends in 
 every class of life ; and at all events, I should like this young 
 Barchard to look at those pipes. Are you going to ride to-morrow ? ' 
 
 ' I I don't know,' said Allen ; ' Hussar has to be shod in the 
 morning.' 
 
 ' Then you will go out in the afternoon, so I want you to look in 
 at Barchard' s as you go by, and tell the young man not the 
 father, I'm sure he is a stupid old tiling the young man to come 
 up and see me at once. You won't forget ? ' 
 
 ' I'll fetch him back with me.' 
 
 ' Do,' said Mrs. Chadwick blandly, ' if you don't think it will 
 take too long, because I am going to ask you to ride over to Close- 
 borough for me as well to-morrow.' 
 
 ' To Closeborough ! ' stammered Allen. She might as well ask 
 him to ride to Khiva ! 
 
 ' Why not ? ' she said srniling. ' Surely that's nothing to such 
 an accomplished horseman ; it's about those ices for next Thursday. 
 I want you to go to Tarrant's, and leave a message for me.' 
 
 'Perhaps you'd like him to bring the ices back in his pockets, 
 eh, Allen ? ' said his father ; ' but you'll have plenty of time to go 
 there and back before dark, if you don't start till the afternoon. 
 You can put up for half an hour at the Crown, you know. I dare 
 say I shall think of some things I want you to order by-and-by.' 
 
 Allen lay awake that night, racking his brains to think how he 
 might evade this difficulty ; he was not fertile of resources, poor 
 fellow, and was paralysed by this sudden emergency. He could 
 only think of being taken conveniently ill, and an uneasy conscience 
 made him apprehensive that this, taken in conjunction with Bob's 
 engagement, might only provoke his father's suspicions. 
 
 So he decided that things must take their course. Perhaps 
 Hussar might not be fit to go out next day ; upon one point he was 
 determined, he would not ride him to Closeborough alone. He had 
 entered into an arrangement with Bob by which the time and place 
 of meeting were signified by a scrap of paper placed under a particu- 
 lar stone outside the gates, and he did this as usual hi the morning. 
 
 In the afternoon Hussar was brought round, tossing his head 
 and pawing the gravel impatiently. His father came out to see 
 him mount. ' Call at that ironmonger's in the Market Place,' he 
 said, ' and ask 'em why the deuce they're so long about those gar- 
 dening tools, and stop at the saddler's and tell him he can send for 
 that harness now. Remember your mother's commissions young 
 Barchard to come up at once (not that I see what use he'll be) and 
 the ices that's all.' 
 
 'He's riding devilish loose to-day,' he said to himself, as he 
 watched him down the drive. 'Why don't he make Hussar go 
 etraight ? Hasn't settled down hi his saddle yet.' 
 
 ' That wasn't Allen I heard just now ? ' said his wife, as he 
 entered her sitting-room later in the afternoon, ' he he hasn't 
 started, surely ! '
 
 154 THE PARIAH 
 
 ' Just this minute why, did you want him to do anything else 
 for you ? it's too late now.' 
 
 ' I didn't think he would really go, Joshua ! ' she said ; ' 1 
 meant to have told him that, if he would at all rather not 
 
 ' He may just as well ride to Closeborough as anywhere else,' 
 said her husband. ' What's the matter with you to-day, Selina ? 
 You seem put out about something ! ' 
 
 1 1 was only wondering,' she said, ' why that young Barchard 
 does not come.' 
 
 ' Oh, I told Allen to be sure and send him up he won't forget, 
 though why you send for a young fellow like that, I don't under- 
 stand ! ' 
 
 He left his wife to her own meditations, which were just then 
 none of the most agreeable. Careful as she was to hide it, she dis- 
 liked this step-son of hers intensely ; in secret she more than 
 sympathised with her daughters for having to accept him as a com- 
 panion and equal. He affected her nerves ; she regarded him as 
 an eyesore, a glaring incongruity, and never saw him with her chil- 
 dren without an inward revolt. She had tried to open her husband's 
 eyes to his son's deficiencies, bui gently and cautiously as she 
 insinuated her detraction, it made no way, and she was clever 
 enough to see that she would only defeat her own aim by persisting. 
 And soon she was able to hope that Allen would require no exter- 
 nal aid in forfeiting his father's good opinion. Upon that afternoon 
 when Hussar passed the carriage on the Closeborough Road, her 
 eye at least had not been deceived for an instant, and Allen's sub- 
 sequent demeanour had enabled her to guess pretty accurately 
 what had passed. All that she need do was to wait, to make a few 
 inquiries, to encourage her husband in his confidence as much as 
 possible, and leave it to Time and Chance to bring about an exposure. 
 
 If it was really true that Allen never ventured to ride Hussar 
 himself, and habitually transferred him to a humble acquaintance, 
 there could be no doubt that this would injure him seriously in his 
 father's opinion. But, except on that first occasion, she had no 
 positive evidence, only her suspicions, to go upon, until Miss 
 Member supplied the necessary confirmation. How could she 
 expose him best without seeming to do so intentionally ? Might 
 she not, by engaging him to ride at a time when he knew that hia 
 friend's services were otherwise secured, force him to refuse in such 
 a manner as to betray his deception ? It was worth the trial ; she 
 had expected confidently that he would shuffle out of it at the last 
 moment but he had started after all. She smiled as she thought 
 that, if he got this young Barchard to be his substitute this time, 
 she would have ample means of discovering it, and allowing the 
 fact to become clear in the most natural of ways. Then suddenly 
 an ugly thought occurred to her. Suppose she had gone too far ? 
 Suppose he was on his guard, or had accidentally missed Barchard, 
 or for any other reason was foolhardy enough to go to Closeborough 
 alone ? She had not reckoned this as possible before, but if it
 
 CAJIE AND THE HORSEMAN 155 
 
 were. "What chance would such a rider as Allen have upon a 
 powerful hunter which he had not had the nerve to ride alone ? If 
 if anything were to happen to him ! Mrs. Chadwick was not 
 strong-minded enough to regard such a possibility as this with 
 equanimity ; she had never intended it ; she was frightened now 
 to think that she might have rendered it possible. She took up a 
 novel and tried to forget her anxiety by reading, till the fast fading 
 light made it first difficult, then impossible, and she sat thinking, 
 unable to summon up courage to ring for lights. At last she did 
 sd, and when the butler brought in the lamp, was astonished to find 
 how late it was. ' Has Mr. Allen come back yet, Masterman ? ' 
 she asked. 
 
 ' Not to my knowledge, ma'am.' 
 
 ' It it's rather a dark evening, isn't it, Masterman ? ' 
 
 ' It is, ma'am, very dark ; I don't know when I've seen it come 
 on so dark, indeed, for the time of year. Seems a sort of blight, 
 Like, ma'am.' 
 
 ' It does seem so ; where are the young ladies ? ' 
 
 ' In the schoolroom, ma'am, with the governess. Miss Margot 
 and Miss Lettice came in some time ago been out walking, ma'am. 
 Did you wish to see them ? ' 
 
 ' No, no, don't disturb them. It is getting so late. I must go 
 up to dress soon ; and, Masterman, as soon as Mr. Allen comes in 
 from his ride let me know at once." 
 
 ' Very good, ma'am.' So Masterman withdrew, and Mrs. Chad- 
 wick again tried to absorb her thoughts in her author, and with no 
 better success. 
 
 It was past the usual dinner hour when Mrs. Chadwick, who 
 had gone up to her room, heard sounds outside of a strange voice 
 in the hall below, a sort of subdued bustle, her husband's tones 
 raised was it in alarm? She listened with her hand on her 
 heart till the sounds died away, then she rang violently. 
 
 Susan appeared with a white face : ' Oh, ma'am,' she began, ' I 
 knew there'd be something 'appen ! Topham said only this after- 
 noon that Mr. Allen didn't ought to be allowed out alone on Hussar. 
 And now it's come true isn't it dreadful, mum ? ' 
 
 ' Just tell me as quietly as you can what has happened,' said 
 Mrs. Chadwick, controlling her voice by an effort ; ' remember, I 
 know nothing.' 
 
 1 It was the men in the signal-box by the cutting between 
 Gorsecombe and Closeborough ; they saw a horse with someone on 
 him galloping along the line; it was too da*k to tell, but they 
 thought he was running away. That was an hour ago, mum. And 
 the station-master came up just now and asked to see master. 
 They've found something on the line, mum a body, I believe. 
 Master went off to see aboiit it. He was like someone out of his 
 mind, mum ! ' 
 
 ' Have you heard whether Barchard young Barchard, the son 
 is is at home or not ? '
 
 156 THE PARIAH 
 
 Susan stared, naturally failing to understand the relevancy of 
 the question at such a time. 
 
 ' Young Barchard, mum ? Masterman was passing there a few 
 minutes back, before this awful news come, mum, and, knowing 
 you wanted someone to come about the hot-water pipes, he went 
 in to speak about it.' 
 
 4 Yes yes,' gasped Mrs. Chadwick. 
 
 ' Barchard said his son was only just in, mum, but he'd send 
 him up as soon as he could.' 
 
 'That will do, Susan. Tell Miss Margot to come to me 
 instantly.' 
 
 CHAPTEB IV. 
 
 DISMOUNTED. 
 
 II y a des gens destines a etre sots. 
 II n'y a guere de poltrons qui connoissent toujours toute 
 leur peur. La Rochefoucauld 
 
 1 WHAT are you looking back like that for, Lettie ? ' asked Margot, 
 as they walked along the high road together on the afternoon 
 which their mother was spending as we have already seen. ' Yarrow 
 is ahead.' 
 
 ' I know,' said Lettice. ' I was only thinking that perhaps Allen 
 would come by." 
 
 ' And can't you be happy without seeing Allen for an hour or 
 two ? ' said Margot, with a little accent of jealous reproach. 
 
 ' Ah, but I've never seen him on Hussar, except just that one 
 time, and he went by so fast then. I wish I could ride like Allen 
 he does ride well, Margot ; you know you said so yourself. I 
 shall ask Allen to let me ride Hussar some day. I rode that donkey 
 (the nice one) at Littlehampton quite easily. Wouldn't you like to 
 ride Hussar, Margot ? ' 
 
 ' Very much, dear.' 
 
 ' I'm sure he would let youif you asked him. Shall Jask him ? 
 I'm a regular pal of his now, Margot. I didn't cotton to him at 
 all, at first, you know, but he's awfully good-natured.' 
 
 1 Lettie, you will get to talk just like a little common girl soon 
 you don't know how ugly it sounds. I wish you wouldn't be 
 quite so much with Allen.' 
 
 ' He likes to have me with him. At least, I asked him if he 
 minded once, and he said no.' 
 
 ' I was thinking of you you mustn't copy his expressions or his 
 manners, darling, they are not pretty.' 
 
 ' Oh, but I'm curing him of them, Margot. Haven't you noticed 
 he hardly ever speaks with his mouth full now, and I've taught
 
 DISMOUNTED 157 
 
 no gentleman ever shoots bread pills. And I've heard you talk 
 slang, Margot.' 
 
 ' I'm not a pattern person, darling, but at least I'm a better 
 example for you than he is. There, I don't want to run him down 
 he has his good points, but you mustn't borrow your expressions 
 from him ; you used to be so particular, Lettice ! ' 
 
 ' I'm tired of being particular it's better fun being the other 
 thing.' 
 
 Margot laughed ; she knew very well that her hint had told. 
 Haven't you had enough of this tiresome road ? ' she said. ' Sup- 
 pose we go back through the wood and across the field.' 
 
 ' Right you are ! ' said Lettice cheerfully ; ' I knew I'd catch 
 you that time, Margot! That doesn't come from Allen at all 
 but Mr. Fanshawe, who's a clergyman. Just saying it the wrong 
 side up can't be vulgar, you know. Why, it sounds twice as well 
 as " you are right ! " ' 
 
 Margot wisely declined to contest this statement. ' Call Yarrow 
 to heel,' she said, ' or he may do some mischief in these woods.' 
 
 They had entered the pine wood which bordered the road, and 
 passed up the soft tan-coloured lane with moss-grown ruts. The 
 bracken was springing up in little green croziers on the raised 
 banks, the new growth on young fir trees spiced the air, cuckooa 
 were calling from the distant fields, a solemn gloom reigned under 
 the sad green branches. 
 
 1 It's evening in here,' said Lettice, ' and I don't see Yarrow 
 anywhere listen, that's his bark, he's found something he likes 
 he always barks like that when he's pleased, let's go and see what 
 it is.' 
 
 They struck through the wood obliquely, and presently saw the 
 collie leaping and dancing delightedly around something unseen : 
 he came bounding to them, barked, and ran off again, looking over 
 his shoulder as an intimation that they were to follow. 
 
 ' It isn't something, Margot, it's somebody,' whispered Lettice ; 
 1 and he is trying to make Yarrow be quiet and go away why, it's 
 Allen's voice ! ' 
 
 She ran forward, and Allen, seeing further concealment was 
 useless, came out from behind the big pine trunk, which, but 
 for Yarrow's well-meant amiability, would have screened him 
 effectually.' 
 
 ' Have you come back already ? ' asked Lettice innocently ; 
 ' how fast you must have ridden ! "Was it all right about the ices, 
 Allen?' 
 
 ' Oh, don't bother me," he said roughly. ' I suppose you'll go 
 telling everybody where you've seen me now ! ' 
 
 Lettice drew herself up : ' I'm not a tell-tale,' she said, ' and I 
 think you're very unkind.' 
 
 Here Margot joined them. ' You can't possibly have been over 
 to Closeborough and returned already,' she said ; ' it is quite eight 
 miles from here. What has become of the horse, too ? '
 
 158 THE PAKIAH 
 
 Embarrassment made him brutal : ' You mind your business, 1 
 he said, ' and I'll do the same.' 
 
 Margot's flexible lips curled in disgust : ' By all means,' she 
 said ; ' I have no curiosity in anything that concerns you. Come, 
 Lettice, we will leave him.' 
 
 ' No,' he cried, ' don't go yet. I I don't know what it is I do 
 say, or I should never speak that way to you. If I was to tell 
 you, you'd see how it was.' 
 
 ' Kun on, Lettice, and wait by the stile at the edge of the wood 
 till I come. Now, Allen,' she continued presently, ' what is all this 
 mystery about ? Have you had a fall from your horse ? What of 
 it ? There's no disgrace in that. Is Hussar lamed ? ' 
 
 ' No,' he said, ' I haven't had a fall. I wish I had. Hussar's 
 right enough. If I thought you'd keep it a secret ' 
 
 ' I shall certainly not promise till I know what it is ; but I 
 don't wish to hear it unless you would rather tell me.' 
 
 ' I I think I would rather,' said the poor fellow. ' I may as 
 well out with it now as later, and I know you won't split on me.' 
 
 So, in a halting, sheepish fashion, he told his humiliating story, 
 of which the reader is already in possession except the concluding 
 stage. He had found Hussar more unmanageable than ever that 
 afternoon, it seemed, and, on meeting Bob outside as usual, the 
 temptation not to deliver his step-mother's message, and induce 
 Bob to ride to Closeborough and execute the various commissions 
 there in his stead, had proved irresistible and now he was waiting 
 here for Barchard to return. 
 
 From time to time his narrative was interrupted by Margot's 
 irrepressible laughter laughter in which there was a ringing under- 
 tone of a deeper contempt than she had ever felt for him before. He 
 was divesting himself of the one quality and the single accomplish- 
 ment that had been leading her to tolerate him of late. She could 
 make no allowances for him. The very awkwardness and seriousness 
 with which he made his confession rendered it the more fatally 
 ludicrous in her eyes. 
 
 ' Oh, Allen ! ' she said, as he ended, ' it really is too comic I To 
 be afraid of poor dear Hussar why. Lcftic could ride him ! ' 
 
 ' Likely enough,' he retorted sullenly ; ' I can't anyway. Bob 
 Bays he could do what he likes with me.' 
 
 ' Bob is so very disinterested,' said Margot. ' You foolish fellow, 
 can't you see that Bob did everything he could to frighten you into 
 giving him up ? And this has been going on every day. And, oh ! 
 the stories you have told! And your father thinking you were 
 getting on so well ! Why, you will be the laughing-stock of the 
 whole place and I'm sure you deserve it.' 
 
 ' Aje you going to tell them ? ' 
 
 ' As if I should give myself the trouble ! ' said Margot con- 
 temptuously ; ' but do you really expect to go on like this for ever ? 
 It is sure to come out some day, and if you are wise you will not 
 leave your father to hear it from others. If you haven't nerve
 
 DISMOUNTED 159 
 
 enough to ride, own it, and don't make yourself more ridiculous if 
 that is possible than you are already. Go back and tell your 
 father that you feel much safer on two legs than four, and that it 
 was a mistaken kindness of him to give you a horse for a present.' 
 
 He writhed. ' You come down pretty hard on me,' he said. 
 
 ' Oh, I don't pretend to pity you a bit, Allen ; it is too con- 
 temptible from beginning to end.' 
 
 ' Well,' he returned, 'you won't be the worse for it, at all events. 
 I shall get father to let you have Hussar.' 
 
 If he hoped to conciliate her thus he was disappointed. Margot's 
 merciless laughter rang out afresh. ' How generous of you ! Are 
 you quite sure you can make such a sacrifice ? I am afraid unfor- 
 tunately for me your father will not be very likely to be guided by 
 your wishes on that point after this.' 
 
 But through her mind the thought flashed eagerly. It was quite 
 possible that she might be allowed to ride Hussar. Oh, the joy of 
 being on a horse once more ! "Would there be any loss of dignity 
 in accepting the mere use of him ? Her eyes danced at the pro- 
 spect, in spite of her words. 
 
 ' Now, will you go back with Lettice and me or what ? ' she 
 said. 
 
 ' I must stop about here till Bob comes back,' he replied un- 
 easily. 
 
 ' So you will play out your little comedy ? And are you really 
 venturesome enough to ride Hussar all the way back nearly 
 half a mile ! or will Bob hold you on ? Pray don't run any 
 risks.' 
 
 In spite of her merciless mockery he could not hate her ; she 
 looked so bewitching in the sombre half light under those gloomy 
 pines, he would have given his life just then to win back her respect. 
 She stood there a moment, and then, with a curt little nod, she 
 turned away amongst the red pine stems. 
 
 He followed her with his eyes till the last glimpse of her dreas 
 had disappeared, and then, with a dull acquiescence in his own 
 humiliation, he resumed his waiting. 
 
 The sky was no longer visible through the trees, the gloom grew 
 more intense, the silence deeper, only broken by the sharp cracking 
 and rustling of branches and the mysterious minute stir of invisible 
 life. Why did not Bob return ? He should have done so before 
 this it was pitch dark in the wood. He groped his way to the 
 high road, which now showed only as a grey glimmer under a low 
 starless heaven there was nothing to be heard. Could Bob have 
 passed already unnoticed ? 
 
 He waited about in growing uneasiness, walking a few yards 
 now in one direction, now in the other, hoping against hope that all 
 was right. He could not present himself at home without knowing 
 what had become of Hussar, but at length it occurred to him as 
 just possible that Bob might have brought him back to the stables 
 himself, and he decided to go back and see if this were so.
 
 160 THE 
 
 Bob Barchard had passed an hour or two very agreeably at the bar 
 of the Crown Hotel at Closeborough, thanks to the combined attrac- 
 tions of gin and water and a good-looking barmaid. It was some- 
 what late before he gave orders for ' his horse ' to be brought round, 
 and mounted under the admiring inspection of the barmaid, who 
 came to the steps to see him depart, evidently taking him, as he 
 felt with much satisfaction, for some young gentleman-farmer. He 
 did not trouble himself about the various commissions which Allen 
 had delegated to him in fact, he had forgotten them BO he started 
 back on the Gorsecombe road at a brisk pace till he reached a part 
 where the road was lined on either side with tall elms. Here the 
 darkness, which, even in the open was unusual at so advanced a 
 season, was intense, and he walked his horse, guiding himself by 
 the hedge he could just make out upon his right hand. He was a 
 little drowsy and careless, and felt nothing but a muddled surprise 
 that the road, which he had believed to be level, should decline as 
 it did. He put it down to a symptom of his condition. Presently 
 he thought he must have turned off the track in some way he could 
 not account for, or how was it that the road seemed to be running 
 alongside at a gradually rising level ? He must get back he 
 roused Hussar and made him scramble back somehow ; but the 
 road he was on was not the same as that he had left softer, with 
 shiny ruts that gleamed dully as if it were winter. Stop were they 
 ruts ? What was Hussar stumbling at ? He held him up and 
 brought him to a standstill, and as his eyes became accustomed to 
 the darkness, he began to recognise where he was. In some way 
 he did not understand he had got upon the line ; those were the 
 metals which he had taken for ruts. "Well, he must get off again as 
 soon as he could. He turned Hussar's head and urged him to 
 return the way he had come ; but the horse, confused by the strange 
 feel of the ground, the darkness and the faint vibrating hum which 
 was borne down the line, pricked his ears and refused to stir. Bob 
 grew impatient ; he had no spurs, but he dug him in the ribs with 
 his right heel, and then struck him smartly with the little stick he 
 carried. Hussar became restive, and his rider began to see that he 
 would require all his coolness if he was to induce him to obey. 
 He coaxed him gradually to step across the rails, which he evi- 
 dently regarded with distrust, and was on the point of succeeding 
 when a long harsh scream in the distance upset the horse's already 
 strained nerves. Bob himself was scarcely less startled ; he knew 
 what it must be the express ! There was not much tune to lose, 
 and in his hurry and alarm he pulled the curb sharply. Hussar 
 plunged a little ; the scream rose again, this tune accompanied by 
 a sullen roar, and the next moment the horse had swerved away 
 from the quarter whence the noise proceeded, and was galloping at 
 full speed down the line. The ballast had been freshly laid, and 
 formed a better track than might have been expected, but at any 
 moment an uncovered sleeper might cause a stumble, and then 
 Bob shivered to think of it !
 
 DISMOUNTED 161 
 
 Faster and faster they went ; he was as powerless as Allen might 
 have been to stop the terrified animal now, and the roar and rumble 
 behind were coming nearer and nearer. They were not on the same 
 line of rails, but he knew he would not be able to control his course 
 much longer ; even if he could, the effect of an express passing at 
 full speed upon a horse already frantic would bring their career to 
 the inevitable end. Louder and louder grew the roar, and Hussar 
 was flying more and more madly along the ballast. Bob was per- 
 fectly sober now ; the shock had cleared his brain. He clung to the 
 saddle instinctively, though he knew that his case was desperate 
 and the end must be soon. He was even impatient for it all to be 
 over now, and, as they tore along, he suddenly thought of the 
 pretty barmaid at Closeborough, and wondered what she would say 
 when she heard. They were passing a signal-cabin now; the men 
 in it shouted at him from the lighted windows, and he thought bit- 
 terly what fools they were if they supposed ho was riding like this 
 for pleasure. All this took scarcely an instant ; the express was 
 close behind him now. He could hear it bounding fiercely along 
 the track, and now he saw two glaring lights and a trail of flame- 
 touched steam ahead the up-train had just left Gorsecombe 
 station. 
 
 He was directly in its track, and, if he kept his seat now, 
 nothing could save him. There was only one chance, and he took it ; 
 he shook his feet out of the stirrups, put his hands on the front of 
 his saddle, shut his eyes, and, letting go the reins, threw himself 
 off before the engine passed him. 
 
 When he recovered his senses, he was lying on his back in a bed 
 of soft rushes below the railway bank ; the roar and rattle were 
 still in his head, but he staggered to his feet and found himself un- 
 hurt, though braised and giddy and shaken. He clambered up to 
 the line again ; the metals were still warm, but the two trains had 
 vanished, and of the horse he could find no trace. 
 
 It was characteristic of Bob that the first use he made of his 
 recovered faculties was to swear at his ill-luck. When he had 
 relieved his feelings to some extent in this fashion, he limped along 
 to a level crossing which brought him into the high road again at a 
 point within an easy distance from the village. 
 
 Margot, hastily summoned by Susan, found her mother in an 
 almost distracted state. 
 
 ' Tell me what you know,' she whispered. ' Allen has not come 
 home. Wliat is it that happened to him ? ' 
 
 Margot, who had heard nothing, was struck with wonder at this 
 sudden solicitude on Allen's account. ' Happened to Allen ? ' she 
 said. ' Why nothing, mother ! ' 
 
 ' You are keeping something from me ; that horse has killed 
 him I know it, Margot ; and all through me. My God ! what 
 shall I do ? ' 
 
 'No, no,' said Margot, throwing her arms around her mother 
 
 M
 
 162 THE PAKIAH 
 
 with a return of her old affection. ' You poor darling, it is a shame 
 that you should be frightened like this. The horse cannot have hurt 
 him, because he took care not to give it the opportunity. There, 
 I half promised not to tell, but I can't see you in such a state and 
 say nothing.' So she related her interview with Allen in the wood. 
 1 He has not come home because he was ashamed to ; and no 
 wonder ! Now are you satisfied ? And how could it be through 
 you, in any case ? ' 
 
 Mrs. Chadwick began to recover her self-control. ' Did I say 
 so ? ' she asked. ' I was so horribly anxious, Margot, and and it 
 was I who asked him to ride over to Closeborough for me, that was 
 all. Ah, here is your father. Joshua, tell me was there nothing 
 really the matter after all ? ' 
 
 He was still pale, and his face wore a heavy scowl. ' If you call 
 a two-hundred-guinea horse cut to pieces on the railway nothing,' 
 he said ' I don't myself.' 
 
 ' Cut to pieces ! Oh, poor Hussar ! ' cried Margot, turning pale. 
 ' And and young Barchard he was not not killed ? ' 
 
 ' So you knew of it, too ! ' he said. ' I suppose I was the only 
 one in the dark. Killed ! I wish he had been ! A nice fellow he 
 is to be trusted with a horse like that. And Allen there's a son 
 to be proud of ! Why, I've been half mad with thinking he'd broken 
 his neck, or worse. I might have spared myself ! And you two 
 were in this precious secret, were you, helping him to make a fool 
 of me, eh ? ' 
 
 ' You are quite wrong,' said Margot. ' I only knew this after- 
 noon when we met him in the woods, and he told me he was afraid 
 to ride the horse, and mother did not know till this very minute. 
 I don't think you have any right to accuse us of such things.' 
 
 ' I was wrong there ! Can't you see I'm not my own master ? 
 Where is that boy ? I must have this out with him, and he'll hear 
 Borne things he won't forget in a hurry. Have dinner without me, 
 it's cold by this time. I can't touch anything ! ' 
 
 ' How you are trembling, dear ! ' said Margot to her mother, 
 when he had left the room ; ' you are not frightened now, 
 surely ? ' 
 
 ' I I have been a little upset by all this,' was the reply. ' That 
 wretched boy ! let us be thankful it is no worse.' 
 
 ' It is bad enough,' said Margot, ' to think of that beautiful horse 
 being killed in this terrible way, and all because he was such a 
 coward ; it makes me hate him, mother ! ' 
 
 ' I had been hoping to see you ride Hussar some day,' said Mrs. 
 Chadwick. 
 
 ' Don't talk about it, 5 entreated Margot. ' What does all that 
 matter now ? But, oh, I hope he will be made to feel ashamed of 
 himself ! ' 
 
 ' I think,' replied her mother rather grimly, ' that his father will 
 take care of that.' 
 
 Allen had gone guiltily in by the stable-yard, but the stables
 
 DISMOUNTED 163 
 
 were dark and closed, the coachman was probably at his meals in- 
 doors ; he stole into the house and was met by Masterman. 
 
 ' I was to say,' said that functionary, ' that master wished to see 
 you the minute you come in, Mr. Allen, in the study.' 
 
 ' Is is anything up ? ' asked Allen ; he did not dare to inquire 
 whether Hussar had returned. 
 
 ' I can't give you any information, sir, really,' was the answer, 
 in a tone of lofty disapproval, for Topharn had been bitter in his 
 laments just before. 
 
 Allen went into the study. 
 
 ' So here you are at last, sir,' was his father's greeting. ' And 
 what have you got to say for yourself ? ' 
 
 ' I I know I haven't been acting quite quite straight, 
 guv'nor,' said Allen ; ' but it's no use, I can't ride that horse any 
 more.' 
 
 Chadwick gave a short, furious laugh. 'Well, no,' he said, 
 1 you've taken care of that do you know where he is now ? ' 
 
 ' N no,' said Allen. 
 
 ' Well, the friend you were so good as to lend him to took him 
 for a gallop along the line, and they found all that was left of the 
 poor beast in the six-foot way an hour ago that's good news for 
 you, I dare say ! ' 
 
 Allen felt cold and sick. ' And Bob ? ' he said ; ' what of Bob ? ' 
 
 ' Oh, don't be alarmed ; Bob's not born for that sort of end. He 
 wasn't even scratched. I've just had a talk with him, and heard 
 how you've been taking your horse-exercise lately. A nice story it, 
 was, too ! ' 
 
 Allen was too much relieved to mind anything else just then ; 
 his father broke into a torrent of abuse, stimulated rather than 
 disarmed by his silence ; shame, wounded vanity, resentment at 
 having been duped, anger at the loss of a valuable horse all 
 contributed to lend variety and force to Chadwick's expressions. 
 
 ' There,' he said at last, ' I've tried to make a man of you, and 
 this is all I've got for it. I'm damned if your fit for anything but 
 counter -jumping. It's enough to make a man wish he'd never had 
 a son, all this shirking and skulking and lying. Tchah ! get out of 
 my sight ; be off to bed, and stay there for all I care ! ' 
 
 Allen was glad enough to go ; he was worn out and stunned to 
 a sort of indifference, and yet, as he went up to his room, he had a 
 forlorn feeling that henceforth his life would be changed, that the 
 place he had so lately occupied in his father's affections was, 
 through his own miserable folly and cowardice, lost to him for ever.
 
 164 THE PAEIAH 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 A SOJOURN IN COVENTRY. 
 Le ridicule deshonore plus que le deslionneur. La Rocliefoucauld, 
 
 IT was natural that such conduct as Allen's should cause some 
 change in his father's feelings towards him, but Mrs. Chadwick her- 
 self could not have desired a more complete alteration than that 
 which followed. He had always persuaded himself that the defi- 
 ciencies of his son's early education would not hinder him from 
 becoming a fairly creditable country gentleman now that he was 
 given opportunities. In this way he had salved his conscience for 
 the neglect of many years, during which, with a little less self- 
 indulgence, he might have clone more for his son. 
 
 Forced as he was now to recognise that the results of that 
 neglect could never be effaced, if he felt his own responsibility at 
 all, the only effect it had was to put a keener edge upon his anger 
 and infuse into his contempt a bitterer flavour. 
 
 For some time after Hussar's catastrophe, Chadwick led his son 
 a wretched life, never losing an opportunity of indulging in some 
 caustic allusion. ' "Wilkins was asking me to-day ' ("Wilkins was the 
 Gorsecornbe station-master) ' whether he should send up Hussar's 
 saddle and bridle,' he said on one occasion, when they were all at 
 luncheon. ' They're not fit for anything now, but I suppose he 
 thought ' (he was addressing Allen) ' that you might like to keep 
 "em as a souvenir or something of that sort. Perhaps you would '? ' 
 
 Allen flinched and changed colour, as he declined these ghastly 
 relics. 
 
 ' Well, I dare say you're right,' was the retort, given with a short 
 rasping laugh ; ' you had precious little connection with 'em. I 
 forgot that. Your friend, Bob Barchard, is the man they ought to 
 go to ; he's fairly earned 'em.' 
 
 His anger, which was nourished for some time by the curiosity 
 and condolences of all Gorsecornbe, abated at length, and lapsed 
 into a contemptuous indifference with an occasional sarcastic out- 
 burst, but his confidence had gone for ever. Fate had seen fit to 
 afflict him with a son who was an incorrigible cub, an abject cockney. 
 He must put up with it, he supposed, but he could not forget how 
 he had been deceived, or overcome his disgust at Allen's ingratitude 
 &nd cowardice. 
 
 This change of attitude could not fail to have a certain effect 
 upon the behaviour of the other members of his family, as it re- 
 moved all necessity for keeping up an appearance of cordial rela- 
 tions with Allen. They did not attack him after his father's fashion, 
 though Miss Henderson and Ida permitted themselves occasionally 
 a languidly malicious innuendo, which generally missed its mark,
 
 A SOJOURN IN COVENTRY 165 
 
 Mrs. Chadwick, indeed, was a model of frigid forbearance, while 
 Margot spared his feelings from some latent instinct of generosity, 
 and still more from a sense of his insignificance. 
 
 But, though he took a long time to find it out, there was no 
 longer any attempt to disguise that his presence in the drawing- 
 room of an evening was not a source of unmixed delight. He could 
 not wander now, as he liked to do, from one to the other, making 
 blundering attempts to join the conversation or game, or amusing 
 himself by teasing Lettice and Ida, without being continually re- 
 pulsed. It was : ' Allen, do you mind moving somewhere else ? 
 you are horribly hi my light ; ' or, ' Allen, we do hate to have any- 
 body looking on at us so ; ' or, ' Please let me alone, Allen, it 
 teases ; ' and then his step-mother would remark, ' If you could 
 only sit down quietly, and amuse yourself with a book or something, 
 instead of being a perfect nuisance to everybody, it would be such 
 a comfort ! ' and his father would bring up the rear by adjuring him, 
 for God's sake, to do as he was asked, or leave the room. 
 
 "Whereupon he would sit down and perhaps pretend to be engaged 
 in a book, though he passed most of the time in furtively regarding 
 Margot from behind it. 
 
 He fancied sometimes that, when his father indulged in his 
 heavy gibes at his expense, she wore a look of discomfort, which 
 he took for sympathy, and the belief made him able to endure 
 many an unpleasant hour, for his was one of those natures which 
 are capable of drawing a certain morbid pleasure from ill-treatment, 
 if only they can feel that their wrongs excite compassion in the 
 onlooker. 
 
 One onlooker at least did not conceal her sympathy, and that 
 was the Miss Chevenings' maid, Susan, who found an opportunity 
 one day to let him know that she considered him shamefully 
 treated. Susan was not, perhaps, the person best entitled in the 
 world to express abhorrence of domestic oppression, but it is not 
 so very unusual for tyrants, large or small, to be moved with very 
 sincere pity for their neighbour's victims. 
 
 Susan was of a contradictory turn of mind ; she was tired of 
 hearing her fellow-servants abusing the son of the house, particu- 
 larly when they contrasted him unfavourably with his step-sisters. 
 She exhorted him to stick up for himself, to show a spirit, and 
 let certain people that thought themselves everybody understand 
 that he wasn't to be treated like the dirt under their feet, with 
 many other counsels as outspoken as she thought prudent. 
 
 Allen had no dignity to be offended ; he was rather touched 
 and grateful than otherwise, and had not experience to see that it 
 was not altogether becoming or safe to encourage clandestine 
 demonstrations of sympathy from a domestic who was far from 
 ill-favoured. 
 
 Indeed, with Margot's face constantly before him, he did not 
 so much as notice whether Susan was good-looking or not. He 
 had not so many friends in that household that he could aftord to
 
 166 THE PAEIAH 
 
 reject this one, and so, without any intention on his side, a sort of 
 alliance was established between them. 
 
 Perhaps Susan had motives of her own. He would be well-off 
 some day, he would not be the first young man who had been 
 induced to make an unequal marriage ; and then what a triumph 
 it would be to find herself a sort of step sister-in-law to Miss 
 Margot, especially if she were to hold the purse-strings ! 
 
 But if she were ever to secure such a prize, she must, she 
 knew, proceed with the greatest caution the slightest indiscretion, 
 or appearance of haste would be fatal. So she was careful to 
 avoid exciting remark in any way, encountering him now and then 
 apparently by accident, at times when they were unlikely to be 
 disturbed, and adopting a tone of sympathy tempered by respect. 
 She was not without hopes that the evident gratitude he showed 
 would develop into something more, though for the present she 
 was obliged to confess to herself that he gave no sign of anything 
 like admiration. 
 
 However, it was fortunate for him in one way that he was less 
 at home than formerly. It is true that the advantage was only 
 relative, as he spent most of the time in the company of young 
 Barchard. 
 
 No breach had occurred between Allen and Bob. That young 
 gentleman had contrived to make it appear that he had narrowly 
 escaped becoming the victim of his own self-sacrifice. He was 
 magnanimous and forgiving; for, setting aside the distinction of 
 being on friendly terms with one in Allen's position, the advantages 
 in having a companion with the double recommendation of being 
 always flush of money and readily induced to spend it were not to 
 be lightly thrown away. He had proposed to teach Allen to drive 
 as a respectable substitute for horse-exercise, and the offer was 
 gratefully accepted. 
 
 There was a light trap which Bob had persuaded his father to 
 buy, a vehicle which, though not showy, had nothing in its exterior 
 to betray the shop, and the mare, if not much to look at, went well. 
 Allen accompanied him in the business errands which formed the 
 only work Bob consented to undertake, and, under Bob's guidance, 
 he did become a very tolerable whip. 
 
 This was better in some ways than loafing about the Agra 
 House grounds, or wandering aimlessly along country roads to kill 
 the time, and no one cared or asked questions about the manner in 
 which he employed his mornings and afternoons. 
 
 There was nothing in Barchard's appearance to be ashamed of. 
 He dressed well in a sporting style, for he cultivated the manners 
 and amusements of a higher station, if his tongue betrayed him 
 occasionally. He ' knew his way about,' as he was accustomed to 
 boast, and certainly had a considerable familiarity with such dissi- 
 pation as Closeborough afforded. All this had its effect upon Allen, 
 who was no great judge of character or breeding; he decidedly 
 preferred Bob's society to his own, and it was generally his only
 
 A SOJOURN IN COVENTRY 167 
 
 alternative. But hitherto he had spent his evenings at home, and 
 while in Barchard's company had withstood all temptation to take 
 more drink than was good for him. His chief restraint was the 
 fear of disgracing himself irretrievably in Margot's eyes. 
 
 For ' some time Allen had been troubled by a suspicion that 
 Lettice was kept out of his way ; an excuse was always ready she 
 had her lessons, or her music to do, she was engaged to play a 
 4 single ' at tennis with Ida, she was going out to walk or drive 
 with somebody else the result being that he had never once been 
 alone with her since that afternoon in the pine wood. 
 
 He was in the drawing-room after lunch one day with a linger- 
 ing hope that Margot might condescend to play a game or two of 
 lawn-tennis with him, bad player as he was. The Agra House 
 drawing-room w r as divided into two by the wall in which the fire- 
 place stood, and on either side of the fireplace was an arch con- 
 necting one room with the other, so that, practically, the two 
 rooms were one. Allen was in the further room, and his step- 
 mother was at her writing-table in the other. Presently he heard 
 Lettice come in, evidently much excited. ' Mummy,' she said, 
 ' may I go fishing ? William has found a lot of worms under the 
 manure by the stables. And may he come to put them on for 
 me ? They're such leggy worms, mother ! ' Mrs. Chadwick 
 consented, and Lettice was off. Here was Allen's chance ; he had 
 bought Lettice the fishing-rod himself she would not refuse to let 
 him accompany her, he thought. So he slipped out, and intercepted 
 her on her way to the stables. ' Going fishing, Lettie ? ' he said. 
 
 ' Yes, Allen,' said Lettice shortly. 
 
 ' You'll want someone to put the worms on,' he said. ' I'll come 
 and do all that for you.' 
 
 ' Thank you,' said Lettice, ' but I may take "William.' 
 
 ' They won't mind me going with you instead of William.' 
 
 Lettice looked down, and spoke in a muffled little voice : ' I 
 would rather William went,' she said. ' I don't want you to come.' 
 
 ' Someone's put you up to saying that,' he retorted. ' It isn't 
 likely you'd say so of your own accord such pals as we used to be, 
 Lettie ! ' 
 
 ' I'm not pals, which is a very vulgar word, Allen, any longer.' 
 
 ' Oh, you aren't ? Well, look here just tell me this, what 
 have I done ? ' 
 
 ' You let poor dear Hussar be taken on the railway and killed, 
 and Ida says she believes you wanted him to be, because you were 
 afraid to ride him ; and you told stories about it. I don't care to 
 go fishing with people who do such things.' 
 
 ' You don't seem to mind going fishing with the rod I gave 
 you ! ' He intended this rather as an appeal than a sneer, but 
 Lettie flushed at the reminder, and then, not without an evident 
 struggle, said, ' Did you give it to me ? I'd forgotten. Then you 
 may have it back again. I don't want it.' 
 
 She held it towards him heroically. ' All right,' he said, as he
 
 168 THE PARIAH 
 
 took it. ' I didn't think you'd turn against me, but please yourself. 
 I'll give you one more chance,' he added, with the hope of con- 
 quering her. ' If you won't take this thing back and let us two be 
 friends again, I'll smash it it's no use to me. Are you going to 
 take it, or not ? ' 
 
 He might have known that this was the very last way to 
 attempt to move Lettice. 
 
 ' I have told you once,' she replied ; ' I shan't tell you again.' 
 
 ' Then, there ! ' he said, and broke it into several pieces ; ' that's 
 all you get by that ! ' 
 
 The moment he had done it he was ashamed of the impulse, 
 especially as Lettice, her fortitude at an end, burst into tears. He 
 caught her hands roughly. ' Don't cry, Lettie,' he said, ' I I didn't 
 mean it. I'll buy j^ou another a better one, only be friends again ! ' 
 
 She struggled to free herself. ' Let me go, you are hurting my 
 wrists 1 ' she said. ' I hate you you're a bully ; cowards always are ! ' 
 
 He dropped her hands as if they had burnt him. He laughed 
 bitterly. ' Go it ! ' he said it was his misfortune that he had no 
 more dignified phrase at command ' don't mind me. You haven't 
 a good word for me now, it seems. Make me out as bad as you 
 can. If you hate me, I can do without you I'm not so hard up 
 for company as all that ! ' 
 
 Lettice had gone while he was speaking, and he turned away 
 with a lump rising in his throat ; he had loved this child ; he loved 
 her still ; the discovery that she too had withdrawn her friendship 
 had come upon him with a suddenness that had made him forget 
 himself for the moment. And now he had offended her beyond all 
 hope of forgiveness ! How he wished now that he had not been so 
 foolish as to threaten to reclaim his gift. Perhaps if he had not 
 done that well, it was too late to think of that now. He tried to 
 persuade himself that it did not matter, and went down into the 
 village to find Barchard. 
 
 ' Has Lettie come back from her fishing yet ? ' Mrs. Chadwick 
 asked Ida, as she came in to afternoon tea from the tennis-court. 
 4 1 don't like her to be down by the stream too long.' There was a 
 little stream at the bottom of the grounds, covered with water- 
 lilies, and inhabited by a few minute dace or roach, upon which 
 Lettice had proposed to try her skill. 
 
 ' She never went,' said Ida. ' Mother, what do you think 
 Allen did ? I was at the schoolroom window and saw everything. 
 He actually met Lettie and took her rod away and broke it 1 Poor 
 Lettie came in crying dreadfully, but she wouldn't tell me any- 
 thing about it.' 
 
 ' He is getting worse and worse ! ' said Mrs. Chadwick. ' He 
 ie a perfect plague to everyone in the house. And to be brutal to 
 poor dear little Lettie, who has always been so sweet to him. I 
 shall certainly ask his father to interfere. I will not have the child 
 terrified like this ! ' 
 
 She spoke to some purpose, for when Allen entered the room
 
 A SOJOURN IN COVENTRY 1G9 
 
 in his usual shamefaced manner before dinner, Chadwick turned 
 savagely upon him before them all. 
 
 ' This drawing-room's no place for you, sir,' he said. ' You'll 
 not be allowed to play the rough here. Just walk out of it, and 
 don't let me hear of your ill-treating a child again ! ' 
 
 ' He didn't ill-treat me ! ' declared Lettice. ' Ida, I didn't want 
 you to tell.' 
 
 Yarrow had walked up to Allen, and was thrusting his long 
 nose into his hand as he stood there. 
 
 ' If I'm not to come into the drawing-room,' he said, ' where 
 am I to go ? ' 
 
 ' That's your affair,' said his father. ' There's plenty of other 
 rooms in the house without coming here to be an annoyance to 
 everybody.' 
 
 ' Then I'm not wanted at dinner either, I suppose ? ' he said, 
 with a sinking heart. 
 
 ' If you choose to behave decently while you are there, no one 
 wants to prevent you from dining that I know of, but you'll keep 
 out of this place till you have learnt to behave like a gentleman to 
 your sisters.' 
 
 Allen went, Yarrow walking with him, much puzzled, as far as 
 the door. He waited in the library till the gong sounded, and then 
 hesitated. If he stayed away from dinner, he would gain nothing 
 by it ; he could not give up the pleasure, shot as it was with pain, 
 of sitting opposite to Margot as usual. He pocketed his pride and 
 went in. 
 
 Nothing was said to him throughout the meal, and when 
 Mrs. Chadwick and Margot had risen, his father addressed him for 
 the first time. ' If you like to go into the billiard-room,' he re- 
 marked, ' it's lighted.' 
 
 ' Are are you coming ? ' 
 
 ' I ? No. I am going into the drawing-room presently. But, 
 as I told you before dinner, the less they see of you in there the 
 better they're pleased. If you will behave like a blackguard, you 
 have yourself to thank for it. You needn't expect me to take your 
 part, after the way you've treated me ; it serves me right for 
 thinking I could ever make a gentleman of you ! ' 
 
 Perhaps Chadwick spoke as he did with some purpose of pro- 
 voking his son to make some profession of sorrow and amendment, 
 but Allen sat silent, afraid, if he spoke, of drawing down a fresh 
 storm upon his head. Chadwick sat moodily smoking his cigar a 
 little while, and then rose abruptly, leaving his son to follow his 
 own devices. 
 
 Allen did not go up to the billiard-room ; he put on a rough 
 coat and took his pipe, and left the house for the inn in the village, 
 where Bob had often said he spent his evenings. He would 
 infinitely rather have sat in the drawing-room, coldly as he might 
 be received there, but they would not have Tn'r", and at least he 
 would be welcome at the White Lion.
 
 170 THE PARIAH 
 
 It was Whitsuntide, and Nugent Orme had managed to get 
 away from chambers for a few days and come down to the Vicarage. 
 It was always a delight to return to the old home, but never before 
 had he come back with this excited anticipation. For was it not as 
 certain as anything could be that he would meet the girl whose face 
 had never ceased to trouble him for nearly a year now ? "Whose 
 personality good or evil, or, like most personalities, a subtle 
 compound of both fascinated him so powerfully. He heard much 
 about her from his sister Millicent on the evening of his arrival, 
 as they paced the Vicarage lawn together in the dusk after dinner. 
 Very little diplomacy was required to bring Millicent to enlarge 
 upon the subject. She was full of Miss Chevening's praises ; her 
 wonderful beauty and the admiration she excited everywhere, her 
 devotion to her sisters, and the sweetness with which she bore 
 home-trials. 
 
 Nugent was out soon after breakfast the next day a lovely 
 morning, with a light breeze and small silver clouds scudding across a 
 sky of the deepest blue. He walked along the broad street, past 
 the familiar little shops whose striped awnings were fluttering 
 gaily ; as he neared the infant school, he heard the monotonous 
 rise and fall of rustic voices chanting, ' twice eleven are twenty-two, 
 twice twelve are twenty-four,' with the solemn devotion of persons 
 making a profession of faith. After the roar of London, it seemed 
 very peaceful here, where the only person he met was the old 
 postman in his summer white ducks. At the Seven Stars he 
 turned in to have a talk with Mrs. Parkinjear, an old friend of his. 
 1 Ah, I knew the old lady would be the first you'd come to see, Mr. 
 Nugent,' she told him, ' though the poor old lady can't see you, and 
 a sad deprivation it is to lose one's sight. I step out o' nights 
 sometimes and try if I can see the beautiful moon and the bright 
 stars that in their courses roll, but it's all o' no use I can't see 
 nothin' ; so here I sit in the sunshine and try to be content with 
 the warmth, for we in the morning here, you see, gets it very 
 beautiful, Mr. Nugent, don't us ? And how hev you been getting 
 along, sir ? Ah, we've felt the want of you here, sir, in the place of 
 your early birth. That Mr. Fanshawe, he don't keep up the 
 cricket club as you used to, and as to the arthritic sports, why, sir, they 
 tell me in the tug-o'-war as Gorsecombe was pulled right over the 
 line first go off by a team like Tadford ! I sez when I heard of it, 
 " Ah, they ought to hev had Mr. Nugent there Jie'd never ha' bin 
 pulled over the line if they tried till now." There's bin changes 
 since last you were here, sir. No doubt you've heard as Mr. 
 Chadwick's married a widow lady. It's a sad pity as his son 
 shouldn't behave himself more suitable ; it looks so bad for a young 
 gentleman to be always about with such as that young Barchard ; 
 and to be seen in the bar of the White Lion every evening almost, 
 with those whose company wouldn't do nobody any good. I'm 
 glad they don't come to my house, and BO I am sincerely. Ah, 
 dear ! it's time indeed a friendly word was epoken to him.'
 
 A SOJOUEN IN COVENTRY 171 
 
 Nugent was disappointed at such a report ; he had hoped better 
 things of Allen. However, he expected to find out more in the 
 course of the afternoon, when he was, he knew, to meet the Agra 
 House party at a tennis tournament at HoUy Bank. But the 
 chief person in his thoughts just then was certainly not Allen. 
 
 He had not been at home in time to put down his name as a 
 player, so he was reduced to look on at the tournament. There 
 was a large gathering, for most of the people in the neighbourhood 
 had come over. The question of partners had been settled in the 
 morning by drawing lots, and the results gave as much satisfaction 
 as they ever do on these occasions, young ladies who had been 
 drawn with indifferent players not always troubling themselves to 
 feign resignation. Mr. Fanshawe arrived late and breathless, in 
 hybrid costume of black upper garments and white flannel trousers. 
 ' So awfully sorry ! ' he exclaimed to Miss Eddlestone. ' Had a 
 funeral over at Lingmere ; you can fancy how ghastly it was for 
 me, thinking all the tune you'd be playing without me ! ' which 
 caused Mr. Liversedge to utter the prediction that that young 
 man would end his career as a bishop. And so the tournament 
 proceeded, with the features characteristic of these social com- 
 petitions : the talkative young lady who explained exactly why she 
 had or had not taken or missed or left each ball ; the humble 
 young man who bungled everything and apologised profusely to a 
 partner who listened with chilling magnanimity and said it really 
 did not matter ; there was the casual player, the vicious player, 
 the jocular player (represented on this occcasion by Mr. Callembore, 
 who was in great form, enacting an uproarious cockney). ' Another 
 wegetarian ! ' he would yell, as a ball disappeared in a flower-bed. 
 'It's the young lady's turn to 'it the ball. Oh, it's astronomy this 
 time 1 ' as the ball soared into the sky. ' I hate letting these affairs 
 get too stiff,' he remarked later, in self-justification, ' and I do 
 flatter myself that if I am nothing else I am rather a good buffoon.' 
 
 Nugent had no opportunity as yet of speaking to Margot, who 
 was playing on one of the courts. He had to be contented with 
 watching her as she moved in her pretty cream-tinted tennis 
 costume, and admiring the grace and decision with which she 
 placed her balls. She seemed to have got back her old light- 
 heartedness and animation, and to be the girl he had met on the 
 Trouville shore last summer. "Whatever cares she had were sitting 
 lightly on her just now. 
 
 Her adversaries were Joceline Hotham and young Stannion, the 
 Admiral's son, whose red and white ' blazer ' with the army button 
 showed that he was not long from Sandhurst. The contest was 
 close, as the sides were nearly equal, though Margot's partner, 
 Fanshawe, was not always to be depended upon ; she had set her 
 heart on winning, being, perhaps, further incited by the calm 
 manner in which Miss Hotham ignored her existence. For a long 
 time the victory wavered, but at last a skilfully delivered serve of 
 Margot's decided game and set in her favour. Then, to her sur-
 
 172 THE PARIAH 
 
 prise, Miss Hotham showed herself disposed to be gracious, and 
 came to meet her conqueror. ' I've been wondering,' she said, 
 ' whether yon ever meant to know me again or not, because, unless 
 I'm mistaken, we were at school together.' 
 
 ' I thought you had forgotten,' said Margot. 
 
 ' Ah, well,' said Joceline, ' I suppose neither of us liked to be the 
 first. I'm coming over to see you some day, and have a talk over 
 old times. How well you play tennis ! I get so little practice at 
 home now, with a brother at Oxford. That's the boring part of 
 having a brother at a University, you know one never sees him.' 
 
 ' Doesn't one ? ' said Margot. ' I thought they had vacations and 
 all that.' 
 
 ' Oh, they do but then they're always away on reading parties, 
 or " stopping up," as they call it, or visiting, or something. I know 
 I don't see Guy oh, not once in six months, and then only for a 
 few days ! Here, little pink girl, just run and get me my gloves 
 and sunshade, will you ? My mother has them.' 
 
 1 1 don't know your mother, or your gloves, or your sunshade,' 
 said Lettice, who was deeply offended at this allusion to her frock. 
 
 ' Oh, I thought everyone about here knew mamma never mind, 
 I'll go myself,' and Miss Joceline fluttered across, leaving Margot 
 to her reflections. She was not ill-pleased that Miss Hotham's 
 liauteur had turned out to be more or less imaginary, but it was 
 not that which occupied her mind just then. She was thinking 
 still, when she turned and saw Nugent Orme standing before her. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 MARGOT ASKS ADVICE AND EECEIVES IT. 
 
 Till then her lovely eyes maintain 
 Their pure, unwavering, deep disdain. 
 
 Matthew Arnold. 
 
 MARGOT had known beforehand that Nugent Orme would be at 
 Holly Bank that afternoon, and was aware of his presence almost 
 as soon as he appeared on the la\vn. For the pleasure it gave her 
 sho was less prepared ; she was conscious of looking her best just 
 then, glad that he should find her holding her own in Gorsecombe 
 society; but that did not entirely account for the happiness she 
 felt when they actually met. 
 
 She had forgotten or had she never really noticed till then ? 
 the mingled power and gentleness of his face, with its smiling grey 
 eyes and square chin ; even in the sound of his voice there was 
 something pleasantly familiar. She was flattered and touched by 
 the satisfaction it was not difficult to read in his expression. They
 
 MAEGOT ASKS ADVICE AND RECEIVES IT 173 
 
 were alone for the moment. Lettice had run off, and the general 
 attention was concentrated on an exciting rally which was in 
 progress on the more distant court. There was a garden-bench in 
 a secluded angle of the shrubbery, and they could talk there 
 without fear of being interrupted. 
 
 ' And so,' said Margot, as she took her seat with a little sigh of 
 luxurious relief, 'we have turned out to be near neighbours it 
 seemed unlikely enough at Trouville, didn't it ? Do you know 
 that your sister and I have sworn undying friendship already ? ' 
 
 ' She was telling me so last night. I am very glad. I hoped 
 you would be friends. And you don't regret Chiswick too bitterly ? ' 
 
 ' It is no use regretting though I do sometimes ; you know 
 home never can be quite the same thing now.' 
 
 ' I know,' he said simply. 
 
 ' Of course one gets used to most things. I don't want you to 
 think I am complaining, but you can understand it is well, a littla 
 trying sometimes. I make the best of it. I do indeed.' 
 
 ' I am sure you do. I have not seen my old pupil, Allen, here 
 this afternoon.' 
 
 Her lip took its old disdainful curve. ' Allen ? ' she said, 
 raising her eyebrows. ' Oh, no, he would be rather out of his 
 element here ; he prefers very different company. He has no taste 
 for civilised society, though that is fortunate, perhaps.' 
 
 ' I am sorry,' he said slowly. ' I had hoped that he would 
 improve under under better influences.' 
 
 ' You were always rather an optimist about him. If there are 
 better influences I'm afraid he doesn't appreciate them.' 
 
 She was silent for a while, and sat spreading and shutting her 
 hand in the restless manner he remembered ; then she turned 
 to him suddenly. ' I've been thinking,' she said slowly. ' Wouldn't 
 it be a good thing for him if he went to college ? He is not 
 too old ? ' 
 
 ' Too old ? No, I have seen grey-headed undergraduates with a 
 wife and family, for that matter but I am not at all sure that 
 Allen would be the better for going to a University.' 
 
 ' Why? ' she said a little shortly. ' I thought you would be sure 
 to agree ! ' 
 
 ' Well, you see, he's not naturally clever ; he's had next to no 
 education ; he isn't athletic he might get into a bad set there.' 
 
 ' It couldn't possibly be worse than the set he has in the 
 village,' she replied ; ' I should have thought even the worse kind 
 of undergraduates would be better for him than village boors who 
 are not gentlemen in any sense of the word. And why should he 
 not make some friends who would do him good isn't college a 
 place for that ? ' 
 
 ' There is one objection at the outset,' he said. ' Most colleges, 
 if not all, have an entrance examination matriculation it is called 
 before you can join them ; it is not difficult, to be sure, in most 
 cases, but, simple as it is, I doubt whether he could pass it now.'
 
 174 THE PARIAH 
 
 'If it is simple,' she said, 'he could be coached for it no one 
 is too dull to be coached; you are making difficulties, Mr. Orme I 
 Oh, how I wish I could make you see that it is the best thing 
 for him he really can't be allowed to go on like this, it is too 
 dreadful to see it ! ' 
 
 She spoke eagerly, almost passionately, from the desire she felt 
 to escape from the constant burden of her step-brother's presence, 
 which had begun to react upon her nerves. It was not that he was 
 actively aggressive or offensive he was not even in the house for 
 the greater part of the day ; but stories, often exaggerated, reached 
 her of the habits he had fallen into of his driving, drinking, and 
 betting with low associates which increased her original repulsion. 
 When he was at home she was troubled by the sight of him sitting, 
 mute for the most part, and unnoticed, except when his father 
 made him the butt of some savage satire. She resented the stolid 
 misery and abasement in his face, and it oppressed her to feel that 
 his eyes were constantly following her movements. She felt him, 
 in short, as an embodied reproach, pretesting dumbly against an 
 aversion which she could not and did not wish to overcome. 
 
 Margot was a little provoked at Orme's opposition ; she had 
 counted upon his assistance to her scheme, which, suggested within 
 the last few minutes by Joceline Hotham's remark, had already 
 matured until she was firmly convinced of its advantages. 
 
 Orme naturally saw nothing but the eagerness, which, as he put 
 it down to the best and purest motives, only increased his admira- 
 tion for her ; but he knew Allen too well to believe that he would 
 gain anything but harm from a University career, and not even 
 Margot's pretty impetuousness could lead him to take her view. 
 
 ' So you won't speak to my step-father ? ' she said at last, after 
 exhausting her arguments. ' I know he has a great respect for your 
 opinion.' 
 
 ' If I spoke I should advise him against it,' he said ; ' it would 
 only end in fresh disappointment. It is so good and kind of you to 
 be so anxious that he should have a chance of doing better, but I 
 can't honestly approve of your plan, and it's better to tell you so at 
 once.' 
 
 Margot was absently tracing the network of her racket with one 
 supple forefinger ; her eyes had a touch of compunction in them as 
 she raised them at last. 'You think me better than I am,' she 
 said a little defiantly, in spite of her eyes. ' I don't pretend to be a 
 quite unselfish person, Mr. Orme. I still believe Allen would be 
 better at college, but it is not entirely on his own account that 
 I want him to go. It would be such a relief if he were to be away 
 sometimes ! He is only uncomfortable at home, and he makes us 
 all uncomfortable too. "Well, I must bear it, I suppose, as you are 
 evidently against me. Please don't mention my poor plan to 
 anybody. I want you to promise me that '? ' 
 
 ' Certainly,' he said, ' There is no necessity to say anything 
 about it now that it is given up.'
 
 MARGOT ASKS ADVICE AND RECEIVES IT 175 
 
 1 Of course not,' she said hastily, and just then their tMe-a-tete 
 was broken in upon by Mrs. Eddlestone with the news that Margot 
 was wanted to play off the final set at once, and that Mr. Fanshawe 
 was looking for her everywhere. 
 
 ' Isn't she a dear ? ' exclaimed Mrs. Eddlestone, as if she quite 
 expected Orme to assent. 'Dottie and Pussie and Fay perfectly 
 rave about her. Such a sweet disposition ! Now do come and be 
 introduced to her mother, she's quite somebody to know.' Orme 
 was led up to Mrs. Chadwick, who was on the lawn, and disposed 
 to be more gracious than on their first acquaintance, for she had 
 observed that the vicar's son was not a person to be snubbed. 
 1 "We are having a few friends to dinner to-morrow,' she said in the 
 course of the conversation, ' could you forgive such a very short 
 notice and come too ? AVe shall be so delighted to see someone 
 who recalls dear Trouville do say " Yes," if you possibly can ! ' 
 
 Orme said ' Yes ' with some alacrity, and the remainder of the 
 afternoon passed without his being able to gain more than a word 
 or two at parting from Miss Chevening. He walked home in a 
 sort of glamour, possessed by the thought of her. In spite of her 
 disclaimer, he believed that there was little of real selfishness in 
 her nature. She was sorry at heart, he felt certain, for that un- 
 happy Allen anxious for his improvement ; and how submissively 
 she had renounced her plan when he had shown her the objections 
 to it ! Perhaps, after all, he had been wrong in opposing it ; 
 perhaps but here his speculations were cut short by meeting the 
 subject of them. Allen was certainly altered for the worse ; there 
 was a sullen bravado in his manner ; he avoided meeting Nugent' s 
 eyes, and seemed in a hurry to escape. Orme was involuntarily 
 repelled for the moment, but pity prevailed ; if the poor fellow was 
 taking to bad courses he might still be saved ; there was a lok 
 of unhappiness about him that touched Nugent. 
 
 ' No,' said Allen, in answer to his question, ' you didn't see me 
 at Holly Bank, not likely. I keep clear of that kind of start, I do. 
 And another thing, I wasn't asked.' 
 
 ' Well, look here come home with me now and have some 
 dinner. I can send up to Agra House and let them know where 
 you are. My people will be delighted.' 
 
 ' A lot they'll care at home where I am ! ' said Allen ; ' but 
 I won't come, all the same, Orrne. I I promised some chaps I'd 
 look in some time.' 
 
 ' That's nonsense ! ' said Orme. ' Come, you won't refuse to 
 give me an evening. I shan't let you off.' 
 
 Allen submitted at last to be carried off to the Vicarage, where 
 Millicent at least understood her brother's motives, and did her 
 best to make the visitor feel that he was welcome and at home. 
 The dinner passed off rather stiffly at first. Allen was shy and 
 suspicious, and the vicar was lazily and rather condescendingly 
 kind; his wife put on her stateliest airs, and the chief burden 
 of the conversation was borne by the brother and sister, as Allen
 
 176 THE PAEIAH 
 
 could not be induced to utter more than monosyllables. Bat 
 gradually he got over his mauvaise honte, and after dinner, when 
 Millicent was taking him round the garden, he showed signs of 
 recognising her efforts to win his confidence. He made her feel 
 uncomfortable indeed at last by his almost abject gratitude. She 
 sought in her embarrassment to interest him in the village concert 
 that was to come off shortly, and even appealed to him for the 
 name of anyone he might know who would be likely to help an 
 innocent piece of flattery which gave him an unfamiliar sense 
 of importance. It was the happiest evening he had passed for 
 some time, and he was pressed at leaving to come again, with a 
 sincerity that sent him away with a feeling that there was at least 
 one place besides the White Lion or the Barchards' abode where 
 he could count upon a friendly reception. Nugent walked up to 
 the house with him, and took the opportunity to ask him if there 
 was any truth in the rumours he had heard. Allen admitted that 
 he had been in the habit of passing his evenings lately in one of the 
 village inns, and even that he had dropped money at betting. 
 ' Only in a small way, Orme,' he said, ' and the guv'nor pays my 
 allowance regular enough, so I keep right. And the company aro 
 quite respectable they always treat me like a gentleman. You 
 may say what you like, but I must have some sort of society ! ' 
 
 ' I'm not going to preach, my dear fellow,' said Orme, ' biit you 
 heard what the mother and Millicent said just now. You've 
 always the Vicarage to come to. Remember that. I shall see you 
 to-morrow at dinner, if not before Mrs. Chadwick asked me this 
 afternoon.' 
 
 ' I suppose I shall be dining too,' said Allen ; ' and, Orme, if 
 you get a chance, say a good word for me to to her. Tell her 
 I'm not such a downright bad chap as she thinks.' 
 
 ' I don't believe she does think anything of the sort,' said Orme. 
 ' I do know she's distressed by knowing that you are in such 
 indifferent company let her see you mean to drop it.' 
 
 ' She don't care much,' said Allen ; ' at least, I wish I was surer 
 she did but I'll keep steadier, Orme.' And so they parted Orme 
 to walk back, feeling more hopeful of Allen's future. 
 
 Allen found the house locked up for the night, and the door was 
 unfastened by his father, who was fuming. ' I'm not going to have 
 my servants kept up late to let you in from whatever pot-house 
 you've given the honour of your company to. Another tune I'm 
 hanged if 111 sit up myself mind that 1 ' 
 
 ' I didn't know it was late,' said Allen. ' I've only been ' 
 
 ' Don't tell me where you've been ! I want no more lying. 
 I've got my eyes pretty well open by this time. Hold your tongue 
 now, and be off to your bedroom.' 
 
 Allen obeyed. His father would not believe him if he spoke, 
 and, after all, it did not matter he was growing accustomed now 
 to being stormed at. 
 
 When Nugent entered the drawing-room at Agra House the
 
 MARGOT ASKS ADVICE AND RECEIVES IT 177 
 
 next evening he found the other guests assembled, mostly people 
 he knew, and the few minutes before dinner were taken up in 
 exchanging greetings and recognitions. He had just a careless 
 word and a suiile from Margot, and was sent in with one of the 
 latest arrivals, whom he had not met before, an immature young 
 lady whose conversation was restricted to replying ' Yes,' ' No,' and 
 ' Fancy ! ' alternately, with the air of a startled rabbit, which 
 reduced him at last to studying the company. 
 
 There was old Rear-Admiral Stannion, bluff, outspoken, and 
 kindly, with his wife ; Mr. and Mrs. Callarnbore ; young Maltby, 
 the brewer's son ; the leading doctor and his wife, and others not 
 a very formidable gathering in any way, though Chadwick did not 
 seem at ease in his place at the head of the table, it seemed to 
 Nugent. 
 
 Such efforts as he made to entertain his guests on either hand 
 chiefly took the form of cross-questioning them on local subjects. 
 ' Now, how far do you call it from where you live to Gorsecombe ? 
 "What distance do you make it from your place to Closeborough ? 
 "Who's got that big place before you come to the cross-roads on 
 Frogley Heath ? How long have they had it ? ' Orme heard him 
 inquiring, without apparently paying much attention to the answers 
 he received. 
 
 Margot was seated some distance down on the opposite side ; 
 she wore a dress of some delicate shimmering material of palest 
 green, against which the full white throat and slender neck seemed 
 fairer still as she inclined her head with her usual air of stately 
 submission to the conversation of her neighbour, a stout little ma a 
 who was holding forth on the number of unlet farms in the district, 
 and the difficulty of satisfying tenants. 
 
 Allen, Nugent observed, was absent after all, though no one else 
 took any notice of that circumstance. 
 
 Only the sight of Margot kept that dinner from being a weari- 
 ness to Nugent, who had to divide himself between the duties of 
 following Mrs. Callembore's limp commonplaces and endeavouring 
 in vain to get the startled-rabbit young lady to depart from her 
 little formula. 
 
 AVhen the men were left alone, Chadwick moved to the other 
 end, next to the Admiral, who at once began to tackle him on the 
 question of some barbed wire he had put up along his boundaries, 
 whereupon Chadwick showed symptoms of losing his temper. 
 
 ' They're all at me about it,' he was saying. ' Hang it all, 
 Admiral, what business is it of anybody's ? Cruel to children and 
 dogs ! Let 'em keep out of my land, then it's not much to ask. 
 I've had that wire put up, and it shall stay up ! ' 
 
 ' Well,' said the Admiral, ' all I can tell you is that if you insist 
 on keeping such an abominable invention an infernal thing that'll 
 kill all sport if it's allowed to spread yoii'll make yourself devilish 
 unpopular with the county, that's all.' 
 
 ' Do you think I don't know,' said Chadwick, who had had 
 
 X
 
 178 THE PAKIAH 
 
 quite enough wine, ' that if it wasn't for my wife it would be long 
 enough before I saw the inside of any house but my own ? Popu- 
 larity's her business. I mean to manage my own property my own 
 way, and if anybody don't like it they must do the other thing no 
 offence to you, Admiral ! ' 
 
 The Admiral was only restrained by his disgust from very plain 
 speaking indeed, and the proposition to adjourn to the drawing- 
 room came as a relief to all. 
 
 It was some time before Nugent could find any opportunity of 
 approaching Margot. She was the centre of a small group in the 
 further drawing-room, and he had to exercise patience for some 
 time ; but the people who had some distance to go began to take 
 their leave first, and in the general move that followed he found 
 himself near her. 
 
 ' Are you going too ? ' she said. ' You have not a long drive 
 before you.' 
 
 ' I am not going until I have had a few minutes' talk with you 
 if you will let me.' 
 
 ' Why, of course, there has been no opportunity till now, ha3 
 there ? Sit down there, it is quite early ! ' He took the seat she 
 indicated, and she sat down on a couch under a lamp, looking at 
 him with unsuspicious and innocent eyes, which made it difficult 
 for him to begin. 
 
 'I wanted to speak to you,' he said at last, 'about about 
 Allen.' 
 
 She made a little piteous grimace. 'Must we really speak 
 about Allen ? ' she said. ' If you only knew how I want to be 
 amused just now 1 ' 
 
 ' I hope what I am going to say will not amuse you. Since we 
 met yesterday, I have seen him, and learnt a good deal about his 
 position in this house. I thought I should have seen him here 
 to-night.' 
 
 ' I'm sorry you were disappointed. There was no room for him 
 at the table, I suppose, but I can assure you that the conversation 
 did not suffer very much from his absence.' 
 
 ' Yesterday afternoon you seemed anxious to keep him from bad 
 company you speak indifferently enough now.' 
 
 ' You would have nothing to say to my plan, and it is hopeless 
 to keep him out of mischief while he is living here. Why should I 
 trouble myself with what he does and where he goes ? I wish he 
 could manage to tear himself away from his favourite haunts a 
 little earlier, that is all, and then there would not be a scene when 
 he comes in, as there was last night.' 
 
 ' You think he was at his favourite haunts last night ? ' 
 
 ' He was at some horrid place, or he would not have been so 
 late.' 
 
 ' I hope you don't consider the Vicarage comes under that 
 description, because that is where he really was I walked up with 
 him to the gates.'
 
 MARGOT ASKS ADVICE AND RECEIVES IT 179 
 
 1 Oh ! ' said Margot. ' Then I suppose I ought to apologise. 
 How noble of you to have him ! ' 
 
 ' From what he said, I'm afraid he is not much encouraged to 
 epend his evenings at home.' 
 
 ' Well, no ; but it is quite his own fault. His father would not 
 have forbidden him to come into the drawing-room if he had not 
 behaved roughly to my little sister Lettice, though he was 
 thoroughly disgusted with him long before that. And, as for Allen, 
 I really think he is happier left to his own devices. He does not 
 care to be with us in fact, I almost believe he dislikes us all for 
 being here, as if we could help it ! ' 
 
 ' You are mistaken,' said Orme earnestly ; ' you are indeed you 
 would not say so if you had any idea how deeply he feels being 
 practically excluded and kept at a distance.' 
 
 ' I so much prefer him at a distance.' 
 
 1 And, provided that he is kept out of your way, you are careless 
 what pain it may cause him, what temptations he may be exposed 
 to ? Miss Chevening, you do not really mean that ? ' 
 
 ' I don't want him to be pained or tempted,' she said uneasily ; 
 1 but how can I help it ? ' 
 
 ' Surely you could interfere if you would ? You could use your 
 influence to have him re-admitted to this room, you could show 
 him a little encouragement, a little sympathy, now and then ? If 
 he is cut off from any real association with home life, can you 
 wonder if he is driven to find amusement when he can, or if he 
 loses all self-respect and grows reckless ? Things are not very bad 
 as yet : a very little sacrifice of your private prejudices will save 
 him and you will not even make an effort ! ' 
 
 She was listening with lowered eyes, her chin resting in her 
 palm, a certain lingering rebelliousness (for, as we know, Miss 
 Chevening was not inclined to be very submissive while her faults 
 were being pointed out) in the corners of her mouth. She made no 
 answer. 
 
 ' I have offended you ? ' he said. ' I dare say you think I have 
 no business to say all this. Perhaps I am only boring you. I can't 
 help it one must be a bore sometimes when one is in earnest 
 about a thing. I'm in earnest now. I want this poor fellow to 
 have a fair chance of keeping straight in future. Think whatever 
 you choose about me, only try to make things easier for him you 
 will never regret it ! ' 
 
 She shot a swift glance under her lashes at him as he sat there, 
 forgetful of everything just then but the cause he was pleading ; she 
 was not angry, only troubled now by a dim sense of the mastery 
 which, evidently without suspecting it, he was beginning to exert 
 over her will. She disliked Allen as deeply as ever, she did not 
 wish him to frequent the drawing-room as before ; she felt little 
 real sympathy for him but she was anxious to make even this 
 sacrifice rather than lose Nugent's good opinion. 
 
 1 I don't think you are & bore at all,' she said. ' I think yon
 
 180 THE PAEIAH 
 
 make a good advocate. And and I will try to treat him dif- 
 ferently. I will speak to mother about it does that make you any 
 happier ? ' 
 
 ' Much,' he said, his face brightening. ' You will be better than 
 your word, I am sure.' 
 
 ' Don't be too sure ! ' she said gravely. ' My good fits never last 
 very long. But I am sorry if I have been unjust to him. I will 
 try to be kinder, only I don't think you at all know what an effort 
 it will be ! ' 
 
 ' So long as you make it ! ' he said as he rose. ' And you do 
 forgive me for speaking like this ? ' he added. ' I felt I must.' 
 
 ' Not for the first time ! ' she said, smiling ; ' but I forgive you. 
 I don't like being scolded, but I suppose I deserve it you see what 
 a state of meekness you have reduced me to ! ' 
 
 ' I knew she was not really hard-hearted,' he was thinking as 
 he went away that evening. ' She feels more than she cares to 
 show. I made no mistake in appealing to her. How lovely she 
 looked under that lamp ! It's just as well I have only a few days 
 to be here, or else pshaw ! What is the use of being a humbug 
 about it I am in love with her, have been ever since I met her 
 first, but I might as well cry for the moon. Long before I have 
 made money enough to think of telling her, she will have married 
 some fellow in the county. Not that she would be likely to care 
 fcr me in any case. Well, I've done Allen a good turn at any rate 1 ' 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 CARELESS CLEMENCY. 
 
 She Is too kind to be cruel, and too haughty not to pardon 
 Such a man as I 'twere something to be level to her hate. 
 
 Lady Geraldinc's Courtship, 
 
 AFTER having invited Nugent Orme to dinner, Mrs. Chadwick had 
 made the discovery that it would ' quite put out her table ' if Allen 
 were to be one of the party, and to conciliate this fastidious piece 
 of furniture he was given to understand that he was expected to 
 absent himself. 
 
 So, while the dinner party was in progress, he had his dinner 
 brought in to him in the study by Susan, more ostentatiously 
 sympathetic than ever, and ate it alone, to the sound of distant 
 laughter and talk from the dining-room. But, to tell the truth, he 
 was far from thinking this a hardship he hated dinner parties, 
 never knowing either what to talk about or how to eat at them, 
 and now there was the fresh terror that his father might attack him 
 publicly and expose him to general derision. 
 
 ' I made Masterman give me some champagne for you, Mr.
 
 CARELESS CLEMENCY 181 
 
 Allen,' said Susan ; ' all he could spare, and he didn't let me have 
 that without a grumble. I do call it a shame and a scandal, if I 
 was to lose my place the next minute you to be sent out to dine 
 alone, as if you wasn't good enough for the rest of them ! ' 
 
 ' I don't care, Susan. I'd rather eat here than with all those 
 people, for that matter. I don't have to think every minute how 
 I'm behaving.' 
 
 ' Ah,' said Susan, you're one of the soft-shelled kind you let 
 yourself be put upon, so it's no wonder you're took advantage of. 
 But before I'd see myself stood aside to please that high and 
 mighty Miss Margot ' 
 
 ' She had nothing to do with it, so you're mistaken there, 
 Susan 1 ' 
 
 ' P'raps I don't know what I'm talking about, but it so happens 
 that I do. She's as artful as a cockatress, for all her big, innocent 
 eyes, and her face as she thinks so pretty. You'd ha' bin back in 
 the droring-room long ago if it hadn't been for her it's her as 
 don't think you fit to enter her gracious comp'ny, so make no 
 mistake 1 ' 
 
 After Susan had gone, Allen sat pondering was it true ? He 
 couldn't believe it, and yet, if it should be ! He had clung so long 
 to the hope that, in a way, she was not ill-disposed towards him, 
 that in time they would become friends what if he had to contend 
 with a concealed, deep-rooted dislike that nothing he could do 
 would ever soften ? For the moment he felt inclined to give up 
 all his good resolutions, to go out and seek the only solace open to 
 him, but the thought of Millicent and the Vicarage prevailed. He 
 would stay quietly at home that evening, and give no handle for 
 fresh complaint. So he lit his pipe and, finding a volume of an 
 illustrated weekly paper, he turned over the pages until he 
 gradually dropped off to sleep. 
 
 He opened his eyes to find Margot standing before him in the 
 radius of the lamplight, and stared stupidly at first, under the im- 
 pression he was dreaming still, such a resplendent and visionary 
 being did she seem just then in her dainty evening frock. 
 
 She had to conquer a rising disgust ; his appearance just then, 
 in his old tweed coat and dishevelled drowsiness, was not inviting ; 
 the dinner had not been removed, and the room was heavy with 
 the fumes of food and stale tobacco, which offended her senses 
 she drew her own conclusions from the empty champagne bottle 
 on the tray. 'This is the interesting penitent Mr. Orme is so 
 anxious I should help ! ' she thought to herself, with a bitter little 
 smile. All this gave a little severity to her tone when she spoke. 
 ' Allen, do you know that it is quite late ? All the people have 
 gone.' 
 
 ' Have they ? ' he said ; he was awake now, and Susan's words 
 had returned to him. ' Well, Margot, I've kept out of their way, 
 and yours you ought to be satisfied 1 ' 
 
 She saw that his brain was clear enough, and spoke more
 
 182 THE PARIAH 
 
 gently. ' Have I ever said that I wished you to keep out of my 
 way ? It was about that very thing that I came to find you. I 
 have been speaking to your father just now, and he says he never 
 meant to banish you from the drawing-room altogether, and and 
 mother hopes you will come in every evening as yoii used to do.' 
 
 ' Margot,' he said huskily, ' you've done all this for me and 
 when I'd been fancying oh, I'll never forget this, ask me to do 
 anything for you I don't care what, and I'll do it, I will 1 I'm 
 not an ungrateful chap ! ' 
 
 He tried to seize the pendent hand which was near him, but 
 she drew back instinctively. ' Ask you to do something ? ' she 
 said lightly, ' well, then, I ask you not to sit up any longer just 
 now.' 
 
 He went to his room with a heart swelling with adoring grati- 
 tude. Never again would he believe Susan's insinuations ; so far 
 from hating him and wishing to keep him away, Margot had 
 fictually condescended to intercede for him, to get him permission 
 to be more often in her society ! How could he ever do enough 
 for her ? 
 
 On the following Sunday Orme met Margot in the churchyard 
 after service and walked home by her side. ' Allen has told me 
 how good you have been,' he said. ' It was like you ! ' 
 
 The evident approval and admiration in his face gave her a 
 tlirill of pleasure ; she liked him to believe in her in this way, it 
 almost reconciled her to Allen. 
 
 ' You seem to forget,' she said, ' that it was your own sugges- 
 tion.' 
 
 * You were the only person able to carry it out, and now, thanks 
 to you, he is put on his feet again. I don't think you will ever 
 regret what you did.' 
 
 1 Oh, but I do,' she said with her light laugh. ' Don't look dis- 
 gusted ; I only meant that effusive gratitude is rather a bore. I 
 never was meant to be a patron saint, and it makes me feel so very 
 absurd.' 
 
 'You take a delight in pretending to have no sympathy,' he 
 said. I know you better now.' 
 
 ' Do you ? ' she replied a little sadly. ' Ah, I wish I knew 
 myself I ' 
 
 Nugent, in the course of a second visit to Agra House, was able 
 to see that Allen's position in the family was very much improved 
 already. Margot's example had had its influence even on Chad- 
 wick. There was a spice of mockery, perhaps, in her complaisant 
 acceptance of Allen's crude attempts to join in the conversation, 
 but it was not ill-natured, and on several occasions he noticed that 
 she interposed on his behalf it touched him to see the evident 
 gratitude Allen felt for her protection, and the increase it made in 
 his self-respect. He was more convinced than ever of the sweetness 
 and goodness that underlay Miss Chevening's surface pride and 
 waywardness.
 
 CARELESS CLEMENCY 183 
 
 And Margot was trying hard to conquer her deep-seated 
 prejudices, though, perhaps without her knowledge, she was im- 
 pelled by Onne's presence to conform for the time to the ideal she 
 knew he had of her, as we sometimes unconsciously do when in 
 the company of those who, as we may be aware, take us to be 
 better or worse than we really are. 
 
 So Allen had no excuse and no desire now for spending his 
 evenings in Barchard's society; he was often at the Vicarage, 
 where he had a firm friend in Millicent, who employed him, to his 
 delight, in helping in the preparations for the village concert now 
 close at hand. He came over on the morning of the day to inform 
 her complacently that he had engaged a friend of his at Closeborough 
 to come over and sing a rattling clever chap and Allen himself 
 would accompany him on the banjo. Millicent did not like to 
 decline this offer, for fear of hurting his feelings, as he was evi- 
 dently much in earnest about it. ' I've told the schoolmaster ' 
 (who was in charge of the entertainment), 'and he says it'll be all 
 right ; and I say, Miss Orme, don't teU Margot, she don't know I 
 can play the banjo, and I want to surprise her, you see ? ' 
 
 Privately, Millicent doubted whether this accomplishment would 
 excite any rapturous amount of astonishment in Miss Chevening, 
 but she was glad to see this young man interested in anything, 
 and was too kindly in nature to discourage him. The Ormes were 
 popular in the neighbourhood, which caused a number of people to 
 drive in for the concert who would much rather have stayed away. 
 There were others who grumbled at having to dine early, and 
 others still who, professing to think the whole affair a horrid bore, 
 looked forward to it secretly as a social event. At this time of the 
 year life in the country, especially for those who are pining for the 
 London season, is not so full of incident as to prevent even a 
 village concert from being a dissipation in its way, and the pretty 
 Gorsecombe school-rooms were crowded that evening with an 
 audience, afterwards described by the Pineshire Telegraph, with 
 an emphasis intended to be complimentary, as ' one to which, in 
 point both of brilliancy and fashion, we can recall none inferior.' 
 
 In the front seats were ' the gentry ' : Sir Everard and Lady 
 Adela he in a grumpy condition from his early dinner and drive, 
 she with a set determination on her face to be pleased with every- 
 thing beforehand; Miss Hotham, exchanging little handshakes 
 over backs of chairs and across benches, and peering about through 
 a pair of eye-glasses she put up from time to tune ; the old Admiral 
 and his party; Liversedge, rendered more caustic than usual by 
 dyspeptic conditions; the Eddlestones, the Chadwicks, and, in 
 short, le tout Gorsecombe, as a young man who had spent his last 
 Easter in Paris remarked at the time. Behind came the farmers, 
 the local miller, the chemist, and representatives of village trado 
 generally ; then the cottagers and the labourers ; and at the ex- 
 treme back, on raised seats, pot-hatted, red-faced, brilliant in green 
 and orange neckties, and emphatic in the matter of boots, tho
 
 184 THE PARIAH 
 
 hobble -de -hoy dom of that village arid one or two adjoining it had 
 assembled. In spite of the mottoes and decorations, the interior 
 had the severity, partly scholastic, partly ecclesiastical, character- 
 istic of such places, with the drab walls, the educational diagrams, 
 the black, glistening squares of the windows. The atmosphere 
 was somewhat strongly agricultural, though dominated by the 
 paraffin lamps. 
 
 The programme was as varied as usual. The choir children 
 huddled together on the platform with wondering round eyes, and 
 sang nursery quadrilles under Millicent's direction. Then the 
 village butcher roared a bass song in praise of cricket, with no 
 discoverable tune in it, after which Miss Pussie Eddlestone recited 
 ' Maud Muller ' as young ladies generally do recite this favourite 
 piece that is, with a lingering tenderness on all the least important 
 words. The amount of pathos she threw into the ' small tin cup ' 
 was remarkable as an instance of misdirected energy, and she did 
 considerably more than justice to the ' innocent surprise ' of Miss 
 Muller's eyes. As a second piece, she gave a piece of anonymous 
 American sentiment called ' Pappa's Letter,' and the more impres- 
 sionable part of Gorsecombe wept profusely over the little boy 
 whose mother pasted a stamp in sport amid the waves of golden 
 light on her little boy's forehead, and who was run over by a 
 waggon and killed in consequence. ' She has so much feeling ! ' 
 Mrs. Eddlestone whispered, beaming with complacency. ' Dear 
 Pussie, she will be dreadfully knocked up to-morrow ! ' As a cor- 
 rective there came a comic conjuring entertainment by Mr. Cal- 
 lembore, and after that Mr. Fanshawe sang a Bedouin love-song, 
 the effect of which was a little marred by his accompanist handing 
 him between the verses one of the candles from the piano to be 
 re-lighted. The poor curate, too flurried to understand this, stood 
 clasping the candlestick throughout the next verse, thereby 
 destroying much of the effect of its passionate refrain 
 
 Till the stars grow o-old ! 
 And the moon is co-old ! 
 
 However, Gorsecombe saw nothing ridiculous about it, so it 
 was of no consequence. Then Margot's tiirn came ; she had chosen 
 the pretty old ballad of ' Barbara Allen.' Her clear sweet voice 
 made every line tell. She might have been Barbara herself, care- 
 less, perverse, incredulous, as she came to the scene by the death- 
 bed, with such brilliant heartlessness did the cruel little speeches 
 fall from her lips. One at least of her hearers felt a strange pain 
 as he listened, as if it were real, and he compelled to witness her 
 cruelty. For the moment, as she stood there in her proud young 
 beauty, her face partly in shadow, and the light from the rather 
 smoky little metal lamps behind falling softly on the outline of her 
 dusky crown, Nugent Orme was wondering if this strangely be- 
 witching girl belied her real nature as much as he had tried to 
 believe. But she sang the last verses with ft tenderness that re
 
 CARELESS CLEMENCY 185 
 
 assured him, that for the rest of the audience turned the current of 
 sympathy back again to remorseful Barbara dying of her tardily 
 awakened passion. There was a little hush as her voice died away 
 at the end, and then came a storm of applause. She had to sing 
 again before she could return to her seat at her mother's side, and 
 soon a little folded paper was passed to her. It was from Joceline 
 Hotham. ' Don't run away before the end,' she read, ' Mamma is 
 so anxious to know you. How delightfully you sing ! ' 
 
 Mrs. Chadwick read the note too, and with an elation she found 
 it hard to repress. The Hothams were the people she had most 
 desired to know, the only people who had taken no notice of her. 
 Lady Adela was evidently attracted by Margot ; this introduction 
 could hardly fail to lead to an acquaintance sooner or later. AYith 
 Hawleigh Court open to her, Mrs. Chadwick felt that she could 
 more easily bear all that she found disagreeable in her home life. 
 She handed the note back ^to her daughter. ' I've no doubt we 
 shall meet them as we come out,' she said, with a voice that tried 
 to be unconcerned. 
 
 The entertainment proceeded with a reading by a literary young 
 carpenter, who selected the chapter on the condemned cell from 
 ' Sketches by Boz,' a work which he had recently discovered at the 
 Book Club. He read with much power, dwelling with harrowing 
 force upon the ' h ' in each hour that remained to the unhappy 
 convict. Then the schoolmaster, who conducted the proceedings, 
 announced ' A comic song by Mr. Bilkins, accompanied by Mr. 
 Allen Chadwick not on the programme.' 
 
 Mrs. Chadwick glanced interrogatively at Margot, who returned 
 the look by one of amused disclaimer. But amusement turned to 
 dismay when Allen and his friend appeared on the platform arrayed 
 in the costume of what used to be known as ' Ethiopian serenaders.' 
 Poor Allen sneaked in, looking miserable under his lamp-black, and 
 began to try the strings of his banjo with hot, limp fingers, evi- 
 dently unaware that it was out of tune. Mr. Bilkins was a rather 
 rowdy young solicitor's clerk from Closeborough, whose acquaint- 
 ance Allen had made at the bar of the ' Crown ' in that city ; he 
 swaggered on with perfect ease, and began a dialogue in the dialect 
 of the stage nigger with Allen, who supported him very indifferently. 
 The dialogue and the little mannerisms in which Bilkins indulged 
 were by no means in the best taste, and a kind of shiver began to 
 run through the front benches before many sentences were ex- 
 changed. The fact was that Bilkins had been stimulated by Bob 
 Barchard (who was actuated partly by love of mischief and partly 
 by finding Allen less disposed for his society) ' not to mind the 
 swells and make it as lively as he could.' Allen's own part was 
 confined to thrumming a simple accompaniment and walking 
 round his chair between the verses, and, though his own taste was 
 none of the most refined, he was struck himself by the unsuitability 
 of some of the verses to that audience they had never sounded 
 quite so vulgar before. He felt more and more uncomfortable, in
 
 186 THE PARIAH 
 
 spite of tho frantic applause from the back benches, but he could 
 not back out of it now. It was fortunate for him that he could see 
 no one in the audience at all distinctly, or the kind of scandalised 
 bristle observable in some quarters would not have rendered him 
 more at his ease. Chadwick alone in the front seats was amused 
 by the performance ; he was delighted, even with Allen. ' He's 
 really not bad,' he chuckled to his wife, ' not bad at all. I never 
 thought the fellow had it in him.' Mrs. Chadwick made no reply 
 she was too angry. That her husband should actually be blind 
 to the enormity of this last outrage was only a fresh proof, if that 
 were needed, of the disparity between them. Margot accepted the 
 exhibition with resigned contempt, she tried to feel that she was 
 not involved in it personally ; what was it to her if this wretched 
 boy chose to make a fool of himself publicly ? The poor vicar was, 
 after all, the greatest sufferer ; a lazy, shy, and kind-hearted man, 
 he did not like to stop the performance unless it became absolutely 
 necessary, and so he sat fidgeting nervously until it was over, and 
 a repetition was being demanded vociferously from the rear. Then 
 he could stand no more, and rose, holding up his hand for silence. 
 ' I think,' he said, ' as our programme is already long, it had better 
 not be interrupted by by anything that this is hardly a fitting 
 place for. I don't wish to say more, if I am understood.' 
 
 1 Set o' muffs ! ' said Bilkins in the retiring-room. ' Why, I had 
 the patter straight from the original nigger who came down to the 
 ' Accordion ' starring, and, as for the song, you could sing it to a 
 Sunday-school almost. Well, we made 'em sit up, old fellow ! ' 
 
 ' I wish I'd known you were going to sing that one,' said Allen 
 gloomily, ' I could have told you they wouldn't see the jokes in it.' 
 
 ' It will not be very pleasant,' Margot was saying at the same 
 time to her mother, ' to have to go up and speak to Lady Adela 
 after this ! ' 
 
 Mrs. Chadwick glanced towards the seats occupied by the 
 Hotham party they were empty. ' You are spared the ordeal, my 
 dear,' she said, and her face showed how difficult she found it to 
 control her rage and disappointment. ' As I expected, the refined 
 humour of that last performance has been too much for them.' 
 
 As Nugent said good-bye to Margot, for he was going up to 
 chambers the next morning, she remarked, ' I suppose even you 
 were surprised at my gifted step-brother's triumph this evening 
 are you not going to congratulate us ? ' 
 
 ' I can't think what possessed him,' he replied with a disgust he 
 could not hide; 'it was a silly, vulgar business. I wish I had 
 known of it beforehand.' 
 
 ' He is a pleasant person,' she said gravely, ' so full of hidden 
 talents ; this evening quite repays me for trying to be good-natured, 
 does it not ? Ought I not to feel encouraged to persevere ? ' 
 
 Orme felt rather foolish, and chafed under it. ' I won't say 
 anything I can't,' he said ; ' only I am sorry for him and and 
 others. Good-bye, Miss Chevening.'
 
 CAKELESS CLEMENCY 187 
 
 Margot was driving with her mother two or three days after 
 the concert, and the conversation fell, as it often did now, on the 
 intolerable gene of Allen's presence in the drawing-room night after 
 night. ' I don't want to reproach you, sweetest,' said Mrs. Chad- 
 wick, ' but I quite counted upon having our evenings at least free 
 from hun, and suddenly, for no conceivable reason that I can see, 
 you pleaded for him to come back again. I couldn't oppose it very 
 well, but it was a mistake. 1 
 
 ' It was, dear,' said Margot wearily ; ' I admit it. I will never 
 do a disinterested thing again. Oh, that concert ! ' 
 
 ' Don't talk of it. I should not be surprised no, I should not 
 if people were to suppose we were in the secret of that terrible 
 performance of those two creatures ! ' 
 
 ' He actually proposed to bring Mr. Bilkins up and introduce 
 him, burnt cork and all, at the end,' said Margot. ' I told him that 
 I might astonish Mr. Bilkins if he dared to do anything of the kind. 
 But surely people will not make us accountable for Allen's 
 behaviour ? ' 
 
 ' You saw how the Hothams behaved ; depend upon it, this will 
 go all over the county ; no one will spoil the story by being too 
 precise about his relationship to us ; we shall be fortunate if we are 
 not represented as dancing a family breakdown with blackened 
 faces ! And as long as he lives here we shall be in constant dread 
 of being disgraced and humiliated from time to time. How can 
 we expect people to keep up any relations with us ? We shall be 
 cut, I know we shall be cut before very long ! If his father could 
 only have been induced to send him out just for a year or two, to 
 gain experience on that plantation of his in Bengal, what a good 
 thing it would have been 1 ' 
 
 ' But can't he ? ' 
 
 ' I did suggest it. I am sure, for Allen's sake, it would be so 
 wise, but your step-father wouldn't hear of it ; he means to sell the 
 plantation, or "concern," as he calls it, as soon as he can; he 
 doesn't care about Allen being a planter, he says. I saw it was 
 useless.' 
 
 ' Would he send him to college, mother ? That would be better 
 than nothing.' Margot recalled, as she spoke, Nugent's strong 
 disapproval of such a course ; she knew that she had allowed him, 
 to think her convinced by his arguments. But her patience was 
 at an end. Nugent might be mistaken ; he had almost acknow- 
 ledged as much ; he could not blame her now for suggesting a plan 
 which most people would consider an admirable arrangement for 
 all concerned. Not that she intended to take any prominent part 
 in the affair ; she might leave that to others. 
 
 'If your step-father does not mind the expense, that really 
 might be managed. I'm afraid he would not listen to me, though. 
 I must take the vicar into our confidence and coax him to suggest 
 it; it will come so much better from him.' 
 
 And, on the first opportunity, Mrs. Chadwick consulted the Eev.
 
 188 THE PARIAH 
 
 Cyprian Orme on the pain it gave her to see her step-son so unlike 
 other young men. It was not long before the vicar, much to his 
 own surprise, found that he had hit upon the sovereign remedy. 
 ' A University ! ' Mrs. Chadwick had never thought of that. Why, 
 it was the very thing; how very, very clever of dear Mr. Orme! How 
 she wished she had asked his advice earlier ! And would he speak 
 to her husband about it ? He would how could she thank him ! 
 
 The good-humoured, easy-going vicar assented readily enough ; 
 he thought that if anything could put a little polish on that highly 
 objectionable young man, a course of University life was the most 
 likely to succeed. He was a University man himself, as was his 
 son, and had a strong belief in the value of the training. He was 
 agreeably surprised by Mrs. Chadwick's interest in her step-son ; 
 he thought her a very charming and warm-hearted woman. 
 Whether Allen was a fit person to succeed or even hold his own in 
 college society, he did not trouble himself to reflect ; in fact, he was 
 soon enamoured of an idea which he was already firmly persuaded 
 was his own. 
 
 When he broached the subject to Chadwick, he found him not 
 indisposed to consider it, for Mrs. Chadwick had carefully paved 
 the way beforehand. Chadwick was rather attracted by the idea 
 of sending his son to a University ; it went some way to soothe him 
 for past disappointment. ' I thought they had to be sent up 
 young ? ' he said. ' Alien's not far off his twenty-second birthday ; 
 but, if you say it can be managed, why, it might be worth thinking 
 about. How am I to set about it ? Can they take him now, and 
 when had he better go ? ' 
 
 This was a point that the vicar declared himself less competent 
 to decide; his own college, Balliol, was unsuitable for obvious 
 reasons. Allen must, he thought, go somewhere where the stan- 
 dard of admission was less exacting. He had lost touch with his 
 Alma Mater of late, and knew little of the present regulations at 
 other colleges. ' I tell you what," he said, ' I'll get Fanshawe to 
 find out for you ; he's not long from Cambridge, and he's sure to 
 know all about it yes, I'll speak to Fanshawe.' 
 
 Having spoken to his curate and transferred the whole respon- 
 Bibility to him, the vicar dismissed the affair from his mind with a 
 good conscience. 
 
 Fanshawe warmly recommended his own college. It was small 
 and snug, and stood high in public estimation ; he took the oppor- 
 tunity of mentioning some titled and distinguished members, all, it 
 appeared, personal friends of his own, who were up with him. He 
 undertook to make all necessary inquiries at once. ' As for 
 entrance,' he said, ' it isn't much of an exam. They don't make a 
 point of your being a classical or mathematical swell. Of course, 
 if your son has got a trifle rusty in his subjects, he might read up 
 for them between this and October. I know a man who would 
 read with him ripping clever fellow he was he'll take care your 
 son gets through.'
 
 CARELESS CLEMENC* 189 
 
 Chadwick by this time was bent on making an undergraduate 
 of Allen. He was necessarily dependent on the advice of these 
 who were better acquainted than he with college formalities. The 
 preliminaries were arranged by Fanshawe, who also, with some 
 natural satisfaction at being able to do an old friend a good turn 
 inexpensively, communicated with a Mr. Melladew, a man of his 
 own year and college. 
 
 Mr. Melladew, having no better engagement just then, readily 
 accepted the post of resident coach to Allen Chadwick, who saw all 
 these arrangements made for him with bewilderment, and yet a 
 secret expansion. If he really were to go to Cambridge to be a 
 member of an ancient college, like Nugent, would not Margot think 
 more of him when he came back ? He was not clever, he knew, 
 but he might succeed at Cambridge ; was not Cambridge mathe- 
 matical, and had he not always had a turn for arithmetic ? Buoyed 
 up by hopes of this vague kind, he refrained from raising objections, 
 to which, indeed, his father would have been in no mood to listen 
 with patience. 
 
 CHAPTEE VIII. 
 
 PRIVATE TUITION. 
 Les personnes faibles ne peuvent etre sincfcres. La Rochefoucauld. 
 
 ' HENNIE,' said Ida suddenly, a day or two after the arrival of the 
 new tutor, ' will Mr. Melladew stay here long, do you think ? ' 
 
 She and Miss Henderson were alone in the schoolroom together, 
 and Ida was supposed to be occupied in translating Moliere. 
 
 ' I'm sure I can't tell you,' said the governess. ' We have been 
 at least an hour over this one scene, Ida ! ' 
 
 ' It is such nonsense ! ' declared Ida ; ' now isn't it, Hennie ? 
 Listen to this : " The Muphti " (chanting and dancing) " Ha la ba, 
 ba la chou, ba la ba, ba la da ! " I do think the " Bourgeois Gentil- 
 homme " is the silliest rubbish ! ' 
 
 ' I should not say it was silly, exactly,' pronounced the gover- 
 ness, with the enlightenment of a superior mind ; ' it is certainly 
 peculiar in parts, but we must always remember, Ida, that popular 
 taste was very different in those days. Every properly-educated 
 girl is expected to have read at least one comedy of Moliere's ! ' 
 
 I If such stuff as this is education ! ' said Ida, disgustedly. ' But 
 don't let's begin ha-la-ba-ing again just yet, Hennie ; we've lots of 
 time. I'm in a talking humour this afternoon. Weren't you 
 saying something about Mr. Melladew ? I think he's awfully 
 nice, Hennie, don't you ? ' 
 
 ' He seems to have agreeable manners,' said the governess. 
 
 I 1 wonder what his history is,' pursued Ida, resting her chin
 
 190 THE PARIAH 
 
 comfortably on her folded hands; I'm sure he has one. His eyes 
 have such a mournful look in them sometimes. Perhaps he has 
 lost all his money, Hennie, and has had to come down to 
 teaching ? ' 
 
 ' I am sorry you seem to consider teaching such a degrading 
 occupation.' 
 
 ' Teaching that horrid Allen is you poor dear sensitive Hennie. 
 Did you really think I meant anything else ? How Mr. Melladew 
 must hate it ! He looked so tired when he came into the drawing- 
 room last night ; did you notice how white his hands are ? I like 
 that lazy way he has, as if it was not worth while to take much 
 trouble about anything. He was talking to you quite a long time ; 
 did he tell you much ? ' 
 
 'Really, my dear child, you are very curious to-day what 
 should he tell me ? ' 
 
 ' I mean, did he seem to think he should like being here ? ' 
 
 ' It is rather early for him to form any opinion, and he could 
 hardly tell me in any case.' 
 
 ' No,' said Ida. ' I dare say he has made up his mind not to 
 stop already, though. Did he say anything about about any of 
 us about me ? ' 
 
 ' Good heavens ! no. How could he ? ' 
 
 ' He must have thought me a perfect idiot. I said such stupid 
 things when he spoke to me ha made me feel so shy, Hennie. 
 Oh, well, I am going on with this old Molly.' And Ida began to 
 translate monotonously ' " The Muphti comes back, covered with 
 his turban of ceremony, which is of an immeasurable grossness 
 size, then and garnished with candles lighted in four or five 
 ranks " What r-o-t it all is. Fancy candles in a turban ! Sup- 
 pose Mr. Melladew were to fall desperately in love with with 
 Margot ? ' 
 
 ' Or with you ? ' suggested Miss Henderson ; ' it is quite as 
 likely ! ' 
 
 ' With me ! ' said Ida. ' Why, I'm only a school-girl to him, 
 Hennie ; he won't take any notice of me. I should look quite 
 grown-up, though, if I only had my hair done up like Margot's, 
 instead of this stupid pigtail.' And Ida went to the glass and 
 began to unplait her hair and to twist it up in imitation of Margot's. 
 ' See, Hennie, no one would think me a school-girl if he saw me 
 like this oh, couldn't you get mother to let me keep it up ? It's 
 ever so much more becoming, isn't it now ? 
 
 ' Vain child ! ' said Miss Henderson, her light-lashed eyes scru- 
 tinising Ida's pretty self-conscious face with a growing interest. 
 ' Do you know that I shall really begin to suspect ' 
 
 Ida was upon her in a moment, stopping her mouth with kisses. 
 ' You absurd old Hennie as if I should be such a goose ! Why, 
 of course, I know that's all ridiculous. I should like to know how 
 it feels to have somebody madly in love with one. Isn't it rather 
 amusing no, not that romantic, Hennie ? '
 
 PRIVATE TUITION 191 
 
 ' I can't give any opinion, really,' was the reply, delivered with 
 much primness. 
 
 ' How proper we are ! ' laughed Ida. ' As if we haven't talked it 
 over ever so often. Why, you told me yourself you were engaged 
 once, and broke it off.' 
 
 ' Did I ? You see even a poor little governess has moments 
 when she longs for some sympathy. I have known what it is to be 
 loved, Ida, but that is all over now. My heart,' declared Miss 
 Henderson with a sentimental little sigh, ' is a waste ; love will 
 never bloom there for me again ! ' 
 
 ' You poor darling ! But tell me all about it ; you never have, 
 you know. What was he called ? Was he handsome, was he very 
 much in love ? He must have been you are so pretty, though you 
 are twenty-three ! ' 
 
 ' You remind me,' said Miss Henderson, ' that, whatever my 
 age is, you at least are too young to understand or to be told about 
 these things.' 
 
 ' Why, Hennie,' exclaimed Ida, looking aggrieved, ' I'm seven- 
 teen, and and I'm sure we've talked about being in love often 
 enough for me to understand you are unkind to me to-day ! ' 
 
 But although Miss Henderson did not insist upon confining the 
 conversation to Moliere, nor even discourage a vein of sentiment 
 which both were pretty well accustomed to pursue, she was not to 
 be drawn into particulars. 
 
 While governess and pupil were speculating on love in the 
 abstract, varied, as conscience pricked them from time to time, by 
 spasmodic returns to the classical French comedy, which they were 
 less fitted to appreciate, Mr. Melladew was strolling leisurely down 
 the village on his way to his friend Fanshawe's lodgings. 
 
 Adrian Melladew was the kind of young man who might natu- 
 rally be expected to excite at least a flutter of interest in a romantic 
 school-girl. He was about twenty-four, tall and slim, with dark eyes 
 which he knew how to make expressive, and a mouth that, well- 
 shaped as it was, was not remarkable for firmness. He wore his 
 hair rather long and parted in the middle. He had a pleasant 
 voice and a languid, rather negligent manner. At Cambridge he 
 had played heroines at the A. D. C. with signal success. He had 
 not distinguished himself in any other way, affecting a certain 
 gentle contempt for men who found amusement in violent exercise, 
 and contenting himself with a low second class in the History 
 Tripos. He was popular with the men of his set, played and sang a 
 little, collected blue china, and entertained at his afternoon teas as 
 well as any London hostess. After leaving Cambridge, he had gone 
 up for the Home Civil Service and been appointed to a not over- 
 remunerated post in the Revenue Department, eking out his salary 
 by taking pupils. The monotony and hopelessness of the office had 
 proved too much for him at last ; he had thrown up his appoint- 
 ment in despair, and lived as he could by editing school-books, and 
 acting as deputy lecturer for a friend at a ladies' college. The
 
 192 THE PARIAH 
 
 friend had returned, and, his engagement terminated, Melladew 
 had written to Fanshawe to ask if he knew of anything that would 
 suit him, and this the curate had borne in mind when appealed to 
 by li is vicar. 
 
 Melladew found out the curate's abode, which was in lodgings 
 in one of the little red-brick, semi-detached villas that even Gorse- 
 combe had not escaped from entirely. There were iron railings in 
 front, and a rheumatic rustic porch, with a bed of scarlet geraniums, 
 calceolaria, and lobelia neatly enclosed with flints before the little 
 bay-window. 
 
 He discovered the curate stretched on a sofa with a novel, in a 
 room whose decorative shortcomings were disguised as much as 
 possible by sundry articles that belonged to his undergraduate exist- 
 ence the well-known photographic groups, with the college arms 
 and names of members emblazoned below, carved work, shields, 
 and so on. The shabby little sham-marble mantelpiece was draped 
 with embroidered cloth, and college pewters stood on brackets here 
 and there. Altogether the effect was not unlike the cheaper sort of 
 out-college lodgings. 
 
 ' I could fancy we were back in dear old Cambridge again,' 
 murmured Melladew, as his eye wandered round the room. ' I 
 never expected, though, when we both put on white ties to take our 
 degrees in, that yours would become chronic. You were more 
 coloured than plain in those days, my dear Fanshawe.' 
 
 ' Had to be a curate, or starve,' was the nonchalant answer. 
 ' Felt rather out of it at first. Never forget my first meeting with 
 old Liversedge. I was crossing his land, and, seeing him, I thought 
 it best to apologise. "Don't apologise," he said, looking like some 
 sort of old goat, " I'm one of your lambs, you know ! " I felt a 
 fearful fool. But I'm getting used to it now. They're beginning 
 to see I can sink the parson. And my vicar's a good sort. Now 
 let's hear how you're getting on with these new people.' 
 
 Melladew looked slightly troubled as he passed his hand through 
 his hair : ' Why, that's rather what I came to talk to you about. 
 I'm afraid it won't do. I must give it up.' 
 
 ' Why ? You knew what you were letting yourself in for. I 
 told you your pup was rather a bounder, and old Chadwick quite 
 the bear now didn't I ? ' 
 
 'He is a bear, and the boy's a cub,' said Melladew. 'I can't 
 drive anything into his thick head. He's forgotten all he ever 
 knew, except simple arithmetic, and I'm supposed to teach him 
 algebra, and Latin prose and Greek, and trigonometry) all between 
 this and October it's hopeless, and I'd better tell them so 
 and go.' 
 
 ' Bindles, my dear fellow 1 ' was the curate's inelegant comment. 
 'Sheer bindles.' If he can't learn, that's his affair all the loss 
 work for you ! Why should you throw away a chance like this ? 
 You won't get such a fee everywhere. Don't tell me you're going 
 to do anything so idiotic ! '
 
 PRIVATE TUITION 193 
 
 ' There's another reason,' confessed Melladew. ' Personally I 
 should rather like to stay. Mrs. Chadwick's very civil, and the 
 daughters, as far as I have seen, pretty and agreeable and all 
 that ' 
 
 ' Then, if you'd rather like to stay, what's the objection ? Hang 
 me if I can see it ! ' 
 
 ' Well,' he said reluctantly, ' did I ever tell you that I was 
 once engaged ? It was in my last vac., three years ago now, and 
 there was a girl who used to come and teach my young sister the 
 piano, and I saw a good deal of her, and we corresponded and so on, 
 and I suppose we considered ourselves engaged. Then my people 
 found it out that was after I came down, and they didn't take to 
 her at all. So the governor put his foot down, and said if I married 
 without his consent he wouldn't give me a penny.' 
 
 1 A penny would not have gone far,' interjected the curate. 
 
 'He had the pull over me, because I owed a lot up at Cambridge. 
 I owe some of it still, and I meant to get him to pay the more 
 pressing fellows. What was I to do, you know ? I couldn't marry 
 then, anyhow, so I wrote and broke it off, putting it as gently as I 
 could, and heard no more of it.' 
 
 ' Well out of it, I should say ; but I don't see how ' 
 
 1 Of course you don't till I come to it. Well, my dear Fan- 
 shawe, this girl is the governess to the younger Chevening girls.' 
 
 1 Whew ! That's awkward. What did she do when you 
 met?' 
 
 ' She didn't do much ; she was prepared for it. We met as 
 strangers, but I can see that she hasn't forgotten it, and and it's 
 not very pleasant for me ! ' he concluded plaintively. 
 
 'Well, as long as she understands that it's all over ' 
 
 ' But I'm not sure that I want it to be all over, and and I'm 
 afraid she does. We had a long talk the other evening ; we had to 
 be very guarded, of course, but she let me see that she thought I'd 
 behaved like a brute, and so I have. She's twice as pretty as she 
 used to be when I knew her, Fanshawe.' 
 
 ' Why don't you make up to her again, then ? ' suggested the 
 Kev. Mr. Fanshawe. 
 
 ' I I don't like to,' said Melladew, with a slight shiver at the 
 curate's phrase, which seemed to jar on his refined senses. ' She 
 wouldn't stand that sort of thing now, and besides, look at me. 
 Unless anything happens to the governor, and he's good for any 
 number of years, I'm dependent pretty much on what I can make. 
 He'd cut me off, I know he would, if I married without his consent. 
 And she's fond of dress and extravagance even now. I daren't 
 run the risk of making a fool of myself again.' 
 
 ' Then do as you propose throw up the pup and bolt,' said the 
 curate yawning. 
 
 ' I don't propose that,' was the reply, somewhat irritably spoken, 
 ' I don't want to go if she doesn't make a point of it.' 
 
 'Stay, then; you needn't see any more of her than you can 
 
 o
 
 194 THE PARIAH 
 
 help ; there's room enough for both of you. It's nonsense to throw 
 away a good thing unless you're obliged to.' 
 
 ' So it is,' said Melladew. ' I think you're right, Fanshawe, it 
 would be a pity. And and I can keep out of her way. I don't 
 want to get her into trouble, poor little girl.' 
 
 Perhaps Melladew did not really require much inducement to 
 remain under the roof that sheltered Camilla Henderson. He was 
 fond of confidences, and from his iindergraduate days had been in 
 the habit of consulting Fanehawe in affairs of difficulty, often of his 
 own manufacture. So he remained at Agra House, a course which 
 Miss Henderson seemed very far from resenting. The situation 
 gratified her taste for intrigue and mystery. As far as her shallow 
 nature allowed, she had cared for him, and deeply felt his defection ; 
 she had a sense of triumph now,. in knowing that she might re- 
 establish her power over him if she chose. She intended to punish 
 him a little first, and treated him, when they met, with the most 
 complete indifference, ignoring all his overtures for a reconciliation. 
 By these tactics, however, she effected rather more than she in- 
 tended. Melladew acquiesced, and began to avoid her, considering 
 this, as he was as powerless to marry as ever, the wiser course. It 
 Was ; but it did not suit Miss Henderson, who required the excite- 
 ment of piquing and baffling him, and enjoying his penitent misery. 
 If he would not trust himself near her, the situation would become 
 too stupid ; she might forgive him, but she meant him to purge his 
 offence first. 
 
 He evidently feared to make the first advances, and, owing 
 to her position in the house, she dared not give him any open 
 encouragement to seek her society. But there was Ida, who was 
 already powerfully attracted by the good-looking young tutor she 
 was ready to accept as an ideal hero of romance. Ida, who had 
 shown such a suspicious interest in the French novel Miss Hender- 
 son had selected as a suitable means of improving her accent, ' Le 
 Roman d'un jeune homme pauvre ' not the work, though un- 
 objectionable in itself, which a most discreet person would have 
 chosen under the circumstances. Ida's ill-regulated mind was 
 quite precociously sentimental enough without a stimulant of this 
 kind. Miss Henderson was not troubled with scruples. She 
 meant no harm, but she worked upon and used Ida's school-girl 
 admiration to further her own purposes. She encouraged her to 
 talk constantly about this interesting young man, to pity his hard 
 lot, his melancholy, while she was careful not to betray any senti- 
 ments of her own. ' He looks as if he would be so grateful to be 
 taken more notice of,' she said ; ' he watches you so wistfully 
 sometimes when you're playing tennis, dear. Of course I can't 
 interfere, but I don't think your mother would object if you asked 
 him to take more part in our amusements it would be a real 
 kindness to him.' 
 
 Ida needed no pressing ; on the first opportunity she timidly 
 and with a beating heart asked Melladew if he would join them at
 
 PBIYATE TUITION 195 
 
 tennis, and it soon became an ordinary thing for him to meet and 
 accompany them on various expeditions, or in their outdoor occupa- 
 tions, though always in a more or less unpremeditated manner. 
 
 Ida generally went out alone with the governess, and, as they 
 did not think it necessary to tell Mrs. Chadwick how 7 often a third 
 person formed one of the party, she saw no reason for retracting 
 her confidence in Miss Henderson. For Ida these meetings were 
 full of a perilous bliss. Melladew treated her with a deference that 
 increased her infatuation. She was only a child in his eyes, but he 
 exerted himself to please and interest her by all his arts. It was all 
 meant for Miss Henderson, who was still maintaining her demure 
 reserve, but the poor child did not know that. He tallied to her 
 freely always about himself, and the trials he had had, and the 
 great things he meant to do some day, dropping hints, when he saw 
 that they were not likely to offend, of the burden he found his 
 present pupil. ' I can't tell you what terribly exhausting work it 
 is,' he would say in his pathetic voice. ' I could not possibly 
 endure it but for intervals of peace and rest like these.' 
 
 And Ida felt a deeper indignation against Allen for vexing her 
 hero's soul by his crass stupidity. 
 
 ' Hennie,' she said one day, ' you don't mind Mr. Melladew's 
 coming with us like this, do you ? You were so very stand-off-ish 
 with him this afternoon.' 
 
 ' I don't mind if it gives you pleasure, darling.' 
 
 'You dear, unselfish Hennie! it does give me pleasure. He 
 talks so delightfully, and do you think it is any pleasure to him to 
 come ? ' 
 
 ' I think,' said the governess archly, ' you don't require me to 
 tell you that. Where are your eyes, dear ? ' 
 
 ' He does seem glad when he meets us.' Ida flushed with a 
 shy pleasure. ' Oh, Hennie ! he is so clever and handsome he 
 can't be glad to see me and yet, what else can it be ? ' 
 
 ' Vain little fool ! ' was the governess's inward comment, but 
 what she said was : ' I must leave you to draw your own conclu- 
 sions, darling. He does not honour me with much of his notice, 
 does he ? '. 
 
 ' That's because you are not very nice to him, Hennie,' said the 
 tmsuspecting Ida. ' I'm sure he has a great respect for you ; it's 
 only that he finds it easier to talk to me, I suppose. He does talk 
 to you sometimes, too.' 
 
 ' I must be grateful for small mercies, my dear,' was the 
 answer, with a rather hard little laugh. ' I am perfectly contented.' 
 
 ' Don't be bitter, Hennie. You don't believe in in anyone 
 being sincere now, do you ? But I'm sure Mr. Melladew would 
 be ; he wouldn't say things he didn't mean, like that horrid wretch 
 who treated you so badly ! ' 
 
 ' If you have any love for your poor Hennie,' that young lady 
 entreated quickly, ' don't talk to me of of him. I hope Mr, 
 Melladew will turn out a very different kind of person ! ' 
 
 02
 
 196 THE PAEIAH 
 
 Upon the whole Allen was becoming reconciled to entering 
 University life, though at first he had been very decidedly averse 
 to leaving home. He did not want to go away from where Margot 
 was, especially now that she was beginning to be less distant and 
 abrupt with him. If Cambridge men were like Melladew (whom 
 he loathed), he thought he should not be very happy at college. 
 But he saw that he stood a little higher in his father's estimation 
 than since his disgrace. Chadwick had caught eagerly enough at 
 the idea of making his son an undergraduate ; he had exaggerated 
 notions of the social importance it would bring him to be able to 
 talk of ' his boy at college,' and what it cost him to keep him 
 there, and then his conscience was eased by repairing his early 
 neglect. He even came to believe that, in some unformulated way, 
 Allen would distinguish himself and be a credit to him yet. So, 
 though he never completely recovered his former confidence, he 
 was more genial in his manner to the boy. 
 
 In fact, the prospect of being shortly relieved from his presence 
 had worked a wonderful improvement in the family attitude to 
 him ; particularly as he was closeted for several hours in the day 
 with the tutor, who gave a favourable report of his industry. 
 
 ' How is he getting on, hey ? ' Chadwick would ask at luncheon. 
 ' Making a scholar out of him ? ' 
 
 ' I think,' Melladew would answer, ' he ought to have no diffi- 
 culty in passing in, sir.' 
 
 ' Pass in no. Why, they tell me that's a mere nothing at 
 most colleges ; but you'll have to work when you are in, Allen, 
 mind that ! ' 
 
 But the subjects, though presenting no difficulty to anyone who 
 had passed through the ordinary routine of a public school, seemed 
 to Allen as impossible as the tasks set by some wicked witch in the 
 fairy tales. How was he, with an education of the plainest com- 
 mercial order, and a very imperfect recollection of that, to acquire 
 in four months a working knowledge of two ancient languages, to 
 construe Tacitus and Aristophanes, and turn passages of colloquial 
 English into neat and elegant Greek or Latin prose ? He tried in 
 vain to grapple with the mysteries of the Eton Latin Primer and 
 the Greek Grammar ; his brain was dulled by hopeless attempts to 
 master the simplest propositions of Euclid, or even the meaning 
 and value of the algebraic signs. 
 
 ' It's no use, Mr. Melladew,' he said one day ; ' it's all a muddle 
 to me, and so I tell you straight, I shall never learn ah 1 this 
 rot.' 
 
 ' I'm doing all I can for you,' was the careless answer ; ' you 
 must get as much into that head of yours as you can in the tune, 
 that's all. And, luckily for your chances, they're not as strict as 
 they might be at Margaret Hall. They let in some pretty thick 
 men in my time. Don't you worry yourself, and, look here, I'm 
 going out for a stroll. You read over this chapter on the uses of 
 ov and P.TJ while I'm gone, and see what you make of it. I shan't
 
 PRIVATE TUITION 197 
 
 be away more than an hour or so.' So saying, he leaped lightly 
 out of the window, and disappeared for the rest of the afternoon. 
 
 Much of his teaching was conducted on this principle, but his 
 presence was of very little actual assistance to Allen, who much 
 preferred him away. Mutual concessions were arrived at between 
 them during the hours they had to pass shut up alone together. 
 Allen found his tasks reduced to copying and re-copying certain 
 indispensable mnemonic outlines of Melladew's own invention 
 tips, figures of propositions, arithmetical recipes, and so on, while 
 the tutor smoked and polished triolets. He was loth to leave his 
 present quarters, and consoled his conscience (for he had one, in a 
 rather debilitated condition) by the reflection that, if he was not 
 doing his pupil much good, he was keeping him out of mischief at 
 all events. It was quite possible that he might be received without 
 reference to his attainments at easy-going Margaret Hall ; in any 
 case, Fanshawe was right, there was no sense in quarrelling with 
 one's bread and butter, a form of disagreement which, even in the 
 most contentious breasts, is harder to provoke and easier to recon- 
 cile than most misunderstandings. 
 
 It seemed that the Hothams' hurried departure on the night of 
 the concert was not, after all, caused by anything on the platform. 
 Joceline fluttered up to Margot after church on the following 
 Sunday and explained. ' Hope you didn't think me a wretch the 
 other evening ; but we had to run away, the atmosphere was too 
 dreadful ; poor mamma has not been out since. I hear your 
 brother sang or did something after we left. I didn't know he was 
 clever in that way.' 
 
 ' Nor we,' said Margot, wondering whether this ignorance could 
 be real. ' It's so nice to meet people who can do things,' said 
 Joceline ; ' you sing so exquisitely. Mamma has raved about it 
 ever since. She is coming over to call some day this week.' 
 
 And, what was more, Lady Adela not only did call but actually 
 sent over a groom some days afterwards with an invitation to dine 
 at Hawleigh. Allen was included, but Mrs. Chadwick made 
 excuses for him on the ground that he was studying hard for 
 Cambridge. ' I simply could not enter a room with that dreadful 
 boy behind me,' she told her daughter. 
 
 ' No, dear,' said Margot, ' if we must have our family skeleton, 
 at least we won't drag it out to dinner with us. Thank goodness, 
 he will be at Cambridge very soon now, and perhaps he will be 
 more presentable.' 
 
 At the end of July, Reggie came home from school, greatly to 
 the delight of Lettice, who was sadly in want of a playmate. ' I 
 get on awfully well with the fellows, Lettie,' he informed her com- 
 placently ; ' they know directly whether a chap's a cad or not. 
 NVhat do you think I heard Bigg Major say about me ? he's head 
 of our house, and no end of a swell he really said it, I heard it 
 myself.' 
 
 ' What did he say, Reggie ? '
 
 198 THE PARIAH 
 
 1 Well, it was like this he was with another sixth fellow, and I 
 was passing, and he said, quite out loiid, " Do you know who that 
 fellow is? " And the other fellow said " No"; and then he said, 
 "It's young Chevening, lie's not lialf a bad little squit," ' and 
 Reggie looked as if he expected her to be overwhelmed by this 
 magnificent tribute. 
 
 4 But why aren't you half a bad little squit ? I don't under- 
 stand, Reggie.' 
 
 ' Oh, it's no use telling girls anything ! ' said Reggie disgustedly. 
 ' I thought you'd like to know. Who's that long-haired chap stay- 
 ing here ? ' 
 
 ' Mr. Melladew he's Allen's tutor. Did you know Allen was 
 going to Cambridge ? ' 
 
 ' What's the good of sending him to Cambridge. He'll be a 
 regular smug there that's the word for a cad at Cambridge, you 
 know. I suppose you think he isn't a cad, but then you don't 
 know anything about it, you see.' 
 
 ' I don't like him as much as I did,' Lettice confessed. ' He was 
 not at all kind to me, and I haven't made friends with him yet ; I 
 don't think I shall.' 
 
 October came, and Melladew took Allen up to Cambridge for his 
 matriculation, having been charged to see him through it and pro- 
 vide him with all a newly-fledged undergraduate requires. Ida 
 drew a sigh of profound relief. It was not her last parting with 
 Melladew he was to return when Allen was comfortably settled, 
 Chadwick having prudently left the question of fees until he knew 
 the result. 
 
 ' Hennie,' said Ida, ' he will be back to-day. Oh, do you think 
 he will go away again without ever telling me that he lilies me a 
 little ? I care for him so awfully ! ' 
 
 Miss Henderson felt a certain uneasiness at the sight of the pale 
 face and wistful eyes. She wished she could have broken the 
 truth, but, to prevent Ida from conceiving a dangerous jealousy, it 
 had been necessary to encourage her in her delusion. She herself 
 was still in doubt whether her own schemes would succeed it was 
 too ridiculous that this little chit of a girl should pose as a rival. 
 
 ' You are very young, darling girl,' she said. ' You must be 
 patient and wait, that is all I can say at present.' 
 
 ' He has come ! ' cried Ida springing up. ' I hear wheels on 
 the drive yes, there is the old fly from the station, and he is 
 getting out, and and, oh, Hennie ! what can have happened ? 
 Allen has just got out too ! What does it mean ? ' 
 
 ' It means,' was the answer, ' that Mr. Allen has failed in his 
 examination. How very disagreeable for poor Mr. Melladew 1 '
 
 DIFFERING CODE3 199 
 
 CIIAPTEE IX. 
 
 DIFFERING CODES. 
 
 
 
 Now I thought she was kind 
 
 Only because she was cold. Maud. 
 
 MELLADEW on his arrival had gone at once to the library, where he 
 found Chadwick engaged in examining a report from his agent in 
 Behar. ' So you've got back, hey ? Well, and did you leave him 
 comfortable get him everything he wanted '? ' Chadwick inquired, 
 which made it all the more awkward for Melladew to explain that 
 the tutor of Margaret Hall had declined to receive Allen as a 
 member, and that the luckless youth was under the paternal roof 
 at that moment. 
 
 The ostensible reason for his rejection had been his failure to 
 make anything of the matriculation papers, but the tutors of small 
 colleges are not always inexorable in the matter of scholarship if 
 the candidate seems at all likely to distinguish himself and the 
 college in other fields. It is to be feared that Allen's fate was 
 really decided in the course of a private interview. 
 
 ' When I engaged you,' said Chadwick, ' I looked to you to keep 
 anything of this sort from happening.' 
 
 ' It is very unfortunate, of course,' said Melladew airily. ' I only 
 know I did my best for him.' 
 
 ' Do you mean to say he woiildn't work ? ' 
 
 Melladew shrugged his shoulders. ' I would rather put it down 
 to natural incapacity,' he replied. 
 
 ' Oh, you would ? Just send him in here, will you and come 
 back yourself.' 
 
 When Allen had appeared in all the consciousness of failure, his 
 father began stormily : ' So they've kicked you out, sir ; you can't 
 even pass a trumpery entrance examination that Fanshawe says 
 any schoolboy could go through easily ! It's your infernal unprin- 
 cipled idleness ; you know that it is ! Mr. Melladew, here, tells me he 
 did all he could for you, only you wouldn't work ! ' 
 
 Allen had had a great deal to bear for the last two days ; he was 
 smarting under the sense of deception and injustice, which found 
 utterance at this. 
 
 ' He says that ? ' he broke out thickly. ' He knows better ! I 
 told him again and again it was no use, and I couldn't make head 
 or tail of the beastly things, and he said I needn't try, I should get 
 through all right without troubling. He never took the slightest 
 pains to help me ; he never gave me a civil answer when I asked 
 him to he was always busy with his own writing 1 ' 
 
 ' That's the way you perform your duties, is it, Mr. Melladew ? 
 What have you to say to that ? '
 
 200 THE PARIAH 
 
 ' Only that I undertook what I did not know till later was im- 
 possible.' 
 
 ' And, sooner than give up and lose your money, you went on, 
 and let nie believe everything was going on well, and left him to 
 take his chance ? Thought you'd pocket your money all the same, 
 did you ? Well, you'll find your mistake out, that's all ! You 
 won't get a farthing out of me, Mr. Melladew, without suing for it ; 
 and I shall give my reasons for refusing to pay, too, so you'd better 
 think twice before you go into court. And you'll please to leave 
 this house at once, there's an afternoon train you can just catch.' 
 
 ' I will leave the house certainly,' said Melladew, with as much 
 dignity as he could command, ' and as to the words you are pleased 
 to use, I suppose I must make what allowances I can for a very 
 natural disappointment.' 
 
 He did not take the train, however, but sought shelter with his 
 friend the curate, who consented to put him up for a day or 
 two. 
 
 ' As for you, sir,' said Chadwick to his son when they were alone, 
 ' I begin to see it's no use my taking any pains or going to any 
 expense for you. You're a bad egg ! I've tried to make a gentle- 
 man of you, but you'll never be anything but what I found you. 
 You're a lazy, cowardly hound, that's what you are, and I'll leave 
 you in future to go your own way. I just warn you of this that if 
 I have any more trouble with you, I'll pack you off to India, where 
 you'll be looked after and made to earn your own living. Now you 
 can go 1 ' 
 
 Allen was not long in obeying this fatherly admonition ; he was 
 profoundly miserable at his failure for the first day or two, but by- 
 and-by he began to find a consolatory side to his situation. His 
 brief experience of Cambridge had rather awed him ; the glimpses 
 of manners and pursuits seemed so totally strange to him, the boys 
 with an ease and manliness in their bearing that made him feel 
 enviously inferior, the awakening stir of undergraduate life, with 
 all its contrasts of placid study and active exercise, bewildered 
 rather than attracted him ; he was depressed by the gloom and 
 silence of the stately old colleges, and saw no place for him in either 
 the work or play of the great University. 
 
 Save for the first sharp sting, when the college tutor with a 
 grave kindliness had made him understand that it was not possible 
 for Margaret Hall to admit him, he felt little regret at his exclusion. 
 Now, at least, he would not be separated from Margot ; he even 
 comforted himself with the idea that she would pity his mishap. 
 
 Chadwick soon made his household aware of his latest disap- 
 pointment ; his wife indulged in a few sub-acid comments ; Margot 
 kept silence, though inwardly raging at the defeat of her plan at 
 the moment when it bid fair to succeed. Now she must resign herself 
 as best she could to the constant irritation Allen was to her nerves . 
 she had taken little indeed by disregarding Nugent Orme's advice. 
 Ida shed bitter tears when she was alone with the governess. ' He
 
 DIFFERING CODES 201 
 
 has gone away without a word to me ! Oh, Hennie, he he must 
 mean to write, tell me you think he will ! ' she repeated again and 
 again, and Miss Henderson had to calm her by giving the required 
 assurance. 
 
 The morning after his return, Allen, with no impossible tasks to 
 occupy him now, was wandering listlessly about the house, and 
 presently came upon Margot and Ida, who were filling some vases 
 with autumn foliage, great amber fans of chestnut, and sprays of 
 ruddy beech and crimson bramble, which they were arranging on a 
 table in the hall. 
 
 ' Let me help,' he said, glad of the opportunity to be near 
 Margot, 'I've nothing particular to do.' 
 
 ' You have done quite enough, I think,' said Ida, her pale cheeks 
 reddening with anger ; ' and we don't want your help, do we, 
 Margot ? ' 
 
 1 It's bad enough to have the governor always jawing at me," he 
 remonstrated, ' without your joining in! Margot won't be rough 
 on me, I'm sure ; it isn't as if I could help not getting into 
 Cambridge.' 
 
 'You could help putting all the blame on other people, at 
 least,' said Ida quickly. 
 
 ' I'm not talking to you,' he retorted ; ' we all know whose part 
 you'd take ! ' 
 
 ' Margot thinks just the same as I do that you acted like a 
 sneak ; a horrid, ungentlemanly sneak don't you, Margot ? ' 
 
 Miss Chevening raised her eyes for a moment, and replied, 
 ' Most decidedly I do.' 
 
 A sneak ! This was an aspect of himself which had never oc- 
 curred to him. Why was he a sneak ? he wanted to know ; what 
 had they to say against him ? 
 
 ' You got poor Mr. Melladew turned out of the house, actually 
 turned out in disgrace, because you made your father believe that 
 he took no trouble with you as if you deserved to have any trouble 
 taken with you,' said Ida, the branch she held quivering in her 
 passionate grasp. 
 
 ' It was true,' said Allen, ' he never troubled about me ; he was 
 out half the time he ought to have been with me, and, when he 
 was there, he did nothing. Why was I to take all the blame, and 
 he get off, tell me that, Margot ? ' 
 
 ' There was no reason why you should have done so,' she replied, 
 with a calm disdain ; ' only gentlemen do not act quite in that way, 
 that is all.' 
 
 And she turned away, as if he was really unworthy of serious 
 notice, and began to select her berries and wild-rose haws with 
 leisurely, fair hands. 
 
 This was more than he could bear just then, especially after his 
 hopes of receiving her sympathy. ' Look here, Margot,' he said, 
 ' I don't care what Ida chooses to say or think, but I can't stand 
 your being against me it knocks me over altogether. I I've
 
 202 THE PARIAH 
 
 always tried to get your good opinion, you know I'd do anything to 
 please you I mean it anything. I'll act like a gentleman, if 
 you'll only teach me how. I've not been brought up in such 
 ideas.' 
 
 In his earnestness he had forgotten that Ida was still in the hall, 
 but she recalled him to the fact by a contemptuous laugh. ' I'm 
 afraid you will want a good many lessons ! ' she said, as she carried 
 off one of the finished vases. ' Margot, my dear, I wish you joy of 
 your pupil.' 
 
 Allen sat down at the centre table, on which he leant his elbows. 
 ' Margot,' he pleaded, ' you might look at a chap. If I've acted so 
 bad, tell me what a real gentleman would have done someone 
 like Orme, we'll say.' 
 
 She did not turn her eyes on him as he sat there, but her manner 
 was distinctly gentler as she answered : ' Mr. Orme any gentle- 
 man would have borne anything rather than try to shield him- 
 self at another's expense. Just think how mean it is it's exactly 
 what sneaky little boys say at school. " If you please, sir, So-and-so 
 was as bad as I was ! " Do you really tell me that you don't see 
 anything disgraceful in a defence like that. If you don't, you must 
 be quite hopeless! ' 
 
 ' I do. I do now. I I was so riled at being told I was idle, I 
 said it without thinking. And listen, Margot, I promise faithfully 
 next time I'll act better ; you shall never have to say this of me any 
 more.' 
 
 ' Ah,' she said lightly, ' we shall see when you get another 
 opportunity.' 
 
 She said this with her ambiguous smile as she left the hall. He 
 stood for a moment there, and then went out into the grounds, con- 
 sumed by one burning desire that the opportunity she spoke of 
 might come speedily. 
 
 Melladew's unceremonious dismissal had naturally made him 
 more interesting than ever in Ida's eyes. He was herfpersecuted 
 hero, and she brooded sadly on his sorrows and her own. She had 
 come to believe, with all the fervoiir of a precocious romantic mind, 
 that he was nobly suppressing his attachment to her, that pride 
 alone kept him from speaking. As the days went on and she heard 
 nothing of him, the suspense told on her health and spirits, though 
 she confided in none but Miss Henderson, who was always sym- 
 pathetic and encouraging. 
 
 Ida broke down sometimes when alone, and it was after an out- 
 burst of this kind that Allen entered the schoolroom. ' Go away ! ' 
 she said pettishly, ' this is our room, you have no business here." 
 She was turning her face from the light and drying her eyes 
 furtively as she spoke. 
 
 ' Why, you're crying, I declare ! ' said Allen, with all his cus- 
 tomary tact. 
 
 ' I'm not, then. So would you cry,' retorted Ida, ' if you had 
 " Minna von Barnhelm " to translate.'
 
 DIFFERING CODES 203 
 
 ' That won't go down, Ida. I know who you're crying about 
 it's that tutor chap.' 
 
 ' Allen ! ' cried the girl, startled past all dissembling, ' how did 
 you know ? It's not not true. Why should I cry for Mr. 
 Melladew ? Why do you say such things to me ? ' To find her 
 cherished secret surprised by the detested Allen caused her exquisite 
 humiliation. He was much pleased by his own power of discern- 
 ment. 
 
 ' I've got my eyes open,' he said. ' I know who used to go with 
 you on those walks.' She shrank back. ' You you won't tell 
 mother ! ' she cried. 
 
 ' Ah, that's all you think I'm fit for ! ' he retorted bitterly. It 
 would serve you right if I did, you're always going on at me. 
 Look here, Ida, I'm not such a bad sort, and besides, it's all non- 
 sense, this is. You know he don't think anything about you, and s 
 if he did, he isn't worth your caring for ! ' 
 
 ' You know nothing about it,' said Ida. ' You have no right to 
 speak against him now you have driven him away ! ' 
 
 ' How far away do you suppose he is at this present moment, 
 eh?' 
 
 ' How can I tell ? Miles and miles in London, I dare say.' 
 
 ' Not he he's never left Gorsecombe. He's been hanging about 
 Paddock's Lane most afternoons. I've seen him there.' 
 
 Paddock's Lane was a narrow and unfrequented by-way which 
 skirted the edge of the Agra House grounds. Ida's eyes sparkled. 
 ' Oh, Allen, I'm sorry I spoke like that to you ; tell me all about 
 it. Did he speak to you did he give you any message for for 
 anyone ? ' 
 
 ' Now, what should you expect ? ' asked Allen, unable to forego 
 the amusement of teasing Ida. 
 
 ' I I don't know oh, yes, I know there was a letter for me 
 give it to me, quick ! ' 
 
 ' Well, you're just wrong you see, Miss Ida, for there isn't. He 
 didn't even mention your name. You know,' he said, ' I don't mean 
 it ill-naturedly, I swear I don't, but you'd better give over any 
 notions of that sort, you had really. Why, you're only a little 
 girl ; chaps his age don't think of school-girls in that way ! ' 
 
 He really meant well in his blundering fashion, but she natur- 
 ally did not appreciate his good intentions. ' You say that because 
 you hate me ! ' she sobbed, ' and it's not true, I know it isn't. He 
 does care for me you shall never make me disbelieve in him. I 
 won't listen to another word you say. I'm stopping my ears ! ' 
 
 ' Just as you like,' said Allen, as he moved to the door. ' None 
 are so blind as those that won't listen ! ' He felt unusually epi- 
 grammatic as he left the room. 
 
 Presently Miss Henderson came back. There was a conscious 
 look on her face that did not escape Ida's sharp scrutiny. ' Hennie, 
 where have you been? Why do you leave me alone every after- 
 noon like this ? '
 
 204 THE PARIAH 
 
 ' AYhy, you exacting child, mustn't I leave you alone for a 
 moment ? ' 
 
 1 It was nearly an hour.' 
 
 ' I just ran out for a minute to see if I could find those two 
 tennis-balls. They had rolled under the Wellingtonia, Ida ; now 
 we've got all the twelve. 
 
 4 I don't care about tennis-balls, I want truth, Hennie. You 
 have seen him oh, why do you pretend you haven't '? ' 
 
 ' Him ? Oh, Mr. Melladew. Now, my dear Ida, what an 
 idea ! ' 
 
 4 If you are keeping anything from me, you will break my 
 heart. Why are you so deceitful, Hennie ? It's no use, that horrid 
 Allen saw you,' she said, making a desperate venture. 
 
 Miss Henderson apparently decided that it was safest to admit 
 the fact. 4 You jealous little pussy,' she said affectionately ; 4 I've a 
 good mind to punish you by not telling you a single word. I did 
 see him there ! I shall leave you to fancy why he wanted to see 
 me, and whom our conversation was all about. 1 
 
 4 Oh, Hennie, forgive me, I am so happy. That hateful boy said 
 such things. And so he does think of me ! May I see him to- 
 morrow ? I do want to comfort him so.' 
 
 4 Not for the world, my dear child ! Have you gone quite mad ? 
 He would not hear of such a thing, he is far too high-principled. 
 And, to tell you the truth,' continued Miss Henderson guardedly, 
 'just now he feels a little sore about all this he is so sensitive- 
 he has got it into his head that you all despise him. If you knew 
 the trouble I had to talk him out of it ! No ; you must leave this 
 to me, darling ; indeed, it would not do for you to meet just 
 yet. Besides, he is leaving to-morrow ; his father is dangerously 
 ill.' 
 
 4 May I write to him ? Say I may, Hennie ! ' 
 
 4 Not at present we must run no risks a little note by-and-by, 
 perhaps, slipped in one of mine. Ah, Ida, if we were only away 
 where there were no prying spies to make mischief! You are really 
 looking very unwell. I shall tell your mother what a few weeks at 
 Bournemouth would do for you you have had no sea air this 
 summer, poor child ! ' 
 
 4 And we will get away together ! ' cried Ida eagerly ; ' you and I 
 by our two selves, and if you could let him know, he would come, I 
 know he would, Hennie. You will manage it all, won't you ? There 
 will be no harm if you are there, and I can't live without seeing 
 him.' 
 
 4 Leave everything to me,' said the governess, ' and well we 
 shall see.' 
 
 4 1 am so pleased, dear Margot,' said Mrs. Chadwick one after- 
 noon, some days later, ' it isn't as if it was going to be a tag-rag- 
 and-bobtail dance at Hawleigh ; all the county will be there, and 
 there are sure to be some smart people coming down for it. Only I 
 do wish you had something better to go in. I would telegraph up
 
 DIFFERING CODES 205 
 
 to Clementine to do what she can for you, but there's so little time, 
 and I really can't afford it.' 
 
 ' I shall do very well, dear,' said Margot, calmly ; ' my tulle is 
 almost new.' 
 
 ' You must look as nice as possible. I must see if I can find 
 Borne simple ornament of mine you could wear with it, unless your 
 own are better ? ' 
 
 ' That is very unlikely, mother, because I haven't any well, 
 unless you count that great ugly locket and cable Mr. Chadwick 
 gave me, and I can't wear that. And you know I haven't much 
 money to lay out on trinkets, have I ? ' 
 
 ' I wish I could make you a better allowance, you poor child ; it 
 is a shame you should have no pretty things of your own ; but 
 though I agree that you can't possibly wear the locket, it is quite a 
 valuable one ; I hope you take care of it ? ' 
 
 ' Oh, it's all right,' said Margot lazily. ' It's in one of the drawers 
 of my dressing-table, I believe.' 
 
 ' You shouldn't be so careless ; you ought to lock up everything 
 of that kind.' 
 
 ' It is quite safe where it is.' 
 
 ' Fact is, Margot wouldn't care a hang if it was stolen ! ' said 
 Allen's voice from the arch-way. They were sitting in the dusk, and 
 he had entered the further room unperceived during this conver- 
 sation. 
 
 Mrs. Chadwick started. ' Really, Allen ! ' she remarked, ' I had 
 no idea you were there ; it is so unpleasant to have people coming 
 in in that silent way ; one doesn't feel safe in saying anything.' 
 
 ' Generally you say I make such a row when I come in. You 
 were only talking about this grand ball the Hothams are going to 
 give, weren't you ? I'm going.' 
 
 ' You ! ' exclaimed Margot. 
 
 ' Yes. Father says he won't go ; he had enough of Lady Adela 
 when he dined there, and as I'm invited, he says I can be useful for 
 once. I shan't be in your way, Margot.' 
 
 ' Oh, dear no ! Why shouldn't you go if you want to ? You'll 
 find it rather slow, though, if you don't dance, won't you ? ' 
 
 1 Oh, I shall hop about somehow ; perhaps you won't mind 
 giving me a turn or two, Margot.' 
 
 ' I object to being hopped about with. I think you must look 
 out for a more vigorous partner, Allen.' 
 
 ' If I don't dance with you, I shall dance with nobody.' 
 
 1 How selfish ! Shall you waltz about in solitude, or what ? ' 
 
 ' Now you're chaffing. I don't mind your taking a rise out of 
 me, you always do it good-temperedly.' 
 
 ' I am good-temper personified ; but it was merely curiosity to 
 know how you would manage to pass your time if you don't mean 
 to dance ? ' 
 
 ' I shall get on all right ; don't you fret about me,' was the 
 phlegmatic answer.
 
 206 THE PARIAH 
 
 Miss Henderson had not found it difficult to get Mrs. Chadwick 
 to see that Ida needed a change, though it was less easy to gain 
 Chadwick's approval. 
 
 ' It isn't the money,' he said, ' but I don't notice that she looks 
 any different from her sisters it's all fancy, Selina, or else that 
 Henderson girl wants a change herself.' 
 
 ' Ah,' said Mrs. Chadwick, ' it is easy to see that Ida is not your 
 daughter ! I never hear of your refusing Allen anything.' 
 
 ' There you go ! ' he said ; ' I never said I wouldn't pay, did I ? 
 I've never set lip any distinctions. And as to not refusing Allen, 
 there you're all wrong, as it happens! I told him two days ago 
 he'd have to be content with a smaller allowance in future, and he 
 needn't expect me to pay his debts. If he likes to drive about with 
 a set of riff-raff to race-meetings and pigeon-matches, he may for 
 what I care, but he won't find me supplying him with money to 
 throw away on betting, and so I've told him plainly.' 
 
 ' Well, Joshua, Ida doesn't waste her money in that way, poor 
 child, and she really ought to go.' 
 
 ' Then let her go. Only a fortnight, mind ; that's quite enough 
 to set right anything that's the matter with her.' 
 
 It must be owned that Ida had been looking much brighter and 
 more animated of late a result to which certain messages ex- 
 tracted from Miss Henderson's correspondence had perhaps con- 
 tributed. But the victory was won, and she and the governess 
 were despatched to Bournemouth. 
 
 As the fortnight was near expiring the reports became a little 
 disquieting. Ida was not gaining strength quite so fast, Miss 
 Henderson feared ; it would be cruel to remove her for at least 
 another fortnight. 
 
 Chadwick fumed at this. ' I am sick of this dashed nonsense ! ' 
 he said roughly. ' I don't believe there's anything wrong with the 
 girl all fancy ! If it's necessary, that's another thing ; but how 
 am I to know that it isn't all eyewash ? ' 
 
 ' AVould you mind letting Margot go over for a day or two ? 
 You can trust her to decide whether Ida is really ill or not.' 
 
 ' Well, that's not a bad plan. You can send her if you like. 
 How soon can she go ? ' 
 
 ' As soon as this dance at Hawleigh is over ; she really ought 
 not to miss that, Lady Adela has been so very kind.' 
 
 ' Settle it among yourselves,' said Chadwick ; ' I only want to 
 know where I am.' 
 
 Margot was very ready to go for more reasons than one ; she 
 was anxious about Ida, and was growing more distrustful of the 
 influence the governess had acquired over her. Margot was deeply 
 devoted to Ida, and was more than a little jealous at finding 
 herself no longer foremost in her sister's heart as she had once 
 been. 
 
 The evening fixed for the dance at Hawleigh Court arrived, 
 and Allen was waiting in the hall of Agra House until Margot and
 
 DIFFERING CODES 207 
 
 her mother made their appearance. Margot was the first to come 
 down, and as she came slowly down the stairs, fastening her long 
 gloves, she looked fair enough to turn stronger heads than his. 
 He stood there looking up at her, deprived of words for the 
 moment. She was always beautiful to him, but he thought she 
 seemed more hopelessly far above him than ever ; and yet this 
 was his step-sister ; he saw her every day ; he was going to a ball 
 in her company he felt thrown back into the old state of delight- 
 ful but half-incredulous bewilderment. 
 
 ' Are you criticising ? ' she asked carelessly. 
 
 ' I I was thinking IIQW jolly you looked,' he said stupidly. ' I 
 wish you'd let me button your glove for you, or or something.' 
 
 ' Thank you, I won't trouble you ; I prefer to do all that 
 myself.' She was taking in his appearance with even more than 
 her usual disapproval. Poor Allen was not one of those fortunate 
 persons who appear to advantage in evening dress, and the satis- 
 faction which the last glance at her glass had given her was 
 dashed now by the prospect of appearing in public with such an 
 escort. 
 
 ' What a very remarkable bow ! ' she observed ; ' it looks as if 
 you had been worrying it.' 
 
 ' I can't tie the beastly thing,' he said ; ' will you do it for me, 
 Margot ? ' 
 
 She shook her head. ' I think it has earned the right to be let 
 alone now, poor thing ! ' 
 
 Here Mrs. Chadwick joined them. ' Tell Topham we are 
 ready, please, Masterrnan. Allen, I hope you have a warm coat, 
 because the carriage will not hold three inside with any comfort ; 
 there is plenty of room on the box.' 
 
 So on the box Allen had to go, a circumstance which he had 
 not foreseen ; he had looked forward to the drive in the carriage, 
 with Margot sitting opposite, as the only inducement for going at 
 all, but he did not venture to oppose. his step-mother's decree. 
 
 The night was cold and rather foggy, but Mrs. Chadwick 
 lowersd the window, complaining that she had had a headache all 
 day, and that the ah- would do her good. She would not hear of 
 going back, however, declaring that it was nothing, and would pass 
 oil' us soon as they arrived. It would have needed a very serious 
 indisposition indeed to force Mrs. Chadwick to have the horses' 
 heads turned homewards just then. So a little later they were 
 slackening their pace and taking up their position in the file of 
 vehicles, and the carriage-lamps were lighting up the ivy and 
 rough stonework of the gateway, and casting a desultory glimmer 
 on the trim shrubs and laurels as they drove up to the Court. 
 
 The fine old hall, with its broad staircase and gallery and black 
 and white pavement, was crowded ; the dresses of the women as 
 they passed through making a play of delicate colour amongst the 
 massed greenery and under the grim old suits of armour. 
 
 Margot found that she would not be condemned to a purely
 
 208 THE PABUtt 
 
 contemplative form of enjoyment ; several young squires and 
 younger sons who had recently made the Chadwicks' acquaintance 
 sought her out through the crush, and she very soon had more 
 engagements than could be fulfilled in any one evening. 
 
 Some of her partners, smart young men in much request at big 
 houses at that time of year, who thought dancing a decided bore 
 after shooting all day, found a waltz with Miss Chevening so far 
 from boring as to conceive a very strong desire to repeat the ex- 
 perience. For Margot, her partners were a mere succession of 
 shirt-fronts, they all danced at about the same level of languid 
 excellence, they were insipidly handsome and correctly unenter- 
 taining. She caught herself wishing now and then for a glimpse 
 of Nugent Orme's square keen face in the crowd, but he was 
 abroad, she knew from Millicent, taking evidence on commission 
 for some case he was engaged upon. However, she enjoyed her 
 evening, she liked the very evident admiration she excited, she was 
 not blasee enough to be indifferent to the sensation of circling to 
 that admirable music on that excellent floor ; it was pleasant, too, 
 between the dances to wander along the panelled corridors or sit in 
 the lantern-hung orangery, even if her companion for the time was 
 not particularly interesting. 
 
 So it happened that many dances went by before she noticed 
 that her mother was no longer in the place where she had left her. 
 ' So sorry about your mother, dear Miss Chevening ! ' said Lady 
 Adela ; ' such a pity oh, nothing to be alarmed about a mere 
 fainting-fit. You didn't know ? I suppose she wouldn't let anyone 
 tell you about it.' 
 
 1 Where is she ? let me go to her at once, Lady Adela, please, 1 
 pleaded Margot. 
 
 ' Why, my dear, I expect she is at home by this time ; dear Dr. 
 Seaton thought she had better go as soon as she was able, and very 
 kindly took her home in his own carriage. There is not the least 
 need for you to desert us yet. Your brother will take care of 
 you.' 
 
 ' I think I should like to go at once if I may. If I had only 
 been told, I might have gone with her; I shall be miserable till I 
 know how she is.' 
 
 ' I will send down to have your carriage brought up, then, if you 
 are bent on going,' said Lady Adela, ' but I assure you she was almost 
 herself again when she left.' 
 
 The next thing was to find Allen, and Margot begged her partner 
 to help her in searching for him in the various rooms. ' Not in any 
 of them ! ' said the young man ; ' then, I tell you what, we'll draw 
 the place where the ices and things are wonder we didn't think of 
 that.' There was the usual buffet set out in one of the morning 
 rooms, deserted just now. 
 
 ' No one there ! ' said her partner, ' no one, that is, who looks 
 
 like ' He was always grateful he never finished that sentence, 
 
 for Margot, with a slight flush, said : ' Thank you that is my step-
 
 DIFFERING CODES 209 
 
 brother, and now I really mustn't keep you from your dance any 
 longer.' 
 
 Allen had retired to the buffet some time ago ; he was tired of 
 being wedged and elbowed and politely anathematised by the well- 
 dressed crowd, on whose feet and trains he trod, so, feeling rather 
 forlorn at the prospect of the hours that must pass before he could 
 go home, and the long, cold drive outside, he was consoling himself 
 with champagne, when, at a light touch on his arm, he turned and 
 saw Margot. ' What, you'll give me a dance after all ? ' he cried ; 
 ' all right I'm read}-.' 
 
 When he heard what she wished, he obeyed with alacrity, her 
 mantle and wraps were soon recovered and the carriage brought up, 
 Sir Everard came forward to put her in, and Allen got in after her 
 and took the opposite seat. ' No, I don't want to smoke,' he said, 
 in answer to the suggestion which was all she could venture to 
 make with Sir Everard and a crowd of footmen on the steps; ' I'm 
 coming inside this journey.' 
 
 She felt powerless, in spite of her disinclination for his society, 
 just then ; the door was shut, Sir Everard stepped back, and the 
 carriage rolled off. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE LAST STRAW. 
 
 She should never have looked at me if she meant I should not love her ! 
 
 R> Browning, 
 
 O beautiful creature, what am I 
 That I dare to look her way ? Maud. 
 
 THEY drove on past the long line of waiting carriages, Allen with t 
 glad surprise at his own good fortune. They two were alone 
 together ; the light from the lamps fell faintly on her face, framed 
 in a dainty hood, as she leaned back, her half-closed eyes gleaming 
 through their lashes, her lips slightly parted. The champagne he 
 had taken had been just enough to conquer his usual diffidence, and 
 make him more susceptible to her beauty than he had ever been 
 before. 
 
 ' This is jolly,' he began, ' being alone with you like this ! I 
 hardly ever see you alone now, Margot. You don't mind our being 
 alone together like this, do you ? ' 
 
 ' You might remember,' she said, ' that but for mother's illness 
 we should not be alone like this.' 
 
 ' It was only a faint yoii aren't worrying about that, Margot ? 
 she'll be all right when we get home.' 
 
 ' If only we were there ! ' she exclaimed ; ' I shall be wretched 
 till I know 1 ' 
 
 She looked the more bewitching in her distress he lost his 
 
 p
 
 210 THE PARIAH 
 
 head altogether. Had not Bob Barchard said once that boldness- 
 was the only way to win a woman ? How did he know that she 
 might not have been fond of him all this time ? He felt bold 
 enough to-night to try his luck when would he have a better 
 chance ? 
 
 ' Margot,' he said, ' don't look so unhappy let me comfort 
 you ! ' her eyes were wide open now ' I must tell you,' he went on 
 rapidly, ' I can't bear you to be wretched, because oh, Margot, I 
 love you I've always loved you tell me you like me a little ! ' 
 
 She shrank back into the corner of the carriage. ' You I ' she 
 cried faintly ' oh, you don't know what you are saying you can't 
 it's too absurd ! Allen, have you gone mad ? Let my hands go ! ' 
 
 He had caught her soft hands and held them tight : ' I am mad, 
 if you like,' he said hoarsely, ' I do love you, and whether you 
 like it or not you can't prevent me. I love you, I love you ! ' 
 
 Before she could free herself he had kissed her passionately on 
 the lips, and then, suddenly recovering his senses, recoiled in terror 
 at his own audacity. He had kissed ' fair Eohtraut ' with a ven- 
 geance, but he could not find any reason to congratulate himself 
 upon that just then. 
 
 It was some time before Margot could command her voice. If 
 the gardener's boy had presumed to offer her such an indignity, she 
 could scarcely have been more utterly surprised or felt more deeply 
 humiliated. ' You coward ! ' she said at last, ' how dare you . . . 
 how dare you ! What have I done to deserve this ? ' 
 
 'I I couldn't help myself,' he stammered 'I I don't know 
 what made me do it.' 
 
 ' Pull that check-string at once,' she said imperiously. 
 
 Completely subjugated now, he pulled it without a word ; the 
 carriage stopped as she let down the window. ' Topham, Mr. 
 Allen wishes to sit outside,' she said. 
 
 ' Margot ! ' pleaded Allen, 'I won't ' 
 
 ' You will be kind enough to get out at once,' she said, ' unless you 
 wish me to walk home.' 
 
 He obeyed, and drove home on the box with Topham in a state of 
 mind very far from enviable ; and Margot, as soon as she was safely 
 alone, relieved her feelings in a fit of passionate crying this List 
 shock, coming upon the excitement and her anxiety on her mother's 
 account, had been too much for her overstrung nerves. 
 
 There was no trace of this weakness, however, in Miss Cheven- 
 ing's manner when they arrived, and she questioned Masterman 
 eagerly as to her mother's condition, which absorbed all her 
 thoughts for the moment. Fortunately, what he had to to tell was 
 reassuring: his mistress had instructed him to give Miss Margot her 
 love, and she was much better and would sec her in the morning. 
 Then the butler locked up and retired, leaving Margot and Allen in 
 the hall. She stood there in stately offence ; he looked, as he felt, 
 abject. At last, timidly, as though he feared whether he would bo 
 permitted to render her even this prosaic service, he lighted one of
 
 THE LAST STRAW 211 
 
 the candles, and she took it without looking at him. At another 
 time she would have felt the ridiculous element in the situation, 
 but just then her resentment mastered all sense of humour ; she 
 went upstairs without deigning a word. He followed her humbly, 
 'Margot,' he said in an agitated whisper, ' tell me just this what 
 do you mean to do ? ' 
 
 ' How do I know ? ' she returned over her shoulder. 
 
 ' If my father gets to hear of of this, he's as likely as not to 
 pack me off to India ! ' he said gruffly ; ' he swore he would if I 
 didn't' behave better. Margot, you you won't get ine sent away, 
 will you ? ' 
 
 She was at the head of the staircase now, and faced him with' 
 white cheeks and burning, wrathful eyes. ' Don't speak to me,' she 
 said. ' You had better not for your own sake ! ' And, without another 
 word, she left him, and went down the corridor to her own room. 
 
 How was she to act ? Little as he imagined it, Allen's hint 
 about India had been the very worst plea he could have used. Ah, 
 if he could only be got rid of in that way ! But then her step- 
 father would have to be told ; he was capable of pooh-poohing the 
 whole thing, of making it a subject for his powers of heavy raillery 
 no, the very thought made her hot with shame. If he took it 
 seriously and executed his threat of banishing Allen, she knew that 
 she had little to hope from his discretion, he was not likely to make 
 any secret of the reason. But she felt very certain that he would 
 not consider Allen's conduct a reason for sending him away. By 
 complaining she would only publish and perpetuate an indignity 
 she would willingly forget. 
 
 She found her mother very much her usual self when she went 
 to her room next morning. 
 
 ' So horribly stupid of me to faint like that ! ' she said. ' I've been 
 rather overdone lately. I do hope you weren't frightened, darling; 
 I wouldn't have you told; you see, Dr. Seaton kindly went home 
 with me. It wasn't like leaving you quite alone, was it ? ' 
 
 If Mrs. Chadwick had not so plainly recovered, Margot would 
 have forborne to distress or excite her ; as it was, she could not re- 
 frain. 'If I had been alone, I should have been spared a great 
 deal ! ' she said bitterly. ' Oh, mother, if I tell you, you must never 
 Bpeak of it to to my step-father promise ! ' 
 
 'You may trust me,' said Mrs. Chadwick,' 'I am not in the 
 habit of telling your step-father of your private affairs tell me.' 
 
 ' It was Allen we were coming home in the carriage, and he 
 he made love to me ! he did indeed, mother he dared to kiss me ! ' 
 
 Mrs. Chadwick drew from Margot the whole story. ' I am as angry 
 as you are, darling, every bit,' she said, when she had heard it all ; 
 ' that wretched boy ! But I agree with you ; we must keep it from 
 your step-father it would be too dreadful if this were to get about ! ' 
 
 'And must I go on living in the same house with him, as if 
 nothing had happened ? ' cried Margot. ' Oh, mother, if only I 
 could leave it or he ! ' 
 
 i- 2
 
 212 THE PAEIAH 
 
 ' Well, you are leaving to-day for a short time, and you must 
 have patience for a little while. His father grows more and more 
 disgusted with him every day ; it would take very little to decide 
 him to send him away, but we must wait for a better opportunity 
 than this ; he might only laugh at us, Margot.' 
 
 ' Yes,' said the girl, shivering. ' I know I know. I only told 
 you because oh, how hateful it all is ! If it would only end some- 
 how and soon ! ' 
 
 ' Ah,' said her mother, ' that is too much to hope for.' 
 Margot was to leave for Bournemouth by a mid-day train, so 
 that she had only just time, after a long consultation with her 
 mother, to make her preparations for the journey. She was to 
 travel without a maid, and Miss Henderson had arranged to meet 
 her on her arrival. 
 
 The first person she saw upon the Gorsecombe platform was 
 Allen, who had been hanging about there in a state of miserable 
 uncertainty. She frowned in displeasure as he came up to her ; it 
 was their first meeting that day. 
 
 'It may relieve your mind,' she said contemptuously, 'to hear 
 that your father will know nothing of what happened last night 
 some things are too disagreeable to be told.' 
 
 He could not help betraying his relief. ' God bless you, Margot I ' 
 he said ; ' you shall never regret it never ! And and I wish I 
 had died before offending you like I did ! ' 
 
 ' You were not asked to die your only excuse is that you did 
 not know what you were doing ; now, never speak to me to anyone 
 of this again. Let us both try to forget it.' 
 
 ' Then you forgive me ? ' he said. ' Ah, I don't deserve it. I 
 know I acted like a cad, like a rough brute as I am, but you'll give 
 me a chance some day of showing I'm not ungrateful to those that 
 treat me kindly you'll do that, Margot ? ' 
 ' I make no promises, and here is my train.' 
 She gave him a cold little nod as the train moved on ; there was 
 even a smile on her face, constrained, but still a smile ; he saw the 
 train recede down the line and watched till it was out of sight, then 
 he turned away with a lighter heart. She had forgiven him it 
 was not hopeless yet he was not to be banished from her presence, 
 he might yet wipe out the recollection of last night; he was 
 impatient for her return, when he might begin to win back her 
 favour. 
 
 On her arrival at Bournemouth, Margot found Ida and Miss 
 Henderson established in very comfortable rooms in a villa over- 
 looking the Public Gardens. As far as looks were concerned, Ida 
 seemed quite restored to her usual self, but there seemed a con- 
 straint and a want of cordiality in her manner to her elder sister 
 which wounded Margot deeply, though she was too proud to 
 show it. 
 
 ' There is a very nice bedroom upstairs for you,' she said, 
 'Hennie, will you show Margot her room ? '
 
 THE LAST STRAW 213 
 
 1 For the short time we shall be here, I could have shared your 
 room, Ida.' 
 
 ' No, you couldn't, Margot,' returned Ida quickly, ' unless you 
 want to turn poor Hennie out.' 
 
 ' Indeed,' said Miss Henderson, ' I will move to the other room 
 at once if you would rather share Ida's, Margot.' 
 
 ' You seem in a great hurry to get away from me, Hennie ! ' 
 Baid Ida with a pout. 
 
 ' Oh, pray don't let me disturb you,' said Miss Chevening, biting 
 her lip. ' I will take the upstairs room anything.' 
 
 It was not until the next day that she and Ida had anything 
 approaching an explanation. They were walking together along the 
 sands under the Boscombe cliffs ; it was a bright November morn- 
 ing, with a mild sun and a keen wind, which blew the sea foam like 
 drifting shreds of wool over the sparkling brown sand. Miss Hen- 
 derson had declined to accompany them. ' You will have so much 
 to say to one another,' she had said, and, somewhat to Margot's 
 surprise, Ida had supported this warmly. 
 
 'Let us two go quite alone to-day, Margot,' she had said; 
 1 Hennie wont mind for once ! ' 
 
 Yet, now that Margot and Ida were alone together, Ida's replies 
 were brief, and charged with a resentful antagonism which the elder 
 sister noticed at last. 
 
 ' Considering that you were so anxious for us to be alone to- 
 gether,' she said, 'you don't seem to have much to say to me, Ida ! ' 
 
 Ida stopped and began to prod the soft masses of chocolate and 
 puce clay at the foot of the cliff with her sunshade. ' What is there 
 to say ? ' she asked in a muffled voice. 
 
 ' Don't be a goose, Ida. If I have done anything to offend you, 
 let us have it out now. I can see very well that you are not exactly 
 pleased to have me here.' 
 
 ' Because I know why you've come to take me back with you. 
 You think I am all right again ; perhaps you don't believe there 
 ever was anything the matter with me ? ' 
 
 ' I don't think you are much of an invalid now, dear, at all 
 events ; and, indeed, I am afraid you must make up your mind to 
 return soon,' 
 
 ' How soon ? ' 
 
 ' Well, the day after to-morrow at furthest.' 
 
 ' Margot, I can't, I won't go so soon ! You you don't under- 
 stand how it is ! Oh, let me stay a week only one week ! ' 
 
 ' You have some reason for wanting to stay. Is it anything 
 at home, Ida ? come, can't you trust me ? ' 
 
 ' Is it likely I should want to go back and meet that hateful 
 Allen ? Oh, Margot, he hates me ! You won't believe it because 
 he is always different with you you can manage him, but if you 
 knew how miserable he makes me and it will be worse than 
 ever now it will drive me mad to go back without unless things 
 are better ! '
 
 214 THE PARIAH 
 
 shall be ! ' declared Miss Chevening indignantly ; ' you 
 poor Ida, what you must have suffered ! He is too utterl}' despic- 
 able for you to raind him, but at least I will put a stop to it in 
 future. If I contrive for you to stay just one more week, will you 
 be brave and come back then ? I promise you that he shall not 
 annoy you again, I will answer for that, and perhaps he will not 
 trouble any of us very much longer. Only be a little patient ! ' 
 
 ' A week ! ' cried Ida. ' It is all I want, Margot ; you are a 
 darling, and I am so sorry I was cross to you ! ' 
 
 ' So was I, dear,' said Margot, ' because I can do more for you 
 than all the Camillas in the world if you would only believe it ! ' 
 
 ' I do now ; only don't speak against Hennie, because I can't bear 
 it. Nobody knows what a friend she has been to me nobody, 
 Margot ! And I have been so horribly miserable, dear ! ' 
 
 Margot placed her firm, protecting arm round her sister's slight 
 form, her eyes were very bright and angry as she spoke. ' If I had 
 known ! ' she said, ' but I will find a way to punish him yet, darling; 
 leave it all to rne ! ' 
 
 It never occurred to her that Ida had not stated the real reason 
 for her objection to leave Bournemouth, or that she had exaggerated 
 Allen's clumsy and not ill-natured banter into a vaguely malicious 
 persecution. In her prejudice Miss Chevening was willing to believe 
 everything that was bad against her detested step-brother. He 
 deserved no quarter at her hands, and when her opportunity came, 
 he should receive none. 
 
 So the two sisters came to a better understanding, and 
 Margot returned from her walk possessed by a fierce indignation, in 
 which some personal feeling entered, against her sister's tormentor. 
 ' Is there no way ? ' she asked herself passionately, ' no way to get 
 rid of him ? ' 
 
 Miss Chevening' s meditations, wild and vague as they were, 
 boded little good to the unconscious Allen, who was at that very 
 time consoling himself by the thought that he was forgiven, and 
 preparing by long and patient service to touch at last the heart of 
 his disdainful lady. 
 
 Allen found the days long and blank during Margot's absence 
 at Bournemouth. Without her the one excitement and object of 
 his life was lacking. Of Lettice he saw but little now ; the estrange- 
 ment between them had never been . quite healed, her childish 
 faith in his goodwill had been too sorely shaken, and she obsti- 
 nately declined to return to the old comradeship. And though her 
 lessons were at a standstill, she spent most of her time with her 
 mother. 
 
 His father had taken some shooting in the neighbourhood which 
 kept him from being much at home during the day, rather to Allen's 
 relief, for the return of the hunting season had revived Chadwick's 
 rancour against his son. ' Hounds are to meet at Eamshott Heath 
 at eleven to-day,' he said one morning at breakfast, after glancing 
 at the notice he received as subscriber to the Hunt. Allen judged
 
 THE LAST STRAW 215 
 
 it prudent to make no remark, which irritated his father. ' If 
 you'd had the pluck of a rabbit,' he said bitterly, ' you might have 
 been going with the best of 'em by this time, instead of loafing 
 about doing nothing. It makes me downright sick to see a young 
 fellow of your age with absolutely no idea of amusing himself! ' 
 
 ' It isn't easy to amuse yourself,' said Allen rather sullenly, 
 ' when you're not allowed any money.' 
 
 ' You were allowed money enough to begin with and a pretty 
 use you made of it ! You'll have no more, I can tell you, till you 
 show you're fit to be trusted. I've got too many expenses as it 
 is, without giving you money to be flung into the gutter. But 
 there it's no use troubling about you. I did think once I should 
 make something of 3 T ou, but you've cured me of that long ago go 
 your own way ! ' 
 
 Such speeches as this left Allen with a stubborn sense of ill- 
 usage. \Yas it his fault that he was ill-suited to a country life ? 
 As far as he could, he was trying to mend his ways and avoid bad 
 courses for the future, but he had no means of employing his time 
 except by wandering aimlessly about in all weathers, longing for 
 Margot to come home it was not dull when she was there. 
 
 ' If it wasn't for somebody, Susan,' he said in one of the con- 
 fidential talks which had now become frequent, ' I couldn't stand 
 it. You know who I mean by somebody.' 
 
 Susan's vanity led her to misinterpret him he had never spoken 
 half so plainly before ; he only needed a little encouragement. 
 
 ' I dare say I could give a guess if I chose to try,' she said, with 
 a fairly successful show of indifference. 
 
 ' I thought you must have seen it. And, I say, do you think 
 some day not now, you know I shall have any chance with 
 her do you, Susan ? ' 
 
 ' A girl has her feelings you can't expect to be met half-way. 
 Nor it isn't likely anyone will have much to say to you while you 
 let yourself be treated as a nobody in your father's honse. Still, I 
 may tell you this much you'll never get anything if you don't aak 
 for it.' 
 
 He was disappointingly dense. ' It's no use asking yet,' he said ; 
 'I only wanted to know what you thought, and so long as you say 
 there's some hope, I can wait.' And he turned and left her to 
 extract what comfort she might from this hint of his intentions. 
 
 After all, Susan felt confident that she could induce him to 
 commit himself to an unequivocal declaration whenever she chose. 
 He was a poor creature, it was true ; she did not care for him in the 
 least, but it might be worth her while to gain a hold over him for 
 all that. She was not even sure that she would refuse to marry him, 
 as he was his father would have to do something for them then. 
 
 Allen, little thinking of the hopes he had unwittingly encouraged, 
 was walking aimlessly along the Closeborough road, when he heard 
 wheels behind him, and presently Bob Barchard overtook him and 
 stopped his cart.
 
 216 THE PARIAH 
 
 You'll excuse me for addressing you,' he began, with niock 
 respect, ' you having rather given me the go-by, so to speak, since 
 you took up with going to college, though I did hear tell as that 
 wur all off, too. However, I'm not fit company for a young gentle- 
 man of your quality. I know that you needn't get so red in the 
 face over it neither. What I wanted to see you about was this : 
 I've got something I was to give you when nobody was by. Came 
 a matter of two days ago. I s'pose whoever sent it thought you 
 and me was as thick as thieves still. I've been carrying it about 
 with me ever since, on the chance of running up against you. It's 
 a letter. There you are. Now my part's done unless you'd like 
 to step up and take the reins a bit.' 
 
 But Allen did not accept this invitation as he would once have 
 done. ' No, thanks,' he said awkwardly, as he took the letter, ' I've 
 no time for that to-day.' 
 
 ' Ah,' said Bob, ' you've grown too genteel that's what it is ! 
 Ain't you going to read your love-letter, and see who the young 
 woman is that's gone and got sweet on you ? ' 
 
 ' I'm in no hurry,' returned Allen, who was longing for him to 
 drive on. 
 
 Barchard walked his mare for some time, until he realised that 
 Allen did not intend to gratify his curiosity. ' Well,' he said at 
 length, ' I see you've got grander in your notions lately. We go 
 to the Vicarage now, 'stead o' the White Lion, and we turn up our 
 nose at old friends. Can't say as I shall fret much over that you 
 ain't much loss in the way o' companj-, fur you never had pluck 
 enough for a downright lark. I'm not one to force myself on 
 nobody, I'm not, so I'll leave you to see what's inside o' that billy 
 dooks. Come up, old mare.' 
 
 As soon as he had gone, Allen drew out the envelope and ex- 
 amined it, without immediately breaking the seal that fastened it. 
 It was marked ' Private to be delivered when alone,' in a bold and 
 yet hurried hand that seemed familiar. His heart gave a leap as 
 he tore open the paper and glanced at the signature it came from 
 Margot ! 
 
 . For a moment he almost feared to read this letter the first he 
 had ever had from her. It was wonderful enough that she should 
 write at all did she mean to retract her forgiveness? But no 
 conjecture of his could have prepared him for what he read he 
 had to read and re-read before he could believe his eyes. 
 
 For this was the letter : 
 
 ' Madeira Villa, East ClifE, Bournemouth. 
 
 ' MY DKAR ALLEN, Do you remember saying once that you 
 would do anything for me if I asked you ? You can do something 
 for me now if you only will, something that nobody else can. It 
 is this. I want you, without letting anyone know, to go to my 
 room, and get the locket and chain your father gave me. It is in 
 one of the drawers of my wardrobe. Then sell it ; you said once
 
 THE LAST STRAW 217 
 
 it was worth 15?., but get as much as you can and send the money 
 to M. C., Post Office, Bournemouth. Whatever you do, don't let 
 anyone see you, and send it soon, or it will be no use. You must 
 do this and keep my secret faithfully from everyone. Even to me, 
 I wish you to behave as if this had not happened, and not to speak 
 of this until I give you leave. Remember, I am trusting you. 
 
 * MARGOT. 
 1 P.S. Destroy this.' 
 
 It is difficult to describe the effect this letter had upon Allen. 
 Margot was in some trouble and it was to him she came ! The 
 opportunity he had been longing for had arrived ! What need she 
 could possibly have for obtaining money with all this secrecy, he 
 scarcely allowed himself to speculate. It was enough for him that 
 she had chosen him to do her this service. She should find that 
 she had not made an unwise choice. He was sure he could get the 
 locket without attracting suspicion ; it would not be difficult to take 
 it over to Closeborough and dispose of it there. At least, he was 
 not clever enough to foresee any possible difficulties here, though he 
 would not have shrunk from them if he had.' 
 
 The one redeeming point in his weak and narrow nature was 
 the devotion he felt for Margot. In a moment of excitement, it is 
 true, it had found a coarser expression, but in spite of that one 
 outburst of blundering brutality, the fact remains that his passion 
 was a purer and more disinterested sentiment in the main than 
 might have been expected. 
 
 The letter calmly ignored any risk he might expose himself to 
 by obeying such a request, and if he thought of the danger him- 
 self, it was only to be glad that some amount of courage and pru- 
 dence was necessary. It made her selection of him the greater 
 honour would give him a stronger claim to her gratitude. 
 
 Her gratitude ! the thought of the new and confidential rela- 
 tions that would exist between them henceforth swelled his heart 
 with a delicious joy and pride. He had been looking forward with 
 dread to the time that must pass before he could regain her full 
 confidence, and now she had given him proof that it was restored 
 already. 
 
 W r as he a fool in feeling no hesitation, in entertaining no doubt or 
 suspicion of the motive that might prompt such an appeal ? Per- 
 haps ; but it was at least a folly of which he had no reason to be 
 ashamed.
 
 218 THE PAEIAH 
 
 BOOK IV. 
 
 As that ungentle gull the cuckoo's bird 
 Useth the sparrow. Hen. IV., Pt. 1, a. 3. 
 
 CUCKOO TACTICS. 
 
 CHAPTEE I. 
 
 CIRCUMSTANTIAL EVIDENCE. 
 
 H y a des gens de qui Ton pent ne jamais croire du mal sans 1'avoir vn ; 
 mais il n'y en a point en qui il nous doive surprendre en le voyant. La 
 Rochefoucauld. 
 
 WHEN his first exultation had subsided, Allen set his thoughts to 
 work out the best plan for obtaining the locket without exciting 
 notice. He had no time to lose, and before he had reached home 
 he had already decided that the best hour for his purpose would be 
 as soon after luncheon as possible, when Mrs. Chadwick would be 
 in the drawing-room and all the servants below at dinner. At 
 luncheon both his step-mother and Lettice (his father was away 
 shooting) remarked an unusual preoccupation and nervousness in 
 his manner, which, being a poor dissembler, he had not skill to 
 conceal. ' I don't expect Margot back for some days,' said Mrs. 
 Chadwick in answer to a question. ' Why ? Have you any reason 
 for asking ? ' 
 
 ' Reason ? ' he stammered as if her eyes were reading his secret ; 
 1 no, I I only asked.' And he relapsed into silent confusion for a 
 time, and then tried to open a conversation with Lettice, with a 
 boisterousness which that young lady treated with a grave wonder. 
 
 He waited for some little time after they had left the room, 
 until he might assume that the coast was clear, and then he stole 
 softly upstairs and went down the corridor to Margot's room. At 
 the door he paused in a sort of involuntary reverence, like some 
 barbarian invader on the threshold of a deserted sanctuary ; there 
 was such an air of dainty freshness in this room which seemed 
 impressed strongly with Margot's personality ; he entered almost 
 apologetically, and had to remind himself that he was only carry- 
 ing out her wishes before he could muster courage to begin his 
 search.
 
 CIRCUMSTANTIAL EVIDENCE 219 
 
 Fortune favoured him ; nothing was locked except the ward- 
 robe, and in that the key Avas left ; he pulled out drawer after 
 drawer, forgetting everything in his eagerness, until at last he 
 found the triangular morocco case containing the locket and chain. 
 
 He slipped it into his inside pocket and came out, the first and 
 most difficult part of his task safely and easily accomplished, as he 
 thought, when he heard a little cry of surprise, and saw Lettice, 
 dressed to go out, in her fur- edged cape and broad-brimmed felt 
 hat, standing open-mouthed at the head of the stairs. 
 
 ' Hullo, Lettice ! ' he said, with an awkward attempt to look as 
 if he had been doing nothing unusual ; ' going out ? ' 
 
 ' Presently,' she reph'ed. ' Allen that was Margot's room ! ' 
 
 ' "Well, I know that what of it ? ' 
 
 ' Only what can you want to go in there for ? ' 
 
 ' I was passing, and I thought I'd jiist look in to to see what 
 it was like ; that's ah 1 , Lettie.' 
 
 ' If Margot was here she would be angry she'd think it was 
 very inquisitive of you.' 
 
 ' What the eye don't see the heart don't grieve for ! Margot 
 wouldn't mind, and, anyway, it's not your business, Miss Lettie.' 
 
 ' I know that,' said Lettice ; ' but all the same, Allen,' she added, 
 in the reproving tone she had taken with him of late, ' I don't think 
 it is at all nice of you ! ' 
 
 ' Oh, take a walk ! ' he said, relapsing into street slang in his 
 excitement. 
 
 'I am just going to take a walk,' said Lettice, with dignity. 
 ' Not because you tell me to, though ! ' 
 
 Much offended, Lettice marched into the drawing-room ' Oh 
 my darling ! ' cried her mother, really alarmed, ' have you been 
 upstairs dressing by yourself ? Did you hear anything ? I'm 
 afraid there's a strange man in the house you ought to have 
 waited for Eoberts to come to you. I must ring for Masterman to 
 go up at once ! ' 
 
 ' A strange man, mummy ? ' said Lettice ; ' why do you think 
 there's a strange man here ? ' 
 
 ' Why, because oh, Lettice ! I heard heavy footsteps just over- 
 head in Margot's room no one could have any business there at 
 this time no man, at all events ! ' 
 
 Lettice broke into a gay little laugh. ' You poor nervous 
 mummy, Iww easily yon are frightened ! There's nothing to ring 
 for Masterman about ; he can't bear being disturbed at dinner; it's 
 the only think that ever makes him cross ; he told Eoberts so once. 
 Shall I tell you who it was in Margot's room ? It was only Allen. 
 I saw him coming out.' 
 
 ' Allen ! ' repeated Mrs. Chadwick. ' Did you speak to him, 
 Lettie ; what did he say ? ' 
 
 ' Oh, he only just looked in for a moment to see what it was 
 like. Wasn't it a funny thing to do, though ? ' 
 
 ' It was a great liberty,' said Mrs. Chadwick. ' I dare say he
 
 220 THE PARIAH 
 
 doesn't know any better. I'm glad it wasn't a thief, Lettie. I've 
 such a horror of men entering the house.' 
 
 ' So have I, dear, but only at night. It's so horrid of burglars 
 to put on those hideous masks and frighten people in the dark. It 
 wouldn't matter so much by daylight, so long as they didn't let oft* 
 things.' (Lettice had a vague idea that burglars attired themselves 
 after the fashion of a Fifth-of-November procession, which always 
 caused her secret terrors.) ' Are you going upstairs ? ' 
 
 1 Yes. If you see Allen, tell him not to go out until I have seen 
 him.' 
 
 Now, Mrs. Chadwick had heard those steps Allen not being 
 particularly light-footed for some minutes on the floor overhead ; 
 she also fancied she had made out the sound of opening and 
 shutting drawers, and she was perfectly certain that Allen's declara- 
 tion that he had only glanced in for a moment was untrue. 
 
 She went up to her daughter's room and made a careful search ; 
 the jewel-case was missing, and it was extremely improbable that 
 Margot had taken with her an ornament she disdained. If she 
 could only be certain that her suspicions were correct, if only her 
 husband could be made to see the utter depravity and worth- 
 lessness of that young man why, they might be rid of him at 
 last! 
 
 ' I must be quite certain before I do anything,' she thought ; 
 ' it would be very dangerous to risk making a mistake.' 
 
 Then she went downstairs, asked if Allen had gone out yet, and 
 found him in the library studying the local time table. ' Are you 
 going a journey ? ' she inquired pleasantly. 
 
 ' Not far,' he said. ' I shall be back in time for dinner.' 
 
 ' Where did you think of going ? ' 
 
 ' Only to Closeborough.' He would rather not have told her, 
 but he did not know what else to say. Margot had certainly made 
 a singular choice of a confederate. 
 
 ' To Closeborough ! ' Mrs. Chevening raised her eyebrows. 
 ' Have you any business to do there ? ' (' He has the locket ! ' was 
 her conclusion. ' If I could only be quite sure that bulging thing 
 in his coat is not a cigar-case ! But he has it, I'm sure, and he 
 wants to go over to Closeborough to try to sell it. Shall I let 
 1dm ? ') 
 
 But Mrs. Chadwick had a holy horror of scandal ; she dreaded 
 the publicity that might come if he drew, as he very probably 
 would draw, any suspicion on himself by attempting to sell or pawn 
 the trinket. 
 
 ' What can call you over to Closeborough BO suddenly ? ' she 
 repeated. 
 
 ' Nothing calls me over,' he answered ; ' it's only something to 
 do.' 
 
 1 1 will tell you something better to do,' she said ; ' come for a 
 drive with me. I am going to call on some people ; you needn't 
 come in if you don't wish it, but I can't have you getting into these
 
 CIRCUMSTANTIAL EVIDENCE 221 
 
 solitary habits. If you refuse me, I shall really fancy you have 
 some business you are ashamed of! ' 
 
 "What could he do but abandon all idea of disposing of the locket 
 that day ? He could slip over to-morrow ; perhaps Margot was 
 not in such a very great hurry after all his step-mother had not 
 been so gracious for a long time he consented to accompany her 
 with such alacrity as he could show. 
 
 Mrs. Chadwick left Lettice, her usual companion in Margot'a 
 absence, at home on this afternoon, and was most agreeable during 
 the drive. She told Allen of her fears that a thief had been in the 
 house. ' I am sure I heard drawers being opened,' she said. 
 ' There's only one thing poor Margot has at all worth stealing ; but 
 I must make a thorough search some time this evening to see if it 
 is missing ; it was in one of the wardrobe drawers, I know ! ' 
 
 ' Perhaps,' said Allen, looking away out of the window on his 
 side and speaking with difficulty, ' perhaps she took the locket with 
 her to Bournemouth ? ' 
 
 ' How clever of you to know it was the locket ! What made 
 you think of it ? But you are wrong ; I am sure, quite sure now, 
 that she never took the locket to Bournemouth. Very likely it 
 will turn out to be in her wardrobe all the time ! ' 
 
 ' Oh, yes,' he agreed, with a suspicious eagerness, ' that's where 
 it is, depend on it ! ' And Mrs. Chadwick smiled to herself she 
 saw that her hint had had its designed effect. 
 
 Allen's heart sank at having to undo his work, but he saw no 
 help for it. He must replace the locket now, or Margot's difficul- 
 ties, whatever they were, would be brought to light. How he cursed 
 his own stupidity in having bungled like this he had had his 
 chance of earning her gratitude, and lost it after all ! She would 
 despise him, reproach him for failing her in her need. Perhaps, for 
 want of this money, she might be in serious trouble, and he power- 
 less ! The only article of his own on which he could have raised 
 money, his gold watch, had been stolen a few weeks ago at the 
 Closeborough Autumn Meeting, or he would have sold that sooner 
 than disappoint her trust. 
 
 His thoughts were very gloomy during that drive, in spite of his 
 step-mother's small-talk and evident desire to keep him amused. 
 While she paid short visits at two or three houses in the neighbour- 
 hood, he remained in the brougham, chafing over his forced inac- 
 tivity. If he had only been a little more cautious, he might have 
 been over at Closeborough by that tune ; he might have sent 
 off the proceeds of the locket and chain, whereas now he must 
 take the first opportunity of replacing the case before Mrs. Chadwick 
 made that search she had spoken of. Margot would never believe 
 that he had even tried to help her ; she would think he had been 
 too cowardly or indifferent to make the attempt it was very hard. 
 They did not return until darkness had set in. Chadwick was in 
 his study, where his wife went at once. ' I want your advice, Joshua,* 
 Allen heard her say as she entered, and then the door was closed.
 
 222 THE PARIAH 
 
 She was consulting him about her fears, then. Allen had sense 
 enough to be aware that he must lose no time in putting back that 
 case where he found it. He slipped upstairs and went down the 
 corridor, cautiously enough this time, iintil he reached Margot's 
 door. To his horror, he found the door locked. 
 
 It was quite dark, he had not dared to bring a light, and it was 
 impossible to know whether it was locked from the inside. He 
 could feel that the key was not on his side of the lock. Could any- 
 one be in the room ? If so, who ? He knocked softly, but there 
 was no answer ; he listened, but could hear nothing. He must get 
 into that room and get rid of that case but how '? An idea came 
 to him : the key might not be in the lock ; any other Irey might fit 
 it. He took one from the door of an adjoining room ; it would not 
 fit ; he tried another ; it went in and stuck fast all his efforts could 
 neither move or extract it, and he was afraid to use his full strength 
 for fear of breaking it. 
 
 He grew hot and desperate, insensible to everything now but the 
 necessity of getting that key out at once. When that was done, he 
 would find Susan and see if she had removed the right key. If so, 
 he could persuade her to give it to him on some pretext or other. 
 
 Was that Susan coming upstairs now with the rays of light pre- 
 ceding her ? They shot down the corridor, and, too late to make 
 any attempt at escape, he saw not Susan, but his step-mother, 
 still in her heavily-furred cloak, corning towards him. He was 
 caught ! 
 
 Mrs. Chadwick had locked the door herself and removed the 
 key ; she did not acknowledge to herself in so many words that she 
 intended in doing so to lay a trap for her misguided step-son, to cut 
 him off from all chatice of repairing his error it was an act of pru- 
 dence, nothing more ; a general precaution. 
 
 But she could not help a secret elation at finding her worst sus- 
 picions thus confirmed. He could not have played more foolishly 
 into her hands than by allowing her to find him here. 
 
 She read guilt in his white face, which showed scared and mean 
 and ignoble, as the light fell on it from the hand-lamp she carried. 
 But, for all her certainty that he had the stolen jewel upon him at 
 that moment, she avoided alarming him by any premature avowal 
 of this conviction. ' Were you trying to open that door ? ' she said, 
 as if she saw nothing unusual in such an attempt ; ' it is locked, 
 and I think your father wants to see you in the study at once.' 
 
 Too relieved that she asked no inconvenient questions to think 
 of disobeying this summons, he went down to the study, Mrs. 
 Chadwick following with a suppressed excitement. ' Did you want 
 me, guv'nor ? ' he began. 
 
 ' I ? ' said Chadwick, ' no ; what the devil should I want you 
 for?' 
 
 ' I sent him to you,' said his step-mother from behind, ' because 
 I believe he can tell us something about this missing locket, if he 
 will.'
 
 CIRCUMSTANTIAL EVIDENCE 223 
 
 ' Hang it all ! ' said Chadwick irritably, 'haven't I heard enough 
 about that for one evening ? It's as likely as not she took it with 
 her to Bournemouth. If she didn't, it serves her right for not being 
 more careful. Why can't you wait till this evening ? she'll be home 
 then ! ' 
 
 ' Margot ? At home this evening ! What are you talking about, 
 Joshua ? ' 
 
 ' Didn't I tell you ? You didn't give me a chance j'ou were so 
 full of this business. This came just as I was going out shooting. 
 I put it in my pocket to give you and you put it out of my head.' 
 
 He handed the pink telegraph-form to his wife, who read it 
 aloud. 'Home at 6.45, send carriage. Margot,' she repeated. 
 ' What does it mean ? she was to have stayed till the end of the 
 week.' 
 
 ' You had better ask her when she comes,' said Chadwick ; ' she 
 won't be long now, and it will be time enough to make a fuss about 
 the locket when you hear what she has to say.' 
 
 Allen felt his heart grow lighter. Margot coming back so 
 soon ! That got rid of his worst difficulties ; he could give her back 
 the locket, she could give what explanation she chose, and no one 
 would be any the wiser. 
 
 But Mrs. Chadwick was determined not to lose her opportunity 
 like this. ' Joshua, you must hear me,' she said. ' I am convinced 
 that the locket was stolen and that Allen knows who did it.' 
 
 ' Then let him say, and have done with it,' said Chadwick. 
 ' Here, you, sir, what do you know ? No nonsense, now.' 
 
 Allen felt that he was in a position of extreme difficulty : the 
 one idea in his mind at that moment was a fear of saying anything 
 which might injure Margot ; he knew he was not clever, and 
 decided that his best plan was to say as little as possible. 
 
 ' I don't know anything,' he said. 
 
 ' Joshua, I must tell you what makes me take this this very 
 painfid course. I have just found him trying to unlock Margot's 
 door with a key of his own, for I had taken away the right one. I 
 think he ought to explain what object he had for wishing to get into 
 her room.' 
 
 ' Good God ! Seliua,' cried Chadwick, ' are you trying to make 
 the boy out a thief? Why, according to you, the locket was gone 
 already- how could he be going to steal it ? What do you come to 
 me for with such damned nonsense ? ' 
 
 ' If you will listen to me calmly, you will hear. You ought to 
 know that I should not bring myself to make such a terrible charge 
 as this without some grounds. When I told you that I heard sounds 
 in Margot's room this afternoon, at a time when no one had any 
 business there, I did not mention that Lettice saw Allen leaving 
 the room shortly afterwards. I believe that he took the locket 
 then. That when he found I had my suspicions, he grew afraid. 
 That when I found him at the door just now, he was trying to get 
 in and replace the locket before lie was suspected. Yes, I believe
 
 224 THE PARIAH 
 
 I am as sure as I can be without actually seeing it that he has that 
 locket somewhere about him as he stands there ! If I do him any 
 wrong in saying such things he can very easily prove it. Let him 
 empty his pockets.' 
 
 ' Do you hear, sir ? ' said his father ; ' if this is all a mistake 
 and, by God ! I won't believe it unless I'm forced to it's easy to 
 prove it.' 
 
 ' I didn't steal it and that's the truth ! ' said Allen. ' If you 
 aren't satisfied with that, I can't help it. I'm not going to turn out 
 my pockets.' 
 
 ' You'll not put me off like that,' said his father ; ' you make me 
 believe there's something at the bottom of this. It's no time for 
 Btanding on any rubbishy dignity, I tell you either show your step- 
 mother that she's gone out of her way to suspect you, or, by heaven! 
 I'll have you searched by main force. I will have this cleared up 
 before we're very much older. Come, don't be an obstinate young 
 fool haven't I said I don't suspect you ? But it's gone too far to 
 stop here ! ' 
 
 Searched and Margot's letter still undestroyed ! She would 
 come home to find her secret, whatever it was, disclosed ; she would 
 think he had betrayed her at the first alarm ; she would despise 
 him more than ever, as a coward and traitor as well as a fool ! He 
 dreaded the contempt he knew he would read in those proud hazel 
 eyes, the curt but stinging comments she would make on the way 
 in which he had fulfilled his trust. And then, suddenly, he saw a 
 means of retrieving himself in her eyes yes, he would show her 
 that he even he could act like the truest gentleman, could bear 
 to be accused of theft sooner than save himself at her expense ! 
 Had she not said herself that a gentleman would scorn to save him- 
 self thus? Would she not be grateful to him, even admire him 
 perhaps a little, when she learnt what he had borne for her ? And 
 was not that worth bearing a little temporary disgrace for ? For, 
 of course, it would aU be cleared up when she came back. So he 
 drew the case from his pocket and laid it on the study table. ' You 
 needn't search me,' he said, with an excitement that gave him an 
 air of brazen defiance ; ' if you must have it, there it is ! ' 
 
 The most unlikely persons have their imaginative fits, in which 
 they conceive themselves as they never were or will be, playing to 
 admiration parts for which nature has hopelessly disqualified them, 
 in which the mind avenges itself on the body by calmly ignoring 
 its existence. But Allen perhaps because his imagination was 
 limited had never been able to picture himself as compelling 
 Margot's admiration and remorseful gratitude by any deed of 
 romantic heroism, so that now the opportunity had come, and ho 
 had actually been worthy of it he felt that he had been enabled to 
 bear himself in this utterly unhoped-for manner by some happy 
 accident. 
 
 It may be said that it was a wrong-headed piece of heroism, 
 after all if there is any heroism at all in self-sacrifice with the
 
 CIECUMSTANTIAL EVIDENCE 225 
 
 certainty of a speedy reprieve ; and no doubt a cooler and clearer 
 head than Allen's would have seen some way of preserving Margot's 
 secret without incriminating himself. 
 
 But he saw none ; and, at least, there was nothing insincere or 
 calculating about his action, which was simply an attempt to follow 
 a code of honour which Margot herself had been the first to reveal 
 to him. 
 
 Whatever may be thought of the act itself, whether it be held 
 Quixotism or self-interest in disguise, the fact remains that it re- 
 presented a height far above Allen's ordinary standard of action 
 a height to which nothing but the force of his feelings towards 
 Margot could have impelled him. No wonder if he glanced back 
 with a disproportionate sense of triumph. 
 
 Low as his opinion of Allen had been of late, Chadwick had 
 not really believed him capable of dishonesty until the case was 
 actually produced. But with such ocular proof as that, all further 
 doubt was impossible ; the gradual undermining of his confidence 
 and affection had made it easier now to accept the fact of his son's 
 guilt. He drew in his breath with a sharp hissing sound, expres- 
 sive of disgust and pain too, before he could trust himself to speak. 
 ' Your low company and your fool's extravagance have brought you 
 to this ! ' he said at last, with a low choked utterance. ' A thief ! 
 My God ! that my only son should turn out such a hopeless black- 
 guard as this ! ' 
 
 Allen stood there in dogged silence ; he was not even hurt that 
 his father should accept his guilt so readily ; he was rather glad 
 than otherwise it simplified matters. As to hard words, he was 
 willing to bear much more than that in Margot's service. 
 
 Mrs. Chadwick felt delivered from a great anxiety by Allen's 
 surrender ; her one dread throughout had been that, by some 
 means unknown to her, he had already contrived to disembarrass 
 himself of the case. She felt almost grateful to him, so that she 
 interposed between him and any further torrent of bitter reproaches 
 with which his father might have overwhelmed him. 
 
 ' Let him go now,' she said, ' you are not calm enough just yet 
 to speak to him. Allen, you had better leave us.' 
 
 There was a silence after he had gone, during which Chadwick 
 eat, frowning darkly, with his eyes fixed moodily on the ground, 
 while Mrs. Chadwick stood, one hand resting upon the study 
 mantel-board. 
 
 At last she began : ' I really can't tell you how grieved and 
 shocked I am about this unhappy business, Joshua.' 
 
 He caught the insincere ring, which not all her tact could quite 
 disguise. 
 
 ' Can't you ? ' he said sardonically ; ' in that case it's waste of 
 time to try.' 
 
 She took no notice of this little brutality. ' I want to know 
 what yon think of doing,' she persisted coldly ; ' it can't end here.' 
 
 ' I suppose you want to have the boy charged at quarter 
 
 9
 
 5526 THE PAKIAH 
 
 sessions that would satisfy you, eh ? ' he said, with an irritated 
 twist in his chair. 
 
 ' You have no right to say such things. On the contrary, I am 
 most anxious that this should be kept a secret. No one knows of 
 it except our two selves, and no one must know we cannot have 
 any scandal.' 
 
 ' Do you think I am so proud of having a son a thief that I 
 shall go about telling the whole county ? But there's one person 
 who'll have to be told, and that's your fine Miss Margot she's the 
 principal party concerned, and she ought to be consulted.' 
 
 ' Joshua, why distress her ? You will not have her told ? ' 
 
 ' How do I know whether she isn't mixed up in this, somehow ? ' 
 said Chadwick, purely to annoy his wife, and without any real sus- 
 picion of the kind. 
 
 ' Margot ! Mixed up in this ? ' cried her mother, turning pale. 
 ' How could she be ? But if you insist on her knowing, I will tell 
 her myself. Listen! surely that is the carriage, they are here 
 already. . . . Not a word of this till after dinner, remember, 
 Joshua 1 ' 
 
 Allen, up in his bedroom, heard the wheels too : Margot was 
 here, she would be told the disgrace he was in, and the cause of it 
 and then, ah ! how different their next meeting would be from, any 
 that had gone before ! Her eyes would be soft and kindly for him 
 when she knew all he had gone through. He was sure that sho 
 would be as frank and outspoken in her praise as in her blame. 
 So he beguiled the time by trying to picture to himself how she 
 would look when lie saw her next ; what she would pay and do. 
 Poor fellow ! luckily for him he was no prophet. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 AMATEUR HEROISM. 
 
 Le silence est le parti le plus sur pour celui qui sc d6fie de soi-merao. 
 
 La Hocliefouca-nlil. 
 
 MRS. CHADWICK only reached the hall in time to see the trunks ^ 
 being carried in under Masterman's supervision, and Ida, half sup- 
 ported by Margot, slowly mounting the staircasef She hurried 
 after them and overtook them before they had reached the broad 
 gallery at the top. ' Didn't they tell you I was downstairs ? ' she 
 cried, as she embraced them effusively. 'I was so surprised to 
 get your telegram, Margot ! Ida, my pet, yon are not looking 
 rvs if Bournemouth had agreed with you and where is Miss 
 Henderson ? ' 
 
 At the mention of this name Ida, who had passively submitted 
 to her mother's caresses, broke away suddenly, and presently they' 
 heard her door locked.
 
 AMATEUR HEROISM 227 
 
 1 Ida is not at all herself,' said Margot, answering her mother's 
 mute question. ' She has had a great shock. Camilla has be- 
 haved very badly. It's top long a story to tell on the stairs, but 
 we found a note this morning to say that she had run away to be 
 married to Mr. Melladew. Poor Ida was so devoted to her that she 
 felt it dreadfully she had been kept quite in the dark, it seems. 
 And altogether, mother, I was so uneasy about her that I thought 
 it safer to come home at once.' 
 
 ' You were quite right,' said Mrs. Chad wick, ' she is better at 
 home. That double-faced girl ! And to Mr. Melladew, too ! They 
 scarcely spoke while they were here, as far as I could see.' (Mrs. 
 Chadwick had evidently not troubled herself to observe them very 
 closel}'.) ' However, dear, I am not at all sorry she has dismissed 
 herself I have been making up my mind to tell her she must go, 
 
 for a long while ; nothing but Ida's health She will feel this 
 
 for a little while, no doubt, but it is better so. And now, Margot, 
 come into my room, I have something most important to tell you.' 
 
 ' Not now ! ' pleaded Margot ; ' let me go to Ida first. I am sure 
 she ought not to be left alone.' 
 
 She went to Ida's door and knocked gently; it was some time 
 before she could get any answer, but at last a hard dreary voice 
 came from inside : ' Go away, please, I don't want anything I'm 
 tired.' 
 
 Margot eventually got her to unlock the door. Ida was still 
 dressed, she seemed in a state of half stupor, a dumb misery be- 
 yond tears. Margot was afraid to leave her alone, and at length 
 induced her to come to her own room, which had by this time been 
 unlocked and put in readiness by Mrs. Chadwick's orders. 
 
 Then, still in her travelling dress, she came back to her mother's 
 room. ' Ida is asleep now,' she said. ' I have given her my bed, 
 and I can sleep on the sofa to-night. If she is not better in the 
 morning we must send for Dr. Seaton. She seems quite broken- 
 hearted at Camilla's conduct.' 
 
 ' Ida will get over that, poor child. And I want to tell you 
 what has happened only this afternoon. Margot, only fancy ! that 
 dreadful Allen very nearly succeeded in stealing the locket and 
 chain your step-father gave you. Fortunately I was able to catch 
 him almost in the act.' 
 
 ' Stealing ! ' said Margot slowly, and then she pressed her palms- 
 against her eyes, after a habit of hers when she was trying to grasp 
 a new idea. Presently she withdrew her hands, and her eyes con- 
 tradicted the assumed indifference with which she asked, ' Have 
 you told anyone yet ? ' 
 
 'I told his father in Allen's presence what I suspected he made 
 him turn out all his pockets. By a really quite providential chance, 
 the case was in one of them.' 
 
 'Ah,' said Margot. with a little dry intonation, which made 
 Mrs. Cbadwiek add rather hastily, ' I mean he might so easily, 
 have thrown it aicay, you know I ' 
 
 Q S
 
 228 THE PAEIAH 
 
 ' Did he say what he wanted it for ? ' asked Margot. 
 
 ' He could not want it for any honest purpose,' said her mother; 
 ' he has heen getting into debt or something disgraceful, I have no 
 doubt. But whatever his object was, there could not be a clearer 
 case of theft and to rob you, of all persons, and of your only 
 valuable trinket ! ' 
 
 ' I don't want to pose as a victim,' said Margot. ' I detested 
 the tiling. I would gladly have got rid of it. Mother,' she added 
 suddenly, with a shade on her white forehead as if she felt a 
 certain shame in asking the question, ' will anything be done ? 
 Will this be passed over, like the rest ? ' 
 
 ' That, my dear, will depend to a great extent on you. Your 
 step-father wishes to speak to you about it this evening after 
 dinner.' 
 
 Margot shrank back with revolt expressed in all her pliant form. 
 ' To speak to me ! Why what have I to do with it ? Oh, no, 
 mother, I don't want to hear about it. Let it be settled without 
 me!' 
 
 ' My dear, don't be foolish, and listen to me. I think I only 
 say, I think that, with a little management, Allen may really be 
 got rid of this time. What I am so afraid of is, that you may be 
 tempted out of good-nature to make some excuses for him which 
 might turn the scale. You will be firm ? You know what an in- 
 fliction he is to us all we may never have such an opportunity as 
 this again ! You won't say anything to lose it ? ' 
 
 Margot laughed a bitter little laugh at her own expense. ' Am 
 I so good-natured ? ' she said. ' You need not fear, mother. If he 
 has any excuse, let him make it himself. I shall not. He must 
 bear the consequences of his folly ! ' 
 
 There was a petulant energy in her manner, a settled determi- 
 nation to evade all responsibility, to wash her hands, if possible, of a 
 matter in which she found it intolerable to be even slightly con- 
 cerned, that reassured her mother. 
 
 Allen presented himself below at the usual hour for dinner. He 
 thought to come down to find his character triumphantly cleared, 
 to receive his father's grudging amends, and read in Margot's face 
 that she appreciated his loyalty. 
 
 Nothing could have been further from his actual experiences. 
 Margot did not appear at all, leaving it to her mother to make her 
 excuses, and although his father did not address a word to him 
 throughout the meal, there was that in his manner which showed 
 that he considered Allen's presence there as an additional outrage. 
 Chadwick said little to his wife, drank rather more wine than usual, 
 and glowered at his son from under his eyebrows. Mrs. Chadwick 
 kept up as much of a conversation as was possible when the only 
 events of interest had to be ignored before the servants. But after 
 Allen had got over the disappointment of Margot's absence, he did 
 not mind much else ; he did not find the dinner duller or more 
 oppressive than usual, even ; his thoughts were all dwelling on the
 
 AMATEUR HEROISM 229 
 
 meeting that was soon to be, for his step-mother had mentioned 
 that Margot would come down later. That she would speak, even at 
 some cost to herself, it never occurred to him to doubt ; he did not 
 believe that there could be anything really wrong in her secret, and 
 he had an implicit faith that she would not allow him to suffer this 
 undeserved disgrace a moment longer than she could help. 
 
 ' You will find Margot and me in the drawing-room, Joshua,' 
 said Mrs. Chadwick at dessert, ' as soon as you have finished your 
 wine.' 
 
 ' I'll come now,' he said. ' I've no particular desire to sit over 
 my wine in his company. As for you,' he added to Allen, ' you will 
 stay here, or wherever else you like, till you are sent for.' 
 
 Allen sat at the table alone for some time ; he knew that a con- 
 clave was being held in the drawing-room, but he had no uneasi- 
 ness. Margot was there, hearing what he had undergone sooner 
 than betray his trust, telling them how they had misunderstood 
 him. 
 
 The council lasted a long time ; the drawing-room was at the 
 end of a corridor, and he could hear nothing. Becoming impatient, 
 he rose and went to the fireplace, gazing out into the black depths 
 through the big curved w r indow, where the table, with its yellow- 
 shaded lamps, white napery, and gleaming plate, was oddly reflected 
 above the blades of hoary grass and section of frosty path in the 
 foreground. He alternated restlessly between window and fire- 
 place, unable to control his excitement. At last the summons came 
 in a matter-of-fact form enough. Masterman appeared and said, 
 ' I was to say, Mr. Allen, that coffee is served in the drawing- 
 room.' 
 
 Allen started up eagerly the moment of reward, of triumph, 
 was at hand ! His heart was beating violently as he went down 
 the corridor and opened the door that led into the lesser drawing- 
 room ; there was a slight resistance as he grasped the handle, and 
 he found himself face to face with Margot. She had apparently 
 expected him to enter by the other door, and was about to escape, 
 for she gave a slight start as she saw him. 
 
 ' Margot ! ' he cried, and then the light faded out of his plain face 
 the words died on his lips. 
 
 She drew away from him ; she did not offer to take his out- 
 stretched hand, only looked at him for one unwilling instant and 
 then averted her face. "What was it he read in her clear eyes ? Not 
 admiration, not gratitude. Was it compassion struggling with an 
 invincible repugnance, or keenest stab of all was it dread ? 
 
 'You are wanted there,' she said, with a little shiver as she 
 indicated the further room, where his father and step-mother could 
 be seen through the arch. 
 
 ' Don't you go, Margot,' called Chadwick. ' I want you to hear 
 this.' 
 
 She turned back reluctantly and took up her position behind her 
 mother's chair, where she could be partly in shadow.
 
 230 THE PAEIAH 
 
 Allen could not take his eyes from her. She wore black that 
 evening ; one or two white Japanese chrysanthemums were trem- 
 bling at her breast, her fair neck and arms gleamed through the lace 
 of her dress, her eyebrows were drawn and her proud mouth set, as 
 if she were nerving herself to go through a painful scene. She kept 
 her eyes down and did not look at him again. 
 
 ' Now,' said Chadwick sternly, ' for the last time, have you got 
 anything to say for yourself ? Not that there's any excuse for you, 
 that I can see ! ' 
 
 She had not told ! She had left him to bear the full brunt. For 
 a moment his head whirled, he felt a mad revolt against such weak- 
 ness, such cruelty, till he looked at her. How pale she was 1 How 
 disdainfully defiant the pose of her head and the slight smile more 
 a contraction than a smile on her red lips. 
 
 He saw it all ; whatever her secret was, she had not found 
 courage to tell it herself she waited for him to speak, and evi- 
 dently, though she was too proud to appeal to him even by a glance, 
 she expected him to save himself she had no confidence in his dis- 
 cretion ! 
 
 In his first rush of indignation he might have spoken ; but the 
 thought that she expected him to do so, that she despised him in 
 advance, galled him, put him on his mettle. He would force her to 
 recognise that he was not such a cur as she chose to assume. The 
 treachery should be hers, not his ; she should see that she need fear 
 nothing from him. 
 
 ' I've no excuse to make,' he said huskily. ' I took the locket 
 there's no use in saying anything more now.' 
 
 She raised her eyes for the first time : the flowers on her breast 
 rose and fell rapidly ; he could only see her face indistinctly in the 
 tinted gloom above the heavy lamp-shade, but it seemed to him 
 that he caught a momentary look of wonder, of shamed and startled 
 gratitude. If he had known the true history of the letter on which 
 he had acted, and the motive which had impelled it, he would not 
 have misread her face thus, and no chivalrous ideal, no half-digested 
 notions of honour would have kept him silent. But he knew 
 nothing he saw only what his limited insight led him to expect 
 that she must necessarily feel, and little suspected how far she was 
 from either surprise or gratitude just then. 
 
 'Well,' said his father, in a halting and somewhat dispirited 
 tone, and seeming to address himself to the fire-screen, for he did 
 not look at Allen, ' I've warned you before that my patience 
 wouldn't last for ever though God knows I didn't expect anything 
 as bad as this ! Now you've gone too far. I've made up my mind 
 what to do, and when I once do that, I don't change it again in a 
 hurry, and and the long and short of it is ' he seemed to find 
 a difficulty in announcing his purpose ' that I can't keep you in 
 this house any longer.' 
 
 Allen heard without understanding at first ; he ought to have 
 been prepared for this ; it was true he had been warned, and yet it
 
 AMATEUR HEROISM 
 
 had never entered into his thoughts till that moment that his sacrifice 
 would have such a terrible consequence as this. It could not be- 
 Margot would never permit it ! why did she not speak ? 
 
 ' Father ! ' he cried hoarsely, ' you you won't do that . . . not 
 turn me out '? Where am I to go ? ' 
 
 'I have settled all that,' said Chadwick. 'I'm not going to treat 
 you as my father did me, though you deserve it much more than I 
 -did. I shall send you where you'll have every chance of turning 
 over a new leaf, if you like to make use of it. You will go out to 
 'Bengal.' 
 
 ' To Bengal ? India ! ' stammered Allen, ' what can I do there?' 
 
 'You'll be kept out of mischief, at all events. You'll have 
 opportunities of working at the factory; and indigo-planting is better 
 for you than hanging about here and going to the devil as fast as 
 you can.' 
 
 The wretched boy turned to Margot in his despair. ' Margot,' 
 he cried, in passionate appeal, ' you hear ? You won't let them send 
 me away ? Oh, tell them . . . speak for me . . . you Ttnow I I 
 don't deserve this ! ' 
 
 ' Allen,' said Margot, in a low agitated voice, ' it it is not fair to 
 appeal to me. I can say nothing for you that you cannot say for 
 yourself. Mother, let me go,' she pleaded, bending over Mrs. Chad- 
 wick's chair ; ' I cannot bear this I cannot be wanted here now ! * 
 
 ' She may go, Joshua ? ' said her mother interrogatively ; ' she 
 has had a trying day it is cruel to keep her here any longer.' 
 
 ' Let her go if she wants to,' was the reply. ' Stay, she'd better 
 take this with her.' He took the morocco case out of his pocket 
 and held it towards her. Margot took it with reluctant fingers. As 
 she passed Allen on her way to the door, she gave him one look ; 
 there was compassion in her eyes, but anxiety in her quivering lips 
 something shrinking, deprecating, even, in her whole bearing. 
 She seemed half-inclined to speak, to give him her hand at parting, 
 and then, with her proud neck bent, she turned away and left him 
 without a sign. 
 
 She was proud to the last, then ? She knew that it was in his 
 power to denounce her, and yet she would not stoop to supplicate 
 even now she had gone away because she would not stay to hear 
 herself accused. The thought that she still expected him to betray 
 her stung him the more because, in his first revolt against Fate, it 
 had crossed his mind that he might surely be justified in speaking 
 now. But that look of Margot's had for the second time produced 
 a revulsion. She had no confidence in him, she believed that he 
 would give way under this last strain, and proclaim his innocence 
 and her disgrace. Well, he would not ; he had begun, and he would go 
 through with it to the end. Perhaps, even yet, when she knew that 
 she had been mistaken in him, she would relent before his sentence 
 was carried out. But, whether she did or not, even separation from 
 her was better than living under the burden of her contempt. As 
 things were, she was deeply indebted to him ; proud as she was, she
 
 232 THE PARIAH 
 
 could not help knowing that in her secret heart. For once he 
 could feel that the balance of superiority between them had changed 
 sides. 
 
 And then a dogged resentment against his father came in to 
 sustain and strengthen his resolution. He chose to believe him 
 guilty, to drive him from home like a criminal. Very well, then 
 Allen was not going to undeceive him ; home had been no home to 
 him, except for Margot's presence, for a long time it would not 
 break his heart to leave it. 
 
 All these considerations were present in a confused fashion to 
 his mind in the few seconds that elapsed between Margot's de- 
 parture and her mother's next words. 
 
 ' Allen,' said Mrs. Chadwick, ' you see how your conduct dis- 
 tresses your step-sister. I must beg, I must really insist, that you 
 make no more appeals of that kind to her ; she has much to bear 
 just now, and if this is to continue, I must forbid you to speak to 
 her at all it is so unmanly 1 ' 
 
 'Come, Selina," said Chadwick gruffly, 'the boy's going let that 
 be enough for you, without nagging at him ! ' 
 
 ' You have the art of choosing the most offensive expressions, 
 Joshua,' retorted his wife, colouring angrily. ' I do not belong to 
 the class of persons who nag, I hope ! And I wish Allen to under- 
 stand this though perhaps you will find a term for that, too for 
 his own sake and for ours, he must keep an absolute silence about 
 the reasons that have led to his going away. We shall, of course, 
 do the same. I cannot have my daughter's name mixed up with a 
 vulgar story of theft. No one at present knows of this. All it is 
 necessary to say is, that he is going out to learn to be a planter, 
 and that this has been decided upon for some tune there is every 
 reason why more should not be said. Allen, you understand 
 that?' 
 
 ' Your step-mother is right,' said his father ; ' it's lucky we 
 can hush this up. So you'll hear no more about it from us, and, 
 of course, you'll hold your own tongue that's all you can do 
 now.' 
 
 ' Yes,' said Allen, ' I'll hold my tongue. And when am I to 
 go, father ? ' 
 
 'As soon as I can manage it,' said Chadwick. 'In about a 
 fortnight, I expect. I shall write to my agent to-night, and tell him 
 to come down to Bombay and meet you. I can take you up to town 
 next week, and get you all the outfit that's necessary. Macdonald 
 can see after the rest. That's all I've got to say to you to-night. 
 You'd better be off to bed, and think yourself lucky you've been 
 spared from bringing open disgrace on your head ! ' 
 
 Allen stood there for a moment, wondering whether his father 
 would offer his hand, or say good-night at parting ; he did neither, 
 and so the son went out, and carried an aching heart and a con- 
 fused head to bed with him. 
 
 So far from being benefited by her stay at Bournemouth, Ida
 
 AMATEUR HEROISM 233 
 
 had corne back worse by many degrees than when she started. For 
 days she lay in a listless semi-lethargic state, repulsing all atten- 
 tions with an unnatural hardness, praying only to be left alone with 
 her misery. Dr. Seaton, who was called in, asked whether she had 
 received any sudden shock, if she had anything on her mind ; and 
 being informed that a governess to whom she was much attached 
 had left her suddenly, asked no further questions, like the discreet 
 family practitioner he was, but remarked blandly that no doubt 
 that would account for the symptoms ; prescribed perfect quiet and 
 rest for the present, and a complete change of scene and surround- 
 ings as soon as she was able to bear it. Privately he had his doubts 
 whether the departure of Miss Henderson would account entirely 
 for his patient's utter prostration doubts which, as the reader 
 knows, were not without foundation. 
 
 By what an elaborate tissue of deceit Miss Henderson had 
 encouraged the poor girl in her absurd delusion, Ida and she could 
 alone have told. It was not, of course, mere gratuitous cruelty on 
 her part. Miss Henderson had set her mind on marrying Mella- 
 dew, who, owing to the death of his father, was now his own master. 
 He was willing to marry at that moment, provided he was not 
 obliged to make any extraordinary efforts ; but she new that if she 
 lost her opportunity now it might never recur. She had induced 
 him to propose a marriage at Bournemouth, but, Melladew's move- 
 ments being necessarily uncertain just then, she had, of course, to 
 reside herself in the Kegistrar's district for the full period required 
 by law. Her utmost ingenuity was taxed to induce Ida to be 
 patient, and to account for Melladew's failure to appear, as she had 
 been led to expect he would do. He jeopardised her scheme by 
 paying a flying visit to Bournemouth in the second week of their 
 stay, for he met her with Ida accidentally and behaved with such 
 marked coolness that Ida declined for some time to be comforted. 
 Then the governess offered to see the young man herself, and 
 asertain his true feelings, and came back with an explanation which 
 Ida found satisfactory and even encouraging. Margot's arrival 
 was welcomed by neither party, and certainly rendered Miss 
 Henderson's part additionally complicated. But her talent for 
 intrigue, and the ascendency she had over Ida, carried her through. 
 Ida was still anxiously counting upon the result of an interview the 
 governess was to arrange for her, when the blow fell. A few hasty 
 lines from her beloved Camilla announced that she had been 
 married that morning before the Registrar to Melladew, for whom 
 it should be said here that he had no suspicion of the deception 
 that had been practised upon Ida. 
 
 The disillusion, when it came, was cruel and crushing. School- 
 girl as she was, the passion that had filled her inexperienced heart 
 was deep and real enough, and it had been artfully fostered and 
 heightened. It was all morbid, and unhealthy and forced, no doubt, 
 but that only made it the more humiliating, more impossible to 
 confide to any other ear. She writhed helplessly at the thought of
 
 234 THE PARIAH 
 
 how -she had been duped, how they were both perhaps laughing at 
 her infatuation. 
 
 Her belief in human nature, her interest in life, were shattered ; 
 she lay in blank misery, with only one desire left to defend the 
 secret of her sick heart to the last. 
 
 She might perhaps have made a confidante of Margot, who was 
 the only person whose presence she at all tolerated, but there were 
 reasons which prevented her. Margot and she had been less inti- 
 mate of late, and she knew, too, that her sister had never had a 
 high opinion of Melladew. Bitterly as he had deceived her, Ida 
 could not endure to hear him slightingly spoken of, and so she 
 brooded and suffered in silence. 
 
 Her delicate system soon showed signs of being physically 
 affected; for days she was really ill, and, from weakness and 
 exhaustion, more or less unconscious. Margot was her constant 
 attendant during the period, hardly leaving the sick-room. In any 
 case her deep attachment to her sister would have made her under- 
 take these duties cheerfully; now, she welcomed them for an 
 additional reason. They made it easier for her to avoid Allen. 
 
 She had to meet him occasionally, though she had contrived 
 hitherto that others should be present ; but his face haunted her 
 with its sombre dejection even in the sick room. She felt pursued 
 by a reproachful appeal which irritated, exasperated her, even. 
 She was afraid of herself, afraid of undoing her own deliverance in 
 some moment of sentimental weakness. It was so clearly good for 
 them all for him especially that he should go. Why should he 
 take his banishment to heart so absurdly? "Why should he not 
 understand that she could not plead for him ? 
 
 And Miss Chevening did her best to stifle her conscience and 
 harden her heart, succeeding so far aa to look forward with a grow- 
 ing impatience to the day when Allen would depart. 
 
 ' I think you are better to-day, darling,' she said one day to Ida ; 
 1 you will be able to come downstairs very soon, and you need not 
 be afraid of being annoyed by Allen he is going away.' 
 
 ' Is he ? ' said Ida, languidly. ' Why should I be afraid of being 
 annoyed, Margot? ' 
 
 ' Why, dear,' said Margot, with a secret disappointment that 
 Ida showed so little satisfaction, ' you know you told me that he 
 made you miserable ! ' 
 
 ' Did I ? ' she said wearily. ' It all seems so long ago. I for- 
 get. Why is he going ? ' 
 
 ' Because,' said Margot, who could not trust Ida with the true 
 story, ' his father thought it was better for him to be learning indigo- 
 planting out in India than doing nothing here.' 
 
 Ida was silent for a few moments, taking in this with the slow 
 intelligence of a convalescent. At length she said, ' He is not 
 being sent away, I suppose, Margot not to punish him for any- 
 thing?' 
 
 1 Of course not! ' said Miss Chevening hastily. She was glad
 
 AMATEUR HEROISM 235 
 
 that she was in a position where her face was riot to be easily 
 Bcrutinised. 
 
 'I am glad of that,' said Ida softly and in Margot's ears the 
 words sounded like a reproach. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 AN UNWILLING ARBITRESS. 
 
 Gaunt. ' Call it a travel that thou tak'st for pleasure.' 
 Sol, ' My heart will sigh when I miscall it so, 
 
 Which finds it an enforced pilgrimage.' Rich. II. 
 
 1 And I know 
 
 That all these pains are trials of my faith, 
 And that thyself, when thou hast seen me strain'd 
 And sifted to the utmost, wilt at length 
 Yield me thy love and know me for thy knight.' 
 
 Pelleas and Ettarre. 
 
 WHEN Gorscombe learnt, as Mrs. Chadwick lost no time in enabling 
 it. to do, that Allen was to go out to India almost immediately, it 
 did not excite itself greatly over the intelligence. He was the least 
 seen and (not an invariable consequence) the least interesting per- 
 son in the Chadwick menage a common-looking young man 
 vaguely understood to be disreputable in a commonplace fashion. 
 
 Still Gorsecombe did discuss the matter, as it discussed every 
 piece of local news, from a suicide to an outbreak of swine-fever. 
 The cleverest Miss Eddlestone said a thing about it which went the 
 round of village drawing-rooms, and was thought a little too satirical 
 at the Dorcas meeting. Someone had observed to her that it seemed 
 a little hard to send that young man out all alone to a distant 
 plantation. ' Very hard ! ' she had agreed ' on the plantation.' 
 But then Allen had sniggered once at the most effective part of her 
 recitation of ' The Legend of the Monk Felix,' which naturally gave 
 her a low opinion of his moral and intellectual nature. 
 
 Mrs. Chadwick went about planting her item of news in the best 
 centres of distribution, with embellishments supplied by her own 
 tact and ingenuity. ' My husband found it was absolutely necessary 
 to send somebody he could trust out to those factories of his at 
 once. So he thought it would be such a good thing for my step- 
 son : it would steady him, teach him responsibility ; for, of course, 
 I need not tell you, my dear, he has given us a great deal of anxiety 
 at times. And really, now he has got used to the idea, I think he 
 quite looks forward to it the novelty and activity, and all that ; 
 such a much healthier life for a boy of his tendencies ! ' 
 
 Had Allen got used to the idea ? In a manner, perhaps, he had. 
 There had been one terrible night of revolt, but that wore out into a
 
 236 THE PARIAH 
 
 stunned acquiescence in his lot. And soon he began to find allevia- 
 tions even in his misery. We have said already that he had a vein 
 of sentimental self-consciousness in him which led him to take a 
 morbid pleasure in being harshly treated, if only for the sake of the 
 compassion he believed that he excited in Margot. 
 
 But he knew then that her compassion was mingled largely with 
 contempt, and he knew, too, that he had more or less deserved it. 
 Now the case was altered : the one person whose opinion he valued 
 had the best of reasons for secretly being grateful to him, secretly 
 admiring him even, however little she chose to show it. Conceive 
 the fascination to a nature like this, full of vague romance for which 
 he had no vocabulary, in the relations between Margot and himself 
 during the days which followed his decree of banishment. 
 
 Living in the same house, meeting her from time to time, though 
 only for a moment and in the presence of others, he studied her face 
 on those occasions, and read there the pity he thirsted for restrained 
 by a shrinking dread that he might yet fail her. No thought of 
 despising her for her weakness came into his mind ; it seemed quite 
 natural that she should consent to be spared disgrace ; he could not 
 imagine her exposed and openly humiliated. His love, devotion, 
 and reverence seemed rather to have been increased than lessened 
 by her silent acceptance of the sacrifice. That she appreciated it 
 he was sure; there was something subdued and softened in her 
 manner to him that made her seem more beautiful and dear than 
 ever. And yet, as the days went on, and still she gave no sign, he 
 began, poor fellow, to wish for some avowal ever so slight a one 
 of her indebtedness ; she could not mean to let him go without a 
 word ! He knew that Ida's illness made great demands upon her 
 time, but surely she could find an opportunity if she would. He 
 longed to let her know that she was safe, that he would rather be 
 banished from her than lose the privilege of her regard ; he pictured 
 himself pouring out all manner of highflown and chivalrous speeches 
 to her as she listened sweetly remorseful. But she gave him no 
 chance. She contrived always to avoid encountering him alone, 
 and in time he found ground for a mad hope even in this. She did 
 not mean to permit him to carry out this sacrifice ; she was only 
 trying his endurance she would declare his innocence at the right 
 moment! And meanwhile he had the excitement before him of 
 that ever-possible interview, which almost kept him from noting 
 how the time was slipping by. 
 
 He was in the library one afternoon, trying, by his father's de- 
 sire, to master a treatise on indigo-cultivation, when the door opened 
 cautiously. His heart stopped beating for a moment he thought 
 Margot had conquered her pride and had come to him. It was a 
 crushing disappointment to see that his visitor was Susan. Susan 
 closed the door softly behind her and stood there, her pretty, high- 
 coloured face flushed, her hands in the pockets of her coquettish 
 apron like a stage-soubrette. ' There's no one about,' she said, 
 1 except Miss Lettice, and she's running about the garden. So I've
 
 AN UNWILLING ABBITRESS 237 
 
 come in to have a talk with you. It isn't true that you're going right 
 away to India, is it ? Masterman was saying it was all settled.' 
 
 ' It's true enough,' said Allen ruefully ; ' in a very short time, 
 too.' 
 
 4 What do you let yourself be sent there for ? ' 
 
 4 How can I help it ? The governor's arranged it all.' 
 
 ' I know better. Miss Margot's at the bottom of this, I'll go bail ! ' 
 
 Allen started. ' "What do you know she hasn't told you ? ' 
 
 ' There's some things as need no telling,' said Susan enigmati- 
 cally ; ' but do you mean to put up with it to let that proud, stuck- 
 up minx get you turned out of house and home ? You can't be such 
 a fool ! ' 
 
 ' I'd sooner bear anything than say what might get her into 
 trouble.' 
 
 ' Get her into trouble ! ' repeated Susan, her eyes sparkling. 
 1 Well, to be sure,' she added diplomatically, ' there's that to be 
 thought of. She's afraid you'll tell on something she's been up to, 
 and that's why she's so anxious to get rid of you. But you won't 
 go, not if I can prevent it.' 
 
 Allen began to be afraid he had said too much. ' Look here, 
 Susan,' he said, ' if I choose to say nothing it's my affair. If if she 
 wishes me to go I shall go, and there's an end of it ; you've no 
 business to interfere that I can see.' 
 
 4 And that's the way I'm treated ! ' cried the girl, coming nearer, 
 4 after all you've said to me ! ' 
 
 Allen stared at her in blank dismay. ' I ! What have I said ? ' 
 
 4 What have you said 1 Haven't you told me times out of num- 
 ber that if it wasn't for me you wouldn't live here any longer? 
 Haven't you asked me if I thought there was any hope for you some 
 day ? Haven't I as good as told you that if you liked to speak plain 
 I was ready to many you ? ' 
 
 He fell back in a bewilderment that was almost ludicrous. ' I 
 don't know what you mean,' he said. 
 
 Susan advanced to the table, and, resting her hands upon it, 
 bent forward to him. ' Then I'll speak plainer,' she said breath- 
 lessly, ' the time's gone by for picking words. You ain't fit to take 
 care of yourself : you want someone that will look after you and see 
 you're not put upon. I'm a match for Miss Margot, I am, if I'm 
 given the chance. Marry me on the quiet it's easy to get a special 
 licence or something if you know how to manage it. I've put by 
 enough if you can't get the money. You might do worse than 
 marry me, if I am only a servant. And I'll see they don't ship 
 you off oat of the way then.' 
 
 4 You don't understand,' said Allen ; 4 you've always been kind 
 and that, Susan, but I never had a notion of thinking of you in that 
 way. And as to what you say about my telling you I wouldn't 
 stop here but for one person, and all the rest of it why, I remember 
 saying that now, but it wasn't you I meant, it was her.' 
 
 4 Her 1 ' demanded Susan, her face visibly falling, ' what her ? '
 
 238 THE PAEIAH 
 
 ' Why, Margot ; there never was anyone else for me since I first 
 saw her.' 
 
 Susan had played a desperate stroke ; she did not, as has been 
 said, care in the least for Allen, whom she thoroughly despised ; 
 but she had believed that he was quite capable of being induced to 
 marry her if she thought fit to give him encouragement. She felt 
 certain, in her ignorant ambition, that she could make a good use 
 of her position as her master's daughter-in-law whenever she chose 
 to do so. She knew now that she had blundered egregiously, and 
 she laid all the blame on her young mistress. This was the second 
 heavy grudge she owed her, not to speak of countless minor slights 
 which Margot, by her careless unconcern, had given her maid cause 
 to magnify or imagine. 
 
 For the moment, however, all her spite, all the malignity born 
 of a useless humiliation (for Susan had her pride, and it had cost 
 her something to say what she had said), vented itself upon Allen. 
 
 ' In love with her with Miss Margot ! ' she cried. ' Well, I 
 didn't think you was so mean-spirited as that ! Don't imagine I'm 
 jealous ; I shouldn't stoop to it. I only spoke as I did just now by 
 way of joking-like, to see if you'd believe I meant it. But you to 
 go and fall in love with Miss Margot ! What next, I wonder ? 
 Can't you see as she hates the very ground you walk on? It's 
 common talk below-stairs that she can't bring herself to speak you 
 civil ; she won't so much as look your way if she can help it. And 
 you fancying she'll come round ! Why, she'll be lit to jump for 
 joy the day you go out of the house like everyone else, for that 
 matter. You're nothing but a disgrace to the family ; there's none 
 of us that has a good word to say for you, upstairs or below. As 
 for me, if I could prevent you going by lifting up my little finger, 
 I wouldn't, so don't you think it. I've too much contempt for 
 you!' 
 
 He sat there breathless under this unexpected tirade, which 
 Susan, perhaps for fear of an anti-climax, brought to an end by an 
 abrupt exit. He did not take up the manual again he had no 
 heart for indigo just then. Susan's spiteful candour had gone 
 home. Would everyone be glad when he was gone ? Did Margot 
 detest him ? No, he could not believe that ; she must feel kindly 
 towards him after what he had done for her, even if she dared not 
 show it. And yet what if Susan had spoken the truth ? He 
 could not stay in the library just then, and, as if it would be easier 
 in the open air to dismiss the memory of her hateful words, he 
 went out into the grounds and down to a small stone alcove at the 
 end of one of the walks, where he sat down. Everything looked 
 cheerless ; the dull coppery sun sinking into a bank of grey haze 
 behind the bare trees, the paths strewn with rime-edged leaves, 
 the pinched shrubs and the misty distances, all combined to in- 
 crease his depression; ho i'dt as it' he were already an exile. 
 
 Suddenly there was a solt patter of feet, a vigorous panting 
 beside him, and then a great head was thrust under his arm, and
 
 AN UNWILLING ARBITEESS 239 
 
 Yarrow's honest golden eyes were looking up at him in wistful 
 sympathy. Allen broke down at this, as the collie laid a paw on 
 his knee with a flourish, and began to make an ineffectual attempt 
 to lick his face with a generous tongue. He threw his arm round 
 the dog's neck and bent over his smooth head. ' You won't be glad 
 when I'm gone, will you, old fellow ? ' he said aloud. 
 
 When he raised his blurred eyes he saw Lettice on the path 
 before him with her hoop in her hand. 
 
 4 Yarrow always finds you out,' she said ; ' he won't stay with 
 me if he thinks you're near.' 
 
 ' Yes,' said Allen ; ' we've always been friends ; he's never turned 
 against me.' 
 
 Lettice flushed. ' J shouldn't have turned, if if you had been 
 nicer. I kept friends as long as ever I could.' 
 
 ' Well, you'll be rid of me very soon now, Lettie. I shan't 
 trouble you much when I'm in India.' 
 
 ' Don't you want to go to India ? ' 
 
 ' I hate it,' he said, ' but I've got to go.' 
 
 ' Are you going as a punishment was it for going into Margot's 
 room that day ? did you break any of her things ? You weren't to 
 go to India before that, I know. And, oh, Allen, it was I who told 
 mother but only because she thought it was a robber.' 
 
 ' It's all right, Lettice,' he said he was anxious to prevent her 
 from arriving at the truth, for his own sake as well as Margot's. 
 ' That had nothing to do with it. I'm not going to India for any- 
 thing I've done wrong only, well, to be kept out of mischief.' 
 
 ' Don't they have any mischief in India ? It must be rather a 
 horrid place,' said Lettice. 
 
 ' You aren't sorry I'm going, are you ? ' he said. 
 
 ' I wasn't at first,' Lettice confessed. ' I began to be a little 
 sorry just now, when I saw you minded it so.' 
 
 'I want you to be a little sorry, Lettice; now and then. I I 
 dare say I don't deserve you should, but never mind that, I'd like 
 you to be sorry all the same. And tell me, Lettice, do you think 
 is Margot sorry at all? ' 
 
 ' Well, you see,' said Lettice, who was considerate as well as 
 conscientious, ' Margot has such a lot to think about just now, with 
 poor Ida so ill. I don't think she has much tune to be sorry about 
 anything else.' 
 
 ' But you don't think she's glad ? ' he persisted ; ' say you don't 
 believe that, Lettice.' 
 
 ' Glad ! ' said Lettice, ' oh, no, Allen, she wouldn't be so unkind 
 as that. You mustn't think such things. And, if you like,' she 
 added, with a little hesitation, ' you can come down with me and 
 see if the stream's frozen over yet. There was a little very thin 
 ice early this morning.' 
 
 Allen accepted the olive-branch she tendered ; it comforted him 
 a little to think that he was not quite friendless, and so he spent 
 the brief remainder of the afternoon with Lettice, who was soon
 
 240 
 
 chattering away on things in general, and they came back to the 
 house together as if the long-standing coolness between them had 
 never existed. ' You aren't going away jus^t yet, are you ? ' she 
 said as she was going upstairs to take off her hat and cloak ; ' we 
 can have a walk every day till you go.' 
 
 And in the evening after tea she came and sat on the ottoman 
 in the drawing-room, and nestled up beside him in a manner in- . 
 tended to show that he had quite regained her favour. ' Lettie, 
 darling,' her mother said, with a little displeased movement of her 
 eyebrows, ' surely there are other seats, without inconveniencing 
 Allen ! ' 
 
 ' I'm not inconveniencing him, mother,' said Lettice calmly ; 
 ' he likes me here. 1 
 
 And indeed the confiding pressure of the dainty little figure 
 against his shoulder, the mute caress with which she rubbed her 
 cheek on his sleeve, sent a thrill to the heart of the poor Pariah, 
 BO long accustomed to disfavour and neglect. 
 
 He sat there in the firelight, not venturing to speak, for fear of 
 saying, as he generally did, something which would draw down 
 on him some scathing remark from his step-mother. Now and 
 then he cast a grateful glance down on Lettice's half-shut eyes and 
 tumbled chestnut locks. 
 
 Lettice little knew, in obeying the generous instinct that drew 
 her to make a demonstration eo unusual to her, what a work of 
 mercy she was performing, or how the memory of that bright head 
 against his shoulder would be with him through many a dark hour 
 in time to come. 
 
 As usual, he saw nothing of Margot until dinner, and then she 
 carefully avoided addressing him directly, or even, he fancied, 
 meeting his eyes. There is no form of uneasiness more subtle and 
 unsubstantial than such an impression in almost any case. Here 
 it made these encounters one long torment to him ; yet he found a 
 fascination in them he could not resist. 
 
 That evening his heart was lighter. Might not his future be 
 about to improve ? Lettice had unexpectedly capitulated that day : 
 who could say that Margot herself would not surrender ? And his 
 father had said nothing more about India lately. Could he have 
 abandoned that idea ? Anything seemed possible that night. 
 
 However, he was rudely undeceived. After Mrs. Chadwick and 
 Margot had left the room, Chadwick sat drinking his wine in gloomy 
 silence, and once or twice he seemed about to speak, and filled his 
 glass again instead. 
 
 At last, with his eyes fixed on the fire, he said, ' I suppose you 
 know you are to leave this on Monday ? ' 
 
 On Monday and this was Wednesday 1 Only four days in 
 which to see Margot four days in which to enjoy Lettice's re- 
 gained favour ! He sat speechless, paralysed by the shock. 
 
 'I did think,' continued Chadwick in the same constrained 
 tone, ' of leaving it till after Christmas ; but there's no use in delay
 
 AN UNWILLING ARBITEES3 241 
 
 that I can see, and I wrote to Macdonald last week and fixed the 
 time. You'll go out by the " Chusan," which sails on Monday 
 week, and you'll want a full week in town to get your outfit. I 
 shall go up with you myself, and stay till I see you on board.' 
 
 This near approach of the worst he had been vaguely dreading 
 made Allen desperate ; he lost all sense of the awe he usually felt 
 in his father's presence ; the imminence of the danger loosened his 
 tongue, and gave him an unwonted command of words. 
 
 'Father,' he said huskily, 'I must speak to you, even if it makes 
 you angry. You don't know what going away is to me. I can't 
 say it in the proper words, but give me just this one chance don't 
 send me away this time ! ' 
 
 Chadwick waved his hand impatiently. 'I don't want to listen 
 to you,' he said; 'I've made up my mind, and it's too late to 
 change now.' 
 
 ' Not too late you can do it now if you will, if only you will ! 
 And think, father, what shall I do out in India all alone, away from 
 you all ? ' 
 
 ' What other young fellows do work, I suppose, and learn to be 
 a man.' 
 
 ' I'm willing enough to work, but not there, where I can never 
 see anyone. I'm not like other fellows ; I'm not fit for the life 
 there I can't take to it. When you first came home you told me 
 you meant to make up to me for the life I'd led, and that I should 
 be a companion to you, and live like a gentleman ' 
 
 ' Whose fault is it if you haven't ? Not mine.' 
 
 ' I don't know,' said Allen; 'I've never been taught better. I 
 seem to go wrong without meaning it. But why did you take me 
 away from where I was and let me live in a house like this, and 
 know what a home was only to be sent away from it ? ' 
 
 ' Good God ! ' said Chadwick irritably. ' Anyone would think 
 you have given me no reason for acting as I do, to hear you talk ! ' 
 
 ' I know you've got reasons,' said Allen humbly; ' I'm no credit 
 to you, and never have been. And yet, if you'll only try and 
 believe it, I'm not such an out-and-out bad fellow. I know how to 
 behave better now, and I'll act different if you'll give me another 
 trial you needn't forgive me, only let me stay. It it's the being 
 sent away from from everyone I care for that's so hard. After all, 
 father, I am your son : don't turn me out of the house like your 
 father did you. You've often said you can never forgive him for 
 that.' 
 
 ' That's enough ! ' said Chadwick harshly. ' You've got a tongue, 
 it appears, when you like to use it. It's all very well your appeal- 
 ing to me like this, but I'm not the person with most cause to com- 
 plain of you. There's your step-sister there's Margot. How can 
 I expect her to put up with your remaining here, after the way 
 you've behaved ? ' 
 
 Chadwick was shaken ; his first unreasonable pride and hope in 
 his son had long been replaced by disappointment and disgust ; he 
 
 I
 
 242 THE PARIAH 
 
 had got it into his head that Allen was a sullen, vicious young cub, 
 utterly devoid of common feeling or gratitude. This appeal of his 
 had. revealed the depth of emotion under that uncouth stolidity ; 
 the reference to his own father had struck a chord for the first time 
 he began to doubt whether what he was doingwas in such accordance 
 with parental justice, so manifestly the wisest and best thing to do, as 
 he had come to consider it. And yet, after all, the boy was going to 
 the bad at home ; he was a constant source of dissension, anxiety, an- 
 noyance. Would not anyone say that a year or two spent in India 
 might teach him manliness, self-reliance, all that he lacked so con- 
 spicuously ? Then there was his wife ; he knew what she would 
 say if he went back now from his decision ; his relations with her 
 were not too harmonious as it was. He winced in advance under 
 the cold silent displeasure he would have to bear from her, the 
 bitter reminders if, as was likely enough, this unfortunate Allen 
 relapsed afresh. Yet, somehow, he felt almost apologetic to him 
 now, desirous of laying the responsibility on others, and it was this 
 that inspired his reference to Margot. But Allen seized on it with 
 a sudden hope, reading in it an unexpected chance of reprieve. 
 
 ' Tell me this ! ' he pleaded, ' if Margot was to say she forgave 
 me, that she didn't wish me to go, would you send me away still ? ' 
 
 Chadwick considered. ' I'm a fool to let you talk me over like 
 this,' he said finally, ' because I've not altered my own opinion. 
 But if Margot came to me and said that, I don't say I might not 
 think over it. Only, mind this : if she's against you, you go, and I 
 won't hear any more nonsense about it.' 
 
 ' If she's against me I'll go ! ' said Allen ; ' but but I don't 
 think she will be ; and, father, I don't know how to thank you, 
 that I don't ! ' 
 
 ' There will be time enough for thanks by-and-by,' said Chad- 
 wick drily. ' I'm by no means so sure that Margot will be so ready 
 to overlook this. But we shall see to-morrow. And in the mean- 
 time as I shall have to tell your step-mother what a fool I've 
 made of myself if you'll take my advice, you'll keep out of the 
 way.' 
 
 It was a recommendation Allen was very willing to follow ; he 
 wanted to be alone to think over this wonderful piece of happiness 
 that had come to him a happiness all the more exquisite, perhaps, 
 from a certain superstitious reserve that would not allow him to 
 make absolutely sure of it. 
 
 But what a magical change had come over his prospects in the 
 course of one day ! Here he was, restored to Lettice's good graces, 
 with the distance between his father and himself considerably 
 lessened, the sentence of banishment referred to one who best 
 know how little he deserved it. Ah ! how bright a future might be 
 before him yet ! a future in which he might repair all past mis- 
 takes, conquer all prejudices. 
 
 Margot was at breakfast the next morning ; fresh and fair, and 
 preoccupied as she had been of late. He looked at her face with
 
 AN UNWILLING ARBlTEESS 243 
 
 . 
 
 ft new interest, as if to discover signs of hardness there. There 
 were none in the hroad white brow and the soft hazel eyes, nor in 
 the hues of the mouth, which had lost its petulant and contemp- 
 tuous curl of late. Even the pretty white hands seemed to touch 
 everything with a sort of fastidious gentleness. She could not be 
 hard to him alone ! 
 
 She rose before breakfast was over to attend to Ida's. Chad- 
 wick called after her in his harsh, strident voice which made her 
 start and shiver. ' When your sister can spare you, I want a word 
 with you in my den say about eleven.' 
 
 ' Very well,' she said, in her low indifferent voice ; ' I will come 
 to you then.* 
 
 Mrs. Chadwick threw an anxious glance after her daughter as 
 she left the room, and then observed, ' So you insist on leaving 
 it to her to say whether all your plans are to be upset ? I must 
 say, Joshua, that anything more unpractical, more invidious, 
 never ' 
 
 Chadwick looked up from his toast with a glance of sullen de- 
 fiance. ' All right, Selina,' he said ; ' I've had the benefit of knowing 
 your sentiments already. If you're not satisfied with the result, 
 settle it with Miss Margot not me.' 
 
 Mrs. Chadwick took refuge in her letters, which quivered angrily 
 in her hands ; she evidently had a return of her doubts as to her 
 daughter's firmness another good omen for Allen ! 
 
 He went down into the village that morning, to cheat, if he could, 
 the time that would elapse before his fate was decided. It was one 
 of those bright frosty November mornings, with a pale blue sky 
 and a sparkle on ivied trunks and leafless boughs in the sunshine, 
 which give the autumn landscape a pathetically fallacious look of 
 spring. 
 
 As he walked along the hard village road he saw a sober little 
 pony-carriage coming towards him, in which he recognised Millicent 
 Orme. He was so full of his happiness that he could not keep it to 
 himself just then; perhaps, too, he wanted to have his hopes con- 
 firmed by her opinion. 
 
 She saw that he wished to speak to her and stopped. 
 
 ' Miss Orme,' he began shyly, and yet with a brighter look on 
 his heavy features, ' you know what I told you the other day about 
 rny going to India ? ' 
 
 4 Yes,' said Millicent kindly, for she felt a strong interest in this 
 poor unpopular prodigal. ' You are getting to like the idea ? I 
 am so glad, Mr. Chadwick. I was quite distressed the other evening 
 to see how unhappy it made you.' 
 
 ' It's not that,' he said ; ' I hate the idea as much as ever, but I 
 believe it's as good as settled now that I shan't have to go ! My 
 father said last night that he wouldn't send me out if Margot had 
 no objection to my staying, and I expect she's speaking to him 
 about it now.' 
 
 ' What a very odd way of deciding the thing I ' was Millicent's 
 
 R a
 
 244 ffifi PARIAH 
 
 private reflection. ' Then of course it's all right ! ' she said gaily, 
 ' and I needn't condole with you any more, Mr. Chadwick.' 
 
 'You do think it's all right, then ? ' he remarked eagerly. You 
 don't think there's any chance of of ' 
 
 ' Of her insisting on your going ? As if she could 1 Surely, 
 Mr. Chadwick, you know her better than that. But I must say 
 good-morning now : I've got to drive over to Tidford about my 
 clothing-club, and I don't like to keep Pixie standing this cold 
 weather.' .' 
 
 She drove off, leaving him with his last doubts removed. He 
 walked on with a pleasure that was new to him in all the incidents 
 of village life : the wheelwright painting a repaired wheel at the 
 door of his work-shed, the carrier's cart with its brown tilt coming 
 jolting by from Closeborough, the little small-paned shops, the rosy- 
 faced cheery postman wheeling up his truck from the station, the 
 battered grey tower of the church rising above the cheery, red-tiled 
 roofs he had never appreciated all this till now, when he had so 
 nearly had to leave it all. 
 
 But at last his impatience to know made him turn back. He 
 had not thought of it till then ; but what if Margot had not only 
 said the word that revoked his sentence, but cleared him from all 
 suspicion too ? The mere idea of such a possibility quickened his 
 steps, but he would be content more than content with the lesser 
 mercy. 
 
 On his way to the porch he passed the study window, and could 
 not forbear from looking in. He was too early the conference was 
 still in progress ; he could see Margot's tall slim form standing in 
 the recess. She stood with her back turned to him, showing no 
 more of her head than the nape of her stately neck and the upward 
 sweep of dusky hair ; her hands those fair hands which held his 
 fortunes clasped behind her. His father was at his table listening, 
 but Allen did not venture to look any longer he went on into the 
 house. 
 
 Then he waited in the music-room, with the door open so as to 
 command the study, which was opposite. He had not waited many 
 minutes when the study door opened. 'Then that's settled,' he 
 heard his father say, with a decided accent of relief, and Chadwick 
 came out into the hall. 
 
 Allen started up and went to meet him. ' Is it all right ? ' he 
 asked eagerly ; ' has she said " Yes " ? ' 
 
 ' Eh ? ' said Chadwick hastily. ' So you've been in there, have 
 you ? I've no time to answer any questions now. Margot's in 
 there you had better go in and ask her.' 
 
 Allen required no further permission ; reassured by something 
 in his father's manner, he burst eagerly into the study and stood 
 face to face with Margot.
 
 TRUSTING TO A REED 245 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 TRUSTING TO A REED. 
 
 Hatt' ich dich doch nie gesehen, 
 
 Schone Herzenskonigin, 
 
 Nimmer war es dann geschehen 
 
 Dass ich jetzt so elend bin ! 
 
 Nie wollt' ich dein Herze riihren, 
 
 Liebe hab' ich nie erfleht ! 
 
 Nur ein stilles Leben fiihren 
 
 Wollt' ich wo dein Odem weht. Heine. 
 
 So for the last time she was gracious to him. 
 
 Pelleas and Etlarre. 
 
 ALLEN burst into the study, all excitement and gratitude, to find 
 Margot still standing in the window recess. At the sound of his 
 entrance she turned hastily, as if anxious to escape, and then, find- 
 ing retreat cut off, stood her ground. 
 
 ' It's all settled, then ? ' he cried. ' Margot, I knew you'd make 
 it all right ! What did you say ? ' 
 
 She threw up her head proudly : ' I said what I was obliged to 
 say,' she answered. 
 
 He felt checked by her tone : ' But you're not angry about it, 
 are you, Margot ? ' 
 
 ' Angry no. But it was not fair to make me the judge it was 
 not fair.' 
 
 1 Well, I don't know,' said Allen, in his slow, puzzled way ; 
 ' can't say I see why, but that don't signify now, and I'm all the 
 more obliged to you for giving it in my favour, and I couldn't tell 
 you how ' 
 
 ' Stop ! ' she cried, with a gesture of impatient helplessness. ' Oh, 
 why can't you understand, Allen ? Why should I have to tell you 
 that you have nothing to thank me for ? Your father asked me if 
 
 I was willing for you to stay at home and I ' she stopped ; 
 
 her voice seemed strangled in her throat. 
 
 A dreadful fear came into his face, his jaw dropped, the change 
 of expression would have been ludicrous but for the tragedy of it. 
 
 ' You said I was to go ? ' he asked slowly. ' Is that what 
 you're trying to tell me ? I don't believe it, Margot. You couldn't 
 have said it 1 ' 
 
 For all answer she turned away in silence. 
 
 ' It's true, then. Perhaps you'll tell me this ? Why should you 
 want me away ? What harm should I do you by staying here ? ' 
 
 ' I am not obliged to give my reasons,' she said haughtily, 
 4 but as you ask, I will tell you. I can't trust you, Allen. I can't 
 feel that you may not at some time or other repeat ' 
 
 ' You can't trust me ! ' he cried ; ' you think I should ever say a 
 single word after all I've gone through ! You make that a reason.
 
 246 THE PARIAH 
 
 for sending me away ! When you know what I'm being sent away 
 for you know how I was led to do what I did, who put it into my 
 head! Margot, you know it was you yourself 1 And now a word from 
 you would keep me at home without anyone being wiser than they 
 are now, and you you refuse to speak it ! I don't care who hears 
 me say so it was a cruel and wicked thing to do a thing you'll 
 repent of before you die, if you've any heart in you to feel ! ' 
 
 She flushed hotly, her eyes darkened with anger. ' How could 
 I know what would happen ? ' she cried. ' Is it my fault that I 
 thought you were at least to be depended on to that extent ? And 
 you try to throw the blame on me to make me responsible for 
 your weakness. . If I felt sorry and I did you kill any pity, any 
 sympathy in me by such a contemptible plea as that ! ' 
 
 ' Ah ! ' said Allen bitterly, ' all those fine words don't deceive 
 me. You want me out of the way, and you'll stick at nothing to 
 get rid of me. Very well, you needn't be afraid ; I shan't hinder 
 you, I shan't open my mouth. But at least you might spare your 
 names. You know, and I know, that if there's one of us two that's 
 contemptible and has cause to be ashamed, it's not me no, by 
 God it's not ! ' 
 
 ' That is enough ! ' she said in ungovernable passion. ' I will not 
 stay here to hear such words. Think what you please, say what 
 you please, but I will listen to you no longer. Let me go, Allen ! ' 
 
 She looked so regal, so commanding in her rage, that he felt a 
 great awe of her, a horror almost at his presumption in using such 
 words to her. He was so completely subjugated that not even her 
 cynical treachery and desertion of him, her anger, real or simulated, 
 could make him despise her long. After that one outburst he could 
 have fallen at her feet and implored her pardon. His devotion to 
 her was of the dumb, dog-like kind which is only strengthened by 
 ill-usage. 
 
 ' Margot,' he said hoarsely, ' don't go yet not in anger ! Be a 
 little fair to me. I I don't know how it is, but you always manage 
 to put me in the wrong somehow. When I said all that to you, I 
 was mad there was some little excuse for me. I'd expected it all 
 to be so different. But I'd sooner bear anything than have you 
 offended with me. If you say I must go away, I will only don't 
 let me go without a word of kindness, just to say you're sorry, and 
 you won't forget that I'm going to save you unpleasantness it 
 wouldn't hurt you to say that, Margot, and it would put a little 
 heart in a fellow 1 ' 
 
 She was touched, even profoundly, by the utter humility with 
 which he spoke ; her lips quivered, her eyes grew soft with a mist 
 of tears. 
 
 'You make me sorry when you speak like that,' she. said 
 brokenly. ' Allen, I would have been kinder to you if I could, but 
 I could not help myself. I am not strong enough to to do what 
 perhaps I ought. Forgive me ! ' 
 
 He seized her hand and hurt it by the force he used. ' That's
 
 TRUSTING TO A REED 247 
 
 all I wanted,' he Said ; ' I'd go through fi*e and water for you now. 
 You can do anything you like with me, Margot, if you choose ! ' 
 
 She felt an instant reaction, a shrinking distate for any further 
 professions of this sort, which made her hand restless in his. ' And 
 now, Allen,' she said, ' you will spare me any more of these scenes 
 while you are here, will you not ? They are too painful. Let us 
 meet as usual, as if all this had not been.' 
 
 ' And you won't keep away any more ? ' he pleaded. ' I've only 
 three more days to see you in.' 
 
 ' Ida has has not liked me to leave her much,' she said, with 
 a certain air of conscious insincerity ; ' but if it will be any satis- 
 faction to you, I will come downstairs in the evenings while you 
 are here.' 
 
 ' You know it will ! ' he said eagerly. ' Thank you, Margot. 1 
 
 ' Now I must go,' she said nervously ; ' try not to think hardly 
 of me, Allen.' 
 
 ' I don't,' he answered ; ' I never can.' And so she freed her- 
 self at last from an interview which had cost her much to go 
 through. 
 
 As for him, in the first flush of enthusiasm, roused by her sudden 
 softening, he forgot the collapse of all his confident hopes, he forgot 
 the fate that he was now doomed to without further chance of 
 reprieve. 
 
 She had spoken to him kindly, he had seen her eyes sweet and 
 bright with tears ; she had asked pardon of him, he had held her 
 hand in his those were recollections which would accompany him 
 to exile, and make even that endurable. 
 
 It is true that the reaction came in despair, in passionate cling- 
 ing to the things he knew and loved, in black temptation to undo 
 all his work, and keep the privilege of being in the same house 
 with Margot. Sometimes he thought that even the penalty of her 
 scorn and contempt would not be too much to pay ; but what if he 
 gave up the glow and glory of martyrdom, only to discover he had 
 done it for naught what if Margot refused to remain after her 
 conduct was known ? The dread of such a devil's bargain as that 
 kept him true to his resolution through all. 
 
 As Margot, her nerves still vibrating from the tension of her 
 recent ordeal, was on her way to her room, the door of her mother's 
 boudoir opened cautiously, and, greatly as she wished to be alone 
 just then, she could not disregard Mrs. Chaclwick's summons. 
 
 ' Well ? ' began Mrs. Chadwick breathlessly ; and then, as she 
 noted the girl's wearied, dispirited expression, she added sharply, 
 ' Surely you have not been so foolish, so wickedly weak, as to give 
 way?" 
 
 ' Don't distress yourself, dear ! ' said Margot, with a mirthless, 
 jarring little laugh ; ' I have been firmness itself he is going.' 
 
 Mrs. Chadwick caught her in her arms and kissed her raptu- 
 rously. ' You good brave darling ! ' she cried. ' I was a little 
 nervous lest you should be too tender-hearted to do what really is
 
 248 THE PARIAH 
 
 wisest and best for everyone. Ah, my dear, I can't tell you the 
 relief it is to me ! ' 
 
 Margot released herself with visible impatience. 'Don't, 
 mother ! ' she said in a low voice ; ' don't praise me for it. I had 
 to tell him myself it was too dreadful 1 I hate myself for not 
 being able to ' 
 
 ' Poor child ! ' said her mother ; ' it was cruel to expose you to 
 such an ungrateful task. No one could expect you to intercede for 
 him ; it would only be a mistaken kindness which you would 
 bitterly regret at some time. Don't reproach yourself for what 
 was so plainly your duty. And now, bathe your eyes, dear ; you 
 will find some eau-de-Cologne on my dressing-table there. The 
 Priory people are coming over to luncheon to-day, and I can't spare 
 you.' 
 
 Half an hour later Margot was looking, and almost feeling, as 
 if no disagreeable questions of conscience had ever disturbed her 
 peace of mind. It was to late too struggle now the thing was done 
 and could not be retracted. ' What else could I do ? ' she asked 
 herself a question to which, from such a quarter, a satisfactory 
 reply could be safely expected. 
 
 In most civilised countries persons under sentence of death are 
 allowed some indulgences as the fatal hour draws near ; and though 
 Allen was condemned to transportation merely, he was treated 
 with a decided increase of consideration during those last few days 
 at Agra House. 
 
 Lettice walked with him, throwing her weight upon his arm at 
 that acute angle which with small maidens is a sign of very close 
 friendship ; she bestowed on him much good advice and information 
 concerning India, gathered from random recollections from her 
 geography books. 
 
 ' I dare say you'll have an elephant all your own to ride on,' 
 she said ; ' you'll like that, Allen it isn't like riding on a horse, 
 you know,' she added considerately. ' You sit in a sort of little 
 pew on the top and shoot tigers in the jungalows. Papa shot lots 
 that way. And another thing, Allen ; if you meet a tiger out 
 walking, you've only to keep your presence of mind and he'll 
 always turn away. Are you presence-of-minded ? You must 
 practise it. Oh, and do you know that if you catch hold of a 
 cobra by the tip of his tail he can't sting you ? it's a useful thing 
 to remember.' 
 
 Allen listened humbly, and somehow he did begin to look 
 forward to a tropical life with more interest, with a sense of 
 the importance he had gained in Lettice's eyes, so that her 
 crude, childish notions and speculations were a sort of comfort to 
 him. 
 
 And there were the evenings to look forward to evenings to be 
 spent in Margot's company. For she kept her promise : she 
 appeared in the drawing-room now, instead of taking refuge with 
 Ida. She spoke to him with a gentleness she had never shown
 
 TRUSTING TO A REED 249 
 
 before; she played and sang for him of her own accord, as she had 
 seldom deigned to do for his private delectation. He little knew 
 what it cost her to do this, and how impatiently she longed for the 
 end to come. Margot had forced herself to make him some con- 
 cessions, from what she tried to explain to herself as humanity, 
 from what her heart told her was the impulse to atone, in ever so 
 small a way. 
 
 Allen was easily conciliated ; the evenings where all too short 
 for him. He tried to forget all but the bliss of the present moment ; 
 but as each evening closed and he sat up late smoking in the library 
 alone, he awoke with a keener terror to the rapidity with which 
 the last sands of his happiness were running out. 
 
 And towards the end, even the brief consolations on which he 
 had reckoned were withheld in some respects. For on Saturday 
 Keggie came home from school to spend the Sunday, and Allen 
 waited in vain for that last ramble with Lettice through the woods 
 and up to the Downs. Beggie had so much to tell her about his 
 own exploits and adventures, and she was so proud of being chosen 
 as the recipient of these wonders, that no doubt she forgot the com- 
 panion whose conversation offered less novelty and excitement. 
 And then Keggie would have been so offended if she had proposed 
 to leave him, and he had always had a lordly contempt for his 
 hulking step-brother. So the result was that Allen took his walk 
 alone, and a dreary walk it was. 
 
 He went to church on the Sunday a habit he had resumed of 
 late. Margot was not there, having to attend on Ida, who was still 
 in much the same condition. 
 
 He sat in the same seat as on that Sunday in April long ago, 
 when he had been so hopeful and happy at finding himself 
 actually in the same family as this Miss Chevening, who had once 
 seemed so infinitely removed from him. Hew proud he had been 
 of the stir they caused, of the way in which faces seemed drawn in 
 their direction by some irresistible attraction 1 He had felt himself 
 included was he not one of them ? 
 
 The home life which had looked so bright then had had its 
 bitter disappointments, its slights and humiliations; and yet how 
 absorbingly interesting the mere fact of M argot's presence had 
 made it ! He had never felt properly alive before, and away from 
 her any existence would seern colourless by comparison. 
 
 The long-jointed stove by the font gave out the same dry stuffy 
 odour as on that spring Sunday; the Ncvembei sun struggled in 
 through the latticed panes and threw a dull red glow on a portion 
 of the old carved rood-screen ; the effigy of old Sir Leovil Hotham 
 stared down from his upper shelf with the same torpid hauteur ; 
 and his two stiff wives on the lower grades smiled still in placid 
 inanity over the bas-relief, where four simpering sons knelt opposite 
 five daughters in ruffs and wimples. 
 
 The congregation was the usual one : Sir Everard and his 
 daughter, the Eddlestones, old Liversedge, the Admiral and his
 
 250 THE PARIAH 
 
 family, all the Gorescombe ' notables,' and all the village faces he 
 had learnt to know. 
 
 And they would be there next Sunday, and for many successive 
 weeks to come ; while he where would he be ? 
 
 ' Trite reflections enough ; but Allen was not an original thinker. 
 It is always a little surprising and painful to think that the absence 
 which means so much to us will have no perceptible effect on the 
 lives of those we are leaving. 
 
 The Vicar preached in his calm, silver-modulated tones ; he had 
 chosen for his subject Paul's departure from Miletus ' And they 
 all wept sore . . . sorrowing most of all for the words which he 
 spake, that they should see his face no more ' a choice, needless 
 to say, as accidental as it was inappropriate with regard to Allen. 
 Yet Allen found himself drearily applying it to himself ; not that he 
 expected that anyone would either fall on his neck or weep, but 
 wondering a little superstitiously whether they would indeed see 
 his face no more. 
 
 And then he left off following the sermon, to indulge in almost 
 the last bright prospect that remained now. Margot was intending 
 to walk over to Lingford Church for the afternoon service, he knew. 
 He meant to accompany her ; he did not think she would object, 
 and perhaps perhaps now that all was settled, and she had no 
 cause for reserve she would give him some plain assurance that 
 she was not insensible to the sacrifice he was making, that she was 
 grateful for it and would not forget him while he was away. How 
 proud he would feel if only she would make some such acknowledg- 
 ment as that ! He even fancied that she intended to do so, that she 
 had planned this expedition for this very purpose. 
 
 He said nothing about his intention at luncheon, but before the 
 tune came when it was necessary to start he was ready in the hall, 
 waiting to intercept Margot. Eeggie came down and found him 
 putting on his gloves. 
 
 ' 1 say ! ' said Reggie, ' you're not floing to Lingford, too, are 
 you ? You can't go with us not with Margot and me and Lettice.' 
 
 Allen had not counted on the two younger ones being of the 
 party still, they would naturally walk on together ; it would make 
 no difference. 
 
 4 Why, I shan't interfere with you,' he said. ' I shall walk with 
 Margot.' 
 
 ' As it happens," said Eeggie, ' we're going in the carriage, and 
 there won't be room. I shall ask mother if you're to go ! ' 
 
 In the carriage 1 Allen's heart sank. Still, he must go ; it 
 would be something to be with her, even though the words he had 
 hoped for would of necessity remain unsaid now. He followed 
 Beggie into the drawing-room. 
 
 4 Mother, Allen says lie's going with us in the carriage he can't, 
 can he ? ' 
 
 1 Allen, you know perfectly well the brougham will not hold four 
 comfortably.'
 
 TRUSTING TO A REED 251 
 
 ' Couldn't Keggie go on the box, if he didn't mind ? ' 
 
 ' Certainly not ; he was coughing in church, and I don't want to 
 eend him back with his cold worse, poor boy ; it is sure to be foggy 
 driving home.' 
 
 ' Then I'll go on the box,' he said even that was better than 
 nothing. 
 
 ' Topham does not like having anyone sitting outside with him 
 it looks very bad. I really cannot see, Allen, why you should 
 persist like this. Reggie naturally wants to see something of 
 Margot while he is here, and I cannot remember that you were ever 
 such an enthusiastic church-goer. You had much better stay at 
 home and finish what packing you may have to do, instead of dis- 
 turbing all our arrangements.' 
 
 ' Yes,' said Reggie ; ' we don't want you any of us. I'm sure 
 Margot doesn't. I haven't seen her all these weeks, and you come 
 shoving yourself in.' 
 
 ' Reggie, you mustn't speak to your step-brother in that way, it's 
 not nice,' said Mrs. Chadwick. ' But you see, Allen, it really is out 
 of the question so pray let me hear no more about it.' 
 
 ' All right,' he said heavily. Reggie's words had convinced him 
 already no, Margot did not want him nobody did. 
 
 But he went out nevertheless, and after apparently aimless 
 tramping over sodden heath and stiff-rutted yellow roads, he came 
 round to the plateau on which Lingford Church stood with its conical 
 grey shingled spire. Service had already begun ; and he knew if 
 he went in he would not be placed near Margot, and yet he lingered 
 outside amongst the yellow-lichened headstones, which bent stiffly 
 over their green mounds like aged invalids sitting up in bed. 
 
 There he waited, sometimes sitting in the porch by the flutter- 
 ing blue notice-sheets with lists of shooting-licences and accounts 
 of collections, sometimes walking round by the little trench under 
 the walls to keep warm. And the last gash of pale salmon colour 
 in the west faded out and the fog crept up the valley below, and the 
 windows of the church became faintly luminous in the growing 
 darkness, as he stood there listening to the low intoning within, the 
 choral responses, the burr and vibrating swell of the organ, the 
 cadences of the preacher's voice. 
 
 Then the sermon ended and they sang a hymn which was 
 familiar even to Allen ; it was ' Abide with me,' and the well-known 
 air and words fell on his ear with a new and pathetic force as he 
 stood under the chancel window 
 
 When other helpers fail, and comforts flee, 
 Help of the helpless, O abide with me. 
 
 Was it fancy that he could hear Margot' s voice, clear and full, 
 above the rest ? He could picture her in there, between Reggie's 
 handsome face and Lettice's sweet serious one, singing, her eyea 
 unclouded by any thoughts of one whose comfort was fleeing, and 
 whom she had failed to help !
 
 252 THE PARIAH 
 
 Then the hymn ceased, and was followed by the solemn murmur 
 of the benediction, and before any stir broke the silence he had 
 turned away with a swelling heart, through the long grass, and 
 home in the darkness. 
 
 No questions were asked as to how he had passed the afternoon. 
 Margot imagined he had been to pay a farewell visit at the Vicar- 
 age, as, indeed, he ought to have done, for Millicent had taken the 
 organ that morning, and he had not seen her since that meeting 
 when he had been so mistakenly sanguine. 
 
 He never did pay that farewell visit he felt he could not bear 
 to tell Millicent that he was going after all. 
 
 ' Margot, will you sing ? ' he asked that evening in the drawing- 
 room. 
 
 ' With pleasure,' she said ; ' what would you like me to sing ? ' 
 
 He hesitated he was not religiously inclined, and felt more 
 than a little awkward in making his request. ' There's a hymn,' 
 he said at last, ' "Abide with me," it's called I wish you would 
 sing that.' 
 
 Margot herself was not given to devotional exercises, but she 
 consented, with a little surprise at such a choice. 
 
 ' How funny that you should choose that particular hymn ! ' 
 cried Lettice, who enjoyed a coincidence ; ' it's the very one we 
 had at Lingford this afternoon ! ' 
 
 Allen made no comment ; he sat in the shadow of one of the 
 window recesses, as Margot took her seat at the piano with Lettice 
 by her side ; there he could take in the whole interior of the room 
 like a picture the two at the piano, with the candle-light giving a 
 more delicate fairness to their faces, the mellow subdued light of 
 the shaded lamps, the firelight playing on his step-mother's hand- 
 some features, and on Eeggie's graceful young figure curled up on 
 the stool at her feet. Ah I how soon that picture would be only a 
 picture for him ! 
 
 For some reason the singing came to an end after that one 
 hymn. Allen did not ask her to continue, not having his voice 
 under the best control at the moment, and after a pause Margot 
 shut the piano thankfully, and his opportunity was past. Perhaps 
 anything else would have been an anti-climax, would have blurred 
 the impression for him. The children went to bed, Chadwick came 
 in and discussed in a dreary practical way the arrangements for 
 the morrow, and soon too soon Allen's last evening of all had 
 sped. 
 
 What was the meaning of the look in Margot's eyes as they met 
 his for one brief instant in saying good-night ? Was it deprecat- 
 ing, compassionate, contrite or all three ? He read ah 1 that in 
 their troubled depths, and not incorrectly. What he failed to see 
 was the old inveterate aversion, which was there notwithstanding, 
 latent and ashamed, but still to be divined by a clearer insight. 
 
 And now there was only one episode before him the final part- 
 ing and, paradoxically enough, he looked forward even to that.
 
 TRUSTING TO A REED 253 
 
 Might she Hot come out of her reserve at the last, and give him 
 some sign, written or spoken, that in the future, when she had 
 nothing to dread, when he came back she would prove that she 
 was not ungrateful, would reward him for the labour he was accept- 
 ing in her cause ? Wild or not, the hope gave a less sombre tinge 
 to his waking thoughts, and so was of service. 
 
 CHAPTER V, 
 
 VESTIGIA NULLA EETRORSUM. 
 
 Bol> Your will be done : this must my comfort be 
 
 That sun that warms you here shall shine on me. 
 
 Rich. It. 
 
 I've heard that there is iron in the blood 
 And I believe it. Not one word ? Not one ! 
 Whence drew you this steel temper ? The Princess. 
 
 UNLUCKY Allen ! Hard Fate pursued him even in the manner of 
 his departure. A solitary outgoing lends the hero a certain impres- 
 siveness, invests him with a pathos, even when regrets are not 
 deep nor lasting. But a triple departure with divided leave-takings 
 is an arid and unsatisfactory affair. It was arranged that Keggie 
 should go back to school by the same train as Allen and his father, 
 and the young gentleman, demoralised by the short plunge into 
 sybaritic home life, was so overcome by leaving, even for the short 
 period that remained before the Christmas holidays, that he almost 
 monopolised attention. 
 
 While they were endeavouring to comfort and encourage the 
 boy, Allen went round unnoticed to the stables and took a sad leave 
 of his friend Yarrow. Yarrow did not understand the reason of 
 this unusual emotion in the least, but he had the tact to conceal it. 
 His liquid golden eyes glowed with affection, he was lavish of an 
 extremely muddy paw, and tugged at the chain of his kennel with 
 a plaintive sound between a whine and a yawn which did duty for 
 a fond farewell. 'Good-bye, old chap,' said Allen, with a rising 
 lump in his throat. 
 
 Topham, putting the horses in the brougham close by, thought 
 he might now suspend the contemptuous silence which he had 
 observed towards Allen ever since his misuse of Hussar. ' That 
 there dog 'ull miss you, Mr. Allen, sir.' 
 
 ' He'll get over it soon enough,' said Allen, surly from emotion. 
 
 ' Well, sir, dogs is dogs ; they don't feel like Christians, in course,' 
 said Topham, a little ruffled that his overtures were not received 
 more cordially. 
 
 In his soreness Allen was thinking just then that he would be
 
 254 THE PARIAH 
 
 well content if the Christian members of the family would cherish 
 his memory as long and as affectionately as this poor undiserimi- 
 nating collie, but the minutes were flying, he must go back to 
 Margot. 
 
 In the hall Lettice met him. ' Why did you run away ? ' she 
 said reproachfully. ' I have been looking for you everywhere. 
 Isn't it babyish of Reggie to make all that fuss ? What would he do 
 if he was going to India, instead of you. I expect he would lie down 
 and scream. I wanted to give you this, Allen ; it's my present, 
 and you must promise faithfully not to open it till you're quite 
 alone.' 
 
 She put a small package tied up with ribbon in his hand. 
 ' Don't let anyone see,' she whispered ; ' put it in your pocket 
 quick! and promise.'. 
 
 He promised ; he felt ashamed of himself for his hard thoughts, 
 especially when Lettice added, ' It was unkind of me to leave you 
 alone as I did these last two days. Eeggie being at home made 
 me forget somehow, but I do wish I hadn't tell me you didn't 
 mind much ! ' 
 
 ' No, Lettie,' he said, with an untruth that was surely forgive- 
 able, ' I I didn't notice it.' 
 
 'I'm so glad," she cried; 'I remembered it all at once in bed 
 last night, and I was so miserable, because I am sorry you're going 
 away dreadfully sorry 1 ' 
 
 Some of the servants had come up to the hall to see Allen go, 
 more from a sense of the etiquette of the thing than any liking for 
 Allen. Susan, as might be imagined, was occupied elsewhere, and 
 did not take part in the ceremony. 
 
 Mrs. Chadwick was still coaxing and stuffing the inconsolable 
 Eeggie, Chadwick was giving directions about bringing down the 
 luggage, Margot had disappeared. Allen went into the library in 
 search of her, and found her at the window, watching the carriage 
 as Topham brought it skilfully round the curve to the steps. 
 
 ' Well, Margot,' he said, ' I'm going.' 
 
 She looked startled, uncomfortable. ' They have not put the 
 luggage on yet,' she said for want of something better. 
 
 ' No,' he said grimly ; ' I've got that much time left me. Is that 
 all you've got to say to me, Margot ? ' 
 
 ' I I hope you will be successful and and happy out there,' 
 she faltered. 
 
 4 Happy I ' he said. ' I don't feel as if that was very likely. 
 Will you write to me sometimes, Margot may I write to you ? ' 
 
 She coloured painfully. ' No, Allen,' she said, ' forgive me if it 
 seems unkind, but but I see no use in my writing to you, or you 
 to me. We shall hear of one another through your father.' 
 
 ' Are you afraid I shall put in anything about what has passed 
 between us ? ' he said clumsily. ' You needn't be.' 
 
 An angry fire shone in her eyes. ' I don't wish to write or be 
 written to, Allen ; is not that enough ? '
 
 VESTIGIA NULLA. RETRORSUM 255 
 
 ' Oh, plenty ! ' he said bitterly ; ' you're determined to save your- 
 self all you can, but it don't strike me as fair, Margot, for all 
 that!' 
 
 4 Fair or not,' she retorted, ' I do not wish it. If my wish has 
 no weight with you 
 
 ' You know it has ! ' he cried ; ' why else am I going at all ? 
 It's cruel to say that now. . . . Margot, you won't part from me in 
 anger ? It's more than I can bear.' 
 
 ' "Why did you provoke me ? ' she asked more gently ; ' why do 
 you press me for what I cannot give ? I am sorry for you, Allen, 
 as sorry as you can expect me to be, but you must accept things as 
 they are ; it is best. When you have shown more plainly that you 
 are to be trusted ' 
 
 ' Have not I shown that yet ? ' he cried. 
 
 ' How can you ask, when you have still to be tried ? But you 
 will be brave, Allen, you will 'let what is past be forgotten, will you 
 not?' 
 
 ' By God, I will ! ' he cried fervently. As always, he could not 
 withstand her long when she chose to speak fair words to him. He 
 was her slave. ' Shake hands upon it, Margot.' 
 
 She surrendered one hand to him, but it glided out of his almost 
 immediately. 
 
 ' Look sharp ! ' cried Chadwick's voice from the hall ; ' we've no 
 time to lose.' 
 
 Margot followed to the porch. Mrs. Chadwick wisely did not in 
 parting from her step-son affect more than an unemotional concern, 
 a sorrow that he had not made it possible for her to be more sorry ; 
 her good-byes were interspersed with encouraging arguments to 
 Reggie and commissions to her husband. 
 
 A last touch of Margot's hand, a last hug from Lettice, a respect- 
 ful hope from the irreproachable Masterman that he would ' find 
 himself comfortable out in India,' and Allen was in the carriage 
 with the still tearful Reggie and his flurried, irritable father. 
 
 Then came a brief glimpse of the group on the porch-steps Mrs. 
 Chadwick smiling and kissing her hand to Reggie, not him ; Margot 
 leaning against a pillar, with a look of strain and tension in her 
 face ; Lettice clinging to her in quiet grief, the solemn faces of 
 the servants banked up behind, and the carriage started with 
 a jerk from the impatient horses, and the glimpse was gone for 
 ever. 
 
 ' "We shall only just do it ! ' said Chadwick, taking out his watch. 
 J For Heaven's sake, Reggie, don't snivel like that, you'll be home 
 again in a couple of weeks or so.' 
 
 ^'heii Margot was in the morning-room, she let her arms fall to 
 her side with a long sigh of intense relief. 'At last ! ' she said. ' Oh, 
 mother, I thought Allen would never go ! ' 
 
 It was Lettice who heard, for her mother had lingered outside. 
 ' Margot I ' she cried, ' how unkind when he was so sorry to go ! ' 
 
 1 1 did not mean you to hear, darling,' said Margot flushing ;
 
 THE PAEIAH 
 
 ' you don't understand it is not that I don't feel for him, poor fel- 
 low only one can't help being glad to get it over.' 
 
 'I'm not,' said Lettice stoutly, ' and I don't mean to be, Mar- 
 got.' 
 
 What with the dismal preoccupation of the journey, of the sight 
 of the familiar foggy London streets, and of the dinner with his 
 father in the big hotel, Allen thought no more of Lettice's packet 
 until he was undressing that night, when he came upon it. Years 
 seemed to have passed since it was first put into his hands. He 
 undid the ribbon with reverent tenderness. The parcel contained 
 photographs of the Chevening family they were all there inno- 
 cent Lettice had made no exceptions. There was his step-mother, 
 upon whom the camera had produced the expression she wore in 
 church ; Ida, pretty and lackadaisical ; Reggie ; Lettice herself, 
 whose childish charm and natural grace had escaped all suggestion 
 of posing or affectation ; even Yarrow was included, with his honest 
 head on one side, looking at the operator with sagaciously observant 
 eyes and decidedly puzzled ears ; and, last of all, he came upon a 
 likeness of Margot herself, in the summer dress she wore at Trou- 
 ville, and with the expression on her face he knew best and wished 
 most to remember. 
 
 He stood there a long time, looking at the lovely face, enigmatic 
 for all its frank insouciance. He had not dared to ask for this. 
 Lettice's thought had been a happy one or stay, was it all Lettice's, 
 or had not she some part in it ? If so, what significance, what hope 
 lay in this simple gift ! With the powers of self-delusion we all 
 have, and should be so much more miserable without, he ended by 
 believing that this parting present had been inspired by Margot, 
 that she meant it as a message of much that she could not say. 
 
 If he could have known the aspect in which she really regarded 
 him, the feelings with which at that very moment she was laying 
 her head on her pillow miles away in Pineshire he would have 
 been cured perhaps of his folly. One may be the wiser seldom the 
 better for a fair ideal shattered, a delusion rudely dispelled. 
 
 A day or two after Allen and his father had left Agra House, 
 Margot received a rather mysterious little note by hand from Milli- 
 cent Orme, begging her to come in that afternoon, as she wished 
 particularly to see her alone. 
 
 So, at the appointed hour, Miss Chevening entered the faded 
 Vicarage drawing-room, where Millicent was expecting her. It was 
 a shabby room, where no attempt had been made to follow the 
 latest decorative crazes ; some Italian photographs in Oxford frames 
 and some old family portraits hung on the walls, the chintz on the 
 furniture was almost colourless, and the furniture itself of a stiff, 
 uncompromising order of construction, and yet there was that 
 nameless air of refinement over everything which comes not of 
 upholstery. 
 
 Millicent, who had been preparing somewhat nervously for this
 
 VESTIGIA NULLA KETRORSUM 257 
 
 interview, felt reassured as Margot came in, so bright and animated, 
 so frankly and evidently at peace with herself and the whole world, 
 that she could not help exclaiming as she took her visitor's hands 
 and kissed her 
 
 'How happy you are looking to-day, dear Margot ! ' 
 
 1 Am I ? ' said Margot, smiling down on her. ' I am beginning 
 to find life less of a burden. Ida is so much better to-day. Dr. 
 Seaton thinks she will be able to go away very soon now. We are 
 going to send her to Cannes for the rest of the winter with Miss 
 Grey an old governess of ours. Ida seems quite to like the idea. 
 Mother won't spare me, and perhaps it is better. And now, what 
 was it you wanted to see me about, Millicent ? ' 
 
 ' I hardly know how to ask you, now you have come,' said Mil- 
 licent. 
 
 ' Ah, you want me to take one of those dreadful classes at the 
 Sunday-school ! Not again, Millicent ; not after my fearful fiasco ! ' 
 
 ' You only tried once. 1 
 
 1 Ah but that once. Millicent, I took those boys on the parable 
 of the vineyard, and I asked them if they could tell me who was 
 meant by " the heir." And a terrible youth shot out his hand with 
 a smirk and said, " Legal in'eritor of the property, Miss ! " I was 
 crushed. And they would ask questions I couldn't answer for my 
 life.' 
 
 ' You should tell them to look it out for themselves and bring 
 you the answer by next week,' said Millicent. ' I do they invari- 
 ably forget. But it isn't that, Margot.' 
 
 ' Thank goodness ! ' said Miss Chevening, unwinding her long 
 boa. ' Bucolic boyhood is not at all in my line. Do you want me 
 to visit some of your old women ? If you can guarantee that they 
 will have nothing the matter with them they will insist on showing, 
 I don't mind. Or I'll sing for you anywhere.' 
 
 ' No, no,' said Millicent, a little timidly ; ' it was about something 
 I heard in the village.' 
 
 1 Well,' said Margot, ' go on Millicent.' 
 
 I Is it really true that your brother Allen is going to India ? ' 
 
 ' He's not my brother, you know, Millicent,' said Margot. ' Be- 
 fore I answer any questions about anybody, I really must ask you 
 for some of that tea. I'm quite ravenous.' 
 
 ' Oh, Margot ! ' cried Millicent, ' what am I thinking of ? ' 
 
 I 1 forgive you, dear. See, I am going to help myself. Where 
 do you manage to get these delicious tea-cakes not in Gorsecombe, 
 surely ? ' 
 
 Millicent was not quite sure how far this assumption of the 
 gourmande was genuine, but for the next few minutes she devoted 
 herself to her duties as hostess. Margot always fascinated her afresh 
 every time they met. Millicent had the heartiest, most ungrudging, 
 admiration for her beautiful friend. 
 
 ' No really no more,' said Margot, who, however, had not dis- 
 played the appetite she had vaunted. ' If Lettie had been here, t
 
 258 THE PARIAH 
 
 should not have dared to be so greedy. And now, Millicent,' she 
 added, leaning back with a little frown, ' about Allen. Surely you 
 knew that he was leaving for India before this ? It has been settled 
 quite a long tune.' 
 
 ' I knew that ; yes but I understood that he would not go 
 after all.' 
 
 ' Indeed ? Who told you that, dear ? ' 
 
 1 Your step-brother himself. He said it rested entirely with you, 
 and he seemed so sure of your decision ! ' 
 
 There was a latent impatience, uneasiness, in Margot's manner. 
 ' He said that ? "What else did he tell you ? ' 
 
 ' Only that. Then it isn't true ? I am so glad. I have been 
 hoping it wasn't ! ' 
 
 ' Why be glad, why hope, why be interested at all, Millicent ? ' 
 
 ' I can't help feeling a strong interest in him, poor fellow ! He 
 seemed so heartbroken at having to go, so happy at the thought of 
 staying. I never did believe all the things that were said against 
 him, and he has been so much steadier lately.' 
 
 ' Ah,' said Margot mockingty, ' you have a weakness for the 
 black sheep, dear. Unfortunately, I can't share it.' 
 
 ' Don't say those cynical things, Margot. I know you don't 
 mean them ! And do tell me is it true ? ' 
 
 ' ^Yhat perseverance ! Is what true ? That Allen is going to 
 India ? Perfectly. He is in London at this moment, I believe, but 
 his ship sails on Monday.' 
 
 1 He is to go, then ? But was it left to you to decide, and did 
 you say he must go ? ' 
 
 1 My dear Millicent, you make me feel like one of your little 
 Sunday-school girls! What if I said "Yes" would you be very 
 scandalised ? ' 
 
 ' I can't believe it. You wouldn't be so unkind it is not like 
 you.' 
 
 ' You will put me on a pinnacle, dear ; it's your own fault if I 
 slip down. You had better know the worst of me,' said Margot 
 defiantly. ' I was asked. I said " No " there ! ' 
 
 ' Then it was most cruel ! ' 
 
 ' Ah,' said Margot, with an angry flush, ' you very good people 
 never see more than one side of a case. I should not have thought 
 myself that there was any cruelty in wishing that he should go 
 away where there would be some chance of his living creditably, in- 
 stead of leading the existence he did at home.' 
 
 ' He was trying trying hard to live creditably, poor fellow ! 
 And he thought so much of you, Margot ; you could have helped him 
 BO ! Nugent always said that was the one chance for him. I don't 
 know what he will say when he hears.' Millicent, with all her good 
 intentions, was a little deficient in tact, though possibly the most 
 perfect tact would not have availed her much better just then. 
 
 ' It is very good of your brother to have so high an opinion of 
 my influence,' said Murgot haughtily; 'but I am sure that heat
 
 VESTIGIA NULLA RETRORSUM 259 
 
 least would not venture to condemn me whatever I have done, 
 when he cannot possibly know the circumstances ! ' 
 
 ' What circumstances ? Won't you tell me, Margot ? ' 
 
 ' Really this is too much ! ' cried Margot petulantly ; ' you will 
 drive me away with all this catechising and cross-questioning. I 
 warn you I am not a meek person, Milhcent ; you are asking what 
 you have no right to know what I certainly shall not tell you.' 
 
 ' Ah, Margot, I have offended you ; don't think me impertinent, 
 you know it is not mere curiosity that makes me press you like 
 this. I want you to think a little, to have some pity, some con- 
 sideration, for that poor fellow. I know he is not all he might be, 
 that you must find him trying at times, but think what you are 
 doing in letting him be sent away against his will, far away from 
 everyone he cares about. He is not strong-minded or clever, he is 
 not likely to succeed, or wish to succeed, with no one near to care 
 whether he fails or not. If you had seen him when he was telling 
 me he was to go and the last time when he was in such hope - 
 Margot, it does seem so heartless in you to be sitting there so indif- 
 ferent, so light-hearted even, after what you have done ! ' 
 
 Margot rose and threw out her supple hands with a passionate 
 gesture. ' Do you suppose I felt nothing ? that I haven't tried, yes, 
 tried hard, Millicent, to find some other way ? Do you think I don't 
 regret it, that I shall not regret it again at times ? You are wrong, 
 Millicent, if you do. It was a strain, a terrible strain while it lasted. 
 If I seemed light-hearted just now, well, it is my nature. I can't feel 
 things very long at a time. I can't pretend to feel when I don't. 
 It is settled, right or wrong, and I can't retract if I would.' 
 
 Millicent threw her arms round the girl's waist. ' If you are 
 sincere in your regret, if you have really struggled, make just one 
 more effort and conquer 1 Dearest Margot, listen to the voice that 
 tells you you have been wrong. Whatever there may be to forgive, 
 to bear, forgive while there is time. Don't don't incur the awful 
 responsibility of a ruined life which you might, if you only would, 
 have rescued ! You will do it ! Tell me you will do it.' 
 
 ' What is it you want me to do ? ' asked Margot, with more 
 indecision than she had hitherto shown. 
 
 ' It is not too late,' urged Millicent ; ' he has not sailed. Write, 
 telegraph to his father that you have changed your mind, that you 
 wish him to stay. If he was willing to listen to you before, he will 
 listen now even now, at the eleventh hour. See, here is paper. I 
 will send the telegram for you myself, and you can write at the 
 Barne time ! ' 
 
 ' No, Millicent,' said Margot. ' You are good too good for me ; 
 but you don't understand. I can't recall him now. I don't want 
 him recalled. Never mind why it is so." 
 
 ' Then God forgive you, Margot ! You will wish some day with 
 all your soul that you had listened to me now.' 
 
 ' Perhaps,' said Margot. ' What is done is done. If I have 
 been wicked, I am ready to bear the consequences. In my place, 
 
 b 2
 
 260 THE PARIAH 
 
 MUlicent, even you might find it no easier to oe good don't think 
 too hardly of me, dear ! ' 
 
 1 1 do think hardly of you you make me ! ' cried Millicent. 
 1 1 admired you, loved you so much, and now I can never think 
 the same of you again ! ' 
 
 ' You give me up ? ' said Margot wearily. ' Well, if you must ! 
 And now I suppose you will have nothing but hard things to say 
 of me ? ' 
 
 'I shall say nothing against you,' said Millicent. 'No one has 
 any right to hear what you have told me you ought to know me 
 better than to think I should gossip about what pains me so much. 
 Only we cannot be the friends we were.' 
 
 'If you say not,' agreed Margot. 'And now let me go, 
 Millicent.' 
 
 Millicent did not try to detain her, nor did she offer to kiss her 
 at parting ; she stood by the fireplace, too sorrowful and embar- 
 rassed, too indignant at her friend's wilful hard-heartedness, to have 
 heart for any hollow civilities just then. 
 
 To Margot, accustomed to be made much of, even by her own 
 sex, this change from Millicent's usually effusive warmth was a 
 startling indication of how far she had fallen in her friend's opinion. 
 
 Her self-love was still tingling under the blow as she passed up 
 through the feebly-lighted village with the shafts of lamplight 
 striking out from shop doors and windows into the foggy gloom. 
 
 Why did I tell her ? ' she was thinking. ' I suppose I could 
 not very well help it but how frightfully near I was to giving 
 way actually writing what she wished ! If I had if I brought 
 him back now ah ! it won't bear thinking of! To have him here 
 again, to be exposed to what I know would come sooner or later 
 no, nothing can be so bad as that, whatever Millicent may say. She 
 doesn't know I But I have lost her, and I liked Millicent. Now I 
 suppose she will hate me. She will not tell him, though ; at least, 
 I think not she said almost as much. I am glad of that. As to 
 the rest well, I must learn to put up with it. I could not do any- 
 thing else but what I did, I could not ; and to give way now when 
 the worst is over, why, it would be madness ! ' 
 
 To 'assure oneself emphatically that the course taken was the 
 only possible one is usually tantamount to an admission that there 
 was at least an alternative open. But if Margot recognised that in 
 secret, it did not change her purpose now, it is so much easier to 
 persist passively than actively. The mere thought of Allen's return 
 thrilled her with repugnance, with a sort of dread of the conse- 
 quences she had but to be silent and he would go. 
 
 So no message came to deter Chadwick from his intention, and 
 Allen and his father stood a few days later on the deck of the 
 ^Chusan,' exchanging those last words, which were even more 
 difficult to get decently said than most last words. 
 
 'You see,' said Chadwick, as they leaned over the rail apart
 
 VESTIGIA NULLA RETRORSUM 261 
 
 from the bustle, ' I'm sending you out as a gentleman, in spite of 
 what's happened. I've supplied you with ample money to get all 
 you can need in Bombay. I might have left that to Macdonald. 
 But mind,' he added, ' no tricks with him. He'll keep a pretty 
 sharp eye on you he's had the hint from me.' 
 
 The few days of constant intercourse had of necessity brought 
 the pair into more natural relations. Chadwick had relaxed his 
 austerity, and made no allusions to the past. Allen felt some of his 
 old timid affection and admiration for this masterful, liberal-handed 
 (for Chadwick could spend money freely when he chose) father of 
 his, in spite of the harshness of his treatment. 
 
 Something in these last words, however, struck Allen with a 
 humiliating suspicion. ' Do you mean,' he said, looking down on 
 the thick green water, ' that you've told him why I'm being sent 
 away ? ' 
 
 ' Macdonald has been with me several years,' said Chadwick, a 
 little awkwardly. ' I have no secrets from him naturally.' 
 
 ' Then you did tell him ? ' said Allen, with a sullen blackness 
 gathering on his face. 
 
 ' Well, yes, if you must have it, I did,' was the answer. ' What 
 difference does it make to you ? You can't expect me to treat you 
 as if you were to be trusted just yet ! ' 
 
 ' I didn't think you'd have told but it don't signify now,' 
 said Allen ; ' and and when will you take me back ? ' 
 
 ' It's early to speak of that,' said Chadwick, ' before you have 
 even started. I shan't have you back till I hear you are in a posi- 
 tion to make your own way, making money instead of spending it. 
 If you're steady and have decent luck, you may, with Macdonald at 
 your elbow, make a very good thing of those concerns out there 
 anyway, I've given you your opportunity. But don't expect me to 
 open my doors to you unless you come back with something to 
 show for the time you've been away. There, I don't want to use 
 hard words now there's the bell ringing. Good-bye, and let me 
 hear that you're trying to do better.' 
 
 ' Good-bye,' said Allen mechanically ; ' and, father, you'll 
 give Lettice and and Margot my love when you get home to- 
 night ? ' 
 
 ' Yes, yes, I'll tell them, if I think of it good-bye.' 
 
 They shook hands and parted, Chadwick going on shore with a 
 doubt whether, after all, he need have been so frank with Mac- 
 donald. ' But it will keep the boy steady,' he reflected, ' to know 
 there's an eye on him.' 
 
 Allen stood on the deck as the big ship churned her way down 
 the Thames. Two ideas held possession of him. He was not to 
 hope to come back, to see Margot again, until he was making 
 money. Macdonald the man with whom he was to live, who waa 
 to instruct him how to fulfil this condition had been informed 
 that he was a thief 1 
 
 And here he passes from our view for a while, going out heavy.
 
 262 THE PAKIAH 
 
 hearted to his undeserved exile, which he could have spared him- 
 self, as another could have spared him, by a word. 
 
 Obstinacy, pride, and that chimerical half-hope of his had kept 
 him silent, and, now his sacrifice was accomplished, he felt a great 
 doubt, a great despair. He was still only beginning to count the 
 cost of what he had done. A great fool this inarticulate, impres- 
 sionable, muddle-headed Allen and yet the nature which was 
 capable of such folly could not have been utterly ignoble, and 
 might so easily have been saved from sinking, if one person had 
 not chosen deliberately to hold back, and see him borne away. 
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 THE BEST THING FOE EVERYBODY. 
 
 I will redeem all this 
 And, in the closing of some glorious day, 
 Be bold to tell you that I am your son. 
 
 Hen. IV. Ft. 1, A. 8. 
 
 THE weeks that succeeded Allen's departure were weeks for Margot 
 of profound calm and peace. With hiin the disturbing element 
 seemed to have been eliminated ; she was no longer jarred by a 
 perpetual false note, the new dread he had begun to inspire was 
 gone. She had not now to be perpetually on her guard, the re- 
 proach of his dull misery was not visible, day by day, hour by hour 
 she had nothing further to fear from her own weakness. And 
 things went better at home, too. Her step-father was quieter, less 
 carping and irritable. So far from resenting the part his wife and 
 daughter had taken, he was secretly almost grateful to them for en- 
 abling him to escape from a difficult position without scandal or 
 any appearance of harshness. Ida was away at Cannes, under Miss 
 Grey's charge, and already she seemed, from the accounts of her, 
 to be slowly recovering tone, and emerging from the unnatural 
 torpor and apathy which the shock she received at Bournemouth 
 had left. Up to the very last she had never referred to the past, and 
 Margot had scrupulously refrained from forcing her confidences. 
 Ida would soon see the folly of taking Camilla Henderson's deceit 
 and desertion so tragically ; it was only ill-health and hyper-sensi- 
 tiveness that made her do so at all, and when she came home again, 
 there would be no Allen to ruin her nerves by stupid petty persecu- 
 tions, as it seemed he had been doing. Yes ! when she thought of 
 that, she felt justified. She seemed to herself to have been less in- 
 fluenced by her own personal interests and prejudices; all ugly 
 whispers of her conscience were silenced yes, he deserved it.; 
 it would have been weakness to have acted otherwise than as she 
 had done.
 
 THE BEST THING FOR EVERYBODY 263 
 
 As Christmas came on, she found herself brought into constant 
 contact with Millicent Orme ; there were church decorations, school* 
 feasts, carol-singing, from which she could not withdraw. But, 
 though Millicent was changed, the difference was imperceptible to 
 all but Margot, who soon came to accept it as a minor and inevi- 
 table evil which it was easy to forget in the consciousness that, in 
 Gorsecombe generally, and the neighbouring houses, her presence 
 was becoming in growing request. It was pleasant to her to be 
 received with universal homage wherever she and her mother 
 appeared at a meet, a skating party, or a dance to have a con- 
 soling consciousness that few people would find it possible to con- 
 demn her, even if they knew what she had told Millicent. 
 
 Would Millicent' s brother be as severe ? He was coming down 
 for a few days at Christmas she would be sure to meet him. 
 Would he ask inconvenient questions, call her to account ? She had 
 disregarded his opinion about the uselessness of sending Allen to 
 college, and the result had proved him right what would he say 
 now ? Well, let him say what he pleased, let him withdraw his 
 friendship what did she care ? His displeasure or disapproval 
 could not affect her. If he presumed to take her to task, she would 
 show him once for all that she would suffer no interference. Never- 
 theless, this indifference of hers did not prevent her from feeling 
 decidedly nervous on their first meeting. But his manner reassured 
 her impossible to doubt that he was glad to see her, that so far he 
 was in no critical mood. It was only a brief greeting, a few words 
 during the walk home on Christmas Day, but it was enough to re- 
 assure her for the present. It was not till some days later that she 
 had any lengthened conversation with him. The Eddlestones were 
 giving a Christmas party. 
 
 ' You must come,' Fay Eddlestone had said to Margot ; ' we're 
 not going to have any children, and we're all going to be babies and 
 play games.' 
 
 Nugent Orme, who was one of the invited, arrived rather late, 
 to find tho unfortunate Fanshawe, with his eyes bandaged, puffing 
 frantically at a bust on a bracket under a delusive impression that 
 he was blowing out a lighted candle, which Miss Chevening was 
 holding, as she stood in the centre of the room, watching his per- 
 formances from a distance with calm and rather malicious appre- 
 ciation. 
 
 Orme was more impressed than ever by her singular beauty and 
 distinction. There were pretty girls in the room, but they seemed 
 provincial beside her, her slight, half-pitiful, half-disdainful smile 
 made their laughter hoydenish by comparison. 
 
 She saw him standing in the doorway, and threw him a glance 
 of recognition, with a charming upward movement of her chin as if 
 she wished him to understand that she declined to be held respon- 
 sible for her part in the proceedings ; and presently the curate was 
 unbandaged at her intercession, and she retired from office. 
 
 As she stood aside during the animated discussion of rival forms
 
 264 THE PARIAH 
 
 of diversion that followed everyone loudly advocating some 
 capital game that no amount of explanation could make compre- 
 hensible to the rest Nugent made his way to her. 
 
 ' Did you know Mr. Fanshawe could be so amusing ? ' she asked. 
 
 4 Poor Fanshawe ! How many victims have been sacrificed to 
 provide mirth ! ' 
 
 ' It isn't fair to come late,' she declared, ' when we are all 
 steeped to the lips in frivolity. How much more childish grown-up 
 people can be than real children at this sort of thing 1 Children 
 always have a feeling that there's something unnatural and wicked 
 in playing games in their best frocks. We have thrown all our 
 dignity to the winds long ago.' 
 
 ' I can't quite imagine you taking a very violent share in these 
 exercises," he said, with a half-glance at her unflushed cheeks. 
 
 4 You were not here, you see. And really, it would have been 
 too barbarous to stand looking on while the Admiral and both 
 the Miss Malkins and a whole host of quite elderly people were 
 sitting on the floor, trying to blow a feather across a table-cloth. 
 Wouldn't it ? ' 
 
 1 Clearly,' he agreed ; ' but what are they all doing now ? It 
 seems a comparatively mild form of revelry.' 
 
 It did ; the company were seated on chairs in a circle, solemnly 
 passing a table-spoon from one to the other, each recipient having 
 to answer the question ' Crossed, or Uncrossed ? ' 
 
 'The chief beauty of that,' she explained, 'is that it makes 
 people so angry when they find out the catch. See how red the 
 Admiral is getting he has said " Crossed " the first round, and 
 " Uncrossed " the second, and been wrong both times. He thinks 
 he has found out now, and that it depends on whether the spoon is 
 offered to him by the bowl or handle. Poor deluded old gentleman! ' 
 
 ' And what does it depend on ? ' 
 
 ' Simply on the position of the questioner's feet. Isn't it ridicu- 
 lous ? There, the Admiral won't play any more till he is told what 
 he's playing at the spoon is beginning to pall already.' 
 
 4 And what will come next ? Not,' he said, with genuine appre- 
 hension, ' not Dumb Crambo ? ' 
 
 ' We have long passed the Dumb Crambo stage,' she said ; ' I 
 think there will be a lucid interval now. From the expression in 
 Pussy Eddlestone's eye, I feel almost certain she is going to recite 
 " Curfew shall not ring to-night." ' 
 
 ' You call that a lucid interval ? ' 
 
 ' Well, it will cool people down. But I am wrong. Mrs. Eddie- 
 stone is collecting victims for some new imbecility you will have 
 to join, Mr. Orrne.' 
 
 ' I draw the line at having to go down on my hands and knees, 
 then,' he said, ' and I invariably cheat when I am blindfolded.' 
 
 And Nugent, much against his will, had to relinquish Margot's 
 
 society for a lively, but not highly intellectual, pastime known as 
 
 Tibbets,' which consisted in passing a paper-weight from hand to
 
 THE BEST THING FOE EVERYBODY 265 
 
 hand under a table-cover, and guessing at a given moment in whose 
 hand it was concealed. 
 
 At last the fate to which a party on these principles is always 
 liable was fulfilled in this instance. Some weaker brother in a guilty 
 and anonymous fashion proposed dancing, an accomplice played 
 the opening bars of a waltz, and, as if by magic, the room was 
 cleared and several couples revolving before the elder people had 
 fully realised that, as far as they were concerned, the evening was 
 over. 
 
 ' Will you give me this ? ' Margot heard Nugent asking her with 
 some eagerness, and she felt a secret triumph as she assented he 
 at all events did not think so very badly of her. 
 
 She recognised with satisfaction that he danced well, and that 
 she might resign herself to his steering without dread of disaster, 
 but, before they had made many turns, her pleasure was rudely dis- 
 pelled by a remark of his. 
 
 ' So I hear Allen is on his way to India ? ' he said. His tone 
 was casual enough, and yet Margot had a sudden misgiving an 
 utterly unfounded one that his carelessness was assumed, that he 
 had heard something, and had asked for this dance with a view to 
 finding out the truth from her own lips. She was thankful that she 
 need not let him see her face. ' Why was it,' she wondered, ' that 
 this miserable Allen was for ever coming between them ? ' 
 
 ' Yes,' she said ; ' who told you ? ' 
 
 ' My sister.' Margot made a sign to stop. Millicent had told, 
 then ; what folly it had been to make that unfortunate admission I 
 She would have given much to be able to go on dancing, but she 
 felt it impossible just then. 
 
 ' One can't talk with any satisfaction and dance too,' she said ; 
 1 suppose we sit down in this window-seat oh, I would rather talk, 
 really.' 
 
 He could do nothing but agree, the window-seat was a place in 
 which conversation could be carried on without fear of interruption 
 or disturbance ; she sat there silent for a moment, with a hard 
 brightness in her eyes. 
 
 ' Let me see,' she said, ' what were we talking about ? Oh, about 
 Allen. Did Millicent tell you why he went ? ' 
 
 ' She didn't seem to know much about it,' he said. ' I thought 
 you would give me some information, perhaps. It seemed such 
 an odd notion of his to take up indigo-planting in that sudden 
 way.' 
 
 Margot's suspicion vanished ; he spoke in such palpable good 
 faith that she was convinced that, after all, Millicent had kept her 
 own counsel, which was a guarantee that she would continue to 
 keep it. He thought it was Allen's own idea why should she not 
 let him remain under this impression ? 
 
 ' What is there so very odd about it ? ' she said. 
 
 1 Well, he can hardly know much of the business, can he ? ' 
 
 ' As much as most people who go out. And there is the agent
 
 THE PARIAH 
 
 there. Surely it is better for him to be leading an active, indus- 
 trious life than idling at home, Mr. Orine ? ' 
 
 ' Then you had some share in bringing it about ? ' 
 For an instant her suspicion returned was there some covert 
 irony in his words ? 
 
 ' What do you mean ? ' she said. 
 
 ' Why, that I presume his father required a little persuasion to 
 consent to such a plan, and that you spoke in favour of it. Am I 
 wrong ? ' 
 
 ' I did speak in favour of his going,' she said. ' Have you any 
 fault to find with that ? If you have, please say so.' 
 
 ' Fault ? ' he cried. ' Good heavens, no ! What right have I to 
 find fault ? It was a healthy sign that Allen should want some- 
 thing to do, and, if only the fancy lasts, it may be the best thing 
 for him.' 
 
 ' I meant do you blame me ? ' 
 
 ' Blame you ? On the contrary, I wish I could tell you how 
 good I think it was of you to enter into his feelings, to interest 
 yourself in getting his father to consent.' 
 
 There was no mistaking the sincerity of his eyes and voice as 
 he said this, but she shrank inwardly under it as if at the keenest 
 sarcasm. So far as was possible, she would not be a hypocrite ; he 
 need not, must not, know that she had sent Allen to exile against 
 his will, in spite of his passionate entreaties, but at least she would 
 not accept praise from his lips. 
 
 ' Don't say that,' she said quickly, ' when you know how I used 
 to speak and think of him ! ' 
 
 ' I know,' he said ; ' but I know, too, what efforts you made to 
 conquer your f eelings, and how you succeeded.' 
 
 She felt irresistibly impelled to shake this excessive faith in her, 
 to be as candid as she dared, without telling the whole truth. 
 
 'Did I?' she said. 'Ah, you don't know! Mr. Orme, what 
 would you say if I told you I was anxious for him to go for for 
 my own sake as much as his ? ' 
 
 Nugent was touched ; he only saw in all this the self-reproach 
 of a wayward but sweet nature, for a prejudice which was natural 
 enough she seemed more lovable, more human, in this softened 
 mood. 
 
 ' Even then,' he said, ' I suppose you could not help it. You are 
 so different from him, poor fellow ! You could not be expected to 
 do more than bear with him, to help him to better things. And that 
 you have done.' 
 
 ' I do want him to do well ! ' she urged eagerly, as if for her own 
 satisfaction. ' I should be wretched if he were to fail now.' 
 
 ' Do you suppose I doubt it ? ' he said ; ' and, depend upon it, 
 he feels that too, the knowledge of it will do more than anything 
 else to keep him straight.' 
 
 'And you think he will succeed will be happy there? ' she 
 questioned.
 
 THE BEST THING FOB EVERYBODY 267 
 
 1 1 think there is every chance of it,' he said. ' The life is his 
 own choice, he will have plenty to do and fewer temptations to go 
 wrong there will be the sense of responsibility to steady him. I 
 am sure there is no reason why yon should make yourself unhappy. 
 You, at all events, have done your best for him.' 
 
 ' I like to hear you say that,' she said, ' even if and you 
 
 won't let anything make you think very badly of me, Mr. Orme ? 
 1 want you to promise that.' 
 
 It needed some effort on Nugent's part to restrain some desper- 
 ate assurance which would reveal his passion. But he dared not 
 risk offending or alarming her. He had no right at present to be 
 more than her friend ; he would not forfeit that position by any 
 rashness. 
 
 ' There is no need to promise,' he said ; ' nothing can ever do 
 that ; still, since you wish it, I promise.' 
 
 'You must not forget,' she said, and the next moment she 
 seemed to have thrown off all troublesome thoughts with the ease 
 and suddenness of a child. ' How seriously we have been talking ! ' 
 she said ; ' it is silly to trouble about what cannot be helped now. 
 Shall we finish this waltz we shall have time for one or two turns 
 if you care about it ? ' 
 
 She said no more about Allen ; for the remainder of the evening 
 she was her light-hearted, careless self, fascinating as she always 
 was and could not but be in his eyes, though he preferred her in 
 her graver mood. 
 
 He walked back to the Vicarage with Millicent, speaking very 
 little of that evening's festivities, and of Miss Chevening not at all. 
 His love, which had hitherto been of a -visionary, unpractical kind, 
 with which his eye had had more to do than his judgment, had just 
 begun to seem real and actual. Why should he not hope ? She did 
 not care for him as yet how should she ? but she did not treat him 
 as an ordinary acquaintance. Henceforward the thought that he 
 might one day succeed in winning her heart should be something 
 more than a dream, he would set it before him as a possibility to 
 be realised which his whole happiness depended upon his realising. 
 
 Perhaps, even then, Margot was very far from being indifferent 
 to him ; with all her self-will, she was capable of feeling a woman's 
 delight in submission to a stronger nature, and there was an im- 
 pression of power and character in what she knew of Nugent Orme 
 that had attracted her from the first. Nor was she blind to the fact 
 that he admired her, that if she chose he would be at her feet. But 
 now she became afraid of allowing herself to drift. "Why did Nugent 
 persist in thinking her so much better than she was ? She was 
 almost angry with him for not reading her more truly. If she let 
 herself love him and he were then to learn the truth what then ? 
 She knew very well that there would be no weakness in his love. 
 She had deceived him as she had not deceived Millicent ; she would 
 have to tell him, humble herself before him, perhaps see him turn 
 from her ah, no ! she would not expose herself to these unneces-
 
 268 THE PARIAH 
 
 eary humiliations. She would stifle any dangerous tendencies 
 while there was time ; it would cost her little as yet to cast him out- 
 of her thoughts, nothing in comparison with what it might in the 
 future. 
 
 And so on the only other occasion when she met him before his 
 return to town, he found her altered to him in a manner which he 
 felt, though he could scarcely define the change. He accepted it 
 without betraying any discomposure, and made no effort to resume 
 a more intimate footing ; but he went back to chambers slightly 
 disheartened, though very far from despairing. 
 
 ' He doesn't really care for me after all,' thought Margot, when 
 she heard he had gone. ' If he had, he would have come up, just to 
 say good-bye. I am glad. I want him not to care 1 ' 
 
 Susan's mind had been greatly exercised as to the real reasons 
 for Allen's departure. From what he had incautiously said, she 
 was led to hold Miss Chevening chiefly responsible, a conclusion 
 which did not tend to lessen the already vigorous hate she felt for 
 her young mistress. 
 
 It might be thought that, seeing that Susan's charms had proved 
 powerless with Allen, his absence could not reasonably be held any 
 personal injury to her ; but hate is no logician she chose to con- 
 sider that he would have succumbed to her sooner or later had not 
 Miss Margot wantonly bewitched him. That Margot cared one 
 straw for him, she knew was impossible, but, to Susan's vulgarly 
 spiteful mind, it seemed probable enough that she had chosen to 
 amuse herself at his expense sooner than go without admiration. 
 
 And a fact that had come to her knowledge lately had confirmed 
 her in these views. Young Barchard, who had a keen eye for a 
 pretty face, had thrown himself in her way of late, and Susan, very 
 well able to take care of herself, had not repulsed him, though she 
 was quite aware of the character he bore, and put him in a different 
 category altogether from her respectable village admirers. But, as 
 a former companion of Allen's and as a young man with more 
 smartness and style than most Gorsecombe swains affected, he was 
 not without his recommendations, and nothing was more natural 
 than that their conversation should sometimes fall upon young Mr. 
 Chadwick, and that Barchard should mention that curious incident 
 of a letter in a female hand with a Bournemouth postmark which 
 was to be secretly delivered. 
 
 ' And you didn't think to open it to see what was inside ? ' said 
 the ingenuous Susan. 
 
 ' 'Twasn't any business of mine,' he replied, ' and besides, there 
 was a seal on it.' 
 
 ' Ah,' said Susan, ' I'd have managed it, seal or no seal, if it had 
 been me.' 
 
 ' Trust you 1 ' he said with a grin of admiration. 
 
 But Susan thought a good deal about this mysterious letter : 
 was it that which had decided master to send Mr. Allen away ?
 
 THE BEST THING FOR EVERYBODY 269 
 
 Had Margot written it ? There must have been something underhand 
 about it, or it would not have been addressed under cover instead 
 of openly to the house. And to think that she could find out 
 nothing ! 
 
 It is said that servants know everything of their employers' 
 affairs, and, owing to the carelessness with which in most house- 
 holds allusions are made in their presence, they do know a great 
 deal. Few credit their domestics with any ears or intelligence, 
 but, for all that, many a Hercules more or less distorted, but 
 recognisable is constructed in the kitchen from a fragmentary foot 
 picked up in the dining-room. Here, however, the utmost caution 
 had been observed ; no one below stairs, not even the infallible 
 Masterman, knew more than the bare facts that Mr. Allen had been 
 sent out to foreign parts at very short notice, and that he did not 
 seem to fancy going. 
 
 Susan had tried to extract information from Lettice ; but, child 
 as she was, Lettice had an instinctive feeling that she ought not to 
 chatter of family troubles to an inquisitive maid. ' I don't think 
 mother would like me to talk about it, Susan,' she had said, with 
 the little air of dignity she could take at times ; ' and besides, you 
 know, I dont know myself why poor Allen went. Only I'm sure it 
 wasn't for anything wrong he had done.' 
 
 One evening Susan, who occasionally acted as Margot's maid, 
 was brushing Miss Chevening's hair, when it occurred to her to try 
 the effect of a few judicious remarks. She was alway demure and 
 attentive with Margot, who had no suspicion of the venomous 
 resentment that smouldered under that trimly-aproned bosom. 
 We all walk at times, undismayed because unwitting, under 
 the masked guns of some bitter secret hatred. Margot had 
 entirely forgotten the girl's imaginary Trouville grievance, but if 
 she had thought that the other remembered, she would have 
 been more amused than alarmed what harm could Susan do 
 to her ? 
 
 'It seems quite like a different house without Mr. Allen, don't 
 it, miss ? ' began Susan. 
 
 Miss Chevening raised her eyebrows. ' Does it ? ' she said ; ' I 
 don't quite see how his being away can affect you, Susan.' 
 
 Susan felt a vicious longing to tug the beautiful bronze tresses 
 she was handling. 
 
 1 You don't, don't you, you stuck up 'aughty thing 1 ' she thought ; 
 ' but perhaps it affects me as well as my betters.' 
 
 ' In course I was not eluding to myself, miss,' she said, ' being 
 only a domestic ; I was thinking of the difference it would make to 
 you.' 
 
 ' Don't trouble to think, then,' said Miss Chevening, ' because 
 really it is no concern of yours.' 
 
 1 Even servants has their feelings, miss,' retorted Susan ; ' little 
 as you seem to give them credit for it. I'd no intention of taking 
 jmy liberty in what I said, I'm sure,'
 
 270 THE PARIAH 
 
 ' Don't be a goose,' said Margot ; ' I ara not offended, only- 
 well, I don't care to discuss Mr. Allen with anybody.' 
 
 ' Very good, miss,' said Susan, with inward rage. 'We'll see il 
 I can't touch you yet, my lady ! ' her thoughts ran. 
 
 ' That young man, Barchard, fte'll miss Mr. Allen, miss,' she 
 continued. 
 
 ' Still Mr. Allen ? ' said Margot, a little impatiently. ' Will he 
 indeed, Susan ? ' 
 
 'Well, miss, judging by the friends they were. That young 
 Barchard, they do say, was a sort of " fat-totalum," as they call it, 
 to Mr. Allen. I thought you was aware of that, miss. Why, if 
 anyone was sending him a letter they didn't want noticed and 
 you know, miss, young gentlemen well, they do get letters of that 
 sort sometimes they'd send it ' 
 
 Susan had succeeded in disturbing her mistress's equanimity at 
 last ; two angry roses burnt in Margot's cheeks as she interrupted 
 her 
 
 ' That will do, Susan ; I've no wish to hear gossip of that sort. 
 And you can go now. I will finish brushing my hair myself.' 
 
 Susan retired, not without satisfaction. If she could only be 
 sure that there was something about that letter which was not 
 known, which Miss Margot wished concealed if she could only 
 find it out I Unhappily, she was as far from settling that important 
 point as ever, and in the meantime she was powerless. 
 
 Some days after this they were at breakfast one snowy January 
 morning, when Chadwick, who was opening his letters, gave an 
 angry exclamation. Margot looked up, and was astonished at the 
 black fury which contorted his face. 
 
 ' Have you had bad news '? ' inquired her mother with a languid 
 interest. 
 
 ' Bad news ! ' he said with a scowl. ' I don't know if you would 
 call it bad news there, read it yourself! ' 
 
 He flung a letter across the table written in a slovenly, 
 half-commercial hand. ' Why, it's from Allen 1 ' exclaimed Mrs. 
 Chadwick, glancing at the signature, ' and dated from Madras. I 
 thought it was Bombay he was going to ? ' 
 
 'Don't talk about it,' he stormed ; 'read it. The infernal, un- 
 grateful, young villain, the double-faced blackguard, to trick me 
 like this I ' 
 
 Mrs. Chadwick read it and handed it on to Margot. It was a 
 piteous confused epistle ; he implored his father not to be angry 
 with him, because he could not, after all, go out to the .planta- 
 tion ; he would have done it, he declared, but for what his father 
 had said about having told the agent everything ; he could not bear 
 living with a man who had been told he was a thief and wanted 
 looking after. He was going to seek his fortune in another place, 
 in another way, where no one would know anything against him, 
 He hoped before long to come back rich.
 
 THE BEST THING FOR EVEKYBOD* 271 
 
 1 How can he seek his fortune ? ' cried Mrs. Chadwick. ' He 
 must be mad he has no money.' 
 
 'Like the fool I was,' said Chadwick, 'I gave him some. I 
 thought I could trust him that little way on board ship. And he'3 
 made off with it ! ' 
 
 Margot looked up from the letter. ' Did you really tell him that 
 you had told your agent ? ' she asked. ' Was that true ? ' 
 
 ' It's true enough,' said Chadwick. ' How was I to send him out 
 there without giving Macdonald a hint ? It was only fair to him. 
 
 ' But you need not have let Allen know 1 ' she cried. 
 
 ' I meant to show him he had better be on his best behaviour,' 
 he said surlily ; ' but that's only an excuse he meant to give me 
 the slip all the time. I see that now.' 
 
 ' Joshua,' said his wife, ' the next thing will be that he will come 
 back here ! ' 
 
 ' "Will he ? ' thundered Chadwick, ' will he ? Let him come and 
 see how he is received ! I swear, if he dares to shows his hang-dog 
 face here, I'll turn him out. I've borne with him for the last time. 
 He's no son of mine. I disown him he may go to the dogs, and 
 die with them for all I care. You hear me, Selina ? Never men- 
 tion his name to me again nor you,' he added to Margot ; ' tell 
 that child to hold her tongue, and the boy too. I'll have no chatter- 
 ing about it, make them understand that or it will be the worse for 
 all of them ! ' 
 
 He rose from his untasted breakfast and closed the door 
 violently after him, leaving Margot and her mother looking at one 
 another in silent terror. 
 
 ' This is very dreadful, darling,' said Mrs. Chadwick at last. 
 
 ' Very,' said Margot. ' Do you think will he do what he says ? ' 
 
 1 Your step-father ? Undoubtedly. He is very angry, and no 
 wonder. He makes me quite afraid when he is like that. But I 
 suppose it is wicked to be glad but I can't help it. We shall never 
 be troubled with that wretched boy again now. If he came back 
 he would not be received.' 
 
 Margot gave a little shudder. ' Mother,' she said, ' don't talk 
 like that just yet it is too horrible ! When I think that if it had 
 
 not been ' She broke off: she could not finish the thought in 
 
 words. 
 
 ' My dear,' said Mrs. Chadwick, ' I can understand your feeling a 
 little distressed. But no one can tell I can never describe to you 
 the horror I had of that boy. I can't pretend to be anything but 
 very thankful that he has relieved us of himself like this, though of 
 course, I can be sorry for him too.' 
 
 And Margot, though she hated herself for it, was conscious, too, 
 beneath her remorse and pity for the misguided, neglected Allen, 
 of that same odious thankfulness and relief that, come what might, 
 she would never now live in the same house with him, that she was 
 eafe from him for the future. 
 
 Only Lettice bewailed the news in secret with a sorrow un-
 
 272 THE PAEIAH 
 
 alloyed by any selfish considerations. He had been so kind to her 
 in those last few days that rough brother who was always in dis- 
 grace ; he had looked so sad at having to go and now he had been 
 really wicked, and she would never see him any more. She sobbed 
 herself to sleep that night, thinking of him out in the darkness 
 all alone, with no one allowed to love him or speak to him ever 
 again. 
 
 But no other tears were shed for Allen.
 
 BOOK V. 
 
 JUDGMENT v. INCLINATION. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 IN DOUBT. 
 
 THE history of the Chadwick household during the fourteen months 
 that followed Allen's final fiasco may be told in very few pages. Of 
 what had become of him they heard, and perhaps preferred to hear, 
 nothing ; in the house his name was never mentioned ; it was 
 understood that Chadwick had altered his will. He was reticent 
 on the subject of his son, but, nevertheless, it was generally known 
 in Gorsecombe that the young man had gone completely to the 
 bad, which surprised few, though the more charitable thought that 
 his step-mother might have done more to prevent it, had her 
 interest lain in that direction. 
 
 Disappointed in his own son, Chadwick set himself to find what 
 consolation he might in his step-children. He was gratified by all 
 the admiration they excited ; it flattered him most of all when 
 strangers assumed that they were actually his children. He prided 
 himself on the indulgence with which he treated them. Margot 
 had a horse of her own now, and Lettice a pony ; he liked to be 
 seen riding about the country with them ; he liked them to have 
 every advantage that his wealth could give. Vanity, and the 
 mortification Allen had caused him, had more to do with this than 
 any real affection for the Chevenings. He was never quite at hia 
 ease with them never without a secret consciousness of a subtle 
 difference between himself and them that met him at every turn. 
 Even Lettice submitted a little unwillingly to his rough caresses, 
 and did not chatter so freely to him as to others. Margot'a 
 behaviour to him gave him nothing to find fault with ; she had 
 found herself unable to refuse the favours he showered upon her, 
 and would not be guilty of the meanness of accepting everything 
 without making all the return in her power. But though she wag 
 dutiful, and even grateful, she could not bring herself to pretend 
 an affection she did not feel ; it was all she could do sometimes to 
 conceal the shudder caused by some fresh revelation of the man's 
 essential coarseness of fibre. 
 
 Ida stood lowest in his favour, She had come back from the 
 
 T
 
 274 THE PARIAH 
 
 South of France with no trace of the crisis she had passed through; 
 in fact, she seemed to have erased the very memory of it from 
 her mind. But she was still delicate, with a sensitiveness that he 
 characterised as ' finical.' She allowed him to see that she shrank 
 from him, which irritated him. It was lucky for Ida that her 
 elder sister was always at hand to avert an outburst, and bring 
 Chadwick back into good-humour. 
 
 As for Chadwick's relations with his wife, they had not become 
 closer with time, though there was nothing in their behaviour to 
 one another to show that either regretted the union. The world 
 the local world of Gorsecombe, that is called Mrs. Chadwick an 
 admirable wife, and considered that she had accomplished marvels 
 in improving her husband's position. 
 
 There had been no pretence of love between them; he had 
 admired her, and did so still ; he had wanted a handsome, well-bred 
 woman of the world to preside over his house and attract local 
 society ; he had all he had bargained for, and more, for he had not 
 expected to triumph so instantly and completely over the prejudice 
 that had surrounded him as this marriage had enabled him to do. 
 But for all that, he was not content ; he found himself too much 
 eclipsed by his wife ; he knew too well that people came to his 
 house and invited him to theirs for her sake ; that he personally 
 was little, if at all, more popular than before. 
 
 He had not, as he had hoped, been put on the ' Commission 
 of the Peace ; he was not asked to join shooting parties in the 
 autumn ; he was not made to feel that he was an important or a 
 welcome presence anywhere. People were civil to him, and that 
 was about all and he cursed their civility in his soul. 
 
 Though he would not allow it to himself, he had realised none 
 of his expectations ; he was more lonely here in this big house, 
 with all those fair young faces about him ; he was less of a power, 
 in spite of all his money, than he had been out on his Behar planta- 
 tions. Sometimes it came home to him bitterly enough, that grace- 
 less, good-for-nothing son of his had, after all, been the only person 
 who had really looked up to him or cared for him. But Allen had 
 sinned past all forgiveness ; having chosen to cut himself off from 
 the only means of retrieving his disgrace, he was less than a 
 stranger henceforth, and it was useless to think of what might have 
 been. 
 
 To forget all gloomy reflections of this sort, Chadwick had 
 recourse to a means that he was already too much inclined to 
 seek he drank. No one not even his wife suspected the extent 
 to which the habit had grown upon him ; he only indulged it when 
 alone, and the only effect wine had hitherto had upon him was to 
 render him more taciturn. 
 
 His wife and family saw less of him in the evenings ; he allowed 
 them to do very much as they pleased, even if he snarled occasion- 
 ally under Mrs. Chadwick's rather frequent and increasing demands 
 on his purse.
 
 IN DOUBT 275 
 
 As the second spring after Allen's departure approached, she had 
 begun cautiously to sound him as to the desirability of a house in 
 town for the season. Many of the best people in their Pineshire 
 set were going to spend the summer in London ; Ida was eighteen 
 now, and Margot had never been presented ; it was so tiresome 
 to have to live in Gorsecombe all the year round, so necessary for 
 the girls to see more of society, and so on. Chadwick had resisted 
 at first, until he found that his own presence in town would not be 
 indispensable, when he began to see that the plan might have its 
 advantages. He would be relieved from the oppression of his wife's 
 society, free to live his life as he chose, without having to study 
 appearances and act as host to people who had no interests in 
 common with him. , 
 
 So Chadwick had ended by giving his consent, and a house had 
 been found on the Bayswater side of Hyde Park, with which his 
 wife (although she would have preferred something in Mayfair) 
 declared herself tolerably well satisfied. A stronger motive than 
 the mere desire to get back into the movement after so many years 
 of enforced abstention had prompted Mrs. Chadwick. Young Guy 
 Hotham had left Oxford, and was to read for the Bar in town, where 
 he would share Nugent Orme's chambers. She had reason to 
 suspect that the young man was beginning to have a decidedly soft 
 place in his heart for Ida. What a triumph if Ida could succeed in 
 carrying off such a prize in her first season ! She had grown very 
 pretty of late, and young Hotham, at all events, seemed to find her 
 more attractive than her elder and lovelier sister, of whom he stood 
 a little in awe. And Ida in her limp way was ready enough to 
 return his liking. Lady Adela might not approve of such a match, 
 but she would not be in town, and even she could hardly find a 
 serious objection. Of course it would have been better had Margot 
 been the chosen one, but Margot was provokingly blind to her own 
 interests and refused all guidance in these matters. She had already 
 refused young Hopwood Maltby, the eldest son of the wealthy 
 brewer, a quite unexceptionable parti, who had every chance of 
 being a peer some day, and her only reason had been the ridiculous 
 pretext that she did not like him well enough to marry him. 
 
 Mrs. Chadwick knew well that it was hopeless to attempt to 
 constrain her eldest daughter's affections ; she was heart-whole, to 
 the best of her mother's knowledge ; the intimacy with the Vicarage, 
 which had seemed dangerous at one time, had died away ; the only 
 thing to be done was to trust to Margot's face bringing her some 
 piece of good fortune that even she would have no heart to throw 
 away. 
 
 If she had known more of her daughter's heart she would have 
 felt less sanguine. Seldom as Margot had seen Orme during the 
 past year, she was farther than ever from forgetting him ; the 
 circumstance she felt most keenly in Millicent's withdrawal was 
 that she heard so much less of him. She thought, she was almost 
 certain, that ho had cared for her a little at one time his mannet
 
 276 THE PARIAH 
 
 when they met had changed since then had he found some greater 
 attraction in London ? She knew nothing, and was afraid to attract 
 Millicent's suspicion by any questions as to her brother's doings. 
 It did not occur to her that she herself was chiefly responsible for 
 Nugent's change of manner. The dread she had felt had worn off; 
 she had come to think, or persuade herself that he would think, 
 Allen's desertion a sufficient justification of her conduct towards 
 him ; if he was inclined to blame her, she believed it would be 
 possible to bring him to adopt her views. She hoped he had for- 
 gotten Allen altogether, for he had made no allusion to him of late ; 
 yet at times she feared that this silence was a sign that he knew 
 and condemned. But Millicent had promised not to repeat that 
 unlucky confidence it could not be that. In London she would 
 meet him more often, and be better able to judge. 
 
 It was strange, even to herself, that her thoughts should be so 
 frequently busy with speculation on this meeting, and that the re- 
 tention of his good opinion had come to possess such a growing 
 importance for her. 
 
 Some instinct warned her that, for her own sake, she should not 
 think of him as more than a friend, and that it was safest to see as 
 little of him as possible, but that did not alter the sharp dread that 
 overcame her at the mere idea of finding that his very friendship 
 was no longer hers. It would be terrible if he had come to dislike 
 or despise her worse if he were merely indifferent and she must 
 wait for certainty until they met each other face to face. 
 
 Spring found Mrs. Chadwick and her daughters established in 
 their new quarters, which not everyone would have considered a 
 good exchange for a country house full of light and air and fragrant 
 garden -breaths. This London mansion was tall and narrow, dark 
 as to its staircase and back rooms, which looked out upon a deep 
 stucco well or shaft. But then it possessed what the estate agent's 
 bills termed ' spacious reception-rooms,' furnished, it is true, with 
 the chilly and unhomelike meagreness something between the 
 appointments of superior lodgings and an inferior hotel of a house 
 that has never been a home. However, it faced the great main 
 road and the Park railings and wide stretches of green turf beyond. 
 To Mrs. Chadwick, and perhaps to her two eldest daughters, there 
 was something inspiriting and exhilarating in the very din of the 
 traffic that rolled and clattered all day past their windows. Only 
 Lettice, at lessons with her new governess in a dark little room at 
 the rear, seemed losing her colour and spirits. 
 
 The almond blossom had begun to brighten the grimy squares, 
 and the murderous east wind had not had time as yet to mow down 
 the crocuses, drawn up in lines like young conscripts, along the 
 garden walks. It was late in the afternoon and the Chevening 
 girls were in the big drawing-room with their mother, having just 
 returned from a drive in the Park ; Lettice was reading diligently 
 in the window.
 
 IN DOUBT 277 
 
 1 And what have you been doing with yourself this afternoon, 
 pet ? ' asked her mother. 
 
 ' Oh, Mademoiselle and I had a walk,' said Lettice, in a tone 
 that implied some contempt for this exercise as practised in London. 
 ' We went along the Serpentine, and there was a boy sailing hia 
 boat there at least it would only sail bottom upwards. And I 
 lent him Mademoiselle's umbrella to reach it with. I don't think 
 Serpentine boys are very polite, for he didn't even say " Thank you." 
 Mummy, I do wish we could have brought Yarrow with us ! ' 
 
 ' Poor Yarrow hasn't been well lately, dear, and London isn't 
 good for him.' 
 
 ' Do you know,' said Lettice, ' I think Yarrow and I must have 
 the same kind of constitution. London isn't good for me, either. 
 Even Chiswick was more country than this ? ' 
 
 Mrs. Chadwick was stroking Lettice's hair. ' I must take you 
 to have some of this cut off,' she remarked. 
 
 ' Must you ? ' said Lettice. ' Don't, mother. I like it long it's 
 company for me when I'm reading.' 
 
 ' Never mind about the tea just now, Margot,' said Mrs. Chad- 
 wick as Margot was preparing to attend to her usual duty ; ' Ida 
 must pour me out some for once. I want you to look at that list 
 on the writing-table, and see if I have left anybody out who ought 
 to be there.' 
 
 Margot took up the list. She and Ida were to be presented 
 next week, and Mrs. Chadwick was asking all the people she knew 
 in town to look in after the ceremony. Margot's eyes ran rapidly 
 down the names of those who were to be written to the one name 
 she wished to find there was absent. Could she trust herself to 
 suggest its inclusion without betraying the interest she felt ? She 
 sat there undecided, playing with the paper as her eyes looked idly 
 out over the Park and the trees, whose bare branches were already 
 showing knotted outlines against the pale rose and amethyst sky. 
 
 ' Well, Margot,' said her mother, ' is everybody there ? ' 
 
 ' I think so, unless haven't you forgotten Mr. Orme ? ' 
 
 ' It didn't occur to me to invite Mr. Orme he has his pro- 
 fession to attend to, and afternoon parties are not likely to have 
 any attractions for him.' 
 
 Margot felt unable to press the point ; probably he would not 
 come even if he were asked. Fate was against her for the present. 
 
 Ida came up at this moment, put down the cup she had brought 
 Margot, and looked over her shoulder. ' Hasn't Mr. Guy Hotham 
 his profession to attend to, too, mother ? ' she inquired a little 
 maliciously. ' You have asked him.' 
 
 ' Mr. Hotham has not to depend upon it.' 
 
 ' 1 think,' said Ida, ' that if you ask one, you ought to ask the 
 other they are living in the same house together, and won't it 
 look a little pointed not to ask both ? ' 
 
 Ida did not often show so much interest in what was going on, 
 and she was actuated now, not by any intuition of her sister's
 
 278 THE PARIAH 
 
 wishes, but by a suspicion that Guy Hotham \vould be more likely 
 to present himself if he could be certain of not being the only male 
 creature in the room. 
 
 Mrs. Chadwick, who always yielded to any suggestion of Ida's, 
 did not think it worth while to oppose this one. ' Very well, my 
 dear,' she said indolently; ' if you like to ask him, do so. I should 
 be sorry to offend the dear Vicar.' 
 
 On the following afternoon, Orme was in his professional cham- 
 bers in New Square, engaged in reading over a case that had just 
 been brought in for his opinion, when the staircase outside re- 
 sounded with a brisk but not very professional footstep, which was 
 easy to recognise as Guy Hotham' s. To assist that young gentle- 
 man in his studies for the Bar examination, he had given him 
 what is known as the run of his chambers, though Guy usually 
 preferred to run in any other direction. 
 
 Orme looked up smiling as the other burst in, for the two, in spite 
 of the four years between them (often as great a barrier as a decade 
 or so to a young fellow of Hotham's age) were on excellent terms. 
 
 ' Hope you haven't hurried over your breakfast ? ' he said 
 politely, with a glance at a little clock on his table which marked 
 a quarter to five. 
 
 ' Oh, I looked in for a few minutes at the Club on my way 
 down. I haven't come to do any reading to-day.' 
 
 ' You don't mean it ! ' 
 
 ' You shut up. I've lots of time to mug up Snell and "Williams 
 between this and Christmas it's not as if I meant to take up the 
 thing seriously.' 
 
 ' Well,' Orme admitted, ' it isn't much.' 
 
 ' I only want to get called. The governor thinks I ought to 
 know a little law, in case I get made a magistrate some day. I 
 say,' he broke off, beginning to turn over the bundles of papers 
 on Orme's table, ' you are going it, old man. " Case for opinion 
 of Counsel," "Mr. Nugent Orme two guas ! " "Mr. Nugent 
 Onne, to settle draft statement of claim and advise generally." 
 " Draft minutes." " Draft Decree." " Brief with you, Mr. Hal- 
 lerby, Q.C." All these in since I was here last. You lucky old 
 beggar ! Why, I know no end of fellows who've never had a brief. 
 I'm not interrupting you, am I ? ' 
 
 ' Not a bit,' said Orme, heartily. ' I was just going to knock off.' 
 It struck him that his young friend had some purpose in his visit, 
 which he didn't quite know how to touch upon ; there was some- 
 thing decidedly uneasy in his way of wandering about. ' Nothing 
 wrong, is there ? ' he asked. ' Anything you want to speak to me 
 about ? ' 
 
 ' Nothing, old boy ; don't alarm yourself. By Jove, you've just 
 reminded me,' said young Hotham, with an air of sudden recol- 
 lection that was too artless to be quite genuine. ' I'd forgotten 
 what it was I did come for it was this' here he produced a
 
 IN DOUBT 279 
 
 letter. ' It came just after you had gone,' he exclaimed, with a red- 
 dening complexion, ' so I er thought it might be important and 
 I'd bring it up.' 
 
 Nugent took it, and the younger man stood watching his face 
 while he read. Apparently Guy was not consoled by what he saw. 
 
 ' Thanks,' said Nugent, as he put the note in his pocket with a 
 quiet satisfaction. 
 
 ' It doesn't happen by any chance to be an invitation for Thurs- 
 day afternoon, after the Drawing-room, does it ? ' said Hotham, 
 unable to repress his curiosity. 
 
 ' It does why ? ' 
 
 ' Nothing only I thought you seemed rather pleased at it. I 
 shouldn't have fancied afternoon parties were much in your line. 
 Shall you go ? ' 
 
 ' If I can manage it, very probably,' said Orme, who had every 
 intention of going. 
 
 ' She's asked me, too.' 
 
 4 Miss Chevening has ? Well, are you going ? ' 
 
 ' Don't know I may. I say, Orme, if anyone else had asked 
 you, would you have gone ? ' 
 
 ' You're confoundedly curious to-day, my dear fellow.' 
 
 ' I know I am. I can't help it. Look here, Orme, I wish you 
 would tell me something. I'd no idea of this till to-day. I thought 
 she was beginning to I didn't think she'd write to any other 
 fellow ! ' 
 
 Orme raised his eyebrows. ' To ask him to come to an At 
 Home why the deuce shouldn't she ? ' 
 
 ' It wasn't that it was the way you looked when you read it. 
 Orme, it it's not a "case" with you, is it you know what I 
 mean ? ' 
 
 ' I won't pretend I don't. If I said yes, what would it matter to 
 you ? ' 
 
 ' A lot,' said Hotham. ' I tell you what, I'm awfully gone on 
 her, and where shall I be if you go in and cut me out ? ' 
 
 ' I've not cut you out yet, and I'm not likely to,' said Orme, 
 rather sadly. ' Most people would back your chances.' 
 
 ' Oh, I shall have the old place some day, when the old governor 
 drops, and and the title and all that. But what does a girl care 
 for that ! ' 
 
 Privately Orme was of opinion that a girl cared a good deal, but 
 he said nothing, and Hotham went on lugubriously. ' Anyway, I've 
 nothing at present, while you you're a clever chap, and no end of 
 a swell at most things ; you very nearly got your "blue " when you 
 were up, and I never got out of the <: torpids," and you'll be making 
 your fortune at the Bar before very long, and and it's devilish 
 hard after knowing her six months to find myself out of the run- 
 ning! ' 
 
 'Doesn't it strike you as rather absurd for us two to be contend- 
 ing with one another in modesty like this on the strength of a note
 
 280 THE PARIAH 
 
 asking us to come to tea ? Six months ! I've known her for nearly 
 three years, if you come to that.' 
 
 ' But she couldn't have been more than sixteen then,' exclaimed 
 Hotham. 
 
 ' I should say she was about nineteen not that it signifies.' 
 
 ' Not signify ! ' cried Hotham. ' It strikes me it does. You've 
 been speaking of the elder sister, Margot, all this time, haven't 
 you?' 
 
 ' Well ? ' 
 
 ' Well, it's the younger one, Ida, I meant but wasn't that letter 
 from her, then ? ' 
 
 ' Of course not 1 ' 
 
 ' I didn't know I fancied what funked me was your face when 
 you read it, and all the time by Jove, what an ass I've been ! ' 
 
 ' What asses we've both been,' remarked Ornie, a little annoyed 
 that he had allowed his secret to escape him. ' You've got this out 
 of me, Hotham, but for Heaven's sake don't imagine that this is 
 anything but a one-sided business this note is an ordinary invita- 
 tion. I'm nothing to her; it's as likely as not we don't meet a 
 second time this season. I doubt if her mother will give me many 
 opportunities of seeing her.' 
 
 ' You shall have your opportunities, though, all the same,' said 
 Hotham. ' You've heard me speak of my aunt, Mrs. Antrobus ? 
 Tremendous trump ; has a flat in Albert Hall Mansions. She'll do 
 anything for me. Well, I told her all about Ida, you know, and 
 got her to call on Mrs. Chadwick. And she took to Ida directly she 
 saw her, and means to ask her to all her parties. She's always 
 having a party of some kind prefers 'em young and pretty. Well, 
 of course, she can't ask one sister without the other, and, don't you 
 see ? I'll take care you get a card for anything that's going. My 
 aunt knows who you are ; you've only to come with me and call 
 some afternoon, and get the right side of the old lady, and it's your 
 own fault if you don't get an innings sooner or later ! ' 
 
 ' It's awfully good of you ! ' said Orme, who no longer regretted 
 his indiscretion. 
 
 1 Oh, now I know you're not my hated rival, I feel like a brother 
 to you 1 We may be brothers some day, old fellow, if everything 
 goes on right.' 
 
 Orme was afraid to reckon too confidently on the future ; still, 
 he felt that it looked brighter now than he had ever dared to hope. 
 He would see Margot again very shortly, if Guy Hotham kept his 
 word ; it would not be his only chance of seeing her. And he had 
 made up his mind that if he could see any sign that she was not 
 wholly indifferent to him, he would speak to her of his hopes before 
 the summer was over. There was no reason why he should hold 
 back any longer ; his practice had increased considerably within 
 the last year ; he was already making a fair income for a man of 
 his standing, and might look forward to marrying within the next 
 year or two.
 
 IN DOUBT 281 
 
 And yet, intensely as he longed for her, determined as he was 
 to win her for his own, he was conscious all the time how little he 
 really knew of her. He told himself that certain characteristics 
 which had given him a dumb pain to witness long ago, signs of 
 what, in anyone else, he would have called heartlessness, had faded 
 or been outlived. Had he not seen her conquering her prejudices, 
 had she not shown herself in that softened, sweetly repentant 
 mood ? But it was not that which had made him love her first 
 his love was unreasoning, instinctive he could not master it, but 
 at the same time he had always a haunting perception that it might 
 perhaps be better for him if he could. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 A PARTIAL SOLUTION. 
 
 Perhaps the smile and tender tone 
 
 Came out of her pitying womanhood. Maud. 
 
 IT might be thought that the addition of a single unit to the popu- 
 lation of a mighty city would make no very perceptible difference 
 to the appearance of its streets. Lovers know better. To Orme, 
 London had seemed transformed ever since he had known of Miss 
 Chevening's arrival. Born in the country and accustomed all his 
 life to open air and exercise, the great city, with its dingy bricks 
 and its second-hand atmosphere, generally oppressed his spirits and 
 told on his health as it does with all but natives. But now a 
 glamour had fallen upon the bustling streets, the Park and Gardens 
 were full of delightful possibilities. Nothing was commonplace, no 
 one uninteresting to him ; his daily walk back from chambers was 
 a romantic adventure ; such social invitations as came in his way 
 were accepted with a novel sense of excitement. For might not 
 her face at any moment flash across him from the throng ? Might 
 not any carriage he saw approaching contain her? Was it not 
 possible that he might find her amongst the company the very next 
 evening he went out ? 
 
 It seemed for some time that if he met her at all it would be in 
 some such accidental way. He called, but they were not at home, 
 and all his hopes of encountering her in public or private had so far 
 been disappointed. The possibility was always there, however, and 
 he kept up heart on that. Since the day on which Hotham had 
 brought him her letter, his worst anxiety was removed ; he would 
 certainly see her once, and have the opportunity of speaking to her 
 on this Thursday which was slowly approaching ; he could wait 
 more patiently in the meanwhile. 
 
 When the day came at last, he was engaged all day in court, as 
 junior counsel in a complicated patent case. The duty of feeding a
 
 282 THE PARIAH 
 
 querulous leader with the appropriate diagrams, specifications, affi- 
 davits, and photographs at the right moment kept him effectually 
 from thinking of more sentimental subjects, as the learned Q.C. 
 addressed an interminable argument to the judge in his peevish, high- 
 pitched voice, while the air of the court grew stumer and heavier 
 as the afternoon advanced. But when four o'clock came, and the 
 Court rose, what a deliverance it was to Orrne to get out into the 
 dim corridors, and how fervently he hoped, as he crossed from the 
 robing-room to his chambers, that he would find no work requiring 
 immediate consideration ! 
 
 To his relief there was nothing that could not stand over till 
 next day, and he made his escape at once ; it was too early to go to 
 Hyde Park, but there was the inseparable black bag to be left at 
 his rooms, Hotham to be picked up, if he had not already gone, and 
 then there were some slight changes in his toilet to be made before 
 he could feel himself worthy to meet his lady's eyes. It must be a 
 very strong-minded or self-confident lover who does not on such 
 occasions regard his ordinary raiment with a distrustful and dis- 
 paraging eye. 
 
 At last he and Hotham were on their way to the house opposite 
 Hyde Park ; the afternoon was raw and bleak, with a sullen leaden 
 sky, and a vicious east wind that drove the fine dust in stinging 
 showers and gave a pinched, blighted look to the faces in the street. 
 But within the house, which was full of people, the feminine ele- 
 ment being, of course, in a very decided majority, it was warm and 
 cheerful enough. The drawing-room party had not yet returned, 
 so that Lettice enjoyed the unaccustomed dignity of acting as de- 
 puty hostess upstairs. Nugent remained below in the tea-room 
 where Hotham had introduced him to Mrs. Antrobus, a middle-aged 
 lady of much vivacity. ' I've heard so much of you from my 
 nephew,' she told him ; ' such a good thing for him to be with 
 someone a little older than himself ! And I suppose yon are really 
 working at your profession ? I've always said that poor dear Guy 
 ought to have gone into the army, but his mother wouldn't hear of 
 it, and of course he'll never be anything but a barrister in name, if 
 he's that. I should be so thankful to see him settle down to some- 
 thing or someone, poor fellow ! London's so full of temptations for 
 a young man, Mr. Orrne. Don't you think so ? ' 
 
 Orrne said he thought she had no reason to be anxious on 
 Hotham's account. 
 
 ' You mustn't let him get into mischief if you can help it. He's 
 behaving himself very well just now, I must say if I could only 
 believe he was in earnest. When are these girls coming back, I 
 wonder ? They'll be perished with the cold such insanity to venture 
 out on such a day as this ! They're very late more presentations 
 than usual to-day, I suppose ; I can't run away till I've seen how 
 they look in their finery. Ah, here they are at last ! ' 
 
 Across the shaded lights and through the still unshrouded win- 
 dow Orrne saw the carriage dash up in the waning light, with the
 
 A PARTIAL SOLUTION 283 
 
 coachman and footman wearing those bouquets which custom- 
 Heaven knows why provides for their solace and refreshment on 
 this particular occasion. 
 
 She was coming he would see her now and yet, by one of 
 those strange contradictions in the human mind, he felt none of the 
 ecstacy he had expected nothing but a suspense that was absolute 
 pain. 
 
 As the two sisters entered, they were instantly rushed at by 
 admiring girl-friends, pitying, exclaiming, questioning, and compar- 
 ing experiences, while Nugent had nothing to do but to stand apart 
 and watch Margot as she stood there, holding her long train and 
 laughing and talking gaily. 
 
 She was looking radiant ; her complexion had not suffered either 
 from the cruel winds or the fatigue of the day ; her loveliness was 
 heightened rather than overborne by the elaborate costume ; the 
 small ostrich feather gave a statelier air to her graceful head ; he 
 felt an almost personal pride in the sight of her, and yet his heart 
 ached too. Could he reasonably expect this rare and exquisite being 
 to link her existence with his ? who was he that she should prefer 
 him above all others ? would it not be wiser to relinquish this dream 
 once for all ? 
 
 It might be, but he fully intended to persevere for all that ; no 
 pitiful self-distrust should hold him back from trying for the prize 
 he had set his heart on ; he knew that he had the power to make a 
 positii/n for her in time ; he would take no dismissal but hers. 
 
 And just then she saw him, and her sweet eyes shone with the 
 old frank pleasure. She was still his friend. 
 
 The room was thinning now, and he was able to come forward 
 and speak to her. 
 
 ' So you have actually come,' she said. ' I fancied you would 
 probably despise such vanities.' 
 
 ' I didn't know I was such a Diogenes as all that,' he answered. 
 
 ' Oh, but it does seem an absurd practice, when you come to 
 think of it, this solemn inviting of all one's friends to come and 
 gaze on people for no better reason than that they have just been 
 presented to their Sovereign. Confess that is what you have been 
 thinking.' 
 
 ' My conscience is quite clear.' 
 
 ' You say that quite nicely ; but it doesn't make me feel less 
 barbaric all the same. And now do you think you can get me a 
 cup of coffee and something to eat. I can't possibly hold out any 
 longer.' 
 
 So presently they were standing side by side before the usual 
 long table, and he was delightfully occupied in ministering to her 
 requirements. As they stood there, his eyes fell on one of the two 
 neat maids in attendance, and he speculated idly in passing why it 
 was that her face seemed familiar to him, though he not unnaturally 
 failed to identify Susan with the termagant nursemaid at Trouville, 
 who had been the means of first directing his attention to Miss
 
 284 THE PAEIAH 
 
 Chevening. Susan knew him, however, though she stood there, 
 demure and prim, as if her whole attention was concentrated on 
 her duties. 
 
 Margot was describing her day's experiences. 'And the hlocks 
 were so tiresome,' she said ; ' and the ugly common faces that came 
 up and flattened themselves against the glass, gasping like the fish 
 in an aquarium, only, unfortunately for us, they were not dumb. 
 Some of the rougher people seemed quite injured at our having the 
 insolence to go to Court, I felt so inclined to tell them that I wished 
 they were going instead of me, and that they would be more con- 
 tented if they knew how fearfully uncomfortable we were inside ! ' 
 
 ' I suppose it was all right when you were once at the palace ? ' 
 
 ' Not at all. It was so cold in those corridors and antechambers, 
 and the frightful responsibility of one's train never wear a train, 
 Mr. Orme,' she counselled him gravely in parenthesis. ' As for the 
 ceremony, I am very vague about it already. I remember our 
 names being called out, and that I kissed the Queen's hand, and got 
 through all my curtseying somehow without a mishap. I'd prac- 
 tised, you see. One girl that came after us was not so lucky, at 
 least she came out in tears. I don't know what had happened to 
 her, poor thing ! I think she suddenly lost her head and bolted at 
 the critical moment, and the Queen had her fetched back to do it 
 properly. How wretched she must be feeling now, mustn't she ? 
 I should have been very disappointed if her Majesty had not stayed 
 until our turn came ; there is nothing [Republican about me. You 
 are not a Radical, I hope ? ' 
 
 1 It would evidently be rash to admit it just now if I were,' he 
 said, ' but I should be very sorry to see our Royalty represented by 
 King Demos.' 
 
 ' Should you ? I am so glad,' she said ; ' so should I. Fancy 
 having to go to kiss his hand ! ' She made her pretty grimace at 
 the idea. ' I should run away then. But tell me what you have 
 been doing since I saw you last ; have you been working very hard, 
 and addressing British juries isn't that what you do ? ' 
 
 ' Juries are not in my department,' he explained ; ' but the other 
 day I had to face three Lords Justices of Appeal, which was a fear- 
 ful ordeal.' 
 
 4 Really ; why I met one of them out at dinner last week, and 
 he was delightful so amusing and pleasant 1 ' 
 
 ' They are not quite like that on the bench,' he said. ' I assure 
 you I passed a most uncomfortable morning. I made sure they 
 were all against me ; they put such tremendous posers, one after 
 another.' 
 
 ' Three against one doesn't sound very fair,' she said ; ' and so, 
 I suppose, you lost your what do you call it verdict ? No, case.' 
 
 ' Oh, I won my appeal,' he answered (he might have mentioned, 
 had he chosen, that he had even been complimented from the bench 
 on the ability he had shown), ' but won't you tell me about your 
 own doings now ? '
 
 A PARTIAL SOLUTION 285 
 
 ' There is so little to tell. Life in Gorsecombe is not exactly 
 fertile in incident, as you know. The chief thing is sad, and that 
 has happened since I have been away. Did you ever see Yarrow, 
 my collie ? he is ill, and I am very much afraid I shall never see 
 him again.' 
 
 He could almost have wished himself her dog, to be spoken of 
 in that tone of loving regret, to call that sudden shadow to her 
 bright eyes. ' I haven't dared to tell Lettice yet,' she added ; ' she 
 will be heartbroken, she has always been his favourite. I shall 
 never forget how wretched he was one day when she was quite 
 small and he tripped her up by accident in playing with her, and 
 hurt her knee. Nothing would content him but being allowed to 
 come into her room, and he remained there with his head on the 
 counterpane, trying to make her understand how grieved he was. 
 I can't bear to think he may have to be killed.' 
 
 How he loved her for the feeling she showed how doubly dear 
 she seemed for this touch of tenderness and sympathy and yet 
 with her usual perversity she contrived to destroy the effect almost 
 immediately. 
 
 There was a slight pause after she had spoken last, and then 
 Orme asked a question which caused her to become frigid and in- 
 different as if by some blighting spell. 
 
 ' By the way, 1 he inquired, ' have you heard from your step- 
 brother Allen lately ? ' 
 
 Somehow his former pupil had rather fallen out of his recollec- 
 tion of late, as persons do who take no means of recalling them- 
 selves to our minds ; in his visits to Gorsecombe he had not chanced 
 to hear the result of the indigo-planting scheme, and he asked 
 about Allen now with a sense of shame at his own forgetfulness. 
 
 ' From Allen ? ' she said carelessly too carelessly almost. ' Oh, 
 no, he does not write to me, you know.' 
 
 ' But his father has had news of him, I suppose ? ' said Orme. 'I 
 hope he is doing well out in India ? ' 
 
 ' Oh, I believe so. I I really do not know exactly. Shall we 
 go upstairs now ? ' 
 
 He saw that she did not mean to pursue the subject ; indeed, 
 the mention of that name had raised a sudden constraint between 
 them ; she led the way to the drawing-room and he followed, but 
 no more was said on either side. 
 
 Once more he had to be content with looking on, for Miss 
 Chevening was instantly surrounded as before. Lady Yaverland, 
 who had presented her nieces, was upstairs with the Miss Bradings, 
 whose first Drawing-room dated from a season further back than 
 they cared to remember, and poor Lord Yaverland, conscious of 
 not appearing to advantage in white knee-breeches and stockings 
 (he had once filled a minor post in a short-lived Administration), 
 kept himself and his fringed cocked-hat as much in the background 
 as possible and looked acutely miserable. 
 
 Guy Hotham was hovering about Ida, and though there were
 
 286 THE PARIAH 
 
 several people in the room Orme knew, he did not feel inclined to 
 make any further conversational openings just then. 
 
 But presently Lettice came up and shook hands with him. ' I 
 wonder how the Queen holds her Drawing-room ? ' she remarked. 
 ' Should you think she walked about and talked to all the people 
 just as mother is doing now ? I should like to talk to the Queen 
 wouldn't you ? ' 
 
 Nugent feared he might have a difficulty in finding something 
 to talk to her about. 
 
 ' I shouldn't,' said Lettice ; ' there's quite a lot of things I should 
 like to ask her.' 
 
 ' I believe it isn't considered proper to ask Eoyalty questions.' 
 
 ' Oh, but I should ask only polite ones and I should tell her 
 she needn't answer unless she liked. That wasn't what I came to 
 talk to you about, though ; there's something I want to know so 
 dreadfully, but I can't ask you here. Would you mind coming 
 down into the conservatory, where no one will hear us ? ' 
 
 Orme followed her obediently outside and down a few steps 
 to a small tiled alcove hung with Persian tapestries. 
 
 1 You were Allen's tutor once, weren't you '? ' began Lettice, ' long 
 ago before we knew him.' 
 
 ' Yes,' said Nugent ; ' for a short time I was.' 
 
 'He liked you,' she said ; 'he often told me so. And what I 
 want you to tell me is, if he has ever written to you to say what 
 has become of him, and how he is. I do want to know so very 
 much ! ' 
 
 ' He has not written tome, Lettice,' said Orme; 'but won't your 
 sister tell you all you want to know or Mr. Chadwick ? ' 
 
 ' Margot never likes talking about him,' said Lettice, ' not even 
 here. And I daren't ask papa. I should be sent to school if I 
 mentioned Allen's name even ; he said so. It's so dreadful, though, 
 to think of poor Allen wandering about with no one to care about 
 him, and no home to come back to ! ' 
 
 Orme started. ' What do you mean, Lettice ? wandering about 
 and no home to come back to ? I thought Allen was settled in 
 India, and doing well ! ' 
 
 ' Oh, no,' she said sadly, ' we don't know where he is. I don't 
 believe anybody at home cares, except me. And you haven't heard 
 you can't tell me about him? ' 
 
 ' I wish I could,' he said, with a painful sense of bewilderment ; 
 ' but but all this is new to me. I have been taking it for granted 
 that he was all right.' 
 
 ' I'm sorry,' said Lettice, with a little sigh. ' I suppose we 
 had better go back again now you don't mind my bringing you 
 down here all for nothing, do you ? ' 
 
 Orme returned to the drawing-room, where the people were be- 
 ginning to make a move. Mrs. Antrobus stopped in passing to give 
 him the invitation to come and see her, which would have meant 
 $o much to him a short time ago. Just then it seemed a mockery ;
 
 A PARTIAL SOLUTION 287 
 
 for it was, perhaps, pardonable in him, that Lettice's revelation 
 should affect him most powerfully in connection with Margot. He 
 had believed her to be frankness itself, he had hoped that she put 
 some confidence in him, and yet she knew that Allen was an out- 
 cast and a wanderer upon the face of the earth, and she had sup- 
 pressed this knowledge, and answered smoothly, carelessly, as if 
 though it concerned her not all were well with him ! 
 
 And, such is the egotism of a lover, it was the attempt at con- 
 cealment, the withdrawal of confidence in relation to himself, that 
 struck him most painfully, coming near to disenchanting him for 
 the moment. The deception seemed so wanton, so cynically reck- 
 less, that he was staggered. 
 
 He felt unable to stay there ; the sight of her, all loveliness and 
 animation, oppressed him now, and yet he could not go without 
 taking leave of her. He joined her as she stood at one of the 
 windows, looking out on the blue-grey dusk and the lines of lighted 
 lamps across the Park. ' Good-bye, Miss Chevening,' he said. 
 
 She turned to him. ' Are you going ? ' she said, and then her 
 nonchalance left her. 'Don't go just yet. There is something I 
 want to tell you first about Allen,' she added. 
 
 He held his breath ; if he could have spoken he would have 
 tried to prevent her he was in terror of some further insincerity. 
 
 ' I left you to suppose downstairs,' she began, in a rapid, breath- 
 less manner, with a glance back into the room beyond to make sure 
 that she was not overheard, 'I let you sxippose that there was 
 nothing to tell about him. There was a great deal only,' and she 
 smiled faintly, 'when there are two maid-servants on the other 
 side of a table listening with all their ears, it is not quite the most 
 convenient time for unlocking the family skeleton.' 
 
 He felt his doubts giving way with every word she spoke 
 in what a hurry he had been to judge her ! ' It was indiscreet of 
 me to ask as I did,' he admitted. ' I ought to have known better.' 
 
 ' Oh, I don't know how were you to anticipate ? Even I 
 but I had better tell you. My unhappy step-brother has destroyed 
 h'.s last chance ; he never even gave the indigo factory a trial, he 
 ran away on the voyage out, and his father has refused to have 
 anything more to do with him. We have heard nothing since. 
 Now you know all that there is to know,' she concluded. 
 
 He drew a deep breath of relief; his chief sensation was an 
 intense thankfulness that she had told him this herself, and shown 
 his suspicious of her candour to be so monstrously unjust. In the 
 revulsion of feeling he was not inclined to dwell, as he might have 
 done at some other time, upon the tone in which her announcement 
 was made. 
 
 ' I had hoped for better news,' he said gravely ; 'I am more sorry 
 than I can say.' 
 
 Orme was sincerely sorry, and yet, to himself, the words 
 sounded hollow and conventional for it was not of Allen that he 
 was thinking most just then.
 
 288 THE PARIAH 
 
 'I knew you would be,' she said; 'you always had a great 
 belief in him.' 
 
 ' I don't understand it,' he answered slowly ; ' it seems so 
 strange that he should have thrown up a plan without a trial 
 when it was his own idea, after persuading you to obtain his father's 
 consent. "What do you suppose his object could have been ? ' 
 
 ' I have not tried to suppose,' she replied, ' and, Mr. Orme, you 
 will understand, I am sure, that after what has happened, it is is 
 not a very pleasant subject to me. It would be a great relief for 
 me to feel that it is not to be revived between us again. He has 
 chosen to cut himself adrift from us all. It can do no possible good 
 to be for ever discussing the whole miserable business over and 
 over again, whenever we meet can it ? ' She said this with a 
 certain feverish impetuosity, and evident weariness of the subject. 
 
 ' I suppose not,' he agreed. ' 1 will not distress you like this 
 again, Miss Chevening.' 
 
 4 You will not ? Thank you so much ! Is it very hard-hearted of 
 me to say this ? I can't help it, and you must not suppose that I 
 am not sorry for him, or that I don't think of all this sometimes, 
 and wish it could have been different only I hate talking about it 
 so you do understand, don't you? ' 
 
 A man must have been much less in love than Orme was to 
 resist her just then, so winningly did she make that appeal, so wist- 
 fully anxious was she to retain his good opinion. 
 
 He went away more subjugated than ever. If the contrast 
 between her, in her luxury and gaiety, and her step -brother, the 
 son of the house, in exile, no one knew where, struck his imagina- 
 tion, he did not reproach her in his thoughts. She was not respon- 
 sible for it ; he believed that her heart was more touched by it 
 than she chose to acknowledge. 
 
 And if he could have wished to see more signs of this, if she was 
 really incapable of feeling all the compassion for Allen that might 
 be wished, were there not many excuses for her ? Was it not to her 
 credit that she made no pretences ? 
 
 So he argued with himself and never had he been more easy 
 to convince. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 WARNED. 
 
 Can I part her from herself, and love her, as I knew her, kind ? 
 
 Locksley Hall. 
 
 WHITSUNTIDK had come, and Nugent Orme was spending it at the 
 Vicarage. This time one powerful element of attraction was want- 
 ing, for Mies Chevening was not in Gorsecombe. But she was not 
 in town either, as he happened to know, for Mrs. Chadwick and her 
 two eldest daughters were away on a short visit, so that Orme's
 
 WARNED 289 
 
 Appreciation of home life was not troubled by thoughts of any sacri- 
 fices entailed. Thanks, too, to Guy Hotham and Mrs. Antrobus, 
 he now enjoyed frequent opportunities of seeing Margot Chevening, 
 and every meeting since the afternoon of the Drawing-room had 
 left him more deeply in love, more determined to speak to her at 
 the first propitious moment. The moment had not come as yet ; 
 indeed, of late her former frank friendliness had given place to a 
 constraint, almost a coldness, which he took as a discouraging 
 symptom. 
 
 Here in the peaceful Vicarage he found a temporary relief from 
 the distracting alternations of hope and despair he had been going 
 through, in addition to the heavy work of his profession during the 
 past term. His mind was as full of her as ever, but insensibly his 
 thoughts took a more hopeful cast. 
 
 More than once he felt tempted to confide in Millicent, in order 
 to find out how his prospects looked in her eyes, but he could not 
 bring himself to do so. It not unfrequently happens that a man's 
 sister is the person whom he finds it most difficult to consult in 
 matters of the heart. A sister is apt occasionally to see her 
 brother's tender passion in a frivolous or even a comic light, espe- 
 cially when she happens to be acquainted with the object of it. 
 Not that Millicent was a girl to do this, or that Orme feared any 
 want of sympathy on her part ; there had always been a complete 
 understanding between them, in spite of the difference in their 
 characters. 
 
 But a feeling he could not account for made him guard his 
 secret even from her for some days after his arrival, and then it 
 was Millicent who first approached the subject. 
 
 It was a lovely evening in early June, and they were pacing the 
 lawn together after dinner, as the first star came softly out in the 
 apple-green sky over the common, and a sad, subdued tone deadened 
 without confusing all the form and colour around them. 
 
 4 1 forgot to ask you whether you saw Mr. Chadwick when you 
 went up there this afternoon ? ' said Millicent. 
 
 4 Oh, yes, he was at home,' he answered ; ' he struck me as 
 having altered, Millie. He talked rather wildly once or twice. 
 Does he drink, do you know ? ' 
 
 4 They say so,' she admitted rather reluctantly. 4 He never goes 
 anywhere now. But what made you go and call upon him ? I did 
 not know you were particularly fond of him.' 
 
 4 I'm not, and I felt less fond of him than ever this afternoon ; 
 he did nothing but abuse fashion and extravagance and women, 
 and was altogether so incoherent and generally unpleasant that I 
 was glad to get away.' 
 
 ' But why did you go to see him at all, dear ? It wasn't at all 
 necessary, surely.' 
 
 ' Oh ! ' said Orme, ' I went to get some pieces of music Miss 
 Chevening asked me to find for her.' 
 
 To his sister's fine ear he betrayed himself by the almost im 
 
 V
 
 290 THE PARIAH 
 
 perceptible lingering over the surname, as if he found (as he did) a 
 subtle pleasure in merely pronouncing it. 
 
 ' Then you have seen Margot lately often, Nugent ? ' 
 
 ' Pretty often yes,' he replied ; he was not unwilling to speak 
 of her just then, he was almost ready to pour all his doubts and 
 fears, his hope and ambition, into Millicent's ear ; it was the place 
 and hour for such confidences. ' Why do you ask ? ' he added. 
 
 ' I was wondering,' said Millicent, as she halted in the deeper 
 dusk under the great cedar. ' Will you tell me something if I ask 
 you ? ' she continued after a pause. ' I used to fancy you would 
 come to me first, if you had news. Is there anything between 
 you and Margot ? ' 
 
 ' No, Millie, not yet.' 
 
 ' I am so glad ! ' she said. ' I was afraid it was too late to 
 speak.' 
 
 ' Why should you be afraid, Millie ? you know her. Is there 
 someone else someone about here ? I must know if there is.' 
 
 ' No no ; not that I have heard of it isn't that, Nugent.' 
 
 ' Then I don't care,' he said. 
 
 ' You have really fallen in love with her ? ' she asked anxiously. 
 ' Is it serious, Nugent ? ' 
 
 ' As serious as it can be,' he said. ' You seem to have a very 
 poor opinion of my prospects, Millie.' 
 
 ' Nugent, believe me it will be better for you to forget her if you 
 can you will be happier in the end ! ' 
 
 ' Excellent advice, but not very practical, Millicent. I can't 
 forget her. I don't want happiness if that's to be the price of it. 
 I may have no chance, as you seem to think, but I'm not exactly 
 going to give up in advance.' 
 
 ' Tell me why you love her. Because she is beautiful or 
 because you believe she is good? ' 
 
 ' What questions ! I love her because she is herself that is 
 enough for me, Millicent.' 
 
 ' But if you were mistaken in her, if she were not what you 
 think her ? oh, I know I shall make you angry with me but 
 indeed, indeed she is not worthy of you ; she is not not good, 
 Nugent ! ' 
 
 ' And this is your idea of friendship ! ' he cried scornfully. 
 
 ' I was her friend once not now. Dear Nugent, be patient 
 with me. I would not speak now if it were too late to be of any 
 use. But I cannot stand by and let my only brother throw his 
 heart away like this I cannot. I want to save you from doing 
 what you will repent of some day. No wait, listen. I know how 
 sweet she can be, how lovely she is to look at. There was a time 
 when I should have baan glad to have her for my sister. That was 
 before I knew how cruel she really was, how merciless she can be 
 under all that sweetness.' 
 
 Hideous doubts, reviving and clutching his heart as he listened, 
 kept him a listener still.
 
 WARNED 291 
 
 4 What have you fro say against her ? ' he said, ' Let us have it 
 .out.' 
 
 ' You cannot know the part she took in sending that poor step- 
 trother of hers away ! ' 
 
 ' I do know it,' he said. ' I know that in what she did she was 
 anxious only for his benefit. He represented that he was longing 
 to go out and shift for himself on this Bengal plantation he begged 
 her to help him and get his father's consent. She did. Was it her 
 fault that it turned out badly or that his fancy did not last, or was 
 a sham to start with ? She disliked him, I know ; she owned it 
 from the first ; but then, at least, she was honestly trying to do 
 her best for him ; and you make that a reproach against her ! As 
 if she can be made responsible for results no one could foresee at 
 the time. Do you call that religion and charity ? ' 
 
 ' Did she tell you that he was anxious to go out ? It is not 
 true, Nugent. Listen to me you must. I never meant to let this 
 pass my lips, but you are more to me than she is, and I must say 
 what I know. Allen Chadwick did not want to go. So far from that, 
 he begged and prayed to stay at home, and it was Margot for what 
 reason I don't know who was allowed to decide whether he should 
 be sent away or not. She insisted, in spite of his entreaties, that 
 he must go. She and no one else is to blame for all that followed.' 
 
 ' That is enough. Millicent,' he interrupted roughly. ' Do you 
 suppose I can't see what it is that embitters you against her ? You 
 can't forgive her for being beautiful. If you were able to judge 
 fairly, you would not condescend to repeat this silly village gossip 
 you would feel as I feel, that it disproves itself! ' 
 
 ' Nugent,' said Millicent gravely, ' it is not village gossip. Be 
 more just to me. Should I tell you all this unless I knew it to be 
 true ? Poor Allen Chadwick told me himself how he dreaded the 
 idea of being sent away ; the last time I met him he was more 
 hopeful it was left to Margot to decide. The next thing I heard 
 was that he had gone. I taxed Margot with it and, Nugent, she 
 admitted everything! She knew how reluctant he was to go out 
 and how unlikely to prosper there, but she wished to be relieved of 
 him and decided for his being banished. She did not even seem to 
 see that she had done anything to be ashamed of. He was in Eng- 
 land still at the time, and I implored her to get him recalled even 
 then ; I pointed out that he would almost certainly be driven to 
 despair and ruin but she would not yield. Nugent, can you hear 
 that a girl you love has done this and not feel some change towards 
 her ? If you can, it is a beautiful face and nothing else that you 
 love, and such love as that must end in certain misery.' 
 
 Nugent sat down on the bench under the cedar and covered his 
 face. Millicent 's words, spoken without animus, with such intense 
 earnestness, dropped conviction into his soul like a corrosive 
 acid. 
 
 It was impossible to disbelieve her, strive as he might. Various 
 circumstances which had puzzled and pruned him at .the time came 
 
 u2
 
 292 THE PARIAH 
 
 back now with terrible corroborative force. For the first time he saw 
 their significance. Those indications of remorse on Margot's part, 
 which he had thought the effect of a generous heart and an over- 
 sensitive conscience, were miserably inadequate for such a wrong 
 as hers. 
 
 He no longer wondered that she should have attempted to keep 
 him in ignorance of what had become of Allen, or that she should 
 order the subject to be dropped between them in future. 
 
 The revolution this wrought in his conceptions of her can hardly 
 be over-stated. He had seen, of course, and not without a certain 
 comprehension, her strong antipathy to Allen. But he had pictured 
 her as overcoming it, setting herself to see and encourage what was 
 good in him, acting as his confidant and ally in carrying out hia 
 rash project of trying his fortune in India; she had seemed the 
 more lovable and sweet for this condescension. 
 
 And all that it seemed had never been ! He had been deluded 
 by his love and by her own skill in distorting facts. The project 
 was hers not Allen's : what she had done was only in furtherance 
 of her own selfish aims ; she had forced him into exile, careless 
 what became of him so long as she gained her end ; she had done 
 this in spite of entreaties and reproaches, in the full knowledge of 
 what must follow. And now, when the natural end had come, and 
 this poor unloved, unoffending Allen was swallowed up by the 
 quicksand into which her hand had thrust him, she looked as sweet 
 and fair and innocent as ever ; her laugh was as true, her gaiety as 
 real, as if no thought of what she had done ever seriously troubled 
 her peace ! 
 
 The girl, whose heart all his hopes had long been set on winning, 
 was capable, then, of such cruelty and callousness as this ? Would 
 his love survive this disenchantment ? Had it already received its 
 deathblow ? His brain was too bruised and stunned as yet for any 
 self- examination of this sort. 
 
 For anything he could tell, he might be unable to conquer his 
 love for her, in spite of everything, but all that was best and highest 
 in that love would have departed from it for ever. Already ho 
 foresaw the misery of a passion which judgment condemned ! 
 
 He sat there silent so long that Millicent could not forbear from 
 some expression of compassion. ' Poor boy,' she said, laying her 
 hand upon his shoulder, ' I know how hard it is for you but isn't 
 it better to know this now than afterwards when it might be too 
 late ! ' 
 
 He shook off her hand impatiently. ' For God's sake, don't try 
 to console me,' he said. ' I'm not in the mood to stand that just 
 yet ! ' 
 
 ' I only want to be quite sure that you are not angry with me, 
 dear,' she pleaded ; ' and and, Nugent, you won't go on caring 
 for her after this, will you ? ' 
 
 She was too anxious to discover the precise effect of what she 
 bad told him to exercise the little tact she possessed.
 
 WARNED 293 
 
 1 How do I know ? ' he said, looking up with a white face. ' One 
 doesn't get over these things all at once, Millicent.' 
 
 ' But you do believe what I say ? ' she persisted. ' You will not 
 take her word against mine ? ' 
 
 Till that moment it had not occurred to him to dispute the 
 substantial accuracy of her account, but her injudicious insistence 
 had the effect she least intended. 
 
 ' You may be perfectly right,' he said, ' but why should you be 
 afraid of my asking her for her version ? ' 
 
 ' Oh, Nugent,' she cried, ' don't do that ; be content with mine. 
 Try not to see her again ; it is wiser, believe me ! ' 
 
 ' Wise or foolish, I shall see her again. I shall ask her myself 
 about this. I will not judge her without knowing more than I do 
 now I don't doubt what you have told me, but but there may be 
 other circumstances which you have not heard of, which would 
 explain everything.' 
 
 ' She will persuade you so, no doubt,' said Millicent bitterly. 
 
 ' She is not likely to care to take the trouble,' he replied. ' You 
 will probably have the satisfaction of separating us, whatever the 
 real facts may be. You have not wasted your evening, Millicent.' 
 
 ' Ah, Nugent,' she said tearfully, ' don't speak like that to me ; 
 have I any other object but your happiness ? ' 
 
 He was too sore to be just or rational just then. 
 
 ' If that is so,' he retorted, ' I'm afraid your efforts are a little 
 unfortunate. Yoii had better go in now the mother has come to 
 the window to look for us.' 
 
 ' Are you coming in too, Nugent ? ' 
 
 ' You think a cup of tea will be a remedy ? No, thank you, 
 Millicent. I'm better left alone just now. Go and for heaven's 
 sake don't let them see you've been crying ! ' 
 
 He turned abruptly down the path to the garden gate and out 
 upon the road, leaving Millicent to make what excuses she could 
 for him. ' I thought you were never coming in,' said Mrs. Orme. 
 ' What have you and Nugent been gossiping about all this time ? ' 
 
 ' Oh, I don't know,' said Millicent vacantly ; ' there were so 
 many things to talk about may I put the shade on that lamp, 
 dear, it dazzles my eyes so ? ' 
 
 Meanwhile Nugent was hurrying aimlessly on through the warm 
 dark night. As he set out, the upper windows in the village street 
 were gleaming yellow under their black gables. When he passed 
 them again on his return, they reflected the livid grey-green of a new 
 dawn, and the air had grown chill, and the birds in the Vicarage 
 garden were beginning to utter their first sleepy and tentative 
 chirps. 
 
 Where he had been in the meantime he hardly knew, beyond a 
 vague impression of striding on along the grey high road, under 
 black arching elms, past woods faint with wild hyacinths, through 
 shuttered villages, his mind the whole time painfully striving with 
 the problem of his future relations with Margot.
 
 294 THE PARIAH 
 
 If what he Tiad heard was true, it was impossible that he could 
 ever think of her in the same way again. Was it true ? The longer 
 he thought of it the greater grew the improbability that Milhcent 
 could have invented or been seriously mistaken in her facts. 
 
 He had declared that he would appeal to Margot herself, but in 
 his cooler state he began to see how difficult this would be, how un- 
 likely to end in any satisfactory solution. She had already forbidden 
 the subject : she would probably refuse to admit his right to re- 
 open it. 
 
 Even if she denied the charge ever so indignantly and haugh- 
 tily, would he believe her ? He knew in his heart that he would 
 not. 
 
 And with all this, he felt that his love was not killed ; in the 
 midst of his fiercest indignation her vivid face came before him 
 like a challenge to turn away from her and forget her if he could. 
 He despised himself for this bondage of the reason to the senses, 
 but he was powerless to effect his liberty. 
 
 There was even a time in the course of that night's walk in 
 which he felt the temptation to do and say nothing, to acquiesce in 
 the lowering of his ideal and shut his eyes to all that would revolt 
 him in any other person. What if she were unscrupulous, selfish, 
 pitiless to another, was he so immaculate himself as to condemn 
 her ? "What mattered anything so long as he could gain her love. 
 Why should he make Allen's cause his own, now that he could do 
 him no good by it. 
 
 But this mood did not last. Some men might have taken this 
 cynical view and acted upon it but not Orme. His detestation of 
 conduct such as he believed hers to have been was too thorough ; he 
 would have pardoned almost anything else certainly any wrong 
 to himself but he felt it would be weakness here weakness that 
 would bring its own punishment. 
 
 And yet, if they met, if he were again under the spell of her eyes 
 and her voice, could he be sure of his power to resist ? No, he de- 
 cided ; he might yield, if she chose to persuade him, but he had 
 strength at least to keep out of temptation. He would avoid her, 
 he would go nowhere where he had any reason to expect to find 
 her. Should he meet her, it would be in some crowd where nothing 
 but ordinary civilities would be required of him. It was not an 
 heroic course, but it was better than an ignominious surrender. 
 
 With this resolution, wrung from him after a long and wearying 
 struggle, he came home with a feeling that the crisis had passed.
 
 THE TORTURES OF INDECISION 295 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE TORTURES OF INDECISION. 
 
 Lea violences qu'on se fait pour s'empecher d'aimer sont souvent plua 
 cruelles que les rigueurs de ce qu'on aime. La Rochefoucauld. 
 
 ORME came back to town strong in his new resolve ; he declined 
 one or two invitations to houses where there was a distinct proba- 
 bility that he would meet Miss Chevening ; he called at the Hyde 
 Park house and left the music she had asked him to get for her, but 
 went away without having inquired whether Mrs. Chadwick was 
 at home. 
 
 He took up his work with desperate energy; he had several 
 cases on his hands just then which called for all his attention, and 
 for a time they served as a sufficient distraction from his private 
 cares ; he even began to believe that he was cured, and that his 
 hurt had been less deep than he had fancied. 
 
 But when the press of work subsided and he was comparatiyely 
 unoccupied, he awoke to the blank dreariness of the life he had set 
 himself to lead ; the novelty and exciting sense of effort which lend 
 a certain interest to the first stage of most self-denying ordinances 
 had already disappeared. He groaned at his own inconsistency, at 
 being able neither to feel as before towards Margot, nor to cast her 
 wholly out of his thoughts. 
 
 He was thinking of all this one night when Hotham came up to 
 his room. Orme had seen little of him of late, though they occupied 
 the same house ; for the younger man spent few of his evenings at 
 home, and besides, being no early riser, had not shown himself in 
 chambers for a considerable time. 
 
 So Nugent was glad to see him enter now. Guy's cheery talk 
 was a welcome relief to his own gloomy meditations. ' Knew you 
 wouldn't have turned in just yet,' said Guy as he came in, buttoning 
 an elaborately braided smoking coat over his evening dress, ' so I 
 thought I'd come in and have a chat. Haven't had one for an 
 age.' 
 
 'You're not in as early as this as a rule,' remarked Orme, 
 ' which accounts for it.' 
 
 ' Been dining with Mrs. Chadwick. Didn't care about going on 
 anywhere afterwards. I tell you what, Orme, I'm getting awfully 
 hard hit over that second daughter, Ida, and I don't believe,' he 
 added plaintively, ' she cares a single blow about me ! She's so 
 young, you see. She don't understand what love and all that sort 
 of thing means. Not that I'd have her different, that's the great 
 charm Of her to me. Think of knowing that one would be the very
 
 206 THE PARIAH 
 
 first in a girl's heart. When a girl's been through two or three 
 seasons, you can't feel that. I don't know if you are like me, but 
 I couldn't bear the idea that a girl had cared for any other fellow 
 before me.' 
 
 ' What does it matter ? ' said Orme, ' so long as she has left off 
 caring for him. You're too exacting. Could you fulfil the same 
 condition yourself ? ' 
 
 ' That's different,' said Guy. ' Call it absurd if you like, that's 
 the feeling I have about it.' And then he went off into a rhapsody, 
 expatiating on Ida's perfections. Orme heard him patiently; he 
 was not particularly interested in Ida, who struck him as unformed 
 and somewhat characterless, but she was Margot's sister Guy had 
 probably met Margot herself that evening he longed, in spite of 
 his resolves, to hear her name. 
 
 ' I tell you everything about my love affair,' said Guy, when he 
 had exhausted the subject, 'but you never tell me how things are 
 going between you and the fair Miss Margot ! She was saying this 
 evening that she never saw you now. You could have met her at 
 several places lately if you had taken the trouble.' 
 
 ' I've been busy, 1 said Orme. 
 
 ' You would have managed to go all the same, if you had cared 
 about it. I don't want to be indiscreet, old fellow, but have you 
 quarrelled ? ' 
 
 'No.' 
 
 ' Then why are you fighting shy of her like this ? ' 
 
 ' Because I've come to the conclusion t's the wisest thing to do, 
 if you want to know.' 
 
 ' Well, you know best, but you're not likely to get her if you 
 never go near her, you know are you ? ' 
 
 * Look here, Guy, it's as well to have this understood. I was 
 mistaken in what I told you about Miss Chevening some time ago 
 you must forget it.' 
 
 1 Mistaken ? Not you I know better. Do you think I didn't 
 see how you brightened up at her very name ? ' said Guy, with a 
 simple boyish pride in his own penetration. ' Come, don't you be 
 an old ass, Orme. I doubt if it's anything like so hopeless as you 
 seem to think anyway, where's the sense of throwing away all 
 your chances to gratify your precious pride ? ' 
 
 ' You don't understand.' 
 
 ' Don't I ? Well, you don't deserve it, but I'm going to give 
 you one more chance. If you let this go, I shan't take any more 
 trouble about it. I've induced my aunt to get up a water-party 
 next Saturday she has a mortal funk of a boat, but that's neither 
 here nor there. The Chevening girls are going I settled all that 
 this evening I've undertaken to find some men to come and row. 
 Will you come ? ' 
 
 ' I don't see how I could get away in tune,' said Orme irreso- 
 lutely. 
 
 'Ah, there you are I But you ought to know, if you don't, that
 
 THE TOBTtJKES OP INDECISION 297 
 
 the Courts won't sit at all on Saturday. I saw it in the paper to-day, 
 there's a meeting of the Judges, or something ; noio what excuse 
 have you got ? ' 
 
 Orme sat reflecting ; he was a little ashamed of his own cow- 
 ardice, he must meet Margot at some time, why not get it over ? 
 Might not the effect of meeting her face to face after what he knew 
 be to hreak the spell ? 
 
 He caught even at so flimsy a pretext as this. ' Very well,' he 
 said at last, ' I'll come.' But if he had not already felt the hollow- 
 ness of this philosophy, the load that was lifted from his spirits, the 
 sense he had of recovered interest in life, should have sufficed to 
 undeceive him. 
 
 Yet, when Saturday came, and, as the party assembled on the 
 Paddington platform, he saw her once more, he felt a sudden fear 
 of himself. Why could he not restrain his heart from beating 
 faster at the sight of her ? Why did the mere touch of her gloved 
 hand send the old thrill through him ? He was far indeed from a 
 cure as yet, as he acknowledged to himself in humiliation. But he 
 must harden his heart against her, and he would remember that this 
 same girl, who stood there with her exquisite face and sparkling eyes 
 in almost childlike anticipation of enjoyment, was utterly without 
 heart, capable of sacrificing anyone who stood in her path with the 
 most consummate selfishness. The thought of Allen what he might 
 have been, and what, owing to her, he was came to Nugent's aid now. 
 
 ' I thought we should have met before this,' she was saying, ' or 
 I should have written to thank you for getting those songs for 
 me." 
 
 ' It was not worth it,' he replied with a guilty consciousness of 
 the treasure her letter would have been to him. 
 
 ' You might have spared time to come in ! ' she said ; ' we were 
 all at home that afternoon.' 
 
 ' Thank you ; I was not able to come in, unfortunately.' 
 
 ' Eeally ? But no doubt your time is very much occupied.' 
 She spoke lightly enough, and yet there was a suspicion of pain in 
 the mockery that lit her eyes. 
 
 1 It is,' he said ; he felt that he was going to the other extreme 
 in his efforts to withstand her. and that she saw and resented his 
 brusqueness, but he could not help it. 
 
 'And yet you are going to give up a whole day 1 Isn't that 
 rather unwise ? ' 
 
 ' Possibly but I will take the risk.' 
 
 She made no answer, a coldness was established between them 
 as they stood there, and presently she turned and walked on with 
 the others towards the train, Orme followed without keeping at her 
 side. They were too many for all to travel in the same compart- 
 ment, and he deliberately chose the one in which she was not. 
 His reflections during the short journey to Taplow were sombre 
 enough. He called himself a fool for coming doubly a fool for
 
 298 THE PARIAH 
 
 being unable to command himself better. Why could he not trust 
 himself to look at her, to speak to her : what would she care 
 whether he kept away or not ? All the way down he was picturing 
 her in the adjoining compartment, straining his ears to catch her 
 voice, her clear low laugh, and still he knew that, in avoiding her, 
 he would be sparing himself much distress of mind in the future. 
 
 He had been impatient for the train to stop and give him the 
 opportunity of seeing her again, but when this happened and they 
 were all walking down to the landing-stage, he could not bring 
 himself to approach her. He sought a safeguard in the society of 
 one of his fellow-travellers a young lady who had come in high- 
 heeled shoes, and a dust cloak as a useful precaution on the river. 
 Her remarks were neither many nor particularly entertaining, but 
 he tried to give his whole attention to listening and replying 
 anything to prevent his thoughts from straying to the graceful 
 figure in front. 
 
 Where had all his indignation departed to ? She had sunk 
 infinitely below his ideal of her, forfeited her title to true and ten- 
 der womanhood : what she had done was utterly repellent to him 
 yet, now that he saw her, he could not feel this repulsion. 
 
 Was his love unaltered, then, in spite of all ? He knew that 
 this could not be, that what remained was a passion robbed of all 
 the spirituality that lifts love above the common earth. Should he 
 descend to such a level love without trust, without respect ? 
 Never, he swore to himself; he saw his danger, he knew his weak- 
 ness, he would be on his guard for this one day, and be wiser in 
 future. 
 
 So, during the inevitable discussion that took place on the 
 Maidenhead landing-stage for, like most water-parties, they had 
 started with no very definite plan Orme did not go near Miss 
 Chevening or join more than was absolutely necessary in the rather 
 protracted debate. 
 
 At last the arrangements got themselves settled in some way : 
 it was decided to row as far up the river as time allowed, have 
 afternoon tea in some river-side inn garden, and return to dinner at 
 the hotel. 
 
 ' Now about boats ? ' said Guy Hotham. ' We'd better take 
 three, I think. Miss Chevening, are you going to row ? ' 
 
 ' If I may,' said Margot, who was stripping off her gloves. ' I 
 haven't rowed for ever so long. I want to see if I have forgotten.' 
 She was charming in her splendid physical health and joyous 
 vitality. Orme could not help allowing his eyes to dwell on her 
 with something of the old wondering delight. 
 
 ' All right, then,' he heard Hotham answer; 'then will you take 
 bow in this first boat ? Your sister and I will look after the steering, 
 and Orme will stroke he's a swell at it, rowed in his College boat 
 np at Oxford. Where has he got to ? ' 
 
 Before Orme's resolutions could be exposed to this fresh test, 
 Miss Chevening had calmly interposed : ' Not Mr. Orme, please,'
 
 THE TOETURES OF INDECISION 299 
 
 Bhe said ; ' my rowing is not up to the College standard. I would 
 much rather not spoil his pleasure and mine. Find me someone 
 not quite so superior." 
 
 Guy did not, of course, permit himself to show any astonishment 
 at this. ' Poor old Orme ! ' was his inward comment ; ' not much 
 chance there, I'm afraid. Girls are rum things I thought she 
 rather liked him than not.' 
 
 Whether Margot had intended Orme to hear her reply or not, 
 he did hear it', and, inconsistently enough, was mortified. But the 
 next moment he experienced a sardonic amusement of this revela- 
 tion of his own lurking vanity and insincerity. What a miserable 
 humbug, what a conceited prig he was, after all, he thought wrath- 
 fully ; had he not determined to keep away from her ? She had 
 seen his intention and very naturally forestalled him. What else 
 could he expect what else in the name of common sense did he 
 want ? He had no right to be there at all if he could not avoid 
 ridiculous Byronics ; whatever he felt and must feel, he would for- 
 swear posing. 
 
 So he did his best to throw off all unhealthy sentiment, and 
 devote himself to entertaining Mrs. Antrobus and the young lady 
 of the dust-cloak as they sat in front of him, expressing their ad- 
 miration of river scenery with the ghastly smiles of nervous persons 
 who are carrying their lives in their hands. 
 
 And in course of time he succeeded in removing their worst 
 terrors and convincing them that they might feel tolerably safe 
 under his care and that of his companion. Mrs. Antrobus became 
 more and more gracious as her alarm vanished, and, being a chatty 
 and lively old lady on terra firma, was gradually drawn into dis- 
 playing almost her normal powers of conversation. Orme, some- 
 what to his surprise, found himself able to talk and laugh, even to 
 feel a growing pleasure in all his surroundings, in the scent of the 
 late hawthorn and meadowsweet on the banks, the cool shade of 
 the noble woods as they glided past, the deep-blue sky, veined and 
 streaked like marble with pure white, and in the musical plash of 
 the sculls as they struck the water. 
 
 The boats kept together as much as possible, and sometimes 
 Margot's was near enough to allow him to notice the grace and 
 ease with which she managed her sculls, the unsuspected capacity 
 of those soft and shapely hands of hers ; her voice reached him 
 across the water such a clear, sweet voice, with that delicate in- 
 flection of haughtiness. Now and then they came to a lock, with 
 its pretty rustic cottage and gay little garden of rose-trees, stocks, 
 and marigolds ; and here, though he had to give his attention to 
 keeping his boat away from posts and chains while the water rose, 
 not one of Miss Chevening's looks or words escaped him as she sat 
 close by. 
 
 But he was able to take note of her almost dispassionately now. 
 She might look as distractingly lovely as ever, turn the head, as she 
 seemed in a fair way to do, of the good-looking youth in the stroke
 
 800 THE PARIAH 
 
 seat, Orme felt no jealousy ; he had resigned all his own pretensions ; 
 what harm was there in studying her, so long as he remembered 
 that he must beware of anything more ? 
 
 "When they landed for afternoon tea at a river-side inn garden, 
 she made some indifferent little remark to him, as if she did not 
 choose to allow anything so pronounced as a mutual avoidance, and 
 he was glad to take the way of escape offered him from the straits 
 into which his own want of self-command had brought them. But 
 although they talked for some little time, he could see that she did 
 so for form's sake, and perfectly understood and was satisfied that 
 the friendship between them was at an end. 
 
 He did not sit near her when tea was brought out under the 
 trees r>n the lawn, but he observed that she was amongst the most 
 lighthearted of the party ; her laughter had a painful sound to his 
 ear. Yet why should she not laugh ? She was giving up nothing. 
 
 Well, thank Heaven, the worst was over now ! There was not 
 much more of this day to get through ; they would be rowing home 
 soon, and he would be out of sight of her dear face. He felt that 
 his attitude of dispassionate study was not tenable after all. 
 
 But when the time came for re-embarking, Mrs. Antrobus took 
 it into her head to rearrange the crews, with the result that Orme 
 had to give up his sculls to a young man who had not been rowing 
 as yet. 
 
 4 Miss Chevening, will you come in my boat, please ? ' she said ; 
 ' I am sure you must want some rest.' 
 
 ' I'm not a bit tired ! ' said Margot eagerly. ' Indeed I would 
 rather row if you don't mind I ' 
 
 1 Then you shall. Mr. Orme, will go up to that little seat in the 
 end, and you can take the place next to it.' 
 
 The other boats were already occupied, and Margot had nothing 
 to do but consent, though she would perhaps have preferred to ex- 
 cuse herself. She was obliged to accept Orme's hand in stepping 
 into the boat, which she did without looking at him. 
 
 After all, it was Orme who had least cause to welcome an 
 arrangement which broke through all his resolutions, and yet he 
 was disagreeably conscious of a secret satisfaction in being in her 
 near neighbourhood. He need not speak to her, only lie there in 
 a sort of dream, listening to the tinkle and murmur of the water at 
 the bows, and lazily watching the flakes of liquid light contracting, 
 expanding, and interlacing over the olive-green ripples, while his 
 eyes returned again and again to the figure immediately before him. 
 Her face was hidden from him, except that, as she turned her head 
 now and then, he had a glimpse of the pure oval of her cheek, 
 touched by the mellow light. 
 
 How could she look so innocent of all that was cold and cruel, 
 and yet be what she was? what she must be, if Millicent had 
 spoken truth? "What if he carried out his first intention after 
 all, and asked Margot to tell him her story ? Oh, it was too late 
 for that ! This afternoon had sundered them too far to make it ever
 
 THE TOBTUKES OF INDECISION 801 
 
 possible to ask for any explanation with the slightest hope that she 
 would deign to give it. 
 
 Then he came to himself with a start. How much longer would 
 he vacillate like this? Had he not realised long ago that no expla- 
 nation she could give would alter the impression of Millicent's 
 words ? Let him be thankful, then, that he was saved from the 
 temptation of ignobly condoning what he knew should steel his 
 heart against her for ever. 
 
 In the meantime it was sweet, subtly, poisonously sweet, to lie 
 there and fancy what might have been. 
 
 But here something happened which put an end to all idle 
 dreaming of this kind. As he lay there in the bows he was startled 
 by the sound of oars seemingly close behind them, and turned to 
 see a racing ship bearing down on them at a good rate. 
 
 ' Oh, dear ! ' cried Mrs. Antrobus helplessly, ' there's a boat right 
 in front of us ; what ought I to do now ? ' For the good lady, owing 
 to the incapacity of her young friend in the dust-cloak, had been 
 holding the rudder-lines, with the management of which she was 
 scarcely more familiar. Being requested to ' pull to the right 
 hard,' she naturally hauled at the left with all the energy of 
 complete flurry, and Orme, shouting to warn the approaching 
 oarsmen, who had no coxswain, leaned forward with outstretched 
 hand to break the shock of the collision which was now inevitable. 
 Unfortunately for him, he had not calculated for the way on the 
 other boat the iron -tipped prow of the light ship caught his hand, 
 and crushed it against the gunwale of the boat he was in, wedging 
 it in the cleft it made in the upper plank. Neither boat, however, 
 possibly owing to his interposition, was injured seriously ; there was 
 the usual confusion and exchange of slightly recriminatory apologies, 
 and then both boats went on their way. 
 
 ' "What stupid people ! ' Mrs. Antrobus remarked placidly, ' not 
 to look where they were going to. I quite expected we should all 
 be upset. You are sure no water can come through that crack, Mr. 
 Orme ? ' 
 
 ' It's all right,' he called to her. ' Well above the water ! ' 
 
 ' I'm very glad it was no worse,' she said. ' I do wish people 
 wouldn't be so careless ! ' 
 
 ' I think,' remarked Margot over her shoulder, 'that you might 
 have kept a more careful look-out, Mr. Orme, you had nothing 
 else to do ! ' 
 
 He was setting his teeth hard to repress a groan ; trivial as the 
 accident sounds, it caused him the most exquisite pain ; his thumb 
 was laid open to the bone, and was bleeding copiously ; he tried to 
 hold it in the water, but that only increased the burning throb 
 which turned him sick and faint. And in the midst of all this came 
 Miss Chevening's little gibe which sounded unfeeling enough just 
 then. 
 
 ' You are rather hard on me ! ' he managed to say in a low 
 voice.
 
 THE PARIAH 
 
 ' Am I ? ' she returned. ' I think people should not come out 
 on these expeditions unless they intend to make themselves either 
 useful or agreeable, I can't compliment you on having exhibited 
 ckher quality at present.' 
 
 ' I did not ask for compliments.' 
 
 ' You do not give yourself the trouble to deserve them," she 
 answered, feeling secure in the knowledge that their conversation 
 was inaudible to anyone else in the boat. 
 
 A pause, during which he was endeavouring to staunch the blood 
 with his handkerchief. 
 
 - ' I do not see,' observed Miss Chevening at last, ' why two per- 
 sons who have been on tolerably good terms for some time should 
 suddenly behave with absolute incivility to one another.' 
 
 ' Are we uncivil ? ' 
 
 ' Are we ! Are we not ? Have you made a solitary remark of 
 your own free will since we started an hour ago ? ' 
 
 ' I might reply,' he said grimly he was almost beside himself 
 with physical pain ' that your own efforts were not exactly con- 
 ciliatory.' 
 
 ' Perhaps not. Why should I conciliate ? Why do you need 
 conciliating ? ' 
 
 He was silent ; the present was no time for explaining, even if 
 he had felt equal to it just then ; as it was, this unexpected attack 
 of hers in the state he was in tried his nerves and temper almost 
 past endurance. 
 
 'You don't seem to have any answer to give me,' she continued 
 remorselessly. 
 
 ' Forgive me,' he said faintly ; ' I I am really not quite myself 
 just now don't think me ungracious if I ask you to spare me all 
 these questions.' 
 
 She laughed. ' I have brought that on myself,' she said. ' I 
 shall be careful how I invite such a hint again. Let me recommend 
 you to smoke. I shall not mind in the least, and you are evidently 
 in want of a sedative.' 
 
 He did not answer. The pain he was in was so great as 
 to make him almost unconscious, but through it all he felt the 
 injustice of her speech. Should he tell her ? What would she care ? 
 A pinched thumb was not an accident to make a fuss about ; he did 
 not want to make Mrs. Antrobus uncomfortable, or spoil the plea- 
 sure of the party ; he could bear the pain only, it must be in 
 silence. 
 
 It was not until they were in Boulter's lock that Miss Chevening 
 addressed him again. ' I don't pretend to be useful in a lock,' she 
 said. ' Surely you might exert yourself to that slight extent, Mr. 
 Orrne ! ' 
 
 ' I beg your pardon,' he said, stretching out his left hand for the 
 boathook. ' I thought stroke was doing all that was necessary,' , 
 
 ' Wouldn't you on the whole bo more successful in hooking that 
 chain if you used your right hand ? ' she suggested.
 
 THE TORTUEES OF INDECISION 803 
 
 He had been keeping it behind him as far as possible. ' No 
 doubt,' he replied wearily; 'but it's slightly disabled for the mo- 
 ment.' 
 
 Her eyes lost their mockery in an instant as she read the 
 suffering in his face. ' How did you do it ? ' she asked. ' Let me 
 gee it, please ; I may be of some use ! ' 
 
 ' You had better not ; it is not a pleasant sight. Never mind 
 about it now, Miss Chevening, I don't want Mrs. Antrobus to 
 know.' 
 
 ' Show it to me at once,' she said. ' Oh, how dreadful ! and 
 Low.it is bleeding 1 Why did you not tell me ? Let me bind it up 
 for you. Yes, you must ! ' 
 
 She took her own handkerchief and bound it round the wound 
 with slim fingers which were gentle and firm, though her face was 
 pale and her lips quivering a little. Orme felt too weak to pro- 
 test ; a moment before, and he had been thinking bitterly that she 
 was indeed incapable of any tenderness, yet her whole expression 
 now was softened by the sweetest compassion. When would he 
 succeed in forgetting the touch of her hands as they ministered to 
 him ? He tried to thank her, but she stopped him : ' I have only 
 done what I should do for anybody,' she said hurriedly. ' This is 
 a truce, you know. Directly you land you must go and see a sur- 
 geon. We won't frighten dear Mrs. Antrobus by telling her till it 
 is all over, will we ? But I wish you had let me know before.' 
 
 As soon as they were at Maidenhead again, Margot found 
 Hotham and made him take Orme in search of a surgeon, and 
 after one or two fruitless visits they found an old gentleman who 
 did all that was necessary. 
 
 Orme came back with the pain considerably relieved, and found 
 the rest of the party already at dinner, a vacant seat had been left 
 for huxi next to Margot' s, and he took it with a secret gratification. 
 
 By this time his hostess had heard about the accident, and he 
 was able to assure her that it was trifling enough. ' You don't 
 think you'll have lockjaw ? ' she said anxiously. ' I've known of 
 i<fc coming on when the thumb was injured. You are sure you feel 
 able to eat ? Lockjaw's such a dreadful thing to have ! And so you 
 hurt your hand in that last lock ? I detest locks ! I can't think 
 why they have them on the river at all dangerous hindrances I 
 gall them ! ' 
 
 She had no suspicion that her own erratic steering had contri- 
 buted to Nugent's accident, for which he was thankful. 
 
 His hand was bandaged in a manner which made it difficult to 
 use his knife, as Miss Chevening presently discovered. ' If you are 
 not too independent,' she said, with a touch of shyness, ' you had 
 better let me cut up your food for you.' 
 
 . He protested, laughing, that he would not trouble her, and per- 
 Revered. 
 
 ' Why are you so obstinate ? ' she said at last, after watching- his 
 unavailing efforts. ' You know you are perfectly helpless ! It is
 
 304 THE PARIAH 
 
 not a very overwhelming obligation, I should have thought,' she 
 added, a little wistfully. 
 
 He had to yield and allow her to render him this prosaic service, 
 which she performed with a serious dignity that lent it a mysterious 
 charm. 
 
 It was pleasant that dinner in the hotel room, with the French 
 windows opening on the lawn and its rose trees, r.rrl the river, 
 where the passing boats left a sparkling white trail as they glided by 
 in the dusk. How could he help being sensible of the dangerous 
 attractiveness of his lovely neighbour ? Was it wonderful that the 
 yearning returned to believe her all he had once imagined, the 
 insidious desperate hope that, if he had courage to appeal to her, 
 the shadow that stood between them might by some inexplicable 
 means be made to disappear ? 
 
 But he saw no real prospect of it ; she would not even give him 
 the opportunity of speaking now, supposing he were willing. This 
 was only a truce, as she seemed constantly to be reminding him ; 
 very soon they would be on their way to town, and he would see 
 her no more. She had far too much spirit not to accept the total 
 estrangement he had suggested. 
 
 Be it so, then it brought him back to his original position. 
 Nothing could be done ; the barrier between them was not to be 
 removed without ignoring her conduct to Allen. He could not 
 ignore it he should despise himself if he could. And unless he 
 could do this, the less he saw of her in future the better for his own 
 honour and happiness. 
 
 So when they adjourned to the lawn for coffee, he devoted him- 
 self to Mrs. Antrobus with a thankful sense that his term of 
 probation was nearly at an end. 
 
 The young lady in the dust-cloak, which nothing had induced 
 her to remove throughout the day, had betrayed one constant 
 anxiety, the fear that she would not return to town in time for a 
 certain dance, and Mrs. Antrobus had accordingly arranged to go 
 back by an earlier train for her sake. 
 
 And now the waiter appeared with the announcement that the 
 flies were at the door and, if they wished to catch the earlier train, 
 they must go at once. There was some amount of bustle and 
 confusion before they could get off, and Orme found himself, without 
 any contrivance on his own part, in the same open carriage as 
 Margot, with Guy and Ida as the other occupants. 
 
 As they approached the station, a train passed along the high 
 embankment in sharp relief against the green sky. The driver 
 whipped his horse into a gallop. ' We shall miss it ! ' cried Guy. 
 ' Our young friend in the dust-cloak will lose her dance, which will 
 be a pity, for I believe she had dressed for it before she came out ! ' 
 
 ' And that was why she kept the cloak on to hide her ball- 
 dress 1 ' said Ida. ' She talked of nothing but dancing the whole 
 day. It was all " Had we been to such a ball ? Were we going tc 
 Mrs. So-and-So's dance ? " So silly as if it mattered I '
 
 THE TORTURES OP INDECISION 305 
 
 The train had stopped ; as the fly rolled up to the end of the 
 feteps, they heard the whistle ; they reached the platform to find 
 it empty. 
 
 ' They've gone on without us ! ' said Guy, without exhibiting 
 any inconsolable depression. ' I daresay they thought we had got 
 iu somewhere. Well, we can't help it, can we ? 
 
 ' Since for that early train we're late, 
 We will not make our woes the text 
 Of sermons to the Times but wait 
 
 On for the next ! ' 
 
 he quoted, adapting Calverley to his own purposes. 
 
 Margot had said nothing ; she was already walking slowly 
 towards the end of the platform. Ida, declaring that she was tired, 
 had sat down, and Guy had followed her example. Orme stood for 
 a moment irresolute he could hardly allow Miss Chevening to 
 promenade the platform alone ; he would at least leave it to her to 
 decline his escort if she chose, as she probably would choose. 
 
 She had turned and was coining towards him, looking subdued 
 and sad, and a little weary, and he waited for her with a heart that 
 began to beat faster. It might be that the opportunity he had half 
 longed for, half dreaded, had come at last. If only he could feel 
 Bure what he would say or leave unsaid ! 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 MISS CHEVENIXG'S CANDOUR. 
 
 L'envift <le faire voir nos defauts du cote que nous voulons bien les montrer 
 fait une grande partie de uotre sincerite. La Rochefoucauld. 
 
 ' Is your hand still painful ? ' was Miss Chevening' s first question, 
 put after a moment of embarrassed silence and with a touch of 
 very unusual timidity. 
 
 ' A little,' he replied ; ' nothing worth speaking of it will be all 
 right in a day or two.' 
 
 ' It looked such a dreadful wound,' she said, closing her eyes 
 tight, like a child, at the recollection. ' You must have thought I 
 was very unfeeling in the boat,' she went on ; ' but I had no idea 
 that you were hurt at all until we were in that lock.' 
 
 ' I quite understood,' he said heartily. ' Pray don't say any- 
 thing more about it.' 
 
 She stood at the edge of the platform looking down on the rails 
 and ballast for some time, and then she suddenly raised her eyes 
 and turned to him : ' I wish,' she said impetuously, ' I wish you 
 would tell me what I have done that displeases you.' 
 
 It was precisely the question he had been determined to avoid, 
 
 x
 
 306 THE PARIAH 
 
 and yet, now that it had coine, the temptation to appeal to her was 
 very strong. He put it by for the time however ' How have I 
 shown that I was displeased ? ' he said. 
 
 ' How ? By your behaviour all through the day you have not 
 once spoken to me except when you could not possibly help your- 
 self. If we had never met before, instead of being, as I thought 
 only a little time ago, quite old friends, you could not have been 
 more stiff and formal. It is useless to deny it, and, if you please, 
 I am rather curious to know what it all means.' 
 
 She was trying to speak lightly and unconcernedly, but there 
 was a real anxiety in her eyes a wistful desire to know whether 
 something she seemed to fear was true. Orme was moved in spite 
 of himself; there was something frank and natural in this direct 
 challenge which seemed inspired by a consciousness of innocence. 
 If. after all, he had been too hasty to judge her; if but he dared 
 not indulge such a supposition she could not be innocent. 
 
 ' I cannot tell you,' he said, ' without going into matters that 
 you have forbidden me to speak about.' 
 
 ' Ah, then I can guess it is something to do with Allen ! There, 
 I knew I was right it is always Allen. I did ask you not to men 
 tion his name to rne again, I remember ; never mind, I give you 
 leave to mention it now as much as you please so long as you tell 
 me what you have heard that seems to have given you such a bad 
 opinion of me.' 
 
 ' I will tell you, then,' he said bluntly. ' I have heard that it 
 was you who obliged him to leave home, against his will. Do you 
 deny it ? ' 
 
 ' I was sure that Millicent had told you,' she said. ' No, why 
 sJiould I deny it ? It is true.' 
 
 It was over. She had admitted it. His last feeble spark of 
 hope had died. ' And you made me believe he had gone out of his 
 own free will ; that it was his own plan which you had helped him 
 to carry out ! ' 
 
 Margot coloured. ' You assumed that it was so, and I did not 
 choose to undeceive you. Was that very wicked of me ? ' 
 
 ' You had the right to refuse me your confidence if you thought 
 fit. No the wickedness (you used the word first) was not towards 
 me.' 
 
 ' You do think I acted wickedly then ? ' she said. ' May I ask 
 where you consider my wickedness lay ? ' 
 
 ' "Where ? ' he cried, all his indignation roused afresh by her in-, 
 sensibility. ' Is it possible you need me to point it out to you ? 
 Ask yourself what harm that poor felk>w had done to you, that you 
 could not be content until he was sent out of your sight ? Oh, I 
 know all you would say. He irritated your nerves, offended your 
 fastidiousness, made you ashamed of him in a hundred ways. 
 Granted all that, was it any reason why you should use all your 
 influence to have him sent away from his home, where he was 
 honestly trying to improve, where his only chance of improvement
 
 MISS CHEVENING'S CANDOUR 807 
 
 was ? You knew, because you were warned, that the life you meant 
 him to lead was one that he had no liking for, and as little fitness. 
 You might have had some pity on him, and declined to condemn 
 him, untrained, ill-regulated, friendless as he was, to exile ; but 
 you would not listen ; you carried your point, and you cannot even 
 see at what a cost to another you have purchased your own com- 
 Ibrt ! I am not good at hiding my thoughts. Knowing all this, 
 I can't behave as if as if it made no difference. It does make a 
 difference all the difference in the world, as far as I am concerned. 
 Of course, I know very well that you can dispense easily enough 
 with my friendship I wish it was as easy for me to withdraw as 
 I must.' 
 
 ' You are certainly outspoken,' she said haughtily ; ' even 
 Millicent was not more candid. It seems that I must resign my- 
 self to lose your friendship, too, then ? I don't pretend not to feel 
 a little sorry ; I even think you are rather hard on me.' She 
 turned away her head for a moment. 'If you knew more you 
 might make some allowances for me, you might come to believe 
 that I am not such a monster of hard-heartedness as you imagine ; 
 but I don't know very likely I am as wicked as you say ; it is not 
 worth discussing my precise shade of iniquity ! ' She paused, and 
 then resumed more gently: 'It is silly of me to care,' she said; 
 ' but after all, I do care. I don't choose that you should go away 
 with a worse impression than I deserve. I have a right to be 
 heard in my own defence. I am going to tell you what nobody 
 knows outside my own family ; perhaps it is wrong, undignified, to 
 speak at all after what you have said but you will not misunder- 
 stand my motives. I am not begging for your friendship, I only 
 wish you to know my side of the story. 
 
 ' You don't know all I had to bear. You speak of Allen as 
 harmless, as if roughness and want of manners were his worst 
 faults. If that had been all but but there are things I can't tell 
 you. One thing I must. He was bad, really bad. Even at 
 Trouville I saw that. He was dishonest. Ah, you don't believe 
 it ; you think it is all prejudice, and you have made lip yoxir mind 
 that he was ill-used a poor, harmless, well-meaning creature 1 
 What will you say when I tell you that he was caught in the very 
 act of stealing ? He was he stole a locket ; a valuable locket 
 belonging to me. It was his father not I who determined that 
 the only course to take after that was to send him abroad. And 
 then Allen begged to have his conduct passed over ; to be allowed 
 to live at home just as before, and, as I was the person he had 
 had robbed, they left it to me to say whether he should be sent 
 away or not. Put yourself in my position for a moment. I dis- 
 liked him (I have never disguised that we all disliked him). 
 I was afraid of him. I I had reasons. After the way he had 
 behaved, it was simply impossible to live on in the same house 
 together. And though of course you may not choose to believe 
 me I did honestly think that India was the best place for him ; 
 
 zi
 
 308 THfi fARIAS 
 
 that be would like his new life when he was once there ; be kept 
 from falling again into bad habits. My step-father himself took 
 that view. "What other answer could I give ? If I could have 
 foreseen but how could I ? So I said what you know, and if I 
 had to go through it all over again I should do exactly the same. 
 I can't help it if it horrifies you I know I should.' 
 
 To estimate the effect of her words upon Orme, it must be re- 
 membered how strong her personal fascination had been over him 
 from the first ; how impossible it had been to him, even when he 
 most condemned what she had done, to feel harshly towards 
 her. 
 
 He had spoken sternly, but it was the crime, not the criminal, 
 that excited his indignation, and some of his sternness was due 
 perhaps to a secret consciousness that he was only too much dis- 
 posed to leniency. 
 
 And now he had heard her account and he coiild hold out 
 against her no longer. He never doubted that she was speaking 
 the truth ; her manner was too entirely convincing to admit of 
 that, and her story gave him the excuse he had longed for and 
 despaired of for acquitting her of all that had seemed most cold- 
 blooded and unscrupulous. 
 
 Thank God, she was less to blame than he could ever have 
 hoped to find her ! If the part she had played was not the most 
 merciful, at least it had been forced upon her ; she had not acted 
 without provocation how great provocation and for how long, who 
 could say ? 
 
 Faulty as she might be, he knew the worst : it gave him no 
 right to judge her, it made it no shame to love her still. Oh, the 
 inexpressible relief of knowing that ! "What should he say to her ? 
 how retract the accusation he had presumed, in his self-righteous 
 folly, to bring against her ? 
 
 He was saved from the necessity of speaking immediately by 
 the deafening rush and roar of an express through the station. 
 When the long line of rocking carriages, with the comfortable pro- 
 files at the lighted windows, had passed, leaving a whirlwind of 
 cold air in its wake, Margot came forward from the palings to 
 which she had retreated. ' I am waiting for you to say something,' 
 she said. ' I want to know what you think of all this now I have 
 told you ? ' 
 
 ' "What am I to say to you ? ' he said. ' If I had known all this 
 I would have cut my tongue out sooner than say what I did 1 
 "Why did you not tell Millicent what you have just told me ? ' 
 
 ' "Why ? Because I did not choose. Do you think it is so easy 
 and pleasant to expose one's family secrets ? Besides, Millicent 
 would not have listened she would not have believed me, very 
 likely. Are you quite sure that you believe me yourself ? ' 
 
 ' You can't forgive me ! ' he cried. ' I don't wonder. But, in- 
 deed, I had no idea before that that poor fellow had any actual 
 harm in him it never entered my head that he was a scoundrel
 
 MISS CHEVENING'S CANDOUR 809 
 
 that any temptation could have made him a thief 1 I was mistaken 
 in him, it seems. If that had been my worst mistake ' 
 
 ' And you don't think I was wrong in having him sent away ? ' 
 
 ' Wrong ? I don't know : I have no right to judge. Perhaps, 
 if bad as he was you could have given him one more chance 
 But you say there are circumstances you can't tell me. I suppose 
 there was no other course to take. And I ought to have known 
 that you would not act lightly, or without compunction or pity for 
 him. I ought to have felt that. Will you ever forgive me, Miss 
 Chevening, for saying such things as I did to you ? Are we still 
 friends ? ' 
 
 She had recovered her ascendency over him, but the victory 
 seemed to have aroused the sense of injury she could not bring 
 herself to overlook his offence. Having humbled herself to make 
 a particular statement to avoid forfeiting his regard, and, having 
 succeeded, she could not yet forgive him for forcing such an ex- 
 planation from her. 
 
 ' Then you really do propose to honour me with your friendship 
 after all 1 ' she exclaimed. ' Had you not better reflect a little 
 before you commit yourself again ? ' 
 
 ' Now you are cruel 1 ' he said in a low voice. 
 
 ' No, I am not. Eemember how solemnly you renounced any 
 further acquaintance with me a few minutes ago. You oughtn't 
 to be surprised if I feel a little doubt about our future relations. 
 Naturally, I should like to be spared any repetition of to-day's 
 uncertainty I ' 
 
 ' Our future relations must depend on you not me,' he said. 
 
 1 Must they ? Then I will try not to decide hastily. I will 
 think over it ; there will be plenty of time to do that before we 
 meet again, and then I shall probably know better than I do now 
 what I really feel about it. Don't let us say any more about it 
 just now, and I think we had better go back to my sister and Mr. 
 Hotham our train must be almost due by this time.' 
 
 He obeyed gloomily enough. Clearly there was nothing to be 
 gained by pressing her for an answer while she was in her present 
 mood. He had offended her, and if she chose to treat him coldly 
 in the future, or even drop him altogether, it would only be what 
 he deserved. And, as he thought of this, he felt a bitterness rising 
 in his heart against the absent and missing Allen, in whose un- 
 worthy cause he had incurred the crushing burden of his lady's 
 displeasure. 
 
 On returning to the sheltered part of the station, where by this 
 time a considerable crowd had collected, they found Guy Hotham 
 and Ida still on the seat where they had been left. Ida rose and 
 came to meet her sister ; drawing her apart, ' Margot,' she said 
 hurriedly, her face looking white and frightened under the gaslight, 
 ' do you know who is here on the platform ? ' 
 
 A certain apprehension was visible in the elder sister's face, 
 
 ' Not pot Allen ? ' she exclaimed under her breath.
 
 810 THE PAEIAH 
 
 ' No, no Mr. Mclladew.' 
 
 Margot's expression relaxed. ' Is that all, dear ? ' she said^ 
 with a laugh. ' AVhat if he is '? ' 
 
 ' Nothing,' said Ida nervously. ' Only I thought I would tell 
 you in case . . . Margot, you won't recognise him, will you ? ' 
 
 'I have no particular wish to speak to Mr. Mclladew, dear; 
 why are you so anxious that I should cut him dead ? ' 
 
 ' Because I am,' said Ida impatiently. ' You will do as I ask 
 you, Margot, won't you ? ' 
 
 1 Certainly, dear. I should have done so in any case, for that 
 matter. I don't suppose he is at ah 1 anxious for a recognition.' 
 
 The train came up just then, and the four had just secured an 
 empty compartment when a fifth person entered. It was Melladew, 
 somewhat altered from the slim and elegant tutor of two years ago ; 
 he had grown stouter and flabbier, he was less carefully dressed, he 
 had evidently not been to Maidenhead for boating purposes. He 
 took the middle seat between Orrne and Ida, opposite to Margot. 
 Ida had shrunk back, with a deep flush, and turned her face to the 
 window, which seemed to disconcert him. 
 
 Poor Melladew bore it as long as he could. He had apparently 
 counted upon being recognised, and Margot 's eyes showed no con- 
 sciousness of having seen him before ; he seemed half inclined to 
 recall himself to her recollection, but his courage failed him, as 
 well it might. Finally, after growing more and more ill at ease, 
 he left the carriage at the next station with a pathetic little sigh as 
 he let down the glass. 
 
 ' That fellow looked as if he fancied he knew you, Miss Cheven- 
 ing,' said Guy, after he had gone. ' He opened his mouth to speak 
 once or twice, and then thought better of it.' 
 
 ' He found out his mistake in time, I suppose,' said Margot in- 
 differently. ' I hate having to tell people I don't know them, don't 
 you ? ' And this led Guy to recount his own experiences of a 
 similar kind, which had the desired effect of diverting the conver- 
 sation from its original subject. 
 
 But the conversation soon flagged and became spasmodic ; Ida 
 took no part in it, and sat gazing abstractedly out into the darkness, 
 while Guy was watching her with a cloud on his face ; Margot lay 
 back with her eyes closed, and Orme was silently reproaching him- 
 self for his own precipitate folly in speaking as he had done. How 
 could he have taken up the cause of such a worthless being as Allen 
 against a girl like this one opposite a girl who, as his instinct 
 should have told him, was sweet and noble and good ? It was 
 natural that she should shrink from her step-brother, natural that 
 she should resent having to associate with him. Ought she to have 
 borne with him, to have pleaded for him ? No doubt a creature 
 who was all angelic meekness would have done so Margot 
 Chevening was not meek : she was no angel, and he loved her the 
 better for it. Allen had forfeited all his sympathy : he saw him 
 DOW ae an irreclaiuiably vicious young scamp, for whom exile was
 
 MISS CHEVENING'S CANDOUR 811 
 
 probably a better fate than he deserved. And what had Margol 
 done but declined to intervene ? Orrue grew hot as he thought of 
 all his heroics. How could she pardon the things he had said to 
 her ? How could he pardon himself such sentimental quixotry ? 
 
 And yet, in truth, he need not have been ashamed of his indig- 
 nation it was the effect of a generous sympathy with the unfortu- 
 nate and oppressed ; he had spoken under pressure, sacrificing his 
 love to his sense of honour and justice ; it was not his fault that he 
 had not been more fully informed. Some would have held that, 
 even on the facts, she had not cleared herself entirely from the 
 charges that had been brought against her. 
 
 But with Orme the reaction was too complete ; he loved her too 
 well to have any reservations or self-justifications now. He was 
 only too thankful to have it demonstrated to him that his love need 
 not be renounced, that his divinity was not to be dethroned. And 
 yet, as he realised bitterly, he had lost her again in the very act of 
 regaining her ! Ah, if only he had never listened to Millicent if 
 only he had had more confidence : but it was too late now for 
 regrets of this sort, he must wait the course of events. 
 
 And at last it seemed an interminable journey to more than 
 one of the party they were at Paddington, standing together under 
 the bluish glare of the electric lights. While a hansom was being 
 called for the two sisters, Orme found an opportunity to make one 
 last appeal to Margot. ' I don't ask you to forgive me,' he said 
 ' at least, not now, but think as kindly of me as you can. You 
 don't know how severe a punishment it would be to me to feel I 
 had lost your friendship past all recovery ! ' 
 
 Such humility was almost a provocation to trample upon it. 
 ' Shall I tell you how you may make your punishment easier ? ' 
 she asked. 
 
 ' If you will ! ' he said, more hopefully. 
 
 ' It is quite simple : you have only to forget our last conversa- 
 tion then my friendship will be as undesirable as you seem to 
 have been considering it all day. Good-night, Mr. Orme.' 
 
 She gave him her hand without looking at him, and he stood 
 by helplessly while Guy Hotham put her into the hansom. Orme 
 had a glimpse of her pale, proud profile as the cab passed him ; she 
 did not appear to notice his bow she was mortally offended ; he 
 gazed after the hansom with a sigh. Just then his feeling towards 
 Millicent was hardly brotherly. 
 
 ' What have you done to poor Mr. Hotham, Ida ? ' asked 
 Margot, as they drove home' he seemed quite depressed ; you 
 haven't been quarrelling, have you ? ' 
 
 ' No,' said Ida ; ' at least, I don't know how it was. He was 
 very pleasant while we were at Taplow until that hateful Mr. 
 Melladew came up and sat down quite close by us, and somehow it 
 it worried me so, Margot, and I couldn't go on talking, and I'm 
 afraid Guy Mr. Hotham noticed it, for he changed directly.' 
 
 ' But why should seeing Mr. Melladew worry you ? You made
 
 812 THE PARIAH 
 
 a perfect goose of yourself when he followed us into the carriage, 
 do you know ? ' 
 
 ' Did I ? Do you think Mr. Hotham saw it ? I couldn't help 
 it, Margot. Seeing him again like that made me remember things. 
 And I want to forget them I thought I had forgotten ! ' 
 
 ' It is rather foolish, don't you think, to feel so strongly about 
 poor Camilla, after all these years ? I know she treated you very 
 badly in going away without a word as she did, but I don't see that 
 Mr. Melladew was so much to blame,' said Margot, innocently 
 enough. ' Really, when I saw him sitting there, with that tail- 
 between-the-legs expression, begging to be noticed, I was half- 
 inclined to speak to him perhaps it was better not.' 
 
 1 Much better ! ' declared Ida. ' I'm so glad you didn't. If 
 you had, I would not have stayed in the carriage. Wasn't he look- 
 ing fat and horrid ? ' she added vindictively. ' I wish I had not 
 seen him he quite spoilt my day ! ' 
 
 ' Something always does happen sooner or later to spoil a day 
 when you come out expressly for pleasure,' said Margot wearily ; 
 ' however, this one is over, thank goodness ! ' 
 
 Orme and Hotham were walking back to their rooms through 
 the hot streets now shuttered and silent. 
 
 Neither Guy nor Nugent was inclined for conversation. ' We 
 don't seem particularly lively to-night,' observed the younger man 
 at length. 
 
 ' What is it you want to do ? ' inquired Orme ' dance home ? ' 
 
 ' I feel about as much like dancing as you do just now, I can 
 tell you,' remarked Guy gloomily. ' I've had a beastly day.' 
 
 ' If it's any comfort to you to know it,' said Orme, with a short 
 laugh, ' so have I. But I should have thought you had no reason 
 to complain, at all events.' 
 
 ' That's all you know 1 Not that I had, till just at the end. 
 We were getting on together like like bricks, and then, all 
 at once, something I said didn't please her. I'm sure I don't 
 know why, I don't remember saying anything she could take 
 offence at but she did ; she turned perfectly silent, would hardly 
 speak to me, let me see as plainly as possible that I was boring her 
 so at last I gave it up. It's hard lines, Orme, I can tell you,' 
 continued Guy, with a suspicious break in his voice, 'when 
 you care for a girl as I do for Ida, to feel you you only bore 
 her ! ' 
 
 Orme laughed it is wonderful how wretched one can be and 
 yet laugh. ' How can you possibly tell if she was bored ? She 
 probably had a headache or something ; you don't mean to say 
 you've been constructing a tragedy out of that ! My dear Guy, 
 you must be desperately bent on being miserable ! ' 
 
 ' Then you don't think ? But I don't know, I'm not clever, 
 Orme you are, you know! ' 
 
 ' Am I ? ' said Orme bitterly. ' I have been very clever to-day 
 I've done for myself with Miss Chevening I '
 
 MISS CHEVENING'S CANDOUR 813 
 
 ' I'm sorry, old chap,' said Hotham, with sufficient sympathy. 
 * Perhaps if if you try your luck again later don't you think ? ' 
 
 ' It wasn't that never mind what it was but I shall never 
 have the chance of trying my luck at all now.' 
 
 ' Well, you know,' said Guy, with a mistaken attempt at conso- 
 lation, ' between ourselves, she's a deuced pretty girl and all that 
 but I never took to her myself ; I'm not sure you're not well out of 
 it on the ' 
 
 Orme threw off his friend's arm. ' You mean well, I dare say,' 
 he said grimly ; ' but if you have any more comfort of that peculiar 
 kind to offer me, I shall walk home on the other side of the street. 
 If you must talk, talk of something you understand, for Heaven's 
 sake ! ' 
 
 Guy whistled and walked on in silence, rather offended, though 
 he ended by making allowances for his friend's state of mind. 
 ' And, by gad ! ' he reflected, ' he may say what he likes but I'm 
 not so far wrong 1 J shouldn't like to marry that girl, I know ; 
 now Ida ' 
 
 And here he became reabsorbed in an attempt to convince him- 
 self that his self-distrust was after all without sufficient foundation. 
 ' She wasn't bored all the time, any way ! ' he told himself, with 
 reviving spirits. 
 
 CHAPTER VL 
 
 IN A BALCONY. 
 On pardonne tant que 1'on aime. La Rochefoucauld. 
 
 THE Sunday which followed seemed to Orme the most miserable 
 day he had ever spent in his life. He did not, as he had done on 
 one or two occasions of late, accompany Guy to the fashionable 
 church on the other side of the Park which Mrs. Chadwick and her 
 daughters attended, nor did he appear at the ' Parade ' afterwards. 
 It was a fine hot June Sunday, the parks and main thoroughfares 
 were crowded, but Orme carefully kept away from any places where 
 there was any prospect of seeing Miss Chevening he had good 
 reason for his avoidance now, whatever had been the case before. 
 Instead, he wandered, without caring where, down airless back 
 streets where tired women sat listlessly behind their dusty window- 
 panes, through decorous squares, and along roads alive with Sunday 
 traffic, Salvationists, street preachers, Socialists, pleasure-seekers 
 all of whom he found himself regarding with a sick hatred. And 
 ever at the bottom of his thoiights was the maddening recollection 
 of yesterday; his speech that priggish, self-righteous speech 
 never to be recalled what red-hot twinges of impatient misery ha 
 felt at the memory of it 1 And Margot, as she defended herself,
 
 814 THE PAKIAH 
 
 would he never forget the strange loveliness of her pale indignanl 
 face as he had seen it there against the green and saffron sky ? 
 What an incredible fool he had been ! Would it be of any use to 
 write to her to put before her all that the withdrawal of her 
 friendship would mean to him ? His worldly wisdom saved him 
 from yielding to such an impulse as that. He must wait, that was 
 all, until he met her again and knew whether her resentment was 
 really incapable of being appeased. But it was this forced inaction, 
 this sensation of utter powerlessness to do anything to help his own 
 cause that was so tormenting. And so all that brilliant Sunday 
 his mind revolved in the same dreary round, like a caged squirrel. 
 Fortunately for him, this extreme dejection could not endure 
 beyond that one day ; with the morning came the distraction of his 
 ordinary professional cares, to which even Miss Chevening and her 
 just displeasure had temporarily to give place. And in a shorter 
 time than he could have anticipated he had brought himself to a 
 philosophical though very far from cheerful resignation. If he 
 could not hope for her love and that, he was now convinced, had 
 never been anything but the wildest dream did it matter so much 
 that he must go without her friendship ? What was her friendship 
 for him but a mockery, if she could never give him more ? He had 
 only wrecked his chances of happiness a little prematurely it must 
 have come at some time. 
 
 All of which philosophy was of course instantly vanquished by 
 a note which came to him from Mrs. Antrobus before many days 
 had gone by. It was merely an invitation to an impromptu dinner 
 ' a very small party,' apologies for short notice, and so forth. 
 Should he go ? There was more than a chance that that small 
 party would turn out to include Miss Chevening. If so, she would 
 assuredly find the means of settling all his doubts one way or the 
 other. But if she proved implacable -what a protracted ordeal 
 that dinner would be, to be close to her and meet only subdued 
 hostility in her eyes was it wise to submit himself to that ? Wise 
 or unwise, he would risk it perhaps she would not be there after 
 all : he discovered that Guy had received no invitation, which was 
 some ground for inferring that Ida Chevening, at lea^L, was not 10 
 be one of his aunt's guests on that particular occasion. It was 
 hardly likely that the elder sister had been asked alone no, he 
 might go in perfect security that lie would not be called upon to 
 endure the ordeal of meeting her that evening. 
 
 Having arrived at these conclusions, it was strange, perhaps, 
 that his heart should beat so much more quickly than usual, and 
 that he should have that curious sensation that was neither hope 
 nor apprehension, but something compounded of both, as he was 
 taken up in the lift to the floor in Albert Hall Mansions on which 
 was Mrs. Antrobus' s flat. 
 
 He was a little before his time, which happened to be an earlier 
 hour than usual, and he found his hostess alone when he entered 
 the drawing-room. ' That's right,' she said approvingly ; ' I like
 
 IN A BALCONY 31-5 
 
 tny young men to be punctual. I hope you understand I have 
 scarcely anyone to meet you ? So difficult to get people at short 
 notice just now ! I've had two disappointments as it is.' (Orme 
 was wondering whether Margot was one of them, and whether he 
 was more glad or sorry.) ' JSiow I'll tell you who are coming. 
 There's a Mrs. Maberly, she's a widow, and rather an invalid 
 and likes it. I met her abroad, she's a great traveller, I believe, 
 never settles anywhere. Then there's her brother, a Mr. Langrish, 
 he has some appointment in Japan Yokohama, I think it is but 
 he's home on leave just now. According to his sister, he's every- 
 thing that's delightful, though I confess I've not discovered it for 
 myself as yet. Oh, and there's one other Miss Chevening. I 
 found out quite by accident that she was going to be all alone this 
 evening, so I wrote off and secured her. Mr. Langrish is by way of 
 being a great admirer of pretty faces,' said the old lady, as if this 
 were a somewhat eccentric and unusual taste, ' and I thought I'd 
 show him quite the loveliest person of my acquaintance. Don't 
 you agree with me ? but I needn't ask you that. By the way, I 
 quite thought you were all in the train somewhere that Saturday 
 till we got to Paddington and I couldn't see you anywhere. I'd 
 promised that girl solemnly she should be back in time for her 
 party, and I was so flurried I couldn't think about anything else. 
 But of course I didn't worry myself I knew those two young 
 ladies would be all right under your care, and I daresay,' she added, 
 with a twinkle in her eye, ' that neither of you young men objected 
 to waiting a little.. But mind, I can't allow you to monopolise 
 pretty Miss Margot to-night- do. you hear ? ' 
 
 Orme smiled ruefully enough. He was thinking that there was 
 small danger of that. But at least he would see her again. At any 
 moment she might enter. He could picture exactly how she would 
 come in with her small, stately head held well up, and her clear 
 eyes shining and presently she would see him, and what would 
 she do then ? There his second-sight was at fault, and indeed it 
 seems sometimes as if Fate had the same dislike as a stammerer to 
 being anticipated even in the most obvious conclusion, and will go 
 out of her way to avoid accepting a hint. At all events that mental 
 picture of Orme's, which it seemed so absolutely safe to draw, was 
 not realised that evening. The electric bell sounded outside, and 
 sent an absolutely superfluous thrill through him, for it proved 
 to be only Mrs. Maberly and her brother who were announced. 
 She was tall and drooping, with the mannered sweetness and 
 plaintive languor of a person who wishes it understood that it is 
 nothing but principle which keeps her from expiring. ' How do 
 you do, dear Mrs. Antrobus ? ' she said mournfully. ' I quite de 
 spaired of coming to you such a fatiguing morning; I've been 
 positively fit for nothing ever since I've been helping a friend to 
 choose an umbrella ! ' 
 
 ' My sister,' explained Mr. Langrish, ' attacks these problems in 
 * conscientious spirit.'
 
 316 THE PARIAH 
 
 ' Oh, she begged me to go with her, poor thing ! ' said Mrs. 
 Maberly ; ' not that I was of much use for they opened such hosts 
 of them that I got quite confused at last.' Mr. Langrish was some 
 years older than his sister, and looked about forty-five ; like her, he 
 had good features, but his faded eyes and the sardonic lines about 
 his mouth gave Orme a disagreeable impression. 
 
 They stood there for some little time, exchanging the makeshift 
 conversation that precedes the announcement of dinner, and grad- 
 ually Orme began to have an ominous conviction that Margot was 
 not coming. It was long past the hour, but she failed to make that 
 entrance he had pictured, and at last the hostess lost patience. ' I 
 was expecting somebody else,' she said, as she rang the bell, ' but 
 it's really no use waiting any longer she won't come now ! Some- 
 thing must have prevented her, or she forgot, or made a mistake in 
 the day it's really very naughty of her.' 
 
 Mr. Langrish seemed indifferent on the subject so long as dinner 
 was not to be delayed, but Orme took Mrs. Maberly in with a heavy 
 heart. She would not come. Mrs. Antrobus's acceptance of the 
 fact seemed to have made it final, and he thought he knew why 
 Miss Chevening preferred to break her engagement she had found 
 out or suspected that he was to be there ! So he crumbled the 
 bread of affliction as he sat there, opposite the empty chair where 
 she should have been, and soup, fish, and wine had all the same 
 tastelessness. 
 
 And then suddenly the bell rang at last ; he tried to keep down the 
 rising hope it was the servant with the note of apology and yet 
 no, it was no manservant's voice he heard in the anteroom. ' Why, 
 there she is after all ! ' cried Mrs. Antrobus, and rose to upbraid and 
 bring in the delinquent. And then Margot's clear voice could be 
 heard she had mistaken the hour, that was the very commonplace 
 explanation of what his egotism had construed as fatal. Angry or 
 indifferent what mattered now she had come ? And presently Miss 
 Chevening entered, looking meeker under the sense of wrongdoing, 
 but with her usual air of pretty composure. 'And you and Mr. 
 Orme already know one another,' Mrs. Antrobus had added, after 
 mentioning the names of the other guests. ' We have met before,' 
 she had replied, with a smile which told him nothing, though, as 
 he might have known, she was not likely to betray her feelings in 
 any conspicuous manner just then. 
 
 She seemed to have brought new life and animation into the 
 party, which had decidedly been in need of some stimulus. Mr. 
 Langrish's pale eyes lighted up, and he exerted himself as her 
 neighbour to be worthy of his unexpected good luck. He could be 
 amusing in his cool, cynical way when he thought it worth the 
 trouble, as he evidently did now, and Miss Chevening was willing 
 to be pleased. 
 
 Orme observed her furtively as she sat opposite ; she was 
 wearing black that evening, sprue soft gauzy material with half 
 sleeves of delicate lace ; there was a spray of scarlet flowers at her
 
 fij A UAtdotiY 917 
 
 breast, a small diamond star scintillated in her hair, as she turned 
 her head to listen to Langrish's somewhat acrid pleasantries. 
 
 Once more Orme could look upon her and admire and love her 
 with a love that had no tormenting misgivings but it was too late ; 
 he had wronged her past all hope of forgiveness, and it was a 
 greater distance that separated them now than that daintily ar- 
 ranged table. 
 
 With so small a party the conversation was necessarily more or 
 less general, and she could hardly have avoided speaking to him 
 from time to time without making it obvious. And as she clearly 
 had no intention of this, he had to bear his part to reply to the 
 careless remarks she made to him, and address her on occasions, 
 without betraying to anyone but her that he was not misled by the 
 unreality of it all. 
 
 For of course he knew that she had not forgotten, even if it 
 suited her to appear to do so for the present ; she would show him 
 how far she was from forgetting when her opportunity came, unless 
 she intended to adopt this indifferent treatment of him always in 
 the future. 
 
 That he would not endure it would be too maddening; it 
 should be either all or nothing he would tell her so and leave it to 
 her to decide. 
 
 All this was passing in his mind while he was listening to Mrs, 
 Maberly, who was confiding to him her difficulties in engaging 
 suitable companions. ' I must have a cheerful person about me,' 
 she was saying mournfully ; ' I am so fond of cheerfulness, and that 
 is such a rare thing in these days. It's quite delightful to me to 
 meet anyone fresh and bright like your opposite neighbour, for 
 instance,' she went on, lowering her voice ' and such a lovely 
 face, too ! I don't suppose she has ever known what care and 
 suffering are, and it's so good for one to come across young people 
 like that now and then. I'm so glad for my brother to have seen 
 her I assure you I can scarcely believe he's the same person ! 
 But I was telling you about companions : you wouldn't believe 
 what trouble I've had with them ! I always make a point of 
 engaging some one in in one's own position in life, you know, and 
 treating her as a personal friend ; but they are so tiresome, always 
 fancying themselves slighted or something ridiculous of the sort, 
 and in travelling they're worse than useless ; the last one I had 
 expected me to take the tickets, and keep the seats, and do every- 
 thing. And when we were at Homburg, if I met any friends I 
 knew and she was with me, she never thought of walking on, she 
 would hang about, and then sulk because I didn't introduce 
 her I I suppose you don't happen to know any nice cheerful girl 
 who is willing to go out as a companion ? My present companion 
 mopes all day long, and I really can not bear it, my nerves are not 
 strong enough as I said before, cheerfulness is absolutely a ne- 
 cessity to me ! ' 
 
 Orme had to confess his inability to recommend any candidate
 
 318 THE PARIAH 
 
 for what he privately thought might prove a somewhat exacting 
 post, and so Mrs. Maberly meandered on in a description of her 
 Continental wanderings, from which :t appeared that she had been 
 at the point of death at every health resort in Europe, and had been 
 carried insensible through all the finest scenery. 
 
 He had only to listen and commiserate at the proper moments, 
 while at the same time not one of Margot's words or gestures 
 escaped him, as she talked to Langrish and Mrs. Antrobus, with a 
 gaiety that seemed spontaneous enough and was certainly charming. 
 
 The ladies rose, and Orme and Langrish were left to improve 
 their acquaintance. 
 
 ' As we've got leave to smoke,' said Langrish, ' I'm going to take 
 Mrs. Antrobus at her word, and have a cigarette. Worst of women's 
 dinners is, they will not keep cigars though perhaps that's just as 
 well. If they gave you one it would be sure to be the sort of brand 
 you get for knocking down a cocoa-nut ! It's something to be al- 
 lowed to smoke at all. You do smoke ? Try one of these. You 
 won't be tempted, eh ? Just as you please J shall.' 
 
 Orme declined, though he was very far from despising that solace 
 at other times ; a cigarette is not a very crushing obligation, and yet 
 he did not wish to be indebted, even to this trifling extent, to this 
 man. Besides, he felt that Miss Chevening's fastidiousness might 
 lead her to question the sincerity of a penitence flavoured with 
 recent tobacco. 
 
 ' I suppose,' said Langrish, lazily adapting himself to his chair. 
 1 you come here pretty often, eh ? ' 
 
 ' I have only known Mrs. Antrobus a few months,' said Orme. 
 ' I have dined here before, yes.' 
 
 1 And, if I heard rightly, this is not the first time you've met that 
 extremely charming young lady who seems to have somewhat 
 vague notions of time.' 
 
 ' No, it's not,' Orme said, feeling unreasonably averse to hearing 
 Margot discussed by this sallow and bla-se stranger. 
 
 ' I've been away from England so long, I'm out of it all. Who 
 is the lady ? for as usual I didn't succeed in catching her name.' 
 
 Orme informed him shortly. ' And I suppose she's one of the 
 great catches this season an heiress, and so on.' 
 
 ' I've no reason to believe so but I really know nothing about 
 it.' 
 
 ' Heiress or no heiress, she won't be allowed to remain Miss 
 Chevening long with that face, I should say.' He was watching 
 Orme's face narrowly as he made this supposition with an overdone 
 carelessness. 
 
 ' Most probably not,' Orme agreed, in no very encouraging 
 tone. 
 
 ' Ah,' said Langrish, with a certain air of relief, ' you feel no 
 interest in the question, or yon wouldn't speak like that. When a 
 man comes to my age,' and he gave an awkward little laugh which 
 seemed to invite a protest, ' he finds himself a looker-on by ne-
 
 IN A BALCONY 319 
 
 Cessity as well as choice. I vised to hold, as very likely you do 
 now, that no woman was worth sacrificing one's liberty for. I don't 
 say I was wrong now, and yet if I had had the luck to meet well, 
 a girl like this Miss "What's-her-name, when I was younger, I fancy 
 I should have been tempted to alter my opinion. I don't know 
 any way, it's too late to speculate aboiit it now. It's some fellow ot 
 her own generation that she's destined to make happy or con- 
 foundedly miserable, as the case may be and she looks as if she 
 was capable of doing both, probably has done both already more 
 than once ! It would be interesting to follow the career of a girl 
 Hive that as a dispassionate observer, and see what she makes of it. 
 I pity the man who marries her without mastering her she'd lead 
 him a dog's life ; and yet, after all, I dare say she would be kind to 
 her dog if he behaved himself ! ' 
 
 He was meditating aloud as he regarded his half-smoked cig- 
 arette with lack-lustre eyes. ^Vhen a professed cynic does indulge 
 in sentiment, he seldom does it by halves, and Langrish was at 
 once a pathetic as well as a slightly absurd spectacle in his evident 
 inability to conceal the impression Miss Chevening had made upon 
 his experienced heart. "Whether it was fellow-feeling or a con- 
 sciousness that, desperate as his own case was, his companion's was 
 even more hopeless, Orme found himself disliking him less, though 
 he did not allow himself on that account to be drawn into any specu- 
 lations concerning Miss Chevening's future. 
 
 And soon, after a few desultory remarks on other subjects, 
 Langrish threw down his cigarette, and, much to Orme's relief, pro- 
 posed that they should go into the drawing-room. 
 
 The last flush of sunset had died out as they sat at table, and the 
 lamps were being lighted as they came in. Both men's eyes 
 explored the shadows beyond in search of the same figure, and both 
 faces fell the next moment there was no Miss Chevening there. 
 Orme felt that his ill-luck had pursued him ; she had gone on to 
 some other party no doubt, perhaps she had even invented another 
 engagement ; she must have slipped away while Langrish was dis- 
 cussing her over that eternal cigarette of his ! 
 
 ' Oswald, dear,' said Mrs. Maberly, ' come here a moment I 
 want you. I've been having such a long talk with that Miss Cheve- 
 ning, and she tells me' the name had the effect of rousing 
 Langrish to an ultra-fraternal promptness of attention ; the next 
 best thing to talking to his late neighbour was hearing all about her, 
 which he settled himself to do accordingly. 
 
 Mrs. Antrobus came up to Orme, who made a really gallant 
 effort to appear as if he was unconscious that anyone was missing. 
 
 ' It won't do ! ' she said ; ' I know whom you are looking round 
 for now ; don't protest in that hypocritical manner ; you're think- 
 ing what a silly old woman I must be to let my pretty guest run 
 away at the beginning of the evening. It's hard on you, I must 
 say, because you were really very good at dinner. I noticed. And 
 now you shall have your reward. "Will you take this shawl and ask
 
 320 THE PARIAH 
 
 Miss Chevenirig to be good enough to put it on to please me ? If 
 you step through that window on to the balcony, you will find her 
 there. Don't trouble to entertain me, I've my other guests to look 
 after get away with you.' 
 
 She dismissed him with a nod full of good-humoured intelligence, 
 though she really knew nothing of the real case. She had been 
 told by her nephew that Orme was an admirer of Miss Chevening ; 
 she liked them both, and liked match-making even better, so, as she 
 could afford to be unworldly in other people's affairs, she had made 
 up her mind that the young man should have his chance at all 
 events, though she was completely in the dark as to Margot's own 
 sentiments. 
 
 Whatever came of it, Mrs. Antrobus would have something 
 romantic to think of, and it would be particularly interesting if the 
 affair should be settled, in either sense, on her own balcony. 
 How Margot's mother might regard such an engagement sup- 
 posing that were to be the result was not a matter which gave 
 Mrs. Antrobus any concern whatever. Mrs. Chad wick was doing 
 her best to secure Guy for her younger daughter, and, though the 
 old lady had rather helped than hindered this end it was because 
 she had been talked over by her nephew, and not because she 
 regarded Ida as an ideal match for him in any respect. So she 
 felt the more at liberty to treat any projects the mother might have 
 for Margot with indifference. 
 
 And thus it came about that Nugent was, after all, afforded the 
 opportunity he sought though with a very different object from 
 that his hostess attributed to him, for he stepped out upon the balcony, 
 knowing well that a lover's character would be the very last in 
 which Miss Chevening would tolerate him, and determined to force 
 her to declare the scorn and hatred she must be feeling. 
 
 She was sitting at an angle of the balcony, looking down upon 
 a spectacle that had not had time as yet to lose the attraction of 
 novelty. It was the year of one of the most popular and successful 
 of the short-lived series of Exhibitions that formed the delight of all 
 Londoners who were not inhabitants of South Kensington. The 
 Metropolis was just discovering, with a pleased surprise, that it was 
 as capable as others of enjoying itself in the open air, and the 
 summer, for once, permitted this to be demonstrated night after 
 night with impunity. 
 
 On a lovely evening such as this was, the scene, from a height 
 at which its least pleasing features were blurred or lost, had a 
 strange and almost magical beauty. Immediately below was the 
 great conservatory, filled with mild pearly radiance and outlined 
 without in points of ruddier flame ; coloured stars twinkled amidst 
 the dusky foliage of the poplars and plane-trees ; painted lanterns 
 swayed, like strings of Aladdin's jewels, in the night air; behind 
 the black trees, a column of sparkling water shot up, changing hue 
 every instant in the ray of electric light which travelled at times 
 over a portion of the vast Hall hard by, bringing its decorated frieze
 
 IN A BALCONT 21 
 
 tnd the ridged glass of its dome into startling prominence. And 
 from below, as an undercurrent to the strains of dance-music from 
 the kiosks, came up the confused tramping stir of humanity, that 
 densely packed mass of black and grey, which from the incessant 
 pipe-lighting, resembled burning tinder. Over it all, against a warm 
 greenish sky, the moon hung in a mellow haze, serenely unconscious 
 of its scientific substitute the monster electric light that poured 
 down crude insistent beams from its tigly iron mast. Viewed at 
 close quarters, the gathering was commonplace and vulgar enough, 
 no doubt, but at a distance only very superior persons would deny 
 its picturesque effect. 
 
 Not that Margot was thinking of that at the moment, though 
 the view from the balcony had been her avowed motive of coming 
 out. She wanted to be alone and think, and the subject of her 
 reflections was Nugent Orme. She was angry with him of course 
 she was angry with him for daring to speak as he did ; she did 
 not want to forgive him just yet but something in his manner 
 during that dinner had given her a new uneasiness. What if he 
 had changed his mind once more ? what if he no longer wanted to 
 be forgiven ? She had been observing him, even when she seemed 
 most attentive to her neighbour's remarks, and she had seen no 
 signs of anxiety or penitence ; he had answered her no further than 
 was inevitable when she spoke, but quite freely and naturally, as if 
 he were alike indifferent whether she was gracious or not, and 
 towards the end there had been something stern and determined in 
 the way in which he had concentrated his whole attention on Mrs. 
 Maberly. The idea that he her friend, the one man she knew 
 whose opinion she respected was content to drift away from her 
 for good and all was insupportable, and yet, if he did not come to 
 seek her now, she would know that this was so he had reconsidered, 
 and he condemned her ! 
 
 And then, as she was trying to make herself accept this, she 
 became aware that some one had come out upon the balcony she 
 would not look round, lest it should not be he. It was Nugent 
 at least he was not indifferent, then ! Though she would not let 
 him see the satisfaction she felt, perhaps she was perverse enough 
 to feel a revival of her original displeasure. 
 
 ' Is it you ? ' she exclaimed, with an accent of cool surprise. 
 
 1 1 was sent by Mrs. Antrobus,' he exclaimed. ' She wished you 
 to put on this.' 
 
 He had not come of his own accord, then he had been sent ! 
 ' I detest shawls ! ' she said petulantly. ' I mean, it is very kind of 
 Mrs. Antrobus, but I am perfectly warm here.' 
 
 ' Then I am to take it back ? ' Immediately after saying this 
 he regretted it, but it was too late. 
 
 ' If you will.' 
 
 For a moment Orme was tempted to take her at her word and 
 go, but he could not leave her until he had said what was in lug 
 mind. 
 
 If
 
 322 THE PARIAH 
 
 ' I will take it back presently,' he said, ' not now. 1 
 
 ' Why not ? I thought that was what you came for.' 
 
 ' It was not all I came for I came to say something to you.' 
 
 Her heart sank at his tone. ' I don't want to hear,' she said 
 faintly. 
 
 ' I will he as short as I can, but you must hear me. When we 
 last met, I asked you to give me some assurance that I might still 
 consider myself your friend. You refused to answer me at the 
 time, you remember ? ' 
 
 ' Yes,' she said. ' Well ? ' 
 
 ' It is unnecessary now,' he continued. ' I know that any real 
 friendship between us is impossible. I will save you the trouble of 
 saying so yourself. And I am not content, if you are, to go through 
 the mockery of friendship you chose to adopt this evening. I dare 
 say it was at least as disagreeable to you very likely you thought 
 it best under the circumstances ; I only know that I will never, if 
 I can help it, put you to such a necessity again. I would rather 
 that you cut me whenever we met than suffer again as I have to- 
 night ! Anything is better than keeping up a form that is dead 
 I ask you to spare me that punishment in future.' 
 
 He spoke wildly, unreasonably, hardly knowing what he 
 wanted or meaning what he said, in his despairing impatience to 
 anticipate the .worst. Margot sat silent, looking down with un- 
 seeing eyes on the lights and the moving throng below. At last 
 she said in a strangely subdued and even anxious way, 4 When 
 you say our friendship is dead, impossible is it because of any- 
 thing J have done ? ' 
 
 ' Did you not make it clear enough just now that you could not 
 forgive me ? ' 
 
 ' And you were not thinking about about Allen when you said 
 that ? ' 
 
 ' Allen ! what is Allen tome now, except that Is it possible,' 
 he cried, ' that I have not offended you beyond all hope ? can you 
 honestly, freely, forgive me ? ' 
 
 ' I was angry that you should believe I was quite so bad as 
 that,' she said in a low voice ; ' but I think I was even more 
 hurt you were so severe, you did not even wait to hear my 
 version ! ' 
 
 ' I know,' he said remorsefully. ' Do you think I don't hate 
 myself for it all ? I was Blind to believe that you could possibly 
 be capable of cruelty.' 
 
 She looked at him with great serious eyes. ' ' But if I was cruel, 
 a little cruel ? ' she said. 
 
 ' What you did was not cruel justice is not cruelty and you 
 acted, as far as you could tell then, for the best for all even for 
 him. No, you are right to be angry ; right, even if you can't bring 
 yourself to pardon me. It was a monstrous charge to think of 
 bringing against you, and yet I brought it. But somehow I ask 
 3'ou now, thc^igh I did not dare a few minuta* ago, to have more
 
 IN A BALCONY 823 
 
 charity than I showed to believe how deeply ashamed I feel of 
 having wronged you, and forgive me.' 
 
 1 Forgive you ? ' she repeated softly ; ' and some day you will 
 Bay the same things to me again is it worth while ? ' 
 
 ' Xow you are really cruel ! ' he exclaimed. 
 
 She rose and stood there facing him, with eyes half resentful, 
 half reproachful. ' But it is true,' she said. ' You can't change 
 your nature all at once. Have I ever done right in your eyes since 
 we first knew one another? You have always found fault and 
 scolded me for what I did or did not do. When you said nothing 
 I knew you were disapproving of me still. Is that friendship? 
 Ought not one's friends to be a little blind to one's faults, to to 
 believe in one a little even though one may do wrong things ? I 
 think so.' 
 
 He could not answer for the moment ; she looked so fair and 
 spirited and innocent, her loveliness gaining a mysterious glamour 
 in the strange glow of reflected light that reached the balcony 
 where they two were alone, high above and apart from the ordinary 
 world. A dreamy waltz refrain floated up to the balcony, filling 
 up the pause. 
 
 ' No,' she continued, in a tone of conviction that was touched 
 with sadness ; ' you don't really believe in me you never will ! ' 
 
 Then he found words words that came from him in spite of 
 himself, and that he had not thought of uttering till that instant. 
 ' I not believe in you ! ' he cried ; ' is it possible that you think that 
 that you have not guessed not seen ? You won't trust me even 
 as a friend, and yet I must say it now, though you will send me 
 away when I have done it is more than that I would be if I 
 could ! Margot, I love you. I know it is mad worse than mad 
 to tell you so now, but I must. I must ! . . . I will not have you 
 unjust to me ! ' 
 
 He caught the fair hand which rested on the balcony and which 
 she did not withdraw, even though he was hurting it unconsciously 
 in the energy of his strong grasp. 
 
 ' Speak to me ! ' he pleaded eagerly. ' You are not angry I Tell 
 me you are not angry ! ' 
 
 She turned her face to him again ; her eyes were very bright, 
 and a tremulous smile played about her lips. ' I I don't think I 
 am angry,' she said slowly. 
 
 Even then he could not understand that this great happiness 
 could really be his. ' Margot tell me,' he said, ' is it true you 
 don't hate me ? ' 
 
 ' I never hated you,' she replied, almost in a whisper. 
 
 1 But do you love me ? Enough to be my wife ? ' 
 
 She let him draw her towards him till her proud head was nest- 
 ling against his shoulder. ' If you care to take me,' she said with 
 a little low laugh full of content and he understood at last. 
 
 Neither had spoken for some little time : he was still wondering} 
 if this were not a dream. ' How pretty it all looks down there.
 
 824 THE PAKIAH 
 
 doesn't it ? ' said Margot at last (when she first came out she had 
 found it all garish and bustling). ' I wonder if there are people in 
 that crowd as happy as we are ! Somehow I feel as if it was a 
 good omen, having all that brightness about us.' 
 
 While she spoke the scene suddenly changed, the lights died 
 out everywhere, leaving the glass halls grey and cold and the trees 
 mere shadowy masses of black ; a great bell began to clang harshly ; 
 shrieks and screams and boisterous calls came up from the crowd 
 of pleasure-seekers as they hustled towards the exits. 
 
 Margot gave a little shiver. ' I wish they had not done that 
 just then ! ' she said. ' How foolish of me to mind ! Only, Nugent, 
 I want you to promise me something. I know I am not good 
 (no, don't interrupt, I know best) only promise not to think horrid 
 things of me again be satisfied with me as I am ! ' 
 
 'I shall not promise,' he said, 'because there is no need for it 
 now. If I did not know it before, I know now that you are far too 
 lovely and good for a poor fellow like me ! ' 
 
 She smiled. ' If you will only think so always. And now, 
 hadn't we better take Mrs. Antrobus's shawl back ? I shall like 
 Indian shawls after to-night.' 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 MRS. AKTKOBUS AS A DIPLOMATIST. 
 
 EVEN Margot felt a little diffidence in facing those three pair of 
 eyes in the drawing-room, after the change in her life that had 
 taken place during the short absence on the balcony. There was 
 nothing awkward or self-conscious in her manner, however, as she 
 came in, though, to an observer of any penetration, the glory of 
 sudden happiness which had not had time to fade out of her eyes, 
 and the dreamy gentleness of her smile, would have told a tale. In 
 Orme's bearing, as he followed, the position of affairs was less 
 poetically perceptible ; the least demonstrative of men can scarcely 
 disguise the fact of being a recently accepted lover, and avoid a 
 certain indescribable air of shamefaced triumph ; if he does, he is 
 apt to err on the side of an unconsciousness fatally overdone. 
 
 One glance was sufficient for Mrs. Antrobus, though she con- 
 tented herself with saying, ' So you haven't rejected the shawl, my 
 dear ? I hoped Mr. Orme would succeed in persuading you.' 
 
 ' He did,' replied Margot demurely. ' Thank you so much for 
 sending it out to me.'
 
 MRS. ANTROBUS AS A DIPLOMATIST 825 
 
 Mrs. Maberly, who would hardly have noticed anything, if it 
 had all occurred under her very eyes, remarked upon the protection 
 an Indian shawl was, and the danger of trusting oneself at any 
 season on a balcony without one. ' Ah, well,' said Mrs. Antrobus, 
 ' I hope that, thanks to my foresight, Miss Chevening will not regret 
 having trusted herself on my balcony.' 
 
 Private reasons made Langrish keener of sight than his sister,; 
 after such a brilliant beginning, his evening, poor man, had had a 
 dismal ending. He had been in torments for the last three-quarters 
 of an hour, and it is to be feared his hostess was not incapable of 
 enjoying his sufferings. Too late, he had discovered that Miss 
 Chevening had not left after all ; she was outside and that young 
 fellow with the square saturnine face was boring her with his con- 
 versation. The ingenious arts he used to induce Mrs. Antrobus to 
 brave the night air, his perseverance in speaking of the view there 
 must be from her windows, his industriously laboured allusions to 
 the Exhibition, were almost pathetic but the old lady proved in- 
 credibly dull of comprehension. She sat like a rock, and gave him 
 no excuse for leaving his seat for a moment, while his sister, who 
 might have helped him, was too indolent and too much afraid of 
 neuralgia to second his manoeuvres. And now, though he did not 
 guess the truth, he did begin to have a dim suspicion that this re- 
 served young barrister fellow might possibly not be such a deter- 
 mined misogamist. He did his best to make up for lost time by 
 enjoying what he could of Miss Chevening's conversation, and he 
 found her more charming and delightful than ever, more disposed 
 to agree with him, easier to amuse. There was a new sweetness 
 in her smile, an added sparkle in her eyes, which, when his sister 
 signified an untimely desire to go, sent the poor man away with a 
 dull pain in a heart that had been long a stranger to such symptoms, 
 and a wonder whether, after all, women were particular about a 
 man's age. 
 
 Mrs. Maberly had been pouring out her sorrows to Margot, to 
 whom she had taken a languid fancy, much in the same strain as 
 Nugent had been treated to at dinner ; she left her with an urgent 
 invitation to come and see her at the Langham, where she would 
 be until she went abroad in August, an invitation, however, of 
 which Margot had the smallest possible intention of availing herself. 
 
 ' You are not going to desert me too ? ' said Mrs. Antrobus to 
 Margot, who was holding out her hand in farewell. ' I was hoping 
 for a little chat, now those tiresome people are gone.' 
 
 But Margot had an intuition of what the old lady was dying to 
 hear, and not even gratitude could bring her to talk of it so soon. 
 1 Another day,' she murmured with a pretty, caressing, pleading 
 gesture ; ' my maid must be waiting. I promised not to be late 
 please let me go now.' 
 
 ' Very well,' was the reply. ' I dare say Mr. Orme will see you 
 to your carriage.' 
 
 In the anteroom was Susan, on a chair, with that pleasing air
 
 826 THE PARIAH 
 
 of undeserved martyrdom which she was wont to adopt on such 
 occasions. Orme noticed that her mistress's gracious friendliness 
 had absolutely no effect upon the girl. As they went down the 
 stairs (for he did not feel called upon to suggest the lift), Susan 
 following, he whispered, ' Shall I see you to-morrow when I come 
 to speak to Mrs. Chadwick ? ' 
 
 Margot started. ' We shall have to tell mother ! ' she said (how 
 dear the ' we' was to him). ; I I had forgotten that and what 
 will she say ? ' 
 
 Orme himself had a very uncomfortable prevision of what 
 Mrs. Chadwick would say. 
 
 'Whatever she says,' he replied, 'promise me, Margot, you 
 Won't let yourself be talked into into giving me up.' 
 
 ' You want me to promise that ? ' she said in a hurt tone. 
 1 Already ! I told you you didn't believe in me. Whatever I am 
 I can be true Nugent.' 
 
 ' I do believe in you, darling,' he said passionately. ' I am 
 afraid of nothing your mother can do we shall be happy some 
 day, in spite of her.' 
 
 'I thought we were happy now,' she answered softly, and Orrne 
 accepted the rebuke, not without a passing irritation at the remem- 
 brance of the presence of Susan a few steps behind ; he thought 
 she might have had the sense to go down by the lift ! 
 
 As it was, he had to control his rapture, and put Margot and 
 her maid into the hansom, with as matter-of-fact an air as he could 
 assume, though he did not succeed, even thus, in disarming Miss 
 Susan's suspicions. 
 
 4 To-morrow ! ' she repeated to herself as they drove away ' and 
 what is there about to-morrow so particular that he should look 
 like that ? Ah, you deceiving cat ! J can see you a-srniling to 
 yourself in the corner there. J know what's up between you and 
 him and a deal too good he is for a heartless piece like you. But, 
 if I know missis, you'll smile the other side of your face to-morrow, 
 and I shan't be sorry for one ! ' 
 
 ' I 'ope you've 'ad a pleasant evenin', miss ? ' she said aloud. 
 
 Margot came out of her reverie. ' Did you speak, Susan ? Oh, 
 thank you yes, it was pleasant,' she said gently, without any of 
 the hauteur which she could not always repress in speaking to 
 Susan, her dislike to whom she tried in vain to overcome. The 
 girl had given no cause for complaint since she had been with 
 them ; she was not unkind to Lettice, she was a clever and attentive 
 maid, but it was always an effort to Margot, until that evening, to 
 submit to her services ; she had a constant sense that she would be 
 impertinent if she dared. 
 
 To-night, however, Miss Chevening was in charity with all the 
 world. 
 
 What were Orme's thoughts as he walked home alone under 
 the stars ? His heart was full of a passion of wondering gratitude 
 a happiness so intense as to terrify him into some approach to
 
 MBS. ANTROBUS AS A DIPLOMATIST 827 
 
 Boberness, with that odd but universal impression that it is not safe 
 to be so happy. She loved him after all, in spite of all ! How 
 strange and far away now seemed all the hopes and fears with 
 which he had gone to that dinner, with only a suspicion that she 
 might be there ! And how little could he have hoped for this ! a 
 reconciliation, a half-hearted readmittance to friendship, had seemed 
 an impossible piece of good-fortune then. How wonderful it all 
 was ! How he loved even his past misery for the sake of its sequel ! 
 He knew Margot so little still but he felt now that there were no 
 discoveries in her nature that could make her less lovable in his 
 eyes. She was perfect, more perfect for her very imperfections, 
 which he had once in his folly and presumption so grossly exagger- 
 ated. When he thought now that he had been suspecting her of 
 an act of cold-blooded cruelty But why should he think of it ? she 
 had explained everything there was an implied disloyalty in the 
 very recollection of it. 
 
 Was there another motive beneath this resolve to forget ? had 
 he a secret disinclination to examine her denial too closely an un- 
 easy fear of the doubts which might, for all he could tell, be in a 
 state of suspended animation ? 
 
 If he had, he was not aware of it ; he had done with doubt for 
 ever ; he believed in her implicitly, in her essential womanliness 
 and sweetness, her truthfulness and candour; to that faith he 
 would cling for what remained for him now if he lost hold for an 
 instant ? 
 
 There was no conscious effort in this belief ; but, if it is true 
 that a really robust faith shrinks from no inquiry, dreads no self- 
 questioning, then Orrne's belief in Margot fell short of the standard 
 of perfect soundness, passionately as had it been suggested to him 
 he would have denied the imputation. 
 
 Early the next afternoon Mrs. Antrobus received a visit from 
 Mrs. Chadwick ; she came alone, and her expression as she sat 
 down showed that she considered herself an aggrieved person. 
 ' No,' she said, in reply to the conventional inquiries, ' I am not 
 well how could I be, after such a shock as I received last 
 night ? ' 
 
 1 Dear me ! not a carriage accident, I hope ? ' said Mrs. Antrobus. 
 ' London coachmen are so shockingly intemperate ! I remember 
 having to discharge one because he drew up solemnly at eleven 
 o'clock at night at the Marble Arch, which he insisted was my 
 front door.' 
 
 ' My coachman is a blue-ribbonist,' returned Mrs. Chadwick 
 stiffly, ' and I have had no accident of that kind I wish it had 
 been no worse than that. The shock came from my eldest daughter, 
 who came into my room the moment I got home last night, and 
 told me something which grieved and surprised me more than I 
 can say. It seems that Mr. Orme took advantage of meeting her 
 under your protection to actually to propose to her, and, what is
 
 328 THE PARIAH 
 
 worse, I fear, from all I can gather, that she did not discourage 
 him as unmistakably as she ought to have done ! ' ' 
 
 ' That sounds very shocking and immoral,' said Mrs. Antrobus, 
 ' ab least, if, as I suppose, Miss Margot happens to be already en- 
 gaged to somebody else ? ' 
 
 Mrs. Chadwick was in a state of polite fury at not being able 
 to make the old lady understand her feelings. ' Surely,' she said 
 sharply, ' it is bad enough as it is, without any complications of 
 that kind ! My daughter has had more than one exceptionally 
 good offer, down at Gorsecombe and since we came to town, but 
 she has persistently refused to listen to one of them.' 
 
 ' Then I fail to see why she should not listen to my young 
 friend, if she likes him.' 
 
 4 Oh, you must see I'm sure you do see in jour own heart ! 
 a young man like this Mr. Orme the son of the vicar in our own 
 village at home ' 
 
 ' Hoity-toity ! ' was the expression Mrs. Antrobus would have 
 liked to use just then, only one cannot say 'hoity-toity' without 
 some infringement of the strict etiquette of afternoon calls. So 
 she said instead, ' I was not aware that to be the son of even a 
 country vicar is to be outside the pale of society.' 
 
 ' It is not a question of the pale of society at all. Mr. Orme, 
 the father, is an excellent man and much respected in the parish. 
 As far as I know, his son is a worthy young man enough, but not 
 a match for my daughter Margot ; with her beauty and the oppor- 
 tunities I am now in a position to give her, she might marry any- 
 body ! ' 
 
 ' Then why not Mr. Orme ? but I understand you. ' And yet, 
 for the life of me, my dear, I don't know in what his inferiority 
 consists if you'll pardon my plain-speaking. A man can but be a 
 gentleman, and you'll hardly deny that he is that, while your 
 pretty Margot, charming as she is (and no one can admire her 
 more than I do), is a colonel's daughter. Where is the glaring 
 inequality ? ' 
 
 ' Where ? ' exclaimed Mrs. Chadwick ; ' you must have very 
 extraordinary views to ask such a question. In his means, in his 
 prospects, in the position he could give her ! ' 
 
 ' Of course now I understand. Your daughters are heiresses,' 
 said Mrs. Antrobus, perfectly aware they were nothing of the kind. 
 
 ' I did not say so,' retorted Mrs. Chadwick ; ' they have nothing 
 of their own, poor girls, though I have no doubt that, provided 
 they made suitable matches, their step-father would behave 
 generously towards them.' 
 
 ' Then we come back in a circle again,' persisted the old lady ; 
 ' why isn't Mr. Orme a suitable match ? He's a gentleman, as we 
 both agree, clever, good-looking enough, though he isn't a beauty- 
 man for which you may thank the Lord. As to his means, I've 
 taken the trouble to make inquiries, and I can assure you that he 
 is making a fine income already for a young man of his standing,
 
 MES. ANTROBUS AS A DIPLOMATIST 829 
 
 and, from all I can hear, he's likely to be rich and famous enough 
 to satisfy any reasonable ambition in a few years. Upon my word, 
 I don't know what more you want. Is it so easy to make a really 
 brilliant match for a girl who has nothing but good looks and good 
 birth and breeding ? Young men are shy enough of marriage in 
 any case in my experience. I must say that, if you take my advice, 
 you will be satisfied with things as they are I'm sure they might 
 be very much worse.' 
 
 ' It is so easy to talk in that way ! ' said Mrs. Chadwick ; ' but 
 you are not a mother you don't see things with a mother's eyes ! 
 If you did, I think yes,' she added, unable to restrain her sense of 
 injury, 'I do think you would have been more careful, you would 
 not have allowed things to go on without so much as warning me. 
 I am not reproaching you, dear Mrs. Antrobus but I must feel 
 that you have not been quite quite considerate to me ! ' 
 
 ' Well, I'm not going to defend myself there I did allow it to 
 go on. I'm a sentimental old woman, though you wouldn't think 
 it, to look at me, and I hold that the only true marriages are those 
 of affection. I'd rather see a girl I was fond of in her grave than 
 married to a man for his title or his money. But that's my eccen- 
 tricity ; and, after all, you have not told me what you mean to do 
 in this case. As one who takes a decided interest in both parties, 
 I think I've some right to be informed. I suppose you have seen 
 Mr. Orme ? ' 
 
 ' No, indeed,' said Mrs. Chadwick, drawing herself up ; 'he 
 called to see me this morning at such a ridiculously early hour 
 nearly eleven that it was quite impossible to receive him.' 
 
 ' So you told him to call again, like a tradesman very civil 
 treatment, I must say, considering that he probably had to make 
 some sacrifice to call at all just then ; but I suppose you will con- 
 descend to see him some time, and what will you say to him when 
 you do see him ? ' 
 
 ' What can I say ? I shall tell him that it is out of the question, 
 utterly out of the question that I can't hear of any sort of an en- 
 gagement between them that I trust to him as a gentleman to 
 give up all idea of it.' 
 
 ' Very pretty ! Poor Mr. Orme ! he has not lost much by not 
 seeing you this morning, it seems. But now, my dear Mrs. Chad- 
 wick, before you quite make up your mind, suppose you listen to 
 me for a little. I don't think you were at all unwilling to let your 
 daughters come to me whenever I asked them. And I fancy you 
 must have had some suspicion that my nephew Guy was, shall we 
 say, attracted by your daughter Ida ? ' 
 
 ' If you mean ! ' began Mrs. Chadwick, flushing angrily. 
 
 'Of course I don't but listen. I have done what I could to 
 encourage it, to give Ida an opportunity of seeing if she cares for 
 Guy, who is a dear good fellow, and deserves to be happy. I think 
 that, through me, they have met at more places this season than 
 they could have done if I had not chosen to interfere. I don't
 
 830 THE PAEIAH 
 
 know, by the way, how far you approve of my proceedings in that 
 respect ? ' 
 
 4 How can you ask ! ' cried her visitor. ' We are all fond of Guy, 
 and, though I should not dream of dictating to a daughter of mine, 
 and, of course, I don't know what dear Ida's feelings for him may 
 be ' 
 
 ' Exactly,' interrupted the old lady unceremoniously, ' you would 
 offer no obstacles ; you are fond of Guy, and Guy will have Haw- 
 leigh some day, and Ida may be Lady Hotham. Well, I see no 
 particular objection to all that, if it happens. I'm peculiar, as I 
 said, and though Guy is my nephew, I'd rather see him settled and 
 happy with a nice girl he was fond of, even if he never got a penny 
 with her, than turning into a mere man about town a selfish, ex- 
 travagant rake, who believes in nothing, and cares for nobody but 
 his precious self.' 
 
 ' Oh, so would I ! ' put in Mrs. Chadwick emotionally ' far, far 
 rather ! ' 
 
 4 We are two such unworldly people, you see ; but you mustn't 
 be offended by what I'm going to say : You might offer no 
 obstacles, but I'm afraid you would find that they would be less 
 reasonable at Hawleigh. My sister-in-law has an idea that Guy 
 ought to make a very good marriage indeed. I'm afraid that even 
 a commoner's daughter, unless she was extremely rich, would 
 hardly satisfy her Oh, of course it's very ridiculous and narrow- 
 minded and all that sort of thing, but some mothers are like that, 
 my dear Mrs. Chadwick, and we must be prepared for it.' 
 
 Mrs. Chadwick sighed and said she found it difficult to believe 
 that any mother would oppose the happiness of her own child from 
 mere ambition. 
 
 4 Ah, but it is so, I assure you ; Lady Adela would look at it 
 very much as you look at Mr. Orme's proposal. But, as to 
 " opposing a son's happiness," why, she woiild tell herself that Guy 
 was too young to know his own mind, that he would soon get over 
 the disappointment, as very likely he would, for even now I am by 
 no means certain it's more than a passing fancy, or that, without 
 constant opportunities of meeting, it would ever come to anything 
 serious. Well, she would say all that and, what's more, she would 
 reproach me bitterly for allowing and encouraging it. I dare say I 
 should survive it ; and I've some influence with my brother, and 
 even my sister-in-law would not care to quarrel with me she didn't 
 make me Guy's godmother for nothing. So in time I should get 
 my way, I don't doubt ; but, to tell you the truth, I am cured of 
 interfering in other people's concerns.' 
 
 4 You will not ? Oh, my dear Mrs. Antrobus, why do you say 
 
 BO?' 
 
 4 Because I am unlucky. Aren't you here now to reproach me, 
 because I don't look at marriages with a mother's eyes ? I had no 
 business to interfere, and that's the truth of it. I give up Mr. 
 Orme : send him away if you like you won't offend me, or, I dare
 
 MRS. ANTROBUS AS A DIPLOMATIST 831 
 
 eay, break naughty Margot's heart past mending. Only, I must be 
 consistent ; if it's impertinent to interfere in one case, it's as bad 
 in the other. I shall keep on the safe side in future, and give my 
 dear sister-in-law a hint that a trip round the world would do 
 Master Guy no harm. I think he'd go, too.' 
 
 ' I'm sure,' said Mrs. Chadwick with stateliness, ' that you know 
 me too well to think I am a designing or or a harsh mother with 
 my daughters ; I only want to do the best for them I can. And 
 what you tell me about Mr. Orme does make a difference. I'd no 
 idea you took so much interest in him, and he really is nice I 
 always felt that about him.' 
 
 ' Does that mean that you can put up with him as a son-in-law 
 after all ? ' 
 
 Mrs. Chadwick saw no way out of it ; an engagement was highly 
 undesirable, but still there need be no question of marriage for some 
 time yet it was not as if it was necessarily final. And she could 
 not afford to quarrel with Mrs. Antrobus, for she knew very well 
 that, devoted as Guy seemed to be, he was by no means secure at 
 present, and, without his aunt's countenance, might easily slip 
 through their fingers altogether. 
 
 So she said, with a very creditable show of cordiality, ' How 
 can you talk of it in such a way ? Of course I shall be delighted, 
 though I may not be altogether pleased, in some respects, to 
 welcome Mr. Orme as one of the family. One thing I must 
 stipulate for they must not think of marrying at present.' 
 
 ' They can both wait a little while for that,' said Mrs. Antrobus. 
 ' Well, I'm very glad you take so sensible a view of it, my dear. 
 But I was sure you would.' 
 
 'And about dear Guy for he is really such a favourite of 
 mine ! ' began Mrs. Chadwick, as she was rising to go. 
 
 ' A greater favourite than even Mr. Orme ? ' put in the old lady 
 grinilj-. ' Well, what about dear Guy ? ' 
 
 ' I was only going to say I don't think a trip round the world 
 would be would be very ' 
 
 ' Don't you ? no more do I, my dear ; make your mind easy 
 he isn't going he shall stay and make love to little Miss Ida to 
 both their hearts' content.' 
 
 And, comforted by that assurance, Mrs. Chadwick was able to 
 take her departure, leaving Guy's affectionate aunt to enjoy the 
 success of her diplomacy.
 
 382 THE PAKTAH 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 AUTUMN MANOEUVRE 8. 
 
 Wait a little, wait a little, 
 
 You shall fix a day. The Window. 
 
 ON his second visit Orme found a more gracious reception than his 
 first abortive attempt to ask Mrs. Chadwick's consent had led him 
 to hope for. She was not particularly cordial even then there 
 was a resignation in her manner that was scarcely flattering, but 
 she did not oppose an engagement, provided that there should be 
 no mention of marriage at present. Nugent, not having contem- 
 plated an immediate marriage, was perfectly content to accept the 
 proviso ; it was happiness enough for him to see his love from 
 time to time and enjoy all the privileges of an accepted lover. 
 Margot either was or pretended to be disappointed at so matter-of- 
 fact an ending. ' I thought from mother's manner last night 
 that it was going to be much more exciting than this,' she said 
 playfully ; ' all my determination not to give way is quite wasted ! 
 I had made up my mind to encounter every kind of opposition, 
 and to prove to you how constant I could be and now well, you 
 must admit it is a little tame, Nugent.' 
 
 ' I can do without the excitement,' he said ; ' I can't do without 
 you.' 
 
 She shook her head. ' You won't appreciate my society nearly 
 so much now you can have it every day you will soon begin to 
 disapprove of me again.' 
 
 4 Margot, you don't really believe that ? Won't you ever under- 
 stand what you are to me ? ' 
 
 ' I do think you are fond of me,' she said ; 4 you think me so 
 much better than I am or ever can be. I believe I am just a little 
 afraid of what you will feel when when you begin to find me out.' 
 
 'Afraid of me ! ' he cried. 
 
 ' There are very few people I have ever been afraid of,' she said, 
 ' but I think I might be of you. If you were really angry you 
 would be very severe. After all,' she added, 4 1 am not sure that 
 that is not one of the things I like best in you, only you must try 
 not to be too severe with me, Nugent. Make up your mind now 
 to be disappointed a little I wish you would.' 
 
 Nugent's protest was practical rather than argumentative, and 
 Lettice, by arriving in the middle of it, caused a certain embarrass- 
 ment. 
 
 ' I did startle you,' she said. 4 Does being engaged always 
 make people as nervous as that ? it must be rather stupid if it does, 
 J should think. May I stop ? I'll be very quiet, Margot.' 
 
 4 You needn't be quiet, Lettice,' said her sister ; ' I want you to 
 come and speak to your new brother.'
 
 AUTUMN MANOEUVRES 833 
 
 I don't want any new brother instead of Allen, thank you,' 
 Baid Lettice. ' "Wherever Allen is, I've not left off having him for 
 my brother.' 
 
 ' Nugent is quite a different kind of brother from poor Allen, 
 Lettice,' said Margot, with a faint line of displeasure showing 
 itself upon her forehead. 
 
 4 You never did like Allen, did you ? I liked him. Shall you 
 like Mr. Orme, do you think ? ' 
 
 ' I am going to try,' said Margot. 
 
 ' Margot is going to marry me some day, Lettice,' said Nugent, 
 1 so you see you and I ought to be friends.' 
 
 ' If you marry her, you'll take her away from us all we want 
 her most ! If you would let her stay here, I don't mind being 
 friends, I'll be your sister even yes, I will really if you'll promise 
 me you'll never want to marry her. You can be engaged quite 
 well without that, you know lots of people are.' 
 
 ' It will be a long time before I leave you, Lettie, so you mustn't 
 begin to worry about that now. And you like Nugent, you know.' 
 
 4 1 like him as a now-and-then visitor,' Lettice admitted, ' if 
 he'll only go on being that.' 
 
 But, in spite of this guarded approval, she gradually relaxed 
 under Nugent's advances until she even condescended at parting to 
 invite him, entirely on her own account, to come again soon. ' If 
 you come early in the afternoon,' she said encouragingly, ' you're 
 nearly sure to find me at home ! ' 
 
 Ida was never weary of congratulating, wondering, and ques- 
 tioning. ' When did you first begin to fancy you liked him, 
 Margot ? What first made you think he was in love with you ? 
 Are you very, very happy ? W T hat does it all feel like ? I never 
 thought you would care for anybody, somehow. And you do care 
 for him ? you are quite certain ? I am sure he is very nice Guy 
 is so fond of him ! ' and she sighed, ' I wonder if Guy and I will 
 ever be like that. He is so strange now, so changed, Margot. He 
 was at that fete last night (I never thanked you for letting mother 
 take me instead of you thanks, awfully, now, dear), but he hardly 
 spoke to me ; do you think he doesn't care for me after all ? he 
 did once, I know ! Margot, if he went away now, and nothing ever 
 put things right between us, I think it would kill me. But you are 
 BO happy you have no tune to feel for me any more ! ' 
 
 And Margot had to answer and console her as best she might ; 
 it made her anxious to see the intensity of Ida's attachment for 
 Guy Hotham, and she dreaded to think of the consequences, should 
 he prove to have had no serious intentions. 
 
 Orme, at all events, was perfectly happy if he had not been, 
 he would have been hard to please indeed. He had won the prize 
 beautiful, proud Margot was his ; scarcely a day passed without 
 their meeting, if only for a few minutes, and the prospect of seeing 
 her when his work was over made him less rather than more 
 fensible of the wearisome monotony of much of his labours the
 
 884 THE PARIAH 
 
 waiting in a stifling court for his case to come on, the conferences 
 and consultations, the drafting of complicated instruments which 
 taxed his ingenuity without exciting his enthusiasm all this in 
 some way had ceased to be irksome. And when any occasion 
 came for displaying higher abilities, it seemed to him that he had 
 never been in fuller command of all his powers. He had now a 
 double incentive to ambition, and, so far from distracting or ener- 
 vating, the thought of Margot inspired and fortified him to do hig 
 utmost. 
 
 Nor did she fulfil her prediction that she should disenchant him 
 as he came to know her better. Had she been ever so exacting 
 and unreasonable, he would still have found her charming, but she 
 made no attempt to abuse her power ; she had impressed him 
 once as self-willed and intolerant of anything that interfered with 
 her good pleasure he found her devoted to Ida, trying as her 
 peevishness was at times. To him, Margot showed a sweet docility 
 which, coming from her, was strangely touching : it seemed as if 
 she found a new and piquant pleasure in submitting her will to 
 another's, and there was a touch of playful exaggeration about this 
 humility of hers that prevented it from being spiritless. 
 
 It was happiness that had worked this change in her, for she 
 had never been so happy before ; always, till now, a secret discontent 
 with herself and her life had coloured all she did and said. Now 
 that she knew that Nugent loved her, troubles and uneasy recol- 
 lections were forgotten, he would never call her in question about 
 Allen again she had silenced all his objections on that score, 
 she had his approval of the course she had taken. The only 
 thought that disturbed her sometimes was that he might 
 come to condemn her once more some day. What if Allen came 
 back and was repulsed by his father But why meet evil half way ? 
 he had not come back, perhaps he never would come back at 
 least not until Nugent and she were married ; he might come then 
 for aught she cared. 
 
 It will be seen that Miss Chevening's conscience, in spite of all 
 the arguments she employed to quiet it, still disturbed her for the 
 share she had taken in Allen's banishment. It slumbered mostly, 
 it did not seriously affect her ; but time, which softened her step- 
 brother's offences, made her conduct towards him the less excusable 
 in her own eyes, and curiously enough, perhaps, she had never felt 
 this more strongly than after she had vanquished Nugent' s con- 
 demnation. However, conscience, as some character in a Resto- 
 ration drama observes, ' is a tender babe,' and certainly has the 
 recommendation of being more easily lulled than most babes. 
 Possibly Margot' s self-reproaches did no more than supply a zest 
 to the bliss of loving and being loved, and she was far enough from 
 any real regret that Allen was conveniently lost sight of, if she was 
 not actually capable of hoping that he was no longer alive. 
 
 Nugent had, of course, to write and announce his engagement to 
 Millicent, a task which not even his feelings as a lover could mak
 
 AUTUMN MANCEUVBES 335 
 
 pleasant. He had not quite forgiven her for so nearly coming 
 between them, and he was conscious, too, that his news would 
 seem to her a confirmation of her fears that he would disregard 
 the warning. Something of these feelings, though he abstained 
 alike from either reproach or apology, crept into his letter in spite 
 of himself. ' I suppose I must not expect congratulations from 
 you,' he wrote ; 'if you choose to consider that this is weakness 
 and infatuation, and that I could ever have spoken of love to 
 Margot without having good reason to trust and honour her why, 
 then you must, and I am sorry, but can't help it. But I think you 
 know me better. She has told me everything little as I deserved 
 it ; and when you have heard the real facts, which I have persuaded 
 her (very much against her will) to let me tell you, I think your 
 sense of fairness will lead you to own that you have been in too 
 great a hurry to be quite charitable ' (and here he told her shortly 
 Allen's character and offence, as he had learnt them from Margot'a 
 own lips). 'I can't believe, Millicent, that you will be so preju- 
 diced as not to feel some compunction for having misjudged her ; 
 now that you know all the circumstances, I won't think, until you 
 oblige me, that you will persist in continuing this estrangement 
 with Margot or show any coldness in receiving her. But if you do, 
 the loss will be yours, not hers, and I need hardly say that any 
 remonstrances or laments you may think fit to make will not have 
 the slightest effect upon me.' 
 
 It was not a very politic production, but he was too proud a 
 lover to adopt a more conciliatory tone it would have been an 
 indignity to his love had he implied that Margot stood in any need 
 of his pleading. 
 
 Millicent read the letter at breakfast one brilliant July morning, 
 while the bees were humming over the flower-beds outside the open 
 windows ; she had time to master the contents of the letter un- 
 observed, for her mother was not yet down, and the Vicar had not 
 come in from his before-breakfast stroll round the lawn. 
 
 She was wounded rather than angered, as some sisters might 
 have been, by Nugent's tone ; he wrote as if he expected to find 
 her unsympathetic, if not hostile, and, what was worse, as if he did 
 not particularly care whether she were so or not, except on 
 Margot's account he did not even pretend that Margot herself 
 ivas anxious for a reconciliation. 
 
 Was Millicent hostile ? He had disregarded her warning, he 
 was going to marry this girl ; was it such a mistake ? If she had 
 been in Margot's place, and had known Allen to be a dangerous 
 hypocrite, a thief, might she not have determined to have him sent 
 away before he brought some open and indelible disgrace upon the 
 family? No; Millicent felt that she herself would not have had 
 the heart she would have yielded, have given him, however worth- 
 less, one more trial. But she could see that another might act 
 differently, and yet deserve no condemnation. 
 
 "Why had not Margot told her all this ? Poor Millicent could
 
 336 THE PARIAH 
 
 only conclu le that she had not thought her friendship worth retaifl- 
 iug ; or was she too generous to defend herself by blaming another 
 until she was forced to do so ? The light way in which she had 
 treated the matter seemed less heartless now yes, Millicent had 
 been unjust, and her injustice had nearly wrecked her brother'3 
 happiness ; was it wonderful that he wrote coldly to her ? 
 
 She could not think him infatuated or weak, she recognised the 
 strength of his character he would not have yielded to this love if 
 it cost him respect for himself and her. If Nugent acquitted 
 Margot, she could not deserve blame. 
 
 And the conviction of this, humbling as it was, had redeeming 
 points for Millicent. She had admired and loved and looked up to 
 Margot so much, it had gone to her heart to separate from her, to 
 feel that she could not be her friend. And the discovery that she 
 had been wrong was not made grudgingly, as is apt to be the case 
 with less generous natures. Millicent actually bore no resentment 
 against Margot for having been misjudged by her, she was not even 
 jealous of her for having won Nugent's love. She was proud, for 
 his sake ; Margot was so lovely, so captivating, it was natural that 
 Nugent should be attracted by her ; she was glad now, whatever 
 she had been before, that she was to have such a sister-in-law. 
 
 If only they would both forgive her and take her into their 
 hearts as before, she was ready to make any sacrifice of her 
 personal dignity ; she owed full reparation, and she would pay it. 
 
 So, by the time Mrs. Orrne had taken her place behind the 
 silver presentation urn, and the Vicar had decided that he was 
 entitled to come indoors, Millicent was able to tell her news with 
 every sign of satisfaction. 
 
 ' Miss Chevening, is it ? ' said her father. ' Well, I admire his 
 audacity one of the loveliest girls I've ever seen. Lucky fellow ! ' 
 
 ' I don't see that the luck is all on Nugent's side, really, 
 Cyprian,' said Mrs. Orme. ' I'm not at all sure that Margot 
 Chevening is the girl I should have chosen for Nugent.' 
 
 ' We have never had an opportunity of meeting that ideal 
 young woman yet, my love ; and, really, in the meantime Miss 
 Chevening is a very attractive and charming girl. Nugent can 
 put up with her till the other lady appears. ' 
 
 'I only wish,' sighed Mrs. Orme, ' thather step-father wasn't such 
 a dreadful person.' 
 
 ' Chadwick ? Yes ; I can't say I care about being more inti- 
 mate with Chadwick than I can help, particularly if he sticks to 
 his present way of life,' said the Vicar ; ' but, after all, he's only her 
 step-father ; there's no reason why we should see much more of 
 him. Does Nugent say when he intends to set up house, Millie ? 
 Shouldn't advise him to do so just yet. I've a notion Miss Margot 
 would be an expensive young lady for a struggling young barrister 
 to start housekeeping with.' 
 
 ' I don't think Nugent has thought of all that as yet,' said 
 Millicent ; ' and indeed, papa, I don't believe i\Iargot's a bit 
 extravagant; you only say so because she always wears such
 
 AUTUMN MANOEUVRES 337 
 
 lovely frocks, but they're quite simple ones, really, only so perfectly 
 made ! ' 
 
 'Are they, Millie? I dare say you may not believe it, but I 
 never gave her frocks a thought. I was only doubting whether, 
 well as Nugent is getting on, he can afford to give her the luxuries 
 she is used to ; however, that's his affair,' said the vicar, with his 
 mouth full of dry toast, ' so long as she will wait for him. Give 
 them both my love and my ah blessing when you write, and ask 
 when we're to see them down here.' 
 
 ' I hope and trust that Nugent has been guided to make a right 
 choice,' said his mother. 
 
 ' Oh, I dare say she'll have a little money ; Chadwick ought to 
 do something for her,' said the more secular-minded vicar, as he 
 cracked an egg, ' he's rich enough.' 
 
 ' That was not at all what I meant,' said his wife in a superior 
 manner ; ' the money is neither here nor there.' 
 
 ' It is certainly not here, my dear,' retorted the vicar, who was 
 in reality far more indifferent to snch considerations than his wife ; 
 ' but, for Nugent's sake, I should not be sorry to hear there was a 
 little there. The angel in the house isn't always quite such an 
 angel in furnished apartments she'll soon moult can't keep love- 
 birds long on chickweed, you know ! ' 
 
 ' Cyprian, I wish you would not joke on such subjects. I don't 
 like to hear a clergyman making jokes about angels living in lodg- 
 ings, it doesn't sound reverent or consistent to me ! ' 
 
 ' You didn't understand the allusion, my love ; I was referring 
 to Coventry Patmore's Angel,' said the vicar mildly. 
 
 'I don't want to hear about anybody's angel moulting and 
 being kept on chickweed,' said Mrs. Orme. ' I call it profanity.' 
 
 So the vicar contented himself by a comic elevation of his eye- 
 brows in silent appeal to his daughter, and no further reference 
 was made at the time to the engagement. 
 
 Millicent wrote a penitent and at the same time gently 
 reproachful letter to Nugent, protesting against his assumption 
 that she would be unwilling to acknowledge her mistake, and 
 assuring him that she fully recognised that she had been wrong. 
 He must forgive her and believe that she had only spoken out of 
 love for him and under a sincere conviction that her statements 
 were true. No one rejoiced more than she did to be able to think 
 that Margot was as lovable as she was lovely, and her only regret 
 was that Margot could not feel enough confidence in her to dis- 
 abuse her at the time ; she ended with warm congratulations and 
 earnest wishes for his happiness. 
 
 ' So Millicent has written,' said Margot to him ; ' I have heard 
 from her too. I didn't know you would tell her all about Allen, 
 Nugent ! ' 
 
 ' You gave me leave,' he said. 
 
 1 Then it was foolish of me. Everybody will know it now. I 
 
 z
 
 338 THE PARIAH 
 
 do hope Millicent won't think it necessary to say any more about 
 it to me or anybody else.' 
 
 ' You can trust Millicent she is not a gossip ; but why don't 
 you wish her to mention it to you ? ' 
 
 ' Because I don't,' she said, with one of her wayward frowns. 
 ' I hate the whole subject. I don't want to hear any more about 
 it. Did I say that very crossly ? I can't help it, there has been 
 so much fuss made about it already. You will tell Millicent that I 
 would rather she didn't mention it when we meet, won't you ? I 
 can't very well say so myself.' 
 
 ' But you are going to write to her ? ' he suggested, ' she is 
 longing to be friends with you again.' 
 
 4 Of course I shall write soon. But you know, Nugent, though 
 she is your sister, she did very nearly make mischief between you 
 and me." 
 
 ' Surely you will forget all that now ? ' 
 
 ' I'm not sure that I can forget quite so easily. Millicent is so 
 very good, she makes me uncomfortable sometimes. Still, I am 
 very glad she doesn't disapprove of me so much as she did. I shall 
 try to keep her good opinion as long as possible.' 
 
 He had to be content with that for the present, though he 
 wished she could have met poor Millicent's overtures with more 
 responsiveness, but evidently the misconstruction still rankled. 
 
 Even this touch of petulant resentment, however, lost any 
 touch of hardness under the charm of the expression which accom- 
 panied it, and seemed to indicate that she was less seriously dis- 
 pleased than she chose to represent. And there is no doubt that in 
 her heart Margot was relieved by Millicent's unequivocal surrender, 
 and had no intention of rejecting the proffered olive-branch. 
 
 July was drawing to an end, and the turf in the Parks was 
 burnt and cracked, and the trees were turning a darker and deader 
 green ; in the streets the musical old cry of ' Sweet laven dar ! ' 
 sounded Kke a lament for the expiring season. Day by day the 
 block of carriages grew less complicated, the list of social arrange- 
 ments in the daily papers shorter and less exclusive. Parliament 
 was talking hopefully about rising, Goodwood was near, Society 
 was arranging its plans for yacht, or moor, or foreign health 
 resorts. 
 
 It was a welcome time for most who had been born to or 
 achieved the right of revolving in some one of the rings of the 
 social whirlpool ; for Mrs. Chadwick the day when the whirlpool 
 would subside and its prisoners be released seemed anything but a 
 day of deliverance. 
 
 On that day she would have to go not to Cowes, nor Yorkshire, 
 nor the Continent but to Gorsecombe, to a life she detested, and 
 a husband who declined to be ignored. And her season had not 
 been a success ; her sister, Lady Yaverland, had not asked her tc 
 her best parties. Margot, just when people were beginning to rave
 
 AUTUMN MANOEUVRES 339 
 
 about her, had thrown all her chances away by getting engaged to 
 a penniless barrister, and Ida was no nearer being engaged than 
 before. Whether Guy or Ida was more in fault for this she could 
 not discover; she might have contrived to ascertain the young 
 man's feelings from himself, if only she could get a private talk 
 with him, but unluckily all her efforts to get him to the house of 
 late had fallen through, whether by pure accident (for he was a 
 youth of many engagements) or intention on his part, she could 
 not determine. And Ida certainly did not manage well ; she was 
 shy and constrained when she met him, and every interview seemed 
 to leave them less likely to come to an understanding. Her mother 
 could not even be certain that Ida had not some romantic scruple 
 which might account for this provoking behaviour, and the fear of 
 this helped to restrain her from precipitating matters by some 
 coup. 
 
 She could not ask Guy down to Agra House, it was too near 
 Hawleigh, and besides she knew that he was to accompany his 
 aunt to Hornburg at the end of the season. After his return home 
 of course he would be staying away at various places for the shoot- 
 ing, and even if he came to Hawleigh to hunt, he would probably 
 have got over his fancy by that time. 
 
 Mrs. Chadwick felt quite helpless, unless there was just one 
 chance unless she could persuade her husband to see that she and 
 Ida required a course of the Homburg waters. Once there, with 
 Mrs. Antrobus as a benevolent neutral, if not an ally, she felt cer- 
 tain that the event she desired would be brought about. 
 
 Chadwick came up to town just then, as he had done occasion- 
 ally throughout the summer, though he made his visits as short 
 as possible. He was more sulky and irritable than usual, and 
 his wife, as he fidgeted restlessly about the drawing-room, compar- 
 ing it to its disadvantage with that at Agra House, began to feel 
 doubtful as to the wisdom of broaching her scheme just then. 
 
 ' How you can have lived all the summer in a hole like this 1 
 don't understand ! Is it fashionable to keep your rooms as 'dark 
 as if you were in mourning for someone ? It makes me feel fit to 
 cut my throat ! ' 
 
 ' One must have the rooms cool,' said his wife, ' and that awn- 
 ing makes it possible to sit outside in the balcony.' 
 
 ' It keeps out all the air here, at any rate ; however, you won't 
 stay here much longer now ; your tune's up next week, isn't it ? 
 and then, I presume, I shall have the pleasure of your society at 
 home again ? ' 
 
 ' I I don't think quite just yet, Joshua,' she said nervously ; 
 ' I was thinking of taking Ida and Reggie over to Homburg for a 
 few weeks.' 
 
 ' And who was going to find the money ? ' 
 
 ' You are always so liberal about that,' she faltered. 
 
 ' Oh, I am, am I ? But it's beginning to strike me that I don't 
 get value for my money ; they're beginning to look shy on me
 
 310 THE PARIAH 
 
 down at Gorsecombe. I've do doubt they're saying I'm a fellow 
 whose own wife won't live with him, and, putting my own feelings 
 aside, I don't see why I should spend money to have that said of 
 me ! ' 
 
 ' But I should come back very soon.' 
 
 ' To tell you the plain truth,' he said brutally, ' I shouldn't care 
 a damn if you didn't come back at all. I've got on very comfort- 
 ably without you all this time, but it's the look of the thing I 
 mind.' 
 
 ' It is very unkind of you to say such things to me ! ' said his 
 wife, from under a handkerchief. ' You know I asked you to come 
 here with us, and you wouldn't ! And Ida has been ordered to 
 take the waters, and I'm sure I've tried to be a good wife to you, 
 Joshua, and and you wouldn't be alone at Gorsecombe either. 
 Margot and Lettice will be at home. How can people talk then 
 and what do you care if they do ? ' 
 
 ' I don't care ; it isn't that. So I'm to have Margot and Lettice, 
 eh? Well, that's better certainly, but they'll find some way of 
 backing out of it. They're too fine to come and live all alone with 
 me. Margot is at any rate.' 
 
 ' What am I at any rate ? ' inquired Margot, who had entered 
 the room in time to catch the last sentence. 
 
 4 Your mother wants to go to Homburg with your sister and the 
 boy,' he said, softened in spite of himself by the girl's bright beauty 
 as she stood there, smiling interrogatively, ' and she was proposing 
 to send you and the youngest girl down to keep me company at 
 home. I was saying that wouldn't suit your ideas, after the excite- 
 ment you've been going in for here.' 
 
 ' Oh, but it would ! ' said Margot gaily. ' I I like Gorsecombe. 
 And it would do Lettie more good than the seaside ; she is always 
 asking when we are going back. We will both come unless you 
 don't want us ? ' 
 
 ' Very well then, that's settled,' he said. 
 
 ' And I may take Ida and Reggie to Homburg ? ' his wife asked. 
 ' Take them to Timbuctoo if you like 1 I can do very well 
 without Ida ; she's no favourite of mine,' he said. 
 
 ' Thank you, Joshua,' said Mrs. Chadwick meekly ; ' and I'm 
 afraid I shall have to ask you for a cheque I haven't nearly 
 enough.' 
 
 ' Then you ought to have 1 ' he retorted. ' Why, you had enough 
 to have lasted you a year when you came up ! ' 
 
 Mrs. Chadwick murmured something about ' everything being 
 BO dear in town ; ' she did not think it advisable to mention that 
 she had left most of her bills unpaid he would discover that quite 
 eoon enough. 
 
 'Well,' he said, 'tell me what's the smallest sum you can do 
 with and I'll give you a cheque. I must have no more of this ex- 
 travaganceremember, or I shall put my fopt down in a way you 
 won't like I '
 
 AUTUMN MANOEUVRES 841 
 
 Margot was too accustomed to scenes of this kind to feel any 
 keen distress ; but what did pain and alarm her was her step- 
 father's contemptuous reference to Ida, for whom Chadwick never 
 concealed his dislike. 
 
 However, it was settled that Mrs. Chadwick should have her 
 way this time, and Margot was well content to go down to rest and 
 quiet at Gorse combe, where Nugent would probably find time to 
 be. Even the prospect of her step-father's society did not damp 
 her spirits she was not afraid of him, and he behaved with more 
 consideration to her than be showed for most other members 
 of his family. Margot thought that she would be very far from 
 unhappy.
 
 842 THE PARIAH 
 
 BOOK VI 
 
 NEMESIS 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 LOVERS AND A RENDEZVOUS 
 
 MARGOT never did write in reply to Millicent's letter ; she should 
 see her so soon that it really was hardly worth while, she said ; and it 
 was not until they actually met at Gorsecombe that Millicent knew 
 how far her overtures had succeeded. As soon as they were alone 
 together, she caught Margot's hands and looked up into her face. 
 ' Margot,' she said, ' can't you forgive me ? Mayn't we be friends 
 as we used to be ? ' 
 
 Miss Chevening bent down and kissed her on the forehead. 
 ' You ridiculous Millicent ! ' she said. ' Of course we may." 
 
 ' But say you forgive me ! ' insisted Millicent. 
 
 ' Forgive you ? ' repeated Margot ; and in spite of her smile 
 there was a touch of impatient displeasure in her voice. ' Oh, yes, 
 yes ! if I have anything to forgive you for there, let all that be 
 understood; there's not the least necessity to go over it all 
 again !' 
 
 So Millicent had to submit to be taken back into favour in this 
 high-handed fashion, which even she found a little trying to her 
 temper. But she was soon completely subjugated, as were all at 
 the Vicarage, by Margot's acceptance of her position as one of the 
 household. The Vicar was charmed by her playful deference to 
 him ; Mrs. Orme wished she showed more interest in village work 
 and topics generally, but admitted that she had a wonderful gift of 
 brightening any place she entered. 'And it brings Nugent down 
 here,' she would conclude ; ' we shall see more of him than we used 
 to. I really think this engagement is a good thing.' 
 
 Nugent had come down at the same time as Margot and Lettice, 
 having no vacation work to detain him in town, and being deter- 
 mined to set aside any professional considerations rather than 
 break the spell of these long, happy days, few hours of which were 
 spent away from his love.
 
 LOVERS AND A RENDEZVOUS 843 
 
 Constantly as he saw her, they were seldom absolutely alone 
 together. Gorsecombe society considered that their behaviour to 
 one another in public was not lover -like enough ; and even in 
 private he was sensible of a certain fastidiousness in her which 
 made him critical of his own utterances. But she let him see, too, 
 with a pride that scorned any shallow coquetry, how thorough was 
 her content to be with him, how completely her heart was his. She 
 was the dearer for the reverence she knew how to inspire in him, 
 and their intimacy was invested with a delicate charm that kept it 
 from all danger of palling. 
 
 Margot was very happy in these days ; she broke into little 
 snatches of song from pure lightness of heart ; she found it an 
 effort sometimes to control herself to walk sedatelj*, as she went 
 about the house or grounds ; everything and everybody, with 
 hardly an exception, had become interesting and delightful in the 
 Gorsecombe she had once found so dull. 
 
 And yet, at home, there was a cloud which, much as she would 
 have liked to disregard it, cast a shadow on this joyousness ! Her 
 old involuntary dislike and repulsion to her step-father had begun 
 to revive of late, heightened this time by an undefined terror. He 
 was away most of the day, driving or riding about the country, and 
 returning to dinner in the evening in a condition varying between 
 two extremes sodden taciturnity and boisterous hilarity. He took 
 wine freely at dinner, and she could see that he was in the habit of 
 drinking heavily during the day. In every respect he had greatly 
 deteriorated ; he was less careful of what he said before her ; there 
 was an extravagance in his geniality, a wild light in his eye at times, 
 that made her dread some violent outburst. She was glad when she 
 could rise from the dinner table and join Lettice in the drawing- 
 room, where he never followed. 
 
 The fact was that his sentiments towards his beautiful step- 
 daughter were rather complicated. He admired her ; he would 
 have been fond of her had she shown any sign of affection for him ; 
 as it was, he was quite able to see that her dutifulness was a matter 
 of expediency, and that in her heart she did not respect him, in spite 
 of his blustering attempts at authority or his clumsy efforts to in- 
 dulge her. The engagement with Nugent roused a dull resentment ; 
 he had not been consulted, had been left out of the matter ; he 
 would have been ready enough (if for no other reason than that his 
 wife was opposed to the match) to behave handsomely had his 
 assistance been asked ; but Margot had chosen to dispense with it, 
 for which he bore her a secret grudge. 
 
 He was glad to have her there, nevertheless ; it suited his 
 humour when he was in a fit state for such amusement to try to 
 provoke her proud spirit. He enjoyed seeing her eyes sparkle with 
 anger, as she bit her lip to keep from retorting to his allusions to 
 her family. At the same time, he was careful not to go too far ; 
 in his worst moments hitherto, he had never entirely lost an 
 involuntary awe of this girl, which protected her against attacks
 
 344 THE PARIAH 
 
 that she might not have found it possible to ignore or over- 
 look. 
 
 She was willing to bear much rather than that he should expend 
 his ill-humour upon its legitimate objects her mother and Ida. 
 Their absence abroad was the grievance which seemed to arouse 
 his chief displeasure. He spoke of it, the expense, the uselessness, 
 with a smouldering ferocity that might break out into a sudden 
 blaze at the slightest pretext. Margot knew what hopes were asso- 
 ciated with that stay at Homburg. For Ida's sake, she dreaded a 
 disappointment ; she had been charged by her mother to keep 
 Chadwick in good humour at all hazards, but the strain on her 
 nerves and temper was very severe at times. 
 
 As before, however, her natural buoyancy and perfect health 
 carried her through. She could not mind anything much not 
 even the almost nightly penance of bearing with the humours of a 
 half-drunken man ; not even the prospect of renewed dissensions 
 when her mother relieved her from her duties now that she had 
 Nugent's love to sustain her. 
 
 She was silent even to him, concerning such disagreeables as she 
 had to bear ; she scarcely remembered them in fact, after they had 
 once passed ; and much of the indifference with which she met her 
 step-father's provocations was due to the fact that her mind wad 
 happily engaged in recalling what had passed during the day. 
 
 She rejoiced in the assurances every day brought her of the 
 depth of Nugent's love, the supreme power she could exercise over 
 him at will ; she felt herself surrounded by an atmosphere of uni- 
 versal adoration which she had never appreciated before. At the 
 Vicarage they made much of her ; the Eddlestone girls were her 
 devoted slaves and admirers. Her romantic choice of Orme, when 
 it was rumoured that some of the oldest names and finest estates in 
 the country had met with rejection at her hands, disarmed the 
 jealousy of the most envious rivals ; all spoke well of her, even in 
 her absence ; she won interest, sympathy, hearts, wherever she went. 
 
 And it was only natural that the consciousness of all this should 
 produce a pleasant sense of self-approval that consoled her for the 
 less agreeable side of her life. It made her view her behaviour to 
 her step-father her patient submission to his perversities her en- 
 deavours to put as good a face as possible upon her home life before 
 the prying eyes of Gorsecombe gossips, in something of an heroic 
 spirit. 
 
 Heroine or not, there came a time when her stock of forbearance 
 was exhausted. She was sitting over the dessert with her step- 
 father, who had been glowering and growling during the whole of 
 the meal with even less than his usual regard to the presence of the 
 servants. Margot was feeling tired and dispirited; Nugent had been 
 called suddenly to chambers, and this time on a matter he must 
 attend to. It had been hot and close all day, and she had gone to 
 tea with the Eddlestone girls, and come back with a headache. 
 
 The evening post had just come in, and Chadwick was reading
 
 LOVERS AND A RENDEZVOUS 345 
 
 the letters that had been brought him, when he flung two of them 
 across the fruit to Margot. 
 
 ' Perhaps you'll be kind enough to explain what these damned 
 things are about ? ' he said. 
 
 ' They seem to be bills,' replied Margot calmly. ' One is the 
 jobmaster's and the other the dressmaker's.' 
 
 ' I am able to see that for myself. Why hasn't your mother paid 
 them ? What the are they sent in to me for ? ' 
 
 ' I really can't tell you,' she said with a weary disdain. ' No 
 doubt mother will be able to explain all about it.' 
 
 ' I shall take good care that she does explain ! Perhaps you 
 don't know that she had an allowance which was enough to settle 
 twenty such bills as these ? Do you suppose I should have been 
 fool enough to give her more if I had known she had left any 
 accounts unpaid ? She distinctly gave me to understand when I 
 gave her a cheque for this German bath nonsense that she owed 
 nothing anywhere ! ' 
 
 ' Isn't it possible that you misunderstood her ? ' said Margot ; 
 not, however, feeling much confidence in her suggestion. 
 
 ' No, it's not. I tell you your mother got that last cheque out 
 of me by false pretences by what was nothing more nor less than 
 downright lying swindling ! ' 
 
 Margot rose. ' You can't expect me to listen to this ! ' she said 
 haughtily. 
 
 ' Stay where you are, do you hear ! ' He looked so savage, with 
 his eyes glaring at her out of the gloom, that she stood by her chair 
 without attempting to leave. ' Do you think I married to let myself 
 be ruined in this way ? Have you any idea what your mother with 
 her fine ideas and her smart friends has cost me already ? How do / 
 know what bills she's run up since you've been away ? I'll not be 
 made a fool of any longer. She shall come back at once, or I'll go 
 out and fetch her myself! ' 
 
 ' If you do that,' said Margot, ' you will do more harm than you 
 have any idea of. You will most probably ruin yes, ruin Ida's 
 health and her happiness too ! ' 
 
 ' What the devil do I care for Ida ? If the truth was known, 
 she's had the greatest share in all this extravagance. I'm not 
 blind. I know your mother is setting her heart on a grand match 
 for her. She don't deserve it a whining, puling, affected thing 
 like that. If it was you now ! But you've chosen to take up with 
 that barrister fellow. And just mind this : I'm not going to stand 
 by and let my money be flung into the gutter to please your mother, 
 
 or Ida, or anybody else. Why d n it all, I turned my only son 
 
 away for not much more 1 ' 
 
 ' I wish you had turned us away instead 1 ' she said passion- 
 ately. 
 
 ' I may come to that yet, with some of you,' he retorted. ' I'm 
 near the end of my tether.' 
 
 'If you are near the end, I am nearer,' she said. 'How dare
 
 346 THE PARIAH 
 
 you talk as if you were ill-used and cheated by us ? Why did you 
 marry my mother ? You did not even pretend it was for lovb you 
 wanted someone who would help you to make a position here 
 Would anybody come here would the people about here even 
 speak to you now, if it was not for us ? You know they would 
 not ! And now now you have got your position, you are doing all 
 you can to disgrace it, and us. You insult our friends when they 
 come, you refuse to pay the slightest attention to ordinary civilities, 
 and you wonder that mother is willing to go away anywhere, to be 
 away from you a short time ! You ought to be grateful that she 
 does not refuse to live in your house at all. I wish she would and 
 take us all anything would be better than this ! You are rich 
 how rich I don't know, but you are rich and it is mean and 
 cowardly and tyrannous to complain of expenses which can be 
 nothing to you. You expected certain things from us ; how have 
 we disappointed you ? What have I done, what has any of us 
 done, that you should say such things of us ? ' 
 
 He sat there with open mouth, listening to this tirade ; she 
 looked so superb in her rage that his own fury, which was mostly 
 worked up by the action of drink on an inflamed brain, exhaled in 
 sullen admiration. 
 
 4 1 wasn't speaking of you,' he said ; ' you're perfect, I know,' he 
 added, with what was only a perfunctory sneer. ' You're not very 
 flattering to me, I must say. I never said I wanted to get rid of 
 you, or grudged you anything, did I ? ' 
 
 ' I will be treated as the others are,' she said. 
 ' Well,' he went on, ' I got excited. I didn't mean to blame you 
 about those infernal bills damn the bills ! but, for all you say, I 
 think I've got some right on my side, and I don't mean to stand 
 this sort of thing for ever. However, I dare say I said things I'd 
 better have left unsaid, though, by God I it wouldn't take much 
 more to make me as good as my words, too. The bills can wait till 
 your mother comes back . . . and and shake hands, like a sensible 
 girl, and say no more about it.' 
 
 He held out a great hand, and Margot, feeling that she should 
 infallibly break down if she remained there any longer, just touched 
 it with her own and hurried away. 
 
 Chadwick helped himself from the spirit-decanter, after which 
 he sat musing. 
 
 ' Damn it ! ' he said half aloud, ' I like her pluck ; she turned on 
 me like a little queen. . . . Pretty things for a man to hear from 
 his step-daughter. If the other girl had said half that I should have 
 killed her, I believe 1 ' 
 
 If Margot had come away victorious, she was in no mood to 
 exult over her success. She was a little ashamed of it ; she hated 
 these sordid quarrels. By reminding him of what he owed to his 
 marriage, she felt that she had descended to his own level. And 
 yet she had averted a real danger ; he was capable just then of 
 carrying out his threat if her sudden blaze of indignation had not
 
 LOVERS AND A RENDEZVOUS 347 
 
 sobered him in a way that could not have been expected. She 
 thought of her mother, with her feeble stratagems and unnecessary 
 deceptions, and trembled for the future. As to her own, she had 
 less uneasiness ; soon she would be away from all this safe with 
 Nugent. But Ida '? If Ida missed making this marriage by any 
 chance, what a life would be hers, under her step-father's sneering 
 banter, varied by such threats as he had just used, without her own 
 power of self-protection ! No ; that should never be ! Ida should 
 live with her ; she should not be left to wither under a blighting 
 sense of dislike. 
 
 But Margot felt too shaken and unstrung by that evening's 
 encounter to write to Nugent, as she had intended ; she could not 
 have written without betraying her distress and anxiety in some 
 way, so she preferred to be silent. The next morning she had 
 letters which brought back her gaiety one from Nugent, the first 
 he had ever written since their engagement, full of his misery at 
 his absence from her and announcing his return that evening the 
 other from Ida, written in the highest spirits from Homburg. She 
 was ' happier than she had ever had any idea of; Guy had spoken at 
 last ; they had both been very silly in not understanding one another 
 sooner ; it seemed that he had actually taken it into his head that 
 
 she did not care for him. Not care for Guy ! As if ' and here 
 
 followed raptures in Ida's usual hyperbolical strain. 
 
 But Margot felt all her fears of the previous evening disperse. 
 Ida was safe now, safe and happy, and Nugent was coming back I 
 what did anything else matter ? 
 
 ' Why, Margot, you kissed me on botli cheeks ! ' exclaimed 
 Lettice, after releasing herself. ' Is is anything the matter ? ' 
 
 ' Nothing, you uncomplimentary child ! ' said Margot ; ' only 
 yu look so nice in that pretty pink frock, I couldn't help it.' 
 
 ' I think my blue is nicer, but it isn't the week for that,' 
 observed Lettice. ' Margot, papa's gone out for all day, he won't 
 be home to dinner. Aren't you glad? Now I can have dinner 
 with you ! ' 
 
 ' You shall, pet ; and do you know what we will do this morn- 
 ing ? You shall get Susan to help you with your habit, and we 
 will have a long ride together, just you and I.' 
 
 ' And take Yarrow ? ' said Lettice, with dancing eyes. 
 
 ' Not Yarrow he's not strong enough for a long run, poor 
 dear 1 ' 
 
 It has been mentioned already that Margot was now able to 
 gratify her love for riding ; Lettice had begun to learn in town, and 
 the Vicarage pony, a quiet animal, was. as to-day, generally at her 
 disposal. Lettice acknowledged the wisdom of leaving Yarrow at 
 home, the pony was brought round from the Vicarage stables, the 
 boy saddled Margot's mare, and she and Lettice set off in high 
 spirits. 
 
 They had no one in attendance, as the coachman had gone with 
 Chadwick and the dog-cart. Lettice chattered all the way through
 
 348 THE PARIAH 
 
 the village and along the road to the downs ; she had already 
 regained much of her health in Gorsecombe air. 
 
 ' We must be turning home now,' said Margot at the end of a 
 delicious canter over the springy turf, along the back of a ridge 
 commanding a great expanse of rich country lying bathed in a 
 shimmering haze of August sunshine ; ' we mustn't be late for 
 lunch; the Eddlestones are coming to tennis afterwards. Have 
 you enjoyed it, Lettice ? ' 
 
 1 N not quite so much as the pony ! ' said Lettice, conscienti- 
 ously. ' Don't you think your horse would like to look at the view 
 a little now, Margot ? ' 
 
 4 Oh, Lettie ! ' said Margot, laughing, ' we won't canter any 
 more, if that is what you mean, but I thought you were going to bo 
 such a horsewoman.' 
 
 ' I'm not a horsewoman yet. If I'm anything, I'm a ponygirl, I 
 suppose. And I like galloping fast very much, if it wouldn't take 
 my breath away so.' 
 
 So, seeing that Lettice was not yet completely at home in the 
 saddle, Margot went quietly home by the road which led past the 
 village green. 
 
 ' What a lot of people ! ' said Lettice. ' See, Margot, they're 
 putting up swings and a steam-circus and tents ; there's going to be 
 a fair there this evening.' 
 
 There certainly were more people about the village than usual, 
 and it was necessary to be careful in threading their way through. 
 When they were entering the gates Lettice said : ' Margot, am I 
 sitting very crooked ? ' 
 
 ' You sit very nicely, Lettice,' said Margot. ' Why ? ' 
 
 ' Because there was a man who stared at me so in such a 
 queer way, so I stared at him. And he was like like somebody, 
 and I can't think who, somebody I know ; it was only just the 
 eyes, you know. I wish I could remember ! ' 
 
 ' It was rude of him to stare,' said Margot, ' but it's not very 
 likely he was criticising your seat, dear. I shouldn't trouble my 
 head about him.' 
 
 But as Lettice was running upstairs to change, she stopped and 
 said softly to herself, ' I know now who had eyes like that Allen ! 
 But the rest of the face wasn't like him at all.' And she did not 
 mention it to Margot, who, she perhaps divined, would not be 
 pleased at the introduction of his name. 
 
 The Eddlestones came to tennis, and left late, after making 
 arrangements for a picnic expedition the next day. 
 
 ' What will you wear to-night, miss ? ' asked Susan, as Margot 
 came up to her room to dress. 
 
 ' Oh, anything,' said Margot ; ' there are only Miss Lettice and 
 I, you know ; it's absurd to dress.' 
 
 ' Yes, miss. Oh, there was a message I was to give you to 
 ask you most particular to be down at the summer-house, the stone 
 one, by half-past nine to-night.'
 
 LOVERS AND A RENDEZVOUS 849 
 
 1 Then --is Mr. Orme back, Susan ? have you seen him ? ' 
 
 Susan smiled demurely. ' I wasn't to mention no names,' she 
 said ; ' he seemed to think you'd know who it was.' 
 
 '.I didn't know Nugent was so romantic,' thought Margot; but 
 all she said was : ' On second thoughts, Susan, you can put out my 
 dress as usual.' 
 
 ' Very well, miss,' said the handmaid. 
 
 Lettice usually went to bed about nine, though she pleaded for 
 A little license this evening. At length Margot was able to induce 
 her to say good-night and go upstairs, but it was a little past the 
 half-hour when, throwing a light shawl over her head, she went 
 with a light step across the lawn and along the path to the place ot 
 rendezvous. 
 
 ' I shall have to scold Nugent for sending me a verbal message,' 
 she was thinking ; but she knew that her rebuke would not be very 
 severe. 
 
 Someone was waiting there in the shadow by the Indian fir. 
 But surely that was not Nugent's figure ? It came forward in a 
 hesitating, slouching way into the moonlight, and, starting with an 
 irrepressible gesture of dismay, she recognised the face changed 
 but unmistakable of Allen Chadwick 1 
 
 CHAPTEK II 
 
 A RETROSPECT 
 
 Sick in the world's regard, wretched and low, 
 A poor unminded outlaw sneaking home. 
 
 Hen. IV. Ft. 1, a. 4. 
 
 AFTER an absence and silence of nearly two years, Allen Chadwick 
 was once more returned to the home where his presence was so 
 little desired. What had been his history during all those months '? 
 Had he made good his promise of returning with wealth that 
 should justify his disobedience ? Why had he come home at this 
 particular time, and what was his object in seeking to see Margot 
 alone and in secret ? 
 
 These are points as to which it may be presumed that some at 
 least who have followed this history BO far will require to be in- 
 formed, and, this being the most appropriate and convenient place 
 for ouch information, it shall be given with as little tediousness as 
 possible. 
 
 We left him, it may be remembered, going out to Bombay, as a 
 saloon passenger, on the P. & 0. steamer ' Chusan.' Amongst tha
 
 850 THE PARIAH 
 
 passengers was a man named Denham. the only person on board 
 with whom Allen formed any real intimacy. Denham was a 
 communicative man, by no means exacting as to his acquaintances ; 
 he found Allen a good listener, and took a sort of fancy to him 
 during the voyage, which was not many days old before Allen had 
 been told most that there was to tell of the other's affairs. 
 
 Denham, it appeared, had been a coffee-planter in the Wynaad 
 district in Southern India, and, in a part of the estate not yet 
 under cultivation, accident had discovered what there seemed every 
 reason to believe was a valuable reef of gold-bearing quartz. He 
 kept the discovery to himself for a time, got rid of part of his 
 property, and, having bought up all that he could get of the land 
 under which the reef was estimated to lie, formed a company to 
 open up and work the mine. He had been to England for the 
 purpose of getting this company properly floated, and superintend- 
 ing the construction of the necessary mining-plant. In a short 
 time the mine would be at work, and in the opinion of all the 
 experts he had consulted would yield a fabulous return. Southern 
 India, it was confidently believed, was to prove a second California. 
 
 All this, and much more, he told Allen, as indeed most people 
 with whom he fell into conversation. To Allen the very name of 
 gold-mine was enough : he was going out against his will to a 
 business he detested in advance, in which he would bo under the 
 supervision of a man who had been expressly cautioned against 
 trusting him, in which no efforts of his could advance him materi- 
 ally. He confided to Denham his distaste to what lay before him, 
 and his longing to escape from it if possible. Denham commended 
 his spirit, and in a moment of expansion proposed one day that 
 Allen should accompany him to the scene of action they would 
 find something for him to do by-and-by in the accountant's office, 
 as he had some acquaintance with figures. Allen caught eagerly at 
 the idea, but he was anxious to have a more personal connection 
 with the venture. He had money, more money than he would 
 need now, he explained, Was it possible to get shares still, and 
 would Denham help him to do so ? Denham, after a little demur- 
 ring, undertook to manage this, and he did so out of sheer good 
 nature. He was a thorough believer in the mine himself, he was 
 pleased with Allen's enthusiasm, the shares were certain to go up, 
 the deposit amount was small, he would take care that the young 
 fellow, who evidently had no harm in him and only wanted looking 
 after, incurred no loss by them ; and so the greater part of the 
 money which Chadwick, in a fit of compunction, had given his son 
 at parting was laid out in this manner. 
 
 Arrived at Bombay, it was not difficult to get his baggage and 
 be safe in the Madras train with Denham, before Chadwick's 
 manager, who had no means of identifying him, had discovered 
 that he had been given the slip. 
 
 Five days later, Allen was at the Mattaputty mine from which 
 so much was expected. His notions had been of the vaguest kind,
 
 4 RETROSPECT 351 
 
 hardly going beyond a vision of men in red shirts washing immense 
 nuggets out of cradles. And the reality was a disappointment at 
 first There was plenty of activity, but not of the kind he had 
 imagined; coolies were cutting down trees, making roads, and 
 building sheds, huts, and bungalows. Along the face of the bare 
 and rugged hills, tunnels and shafts were being driven to ascertain 
 the dip of the reef, but he had not understood till then what long 
 and laborious processes were necessary before any appreciable 
 amount of gold could be extracted. 
 
 Denham, however, was always sanguine ; nothing serious could 
 be attempted until the elaborate ' batteries ' and ' stamps ' arrived 
 and were set up. In the meantime the assayers in London, to 
 whom samples had been sent, reported an average yield little short 
 of fabulous. 
 
 Allen soon caught the prevailing tone of enthusiasm. But there 
 was nothing for him to do ; his duties were simply nominal at 
 present, though he had a small salary which enabled him to live. 
 Sometimes, in very weariness of being idle, and impatience with 
 the slow rate of progress, he got leave to accompany the Cornish 
 miners into the tunnels and do such work as was entrusted to him 
 and dull and exhausting work he found it. 
 
 And then there were difficulties and delays ; some of the ma- 
 chinery was not sent out or miscarried on the way ; the buildings 
 erected to receive it were found unsuitable and had to be rebuilt ; 
 after months of unsuccessful labour it was discovered that the 
 miners had sunk their shaft on the wrong side of the dip and were 
 only getting further from the reef. All this did not prevent very 
 roseate reports being issued, nor did it shake Denham's confidence 
 in ultimate success, but it did make the expenses very heavy, and 
 dishearten many who had been hopeful enough till now. At last tho 
 machinery was in working order, the masses of stored quartz were 
 crushed and reduced, and gold, though barely enough to pay the 
 expenses of obtaining it, was actually produced. 
 
 But the enforced idleness, the feverish, constantly defeated ex- 
 pectation of some sudden good fortune had, as might have been 
 foreseen, a demoralising ett'ect on Allen. He was unpopular with 
 the staff, who looked on him as a useless intruder ; he had to make 
 friends as he could among the miners, some of whom were a rough 
 and reckless set ; he even associated with some of the Madrassee 
 Eurasians who were employed in the mine and who had most of 
 the vices of their mixed race. 
 
 Denham took little notice of him, though he warned him at 
 times against some of his companions, but he was too preoccupied 
 to take much interest in his proceedings. 
 
 Left to himself as he was, with no resources to occupy his mind 
 and no regular work to steady him, the wonder was rather that 
 Allen did not go to ruin altogether, than that he should be guilty of 
 an occasional lapse. But the same hope which made any settled 
 way of life impossible to haa the dream of some stroke of brilliant
 
 352 THE PAKIAH 
 
 fortune in which he would share preserved him from any irre- 
 trievable downfall. The knowledge of all that he had borne and 
 was bearing for Margot kept him from losing his self-respect en- 
 tirely. Every day that passed increased the claim he had on her 
 gratitude, he would not do anything that might make him ashamed 
 to return when he had the power. But there were times when 
 despondency got the better of him, and he took the only way of 
 escaping it that was open to him. And in due course the dry season 
 came on, and he was attacked by fever, which, though not dan- 
 gerous, lingered obstinately about him, wearing, weakening, and 
 depressing, till the rains brought relief and cure. 
 
 He learnt on his recovery that the mine was further from pro- 
 sperity than ever. During the dry season an unforeseen calamity 
 had befallen them, the waterpower by which all the machinery was 
 driven had failed, the reservoir had proved quite inadequate, and for 
 weeks the works had been almost at a standstill. Allen happened 
 to meet Denham on the day he heard this, and, in the irritable, 
 nervous state his illness had left, blurted out some expressions 
 which the other chose to resent. ' I meant to do you a good turn 
 by bringing you here,' he said ; ' I thought I could make something 
 of you in time but I see I was mistaken. And now you as good 
 as tell me I've swindled you ! I'll not be told that twice you 
 shall make over your shares to me, and I'll give you back what 
 you've paid on them, and the sooner you're out of this place the 
 better for me and for you ! ' 
 
 Allen had not expected this, and pleaded against dismissal, but 
 Denham' s patience was exhausted. Allen was of no use in the 
 office, he was glad of an excuse for getting rid of him, so the trans- 
 fer was made and Allen's connection with the Mattaputty mine 
 came to an end. And the day after this was finally arranged, the 
 tide of fortune turned another and a richer dip was struck, the 
 mine was in a fair way to pay at last, and Allen was left with the 
 tormenting reflection that he had behaved like an ungrateful fool, 
 and that if he had been content to keep his dissatisfaction to him- 
 self and wait a little longer, the shares he had parted with might 
 have realised a handsome sum after ah 1 . 
 
 However, he had to make his way back by Ootacamund to 
 Madras, where Denham had given him some introductions, though 
 he advised him not to stay in the country but to go home at 
 once. Go home ! Allen thought bitterly, what reception would he 
 have there now ? Should he make his way back to Bombay and 
 the Behar plantation ? He was ashamed to do so after so long a 
 time, and all this enforced idleness had unfitted him more than 
 ever for hard work. He got no further than Ootacamund, where 
 he stayed at the hotel while his money lasted which was not long; 
 he was reckless now, it seemed useless to be economical. With a 
 wild idea of repairing his folly he took to gambling, and there were 
 card-players there very ready to relieve him of his last rupee. Then 
 he waa obliged to find something to do, and succeeded in finding
 
 A RETROSPECT 353 
 
 employment in one of the shops in the town. It was hard but not 
 ill-paid work, and ho was able to put by a proportion of his wages 
 to pay his passage to England. For he was longing to get back 
 not that he had any definite purpose in returning, he certainly did 
 not dream of approaching his father at present but he was im- 
 patient to leave this strange, splendid, unfriendly India, where he 
 felt himself more incongruous than ever. In London he would 
 feel at home, even alone ; there would no longer be the great ocean 
 between himself and Margot. Who knew whether he. might not 
 find courage to see her some time, when he had earned -the right ? 
 
 Towards the middle of July the July in which Margot became 
 engaged he landed in England, poorer in purse and prospects than 
 he had left ; and, in London, he could think of no better plan than 
 applying to his old employers. Fortunately for him, they hap- 
 pened to have a vacancy just then, a situation far inferior to that 
 he had held, but one which he was glad to take nevertheless. He 
 had hired a room in Clerkenwell, and there he had lived for nearly 
 a month, going about his daily work in the big establishment with 
 a stolid indifference to the questions and sneers of some who had 
 been employed there with him before, and who were inclined to be 
 curious or merry concerning his short-lived career as a man of 
 fortune. 
 
 He lived a solitary life ; he had no friends, the aunt he had lived 
 with as a boy had left her old home long ago, and he did not know 
 her address. His life was temperate, he seemed to have lost all 
 taste for amusement of any kind ; when night came he was gene- 
 rally too tired to care for anything but sleep. Yet he was not 
 unhappy ; he was back in England, in the same country as Margot, 
 he was independent, he felt as if he was doing something to redeem 
 his mistakes. 
 
 He did not know she was in London ; he thought of her as 
 down at Gorsecombe, he was constantly dreaming of her. One 
 night in particular he thought he had come home and had gone 
 round by the garden and they had met. And she had come forward 
 and taken his hands and thanked him, her beautiful eyes wet with 
 tears, for the sacrifice he had made for her, pitying him for all he 
 had gone through. And then he thought she had explained why 
 she had been silent, and how there was no need for silence now, 
 and in some sweet indefinable way she had made him understand 
 that she loved him and had always loved him, that they would 
 never part now. And, with the wonder and rapture of this still 
 thrilling him, he had awoke to find it a dream ! 
 
 But this dream left a lasting impression upon him which time 
 deepened rather than effaced. It was so vivid, so lifelike, that it 
 seemed to Him like a sign or prophecy sent for his guidance. Why 
 might he not fulfil it ? 
 
 If he could only see her, and she could know the penalty he had 
 paid for shielding her, surely she would speak at last ! Whatever 
 reason^ she had had for not avowing her part in the matter before 
 
 A A
 
 354 THE PARIAH 
 
 must have ceased long ago to be of any serious importance. Still, 
 he could not go to his father until he had seen her first. Unless he 
 was able to come back with a full exculpation from the crime for 
 which he had been banished, he might as well stay where he was. 
 And how was he to clear himself without undoing his sacrifice 
 the one act in all his life which he could look back upon with pride ? 
 He would see Margot first; he would tell her all he had gone 
 through on her account, and how tired he had grown of his exile. 
 There would be no need to ask her to speak for him, she would 
 understand, she would be the first to insist on repairing her wrong, 
 his condition was different now from what it had been when he was 
 sent out. 
 
 He felt rather than reasoned all this ; two things were clear in 
 his mind that if he went back it should not be in disgrace, that 
 his exoneration should come through Margot. We all the least 
 imaginative of us dramatise little scenes with ourselves in the 
 role noble. Allen pictured that interview beforehand : she would 
 be shocked, remorseful, tender he would be generous and chival- 
 rous perhaps even the most extravagant part of his dream did not 
 seem altogether improbable to him. And at last he resolved that 
 he would delay no longer ; he would arise and go, like the prodigal 
 in the parable though, in his case, it was not his father from 
 whom he hoped most. He was like the prodigal in most respects ; 
 he had journeyed (though heaven knows unwillingly enough) into 
 a far country, he had wasted his substance with riotous living, he 
 had fed the swine and gone hungry himself, and yet he was not 
 going back in a spirit of litter self-abasement, not all the fault was 
 on his side, not all the forgiveness on theirs surely he might hope, 
 he too, for the robe and the ring, the fatted calf, and the music. 
 Some pardonable confidence he felt, a justifiable conviction that he 
 had a right to expect admission, that Margot would now be willing 
 to vindicate him. 
 
 It happened that he had a couple of days at his disposal, in con- 
 sideration of having been obliged, as the junior employe, to attend 
 at the office as usual on the August Bank Holiday ten days before. 
 And so he had gone down to Gorsecombe one bright August morn- 
 ing. With what mixed emotions he neared the little station ! 
 How familiar and unchanged everything looked ! There was the 
 road on which he had taken those terrible rides on Hussar ; there 
 was the copse where he had waited for Barchard that winter after- 
 noon. His heart sank as he got out of the train ; he had arrived 
 but what was he to do next ? How should he obtain that meeting 
 with Margot? 
 
 There were no carriages or dog-carts waiting at the station ; he 
 saw no one he knew, except the station-master and porter, who did 
 not recognise him. This was not extraordinary, for the beard he 
 had grown and exposure to a tropical sun had greatly altered him ; 
 he was poorly and roughly dressed too, having purposely put oa 
 his worst clothes.
 
 A RETROSPECT 855 
 
 He walked slowly down the dusty road from the station to the 
 village, thinking over his next proceedings. On an ordinary day 
 his appearance would have provoked curiosity and comment as he 
 passed down the main street, where strangers were always objects 
 of interest. To-day, however, there were other attractions ; a local 
 benefit club was holding its annual holiday, which was spent in 
 going to church in procession behind a brass band to hear a sermon 
 in the morning, and dining and disporting themselves generally for 
 the remainder of the day. A small fair with all the usual attrac- 
 tions was established on the green, and the place was too full of 
 visitors from the neighbouring villages, of tramps and gipsies, for 
 Allen's appearance to excite any sensation. 
 
 He passed the church, with the black and gold clock protruding 
 like a great eye from the base of its squat slate steeple. Outside in 
 the churchyard were the bandsmen and the banner-bearers, resting 
 tinder the lime trees with a comfortable conviction that hearing a 
 week-day sermon was not included in their duties. Inside, the 
 members of the club were listening to a discourse to which, being 
 proudly conscious of having subscribed to pay for it, they were 
 critically attentive, with a disposition to resent any dismissal before 
 at least an hour had expired. The wide street and the quaint little 
 shops were all just the same ; in the watchmaker's window the 
 same row of fat silver watches dangled, freckling their faces in the 
 sun. There was the same timepiece, constructed of varnished fir 
 cones one of them had fallen out, that was all. At the bonnet- 
 maker's, there was the same box of frilling in front of the muslin 
 curtains frilling amongst which a misguided bee was wasting his 
 time, under the evident impression that it was a honeycomb. And 
 the grocer's shop-front showed the same placards ; not a tea-chest, 
 nor a jam-pot, nor a jar of sweets seemed to have been removed 
 since he stood there that December morning, while his fate was 
 being decided by Margot only now the panes were alive with 
 wasps swarming up and down in restless activity, undeterred by 
 the ugly warning which a half- foot layer of their dead and dying 
 brethren below might have afforded. 
 
 Presently the club came out of church, decorated with blue 
 rosettes and gaudy green sashes, their red faces wearing a grin of 
 sheepish importance, and then, preceded by the band, slouched up 
 the street to promenade the green until dinner-time. Allen recog- 
 nised most of them, though they did not know him ; he was looking 
 on mechanically at the procession, when presently he saw some- 
 thing which made his heart leap within him. 
 
 Two persons were riding through the crowd, one a little girl 
 with long floating auburn hair under her velvet cap, the other, a 
 slender, lissom figure, who was occupied in soothing her spirited 
 little mare as it pranced delicately at the blare of the band. They 
 were Margot and Lettice, the only two beings he cared for in the 
 world. They passed close to him ; he could have touched the skirt 
 of Margot's habit but he could not find courage to speak to her. 
 
 AA2
 
 856 THE PARIAH 
 
 She looked far lovelier than the girl who lived in his memory 
 sweeter, happier. And how superbly she sat her horse ! They 
 passed on, the little girl looked at him curiously, but evidently 
 without recognition, and now they were clattering round the corner 
 out of sight. 
 
 Allen stood there rooted to the ground in the hot sun, looking 
 after them. She was here, then he might see and speak to her 
 before the day closed. He felt strangely excited and yet hopeful. 
 ' Perhaps,' he was thinking, ' by this time next week I shall be 
 riding with them I ' For his Mattaputty experiences had at least 
 left him a gainer in one respect he could ride decently enough now ; 
 it was the only means of getting about the country out there, and at 
 one time he had ridden constantly with Denham. The idea of 
 exhibiting this acquirement of his to Margot by-and-by gave him a 
 boyish pleasure ; in contemplating it he forgot all that had to be 
 gone through before he could take his place again in home life. 
 
 By this time the club had filed into the White Lion, where 
 the dinner was to be held, which reminded Allen that he was 
 hungry. He would dine too ; it would fill up the time while he 
 was arranging some plan for getting speech with Margot. At the 
 "White Lion he might be recognised, and he shrank from recog- 
 nition just then ; but there was the other inn, the Seven Stars, 
 just opposite, homelier but respectable, he had never been there 
 before. So to the Seven Stars he went. 
 
 CHAPTEB III. 
 
 BUT A LITTLE LONGER, 
 
 My Lady verily awaiteth me ; 
 So that until with Her I be 
 
 For my dear Lady's sake 
 
 I am right fain to make 
 Out from my pain a pillow, and to take 
 Grief for a golden garment unto me ; 
 
 Knowing that I, at last, shall stand 
 
 In that green garden-land, 
 And in the holding of my dear Love's hand 
 Forget the grieving and the misery. 
 
 Austin Dobson. 
 
 THE big kitchen of the Seven Stars looked very cool and com- 
 fortable as Allen entered. 
 
 There was company there, two labourers sat at one of the rough 
 tables, dining on bread and cheese and cold bacon ; a postman at 
 another near the settle, who, however, rose hastily as he saw a 
 stranger and removed himself and his food to an adjoining apart- 
 ment ; a very old peasant in a smock frock, who seemed to have
 
 BUT A LITTLE LONGER 357 
 
 had as much liquor as was good for him, and was seated on a stool 
 quavering unintelligibly to the fire ; and, lastly, Mrs. Parkinjear 
 herself on a chair in her usual corner. The sun gave a hrilliant 
 transparency to the red curtain and the green plants at the window, 
 leaving the interior of the room in shade. 
 
 ' Come in and sit ye down, sir, whoever ye be,' said Mrs. 
 Parkinjear. ' I've lost my eyesight, sir, as you can see, and I can't 
 attend to you as once I could, but my dear granddarter will be 
 back in a minute. It's a sad deprivation to me. Minnie'll be 
 here directly ; she's only stepped down to the cellar to draw a mug 
 of cider for postman here. You're fond of cider, ain't ye, postman ? ' 
 
 Naturally there was no reply, and the old lady called ' Post- 
 man ! ' then, more persuasively, ' Posty ! Ah, he'll have run away 
 when you come in. He's a wonderful shy sort o' man for a postman, 
 so he is ! ' 
 
 Allen gave his order when Minnie reappeared, and sat in the 
 background eating his humble fare, and listening to the labourers, 
 neither of whom he knew by sight. One was a good-looking, stupid 
 fellow, with a sleepy smile, white teeth, and luxuriant whiskers ; 
 the other, fair, florid, burly, and opinionated, seemed to be laying 
 down the law on the subject of mowing. Allen listened, partly 
 because there was nothing else to do, partly because he hoped sooner 
 or later to hear some allusion to his family. 
 
 1 Bumble's a very good mower, he is,' said the burly man ; ' a' 
 cuts in and a' cuts out, but a' takes a good deal less ground nor 
 what he used. Reason, why man's older.' 
 
 ' I carl old Eddards better nor him,' said the sleepy man, with 
 the air of one who speaks under correction. 
 
 ' Old Eddards is all very well in grass but what good 'ud old 
 Eddards be with a lawn, eh ? You cudn't put 'un in a clover-field 
 neither ; now, could ye ? ' 
 
 ' No, you cudn't put 'un to do that, sart'nly,' conceded the 
 other. 
 
 4 He could cut 'un, mind you, he could cut 'un but he wouldn't 
 git along, old Ecldards wouldn't. Now, there's you, Jim, you can 
 mow pretty well, I will say that of ye, and there ain't on'y one 
 fault I has to find with ye you mows too 'igh ; you cuts your 
 ground clane enough, but your bottom neb's too fur down the end 
 o' your scythe ; this 'and's too fur down the stick, d'ye see ? Now, 
 you bring your neb up just that fur apart ; then you can drive your 
 ground out straight, d'ye see ? ' 
 
 ' Yes,' said the other man, too sleepy to resent this advice ; 'yes, 
 I can see there's sense in that.' 
 
 'Ah, I know there is ! Now, there's 'Opper, he's a very good 
 mower he is a good mower if ye like lays his ground out straight, 
 
 makes a curve just no bigger nor that, lays around him like ! 
 
 Chadwick's gardener took him on for a job last month up at Agra 
 House, so a' was tellin' me. 1 
 
 But here, just as the conversation began to be interesting, Mrs
 
 358 THE PARIAH 
 
 Parkinjear struck in. ' I hope Minnie's been attending to you 1 
 sir ? ' she said to Allen. ' You must mention it if you ain't got all 
 you require. 'Tis a fine afternoon, isn't it ? I can feel the sun 
 where I'm settin'. My poor, dear 'usband was allays one for 
 letting in the sun to the very end, he was. He was in the brick- 
 making business, but he wasn't no scollard, dear man,' she rambled 
 on. ' I might have had him now, only he had to go over to Close- 
 borough one day, and he was in a hurry to get back to me, and got 
 caught in that awful storm and couldn't get back nor forwards, and 
 from that moment never had a well moment with the brownchitis, 
 poor thing ! ' 
 
 'Talking o' storms, missus,' said the burly man, 'we'll have 
 one afore we're many hours older, call me a liar if we don't ; been 
 brewing up for it since noon.' 
 
 ' \Vell, things are too far forward to be damaged now, we'll 
 hope,' said Mrs. Parkinjear, not best pleased at the diversion. 
 ' And, as I was telling you, sir, before I was took up, there was my 
 poor son, he was out in New Zealand, gum-digging, and he come 
 home suddenly and walked from the station, meaning to step in 
 unexpected like and have a bit of fun with his poor father, he being 
 so brown and altered, and on the way he meets someone he knows 
 and says, careless like, " Know if father's at home ? " sez he; and 
 they says, " Your mother's downstairs and about again, but your 
 father's dead and buried this three months." And, poor dear boy, 
 he wasn't well for a month after, for he was main fond of his dear 
 father, he was.' 
 
 Allen felt a sudden misgiving what if his father, too, had died 
 in his absence ? But no, these men had mentioned him just now ; 
 Margot had not looked as if any sorrow had happened recently at 
 home ; still, he must try to get some information, though he was 
 conscious of having little skill in extracting it ; he would lead the 
 talk to Margot as well as he could. 
 
 ' You're gay here to-day,' he began awkwardly ; ' quite a fair 
 going on, I see.' 
 
 ' It's their club-day here, you see, and that wakes things up a 
 little. AVhy ain't you with 'em, Garge ? ' 
 
 ' B'long to the 'And-in-'And,' explained Garge gruffly. ' Our 
 club-day was July. We 'ad the ridgmental band over from Close- 
 borough to it, and there was a deal more swing-boats and merry-go- 
 rounds than what there is to-day.' 
 
 'Ah,' sighed Mrs. Parkinjear, 'there'll be fine doings when 
 night comes on. I don't hold with folks making beasts of their- 
 eelves, keeping other folks from their night's rest ; it's tune it was 
 put down, to my thinking.' 
 
 ' Well, I dunno, it ain't a bad thing for your business, y' know ; 
 look at it that way.' 
 
 ' I don't encourage none of that in my bar. This is a respectable 
 house, and I'll keep it so ; if they want to get drunk, they must go 
 over the way."
 
 BUT A LITTLE LONGER 359 
 
 ' Why don't ye send 'im over the way ? ' said Garge with a 
 grin, pointing to the old labourer on the stool. 
 
 ' He's had a drop too much before he come to me, and he don't 
 ought to come here at all, as he knows very well, when he's like 
 this,' said the landlady, raising her voice for the old gentleman's 
 edification not that she produced any impression, as he instantly 
 began to crow and cackle, like an agricultural Mr. Dolls, for a ' lil 
 drop more gin.' 
 
 'It's against my conscience to serve him at all,' said Mrs. 
 Parkinjear austerely ; ' but he'll only go where he'll be worse 
 treated if I don't keep him quiet. Minnie, take my keys out of my 
 pocket ; you can draw Mr. Ricketts a little drop, but it's the last he's 
 to have, mind that ! Don't take any notice of him, sir,' she added 
 to Allen, ' it's the band and the 'oliday and that, that's upset him.' 
 
 ' The band nearly frightened a a young lady's horse just now,' 
 said Allen, taking courage at this opportunity ; ' there was a little 
 girl on a pony with her. Do you know who they are ? ' 
 
 ' Garge, you can tell the gentleman maybe,' said Mrs. Parkin- 
 jear ; ' I can't see no 'orses nowadays, no, nor yet no ponies, ah, dear ! ' 
 
 ' A young lady on a 'orse ? ' said Garge stolidly, ' there's a 
 many young ladies as rides their 'orses about 'ere.' 
 
 'Likely it 'ud be Miss 'Otham from 'Awleigh Court,' suggested 
 his friend ; ' I've seen her over here times. Or did ye say there 
 was a little gal on a pony ; pooty little gal ? long 'air ? It'll be 
 Muster Chadwick's darters, sure 'nough. Yes, that's 'oo it'll be.' 
 
 ' They ain't his darters, on'y his darters-in-law, in a manner o' 
 speaking,' corrected the opinionated man, ' I 'card Draper Spufford 
 tellin' somebody so t'other day.' 
 
 ' And Draper Spufford spoke no more than the truth then ! ' 
 put in the landlady. ' I mind their coming here two years last 
 Easter, was it? somewhere about that, I know. Mr. Chadwick 
 hadn't only just been married to those gells' mother. Yes, Jim, 
 you're right. It was Miss Chevening the gentleman saw. I might 
 have known it was.' 
 
 ' Then hadn't this Mr. Chadwick any family of his own ? ' 
 asked Allen in a thick voice. 
 
 ' He hadn't only but one son as I ever heard on, and, from all 
 accounts, he wasn't sorry to see his back. Not as there was ever 
 much harm in the young man, from all I could learn ; he was more 
 silly -like than downright bad; he used to be about with young 
 Bob Barchard who was a reg'lar bad lot, and went and 'listed for a 
 soldier since, and I don't envy the Queen her bargain ! ' 
 
 ' But the son do you know what became of him ? ' 
 
 'It isn't rightly known where he is now; he went out to 
 America, or some outlandish place like that, and he done some- 
 thing out there that his father wouldn't put up with nohow, for 
 their coachman, Mr. Topham, and a very nice civil-spoken man he 
 is too, was saying in this very room how it was as much now 
 as their place was worth, any of 'em, to mention Mr. Allen (that
 
 860 THE PARIAH 
 
 was the young man's name, sir) to his father. " He's no son o* 
 mine," said Mr. Chadwick ; " if he comes back here, I'll have the 
 door shut in his face. Mind that ! " he says. And the curious 
 part of it is, sir, if you'll believe me, that the old gentleman this 
 one's father turned Ms son out o' doors too. It shows how these 
 things runs in families, don't it ? ' 
 
 ' I suppose,' said Allen, ' you don't happen to know you didn't 
 hear whether the the young lady took his part at all ? ' 
 
 ' That I'm sure I can't tell you, sir, but from what I did hear, it 
 wouldn't be likely any of them would interfere ; they're not his 
 blood, you see, and besides, they none of them took to him when he 
 was living in the same house, and I dessay, if the truth was known, 
 they weren't sorry when he took himself off and wasn't likely to 
 trouble them no more. And in course all Mr. Chadwick's money 
 'ull go to them now 1 ' 
 
 ' Ah ! ' said Allen, ' it's that way, is it ? But she the eldest 
 one, I mean didn't look the sort of girl to care about the money.' 
 ' I'm a poor blind old lady now, sir, and I can't tell. I've heard 
 she's a sweet pretty face of her own, though proud and high in her 
 ways, but she's been here with Miss Millicent, the Vicar's daughter, 
 once or twice and spoke as pleasant and kind as you please, with a 
 voice that did my 'eart good to listen to. But you can't tell what 
 she had to put up with from such a step-brother as he was. Like 
 enough she'd reason to be ashamed of him, and not want him 
 back. 1 
 
 ' Yes,' said Allen heavily, ' like enough. And is his father 
 living here now ? ' 
 
 ' He was a day or two ago, I know. He lives there most of his 
 time ; he ain't at all liked in these parts don't get on with the 
 gentry, so they say, and I 'eard he'd been seen driving about that 
 drunk he couldn't 'ardly keep hold on the reins, and that in broad 
 daylight ! ' 
 
 ' I see him the other day,' said Jim. ' It was knock-off time 
 with me, and I was coming home down Piper's Lane when he druv' 
 by. I thart I'd ha' bin run over the way he was going, first one 
 side, then t'other, and a-larrupin' with his whip ; " Damn your 
 eyes, stand out o' my way I " sez he. And I did, pretty sharp too. 
 He wur drunk then fast enough.' 
 
 Allen had heard as much as he could bear by this time ; he 
 paid his reckoning and went out of the inn into the dazzling street. 
 So his conjectures were only too true; his father had cast him off; 
 the servants had orders to shut the doors against him 1 He had 
 meant to go round by the back entrance to Agra House, and try to 
 get someone to carry a message to Margot for him but now he 
 was afraid. 
 
 Still, he wandered up towards the house, half hoping that he 
 might see Margot herself ; he came to the well -remembered gates, 
 with their pretentious stone pillars and glittering gas-lamps ; no one 
 \vas at the lodge, but he did not go in, he skirted the palings of the
 
 BUT A LITTLE LONGER 861 
 
 plantation for some distance till he came to a point whence he 
 could command a distant glimpse of the house and lawn. Perhaps 
 Margot might be sitting or walking there alone ? As he drew 
 nearer he heard the faint ring of girls' laughter and voices from the 
 tennis-court, where the game was being played in defiance of the 
 sultry heat. There were four of them playing two spectators, 
 a girl and a child was it Lettice ? sat in wicker chairs in the 
 shade and the tallest of the players, the one in the white tunic 
 over a dark-blue skirt, that must be Margot herself ! He stood 
 there, straining his eyes with a yearning attempt to see her more 
 distinctly still, till presently the players changed sides, and she was 
 screened from him by a clump of young firs, though now and then 
 he caught the clear gay tones of her voice. 
 
 He turned away with a heavy heart ; she seemed so happy, so 
 completely to have forgotten and besides, it was hopeless to think 
 of trying to approach her just then. Just then ! How did he 
 know that he might not have to go back with his purpose un- 
 executed after all ? 
 
 But it appeared that fortune did not intend to be so cruel as 
 this, for, as he went slowly with bent head down the lane, still 
 pursued by those happy voices, he saw a trim, smartly dressed form 
 advancing towards him it was Susan ! Here was hope at least, 
 for surely she would befriend him. 
 
 ' Susan,' he cried eagerly, ' Susan ! ' 
 
 ' Upon my word, young man ! ' said the girl, ' who gave you 
 leave to make so free with my name ? I'm not Susan to the likes 
 of you, I can promise you ! ' 
 
 'Don't you know me, Susan? Won't you stop and speak to 
 me?' 
 
 ' Mercy on us 1 ' she cried, ' if it isn't Mr. 1 So you're 
 
 come back, are you ? ' 
 
 ' Yes,' he said humbly, ' I've come back.' 
 
 'Wherever you've been, you don't seem to have made your 
 fortune there, judging by appearances,' she remarked; 'you are 
 a pretty scarecrow, I must say. And what do you mean to do now 
 you are back ? ' 
 
 'I I don't know yet. Is is the governor dead-set against 
 me, Susan ? ' 
 
 'You'd better not let him ketch sight of you, I can tell you 
 that partickler when he's like he mostly is just now ! But, 
 luckily for you, he's away for a day or two at present off on 
 the spree, I shouldn't wonder, and small blame to him, with missua 
 away constant I ' 
 
 ' Is she away now, then ? ' 
 
 ' Away at a place called 'Umbug and the proper place for her, 
 I say ! She, and Miss Ida, and the young gentleman. There's 
 only Miss Margot and Miss Lettico at home just now. If I was 
 you, I'd walk straight in and say I'd come back and meant to 
 stop and then let your father turn you out if he could ! '
 
 862 THE PARIAH 
 
 ' I can't do that, Susan not till I've seen her.' 
 
 ' Which her ? Miss Lettice ? You'll see enough of her after 
 she's everywhere, she is, and that spoilt, with no one being allowed 
 to say a word to her, I've no patience with it. But I'm not her 
 nurse, oh dear no ! I'm only her maid, and have to put up with 
 all her tantrums ! ' 
 
 'It's not Lettice I want; it's it's Margot. I must see her, 
 Susan, before before I can come back.' 
 
 ' Can't you come back without her leave and licence ? But I 
 remember now didn't you go away at first to please her ladyship ? 
 Well, you won't find you please her so much by coming back, it's 
 my belief.' 
 
 ' What do you know about it ? She will help me she must ! ' 
 
 ' Must ? ' said Susan ; ' you talk pretty big. One would think 
 you had a reason for it.' 
 
 Allen was a little alarmed at having let the word slip out. ' I 
 I didn't mean it that way,' he said ; ' never mind that. Look here, 
 Susan, I've not much time to spare that is, unless unless it all 
 goes right. And for that I must see her, and privately, and I want 
 you to help me. You will, Susan, won't you ? I'll make it worth 
 your while some day, if I can't now.' 
 
 ' Much use it is helping you ! I've tried that before, and much 
 thanks I got for it. But I'll try once more. You be at let me 
 see at the round summer-house, down by the lane there, by half- 
 past nine to-night, and I'll engage she shall come out to you.' 
 
 ' What shall you teU her ? ' 
 
 ' Never you mind ; but she'll come, and you take my advice, 
 don't you stand no nonsense from her. Show her you're master, 
 and if she's not acted true to you, don't have no mercy on her, for 
 she don't deserve it.' 
 
 ' What do you mean ? ' he asked. ' What do you know ? ' 
 
 'Me? I don't mean nothing. If she hasn't been making a 
 fool of you, she hasn't, and that's all about it. Anyway, you can 
 settle that between you this evening; and now I can't dawdle 
 here talking any longer, I'm going down to the village for a bit. I've 
 little enough time I can call my own. As for you you'd better 
 keep out of the way till you're wanted. Take a walk, I should, 
 away from everybody, where you won't be noticed. And by the 
 time you're back, she'll be there waiting for you don't you worry 
 yourself about that.' 
 
 Susan tripped off down the lane towards the village, humming. 
 1 I've put a spoke in Miss Margot's wheel, this time ! ' she was 
 reflecting. ' I'd give a month's wages to see her face when she 
 comes out and finds it's him \ She'd sooner see him dead than 
 back, I'll go bail. Unless I'm very much mistaken, he's got some 
 hold over her. I only hope he's the pluck to use it. And if he 
 does, and gets taken back, why, then he's soft enough for me to 
 catch him yet if I come round him gradual. Ought I to have told 
 him as she was carrying on with that Orme ? No, he might have
 
 BUT A LITTLE LONGEE 363 
 
 give it all up and gone away then. She may tell him that her- 
 self ! ' 
 
 Susan's idea of the situation was far enough from the truth, 
 but she guessed that Allen had the power of maMng her young 
 mistress exceedingly uncomfortable, an end which independently 
 of her own private interest in Allen's return to his family she wae 
 willing to promote to the best of her ability. 
 
 Allen had some hours to kill before his interview with Margot, 
 and acted upon Susan's advice in keeping out of the way for the 
 present. He struck a smaller lane which led him to a road below, 
 and then toiled up a dusty road to a hill where he knew of a foot- 
 path which would take him to Bramley Common. 
 
 His heart was still heavy, though there was now a limit fixed 
 for this suspense, but, as he walked on in the sultry afternoon 
 heat, he was lulled into a vague content. He had never been very 
 sensitive to Nature, but now, whether the undulating valleys and 
 stupendous mountain ranges of Southern India or the arid 
 monotony of London had taught him to be more appreciative, he 
 was soothed and comforted by the peaceful English surroundings, 
 the plain below with its patches of bright yellow, green and choco- 
 late, the deep blue hills beyond, seen through quivering haze, the 
 clumps of gorse, their gold now tarnished, the chirp of the grass- 
 hoppers, and the warm scent of the bracken. 
 
 And he went on up the steep track and over the common, till he 
 came to the little church outside which he had stood in the darkness 
 that memorable Sunday night. He unpinned the wooden gate and 
 went to the porch ; the door stood open, arid he entered and sat 
 down in the first pew. Outside, there was a view of the church- 
 yard with its grey orange-spotted tombs, and small conical yews, 
 and beyond, up the slope of green and gold meadow-land red cattle 
 were grazing in the sunshine. Inside it was still and cool and 
 solemn ; the sills of the deep Norman windows and the edges of 
 the pews were stained with brilliant patches of colour from the 
 painted glass ; the clock in the tower above ticked loudly in the 
 silence ; someone had put some lilies, gladiolus, and sweet peas in 
 the vases on the altar. 
 
 He sat there, at first thinking only how good was this absolute 
 rest and shade after the weariness and heat. Gradually the place 
 began to exercise an influence over him ; over the porch he had 
 read in faded red letters, ' This is none other than the House of 
 God.' Allen was neither religious nor irreligious ; it was rather a 
 superstitious instinct that came over him just then. If he were to 
 pray now, here might he not have a chance of being heard ? He 
 knelt down on the narrow footstool in the pew, and for a moment 
 his ideas left him. He remembered no prayer, he could think of 
 no words. On the ledge in front was a tattered old prayer-book 
 would not that help him ? It fell open mechanically at the place 
 for morning prayer, and his eye fell on the General Confession. 
 1 Erred and strayed like lost sheep ' . . . ' Spare thou them, O
 
 364 THE PAEiAH 
 
 God, which confess their faults. Eestore thou them that are 
 penitent.' He took the phrase literally, without attaching any 
 spiritual meaning to it ; ' restore ' for him meant restoration to 
 home, love, character, all that made his life ; but that did not 
 affect the fervour and humility with which he repeated the words 
 aloud, half alarmed by the sound of his own voice in the stillness. 
 Then, before he rose, he added, with an odd feeling that he must 
 make the most he could of this opportunity, ' And, O God, make 
 her kind to me ; make her ready to tell everything, Amen." 
 
 Then he rose and came out of the church, feeling strangely re- 
 lieved, sure, indeed, that now all would be well with him. The 
 afternoon was drawing into evening, the sun was sinking in a 
 coppery veil, the white dust on the road was tinged with pink, but 
 the air was closer and heavier than ever, even on the common in 
 the open. 
 
 He was worn out, and threw himself down on the rusty bracken, 
 where he soon fell dreamlessly asleep. When he awoke, the moon 
 had risen over the firs, and a few stars shone overhead; in the 
 west, a sullen mass of clouds was rising like a towered and battle- 
 mented wall, a ' looming bastion fringed with fire.' He sat there 
 a \\hile, confused and languid, and then he remembered where he 
 was and what he had to do. Was luck against him even now ? 
 Was he too late ? He was seized with a horrible fear that this was 
 so, when the clock in the church at the edge of the common struck. 
 He counted the strokes with bated breath : seven, eight, nine 
 thank God ! no more, unless he had mistaken. A clock, distant 
 but still audible, struck down in the valley no, it was nine. 
 There was time to get to the garden and meet Margot yet at the 
 appointed hour, if he made haste. 
 
 He hurried back feverishly, clambering down the dim grey path, 
 swinging through the lanes under the interlacing willows and 
 sycamores, where it was difficult to find air enough to breathe, run- 
 ning madly along the road, till he was close once more to the lane 
 where he had met Susan and need hurry no more. 
 
 And then he trembled with expectation ; his dream his dream 
 was already close on its fulfilment, he would see her face to face 
 once more, hold her hand, hear her voice. That night he might 
 sleep under the old roof to-morrow he need not go back to the 
 hard cheerless toil of his London life ! Yet he lingered before he 
 could make up his mind to pass the little rustic gate, the old fear 
 had returned upon him. As he stood there, breathing hard after 
 his running, the hot air was stirred and chilled by a sudden breeze, 
 and the chill seemed to fall on his heart. If she refused to speak 
 if she really did hate him ? Ah, no she could not hate him 
 not after all she knew, he need not fear that. 
 
 Still he stood there in the moonlight, till Gorsecombe Church 
 clock struck the two quarters, and then he went in and along the 
 well-remembered paths to the stone summer-house, a somewhat 
 barbaric record of his grandfather's Arcadian ideals.
 
 BUT A LITTLE LONGER 3G5 
 
 He waited, listening eagerly for Margot's step on the gravel ; all 
 he heard was the harsh discordance of the organs in the fair down 
 below, and then that faint rustling sweep over the grass, the light 
 eager footfall. She was coming she was coming at last ! He 
 felt comforted, reassured by this eagerness of hers, and filled with 
 a hope too wondrous, too splendid for belief, he rose and went to 
 meet her. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 UNDECEIVED. 
 
 Doch du driingst mich selbst von hinnen, 
 Bittre Worte spricht dein Mund ; 
 "Wahnsinn wiihlt in meinen Sinnen 
 Und mein Herz 1st krank und wund. Heine. 
 
 ALLEN must have been slow indeed of perception if the startled 
 surprise, the shade of embarrassment in Margot's manner had 
 escaped him as she stood there, her eyes looking large, dark, and 
 mysterious under the light shawl, her arms and neck gleaming fair 
 in the moonlight. He thought the change in her manner was 
 caused by his own altered appearance, and grew abashed and con- 
 scious again at the impression he felt he produced. 
 
 ' It's me, Margot,' he said, ' Allen. Don't be frightened.' 
 
 The beautiful mouth curled a little. ' I am not frightened,' she 
 said, ' but but why did you play me such a trick as this ? ' 
 
 ' I thought Susan would have told you I was here,' he said. 
 ' Didn't you know who wanted to see you ? ' 
 
 ' Susan never mentioned your name. I thought never mind 
 what I thought now. So you have come back, Allen ? I always 
 knew you would come back but not like this.' 
 
 She did not hold out her hand nor smile, she stood there, 
 looking at him with scarcely an effort to mask her displeasure. 
 Was this the welcome he had dreamed of? 
 
 ' I I couldn't help coming back,' he said awkwardly. ' I 
 thought you wouldn't mind, I know I'm not much to look at.' 
 
 ' I was not thinking of your appearance,' she said, with a touch 
 of shame. ' It is your sending for me like this that I don't quite 
 understand. Why did you ? ' 
 
 ' Because oh Margot, can't you guess, can't you see ? I can't 
 stand the life I've been living any longer. Why should I, when 
 there's a home I can go to ? I want to come back I've been in 
 disgrace long enough ! ' 
 
 ' What is the use of saying that to me, Allen ? Your father ia 
 the only person who can allow you to come back.' 
 
 ' And if I went to him what would he do ? Send me about my 
 business. That's why I came to you first.'
 
 866 THE PARIAH 
 
 She was silent for a moment, thinking. Then she said, 'It 
 would certainly be useless for you to try to see him ; he is not 
 oven at home just now, and and he is terribly angry with you. I 
 doubt whether he will listen to anything you might say.' 
 
 ' He will listen to you ! ' he urged eagerly. ' Margot, you wouldn't 
 speak up for me before. I know I know, you couldn't; but it 
 isn't the same now, you must see it isn't. Will you speak to him 
 now will you, Margot ? ' 
 
 ' Listen, Allen,' she said with a cold gentleness, ' will you pro- 
 mise me to go back to wherever you are living now, and wait 
 patiently a little longer only a little longer ? If you will, I will 
 do what I can for you ; but if you stay here or attempt to act for 
 yourself, you will ruin all your chances, remember that.' 
 
 He could have fallen down and worshipped her in the enthusiasm 
 of his gratitude. ' I knew you'd help me ! ' he cried ; ' I knew you 
 wouldn't leave a poor devil out in the cold when a word from 
 
 you . Oh, I will wait as long as you please I know you will 
 
 make it as short as you can I will do anything you tell me, if only 
 I come back at the end. God bless you, Margot ! ' 
 
 He seized her hand and was covering it with kisses. ' Don't ! ' 
 she said, shrinking fastidiously from this uncouth fervour. ' Don't 
 touch me, Allen ! There is nothing to thank me for as yet. I 
 have promised to help you, and and I will. Now write down for 
 me where you are living, so that I can send for you when it is safe 
 to do so, and then you must go away.' 
 
 There was a small stone table in the summer-house behind 
 them, and she stood by him there as he scribbled the address in 
 pencil on a scrap of paper. ' That's where I live,' he said. ' I wish 
 you could see it, Margot ; you wouldn't leave me there longer than 
 you could help, I know, if you did.' 
 
 She took the paper gravely and put it in her dress, ' Allen,' she 
 said, ' you you must not deceive yourself. Your father is very 
 strange now very violent he may refuse to forgive you.' 
 
 ' Forgive me ! ' he said ; ' what for? when he knows all about it.' 
 
 ' You know best whether he has much to forgive ; but I should 
 have thought that after running away as you did . . . and and 
 was there not some money he had trusted you with ? ' 
 
 ' I ran away because I was not going to be under a man who'd 
 been told I was a a thief. And the money was mine the governor 
 gave it to me I had a right to spend it how I chose. I thought I 
 was going to make my fortune with it. I very nearly did, too but 
 that's a long story. Anyway, he'll forgive me all that, Margot ; 
 he'll say I couldn't have acted any other way, when you tell hin? 
 how it was I came to take that locket.' 
 
 ' You know very well I cannot tell him that ! ' she cried indig- 
 nantly. 
 
 Allen rose and looked her straight in the face. 
 
 ' Perhaps you won't mind saying what it is you will tell him ? ' 
 he said sullenly.
 
 UNDECEIVED 367 
 
 ' I shall tell him that you have been unfortunate, that you have 
 suffered, and borne hardship all this time, that you are sorry and 
 will never disgrace him again, that it is time to forgive. What 
 more can I say ? ' 
 
 'And you think I'll be taken back as a favour? ' he asked; 
 ' come home to be spoken at, and watched, and treated as if I was 
 ft downright bad lot ; have everybody told all about how I'd been 
 allowed home, though, if I'd had my deserts, I ought to have been 
 left to die in the gutter ? No, by God ! I've had enough of that the 
 last time. It's not me that has to be forgiven most ! ' 
 
 She shrank back from his hot breath as he placed his face close 
 to hers ; there was a look of his father in it just then, distorted as 
 it was with fierce passion, which made her afraid of Allen for the 
 first time. 
 
 He saw this. ' I've frightened you now, at all events,' he said. 
 ' So you nearly made a fool of me again nearly, but not quite ! I 
 thought you meant to tell all and take the consequences, whatever 
 they are they can't be worse for you than me. And it seems you 
 mean to hold your tongue still ! ' 
 
 He felt a savage pleasure in the sight of her beautiful startled 
 face, with the dawning terror in the eyes that had been so proud 
 a minute before. 
 
 ' What do you want me to tell ? ' she asked faintly. 
 
 ' Everything,' he said. ' How you wrote to me from Bourne- 
 mouth, where you were, asking me to get that locket and sell it and 
 send you the money ; how I was caught taking it, and said nothing 
 sooner than get you in a row, and how you came home and kept 
 quiet and made me keep quiet too.' 
 
 ' I made you keep quiet ? ' she cried. ' How could I prevent 
 you from telling any story you chose ? ' 
 
 ' Oh, you were clever enough ! ' he said. ' You kept out of my 
 way as much as you could, and you knew better than to ask me to 
 hold my tongue in so many words ; but you managed to make me 
 understand for all that. And I was true to you you know I was ! 
 Not many chaps would have done what I did, when the very 
 thought of going out to that beastly plantation sickened me, and 
 I'd only to say a word. But I didn't. I wasn't going to have you 
 despising me ; I meant to show you that I could act like a gentle- 
 man better than some gentlemen if I liked. I thought you'd 
 make it up to me some day ; and just now it seemed as if you 
 would. And you meant me to go on bearing it ! It's too much 
 I've been your catspaw all this time ; I might have gone on longer 
 if you'd given me so much as a kind word anything to show you 
 were commonly thankful. But you stand there looking at me as 
 cool as if I was no account to such as you, and I'm tired of it I 
 tell you I'm tired of it. The governor and I used to be good friends 
 enough once, when we were alone together. He'd be friendly now, 
 directly he knew I wasn't the blackguard I was made out to be. 
 And why shouldn't he know ? He shall know ! '
 
 368 THE PARIAH 
 
 She was trembling a little, but she made an effort to be con- 
 temptuous. ' It will not be very wise of you to go to him with 
 such a story as that,' she said; 'he would not believe it without 
 some other evidence than yours. And if I was questioned I should 
 deny it do you hear ? I can tell him that it is all false, that you 
 have imagined it, invented it while you have been away. I never 
 wrote such a letter, I never obliged you to keep silence it is all a 
 lie, a lie from beginning to end ! ' 
 
 She compelled him to involuntary admiration, so superbly 
 lovely did she look in her desperate refusal to yield. ' I believe you 
 would,' he said slowly ; ' and you would make him believe you, too, 
 if you spoke like that. Margot, you're a devil a beautiful cruel 
 devil ! It's lucky for me that I haven't only my word to go upon.' 
 
 ' What do you mean ? ' she said hoarsely. 
 
 'Why, I kept your letter. I've got it with me at this very 
 moment.' 
 
 ' You kept it kept the letter ? You think I shall believe that ? 
 Show it to me I dare you to show it to me.' 
 
 ' It's very likely I should trust it in your hands now, 1 he said. 
 
 ' You pretend to think it would not be safe with me ! ' she cried 
 in bitter scorn. ' What a pitiful excuse to make ! But I know 
 why you make it I am not afraid of that letter ; it is only another 
 lie 1 I have heard quite enough I shall have no more to do with 
 you, Allen. If you are mad enough to tell this this impossible tale, 
 do so, and take the consequences ! ' 
 
 ' Take care what you're doing ! ' he said ; ' don't drive me too 
 far. You know very well I'm no liar, whatever other people may 
 be. Look here, Margot, I dare say I'm a fool to trust you, but if 
 you'll swear to me to let me have it back, I'll show you that letter, 
 and then you'll see it's no good holding out any longer.' 
 
 ' My word is enough,' she said proudly, and held out her hand 
 in imperious demand. ' If you really have it, give it to me.' 
 
 It was strange, but though he knew how vital the possession of 
 that letter was to both of them, he never thought of resisting her. 
 He did not even exact a more express promise ; it was difficult for 
 him even then to believe her capable of so mean a treachery. He 
 took out a worn leather case from an inner pocket, extracted a 
 paper, soiled and yellow by frequent perusals, and gave it into her 
 hands. 
 
 The moon was bright enough for it to be possible to read even 
 that faded ink with a little trouble. Margot stepped out upon the 
 path and read, Allen watching her face meanwhile. 
 
 When she came to the end she shivered ; a terrible temptation 
 was assailing her. ' You were asked to destroy this,' she said in a 
 low tremulous voice. ' Why didn't you ? ' 
 
 ' It was worth too much to me for that,' he answered. How 
 often, when his fortunes were at their worst, his spirits at their 
 lowest, had the sight of that letter been a talisman to him, re- 
 minding him, as it did, that even his life had held one bright 
 episode !
 
 UNDECEIVED 869 
 
 * / ' This is my letter,' she said ; ' you admit that yourself. What 
 is to prevent me from destroying it ? ' 
 
 ' Nothing,' he said, ' if your word doesn't. Yes, I was a fool to 
 trust you, after all ! ' 
 
 She thrust it back into his hand as if the paper scorched her. 
 1 Take it,' she said, ' or or I might forget I don't know. . . . Take 
 it, and use it against me against us all. That is why you have 
 kept it all this time, why you were silent when you might have 
 spoken 1 You wished to make your claim as heavy as possible ; 
 you knew that every day you were away and every hardship you 
 endured only gave you a greater hold upon me. And now you have 
 come back to turn the tables ! It is just just enough, I suppose ; 
 but you might have spared the form of consulting me ! ' 
 
 He turned away his face for a moment. ' I think you'll drive 
 me mad, Margot,' he cried in his pain. ' God knows I never kept 
 it for for that ! I kept it because it was the only thing I had that 
 came from j'ou. I've been bad enough, but I should have been 
 worse if it wasn't for having it. And you think it was that I I 
 came here meaning to put it to you, whether I hadn't been pun- 
 ished enough for your fault. I thought you'd see it was fair now 
 that I should be cleared, and the blame put on the right shoulders. 
 I thought, when you saw what I was, you'd feel a bit sorry and 
 willing to make it up to me like. But I no more meant to threaten 
 or or do anything against your wishes than than that moon 
 there. It was you that forced me to say what I did. When I 
 heard you talk as if you'd forgotten, and didn't mean to remember 
 all that was, and promising as a great favour to ask the governor 
 to forgive me for what I never did, why, it wasn't in nature that I 
 shouldn't speak plain ! Is it so much, I ask you, to speak the truth 
 now and have justice done to me ? I'm so miserable, Margot 
 miserable and lonely, and sick of it all ; no one to care a damn 
 whether I'm ill or well, alive or dead ! And coming back like this, 
 and seeing the old place, and you again, oh ! it isn't wonderful I 
 can't feel as if I could stay away for ever though I won't be for- 
 given out of favour ; no, I'd sooner go back and drudge till I died 
 than that ! But you can clear me, if you only will.' 
 
 ' You must clear yourself,' she said in the same low voice. ' I 
 cannot go to your father with such a confession as that. At least 
 I will not there ! You have your character in your own hands, 
 and it is for you to speak not me.' 
 
 ' You treat me like the dirt,' he said ; ' you always did. You'd 
 sooner be cut in pieces than be humble now, even when you're 
 worsted. Well, if I'm treated as dirt, I'll behave like it ; I shan't 
 get less credit for it. I will clear my character there ! I will 
 come back and take my place among you all, whether you like it 
 or not.' 
 
 ' Yes, you will come back,' she said ; ' you will take your place 
 Bgain but not amongst us. We shall at least be spared that ! ' 
 
 ' Not amongst you ? ' he repeated. ' How do you mean ? ' 
 
 B B
 
 370 THE PARIAH 
 
 ' If you really don't understand -what the effect of this will be, 1 
 will tell you. You don't know what your father has been of lato. 
 He hates us yes, I believe he hates us all in his heart. He feels 
 that we are a restraint upon him ; he would be only too glad of an 
 excuse for ridding himself of us all all ! And if if this story is 
 proved true,, he will make no distinctions ; he will declare it was a 
 plot a plot to ruin you ; he will say that wo were all guilty alike. 
 We shall be disgraced turned out of the house ! ' 
 
 ' No, you will not ; I will take care of that, Margot. He shall 
 not-mirt you.' 
 
 ' You you ! "What influence did you ever have with him when 
 you were at home ? And now, you will have difficulty enough in 
 making your own peace. But ours no, you will not be able to 
 save us. And even if he listened to you, if he condescended to 
 keep us, do you think I would stay, whatever the the others did ? 
 Why, rather than live here when that was known and talked about 
 everywhere, as it would be your father will not spare us, I know 
 rather than do that, I would go anywhere, bear anything in the 
 world. If you are expecting that all will go on exactly as it did 
 before, you make a mistake, and it is as well that you should under- 
 stand that at once ! ' 
 
 There was no violence in her manner ; she spoke with a re- 
 pressed, concentrated scorn shrivelling as an acid, only the heaving 
 of her breast and the trembling she could not control betrayed the 
 white heat of passion that consumed her. 
 
 His heart swelled at her injustice, her ungrateful, unreasonable- 
 ness. ' Ah,' he said bitterly, ' you can't find words hard enough for 
 rne 1 Do you suppose I don't know, without that, how you despise 
 me, and hate the very sight of me ? And yet, tell me this what 
 have I ever done to you to deserve to be treated like this ? Was it 
 my doing that I was sent away ? Isn't it natural that I should 
 want to be taken back after all this time ? ' 
 
 She had sunk down on the bench, and was covering her face 
 with a low moan ; she made a writhing movement of pain at the 
 last speech of his, and then raised her head as she replied hope- 
 lessly 
 
 ' Natural ? Oh, yes, it is perfectly natural. It is I that am 
 tmnatural, I suppose. I I can't help it. You must come back, it 
 must all be told it is justice, I admit all that anything you 
 choose, but I cannot be expected to to welcome you, can I ? Oh, 
 what a mean, miserable business it all is, and no escape, no excuse. 
 If I had known if I had known ! ' 
 
 She sat there, swaying under her burden of crushing shame, and 
 be sat at some distance from her, awed by the sight of this dumb 
 misery, trying to persuade himself that he could not be rightly held 
 to blame for it, and yet with an ever-growing self-reproach. Soma 
 might have found a sweetness in the spectacle of such humiliation, 
 Allen only had an uneasy sense of being somehow in the wrong. T
 
 TTNDECEIVED 371 
 
 Suddenly Margot started : ' There is some one in the garden 
 on the lawn,' she exclaimed in a whisper. ' Look ! ' 
 
 From where they sat they could see the grey tennis-court in- 
 dented by deep black shadows, and there, past the lowered tennis- 
 net, a small figure was flitting noiselessly across. 
 
 ' It's Lettice ! ' cried Margot ; ' she must not see you here come 
 into the shadow, quick ! I will go to her, and send her in. Stay 
 where you are till I come back ! ' 
 
 ' No,' he said ; ' let me see her let me speak to her, Margot. 
 She she used to like me once ! ' 
 
 ; Why should you see her ? Do you want to make her as 
 miserable as you have made me ? Let her be for to-night, poor 
 child she will know soon enotigh ! ' 
 
 He dropped back cowed at this, and Margot went to Lettice. 
 ' I've found them,' cried Lettice. ' I knew I'd left them there.' 
 
 ' You know \o\i ought not to be running about the garden so 
 late as this,' said Margot ; ' Susan should not have allowed it ! ' 
 
 ' Susan never came to me to-night, and I was just putting my- 
 self to bed when it suddenly struck me that I never gave Pussio 
 Eddlestone back her bangles. It was at tennis this afternoon, and 
 she took them off while she was playing and asked me to take care 
 of them for her. So I hung them on a branch out of the way, and 
 somehow I forgot all about them till just now wasn't it funny of 
 me ? But there they were, just where I left them, and they haven't 
 got rusted or anything, Margot, look.' 
 
 And Lettice held out two silver bangles adorned with foolish 
 little dangling nuts. Margot felt a bewildering sensation of strange- 
 ness. Pussie Eddlestone the tennis party, only that afternoon 
 how far away it all seemed ! 
 
 She tried to speak as usual, but her voice shook. 'You shouldn't 
 be so careless, dear, and and it is late ; now you have found them 
 go in, go in at once ! ' 
 
 ' What is the matter, Margot ? ' Lettice asked quickly. ' Your 
 hands are quite cold, and oh, how they are trembling ! Was it you 
 I heard talking to somebody just now ? I did hear talking, I'm 
 sure. Who is here ? ' 
 
 ' Xo one no one,' said Margot hastily. ' Go back to your room, 
 Lettie.' 
 
 ' Now I'm sure somebody is here for you've been crying, 
 Margot ! ' Then Lettice caught Margot's arm impulsively. ' I 
 know what it is,' she cried ; ' Allen has come back he is in that 
 place over there. I shall go to him.' 
 
 ' No, Lettice, I forbid you do you hear ? ' 
 
 But Lettice WAS already skimming over the moonlit lawn in the 
 direction of the summer-house, and would listen to no commands 
 to return. Margot was constrained to follow ; she was powerless 
 now after all, it mattered so very little ! 
 
 As she came near, she heard Lettice's eager greeting : ' Oh, Allen, 
 
 B B 2
 
 372 HE PARIAfi 
 
 Allen, you have come back! I knew you wouldn't stay away 
 always, I am so glad ! ' 
 
 When Margot reached them, Lettice was scrutinising Allen aa 
 he sat there with her hands laid on his shoulders. ' I wasn't sure 
 it was you, quite at first,' she was saying. ' You look so tired and 
 shabby, and sorry, Allen, dear ! ' 
 
 ' I'm all that, Lettie,' he answered. 
 
 ' I suppose that's why Margot was crying so ? ' 
 
 ' Was it ? ' he said grimly. ' I think she was crying on her own 
 account, Lettie, not mine.' 
 
 ' Oh, no not that were you, Margot ? Why should she, you 
 know ? And, now you've come back, Allen, and I'm sure papa 
 will forgive you when he sees how poor you are though he was 
 dreadfully angry at first, oh, dreadfully ! Then you will live here 
 with us, just as you used to, and you won't do anything naughty 
 again, and have to go away again, will you ? ' 
 
 'When Allen comes back,' said Margot, 'it is we who may 
 have to go away, Lettice.' 
 
 ' Why ? We are not naughty, Margot ! Oh, I don't believe 
 that do you, Allen ? You won't want to have us sent away 
 why, you would be all alone, you know ! ' 
 
 ' I can't stand this,' said Allen. ' Lettie, do you see this 
 paper ? ' 
 
 ' Allen ! ' cried Margot quickly, ' you will not tell her you 
 can't do that \ ' 
 
 ' Wait till I have done,' he said roughly. ' Here, take this paper, 
 Lettice, in your two hands so don't look at it. Now tear it across 
 and across, as small as you can that's the style there ! ' 
 
 Margot gave a quick gasping sigh, as she stood spell-bound, 
 while Lettice tore the letter into fragments before her eyes. She 
 could not speak, could not even think, for conflict of her emotions 
 just then. 
 
 'Couldn't you have done that yourself? ' said Lettice, as she 
 let the pieces drift en the stone floor ; ' it was quite easy, Allen 1 ' 
 
 ' Oh, yes,' he said, with a curious laugh, ' easy enough ; but 
 well, I thought I'd rather see you do it, Lettie.' 
 
 'I wish you had told re 9 what it all meant I don't like doing 
 things without knowing in the least what I am doing.' 
 
 ' Can you keep a secret, Lettice ? Yes, I see you can. Very 
 well, promise not to tell anyone you've seen me to-night or or 
 anything, till I give you leave.' 
 
 ' I promise faithfully but you are not going away, not again ? ' 
 
 'Yes I am I must, Lettie.' 
 
 But only for a little while you'll come back Allen, won't 
 you ? ' 
 
 ' Oh, that's all right don't you be alarmed, it's only for a little 
 while now, you've promised, Lettie, remember ! ' 
 
 ' I always keep my word I keep it much more than Reggie 
 does don't I, Margot ? And so long as you're coming back, it
 
 UNDECEIVED 373 
 
 won't be at all hard. Oh, Allen, wouldn't you like to see Yarrow 
 before you go ? He's been so ill, dear doggie, and we thought he 
 would die once, but he got better directly we came back, and I 
 know he'll be glad to see you ! May I go to the stables and get 
 him, Margot ? ' 
 
 Margot could not speak, so Lettice took permission for granted 
 and was off in the direction of the stables. 
 
 ' Margot,' said Allen, when they were alone together, ' I I'd 
 better be off. I can't wait. I've had about as much as I can bear 
 as it is ! ' 
 
 Margot's answer was a burst of passionate sobbing. ' Allen,' 
 she murmured, when the fit had abated somewhat, ' what can I 
 oay ? what can I do ? It is all so wrong I feel so ashamed so 
 ashamed . . . and yet I cannot no, I cannot do anything ! ' 
 
 Poor Allen could do nothing graciously it was not in hia 
 nature. ' You're not asked to do anything," he said, brutally 
 enough only he did not feel brutally. 
 
 ' You must go,' she said wildly, ' it is the only thing but, oh, 
 Allen, I am grateful ! I am indeed . . . and and some day, 
 soon perhaps, if I can, if I only can, I will make it up to you.' 
 
 ' Margot ! ' he cried, ' do you mean that ? Is there a chance 
 of what do I care now ? Nothing that was all I wanted in the 
 world ! ' 
 
 She knew that he had mistaken her meaning, yet she could not 
 bring herself to undeceive him then it would have been too cruel. 
 For the moment she may even have felt capable of that supreme 
 sacrifice under the overwhelming sense of obligation. She did not 
 answer, she even let him seize her hand, though she shrank as 
 much as ever from the mere prospect of being embraced by him. 
 Perhaps he saw that ; at all events, the dreaded embrace was 
 spared her he let her hand fall abruptly, and the next moment 
 she realised that he had gone. Then, with tottering, uncertain 
 steps, she went to intercept Lettice and the collie, trying to invent 
 some story that should satisfy Lettice's mind on Allen's uncere- 
 monious departure. 
 
 But Allen was once more back in his fool's paradise. At last, 
 at last he had touched her heart ! She was no more proud and 
 ungrateful, his final sacrifice had conquered her had she not 
 almost confessed that she might love him in time ? To be loved 
 by Margot what a destiny for a low common fellow like him ! 
 And yet it was true, or it might be true some day. Now he could 
 go back to his drudgery and his solitude with a light heart, he had 
 only to be patient for a while. It was better, far better than living 
 at Agra House, enjoying his father's favour, while Margot was far 
 away, thinking of him, when she thought at all, with scorn and 
 abhorrence. 
 
 So his heart was light as he turned down the familiar road to 
 the village. There the festivities were still in full swing, broad 
 bars of lamplight streamed from all the doors ; there were small
 
 374 THE PARIAH 
 
 sweetstuff and toy booths along the street, their canvas sides 
 illuminated by flaring candles; the tap-rooms of the inns were full, 
 and, on the green, the steam-circus was revolving with a glitter of 
 mirrors, vermilion, and gilding, the riders, old and young, sweep- 
 ing by in grinning delight on their ridiculous steeds amidst a 
 deafening babel of organ-playing, rifle-cracking, and shouting. 
 Hard by were the gipsy-vans, and in the cabin-like interior of one 
 he saw a small child preparing to go to bed. The mellow lamp- 
 light made a glory round her long hair, reminding him of Lettice. 
 He went up to the open casement, with its neat brass rail and 
 muslin curtains, and threw a small piece of silver (he had not 
 many to throw away) at the feet of the astonished child. 
 
 Then he left the village and its unwonted noise and bustle 
 behind him, and went on to the station. It was late, but he 
 thought there might be a train to town about that time ; at all 
 events, he would go and see. He was on the down -platform trying 
 to find a porter to answer his inquiries ; a train had just come in, 
 however, and he had to wait. As he stood there, a young man got 
 out of a compartment and came towards him ; it was Nugent Orme, 
 whose quick eye had recognised Allen, despite all alterations. He 
 came up and laid a hand on his shoulder. ' Chadwick ! ' he cried ; 
 ' so you have come home ? I had no idea you were in the train ! ' 
 
 If Allen could have escaped recognition he would have done so ; 
 he felt too excited and exalted for any companionship just then 
 he wanted to be alone and think of Margot, and how she had looked 
 and spoken just at the last. But Orme had seen him, and he could 
 not deny his identity. 
 
 ' I wasn't in it,' he said ; ' I I was going back to London, sir.' 
 The ' sir ' slipped out unconsciously ; he felt his own inferiority 
 under the gaze of Orme's penetrating but very far from unkindly 
 grey eyes. 
 
 ' You can't go back to-night, you know,' said Orrne ; ' the last 
 train has gone. Come back with me to the Vicarage we can give 
 you a bed for the night.' 
 
 Allen hesitated, but the kindness in the other's tone touched 
 him. ' If if it won't be putting you out of your way, sir,' he said. 
 
 ' Of course it won't ; and look here, Chadwick, you can drop the 
 " sir." I thought that was settled long ago. Come along, then 
 my people will be delighted to see you.' For the life of him he 
 could not say that with quite the full accent of conviction. Allen 
 looked a shabby and disreputable guest to bring into the Vicarage 
 without warning. Orme felt that his mother might protest with 
 some reason. 
 
 However, he could not feel any of the disgust and indignation 
 which had coloured his thoughts of Allen of late. Whatever he 
 had done, and whatever he was, he was in a state now which called 
 only for pity and forbearance. In delicacy, Orme would have 
 spared him even questioning just then, but he felt it important to 
 know how Allen was situated before he could help him effectually.
 
 UNDECEIVED 375 
 
 So as they were going along the dark lane from the station 
 together, he began 
 
 ' When did you eome down here, Chadwick ? ' Allen told him. 
 *And have you seen your father yet ? ' 
 
 ' No he wasn't at home.' 
 
 'But surely you weren't going away without making an attempt 
 to see him ? ' 
 
 ' There'd be no use in my seeing him.' 
 
 ' Then what did you come down for ? ' 
 
 ' That's my business,' said Allen. 
 
 1 Of course it is 1' retorted Nugent rather sharply. ' By all 
 means keep your own counsel if you prefer to, though you might 
 Understand that I don't ask out of idle curiosity.' 
 
 ' I came down to see somebody,' Allen admitted, ' and and 
 I've seen her, and got all I wanted.' 
 
 Orme stopped, his face looked set and stern under the lamp on 
 the footpath. ' If that means that you've been at your old tricks, 
 Chadwick, you had better say so at once, before we go another step 
 together. Have you been trying to annoy Mar Miss Chevening ? 
 ITes or no ? ' 
 
 ' I saw her, it was in the garden,' said Allen doggedly. ' I 
 didn't mean to annoy her.' 
 
 ' Perhaps not ; but whether you meant it or not, what good 
 could it do ? You could only distress her ! If you wish to come 
 home, be a man, Chadwick ; go to your father and speak to him 
 don't skulk about the grounds frightening girls. You can stay at 
 the Vicarage till he returns.' 
 
 ' Orme, I take my oath I never meant to skulk or or frighten 
 her, and you don't understand. I I can't come back. . . . I've 
 done what will prevent me from that ! ' 
 
 ' Did she tell you so ? ' 
 
 1 No she wouldn't have prevented me, only only I didn't want 
 to, that was all.' 
 
 Orme breathed more freely ; for an instant he had been afraid 
 that Margot had been unrelenting to this poor prodigal had turned 
 him from his father's gates. 
 
 'Look here, Chadwick,' he said more kindly, ' no one can help 
 you if you won't help yourself. You must pluck -Tip courage and 
 see your father. I can't believe that he will be hard on you you 
 have paid dearly enough, I'm afraid, for giving way to a moment's 
 temptation.' 
 
 They were walking on now and had reached the first few out- 
 lying houses of the village. 
 
 ' What do you mean when you say that ? ' cried Allen. ' What 
 do you know ? ' 
 
 ' My dear fellow, whatever I know you must not think I am 
 anything but sorry for you just now.' 
 
 ' You said " temptation," ' insisted Allen ' temptation to what ? ' 
 
 1 To dishonesty if you will have an answer.'
 
 376 THE PARIAH 
 
 ' Dp you mean using the money the governor gave me gav 
 me, mind ? ' 
 
 ' I do not mean that, as you know very well. I meant the theft 
 for which you were sent away. What is the use of denying it to 
 me, when I know everything ? ' 
 
 Allen's face worked violently. ' You know you know ! ' he 
 repeated in a strangled voice. ' Orme, for God's sake tell me who 
 told you that ? Was it was it Margot ? ' 
 
 ' If it was,' said Orme, ' we have no secrets from one another, 
 Chadwick we are engaged. It is natural that she should tell me.' 
 
 ' Damn her 1 ' said Allen fiercely. ' So she told you that, -did 
 she? She! God, if I'd known that a little time ago ! Orme, I've 
 
 a good mind to No ; you've heen kind to me and what's the 
 
 use, what does it all matter ? You'll be seeing her to-morrow, I 
 dare say. Well, you tell her from me that I'm a low, common 
 chap, on my road to the devil by the shortest way I can find, but 
 I'd sooner be as I am than what she is that's all. I won't trouble 
 you with my company any longer you're all too moral and strait- 
 laced for the likes of me, I dare say ! ' 
 
 Orme was angry as well. ' If you're bent on going to the devil, 
 go! '.he said; 'I'll not try to prevent you any longer,' and he 
 turned on his heel. By-and-by he thought the other's outburst 
 was due to some crack-brained jealousy, and stopped undecidedly. 
 Had he not been too hard on him ? Was not an imprecation, even 
 against Margot, pardonable under the circumstances ? But Allen 
 was out of sight : black clouds had gathered overhead effacing the 
 moon, and heavy drops were falling in wet stars on the dust. Per- 
 haps this made it easier to abandon Allen's reclamation as hopeless. 
 Nugent turned in at the Vicarage, not, after all, unthankful to be 
 alone. 
 
 The rain came down in sheets soon after he was indoors, and 
 once more he had scruples. However, no doubt Allen had found 
 shelter somewhere, he thought, and he was right. At that moment 
 Allen was in a low pothouse in a back lane of the village, engaged 
 in getting drunk with as much expedition as possible. 
 
 Some hours after the rain was still falling, but he was no longer 
 sheltered from it ; he was lying in drunken torpor under a hedge 
 by the roadside. 
 
 So ended his expedition, and with it all the dreams and hopes 
 that, shadowy as they were, had kept him from falling earlier into 
 brutalising despair.
 
 ON THE VERGE 877 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 ON THE "VERGE. 
 
 tTnsi ihtbar zuckt auch Schmerz urn deinen Mund, 
 Verborgne Thrane triibt des Augcs Schein, 
 Der stolze Busen hegt geheime Wund. Heine. 
 
 ORME awoke next morning to that sense of vague dissatisfaction 
 which most of us have known at some time. He soon traced it to 
 its proper source his conscience was not at ease about his treat- 
 ment of Allen Chadwick. He wished too late that he had refused 
 to let him go ; he had a guilty recollection of being over ready to 
 take him at his word. 
 
 It was this, perhaps, that kept him from mentioning that meet- 
 ing when he came down to breakfast, and impelled him to ease his 
 conscience afterwards by endeavouring to find out whether Allen 
 was still in the village or not. 
 
 If he went to the station he might intercept him yet, and he 
 went to begin his inquiries there. The rain had ceased, it was a 
 grey muggy morning, the muddy roads were strewn with prema- 
 turely fallen leaves, and were beginning to steam in the slowly 
 returning heat. Though it was mid- August still, autumn had given 
 its first warning of decay, the cooled and moistened air was charged 
 with its enervating melancholy. 
 
 Orme kept a sharp look-out as he walked on, but he saw no one 
 resembling Allen on his road to the station. There he found a 
 porter whom he questioned. Yes, the porter had seen a young 
 fellow corresponding to the description ; he had come in early that 
 morning and sat by the fire in the porters' room, it being 
 uncommon cold for the time of year. If the porter was asked his 
 opinion, he would say that the young chap had spent the night out 
 of doors, for he was wet to the skin and muddy ' well, there, he 
 was a mask of it ! But, bless you,' he continued, ' those tramps 
 they think nothing of sleeping out in all weathers sooner than go 
 to a workhouse, sir. This one seemed all stupid like, been on the 
 drink heavy, and laid down in the first ditch as came 'andy. I 
 kep' thinking, too, as I'd seen his face before, and I asked him if 
 he didn't belong to these parts, but he said he didn't belong no- 
 where. And when the 7.40 up come in, he got in and went off by 
 it. I hope you ain't missed nothing up at the Vicarage, sir ? I'd 
 ha' stopped him if I'd known, and had him searched, but he seemed 
 harmless enough.' 
 
 ' No,' said Nugent ; ' it's all right, I noticed him last night and 
 had some talk with him, that was all.' 
 
 Now that he knew that Allen had gone he felt relieved to be 
 thus spared any further responsibility. The fellow was worthless,
 
 ' on his road,' as he had said himself, ' to the devil ' ; it was better, 
 since he would not be stopped, that he should take his shame and 
 degradation elsewhere. This last outbreak of his seemed to justify 
 Orme in his disgust, to remove the sting of his self-reproach. 
 
 He would go and see Margot, and find out from her what pur- 
 pose, if any, Allen had had in seeking her, and what had occurred. 
 She would tell him, of course, of her own accord, and he could 
 relieve her mind of any fear of being again molested by giving her 
 the news of Allen's departure. 
 
 He had to wait a little while before she came down to see him, 
 looking paler than usual. She admitted that she had had n 
 wretched night, the storm had kept her awake what torrents of 
 rain ! and surely there had been some thunder, had not he heard 
 thunder ? Did he get home before it began ? 
 
 She talked fast and nervously, with a forced animation ; he 
 fancied that she avoided meeting his eyes, that she tried to keep 
 the conversation upon indifferent topics. He had meant to leave it 
 to her to make the first mention of Allen's brief reappearance, but, 
 as she showed no intention of doing so, he was driven by a growing 
 impatience to say, ' Has anything happened while I have been 
 away ? ' 
 
 She laughed. ' My dear Nugent ! you forget that you only went 
 away on Monday, the day before yesterday ! I am glad the time 
 seems so long to you, but what should happen in two days and 
 here ? ' 
 
 4 Then you have nothing to tell me about yourself, I mean ? ' 
 
 ' Do you want a full account of all my doings ? I'm afraid it 
 won't be very interesting. On Monday, Miss Momber called, just 
 when I wanted to do my flowers, and in the afternoon I went to 
 tea with the Eddlestone girls. On Tuesday, my step-father went 
 away and he hasn't come back yet. Lettice and I went for a long 
 ride in the morning and played tennis all the afternoon. In the 
 evening well, in the evening it rained, which you know already. 
 That is all, Nugent. Oh, and the benefit club had its festival yester- 
 day, and the band frightened Harebell.' 
 
 He asked no more just then ; he knew from her manner that 
 she had seen and spoken with Allen. She had her reasons for 
 concealing what had passed ; he would not give way again to the old 
 distrust but, oh, why could she not confide in him ? 
 
 And the double consciousness of something withheld produced 
 an embarrassment and constraint between them for the first time 
 since their engagement. 
 
 ' How stupid we both are to-day ! ' exclaimed Margot at last ; ' it 
 is this horrible weather, I suppose the rain has only left the heat 
 worse than it was. Let us go round the garden, Nugent, and see 
 how my poor roses have suffered.' 
 
 They went round together ; the gardener's boy passed wheeling 
 a barrow containing the litter that had been made during the night, 
 and Margot stopped and spoke to him,.
 
 ON THE VERGE 379 
 
 1 What have you got in that barrow, Tom,' she said. ' Leaves? ' 
 Leaves and all sorts, iniss,' said Tom, putting down his barrow 
 to touch his hat ; ' had a job to clear it all up, too, miss ; this is the 
 second barrerful, got it all swept up now, miss.' 
 ' And what do you do with it all, Tom ? ' 
 1 Bonfire, miss, got it burning now in the yard.' 
 'Very well, Tom, you can go on,' said Margot. They were 
 opposite the summer-house now, and Orme thought he saw her 
 glance at it as she passed with a slight hesitation. ' Shall we sit 
 down ? ' he proposed. 
 
 ' There ! ' she said, with a little shiver. ' No, indeed. I was 
 thinking what a hideous little place it looked, and how I should 
 like to have it pulled down ! ' 
 
 Orme said nothing, but it instantly rushed to his mind that it 
 was there that she had met Allen the night before. 
 
 ' I am grateful to the rain for one thing,' she said presently, ' it 
 has put off the picnic. Even Pussie Eddlestone quailed at the idea 
 of having afternoon tea in a swamp, so she has written to fix to- 
 morrow instead. I am so glad, for I don't think I could have borne 
 it to-day. I hope I shall be better to-morrow you will come, too, 
 Nugent, of course ? There will be plenty of room for you in the 
 wagonette. Lettie is going in Millicent's pony-trap.' 
 ' How will you go ? ' he asked. 
 ' I shall ride, I think.' 
 
 ' Then I will ride too,' he said. ' I can get a horse at the hotel 
 stables, and we can go together.' 
 
 He fancied that her assent was not so enthusiastic as it might 
 have been, and soon after, seeing that she was suffering still, and 
 that her replies became more and more languid and perfunctory, he 
 left her with a heavy heart, wishing that he could have found the 
 courage to tell her what he knew, and yet trying to convince him- 
 self that it was his duty to be patient and await her pleasure. 
 
 By the next day, however, his mind was more at ease ; he would 
 have an opportunity of speaking to her while they were riding to- 
 gether, and this time he would not allow her to baffle him. He saw 
 what the case was that coward had been working on her sym- 
 pathies, making her feel that she was the cause of his wretchedness 
 well, it ought not to be difficult to convince her that her pity was 
 thrown away, her responsibility of the remotest degree. 
 
 It was a lovely afternoon the sky a deep blue, mottled with 
 trails of pure white, the air clear, the landscape refreshed and re- 
 juvenated by the much-needed rain when Orme dismounted at the 
 steps of Agra House. Margot's mare had been brought round, and 
 Margot herself was not long in making her appearance. 
 
 She was a sight to rejoice any eyes, to say nothing of a lover's, 
 as she came down the steps with a smiling nod of welcome to him, 
 and stood there caressing and talking confidentially to Harebell. 
 And yet, when he had put her into the saddle and they were riding 
 through the gates together, he noticed that her eyes still had that
 
 380 THE PABIAH 
 
 strained look of apprehension, and that her cheeks had lost all 
 vestige of colour. She talked gaily enough and declared herself 
 quite recovered, but he fancied that, as before, there was an effort 
 in her animation. 
 
 ' We had better trot on,' she said after they had got clear of the 
 village, 'or we shan't catch up the others they started ever so long 
 ago.' 
 
 ' Is it absolutely necessary to catch them up ? ' objected Orme. 
 
 ' They will expect it. But, of course, if you would find trotting 
 at all inconvenient ' 
 
 ' I am not afraid of falling off,' said Nugent with a laugh, 'if you 
 mean that.' 
 
 ' I only said that to tease you,' she answered, with a side-glance 
 which spoke her approval of his appearance. ' You look rather well 
 on a horse, do you know, Nugent But really we ought to go on. 
 The Holly Bank wagonette isn't even in sight yet.' 
 
 For some time they trotted on, exchanging remarks at intervals, 
 until on a hill far in front they saw the gh'tter of varnished panels 
 in the sun. 
 
 ' We needn't hurry now,' said Orme, ' there's the wagonette, 
 and, yes, that's Millicent and Lettice in the pony-carriage behind 
 them. As long as they see us, that will do, and and I want to tell 
 you something, Margot.' 
 
 She checked her mare instantly. ' Wait till I have told you 
 something first,' she said. ' I forgot it yesterday, and I know you 
 will be interested.' 
 
 It was better that she should tell him he felt ashamed once 
 more to have doubted that she would do so. ' Tell me your news 
 first,' he said. 
 
 ' Ida is engaged to Guy Hotham. It was all settled at Homburg, 
 and they will be at home in a few days now. Nugent, do you think 
 Lady Adela will object could she ? ' 
 
 His face fell ; he had hoped that she was about to tell him 
 something very different, but she seemed so earnest, so absorbed in 
 the subject Hhat he could not pass it off just then. Perhaps it 
 occurred to him for the first time Allen had lied, she had not seen 
 him, did not even know that he had been there. 
 
 At last his opportunity came. ' You don't ask me for my news,' 
 he said, ' and yet, if you don't know it already, I think you will be 
 a little startled. Margot, on Tuesday night I saw Allen in Gorse- 
 combe.' 
 
 ' You saw Allen ? ' she repeated with bloodless lips. ' Nugent 
 did you speak to him, did he tell you anything why he had 
 come ? * 
 
 ' He said he had come to see you, that he had seen you in the 
 garden. Margot, why did you keep that from me ? ' 
 
 ' Why did I ? Oh, Nugent, I've dropped my whip ! Will you 
 get it for me, please, I will hold your horse. . . . Thanks very much ! 
 And now, see Pussie is waving a handkerchief at us from the wago-
 
 OH THE VERGE 38l 
 
 ftette they will all begin waving directly, like a school treat ! We 
 must get on, really." 
 
 ' Answer my question first,' he said ; ' why did you say nothing 
 about Allen ? ' 
 
 1 Because it could do no good, it was not a pleasant subject to 
 talk about.' 
 
 ' That I can understand but not why you didn't mention it to 
 me. Surely, Margot, there should be no secrets between us now ! ' 
 
 ' I I tried to tell you, I could not not at once. I I thought 
 you would blame me.' 
 
 1 Blame you for what ? ' 
 
 ' It was stupid of me, wasn't it ? But it made me nervous, 
 Nugent. I never used to be nervous but it is a little your fault. 
 I never know how you will look at things, and it frightens me ! ' 
 
 Orme was deeply hurt. ' I am sorry I give you that feeling,' he 
 said coldly ; ' I thought you had more confidence in me than that.' 
 And, without another word, they rode on till they came up with the 
 rest of the party. 
 
 ' We quite thought you had had an accident,' screamed Pussie 
 Eddlestone, ' didn't we, mamma ? "We were nearly sending Mr. 
 Fanshawe back to see what had become of you. I had visions of 
 Margot being run away with, and Mr. Orme going home on a 
 hurdle. Now you have caught us up do keep with us, like good 
 people it makes it so much cosier ! ' 
 
 Whatever additional cosiness could be derived from calling out 
 small-talk at the top of her voice and making encouraging sounds 
 to the horses was afforded to Miss Eddlestone for the remainder of 
 the drive. A little later they reached the place where they had 
 arranged to picnic, a beech wood surrounding a chain of three 
 miniature lakes, a favourite spot for such expeditions. 
 
 The Eddlestone girls bustled about, discussing the best sites, 
 organising stick-collecting parties, and unpacking provisions with 
 the noisiest energy ; the jokes were as mild, the tea as smoky, and 
 the discomfort as undeniable as they generally are on these occa- 
 sions. 
 
 At any other time, Orme would have found enjoyment, notwith- 
 standing, in the scene the warm, peaceful afternoon, the bright 
 figures grouped in the shade by the satiny grey beech trunks, and 
 beside them the olive-green water, ringed here and there by a rising 
 fish. But he was too oppressed to do so then, or to take more than 
 a very half-hearted part in the general gaiety. What he had just 
 learnt had sorely disquieted him. He did not suspect Margot, even 
 then, but he watched her with a sad wonder as she sat there, laugh- 
 ing and talking with that feverish brilliancy in her eyes. 
 
 He had thought he possessed her entire confidence, that their 
 mutual understanding was perfect and now she had kept this 
 harmless secret from him, out of fear. Margot, who seem so proud 
 and fearless, afraid of him. Why ? Was it his own fault ? How 
 could he repair it ?
 
 382 THE PARIAH 
 
 Presently Lettlce came to him : ' Nngent,' she said in a whisper, 
 come and help me to get some water-lilies, there are some on the 
 other pond, quick, before the others see us ! We'll pretend we are 
 just going for a little walk, and look quite careless about it then 
 they won't suspect anything. Give me your hands, I'll pull you 
 up oh, what a weight you are ! ' 
 
 Nugent let her drag him off by an elaborately circuitous path. 
 ' Can you row ? ' said Lettice. ' You can ? Then there's a boat 
 in a little house down there we'll get it, do lot us.' 
 
 The rest of the party began to disperse. Mrs. Eddlestone, who 
 was not of active habits, remaining .to pack up, Mr. Fanshawe 
 going off with Fay in search of ferns, Millie ent and Dottie carrying 
 the remains of the feast to the coachman. Pussie Eddlestone drew 
 Margot's arm in hers and strolled round the edge of the lake. 
 1 Hasn't it been jolly ! ' she said. 'Though, to be sure, we might 
 have had a few more men. Would any one think Mr, Fanshawe 
 was such fun, to hear him in the pulpit ? It would be nice if he 
 took a fancy to dear Fay, wouldn't it ? By-the-by, dearest, have 
 you settled yet, when your wedding is to be ? You'll let us be 
 your bridesmaids, won't you ? ' 
 
 ' Nothing is settled yet, Pussie. Perhaps my wedding never 
 will be.' 
 
 Something in the tone of the reply made good-natured, inquisi- 
 tive Pussie open her eyes. ' Why, Margot, what a thing to say ! 
 I thought you were such a happy couple ! He was looking rather 
 glum all through tea, now I remember. Have you fallen out with 
 one another, or what ? ' 
 
 ' No no,' said Margot impatiently ; ' only one can never be 
 sure of anything in this world ; happiness least of all ! ' 
 
 She was standing by one of the lakes as she said this, looking 
 with clouded, serious eyes out to the middle of the water, where 
 Nugent was sculling lazily about under Lettice's orders. Now ho 
 was leaning forward and talking to her, in so low a voice that the 
 words were not carried to the bank. If he was questioning her 
 about last night if Lettice forgot her promise ! Well, it was Fate 
 she was powerless. And though she seemed to see nothing, she 
 was conscious all the time of every detail in the scene before her. 
 Orme's fine and rather severe face, and Lettice's eager one ; the 
 liquid dazzle on the wet sides of the boat ; the golden-green of the 
 beech wood, and in the background a pine-clad hill with the red 
 trunks gleaming redder in the level sunshine. 
 
 ' What makes you so awfully morbid, dear ? ' said Pussie. ' If 
 I were lovely like you, and engaged to be married to someone who 
 adored me, I wouldn't be afraid of unhappiness coming, at least I 
 . would wail till it did come ! ' 
 
 'Don't envy me, Pussie. You wouldn't if you knew ! What am 
 I saying ? You are right, I was morbid. And, after all, if one once 
 really loves it isn't easy for anything to destroy that love, is it ? ' 
 
 ' Now what has anyone been telling you against Mr. Orme ?
 
 ON THE VEE&E 
 
 t)on't believe it, Margot, whatever it is. Why, we ve known him 
 ever since we were children together, and besides, can't you feel 
 it isn't true ! What did they say, dear ? ' 
 
 Margot laughed a little drearily. ' How ridiculous you are. Do 
 you think I want to be assured that Nugent is faultless ? No one 
 has ever told me anything to his discredit, and if they did ah, I 
 should shock you if I finished my sentence.' 
 
 Ji:st then she would almost have welcomed the discovery of 
 anything in him which put him on a lower level, which would 
 lessen his right to condemn her. She felt surer of her ability to 
 forgive him, than his to excuse her. Did he know already, and 
 how much ? If she were to tell him this very evening, as they 
 were riding home, he might help her, counsel her what to do ; on 
 ihe other hand she would risk everything. She could not foresee 
 what view he might take, what act of reparation he might insist 
 upon. Still, as she went back to the spot where Mrs. Eddlestone 
 was still placidly dozing by an unpacked basket, she had almost 
 resolved on unburdening her conscience before nightfall. 
 
 Lettice had made no perilous confidences while in the boat. 
 Orme was incapable of inviting them, and she was mindful of her 
 promise, from a persuasion that Allen's return was connected in 
 some mysterious way with her silence. 
 
 So when he and Margot were on their way home, he was as un- 
 enlightened as before. 
 
 There was some delay in saddling the horses, and the vehicles 
 were far in advance when they mounted, but this time neither 
 showed any inclination to hurry. 
 
 ' Nugent,' began Margot, ' I I want you to tell me exactly what 
 happened that night when you met him.' 
 
 ' Why should you wish to know ? ' he said. ' He is gone he 
 went off to London next morning, he is not likely to trouble yon 
 ' a^ain ... let us forget him.' 
 
 Her face lost some of its anxiety, but she was not entirely 
 satisfied. ' Still, I should like to know, Nugent,' she said, bending 
 over to take her handkerchief from the saddle-pocket. ' Tell me.' 
 
 Seeing that she would not be put off, he told her everything but 
 Allen's parting words. Her eyes were fixed on him and he saw 
 her face slowly assuming an expression that startled him by its 
 suppressed tragedy. 
 
 1 You told him that ! ' she said in a low voice. ' Oh, Nugent, 
 what have you done what have you done ? ' 
 
 4 Don't look like that, dearest ! ' he said, ' I was wrong, I know. 
 I only meant to prove to him that I knew the worst there was to 
 know. If he had come back with any honest purpose he would 
 not have resented it so, but he is a thorough scoundrel. He left 
 me in order to go and get dead-drunk in some low tap-room. I 
 heard that afterwards. What could anyone do to help such a fellow 
 BS that ? ' 
 
 Margot's face was turned away from him towards the gorgeous
 
 884 THE PARIAH 
 
 western sky, with its contrasts of saffron and heather, rose and 
 lapis lazuli, seen above the bronzed purple of the slopes across the 
 valley. Her time had come ; she must speak now ; but she kept 
 her face averted as she did so, and the words seemed forced from 
 her by some agency stronger than herself. ' Ah, Nugent ! ' she 
 cried, almost inaudibly ; ' if if he were innocent ? ' 
 
 ' Innocent ! I don't understand,' said Orme. 
 
 ' Why won't you without words ? If he did not really steal 
 that locket ' 
 
 1 How can that be, if it is true that he was actually caught in 
 the act ? Did you not tell me so that evening at Taplow ? ' 
 
 ' Did I say that V I ought to have said that he was found with 
 the locket in his possession that was true enough.' 
 
 ' But you meant me to understand that he stole it, didn't you ? ' 
 She made no answer her graceful head dropped a little more. 
 
 ' Which story am I to believe that or this ? Margot, do you 
 think I hesitate for a moment ? I know you too well for that. 
 How could you imagine I could believe you capable of such cold- 
 blooded wickedness ; such mean, hateful treachery ! ' 
 
 ' I only said if Allen were innocent, Nugent ! ' she said faintly. 
 
 ' I know,' he replied, ' you spoke out of some generous impulse to 
 shield him, to make excuses for him. You felt, very likely, that 
 you might have done more than you did ; you were touched when 
 you saw him in that degraded, desperate state. But you didn't 
 see how should you? what such a defence as that involved, or 
 you would never have hoped that I should believe it ! If I once 
 believed that Allen was innocent, I should believe much more I 
 could not help myself, Margot. Thank God, I am too sure of you 
 for that ! I know that if you were really convinced of his inno- 
 cence, you would not have sent him away, you would not have 
 tried to conceal his return ; you could not, or you would not be 
 Margot not my Margot ! ' 
 
 ' And if I had done all that,' she said ; ' would you hate me ? ' 
 
 ' If you had done that,' he replied, ' I should not hats you, I sup- 
 pose, even then but I would never see you again if I could help it. I 
 should try not to think of you, or if I did think of you it would be as 
 one I had loved and who was dead.' She stole a look at his face as he 
 spoke, and shuddered. His eyes were stern, the lines of his lips 
 had grown rigid at the mere thought, the sunset touched his 
 features with -a radiance which seemed to render his face unfamiliar 
 and almost terrible to Margot just then. 
 
 But the next moment he was smiling into her conscience- 
 stricken face with all the old tenderness. ' See what you might 
 have accomplished by that quixotic plea of yours ! ' he said. 
 ' Luckily for me and you too, you poor, impetuous darling you 
 have failed to convince me in the very least ! ' 
 
 Margot gave a long sigh. ' Yes I have failed,' she said. ' I 
 will not try again. And, Nugent, whatever I am you 'do love me 
 Tell me so again 1 '
 
 ON THE VERGE 885 
 
 There was Something infinitely pathetic to him in the humility 
 of the exquisite face tlaat was uplifted to his own ; he bent and 
 kissed her passionately on her tremulous, proud lips ; his arm was 
 around her slender form. ' I love you,' he said. ' I love you with 
 all my heart and soul you cannot really doubt that, Margot if 
 Whatever you say against yourself, I know that you are generous 
 and true and tender-hearted. Forget all my old miserable fault- 
 finding your instincts were right, mine were wrong. Darling, I 
 am not worthy of you who would be ? But at least at least I 
 love you ! ' 
 
 He released her and they rode on in silence ; Margot smiling to 
 herself in the dusk with a half bitter, half melancholy self-applica- 
 tion of two lines from ' The Last Bide Together,' 
 
 So one day more am I deified, 
 
 Who knows but the world may end to-night ? 
 
 Presently they came to a stretch of level turf. ' Nugent ! ' she 
 cried ; ' Harebell has been so good, and she is dying for a canter ? ' 
 And before Nugent could remonstrate, she was flying over the 
 common and he had nothing to do but follow. 
 
 ' Isn't it glorious ! ' she said, as they pulled up some minutes 
 later, ' I didn't think your horse would have kept up with Hare- 
 bell.' 
 
 ' It was not a very safe thing to do,' said Nugent. ' You couldn't 
 possibly have seen a trench or a rabbit-hole in this light ! ' 
 
 She laughed a little wildly. ' Perhaps that was why I did it 1 ' 
 she said. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 LITERA SCRIPTA. 
 
 fork. Peruse this writing here, and thou shalt know 
 The treason that my haste forbids me show. 
 
 Aum. Remember, as thou read'st, thy promise past 
 I do repent me ; read not my name there, 
 My heart is not confederate with my hand. 
 
 Rich. II. Act 5. 
 
 CHADWICK returned unexpectedly on the evening of the picnic, and 
 Margot met him at breakfast next morning. ' So I'm to have the 
 blessing of seeing my family around me at last 1 ' he remarked, 
 with one of his ugly sneers. ' Your dear mother writes me she is 
 coming home. Returning with flying colours, too, and a prisoner 
 of war oh, don't look at me like that you know all about it ; 
 I shall take care to let Lady Adela know I've had no hand in it. 
 This young Hotham must be a chuckle-headed chap to be caught 
 by Miss Ida. I ought to be a proud man stepfather-in-law to a 
 
 00
 
 386 THE PARIAH 
 
 future baronet ! I shall hold up my head with the county-folk 
 now. If that boy of mine hadn't turned out a good-for-nothing 
 rogue, he might have made up to Miss Hotham and we should 
 have been a snug family party. Ah, you may curl your lip if you 
 like though it doesn't come well from you, however grand you 
 may think yourself, young lady 1 ' 
 
 ' Why do you say such things to me ? ' the girl protested in a 
 low voice. ' I am very far from being inclined to sneer at anyone 
 just now.' 
 
 ' Allen's beneath your notice, eh ? Well, you got him turned 
 out and you can afford to let him alone now. He's done for him- 
 self with me and gone to the bad, and I don't so much as know 
 whether he's alive or not. I've got a set of dutiful, well brought 
 up children, who are everything they ought to be, and one of them's 
 going to marry into a county family that ought to content me, I 
 daresay. And yet, you'll think it very low and vulgar in me, very 
 likely but there are times when I'd rather have a boy of my own. 
 There are times when, if that poor, shiftless scamp were to come 
 back and say he was sorry like a man, I do believe, though I've 
 struck him out of my will and called him all the hard names I 
 could think of, I do believe I should be fool enough to forgive him I 
 It's something, after ah*, to have a creature of one's own flesh and 
 blood to care for one. 1 
 
 ' Have you ever encouraged us to show you any affection ? ' 
 she said. ' You do not care for us.' 
 
 ' I'm not complaining. I married with my eyes open. I dare- 
 say folks would say all the hardship was on your side of the house. 
 But if I find my amusements where I can get 'em and God knows 
 that isn't at home ! I don't interfere with you ; you have all the 
 indulgences other girls have dresses, parties, as good a bit of 
 horseflesh to ride about on as any in the county, and no money 
 spared on any of you, and all I get in return is black looks for it ! ' 
 
 Margot's eyes had a heartbroken look of appeal in them. 
 ' Don't say that ! ' she implored him with trembling lips ; ' it is not 
 kind it is not true ... I am grateful. I do feel that you treat 
 us well ... I wish I wish I deserved it ! ' 
 
 He had expected a very different reply, and this disconcerted 
 him. ' I wasn't thinking so much of you,' he said lamely. ' You're 
 the best of 'em you and the little girl ; it's Ida who puts my back 
 up ... Don't mind what I said, I'm out of sorts this morning. 
 There, you've not done anything at all events. It's all right ! ' 
 
 This unusual kindness, rough as it was, smote Margot to the 
 heart; it was long before she recovered from the effect of that 
 interview ; she was nervous, afraid of herself all day. She was 
 even glad that she had promised to spend that evening at the 
 Vicarage, her fear of being alone again with Nugent was nothing 
 to her dread of another tcte-a-tiJtc with her stepfather. 
 
 She felt almost happy at the Vicarage ; there was something 
 comforting in being treated with all that admiring affection, even
 
 LITERA SCRIPTA 887 
 
 though she knew that it might pass away only too soon. Margot 
 was more irresistible than usual that evening, pathetically grateful 
 for the most trifling kindness, docile and subdued, to a degree that 
 won Mrs. Orme's complete approval. ' I must say,' she remarked 
 to Millicent in the drawing-room after dinner. ' being engaged has 
 had an excellent effect on Margot, she is so improved so much 
 more gentle than she was ! ' 
 
 'Much, 1 agreed Millicent, but she said it with a little sigh. ' I 
 wish she looked a little happier,' she was thinking ; ' is she finding 
 out that she has made a mistake in her feeling for Nugent ? I 
 wonder if she is telling him so now out there, poor fellow, and he 
 loves her so dearly ! Why could she not have left him alone ? ' 
 
 Millicent wronged her. Just then, Margot, as she paced the 
 lawn with Nugent in the mystical green light, had never loved him 
 more, never felt so intense a satisfaction in the consciousness of 
 being beloved. She said but little herself, no more than was suffi- 
 cient to draw forth stronger and tenderer assurances of all she was 
 to him than he had ever spoken yet. She needed them all ; they 
 gave her strength and courage ; in spite of his words yesterday, 
 she began to hope that this power she possessed over him, making 
 his strong voice tremble with repressed passion, would survive any 
 disclosure she might make. She would be herself still, unchanged 
 but for one thing ; could he leave her, and never see her face again, 
 as he had said ? Then she remembered that, for far less cause, he 
 had been ready to withdraw from her before why imperil her 
 whole happiness now by revealing what there might even yet be 
 no necessity that he should ever know ? 
 
 No, she could not ; the present hour was sweet, she would enjoy 
 it ; if it was not to last, she would have it afterwards to look back 
 upon this last evening with Nugent in the shadowy garden, with 
 the scent of late Mary lilies and stocks in the air, and all forms and 
 foliage confused and softened in a mellow haze. 
 
 Yet, though she could not decide to tell him, she was equally 
 nnable to keep away altogether from the dangerous topic, as though 
 she sought yet for some favourable opening, or wished to commit 
 him to some self-contradiction. 
 
 ' Why do you doubt me like this, darling ? ' he said at last. 
 1 Why can't you believe once for all that nothing you could do 
 would alter my love ? it is so ! ' 
 
 1 Nothing, Nugent ? When you said yesterday that, if I had 
 Bent Allen away knowing he was innocent, you would leave me 1 ' 
 
 ' If you had done so, yes. I was safe in answering that, be- 
 cause I know perfectly well that that is just one of the things you 
 simply could not do. Margot, can't you forgive me yet for mis- 
 trusting you before ! I did distrust you, to my eternal shame, but 
 that was before I knew you as I do now, and even then, I nevei 
 once thought or could have thought you a traitress.' 
 
 ' Oh, and I was not indeed I was not ! ' she cried. 
 No,' he said. ' I think you are too proud for that. So you 
 
 ooi
 
 888 THE PARIAH 
 
 must not persist in supposing yourself guilty of these imaginary 
 crimes, and asking me what I should do ; or you will end by be- 
 lieving in them yourself. I don't want to be too hard on that poor 
 fellow, but, from your own account, he could not be innocent, you 
 could not even believe, to say nothing of knowing, he was so under 
 the circumstances. He may come back and reproach you as much 
 as he likes though I should not advise him to do it if I am near 
 but the responsibility for what he is now is not on you. I have 
 told you all this before, and now I have seen him myself and heard 
 of his later proceedings, I feel even more certain than I did that he 
 was an irreclaimable scamp, and that in insisting on his leaving 
 you did only what you were perfectly justified in doing. So you 
 must think no more about it. Are you cold out here, darling ? 
 No ? I thought that was unlikely on such a magnificent night. 
 How splendid the moon looks between those two cedar boughs ! 
 What a curious shape, too that tilted oval ! ' 
 
 ' Yes,' said Margot ; ' it looks like a cold shining death-mask 
 hung up there.' 
 
 ' Not a particularly cheerful simile. You are almost as bad 
 as Heine's philosopher friend, who said the stars were only a 
 brilliant eruption on the face of Heaven ! ' 
 
 ' Did he ? ' said Margot absently ; ' how unpleasant of him 
 but it is rather ghostly out here, Nugent, don't you think ? Let us 
 go back to the drawing-room, and I will sing to you, if you are good.' 
 
 They found Mrs. Orme reading a letter which had just been de- 
 livered. ' Oh, Margot,' she began, ' perhaps you can tell me what 
 I ought to do about this ? I've just had a letter from a Mrs. 
 Melladew, who says she used to be Mrs. Chadwick's governess. 
 She wants to know if she may use my name as a reference she is 
 taking pupils and very anxious to be recommended. I should have 
 thought she would write to your mother. I know nothing about 
 her, except that she accompanied songs sometimes at our Penny 
 Readings. So far as I remember she played with some taste 
 and correctness.' 
 
 ' She did not behave very well about leaving,' said Margot. ' I 
 suppose that was why she did not like to ask mother to recommend 
 her and of course,' she added, ' she will be glad to have your 
 name. She did teach the piano very well. I think you might 
 safely do what she asks.' 
 
 ' I look upon giving a reference as a very serious thing,' said 
 the Vicar's wife importantly ; ' a very serious thing indeed. I 
 could not recommend her at this distance of time without having a 
 personal interview and finding out what she intends to teach and 
 how far she is qualified to do so. I shall write and tell her that, if 
 she likes to come down and see me, I will let her know, after I have 
 put a few questions, how far I can conscientiously allow my name 
 to be used. Yes, that will be far the best way. I don't suppose she 
 will really, come all the way from town, and I shall feel I have done 
 all that can be done.'
 
 LITERA SCRIPTA 889 
 
 She sat down to her writing-table to carry out this design, 
 whereupon Nugent claimed the fulfilment of Margot's promise. 
 She went to the piano, and he sat near, where he could watch her 
 face as she sang. She had chosen that daintiest and tenderest o 
 modern love-songs ' The Devout Lover,' possibly with a sad pre- 
 vision of its future irony. She had only sung one verse, when the 
 Vicarage maidservant entered : ' There's a young person outside,' 
 she said to her mistress, ' who wants to speak to Mr. Nugent.' 
 
 ' She must mean the Vicar,' said Mrs. Orme, turning round 
 from her letter ; ' it can't be you, Nugent. Say the Vicar is away 
 at a parish meeting, and won't be back till late, will you, Ellen ? ' 
 
 ' The young person said most particular, please ma'am, that it 
 was Mr. Nugent she wished to see. ' 
 
 ' Oh," said Nugent ; ' I'd better go and see what it is, mother ; 
 I shan't be a moment.' 
 
 He rose and went out. 
 
 ' It's Miss Margot's maid, sir,' said Ellen. ' She didn't^wish it 
 mentioned in there. I've shown her into the study." 
 
 In some wonder as to what this young woman could possibly 
 want with him, Nugent entered his father's room. There, at one 
 side of the Vicar's table, with its litter of parish accounts, sermon 
 paper, and divinity books, sat Susan, nervously twisting the long 
 ends of her mantle. ' I hope I've not taken a liberty, sir,' she 
 began ; ' but there's things as can't be said on the house-tops and 
 I should be glad of the favour of your advice.' 
 
 ' Really,' said Nugent, ' I am not qualified to advise you. I 
 think my father unless,' he added, ' it's any legal trouble you're 
 in?' 
 
 ' It's nothing of that sort, thank you, sir. I've come to you, 
 knowing that you used to be a good friend to Mr. Allen when 
 he was living at home.' 
 
 Orme sat down. ' Well? ' he said. 
 
 ' Perhaps you wasn't aware, sir, that he was back here the other 
 night ? ' 
 
 ' I am quite aware of that, he has gone away again what of 
 it?' 
 
 1 1 don't know if Miss Margot mentioned that she had a talk 
 with him while he was here.' 
 
 ' Miss Chevening mentioned that, too naturally,' said Orme. 
 For an instant the girl's face fell unmistakably, but only for an 
 instant. 
 
 ' You see, sir,' she continued, ' what I should like your advice 
 upon is this : I never was so set against Mr. Allen as some people. 
 I always said it was a case of give a dog a bad name ; and when he 
 was sent away to Injia on a sudden, I had a feeling it was all on 
 account of something he was thought to have done, though it was 
 kept very quiet even us servants didn't know nothing for certain. 
 And it wasn't till only the other day as I found out what that some- 
 thing really was. Mr. Allen was sent away for stealing joolery
 
 890 THE PARIAH 
 
 belonging to Miss Margot which he no more done, sir, than what 
 E did myself, and I can prove every word I say ! ' 
 
 ' I am very glad to hear it, and so I am sure will Miss Chevening 
 be if you can prove it, there's no reason for any hesitation that I 
 can see.' 
 
 Susan's eyes glittered. ' That's what you say now, sir,' she 
 said; 'but I've myself to think of. I'd like to see Mr. Allen 
 righted, but if it's to cost me my place 
 
 ' If you are afraid of your master, I will undertake to see it done 
 without bringing you into the matter that is, if you have any real 
 proof, your mere word is nothing, I need not tell you, in a case like 
 this.' 
 
 ' Thank you sir, I'm sure. I have got a proof beyond my 
 words, or I shouldn't be here. And I want you to promise as you'll 
 lay it before Mr. Chadwick yourself, which is more than I durst do 
 myself! ' 
 
 ' I will tell you when I have seen it. First of all what is it, 
 and where is it ? ' 
 
 I've got it wrapped up in my dolman, sir ; and I'd like to tell 
 you, before I let you see it, how it came into my hands, and then 
 you'll see why I'm not putting myself forward beyond what I can 
 help. Mr. Allen asked me to get Miss Margot to come down to 
 the summer-house and speak to him, which she done, for I see her 
 set out.' 
 
 Orme began to feel uncomfortable ; he did not know why, for 
 he had already guessed that the meeting took place in that par- 
 ticular spot : perhaps it was a certain suppressed tigerishness in 
 this woman's expression, a conviction of coming triumph, that he 
 did not like. 
 
 While this conversation was going on, Margot had been softly 
 finishing the song in the drawing-room opposite, he heard the last 
 line dying away as he sat there, waiting for Susan to proceed, 
 
 ' And worship her in distant reverence.' 
 
 Susan was still hesitating, probably editing and revising her 
 proposed revelations. 
 
 ' If you happened to overhear what passed at that interview,' 
 said Nugent, ' you may spare yourself the trouble of saying any- 
 thing more because I shall not listen.' 
 
 She flushed with indignant virtue. ' I should scorn such actions,' 
 she said ; ' it was it was the day after, and I was walking round 
 the grounds after tea, when I see some scraps of paper on the floor 
 of the summer-house. I thought I knew the writing, and it was a 
 pity to leave it laying about where it might be read, so I picked 
 them all up, and something made me piece 'em together like, jiist 
 to see if they made sense. When I read it, there you might have 
 knocked me down with a feather ! It was as clear as daylight as 
 Mr. Allen was as innocent as a child ! . . Sir, Mr. Nugent, let me 
 go on let me tell you how it was, if you're truly his friend it's
 
 LITERA SCRIPTA 391 
 
 your bounden duty to hear ine out that letter was written, asking, 
 begging, and praying of him to take that locket out of Mis3 
 Margot's drawer and ' 
 
 ' Give me the letter,' said Nugent. 
 
 ' If I do, sir, you won't let Miss Margot get hold of it ? You 
 Bee, if she tore it up once, she'll as likely as not burn it next time 
 she ' 
 
 1 Miss Margot burn a letter ! What in God's name are you 
 talking about ? "What do you mean by talking this impertinence 
 to me ? ' 
 
 ' Of course I can't expect you to believe my word, sir ; though I 
 ought to know her writing by this time but here's the letter to 
 speak for itself. I've pasted it together on foreign paper, as you 
 may see.' 
 
 ' Her letter ! ' cried Orme, falling back, deadly white, in his 
 chair. ' Do you think if I had known that I would have heard you 
 BO far do you think I will read a line of it after this ? It is a 
 damned forgery, this letter of yours, do you hear ! ' 
 
 ' I hear you, sir, and I'm not surprised at your taking on, even 
 to bringing yourself to use such language to me. But if it's a 
 forgery, I should have thought that was all the more reason for 
 looking at it. I'm sure I've no interest one way or the other, as 
 your own sense ought to tell you. 1 
 
 Nugent turned upon her. 'I don't believe you,' he said; 'you 
 Jiave an interest ; you have not come here to ask advice, you have 
 made up your mind what to do already hold your tongue, and 
 put that precious paper in your pocket again ! You have some 
 devilish scheme of your own in all this ; you may really believe 
 you have got hold of something that compromises Miss Chevening, 
 or you may be acting with a confederate for all I know. Listen to 
 me, will you ! I say you can make what use of that letter you 
 like, so far as I or Miss Chevening are concerned. If you are 
 acting under any other person's orders, let me warn you to take 
 care what you do. Before you take any steps, think whether you 
 may not find that you have ruined yourself without injuring Miss 
 Chevening, which seems to be your main object. Conspiracy is an 
 ugly thing to meddle with, remember. You say you want my 
 advice now you have it.' 
 
 ' Then you won't- even look at the letter, sir ? ' 
 
 ' Am I to tell you that twice ? Leave the house, and, before 
 you decide to go on with this, count the consequences that is all 
 I have to say to you. You have been warned.' 
 
 Susan rose ; she was pale, too, for she was more than a little 
 shaken by the contemptuous rage she had provoked, and discon- 
 certed as well by his insight into her motives ; and yet, as he could 
 not help noticing, she had not the bearing of a detected impostor. 
 She was chagrined, spiteful, but not abject ; he could not think 
 she disbelieved in the genuineness of her evidence, or that she was 
 in collusion with any other.
 
 892 THE PARIAH 
 
 ' I'm going, sir,' she said. ' I respect myself too much to notice 
 the thinge you've thought fit to say. Whether you believe me or 
 not, all I want is to see justice done, and if you won't help me, / 
 must go through with it single-handed, that's all about it. And I 
 might have kncwn beforehand, if I hadn't been a fool, that it 
 wasn't likely as you'd be anxious to see Mr. Allen righted now 
 it's natural you shouldn't, under the circumstances.' 
 
 ' If a man were to say that to me,' said Nugent, ' I wouldn't 
 answer for what I might do to him. As it is, you will go out of 
 this house without another word I ' 
 
 He rose and opened the door with such an expression that even 
 Susan's feminine desire for the last word was quelled into silence, 
 and she passed out, with her nose high in the air, it is true, but a 
 heart that was secretly quaking. 
 
 ' I wish I'd a young man as would stand up for me like that 
 through thick and thin,' she was reflecting, on her homeward way; 
 ' that baker wouldn't no, nor yet that young rip of a Barchard, for 
 all the gentleman he thought himself ! But Mr. Nugent will have 
 it out with her, for all that. I've stopped her singing for a while, 
 that's one comfort ; she'll be on her knees to me next, and then it 
 will be my turn ! ' 
 
 Orme dropped into his chair again, trying to think. "With a 
 shock of absolute terror he found himself yielding once more to 
 doubts of M argot, and this time more hideous than any that 
 Millicent had instilled. The flaws that had seemed fatal then to 
 his love, now seemed venial by comparison. And yet she had 
 vindicated herself before, she would do so again. But he must 
 know, he must ask, already the glow of indignant incredulity had 
 died away ; he was beginning against his will to remember, to com- 
 pare, to balance probabilities. Only Margot could save him from 
 this hell of doubt and he could bear it no longer. 
 
 He went to the drawing-room, where she was still sitting with 
 his mother and sister. Not daring to advance out of the shadow, 
 he said, in as ordinary a voice as he could command, ' Margot, will 
 you come into the study for a moment ? I want your opinion 
 about something.' 
 
 She followed him, with some smiling remark to Millicent in 
 passing. He closed the study door upon them. ' What a wretched 
 light to show anything by ! ' observed Margot, as she saw the one 
 candle flickering in the draught from the open window. ' What is 
 this wonderful object I am to admire, Nugent ? ' 
 
 He stood there by the book-cases, looking at her in her brilliant 
 young beauty. What folly to believe that that sweet, stately 
 innocence of hers had anything to conceal ! 
 
 ' An excuse to get you alone,' he said. ' Margot, I have just 
 Been somebody who told me a very strange story.' 
 
 She looked strange and startled, with the light flickering over 
 tier face. ' A story ! ' she repeated. ' About what, Nugent ? '
 
 LITERA SCEIPTA 893 
 
 1 About a letter that was written long ago written and 
 destroyed.' 
 
 She caught the window-curtain at her side, as if to save herself 
 from falling. ' Ah ! ' she cried, ' I know now ... it was Allen ! 
 He has come back to do this. Oh, the coward ; the coward I 
 Nugent, you must not believe it you vvill not ? ' 
 
 ' Why should you think it was Allen ? ' he said. ' It was not 
 Allen, Margot, it was someone who hates you at least as bitterly 
 your own maid, Susan.' 
 
 ' Susan ! And you listened to what she chose to tell you 
 against me ! Is that your trust, Nugent ? ' 
 
 ' Don't reproach me till you have heard. She came to me with 
 a story that Allen was innocent ; that he was induced to take that 
 locket by a letter making certain representations. I did not at 
 first understand that you were personally concerned. I refuse to 
 believe now that you knew of its existence. I trust you . . only, 
 if you love me, Margot, let me hear you say so yourself! ' 
 
 ' There is no such letter,' she said defiantly. ' You have been 
 deceived by a wicked girl. There is no such letter, Nugent. There 
 cannot be ! ' 
 
 'Thank God!' he said, under his breath. 'I was sure of it, 
 darling. I knew it was an infamous slander. I was so sure that I 
 would not look at the letter that woman tried to show me.' 
 
 Her grasp on the curtain tightened. ' Susan tried to show you 
 a letter ! ' she said faintly. ' What letter, Nugent ? ' 
 
 ' Tlie letter. The letter which, according to her, brought about 
 Allen's disgrace.' 
 
 ' Did she tell you how it came into her hands ? ' 
 
 ' The account she gave was that she picked it up in pieces 
 by the summer-house in your grounds the evening after you saw 
 Allen. Not a very probable story, is it ? If you remember, we 
 saw them clearing up the paths that morning.' 
 
 ' She she might have gone there early before they began.' 
 
 ' Then do you mean that she told the truth ? Was there a 
 letter ? Was it torn up ? If so, by whom ? ' 
 
 ' Nugent, how can I tell ? You ask so many questions.' 
 
 ' You know nothing about it ? ' 
 
 'Have I not said so? But these pieces, Nugent; these pieces 
 what did she mean to do with them ? Why did she bring them 
 to you ? ' 
 
 ' She had pasted them together ; she pretended that she was 
 afraid to show it to your step-father herself, and wished me to do 
 so.' 
 
 ' And she left the letter with you ? Where is it, Nugent ? ' 
 
 ' I told you I refused to take it. She left declaring that she 
 would do without my help. Good Heavens ! Margot, what is the 
 matter ? What have I said ? ' 
 
 She was clinging to his arm, looking up into his face with wild, 
 beautiful eyes ! ' Nugent,' she said in a strained whisper, ' she
 
 894 THE PARIAH 
 
 means to show it to him she hates mo so ... I know it 
 she will do anything to injure me. And, Nugent, she must not 
 do you hear? She must be stopped! oh, say you will help nie to 
 get that letter back ! ' 
 
 He put her from him and held her by her wrists, so that he 
 could see her face. ' Tell me the truth,' he said sternly. ' You did 
 know of that letter ? ' Her hands writhed in his in the effort to 
 free themselves and cover her shrinking face. 
 
 ' Have pity on me, Nugent. Don't make me tell you ! ' she 
 murmured. 
 
 He let her go abruptly. ' You need not tell me,' he said. ' I 
 know now, and you thought I would help you to keep this secret ? 
 You knew and said nothing, would have said nothing but for 
 this 1 ' 
 
 She had fallen into the chair occupied by her enemy a few 
 minutes ago, and was making piteous efforts to collect her thoughts, 
 to make her defence. 
 
 ' I would have spoken soon,' she said ; ' when I was able in- 
 deed, indeed I meant to ... Nugent 1 don't you believe me ? ' 
 
 ' No,' he said, ' I don't. I can't. "When I think of all you have 
 told me, all lies deliberate, unscrupulous lies all that poor fellow 
 has suffered ; how I was led to side against him, drive him back to 
 his despair, and you always silent, uncaring, except when you men- 
 tioned him with a lofty pity niy God ! Margot, you have deceived 
 me for the last time ... I will never believe a word you say 
 again 1 ' 
 
 ' I knew this would come,' she said, speaking like one in a 
 trance. ' I said so that first evening of all, on the balcony do 
 you remember ? I knew you would be a hard judge. You always 
 were a little hard to me. And just now in the garden, while you 
 were telling me how dear I was, I knew, I knew ! You are right, 
 I suppose. I always told you I was not good. I have been wicked, 
 hard, unjust now I am punished for it. All I can do now, Nugent, 
 is is to set you free. . . . This is the end of everything between 
 us I ' 
 
 ' Yes,' he said ; ' it is the end. But, Margot, there is more to do 
 yet. You will do what little can be done to undo this wrong. You 
 will tell your step-father everything now this very evening? 
 Surely there is no time to lose.' 
 
 ' She may tell him 1 ' said Margot. ' I cannot and will not say 
 anything.' 
 
 ' I will go with you,' he urged. ' I will stand by you it is the 
 one way I can serve you now. Margot, don't leave this accusation 
 to be brought by your worst enemy ! Even now you may gain you* 
 pardon by confessing. Can you leave Allen under this disgrace an 
 hour longer ? ' 
 
 ' My stepfather would think my repentance came a little late,' 
 she answered with a frozen smile. ' I shall confess nothing. If I 
 can persuade that girl to be silent even for a little while, I shall.
 
 LITERA SCRIPTA 895 
 
 You see I am desperate. If you are anxious to rescue Allen, de- 
 nounce rne yourself, Nugent ! ' 
 
 ' You know I could not ! ' he said ' not unless I was certain 
 that the truth would never corne out otherwise. Then, Margot, I 
 would. As surely as there's a heaven above, I would speak rather 
 than let such wrong go on ; yes, if I had to kill myself after- 
 wards ! See, I give you a week. I shall stay here during that time, 
 much as I would give to go away. If by the end of the week 
 Allen's father does not know of his innocence I will tell him 
 myself.' 
 
 ' "What an heroic determination I ' she said, with the ghost of 
 her old mockery ; ' but I think you will be spared such a painful 
 necessity. It is something at least to know what you propose 
 doing. I have two enemies now, it seems ! ' 
 
 He made a gesture of despair; at the moment he did very 
 nearly hate her. 
 
 ' You taunt me,' he said ; ' but God help me ! what am I to 
 do ? Your enemy I can never be, whatever you have done and are 
 I have loved you too well for that. But that shall not make mo 
 your accomplice ! ' 
 
 ' Have I asked you to be ? Yes, I remember I did . . . that 
 was before. Now I ask nothing. I will go on alone act as I 
 think best. We are not enemies we are not friends, only two 
 people who have loved and found each other out in tune.' 
 
 As she spoke these last words Millicent suddenly entered. 
 1 Why, you disgracefully selfish persons ! ' she began lightly, ' are 
 you aware that you have left us alone all the evennig and that 
 mamma has gone off to bed ? . . . Nugent ! . . . Margot ! ' she 
 broke off, looking from one to the other ; ' is is anything 
 wrong ? ' 
 
 1 Nothing, dear Millicent,' said Margot, with a laugh that had a 
 heartbreak in it, ' except that Nugent and I have discovered that 
 we are unsuited to make one another happy, and have been telling 
 each other so.' 
 
 ' I know who made that discovery ! ' replied Millicent indig- 
 nantly. ' Margot, you have no heart ; you cannot value love when 
 it is yours you do not deserve that it should be wasted on you ! 
 Why is beauty given to people like you, I wonder ? ' 
 
 ' I don't know indeed for their more perfect happiness, perhaps ? 
 And, forgive me, Millicent, but I have really been reproached this 
 evening as much as is good even for me. So if you will let me 
 have nay things, I will go home.' 
 
 ' You are not coming with me ? ' she said with lifted eyebrows, 
 as she found Nugent preparing to accompany her. 
 
 Yes,' he replied shortly. ' I can't let you go back alone 
 Margot, you won't insist on that ! ' 
 
 ' I only insist on one thing,' she said ; ' that if you do come 
 you will not speak to me ; I want to be left in peace if there is 
 any peace for me anywhere now 1 '
 
 396 THE PARIAH 
 
 And they went back to Agra House together without a word, 
 each conscious of the shadow that walked between them in the 
 silence. 
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 GAINING TIME 
 
 Als treulos muss er verachten 
 Die eigne Herzliebte sein 
 Als schimpflich muss er betrachten 
 Die eigne Liebespein. Heine. 
 
 Oh, my Sweet, 
 Think and be sorry you did this thing ! Browning. 
 
 AT the door of Agra House, Margot spoke for the first time since 
 they left the Vicarage, and her words seemed the result of a delibe- 
 ration arrived at during that silent walk. 
 
 ' You are not going to leave Gorsecombe yet ? ' she began. 
 
 ' I told you I should not,' he replied gravely, ' until ' 
 
 ' Until you have satisfied yourself that I am humiliated enough ! ' 
 she struck in with a momentary flash. ' Very well ; but till that 
 desirable end is reached, is it necessary that the whole village 
 should know that we have decided to separate ? ' 
 
 ' Not if you think otherwise,' he said, ' Millicent will say 
 nothing till you wish.' 
 
 ' If you must stay here and I know you cannot trust me out 
 of your supervision let us keep up pretences as long as we can. 
 Oh, it will be ghastly, I know, but, I I will make it as easy as I 
 can for you it will not be so bad as having all Gorsecombe specu- 
 lating about us to our faces, will it ? We need only be seen walk- 
 ing together occasionally ; if we are a little silent, they will put it 
 down to perfect happiness and understanding ! ' 
 
 The muscles in his face were twitching with repressed suffering 
 as he answered her. ' I will do what you please, only you talk of 
 making it easy for me, Margot if you are going to speak to me as 
 you did just now, it will be more than I can bear ! ' 
 
 ' Ah, but I am not. You must remember that it is hard for me 
 too it is a difficult situation just at first, between a girl who hates 
 me and a man who only despises me. What I said was not quite 
 in good taste, very likely. I shall get used to it all in time. By 
 to-morrow, I daresay, you will find me a safe companion. That is, 
 always supposing that Susan has not already set you free to depart. 
 There, you can leave me for to-night at all events.' 
 
 His heart was wrung by the impulse to plead with her once 
 more, to beg her to have pity on herself and on him, to cast away 
 this cynical hardness of hers and own some sorrow for the great 
 wrong she had committed, some willingness to make reparation.
 
 GAINING TIME 397 
 
 But he felt intimidated by those imperious eyes, and the haughty 
 curve of her full lip ; he could not move her, he felt weak enough 
 even still to dread being moved by her, and so the words he had 
 almost uttered, died unspoken, and he turned away into the dark- 
 ness, to wrestle with his agony as he might. 
 
 Miss Chevening, still in the same state of unnatural composure, 
 passed into the hall, and, contrary to her usual custom, looked into 
 the study to bid good-night to her step-father, whose manner 
 satisfied her that her secret was safe as yet. Then she went up to 
 her room and rang for Susan. 
 
 Presently Susan appeared, demurely observant. ' Are you ready 
 for me, Miss ? ' she inquired, as if nothing had happened to affect 
 their relations. 
 
 ' I hear,' said Margot calmly, 'you have been taking the trouble 
 to play the spy upon me, Susan. I want to know how you came 
 to find that letter.' 
 
 Well, Miss, if yoii must know, I haven't been satisfied in my 
 own mind about the way you treated Mr. Allen from the first. And 
 when I knew as you and him was going to have an interview in the 
 summer-house, I thought it was only right there should be some 
 third party present, to see fair play like. So I made free to slip 
 round by a backway through the shrubbery, and stood up behind 
 the arbour.' 
 
 ' And then, I suppose, you heard all that passed between us ? ' 
 
 ' I made the most of my opportunities, miss, certingly ; and I 
 don't deceive you. I heard quite enough to show me what had 
 been going on. Then, as soon as it was safe to come out, I came 
 and there was the letter all tore to bits, which spoke for itself. And 
 with all respect to you, miss, that letter I mean to keep till I have 
 a chance of laying it before one who has the best right to see it ! ' 
 
 Margot's eyes lightened ; if a wish could have killed, Susan 
 would never have left that room alive, but it was necessary to keep 
 calm, not to let this girl see that she could affect her in any way. 
 
 ' What is your price ? for I suppose that is what you are coming 
 to,' she said. 
 
 ' My price, miss ? Really I beg your pardon, but I don't under- 
 stand.' 
 
 'You do understand you understand very well. What will 
 you take to give up that letter ? You had better be moderate. I 
 I am not very rich ; still I have some money. Remember, no one 
 else is likely to buy your wares.' 
 
 4 You're making a mistake, miss," said Susan. ' I may be a poor 
 servant girl, but I have my ideas of right and wrong for all that. 
 No money that you nor yet no one else, if it was the Queen herself, 
 was to offer would make me part with that letter, except to the 
 proper quarter. I'm not to be tempted, miss, so you may make up 
 your mind to that.' 
 
 "NYhat might have been a genuine burst of honest indignation
 
 398 THE PAEIAH 
 
 was spoiled by the malignity that was apparent in every word ; yet 
 Margot quailed and felt rebuked for the moment. 
 
 ' You must hate me very much, Susan,' she said in a low voice. 
 ' I wonder why.' 
 
 ' If I hate you,' was the reply,' ' which I don't say whether I do 
 or don't, I've reason enough for it. You think because you're good- 
 looking, you're everybody and everythink. You'll have to be taught 
 that right's right and wrong's wrong for you the same as everybody 
 else. "Who are you and your family, I'd like to know, that master's 
 only son should be made to seem a thief and turned out to beg or 
 starve to keep you from disgrace ? If he's fool enough to let him- 
 self be plotted against and turned round your finger, I'm not, and 
 I'll see justice done before many hours are over, I can tell you, 
 miss, whether you like it or not, if you went on your knees to me 
 to make me shut my mouth ! ' 
 
 ' That I shall certainly not do,' said Margot. ' You are a bad 
 girl, and you are doing this, not because you love justice, or even 
 money, but because you hate me. I can see that, and I am not 
 foolish enough to try to soften you. But I suppose even though 
 you do hate me, you are not quite blind to your own interests, when 
 you need not sacrifice the one to the other, so I am going to propose 
 a bargain. I do not wish this to be known just yet not till my 
 mother is here, which will be in two or three days at the furthest. 
 For every day that passes before Mr. Chadwick knows the truth, I 
 will give you ten shillings you see, that leaves you perfectly free 
 to turn informer when you chose, only you can enjoy your revenge 
 a little longer and earo money by it at the same time. If you re- 
 fuse, you will be stupid, but that is your own affair.' 
 
 She might have been discussing some question of toilette, so 
 calm was her manner, though her hands were twisting convulsively 
 in her lap. But her voice and her eyes were full of an indomitable 
 spirit and a consummate disdain which had some effect even upon 
 Susan, though avarice had a greater. 
 
 ' I can try it, Miss, for a day or two, and see how it works,' she 
 said, with more respect. ' I'm sure it's not my wish to make 
 things more unpleasant than need be ' 
 
 'That will do,' said Miss Chevening. 'You can go. I don't 
 want you near me any longer.' 
 
 When Susan had got out of the room she realised that her 
 triumph had lacked completeness after all. She had not had the 
 satisfaction of seeing her young mistress at her feet ; she had not 
 even wrung any appeal for mercy from those proud lips which 
 naturally increased her hate. Still, she would see her low enough 
 before long, and in the meantime, there was no harm in getting 
 what she could, in case the more substantial reward she hoped for 
 should prove illusory. 
 
 Margot did not see Nugent the next day ; but the day after that 
 ghe met him coming out of the Vicarage. ' You have not kept your 
 promise,' she said ; ' but perhaps you were on your way to me ? '
 
 GAINING TIME 899 
 
 ' I tried yesterday,' he said, ' and I I could not it was too 
 much ... so soon ! ' 
 
 ' Let us begin our penance now, then not that you have com- 
 mitted any sin. We must, Nugent. Miss Momber is looking at us 
 over her window-blinds. If we separate here, it will arouse her 
 suspicions at once you owe so much to me ! ' 
 
 ' I have promised my mother to meet Mrs. Melladew at the 
 station and bring her back to lunch,' he said, in a constrained voice. 
 He was looking worn and haggard, as if he had not slept much of 
 late. 
 
 ' Mrs. Melladew 1 ' exclaimed Margot, and a new light, almost a 
 hope, shone in her eyes. ' I had forgotten. Nugent, let me come 
 with you. I must see her alone you will let me, will you not ? ' 
 
 ' Of course,' he said drearily, and they walked towards' the 
 Station Road together, silent for what could he say to her, or she 
 to him that was not better unsaid now ? She dreaded him as an 
 embodied conscience ; he saw beneath the fan- and seductive mask 
 a prodigy of unscrupulous, impenitent selfishness, and each read 
 the other's thoughts. Only once he spoke, ' Has that woman acted 
 yet ? ' he asked. 
 
 1 Not yet. I think I have persuaded her to give me a little 
 longer.' 
 
 ' You are wrong to leave it to her to speak.' 
 
 I You have the remedy in your own hands.' 
 
 I 1 hope,' he said ; ' I hope to heaven you will not drive me to 
 use it I ' 
 
 ' I cannot answer for what you may think fit to do, of course.' 
 
 That was all that passed between them, except that now and 
 then they met persons they knew, a jovial country gentleman on 
 his cob, or a well-meaning farmer or village-wife, who little guessed 
 how mal a propos were their jokes and compliments. On the plat- 
 form, while they were waiting for the train, Nugent spoke again. 
 ' Tell me only this, Margot, why are you so anxious to see this Mrs. 
 Melladew just now, and alone ? ' 
 
 She turned her head away. ' I will tell you nothing nothing 
 any more,' she said ; ' what is the use ? ' 
 
 ' Does she know anything about that letter ? ' 
 
 1 Perhaps. It is enough, or ought to be enough, that I wish to 
 gee her. If you have any regard for me left at all, you will help 
 me, not hinder me.' 
 
 The train came in and Mrs. Melladew a mucii older and more 
 careworn looking person than the sentimental, flighty-headed 
 Camilla of old got out of it. As she recognised Margot, she 
 seemed confused, uncertain what to do, but the girl met her with a 
 cool decision. 
 
 ' Camilla, I heard you were corning, and I persuaded Mr. Orme 
 to bring me to meet you. I have something to say to you in pri- 
 vate let us walk a little way down this lane, and Mr. Orme will 
 wait here till we come back.'
 
 100 THE PARIAH 
 
 Nugent waited with such patience as he conld command. It 
 seemed an endless time before they returned, hut at length he saw 
 them coming down the lane. 
 
 Margot seemed to be pleading, retracting, extenuating something 
 she had said. Mrs. Melladew was flushed and trembling with in- 
 dignation ; she went straight to where he stood. 
 
 ' Mr. Orme,' she began excitedly, ' before I go with you to the 
 Vicarage I want to know this : has Miss Chevening dared to tell 
 you that I ? ' 
 
 ' Camilla, stop ! ' said Margot, interposing with pale face and 
 burning hazel eyes. ' Control yourself. I have not said a word 
 indeed I have not 1 I I made a mistake. I beg your pardon 
 what more can I do ? ' 
 
 ' I assure you, Mrs. Melladew, that I have not been told any- 
 thing. If you will allow me I would rather remain in ignorance of 
 your conversation,' said Orme stiffly. 
 
 ' Yes, yes,' said Margot eagerly. ' Pray, Camilla, pray let us 
 forget it ! ' 
 
 ' You never liked me ! ' returned Mrs. Melladew, on the verge 
 of tears, ' and now when goodness knows I find it hard enough to 
 make a living ! you try to take away my character, to make me 
 own to things I never did no, nor dreamed of doing ! I had no 
 reason for getting rid of that poor young man why should I ? ' 
 
 ' I accuse you of nothing,' put in Margot. ' Why will you be so 
 unreasonable ? Have I not owned I was wrong ? ' 
 
 ' Ah, you are afraid you dare not face me out ! Look at her, 
 Mr. Orme ; don't trust her, she is false and wicked she would do 
 anything to save her pride, and once I used to wish myself in her 
 place. I would not be now for anything in the world.' 
 
 ' You are only telling Mr. Orme what he knows already,' said 
 Miss Chevening. 
 
 ' Mrs. MellaXlew,' Orme broke in, ' don't let us make this scene 
 more painful than it is already. I I have been obliged to hear 
 lately many things that that have changed my life. I wish to 
 know no more. Let us forget this, and let me take you up to the 
 vicarage.' 
 
 ' No,' she said ; ' I can't now. I have been too much upset. 
 Tell Mrs. Orme anything you please, that I missed my train, if you 
 like. I will write and fix another day, but now I will go back at 
 once.' 
 
 A train was just coming in, and she was able to carry out her in- 
 tention, neither of the other two dissuading her. ' Margot,' she said, 
 as they went towards the station, ' I always felt I behaved badly to 
 poor dear Ida, in deceiving and leaving her as I did. My only 
 excuse is that I was in love foolishly in love. But you at least 
 cannot reproach me. No, I won't shake hands with you. I hope I 
 shall never see or hear of you again you are a wicked and dan- 
 
 ferous girl, but you will be punished some day. I think you must 
 e punished already 1 '
 
 GAINING TIME 401 
 
 Orme heard this, and also saw the effect it had upon Margot, 
 who stood there without attempting to reply, looking miserable and 
 even humiliated enough, hut unrepentant still. Yet if her offence 
 had heen anything less, his heart would have softened to her then 
 that look of lonely, half-defiant misery only seemed to make her 
 lovelier. Again he wondered how hardness and deceit could put 
 on so fair an outside, that even now, when he saw her as she was, 
 desperately striving to put off exposure by the most reckless and 
 hopeless expedients even now all her charm had not perished for 
 him. 
 
 When they were alone together, he said earnestly, ' Can't you 
 see that it is hopeless that you are only injuring yourself by what 
 you are doing ? ' 
 
 ' Nugent,' she answered, ' don't preach. If I choose to injure 
 myself, that does not concern you any more. I will not admit that 
 it is hopeless not yet.' 
 
 ' It is hopeless even if you had gained your object (I do not 
 ask to know what it was) with Mrs. Melladew, even if you could 
 bribe that girl Susan to spare you, you will not silence me, Margot. 
 The wrong you have made Allen bear shall not go on, that I swear. 
 His father must and shall be told the truth.' 
 
 She turned upon him her eyes ablaze with anger. ' Do you 
 mean that you will break your word, and tell him now ? Nugent, 
 if you do, I shall hate you. I very nearly hate you now, when you, 
 are so righteous and bitter against me ; but if you do that, I shall 
 quite hate you ! ' 
 
 ' I am not in the habit of breaking my word,' he said coldly. 
 ' I promised to wait. I wish if you knew how I wish ! that you 
 may save me from an odious duty ; but when the time is up, if you 
 have not spoken, I will speak. I cannot help it if that makes me 
 hateful to you.' 
 
 ' It is only time that I want,' she said more gently ; ' only time. 
 I cannot no, Nugent, I cannot go to my step-father myself. Oh ! ' 
 and she lifted her face to him with a sudden impulsive appeal that 
 was well-nigh irresistible, ' if I was to tell you what excuses there 
 are for me ; why I acted as as I have acted ; what I fear now 
 would you forgive me, Nugent ? Would you think better of me ? 
 If I could only believe that, I would try once more ! ' 
 
 ' You made excuses to me before,' he said, ' and they were false. 
 I believed them then ; I was too ready to believe when it was 
 you who spoke. You drove that poor fellow from his home, you 
 prevented him from coming back, you would have kept his inno- 
 cence a secret even now if you could, you are still scheming to avoid 
 acknowledging the truth. Nothing you can say will alter or excuse 
 that even if ' 
 
 ' Even if you believed it,' she continued for him. ' Yes, I see, 
 Nugent, it is really all over. I saw it in your face that evening, 
 and then I resolved that it would be useless to try to move you. 
 Why did I forget just now ! Yes, you have lost faith in me, nothing 
 
 D D
 
 402 THE PARIAH 
 
 will ever bring that back again. I have failed and I deserve to fail. 
 Now let us part. I thought I could bear being with you, but the 
 strain is too heavy for me, people must think what they like ! I 
 will not see you again until until you come to do your duty in 
 exposing me, unless I send for you first, and then, for the sake of 
 old times, Nugent, you will not refuse to come to me. Leave me 
 here to go on alone it is better for us both ! ' 
 
 He stood aside, and watched her as she passed on along the 
 road, her step as light and graceful as ever, her head proudly erect, 
 much as he had seen her on the Trouville plage on just such an 
 August day as this two years ago, before he had ever spoken to her 
 or seen her face. 
 
 And now he wished with all his soul that he and she had never 
 met, that he had been spared the mockery of a love, happiness, and 
 faith which endured so brief a space and had such an ending as 
 
 this. 
 
 ****** 
 
 The days passed on somehow. Mrs. Chadwick was taking her 
 homeward journey by easy stages, without having indicated, per- 
 haps intentionally, any place on her route to which letters might be 
 addressed. On Margot the dreaded blow had not fallen as yet, 
 thanks to the piece of gold which Susan found every night upon her 
 mistress's dressing-table, and which was accepted without comment 
 on either side. Chadwick was surly at his wife's repeated delays, 
 but nursed his wrath, in company with the spirit-decanters, till her 
 return. Margot had to go on playing her part, to disarm the curi- 
 osity of the neighbours, at tennis parties, or at church, to bear 
 herself as if she were not oppressed at all times by a terrible dread 
 of what was happening at home. Often, in sheer despair, she was 
 tempted to reveal all she knew, but the consequences appalled her. 
 At last, the precanousness of her position became grimly familiar, 
 she even forgot it at times had she not, she would have gone mad. 
 It is possible enough that Damocles himself began to recognise 
 some flavour in the viands before the last course had been served. 
 
 And now her suspense was nearly at its natural end. To- 
 morrow was the day which Nugent had fixed as the limit of his 
 silence : that very morning Mrs. Chadwick had telegraphed from 
 Paris that she expected to arrive, with Ida, Guy, and Eeggie, at 
 Agra House late in the evening. 
 
 Margot was sitting in the great drawing-room with Lettice, 
 whose gleeful impatience planted the last thorn in her sister's heart, 
 waiting for the travellers to arrive ; the carriage had already gone 
 down to meet them, every sound from the front of the house seemed 
 to be its returning wheels. 
 
 They had come at last. Lettice had run out to greet them. 
 Margot, sick and faint, stood a moment in the room, irresolute, 
 before following her into the hall. 
 
 Her mother did not see her at first, she was too busy in giving
 
 GAINING TIME 403 
 
 directions and asking questions in the intervals of kissing Lettice, 
 who had thrown herself into her arms. 
 
 ' Why, Lettie, you look quite a different child ; all the pretty 
 roses back again 1 I knew you would get well here sooner than at 
 Hornburg ; and mother hasn't forgotten you, darling ! The brown 
 portmanteau and bag to go into the blue room, Masterman, please, 
 and be careful with my trunks. Guy, dear, this is not Hawleigh, 
 you know, but we will try to make you comfortable here. Margot, 
 you quite frightened me, coming out like a ghost. How are you, 
 sweet one ? We thought of you in Paris such a crossing ! No, 
 not that one ; that's Miss Ida's. Where's Susan ? Tell her to 
 come instantly. Is papa in his study ? Then I'll pop in and see 
 him hefore I go up to my room.' 
 
 Her cheerful airy satisfaction and high good-humour, which 
 even embraced her husband just then, struck Margot as in ghastly 
 contrast with the danger that threatened. 
 
 ' Margot,' complained Ida, pouting, ' you might say something 
 to Guy ; you might look as if you were glad to see us back 
 again ! ' 
 
 There was something almost fierce in the elder sister's caress. 
 ' Glad ! ' she cried. ' Oh, if you knew how I have wanted you 1 
 
 And and Ida, dear, I do hope and pray that you and Guy will ' 
 
 she could not finish her sentence. 
 
 ' That we shall be happy '? ' said Guy, as he wrung Margot's 
 hand, looking very happy and handsome just then. ' No doubt 
 about it, so far as I'm concerned, and she's learning to make the 
 best of a stupid sort of fellow like me ! ' 
 
 ' Oh, Guy ! ' protested Ida. ' I am very, very happy, Margot,' 
 she whispered ; ' so happy that I feel as if it couldn't last. Do you 
 ever feel like that about Nugent '? ' 
 
 Margot did not reply, but her expression showed Ida that some 
 hidden* and terrible grief had entered into her sister's life since they 
 had met last. ' Forgive me, darling, I didn't know,' she added 
 hastily, ' You will tell me about it upstairs won't you ? ' 
 
 ' Yes, yes ! ' said Margot. ' There there are several things I 
 must say, Ida, when we are alone.' 
 
 Reggie, in all the importance of travelled boyhood, was en- 
 larging to Lettice on his Continental experiences. ' It was jolly at 
 that Homburg hotel, I can tell you, Lettie,' he informed her. ' I 
 dined table-d'hote every night it didn't begin till your bedtime. 
 And the Prince of Wales was there part of the time ; I capped him 
 when we met, just as I would one of the masters, you know, and 
 he capped me. I don't think much of Germans, though ; they sell 
 beastly sweets. I like Paris. Guy bought me a stunning bos of 
 soldiers there cavalry charging. Guy's a brick. It was rough in 
 the steamer. Mother and Ida were ill, and even Guy wouldn't 
 answer any questions properly. I wasn't ill in the least. A French 
 lady said I was a regular little English sailor it was more than 
 she was, but she was better just then.' 
 
 D D 2
 
 404 THE PARIAH 
 
 ' Did you have equi-noxious gales, Reggie ? ' asked Lettice, 
 much impressed. 
 
 ' There were gales all the way,' he said. ' They might have 
 been those for all I know ; you would have been sick if you had 
 been there, I can tell you. How's old Yarrow ? ' 
 
 Mrs. Chadwick meanwhile had burst upon her husband. ' Well, 
 Joshua, here we are back again. I hardly thought I could have 
 come on from town to-night, we had such a terribly rough passage ; 
 but I made the effort. I felt I oughtn't to stay away a day longer 
 than I could help. I felt that so very strongly ! ' 
 
 ' Did you ? ' he returned. ' It has taken you a devil of a time 
 to feel it, that's all I can say. "Well, you're back now, and it will 
 be my fault if you get the chance again for some little while. There 
 are some bills I shall want some explanation of from you, Mrs. 
 Chadwick, when you've got over the effects of your journey.' 
 
 ' Joshua ! ' she exclaimed, rather piteously. ' I have been away 
 all this time, and you begin about bills the moment I come home. 
 For goodness' sake, let us try to do without quarrelling for a little 
 while Guy Hotham is here.' 
 
 ' What do I care for Guy Hotham, or Guy anybody ? ' he said. 
 'You've hooked him for your Ida whether you can keep him on 
 the hook is your look-out, not mine. What's he doing here ? Why 
 couldn't he go on to Hawleigh ? ' 
 
 'Because it is too long a drive so late at night,' she replied. 
 ' Joshua, it can't hurt you to be civil to him, particularly as Lady 
 Adela has really taken his engagement better than I expected ; she 
 has asked Ida to stay at Hawleigh next month. Really you might, 
 on this very first night of all, try to take things a little more 
 pleasantly, when they are going so well too ! ' 
 
 ' I'm not going to use violence to the young man, am I ? Keep 
 him out of my way, that's all I ask. I don't want your swell 
 friends here with their cursed haw-haw ways, treating me as if I 
 was my own butler. There, go and take off your things and have 
 some supper it's laid out in the dining-room and don't let any- 
 body come in here and bother me, that's all I ask of you.' 
 
 She was not sorry to escape, and invent some pretext for pre- 
 venting any one, Guy in particular, from encountering her husband 
 that evening, as his condition was obvious enough. But even this 
 did not damp her spirits very greatly, and at supper she was very 
 much the most cheerful of the party. 
 
 At length Ida rose, declaring she could not keep awake any 
 longer, and Margot accompanied her. At the door of her room, 
 Ida offered to say good-night, but Margot declined to accept the 
 hint. ' I am coming in with you for a few minutes, dear,' she said 
 gravely. 
 
 ' But I am really so awfully sleepy, Margot I ' protested Ida, 
 yawning to give effect to her words. ' Won't what you have to tell 
 me wait till to-morrow ? ' 
 
 1 No,' said Margot ; ' it has waited too long already.'
 
 GAINING TIME 405 
 
 Ida yielded rather pettishly, evidently without suspecting the 
 nature of Margot's communication, and fearing, weary as she was 
 with travelling, to be bored by demands on her sympathy for her 
 sister's trials. 
 
 ' Well,' she said, ' come in, then, but you must not stay more 
 than five minutes, or I shall fall asleep in the middle of it.' 
 
 The two sisters were together for a much longer time than five 
 minutes that night, but in the course of the interview Ida heard 
 that which effectually removed all tendency to drowsiness. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 THE COURAGE OF DESPAIR. 
 
 IF Margot found the suspense almost beyond her power to endure, 
 it was not less terrible to Nugent Orme. Perhaps it was even more 
 so, for she did occasionally succeed in shaking off the oppression of 
 it he, never. Millicent was still the only person at the Vicarage 
 who knew that their engagement was at an end, and she was 
 ignorant of the real cause, which he could not bring himself to tell 
 her. Her great love for him inspired her with an unaccustomed 
 tact in treating what she recognised as a sorrow which could bear 
 no speech as yet. She summoned all her ingenuity to prevent her 
 father and mother from noticing that anything was amiss, devising 
 pretexts which should enable Nugent to be away for the greater 
 part of every day without exciting their remark, and shielding him 
 in countless ways when he was with them. 
 
 This, the Vicar's easy-going indolence, which made him rarely 
 observant of anything that was not forced upon his notice, and his 
 wife's absorption in parish work, rendered easy enough. Millicent 
 abstained from all questioning of her brother, notwithstanding a 
 natural desire to know whether the determination to part had come 
 from him or Margot. At first, she had regarded Margot as a heart- 
 less flirt, who had chosen to captivate Nugent from sheer love of 
 admiration, and dismissed him as soon as she was weary of his 
 devotion, but that was only at first, and now, when reflection had 
 made her almost certain that Nugent had discovered something 
 that justified her own charge against Miss Chevening, she felt no 
 triumph. Her original distrust of Margot had given way ; when 
 the intimacy between them had been renewed, she had been unable 
 to resist the fascination of her beautiful friend, and whatever fault 
 she had committed, she pitied, and would have been sincerely 
 rejoiced to find excuses for her. 
 
 But Nugent evidently saw none, and had no hope of doing so ; 
 all her efforts to see Margot were repulsed ; she could only wait 
 and try to comfort herself with the thought that the disillusion, if 
 it was to come, had not come too late.
 
 406 THE PARIAH 
 
 "What Nugent, suffered lie cliose to suffer alone, and as the 
 dreaded day drew nearer, and still there was no sign that Margot 
 repented or intended to make any act of reparation, his mental 
 torture grew more acute. 
 
 He shrank with loathing from the odious duty that might soon 
 devolve upon him ; he had pledged himself in a certain event to 
 make disclosures which must expose the woman he loved to dis- 
 grace. "Why had he done so ? How much easier to hold aloof, to 
 leave Allen's rehabilitation to fate or chance ! But if Margot would 
 not speak, if she succeeded in silencing any one who was able to 
 denounce her, then Allen must surely be doomed to sink into lower 
 depths from which it would be too late to rescue him even now 
 the horrible injustice of which he was the victim might be irre- 
 mediable. 
 
 To be silent for the sake of sparing Margot's feelings would be 
 conniving at a moral, if not an actual murder. He had not the 
 right to spare her, and yet oh, God, if something might intervene 
 at the eleventh hour to save him from taking action ! 
 
 It seemed that his prayer was not to be granted ', the morning 
 came of the day which, before it closed, would decide whether he 
 was equal or not to the task he had set himself. He would delay 
 acting to the latest possible moment, do nothing till evening, and 
 then he would go up to Agra Hoose, and if Chadwick had not 
 learnt the truth by that time, nothing should prevent him from 
 speaking. 
 
 So he had decided as he sat under the cedar, feeling chilled to 
 the marrow, though the sun was blazing down 011 the lawn, when 
 he saw Guy Hotham coming towards him through the open window. 
 He had already heard overnight of the return, and as he went to 
 meet him now, he saw from Guy's untroubled countenance and the 
 heartiness of his greeting that nothing of a painful nature had 
 occurred as yet. 
 
 ' Awfully glad to see you again, old fellow ! ' began Guy. ' You're 
 looking rather seedy, though ; you've been sticking to that beastly 
 Lincoln's Inn too long. Well, you mustn't be in a hurry to get 
 back just yet awhile, that's all. Of course you've heard it's all 
 right about Ida and me ? . . . thanks, I knew you'd be pleased 
 about it. I do think I'm the luckiest beggar in the whole world 
 the Mater's come round, got a letter in Paris, asking Ida over to 
 Hawleigh that was old Aunt Julia ! So we are going to be 
 brothers-in-law after all that reminds me, I've a note for you from 
 Margot somewhere. Ah, hero it is ! ' Orrne hurriedly read the 
 note, which contained only these words : ' I want to see you alone, 
 at once ; yoii will find me at the small gate. Margot.' 
 
 He went back at once with Guy, who was overtlowing with high 
 spirits and eager to return to see Ida. ' I haven't seen her since 
 last night,' he said, ' she's rather knocked up by the journey and 
 didn't come down to breakfast she's not strong, poor little girl, 
 but she'll be down by this time, I daresay. Here we are at the
 
 THE COURAGE OF DESPAIR 407 
 
 gate, and there's Margot herself waiting for you hope you're 
 flattered ! I'll go round the other way, eh ? " fellow-feeling " now, 
 you know. Good-bye till lunch.' 
 
 Orme advanced to meet Margot alone: her eyes looked very 
 large and bright as she stood there, her lips were parted, one of her 
 beautiful hands was pressed closely against her side, the other was 
 dry and burning as he took it. She tried in vain to speak. 
 
 ' You have sent for me, Margot,' he said. ' Is it known yet ? ' 
 
 She shook her head : ' You said you would speak to him your- 
 self,' she faltered, with difficulty. ' Did you mean that, Nugent ? ' 
 
 His heart hardened against her. ' I did,' he answered, ' I in- 
 tend to speak to-night, if I must. Don't try to persuade me against 
 it it will be no good, Margot.' 
 
 ' I ^uant you to speak,' she said, ' that is why I sent for you. I 
 want you to go and tell him now \ ' 
 
 "When a man has strung himself to undergo a certain ordeal, any 
 modification in the conditions which he has pictured to himself for 
 it beforehand is apt to increase his reluctance. Orme had imagined 
 the scene as taking place some hours later, with the dusk to serve 
 as a screen between Chadwick and himself. To go through it in 
 broad daylight, within the next few minutes, was more than he felt 
 prepared for just then. 
 
 ' Must it be now ? ' he said. 
 
 ' At once,' she repeated impetuously, ' that girl is growing sus- 
 picious, she will wait no longer. If it must come, I I would rather 
 it came from you.' 
 
 ' Is there no other way ? ' he cried. ' Margot it sounds like 
 empty extravagance, but it is true that I would rather die here this 
 instant than be the means of bringing this upon you tell me you 
 believe that ! ' 
 
 She smiled sadly, a little bitterly. ' I do believe it,' she said, 
 ' you are following what you consider your duty what is your 
 duty. I don't blame you. I even wish you to do it only for God's 
 sake, do it now ; let me know the worst at once. He is in his 
 study, alone go to him there 1 ' 
 
 ' Think first,' he urged her ; ' cannot you find courage to tell 
 him yourself ? You know that I say this for your own sake, not 
 mine. I will go with you, help you, protect you if that is necessary 
 but indeed it will be better for you to accuse yourself.' 
 
 She covered her face with her hands for a moment. ' I I can- 
 not,' she said. ' I have not strength enough for that. I will come 
 with you. I meant to do that if you will let me . . . you shall 
 stand between him and me, but more than that no, Nugent, you 
 must not ask too much of me ! ' 
 
 1 Come then,' he said, ' and God help us both, Margot ! ' 
 
 They passed through the cool fragrant hall ; at the door of Chad- 
 wick's study she faltered for the first time, and he feared she was 
 about to faint, but she thrust back his arm with a blind gesture of 
 refusal, and they went in.
 
 408 THE PARIAH 
 
 Chadwick was reading an Indian journal, which now formed his 
 sole literature ; a glass of brandy and soda stood at his elbow, the 
 windows of the room were closed, and the air was heavy with 
 recent cigar smoke. Margot sank down in a window-seat, looking 
 out on the trim lawn and the ribbon-planted beds, over which yellow 
 butterflies were gaily fluttering. 
 
 ' Well, Orme,' said Chadwick, who did not seem to be in one of 
 his dangerous moods just then, ' you haven't honoured us by looking 
 in much lately. I don't know if that's the way courting is done 
 nowadays, but when I was a young man however, if Miss Margot 
 there don't object, it's not for me to say a word. Take a seat, man, 
 it fidgets me to see you standing there like that. This paper here, 
 " The Bengal Planter," says indigo's looking up again ; if that fool 
 of an Allen had been out there now, he might be making lacs and 
 lacs, doubling the value of the concern ah, well, the young scoun- 
 drel chose to throw away all his opportunities, and he's paying for 
 his folly somewhere, I hope ! I've done with him long ago. I 
 don't know why I should talk of him now it isn't because he's 
 anything to me any more ! ' 
 
 'Mr. Chadwick,' began Nugent, ' Margot and I have come in to 
 tell you something something it is necessary that you should be 
 told.' 
 
 ' Phew 1 ' exclaimed Chadwick, with along whistle ; ' what, have 
 you made up your minds to be married at once then ? Well, you 
 must settle that with my wife. I'm nobody here, you know ! ' Not- 
 withstanding, he was clearly pleased at being consulted. 
 
 ' Oh, no no ! ' cried Margot from the window-seat. ' It is not 
 that oh, Nugent, make him understand ! ' 
 
 ' I see,' said Chadwick, ' it's the other way, eh ? Fallen out, 
 have you ? There, again, it's no use coming to me about it I 
 can't make it up between you I ' 
 
 ' Wait till you have heard what we have to tell, it is nothing of 
 that kind. It is something very painful to say, and to hear, some- 
 thing which Margot has had on her mind for a long time and can 
 bear no longer. I am here to speak for her ; you can see that she 
 is in no condition to speak for herself.' 
 
 ' Go on, sir,' said Chadwick, ' I'm listening to you, though I'm 
 d d if I know what's coming.' 
 
 ' Her secret is connected with your son Allen. You sent him 
 away from home under the belief that he had attempted a robbery. 
 He was perfectly innocent of any idea of robbery. What he did wus 
 in consequence of instructions he had received.' 
 
 ' Do you know what you're saying, sir ? You're implying that 
 I have been fool enough to believe my son a scoundrel, when 
 when he was nothing of the kind ; at my age, and with niy own son 
 too ! Why, if I believed that but I see through it. I'm too old a 
 hand to be taken in that way. It's a dodge of the pair of you to get 
 me to forgive that boy. Now you listen to me : if you know where 
 he is, you can tell him that if he likes to come to me and own up
 
 THE COURAGE OF DESPAIR 409 
 
 like a man, I may have something to say to him -but you'll never 
 get round me by any d d trumped-up cock and bull stories which 
 a child wouldn't swallow, you tell him that ! . . . Who is it now, 
 Susan, eh ? Well, get what you came for and go away ; don't you 
 see we're engaged, woman ? ' 
 
 ' I beg your pardon, sir, I'm sure, but if you're engaged in talk- 
 ing about Mr. Allen, you may find it to your advantage to hear 
 what I've got to say first,' said Susan respectfully, as she stood just 
 inside the study. ' I think you're more likely to hear the truth 
 from me than from some parties that could be named.' 
 
 ' Stop, sir ! ' said Nugent. ' Let this woman tell her story after- 
 wards, when you have heard us ; you will find the two accounts 
 agree.' 
 
 ' Shall I ? I'm not so sure of that ! ' returned Chadwick, with a 
 muddled kind of cunning. ' If I did, it would only prove you were 
 all of a tale and wouldn't alter my opinion. But I mean to put a 
 few quiet questions to her before I go any farther. Now, you Susan, 
 what have you been put up to say about Mr. Allen, eh? Out 
 with it.' 
 
 ' I haven't been put up to say nothing, sir ; and there's two 
 now standing in this room would have been glad enough to shut 
 my mouth if I'd been willing, but willing I was not.' 
 
 ' Don't, Nugent, don't ! ' said Margot disdainfully, as he was 
 about to make some indignant protest ; ' let her go on, what does it 
 matter now ? ' 
 
 ' It may be news to you, sir,' continued Susan, now secure of a 
 hearing, ' that Mr. Allen was back here not many nights ago, in this 
 very garden.' 
 
 ' I thought as much ! ' said Chadwick ; ' so that was how you 
 came to hatch up this whitewashing story of yours ? ' he added, 
 turning to Margot, who was powerless to reply. 
 
 ' In course, sir,' said Susan, ' I don't know what Miss Margot 
 may have told you, or what she hasn't. P'raps she told you how 
 she sent him away, saying she couldn't do nothing to clear him, 
 and it warn't not safe to go near you just then ? P'raps she men- 
 tioned about his bringing out an old letter of hers, telling him how 
 he was to go to her room and take out her locket, and sell it, and send 
 the money to her, and about her tearing up the letter, and daring 
 him to do his worst ? ' 
 
 ' I did not ! ' cried Margot. ' Nugent, you will not believe that ? 
 Ah, my God, you do, you do 1 ' 
 
 ' Considering that I picked up these very pieces a few minutes 
 after,' said Susan, ' Mr. Nugent would be hard put to it not to 
 believe it, though he did pretend to when I came to him and asked 
 him to speak up for Mr. Allen. Yes, sir, I've had to act all by my- 
 self, for I knew as no one else wasn't likely to. Poor Mr. Allen, sir, 
 has been made a scapegoat of by them as should have known better, 
 and as wouldn't have spoke now and how far they meant to tell 
 the whole truth and nothing but the truth, that I leave to their own
 
 410 THE PAKIAH 
 
 hearts and consciences to say but not a word would ha' passed 
 their lips, true or false, but for knowing I had evidence, and the 
 will to use it. I don't expect no thanks, beyond seeing Mr. Allen 
 given back his rightful place, and her as drove him out and kep' 
 him out known for what she is, and here's the evidence, sir, which 
 I leave it to you to judge whether I'm telling you lies or not ! ' 
 And Susan brought out the fatal letter from tinder her apron, 
 smoothed it carefully out, and placed it before Chadwick. ' It's 
 got a little rubbed, sir,' she said apologetically, ' and the paste 
 shows in places, but you can make out the writing all the same.' 
 
 Chadwick sat in a sort of stupor ; the satisfaction he had felt 
 with his own acuteness had vanished long since, his brain, drugged 
 and bemused by constant excesses, was still grappling with these 
 new and scarcely conceivable ideas that had been so rudely pre- 
 sented to it. 
 
 ' Very well,' he said at length, fixing his glowing eyes on the 
 girl, ' you've told your story now you can go, do you hear ? Be 
 quick about it ! ' 
 
 Unwilling as Susan was, she had to obey, and when she had 
 closed the door, Chadwick, with hands that trembled from other 
 causes than drink, took up the letter, and read it slowly, while 
 Margot, as she sat there, felt as if her heart must burst if the 
 intolerable strain were to be much longer continued. 
 
 At last he looked up, his face purple and congested with the 
 anger he was striving to keep down sufficiently to remain articu- 
 late. ' So,' he said to Margot, ' I've been tricked into turning 
 against my own boy, have I ? The only child I had of my own 
 and it was your doing ! You took advantage of his being a fool, 
 and used him as your catspaw or, as likely as not, sent him this 
 precious letter as a trap to get him out of your way ! You kept 
 him quiet to the very end, you found ways of shutting his mouth ; 
 but that wasn't enough for you, you weren't contented till he was 
 out of the house. You told me in this very room God ! I can 
 hear you now that it was "better that he should go." Better! 
 ah, and you knew why it was better ! And he and I went up to 
 London together, and all the time I was with him, there was I 
 treating him like a dog, and he never let on, never said a word to 
 show me what I was doing. But he ran away ; I don't wonder at 
 it, poor devil 1 And when he came back,' Chadwick continued, 
 almost choking now with rage, ' when he came back, that did not 
 please your ladyship, so you cheated, and lied, and fooled him into 
 going off again to starve and rot in the gutter for all you cared I 
 You thought when the letter was once torn up it would tell no tales, 
 and you went on as calm and haughty as ever, lecturing me on my 
 goings on, and ruling the house, as if you were its guardian angel, 
 instead of what you are. Why, even the poor ignorant coolie girls 
 out where I've been, if they could understand what you'd done, 
 would spit in your face. And now, when the game's up, you come 
 in, quite cool and collected, and tell me just as little as you safely
 
 THE COURAGE OF DESPAIR 411 
 
 can, and think that will end the matter ! As for you, sir,' he added 
 turning round on Orme, ' I don't know what you think of yourself, 
 but I know very well what I think of you : you've lent yourself to 
 
 all this, you've done your best to hush up a ' 
 
 Here Margot rose and came forward unsteadily. ' Say what 
 you choose to me,' she said, ' it is just . . . but you insult Nugent 
 when you join him with me. He knew nothing till a few days 
 ago. Ever since he did know, he has never left off urging me to 
 tell you all, and I I could not till now, when I was too late.' 
 
 ' Too late ! Yes, you are too late to better your own case. If I 
 was wrong about Orme, I am sorry ; it's something to know you 
 haven't succeeded in making a fool of him at all events. Now 
 mark what I say, I'll take good care that all your fine friends in 
 the county shall hear what you are, and what you are not ashamed 
 to do; if they like to associate with you after that, they're a less 
 particular set than I take them for. But I want to know more 
 about it before I go any further. If Orme hasn't been with you in 
 this, who lias ? Who put it into your head to ruin that boy ? 
 "Was your mother at the bottom of it ? Answer me, for I'll find out 
 somehow, and, if she was, I'll make her repent it, by Heaven I 
 will!' 
 
 Margot threw out her hands in passionate protest. ' Mother ! ' 
 she cried, ' why do you suspect her of being so wicked, what has 
 she done to be accused of this ? She knew nothing, no more than 
 you did ; she knows nothing still. Oh, you must believe that, it is 
 the simple truth. Must I tell you again and again that that there 
 is only one person you have the right to punish, and that person 
 is I! ' 
 
 As she ceased speaking, the library door opened once more and 
 Guy appeared. ' Not interrupting you, I hope ? ' he said briskly. 
 ' I thought Ida might be in here, perhaps ? ' 
 
 ' No, Guy, no,' said Margot, ' she is not down yet, she is unwell, 
 and and we are engaged . . . please, please go away ! ' 
 
 ' Here, Hotharn, don't you go ! ' Chadwick called out, with a 
 savage laugh, ' you've a right to know all about it, now you're one 
 of the family ; come in, and shut the door. I should be glad of your 
 opinion.' Guy came in, his cheery face suddenly growing troubled. 
 ' I don't know if you'll recollect a boy of mine that used to be 
 hanging about ? ' Chadwick resumed ; ' a rough ungentlemanly cub 
 he was, you wouldn't notice him most likely ? ' 
 
 ' I remember your son, sir, perfectly,' said Guy. ' He went out 
 to India some time ago, didn't he ; no bad news of him, I hope ? ' 
 
 ' I sent him out to India because I found him out in what I 
 believed was downright theft. I've just discovered that, as it hap- 
 pened, he was as honest as the day all the tune, and there was 
 someone else who knew it at the time, a women too, and could 
 have saved him by a word, but she had an axe of her own to grind 
 and she said nothing she let him go. What should you think of 
 a woman who could do a thing like that, now ? '
 
 412 THE PARIAH 
 
 ' Think ? ' said Guy. ' What any man would think. It was one 
 of the servants, then the girl, I suppose, I saw coming out of this 
 room just now ? ' 
 
 ' That's you aristocrats all over ! ' said Chadwick. ' If a dirty 
 action's done, of course it must he one of the lower classes who did 
 it ! Well-bred, handsome ladies and gentlemen couldn't possibly 
 do anything shabby. But, however it may surprise you, it wasn't 
 Susan or any low housemaid or servant at all. Ask Margot there 
 to tell you who it was ! ' 
 
 Guy half turned to Margot, who suddenly hid her face. ' Good 
 God ! ' he said in a low voice, ' is it possible ? ' 
 
 ' Ah ! it's strange, isn't it, but possible just barely possible, as 
 you see. Look at her, Hotham, that is the young lady to whom 
 you will be related some day, that is, if this doesn't alter your 
 plans, as I expect it will when you've heard the whole story.' 
 
 Guy had never had a very hearty liking for Margot, whom he 
 suspected, unjustly enough, of looking down upon him. But as he 
 saw her there, bowed down under her shame and her stepfather's 
 coarse abuse, his chivalry was roused and he could feel only lenient. 
 
 ' I don't know quite what Miss Chevening has done,' he said 
 haughtily, ' or whether I should blame her if I heard the whole 
 story, but, however bad it might be, it could not possibly affect me, 
 as far as Ida is concerned. I shall marry Ida, and not her family.' 
 
 Margot caught his hand in eager gratitude. ' Guy ! ' she cried, 
 ' I knew you would say that, but God bless you for saying so ... 
 God bless you for not turning against her, because of me ! And 
 indeed she would not deserve it, and it would break her heart, for 
 she loves you very dearly, Guy ! ' 
 
 ' There ! ' he said, feeling greatly embarrassed by the scene and 
 anxious to escape from it, ' don't be afraid, Margot, I I'm not 
 that sort of fellow, and I daresay,' he added awkwardly, ' there's a 
 mistake somewhere. I'd better leave you to clear it up, I think ! ' 
 And he got out of the room with an evident desire to know no 
 more, 
 
 ' Clear it up ? ' said Chadwick, when he had gone. ' It shall be 
 cleared up with a vengeance ; it's something to find that even yoiir 
 beloved swells do draw the line somewhere. What are you made 
 of, I wonder, to stand there as straight and proud as ever, when 
 you ought to be grovelling on the ground for shame, you stubborn, 
 false-faced she-devil ! ' 
 
 Orme had been standing apart all this time, not daring to inter- 
 fere lest he should excite Chadwick still further against his step- 
 daughter. And in his heart he felt that this fury was justifiable, 
 that Margot's insensibility to the full baseness of her conduct 
 almost deserved this brutal awakening, but now he could stand no 
 more. 
 
 ' That will do, sir,' he said ; ' you have said enough in all con- 
 science. Margot, let me take you away, there is no reason whj 
 we should stay here any longer.'
 
 THE COURAGE OF DESPAIR 413 
 
 She submitted to be led out of the room and into the hall, like a 
 child. She sat for a moment on one of the couches there and closed 
 her eyes. 
 
 ' Nugent,' she said faintly, ' how you must despise me ! ' 
 
 Orme was very pale. Was it not true ? Had he not indeed 
 despised her and yet the hopelessness of her grief touched his 
 heart so powerfully then that the love he had thought dead stirred, 
 if faintly. He knelt by the couch, and took her hand. 
 
 'Margot!' he said, 'don't say such things don't think them. 
 I cannot leave you here. ... I can't give you up do what I will! 
 Let me take care of you still, dear. . . . Give me the right to take 
 you away out of all this ! ' 
 
 She put him gently aside as she rose. ' It was good of you to 
 offer that,' she said, ' but ah ! Nugent, do you think I cannot see 
 that it was pity that made you say it ? Don't protest you know, 
 and I know, that your love can never be what it once was. And 
 anything less I could not bear pity and forbearance least of all ! 
 No, it is over for both of us it ended that night. Your standard 
 is too high for me ... if I could alter your judgment of me in 
 some respects, there would still be things you could never really 
 pardon, that would make perfect confidence between us impossible 
 always. I would rather be alone all my days than endure the 
 knowledge that my husband could never honour nor trust me in 
 his heart. See, Nugent, I set you free ... it is my wish to be 
 free myself ... so we will say good-bye here for the last time of 
 all, and you must try to think kindly of me, as I shall of you 
 always ! ' 
 
 He saw that her decision was irrevocable ; perhaps even felt 
 the truth of her words, while something in her manner as much as 
 her words told him that a change had taken place in her feelings 
 towards him. Yet it was not relief that he felt then only a bitter 
 realisation, now that he had lost her, of all that she was, would 
 ever be to him. ' Is it really too late ? ' he said impetuously, 
 ' Margot, take time to think, before deciding . . . surely we need 
 one another too much to part ! ' 
 
 ' I need no one any more,' she said. ' I have decided, Nugent. 
 Good-bye.' 
 
 ' Since it must be, then,' he answered, and there, at the foot of 
 the staircase, they parted, calmly on both sides now that parting 
 was seen to be inevitable. 
 
 Nugent went home to the Vicarage, too exhausted and stunned 
 by all he had gone through to be capable of any acute emotion. In 
 a few words he told Millicent what had happened, and that after- 
 noon, feeling that he could bear Gorescombe no longer, he went 
 up to London.
 
 414 THE PARIAH 
 
 CHAPTEE IX. 
 
 MARGOT GOES TO MAKE AMENDS. 
 
 CHADWICK had not attempted to prevent or follow Margot's retreat. 
 As if he felt a rebuke in Orme's remonstrance, he looked on in 
 silence as the two quitted the room. He regretted his burst of 
 passion ; even now, he could not storm at his step-daughter with- 
 out that instant sense of inferiority. Abuse, after all, was a poor 
 revenge he must find more ingenious methods than that ; now he 
 had the whip hand over this disdainful girl, the lash must be applied 
 with all the science at his command. 
 
 His first idea had been to turn her out of the house, as she had 
 caused Allen to be turned out, but this again was unsatisfactory. 
 He wanted her at hand, to assure himself of her disgrace, and to bo 
 able to turn the weapon in the wound from time to time, to watch 
 her sinking slowly under the burden of her expiation. 
 
 Chadwick was no fool, and if drink had dulled his brain in some 
 respects, it heightened and inflamed its capacity for working mis- 
 chief. ' By God, I've got it ! ' he cried, after reflecting for some 
 minutes, and then he rang the bell. ' Tell your mistress I want to 
 see her,' he said ; he was quite calm now. 
 
 Mrs. Chadwick appeared, still in total ignorance of what had 
 occurred, and her husband, in a few terse, bitter sentences, put her 
 in possession of the whole story of her daughter's duplicity and 
 cowardice. The poor woman was at first utterly incredulous, but 
 at length, when unable to resist longer, she began to protest her 
 own innocence and feebly lament her child's misconduct. ' If I had 
 guessed what was going on,' she declared, I should never, never 
 have permitted it ! Even as it was, I felt it was a pity poor Allen 
 should have to go, though I did not like to question your judgment. 
 But Margot always has taken her own way from a child ; she never 
 treated me as a mother. I was not told a word not a single word ! 
 You see, Joshua, I don't take her part now I am ashamed that a 
 daughter of mine should have acted so so disgracefully. I could 
 disown her, I am so deeply annoyed. Joshua, you believe me, don't 
 you ? You don't you don't connect me with this ? ' 
 
 1 No,' said Chadwick, ' don't you be alarmed, Selina, I don't 
 suspect you. Margot wouldn't be as clever as I take her to be if 
 she'd chosen you for a confederate. The question now is what's 
 to be done with her ? and I've been thinking it over, and I've come 
 to a conclusion which I think will meet the case. $0 if you'll go 
 and find her and bring her in to me she'd better come, tell her I 
 can settle what her punishment is to be.' 
 
 After a short delay, his wife returned with Margot. ' I've brought 
 this wicked girl to hear your decision ; she is resigned to any punish-
 
 MARGOT GOES TO MAKE AMENDS 415 
 
 ment you think proper to inflict all I do ask, Joshua, is that you 
 will not expose her publicly.' 
 
 ' Well,' he replied, ' as she's so sensitive when it's her own 
 character that's concerned, I suppose I must make allowances for 
 her. If I did what was just, I should send her away and let the 
 whole county know why. But I want my boy Allen back. I don't 
 believe he'd have let himself be treated as he was if he hadn't had a 
 soft place in his heart as well as his head, and it's likely enough he 
 won't come back at all if he knows his dear, loving, tender-hearted 
 Btep-sister isn't to be here. The first thing to be done is to find tbat 
 boy, and that I'll do ; it's only a question of a little money, he'll be 
 back in a few days from now. And then and then, young lady,' 
 he continued with a gleam of malignity in his blood-tinged eyes, 
 ' we shall have an opportunity of testing your penitence. Your old 
 lover has cast you off I could see that well enough just now. If 
 my boy is willing, after the way you've treated him, to marry you, 
 marry him you shall, or take the consequences ! ' 
 
 Suddenly as this bizarre idea had been conceived, he became 
 more and more enamoured of it. He knew Margot's aversion to 
 Allen would render such a bond between them the most exquisite 
 conceivable punishment to her ; in its coarse materiality he con- 
 sidered the mere possession of such a wife should satisfy Allen. It 
 was nothing to him that neither her character nor her tastes made 
 it probable that such a union would be a happy one. Allen must 
 manage her, break her proud spirit ; if he did not know how to do 
 that with the advantages he would have, he would be a fool indeed, 
 and, in any case, the young fellow would have a wife whom many 
 would envy him. 
 
 ' Margot,' cried her mother, desperately anxious to smooth 
 things over, ' 3 r ou hear what your father is is so generous as to 
 propose ? It is really more much more than you deserve. Tell 
 your father that you are willing to be Allen's wife, if he desires it 
 ... it is the very least you can do now ! ' 
 
 Margot glanced wildly round ; the horror of this unlooked- 
 for announcement almost deprived her of power to think. She 
 felt abandoned in this extremity. Nugent was no longer at her 
 side, she herself had sent him away, find her mother seemed to 
 see nothing hideous and unnatural in this proposition. Must she 
 yield ? Ah ! no, anything sooner than that ; and all at once her 
 face became calm and resolved she had decided w r hat to do. 
 
 ' I I W 7 ant time to consider,' she said, very low, ' let me have 
 till this evening ? ' 
 
 ' Don't be too long about it, then or I may consider too. This 
 evening you'll be good enough to come and inform me what you 
 are pleased to decide.' 
 
 ' You will know before that,' she replied, ' whether from me or 
 not.' And slowly, like one walking in sleep, she glided out of the 
 room. 
 
 Chadwick spazit the afternoon in drawing up advertisements
 
 416 THE PARIAH 
 
 intended to catch Allen's eye, and writing letter after letter to 
 detectives and private inquiry agents, dashing them off in feverish 
 haste, and then destroying them as unsatisfactory for various 
 reasons. 
 
 ' Pah ! ' he said, after composing one of these documents for the 
 twentieth time. ' Why do I worry myself like this, when the 
 chances are I can find out where he is at once '? It's a thousand 
 to one that girl Margot knows ! Why the devil didn't I think of 
 that before ? I've lost a whole afternoon over this ! I believe I'm 
 going off my head with the excitement of it all. I'll go and get 
 this out of Margot now or, stay, I'll send Selina.' 
 
 His wife, after departing to obtain this information, came back 
 into the study with a troubled expression. 
 
 ' Well,' inquired Chadwick, ' where does she say he is ? ' 
 
 ' I think she must be asleep, Joshua. I knocked several times, 
 but I could not make her hear, or get any answer. It is better not 
 to disturb her just yet. perhaps.' 
 
 4 I'll give her another hour,' he said, ' not a minute more.' 
 
 Towards evening he could wait no longer. ' She'll listen when 
 
 I knock,' he said, ' I'll have no more of this d d sulking. I'm 
 
 going myself.' 
 
 His wife followed him upstairs and along the corridor to Mar- 
 got's room ; the children, vaguely conscious of some disturbance in 
 the air, left their tea in the schoolroom and crept up, too, at a dis- 
 tance. Guy himself, who had been hanging about all day in moody 
 indecision, uncertain whether he ought not to leave the house, and 
 yet unwilling to do so without having seen Ida once more, followed 
 too. 
 
 Mrs. Chadwick knocked first, or rather tapped softly. ' Margot, 
 dearest, it is I mother, you will let mother in ! I want to speak 
 to you 1 ' But there was no answer. 
 
 ' Joshua,' she faltered, ' I I don't like this ... if I could only 
 see into the room, but it's all dark . . . she she may have 
 fainted ! ' 
 
 ' I'll soon bring her out of that ! ' answered Chadwick brutally. 
 ' Margot do you hear me ? ' he shouted, ' I've had enough of this 
 folly open the door, I say ! ' 
 
 And he hammered and thundered on the panels with his heavy 
 fists, while Lettice and Keggie began to cry. 
 
 ' Stop that, will you ! ' cried their stepfather savagely, ' how can 
 I hear your sister speak in this din ? there's nothing to cry about.' 
 And again he thundered at the door, and again there was only 
 silence within. 
 
 Another person had joined the group in the corridor ; it was Ida, 
 who, pale and dishevelled, with a loose wrapper thrown over her, 
 had stolen out of her room. 
 
 ' Guy,' she said, ' oh, never mind me, I am better quite well 
 What is it, Guy, Who is this they are trying to awake . . . not 
 not Margot ? *
 
 MAEGOT GOES TO MAKE AMENDS 417 
 
 'I I think it is,' said Guy, trying to speak cheerily, 'it's 
 nothing. Ida ; go back to your room, or you'll be ill again.' 
 
 But Ida refused to move ; she stood there, watching her step- 
 father with a fascinated horror in her eyes. 
 
 ' Margot,' said Chadwick, his voice thick with passion, 'if yon 
 don't open this door directly by heaven I'll break it in !' 
 
 Then Ida rushed forward with a cry : ' Don't speak to her like 
 that ! ' she cried, ' you will be sorry ! . . . Can't you understand ? 
 She cannot hear you any more she will never open . . . she is 
 lying there, dead ! I am sure of it. Oh, Margot, Margot ! ' 
 
 ' Don't talk such cursed nonsense ! ' said Chadwick hoarsely, 
 though he had turned ghastly pale ; ' she's shamming, or sulking. 
 I'll soon see which.' 
 
 In another minute he fetched one of the fire-irons from the 
 opposite room. ' Stand away ! ' he said, and after a few violent 
 blows the panel fell out shattered, but the portiere before the door 
 inside still hid the interior of the room, and no one had courage for 
 a moment to withdraw it. 
 
 The door, which was locked, and from which the key had appa- 
 rently fallen, as it was not in the key-hole, had been shaken by 
 the blows and soon yielded. Then Chadwick flung it back and 
 went in, while the others held their breath in awful expectation. 
 
 He glanced round the dainty room, first in evident fear, then 
 with a reaction of relief and anger combined. 
 
 ' She's made fools of us all ! ' he said ; there's not a sign of her 
 here she's got away 1 ' 
 
 Ida, who had been cowering back in a corner with hidden eyes 
 and a face the colour of chalk, burst into a wild laugh at this. 
 ' She's got away ! you can't catch her ; you can't hurt her now ! ' 
 she cried ; and violent hysterics followed which made it necessary 
 to carry her back into her own room. 
 
 Margot had escaped, and her flight had been easily and simply 
 accomplished. She had collected all her few valuables, and, wait- 
 ing till the hour when the servants were all at dinner, had gone out, 
 drawing the portiere, locking the door behind her, and carrying 
 away the key. Then stealing down by the back staircase, she had 
 gained the stables, where Yarrow canie out of his kennel with a 
 rattle of his chain and a long affectionate whine there was no one 
 else to see her, and, not daring to stop, she passed on and gained a 
 by-road that, by a somewhat circuitous route would, she knew, 
 bring her out by the village of Puddock's End, through which the 
 rail passed, for she feared to be recognised by some of the Gorse- 
 coinbe officials, if she went to the station there. 
 
 And so an hour and a half later, tired and dusty, she stood on 
 the platform at Puddock's End, waiting for the train which, as she 
 had calculated, she was just in time to catch. There were very few 
 there, and if some of them remembered her as the young lady they 
 had seen driving or riding about Gorsecombe, it wag only to wonder 
 
 E K
 
 418 THE PARIAH 
 
 at the eccentricity of gentlefolk in taking a long walk in the heat 
 and dust when they had other means of locomotion, for there is no 
 one more puzzled by voluntary pedestrianisni than the average 
 peasant. 
 
 The London train came up, and, as the carriages rolled by, 
 Margot saw with a spasm of the heart Nugent's face at one of the 
 windows. He did not see her, and she had only a momentary 
 glimpse of his profile, but that showed her a set and stricken face, 
 which had grown older and sterner since the day, only a week ago, 
 when they had ridden together. 
 
 She got into an empty compartment as far away as she could, 
 and, when the train moved off, set herself, as she gazed with eyes 
 that saw nothing on the flitting landscape, to think out her future 
 course. 
 
 She had fled, never to return ; no force, no persuasion should 
 make her marry Allen. The idea revived her dislike and repulsion 
 almost as strongly as if he had won no claims to her gratitude. 
 His claims ? ah ! how she hated them ; how she writhed under 
 the sense of them ; how, in the hard bitterness of her soul just then, 
 she hated him that he had shown himself the worthier ! Yet, thoiigh 
 she was fleeing from him, she was on her way to him. That was 
 the first object for which she had escaped ; she owed him amends, 
 and she would pay him by bringing the news of his restoration in 
 person. He had made a great sacrifice for her ; well, she would 
 thank him, and release him from effacing himself any longer 
 what more was she bound to do V Was it nothing that she should 
 seek him out in his misery, humble herself before him she who 
 had once held her head so high ? If he chose to claim her, to make 
 a merit of what he had done why, that would prove him despic- 
 able indeed, and she would have the right to despise him once more. 
 His sacrifice was she giving up nothing ? He had borne hardships 
 and disgrace for not two years ; he would regain far more now than 
 he had ever lost but she, she had lost lover, home, friends, all that 
 had made her life, and none of this would have been had Allen 
 never existed, or had he even acted with common sense ! No, she 
 could not be grateful, she would not pretend that she was ho 
 could not make her a debtor against her will ! She would acknow- 
 ledge her obligation as fully and freely as he could desire indeed, 
 she must not let him perceive that it was less than he imagined 
 but when she had done that, and proved to him that his father's 
 house was open to him once more, she would have done all 
 that anyone could expect her to do, and her debt would be dis- 
 charged. 
 
 She found herself nearing London with a shivering repugnance ; 
 the first straggling rows of raw terraces amongst the fields and 
 hedges made her heart sink, she grudged each telegraph pole as it 
 flashed by. 
 
 From time to time she had been haunted during the journey by 
 the irony of Nugent travelling in the same train, the necessity of
 
 MARGOT GOES TO MAKE AMENDS 419 
 
 evading him at the terminus, and, when they arrived, she kept her 
 seat as long as possible, until, in fact, a porter gave her the super- 
 fluous information that ' they didn't go no further,' after which she 
 was ashamed to stay in the carriage. 
 
 Having no luggage to detain her, she was able to drive away at 
 once, and told her cabman to take her to the address scrawled by 
 Allen on the scrap of paper which she still preserved. As her han- 
 som passed out of the station, she had one last glimpse of Nugent'3 
 tall figure in the group before the luggage-van ; he was too much 
 engaged in identifying his portmanteaus to look round. ' Even 
 now,' she thought, 'he is not too heart-broken to think about his 
 hat-box ! ' and then she smiled, though bitterly, at her own un- 
 reasonableness. 
 
 It was a long drive across London to Clerkenwell ; the streets 
 seemed close and fetid after the pure country air ; she was mor- 
 bidly alive to the ugliness and squalor through which much of their 
 road lay. And yet it was not all ugly could not be on that lovely 
 August evening, with the dingy brick fronts of the houses, giving 
 out a warm apricot glow, and towers and steeples shining like 
 enchanted palaces in sunset glories of rose and gold, while, towards 
 the East, a few flamingo-tinted clouds sailed, like lazy dragons, 
 through the blue-green sky. And in the humbler and quieter streets 
 there was a pleasant air of relaxation, small shopkeepers gazing 
 placidly from their doors, women chatting at street-corners, children 
 dancing on the pavement to a friendly piano-organ much, even in 
 busy, toiling, ugly London, to see and feel the better for. 
 
 But Margot had no eyes for it ; as she drove on, her imagina- 
 tion was busy dramatising the scene that was coming. Should she 
 find Allen in his lodgings, would he be in a state to understand her 
 reckless, obstinate, how should she make it clear to him that her 
 own return was hopeless, that to delay his for another day would 
 be boyish folly ? If he were to insist on remaining where she was, 
 how should she escape '? She felt that she might be encountering 
 difficulties, even dangers, but she relied on her own courage and 
 address to carry her through she could not rest until she had ac- 
 complished this act of penance. 
 
 The cab stopped before a house which, if respectable, was poor 
 and mean-looking enough. Margot, as she alighted, felt its squalor 
 but rather on her own account than on Allen's. The woman who 
 let the rooms came to the door, a typical London landlady of the 
 lower class dirty, untidy, cringing, yet suspicious. 
 
 She was plainly surprised at this stately young lady's inquiry 
 for any lodger of hers, particularly as Margot' s appearance did not 
 suggest the ' Bible-woman.' 
 
 ' I am a friend of Mr. Chadwick's,' said Margot. When it came 
 to the point, she could not bring herself to mention their relation- 
 ship. 
 
 ' If you're a friend, miss,' said the woman, ' in course that's 
 another thing, but I didn't know as Mr. Chadwick had friends 
 
 E E 2
 
 420 THE PARIAH 
 
 among the quality, nor yc-t no friends belonging to him anywheres, 
 which he never give me to understand so himself. 1 
 
 ' Is he at home now ? Can I see him ? ' asked Margot curtly. 
 
 The woman wiped her hands on her apron. ' Well, no, miss, 1 
 she said apologetically ; ' it so 'appens that you can't see him, not 
 at this partickler time. I'm sure I 'ope you won't blame me for 
 hacting as I did, seeing as I'm a poor woman with my living to get, 
 and no one to look to for any expenses I might be put to, and think- 
 ing it best he should go, on all accounts.' 
 
 ' If you mean you have turned him out of your house,' said 
 Margot, ' you have done a thing you will be sorry for for your 
 own sake ! ' 
 
 1 It's well for you to talk, miss, but he's better off at the 'orspital 
 than what he'd ha' been if I'd kep' him where he was.' 
 
 ' The hospital ! exclaimed Margot, with a strange contraction 
 of the heart, ' has he had an accident ? Where is he ? ' 
 
 ' At Sin Bartholomew's 'orspital, miss. You see, he was away 
 for a day and night about a week ago, and he come home sopping 
 wet the follering afternoon, and looking that bad, I see he'd taken 
 a chill, and I arst him to lay up a bit, but he didn't seem to care 
 what he did, and he wouldn't take no advice nor nothing, and the 
 next day he couldn't get up to his work, and I knew he'd be laid 
 up for some time. And seeing as I couldn't nurse him here, having 
 no conveniences for sickness in my 'ouse, why, I 'ad him took to 
 the 'orspital, miss, where he'd 'ave all he required.' 
 
 ' You did quite right,' said Margot hurriedly. ' Tell me, where 
 is this place ? Will they let me see him there if I go ? ' 
 
 ' Bless you, yes, miss, if it's the proper time. I know when my 
 poor son fell off of a van and was laying there, they let me go in and 
 see him every day. And if you want to go there now, there's my 
 little boy 'ere as will go with you and show the way. Jimmy, put 
 on your 'at and go with the lady to the 'orspital you know.' 
 
 So Jimmy acted as Margot's escort. ' Do you know,' she asked 
 him, as he padded along at her side, ' if Mr. Chadwick is really ill 
 or not ? ' 
 
 4 He didn't look very bad, miss, he 'ad quite a colour when they 
 come for him with the stretcher. I 'ope as nothink won't 'appen 
 to him, miss. He treated me and Polly that's my sister, Polly is - 
 very kind allus. Day he went orf, he give us sixpence atween us 
 two, and told us he should come back either very 'appy or very 
 miserable, he didn't know which, and we was to wish him luck. 
 And we did, miss, but he ain't 'ad much on it yet. This here's 
 Bartholomew's gate, miss ; the porter '11 tell you if you can see 
 him.' 
 
 ' Thank you. Jimmy,' said Margot, ' and and I want you to 
 take this, if you will, and give half to Polly.' 
 
 ' Why, it'sarf-a-dollar, miss ! ' cried the boy. ' Did you mean it ? ' 
 
 ' It's because you were kind to Mr. Chadwick,' said Margot, 
 wishing he were clean enough to hiss. Her eyes were stung
 
 MAEGOT GOES TO MAKE AMENDS 421 
 
 with tears as she passed under the double archway. ' Those poor 
 children were kind,' she was thinking, ' why could not I be kinder ? 
 why '? why? ' 
 
 The porter told her the name of the ward in which Allen was, 
 and, if she went up, she was told, she might be permitted to see 
 him. The quadrangle within looked cool and quiet with its fine 
 trees, under which one or two medical students were strolling 
 bareheaded in the dusk. She found the right door and went up 
 the broad stairs, clinging to the old oak balusters ; at the several 
 landing-stages there were the great doors of the wards, from which 
 came a faint odour of anaesthetics and the hushed wailing of 
 infants, and at the top of all was the ward she sought ; she stopped 
 for a moment on the threshold, dreading to enter, and then, over- 
 coming her terror, she went in. 
 
 There was nothing repulsive, nothing grim or obtrusively painful 
 in the scene that met her eyes. The long ward had a cheerful 
 look, with the bright pictures on the walls, the flowers, and bird- 
 cages in the windows, the touches of colour from the pink counter- 
 panes and blue checked curtains, the general impression of air and 
 light. She felt reassured : it seemed a place to get well in not to 
 die in. 
 
 As she stood there, one of the Nurses, a girl of about her own 
 age, came up in her pretty striped hospital dress, and, on hearing 
 her object, told her the number of Allen's bed. 
 
 ' I will take you to him,' she said ; ' may I ask if you are a 
 friend of his ? ' 
 
 ' I am his sister.' 
 
 ' I am afraid he will not know you ; he has been delirious most 
 of the day,' she said. 
 
 ' Is he is he dangerously ill ? ' asked Margot, with renewed 
 alarm. 
 
 ' The doctor does not give much hope,' said the nurse, with a 
 gentle matter-of-factness, ' but there is still a chance that he will 
 get over it. It is inflammation of the lungs.' 
 
 Margot passed up between the rows of beds to the end of the 
 room, and there, with his hands spread out on the coverlet, a bright 
 flush on his face, Allen was lying ; his eyes were bright, and she 
 thought, as she took the revolving seat by his bedside and spoke 
 his name softly, that he knew her. 
 
 But he went on muttering at first incoherent sentences, and 
 then, as though her presence affected him to some degree, more 
 lucidly. 
 
 ' Tell her I didn't cheat in the Casino,' he was saying, evidently 
 imagining himself back at Trouville ; ' she thinks I did that's 
 why she has gone away and I shall never see her again, never ! ' 
 
 Then the scene shifted. ' Didn't you know, Margot ? You're 
 going to live with us now all of you, always ! . . . I shall see 
 her every day every day ! We are bound to be friends now, 
 aren't we ? But I wish she looked more pleased over it. I didn't
 
 422 THE PARIAH 
 
 think she'd mind it so much as that ! She'll get used to it in time ; 
 we'll be like one family together in no time don't you think so ? 
 People do living in the same house and that, and it isn't as if I 
 was a stranger to her, either, is it ? And I'm sure I'll try my best 
 to make her feel at home and happy. . . . She is feeling strange at 
 first, but she'll come round right enough. ... I wish she'd take 
 more notice of me. I do all I can to please her but she never 
 notices. When she sees me start out hunting on Hussar but isn't 
 Hussar dead ? And and I remember now . . . that's why she 
 laughed at me ; that's why they'll none of 'em speak to me now 1 
 ... I didn't think you'd turn against me, Lettie, but it don't 
 signify. You're my friend, Bob, don't you think I'm treated rather 
 bad ? Ah, you don't know her, or you wouldn't say she does it to 
 draw me on ! ... I tell you she's not the girl a fellow could act 
 bold with ; she she makes you feel small somehow . . . and yet, 
 there she is opposite. I never saw her look like that before she's 
 sorry about something. . . . Ah, what a fool I was what a fool ! 
 I couldn't help it. Why did she half shut her eyes in that way '? 
 Now she hates me ! If I could only make her own that I could act 
 like a gentleman 1 If there was only something I could do for her, 
 to make her friends with me again ! . . . She is friends, or why 
 does she write ? Tell me that. . . . I don't care they may call me 
 a thief if they like it's only for a little while ; only for a little 
 while ! When she comes back it will be all right. . . . But she is 
 back, and she doesn't say anything ! I can't get to see her alone ; 
 she's always in Ida's room. Why does she never mention that 
 letter ? she never does. I won't be the first. I'll show her I can 
 be gentleman. I won't allude to it till she does. . . . Ah, but I 
 must I must . . . they're going to send me to India away from 
 her, and still she won't say anything ! There she sits so pretty, 
 and scornful, and silent, and knowing all the time ! If you keep a 
 lady's secrets and bear the blame of what she's done, you mustn't 
 go and remind her of it that isn't manners ! It's not as if she 
 didn't know! Susan shan't get anything out of me. I'll go to 
 India, if that will please her. . . . There she is sorry for me ; 
 grateful, too, only she doesn't like to say so ; she doesn't want 
 anyone to know yet. She trusts me I'll show her I'm to be 
 trusted. I'd sooner die than split on her now she's kind again. . . . 
 She is singing " Abide with me "... no no, it's not Margot, not 
 Margot only one of the passengers in the saloon . . . it it sounded 
 so like. ... I thought I was back there outside the church in the 
 dark, at Lingford. I forgot I was on board ship going to India. 
 That's how it was, Mr. Denham it was hearing the tune.' 
 
 And here his mind began to ramble back to the Indian gold 
 fields ; he was watching the digging, or the crushing, card-playing 
 in the miners' bungalows, but always on the verge of becoming 
 immensely rich. ' It's there they all say it's there ! ' he would 
 repeat again and again ; ' veins of it lodes of it ! They've struck 
 the dip at last ! The shares are going up already . . . Margot, I
 
 MARGOT GOES TO MAKE AMENDS 423 
 
 ehall see you again very soon now . . . you won't despise me when 
 I come back rich . . . I I knew what I was doing, you see 
 better than indigo-planting, with everyone thinking me a thief ! ' 
 
 She had to sit there and hear it all : her attempts to soothe 
 him were unheeded ; she could only wait, hoping to catch the first 
 sign of returning intelligence to which she could appeal for forgive- 
 ness ; and still he wandered, and every word she heard came as a 
 fresh stab. The pride in which she had wrapped herself so 
 stubbornly fell from her there ; at last she saw herself as she was, 
 with no sophistries, no self-delusions, to shelter her from her own 
 contempt. 
 
 Was it she indeed who had persistently scorned, misjudged, 
 and ill-treated this poor boy, who had borne all this for love of her ? 
 She, who not an hour ago had been framing little speeches of 
 haughtily conventional gratitude, questioning his claims even to 
 such meagre acknowledgment as that ? And now when no atone- 
 ment seemed too much to be made his ears were closed to her 
 remorse, his lips could not frame the forgiveness without which she 
 would know no peace ! 
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 BEYOND HER POWER 
 
 Child, if it were thine error or thy crime 
 I care no longer, being all unblest, 
 Wed whom thou wilt but I am sick of Time 
 And I desire to rest. 
 
 Pass on, weak heart, and leave me where I lie, 
 Go by, Go by. 
 
 Tennyson. 
 
 THE dusk slowly deepened till the green summits of the trees in 
 the courtyard were no longer visible in the blue-grey outside the 
 windows. It was the hour when even exceptional visitors were 
 expected to leave, and, as Margot heard the hushed good-byes or 
 forced-cheerful leave-takings that were taking place around her, she 
 remembered for the first time that, when she too went, she would 
 have no place to go to. The house physician was just going his 
 round, and remained for some time by Allen's bedside ; when he 
 had finished his examination and given some directions to the 
 nurse, Margot, who had been requested to withdraw during these 
 proceedings, returned and spoke to him. ' Will you tell me,' she 
 said imploringly, 'how long he will be like this when he will 
 know me ? ' 
 
 ' I am afraid I cannot say that.' 
 
 1 And must I go away now, leaving him like like this ? '
 
 424 THE PATJAH 
 
 ' Ah,' said the doctor, ' you would wish to remain here for the 
 night, then ? ' 
 
 ' Oh, if I might ! ' said Margot eagerly. 
 
 ' I will go and speak to " Sister " about it and see if it can be 
 arranged,' he replied. ' Ah, I must wait, I see ' he added, with an 
 accent that hardly denoted pleasure at the interruption ' they are 
 going to have prayers.' 
 
 The ward sister had taken her stand at the other end of the 
 room, opposite a reading-desk on which a single candle lit up her 
 clear-cut face amidst the surrounding obscurity, and presently in a 
 soft gentle voice she began to read some of the prayers and collects 
 from the evening service, ending with the Lord's Prayer, which 
 was repeated after her by most of the patients who were in a con- 
 dition to attend. There was something striking and impressive in 
 the whole scene, a strangely touching effect in those humble child- 
 like responses from men many of whom must have felt themselves 
 very near the solution of the great mystery. 
 
 When the simple function was over the sister came forward to 
 make arrangements for Margot's comfort during the night. A 
 couch was brought and placed near Allen's bed. 
 
 For some hours she sat there, and during the earlier part of the 
 time his talk ran on and most of it was intelligible, while what she 
 heard was, if possible, even more painful than before. 
 
 He fancied himself in the garden with her, but all recollection 
 of what had happened there was lost. ' Margot 1 ' he kept repeat- 
 ing, ' do you mean it ? Will you really marry me ? me / . . . All 
 the time I was away, I hoped you would say something but not 
 this ... I thought you couldn't care for a poor good-for-nothing 
 chap like me not in that way. But you do you do I ... You 
 shan't have to be ashamed of me like you used to, dear, about my 
 not riding, and that. I'm not afraid of a horse now. I learnt to 
 stick on out there ... we shall have such rides together, Margot ! 
 I saw you and Lettie to-day, and I thought, "Will they ever let me 
 ride with them ? " And now you will ! . . . Tear up the letter, 
 Lettie, it isn't wanted any longer. Margot is going to tell them 
 how it was . . . the governor shan't say anything to you, Margot, 
 how could he if you look at him like that ! To think of living at 
 home after all with you, and Lettie, and old Yarrow, and every- 
 body ! ' 
 
 He gave a long sigh of delight, and then his murmurings be- 
 came more and more indistinct and presently died away altogether 
 in peaceful sleep ; the flush had faded from his face, and he lay 
 there with a smile of exhausted content. 
 
 Margot, as she looked at him sleeping there, felt some wonder 
 at her old repulsion : was it that suffering and illness had done 
 something to refine his face ? All she knew was that homely and 
 unhandsome as it might be she found no meanness or insignifi- 
 cance in it now. 
 
 When would he awake ? She sat on in the lowered light : from
 
 BEYOND HER POWER 425 
 
 one or two of the neighbouring beds came moans of pain or im- 
 patience at intervals. An old Jew in an opposite bed, who was 
 dying of some internal disease, kept up a dismal croon of ' Ah, la, 
 la ! bi-bi-bi ! ' for hours, to cheat the gnawing pain, only stopping 
 to curse a parrot when it woke and croaked drowsily. The nurses 
 came round from time to time, taking temperatures and administer- 
 ing medicines, often to meet with peevish ingratitude from the 
 sufferers. 
 
 One of the night nurses came to Margot and persuaded her to 
 lie down, since she could do nothing for Allen now. ' I will call 
 you if there is a change,' she said ; and Margot lay down on the 
 couch, though it was some time before she closed her eyes. 
 
 "SVliile she had been sitting by Allen's bed she had seen her duty 
 in a new light : she had formed the resolve which, a few hours ago, 
 no power on earth could have wrung from her she had decided 
 that she must marry Allen. 
 
 Not that she had come to love him that would never be ; even 
 now, in the very height of her pity, she foresaw that she would have 
 a reaction to contend with that when Allen got well, as he would 
 now, since he was sleeping so quietly, and the nurse had spoken of 
 a change when Allen got well, the real ordeal would begin. 
 
 But she had done with love ; she would find her happiness now 
 in doing her duty in trying to give her poor despised lover some 
 return for all she had cost him, since she was still desirable in his 
 eyes. "When he awoke he would be able to understand, and she 
 would tell him that she was there, and that he must hasten to get 
 well and be happy. 
 
 Then she too slept, and in her sleep there came a terrible dream. 
 She was Allen's wife, and he had reverted to his worst ; she saw 
 him, more degraded, more contemptible, than in the old days. And 
 now they were quarrelling one of those intense and vivid scenes 
 which Nature in repose presents with such terrific dramatic force 
 and realism. It was in the library at Agra House, and she was 
 remonstrating with him as he sat there, huddled up, blinking evilly 
 at her with bemused red eyes ; she was appealing to his love for 
 her. And then he turned on her, and his eyes had the same mock- 
 ing light in them she knew so well in his father's, and he told her 
 that he had never loved her, always hated her, that he had married 
 her, partly out of revenge, partly out of pity ! And, as she heard, 
 she saw Nugent Orme standing in the doorway, and woke with a 
 cry. 
 
 The birds were chirping in the coming dawn : the foliage, the 
 lines of roof and cornice, were all sharply revealed in the raw bluish 
 light of earty day. 
 
 She remembered her dream with a shudder. Thank God, it 
 was a dream ! And yet if it were to come true if it were sent as 
 a warning ? She lay trembling there, the resolution with which she 
 bad fallen asleep ebbing away as the daylight broadened ; no she 
 could not marry Allen : she would be a tender, loving sister to him,
 
 426 THE PARIAH 
 
 she would go back to her home, if they would have her there, she 
 would bear any humiliation her step-father chose to visit upon her; 
 but marry Allen ah, that could not be exacted from her ! 
 
 She heard a sound behind her and saw the nurse standing by 
 her couch. 
 
 ' Has the change come ? ' she cried, and, starting up, she saw 
 that a screen had been placed round Allen's bed. 
 
 ' It came in the night,' the nurse said softly, taking Margot's 
 hand, ' before we could call you. . . . My dear, my dear, don't 
 cry so the end came quite peacefully ; he died in his sleep ! ' 
 
 He had died in his sleep ; the last impressions on his disturbed 
 brain had been happier ones than any she could have given why 
 should she wish it otherwise for him ? But oh ! the bitter remorse 
 of feeling that she had not remained steadfast even in that tardy 
 atonement of hers, that he was dead and never knew that she was 
 there seeking his forgiveness ! He had faUen, defeated in the great 
 struggle ; she lived and was free but the victory was not with 
 her. 
 
 CHAPTEB XI. 
 
 A HOUSE OF MOURNING. 
 
 MARGOT'S escape, which, besides baulking her step-father's schemes 
 of vengeance, deprived him of his best chance of discovering 
 Allen's whereabouts, rekindled Chadwick's fury to a pitch that 
 deprived him of all mastery of himself. He accused his wife of 
 being a party to her flight, and vowed that unless the fugitive re- 
 turned he would break up his household, and leave his family with 
 the barest means of subsistence. 
 
 Mrs. Chadwick sought to pacify him in vain ; drink and excite- 
 ment combined had made him almost insane. He terrified her by 
 his threats of violence, winch there was plainly a real danger of 
 his carrying out. The poor woman was obliged to beg Guy Hotharn 
 not to leave the house at present, much as she would have preferred 
 to conceal the family scandal, if possible, and he consented, out of 
 anxiety for Ida. 
 
 By the next morning, however, Chadwick had quieted down, or 
 rather his excitement had passed into another phase. Margot was 
 forgotten for the time ; his mind was full of plans for celebrating 
 Allen's return. He talked of a grand dinner, of flags and illumin- 
 ations, of rejoicings in which the whole village should join ; his 
 distempered fancy ran wild on these grotesque and fantastic ideas, 
 amongst which that of forcing his unwilling family to assist in 
 their own humiliation was foremost. 
 
 He was enlarging on these schemes, and making his preparations
 
 A HOUSE OF MOURNING 427 
 
 for going up to London at once to begin the search, when a telegram 
 was brought in. ' It's about the boy,' he said, and then, as he 
 glanced through it, his face turned livid. ' Look at that ! ' he said 
 to his wife. The telegram contained these words : 'Allen is here 
 very ill. Come at once. You will find me here. Be prepared 
 for the worst. Margot, Bartholomeiv's Hospital.' 
 
 ' I shall find her there ! ' he repeated with a sinister emphasis. 
 ' If I find her, and not him, I know what I shall do. Yes, I know 
 what I shall do ! ' 
 
 As Guy sat in the morning-room trying to read, Mrs. Chadwick 
 burst in, pale with fear. ' Guy, dear Guy ! ' she gasped, ' a tele- 
 gram has come from Margot. Allen is dying in a hospital, and she 
 is with him. My husband is going up there at once. Oh, I am 
 afraid, I am afraid ! I saw him take out a revolver. If if he finds 
 Allen is dead, he is capable of anything. For God's sake go with 
 him; you can telegraph to her at the station; tell her she must not 
 stay. I think he is mad. Oh, make haste and go with him, he is 
 just starting . . . you will do this for us, we are so helpless 1 ' 
 
 Guy sprang up, glad of any kind of action just then. ' Of 
 course,' he said cheerfully, ' I'll go. I'll keep him from getting 
 near her, never fear, he shan't touch Margot. Don't tell Ida where 
 I've gone, she might be nervous.' 
 
 Chadwick was standing in the hall as he came out ; ' Will you 
 give me a lift as far as the station, sir ? ' Guy said, as nonchalantly 
 as he could. Chadwick did not hear him, he was preparing to get 
 in. 
 
 'Better let me take the reins, sir,' said Topham, from the 
 horse's head. 'I've had to put 'Arebell in the trap, the other 'osses 
 not being fit to go out, and the mare's fresh and she'll take some 
 driving.' 
 
 'Do you think I can't drive?' cried Chadwick with an oath. 
 ' I'll give her driving enough. Here, get up behind and hold your 
 fool's tongue.' 
 
 Guy saw that if permission was asked, it would be refused, and 
 so, as soon, as Chadwick took the reins, he sprang up behind the 
 dog-cart. Topharn gave the mare her head, and his master started 
 her with a cut which sent them down the drive at a gallop, leaving 
 Topham himself far in the rear. 
 
 He came back to the porch. ' Master won't stop to take me up 
 now, ma'am,' he said, ' he didn't ought to ha' drove, and that's 
 the truth. Is Mr. Hotham going to bring the trap back, or what ? ' 
 
 ' ]So, no,' said Mrs. Chadwick, 'go down to the station, and as 
 fast as you can, you will be wanted to take the dog-cart home.' 
 
 Topham went off grumbling. ' To the station ? ' he muttered 
 to himself, ' they're lucky if they get there ! I know I wish I'd 
 put the cob in, lame as he is. 'Arebell ain't used to such work, 
 Bhe ain't.' 
 
 That morning, as Millicent Orme stood at her window in the 
 Vicarage, looking out over the sweetbriar hedge upon the broad
 
 428 THE PARIAH 
 
 street, she heard shouts in the distance, and the sounds of wildly 
 galloping hoofs ; some of the shopkeepers rushed to their doors, the 
 village-constable stood in the middle of the road with outstretched 
 arms, and then, thinking better of it, stepped back, and she saw 
 Chadwick's dog-cart dash by at headlong speed, veering and yawing 
 from side to side. The driver had evidently lost all control of his 
 annual, and, as they flashed by, a young man on the back seat was 
 clambering across in a desperate effort to seize the reins and stop 
 the maddened horse. The clatter died away, and a crowd set off 
 running in the direction the vehicle had taken, while other villa- 
 gers, more stolid, stood at their doorways discussing its probable 
 fate. 
 
 A few minutes later, a man came running back, to be instantly 
 sxirrounded ; he went to the doctor's house opposite, and presently 
 the doctor appeared, and both hurried down towards the station. 
 Millicent ran down into the garden and out into the road, where she 
 fell in with a stream of villagers. ' What has happened, can you 
 tell me ? ' she asked of them. ' Is any one hurt ? ' 
 
 'Don't rightly know as yet, miss,' said the saddler, 'but it's like 
 to be a pretty bad haccident, I see that as they come by,' he said, 
 with pride in his own discernment. ' That there Chadwick didn't 
 seem to know or care as the 'oss was arunnin' away with 'em. And 
 young Muster Otham with him, too ! Lor dear, if anythink has 
 'appeued along of he, there'll be fine trouble up at 'Awleigh, there'll 
 be that, and him the hair an' all ! Ah, here be Muster Topham 
 were you tipped off, Miister Topham, or how was it ? ' 
 
 ' I'd give a thousan' pounds if this hadn't happened,' said Top- 
 ham hoarsely, and panting after his run. ' If master had given me 
 the reins, as I wanted him to, there'd ha' been none o' this 'ere 
 work.' 
 
 ' Here they come 1 ' said a labourer, ' ah, and they've been 'urt 
 sure 'nough ; they be carryin' one of 'em on a geatt. And the 
 tother one, yes, he'll be 'urt bad, too, they're liftin' of 'un along in 
 a 'orse-rug : ah, dear me, such things ain't been seen in Gorsecombe 
 since I've lived 'ere. Stand back, miss, do'ee now,' he added sud- 
 denly ; ' it ain't no sight for such as ye.' 
 
 Millicent had already drawn back, with an instinctive dread. It 
 was a dead man that was being borne past her now, with a hushed 
 crowd following at a respectful distance. 
 
 Joshua Chadwick's violence had been stilled for ever. He lay 
 there in dreadful inertness, some person had thrown a handkerchief 
 over his face, and Millicent caught her breath in an agony lest it 
 should fall, and yet was powerless to turn away her eyes. 
 
 After him came four men bearing Guy Hotham, who seemed 
 dead, too, though, as a matter of fact, he still breathed. The doctor 
 walked by his side, and the grim little procession was brought up 
 by Topham leading the trembling, wild-eyed mare, with the broken 
 shafts dangling from her collar. ' She'll never be fit for no more 
 work ! ' he was saying to sympathising companions, ' such a kind
 
 A HOUSE OP MOURNING 429 
 
 little 'oss as she was too ! If she'd been druv' proper, she'd never 
 ha' come to this end. God forgive me, but when I see a 'oss treated 
 BO, I think a broken neck's no more than his deserts, a madman he 
 was if ever I see one ! ' 
 
 Later, Millicent heard the details from one of the eye-witnesses. 
 The dog-cart had overturned at a corner, Chadwick being instantly 
 killed, and Guy Hotham, who had been thrown upon a heap of 
 stones, taken up insensible ; the doctors pronounced it a severe case 
 of concussion of the brain, and considered his recovery almost hope- 
 less. Lady Adela and her daughter Joceline came over in haste 
 from Hawleigh Court, but they had to be content to nurse him at 
 Agra House, as it was impossible to move him. 
 
 The accident furnished the staple of village conversation ; in the 
 grocers' shops or the alehouse parlour, the persons who had been 
 fortunate enough to see it happen enjoyed a brilliant social success. 
 The village hairdresser, who was also a literary character, being 
 accredited local reporter to the ' Pineshire Herald,' drew up*a thril- 
 ling account of the disaster for his paper, in his finest language, of 
 course describing it as ' a shocking fatality which has cast a decided 
 gloom over the locality.' Eumour was busy with the events at 
 Agra House which had preceded the catastrophe how Miss 
 Chevening had run away the day before, it was believed to be 
 secretly married to young Mr. Allen up in London, and how his 
 father was actually on his way to stop the runaway match. Many 
 wondered ' how Madam Chadwick would take it,' and especially 
 how she was ' left.' 
 
 Little of all this gossip had penetrated the Vicarage walls ; the 
 Vicar had gone up to Agra House, as his office required, to offer 
 sympathy and religious consolation, without succeeding in seeing 
 any of the family. Lady Adela and Miss Hotham were there in 
 attendance on Guy, but they were, thrown very much on their own 
 resources, for Mrs. Chadwick was too prostrated to pay any atten- 
 tion to their comforts. 
 
 One evening, a day or two after the accident, Millicent was 
 sitting alone in the Vicarage, when a visitor was announced, and 
 Ida entered. 
 
 For a time she clung to Millicent without a word, incapable of 
 speech for the deep dry sobbing that shook her slight frame. The 
 two girls had never been very intimate, and the elder was surprised 
 and even more touched by the confidence and dependence such a 
 visit implied now. 
 
 ' I know, you poor Ida,' she said, ' I know how horribly sad it is 
 for you don't try to speak just yet.' 
 
 ' I must,' said Ida, ' or I shall go mad. Millicent, it is so dread- 
 ful at home. Lady Adela manages everything. Mother has left it 
 all to her, and and they won't let me go to him. He has never 
 spoken not once since ; he was only conscioi:s for a short time. 
 The doctors say he may get over it yet, but I know he is dying. God 
 means him to die to punish me 1 '
 
 430 THE PAEIAH 
 
 ' Dear Ida, do not give way to such thoughts ! God does not 
 punish us through the innocent. If Guy is taken away, it will be 
 not because of any wrong you may have done, but because, though 
 we cannot see or understand it now, it is best so, Ida.' 
 
 ' You may say so believe so, if you like but I know He is 
 punishing me. Why, Millicent, but for me, Guy would not have 
 gone on that dogcart. That shows that shows ! Oh, tell me, 
 Millicent, if I speak now and own what I have done, will God for- 
 give me will He let Guy live if I do will He, Millicent will 
 He?' 
 
 ' Is your silence injuring someone else ? ' 
 
 1 Yes,' said Ida in a whisper. 
 
 ' Then speak, dear, not from any hope of advantage, but because 
 it is right. Speak only to someone who has a better right to hear 
 than I have.' 
 
 'I don't know who that is now, and I feel as if I must toll 
 somebody. Millicent, if you will sit with your face turned away, 
 and promise not to look at rue, I think I could tell you. Don't 
 interrupt me, or I can't go on. It was all so long ago, when I was 
 quite a child is one punished the same for what one does as a 
 child, I wonder? it is not fair ! But Allen had a tutor tJ^en Mr. 
 Melladew and I I was silly enough to fall madly in love with 
 him. Miss Henderson knew all about it, and she said he cared for 
 me, too, only he was too proud to show it. And I behoved it all, 
 and when Mr. Melladew was sent away I was miserable. Then 
 Miss Henderson managed for herself and me to go down to Bourne- 
 mouth ; she hinted that perhaps he would be there part of the 
 time. But I didn't see him, and she went on making excuses for 
 him, and I believed them. At last one day I did see him, and he 
 passed by without even looking at me, and I couldn't understand it. 
 She told me he was so sensitive, felt my step-father's treatment so 
 very keenly, and that was why he had not liked to speak to me. 
 So she arranged meetings with him in various places, and I gave 
 her letters to take to him and she brought back answers by word. 
 But he wouldn't write or consent to see me, she said not yet, at 
 least, and she said after each interview with him that she had 
 almost persuaded him that there would be no harm in his just 
 meeting me for once. He was so dreadfully poor, she said too 
 poor to stay there very long, for he had scarcely any money, and 
 my step-father had refused to pay him any salary. I was so afraid 
 he would leave without seeing me again, and I hated to think that 
 he had not been fairly treated at our house. I thought he was 
 angry with me, too, a little, and that was why he would go on re- 
 fusing to see me. Oh, I know I was silly to be deceived so easily ; 
 but just remember how young 1 was, and I thought myself so 
 desperately in love then ! . . Well, I wanted him to have the 
 money, and yet I had none of my own, or not enough, and I knew 
 my step-father would never pay. Then I remembered that at 
 home I had a valuable locket which I never wore. If I could only
 
 A HOUSE OF MOURNING 431 
 
 sell that and send him the money and make him think my step- 
 father sent it people do those things in novels, and I had read so 
 many ! Even if he found me out, it would touch him, I thought. 
 But I was afraid to sell the thing myself in any of the Bournemouth 
 shops I thought the people would ask questions, or cheat me, per- 
 haps. Then at last I thought if I could only get someone at home 
 to do it for me but Margot was at Bournemouth with me ; and, 
 besides, I knew she would refuse, for she did not like Mr. Mella- 
 dew. There was only Allen and Allen hated me, and was just as 
 likely to tell somebody to spite me, or tease me about it always in 
 a hateful way he had ! But I knew he would do anything for 
 Margot, and so you know I write so like her I put her name to 
 the letter. The lockets were both exactly the same, so if he took 
 hers instead of mine, it wouldn't matter, and I meant to explain it 
 all. So I sent the letter without telling Camilla about it, and she 
 promised that she would manage some way of bringing us together 
 very soon. I waited and waited for an answer from Allen, but be- 
 fore it came I found a letter from Camilla one dreadful morning 
 asking me to forgive her for having deceived me from the first. It 
 was she whom Mr. Melladew had been in love with all the time ! 
 He had arranged that they should meet now and then, and as soon 
 as she had stayed at Bournemouth the right number of days, he 
 was to come down and marry her at the Registry Office ; and they 
 had been just married when she wrote. I thought I should havo 
 died then I wanted to ... I was very ill; everything was a blank 
 for ever so long; and even when I remembered, I couldn't be sure 
 how much of it was real, and how much a dreadful, shameful 
 dream ! I did not seem to love him any longer. I couldn't believe 
 that I ever had really loved him like that, and yet there was that 
 letter about the locket ! . . . I knew Allen was going away, and I 
 was half afraid of I don't know what ; so I asked Margot one day 
 why he had to go. I forget what she said, but it made my mind 
 easier, and when I looked and found both the lockets all right, I 
 felt sure I had dreamed it all or at least that Allen had not done 
 what I had asked him. So I made myself believe you know how 
 you can make yourself believe things that all that part was not 
 real, only imagination, and gradually I got not to think about it at 
 all. It was not a pleasant subject, I need not tell you . . . Milli- 
 cent, why do you say nothing '? ' she broke off, inconsistently 
 enough. 
 
 ' I am thinking ... it is all so strange, so new to me,' said 
 Millicent ; ' I can't understand it all at once. Had Allen's going 
 away anything to do with your letter ? ' 
 
 ' Yes, yes oh, didn't I tell you ? He did believe the writing 
 was Margot's, and he took the locket out of her room only, he was 
 caught in the act, and he thought Margot wanted it kept a secret 
 I had said so, because I did want it very much so he never said 
 anything . . . Millicent, indeed I didn't know all this then ! Tel] 
 rue, was what I did so very bad ? '
 
 432 THE PARIAH 
 
 ' If you really did not know though surely you might have 
 guessed you might have asked more questions than you did. I 
 think no one would blame you very severely; you were very young, 
 and, as you say, very foolish. Is that all, Ida ? ' 
 
 4 Not quite all,' said Ida. ' You know that at Homburg poor 
 Guy proposed to me. I love him far, far better than ever I did Mr. 
 Melladew ; I didn't know then what love really meant I do now. 
 . . . Well, and I was so happy again, and yet and yet, from things 
 Guy said, I knew that he would leave off liking me if he thought I 
 had ever cared for anyone before him. You see,' she added, with some 
 naivete, ' I had told him that I never had he made me. Then we 
 came home, and the same night Margot told me . . . Oh, Millicent, 
 it was terrible ! First of all, she asked me if I had really written 
 that letter, and I was obliged to say I had, though I had really for- 
 gotten almost forgotten doing it. Then she told me all about 
 Allen's being accused of theft, and how a wicked, wicked maid of 
 ours had found my wretched letter, and meant to show it to my 
 step-father. Think, Millicent, what I felt then ! it would all come 
 out Guy would know everything he would be sure to believe I 
 was worse than I really was ; and my step-father never liked me, 
 and I was so afraid of him ! Margot tried to make me tell her 
 everything, but I was frightened I would not say anything more, 
 except beg her to save me somehow. I went on my knees to her ; 
 I said I would run away, drown myself anything rather than face 
 my step-father after he knew. I was perfectly frantic. And, at 
 last, Margot said she had thought of a way ; if I would promise not 
 to betray myself, she would take all the blame. You see,' added 
 Ida, 'it did not matter for Jier so much she had parted with 
 Nugent already and then she is braver than I am, naturally, and 
 my step-father liked her much the best. And it was a good deal 
 her fault, too she owned that herself for believing Allen was a 
 thief, and getting him sent away. If she had been kinder, it would 
 have been all found out at once. ... So I agreed, and the next day 
 she told everything, leaving my name out, of course, and I believe 
 my step-father was terribly angry. Then Margot ran away, and a 
 telegram came, and he started off to drive to the station in a fearfu 
 passion, and mother got Guy to go with him, and then you know 
 what happened after that . . . And you see it was my fault that 
 Guy had to go, and God is punishing me I ' concluded Ida in a 
 strain of perverse insistence. 
 
 ' Has Allen been found why is he not at home ? ' 
 
 ' All, that is the worst of it ! He is dead, Millicent ; he died in 
 a hospital in London somewhere. Masterman has gone up to-day 
 to arrange about bringing him home.' 
 
 ' Dead ! ' exclaimed Millicent. ' Allen dead, too ! ' 
 
 1 It is dreadful, isn't it ? ' said Ida ; ' but there are so many 
 other dreadful things now ! . . . Millicent, I wish you would tell 
 me again that you don't think I have been so very wicked.' 
 
 ' I can't tell you so,' said Millicent indignantly; 'I do think you
 
 A HOUSE OF MOURNING 433 
 
 have been wicked wickedly selfish and cowardly to let Margot 
 sacrifice herself for your sake ! ' 
 
 Ida began to weep in an injured manner. ' Millicent,' she 
 sobbed, ' I didn't think you would speak so cruelly to me when 
 Guy is dying, and I am so miserable ! . . . I wish I had never told 
 you but you are not to breathe a word to anyone else ; mind, I 
 put you on your honour ! ' 
 
 ' You don't deserve to be happy, Ida. "Why, even now, it is only 
 yourself you think about 1 Are you going to let Margot take all 
 the blame upon herself ? Have you never suspected why she and 
 Nugent agreed to part ? You talk of my being on my honour ; I 
 did not pledge myself in any way, and I do not mean to let my only 
 brother be wretched all his days to spb,ie you a little uneasiness. 
 If this leads him to alter his opinion of Margot, he has a right to 
 be told ; and he shall be told ! ' 
 
 Unce before, Millicent remembered, she had gone through a scene 
 with Margot herself, in which her indignation had been roused in a 
 somewhat similar way ; but the elder Miss Chevening, even when 
 she seemed most heartless, had never excited the contempt she felt 
 now for this weak, nerveless sister of hers. 
 
 ' If he does alter his opinion,' Id* argued sullenly, ' it will be no 
 good now. Margot told me he was nothing to her now, and never 
 could be.' 
 
 ' She is very much to him, still, which is reason enough. If you 
 were more generous, you would not turn a statement she made to 
 induce you to accept the sacrifice into an argument against her 
 now. I shall tell my brother everything, Ida, though it shall 
 remain a secret to everyone else. If you are wise, though, you will 
 tell Guy.' 
 
 ' Tell Guy ! ' Ida burst out passionately. ' Guy is dying! "What 
 does it matter to me now if all the world knows ! Everyone is un- 
 kind to me now, just when I thought I was going to be so happy ! 
 Why have I come here, when Guy may be wanting me, calling for 
 me this minute ? I will not stay any longer. He may be dying 
 even now, and I away from him ! ' 
 
 When Ida had gone, Millicent sat in a reverie, which was sad 
 enough. Her heart was sore for the bright young life on which so 
 many hopes and interests depended, and which seemed about to 
 close with such pitiful suddenness and futility ; sore for that other 
 life, that had ended yet more pitifully in the London hospital, after 
 so much unmerited and unrecompensed suffering; sore for his 
 father, cut off in the first bitterness of discovering an irreparable 
 injustice. 
 
 It seemed hard and unnatural almost to think of constructing 
 any happiness out of such wreckage as this ; and yet she felt a 
 great hope, now that Nugent had quitted Margot in ignorance of all 
 the facts, that fuller knowledge would infallibly soften his heart 
 towards her, and restore something of his lost ideal. 
 
 Millicent longed to be the means of bringing them together 
 
 F F
 
 434 THE PARIAH 
 
 again, and that night she wrote a long letter, in which she told all 
 she had learnt from Ida, and pleaded all excuses that could be 
 urged in mitigation of the part Margot had played, and this letter, 
 with many prayers for its success, she posted in the village next 
 day. 
 
 It may be true enough, as a general axiom, that a law of in . 
 exorable logic works out the consequences of every sin, whether of 
 commission or omission, to the end of the chain ; and in some 
 cases the operation of the law is made visible to the most careless 
 of us an object-lesson from which we may deduce a useful moral 
 for our brothers' edification. But, in other cases, the moral is less 
 patent ; it almost seems as if the Furies had wearied of tormenting 
 the evil-doer, or Nemesis had found her lame foot too much of a 
 clog, and limped home again. Yet, even here, the cessation may 
 be rather apparent than real, or the retribution be deferred and 
 fall under conditions at which we can but dimly guess. Perhaps 
 there are some natures, too, so weak and irresponsible as to be 
 unworthy of punishment under any conceivable scheme of justice. 
 
 We cannot know, nor is it very profitable perhaps to touch on 
 these questions in this place, except by way of preparation for the 
 fact that, after all, the punishment Ida dreaded was averted. 
 Guy did not die ; his strong constitution brought him through in 
 time, and Ida escaped with a season of wearing anxiety which 
 many a girl whose thoughtlessness and selfishness have harmed 
 none seriously but herself has been called upon to bear, with no 
 such happy conclusion to redeem it as came to Ida. For Lady 
 Adela, in her joy at Guy's recovery, abandoned her former cold 
 toleration of his choice. Ida's pale prettiuess and graceful timidity, 
 together with their fellowship in affliction, had won her heart, 
 particularly as all that had made such an alliance most objectionable 
 was now removed. 
 
 Chadwick had died a wealthy man, and without having had 
 time to destroy or alter the will he had made in favour of his wife 
 and her children. Ida would be entitled to a considerable sum on 
 her marriage, and the Hothams were not rich enough to be entirely 
 uninfluenced by the fact. 
 
 As for Mrs. Chadwick, after the first shock was passed, she was 
 able to realise how wonderfully accident (she spoke of it reverently 
 as ' Providence ') had favoured her at a desperate crisis. The 
 husband she had never loved and had learnt to fear would never 
 trouble her more ; an uncouth and repulsive step-son was gone, 
 too, where he could be no disgrace to them ; she was free, rich ; 
 the scandal which might have injured them had had no time to 
 get abroad she had everything now for which she endured the 
 humiliation and penance of her second marriage. 
 
 One of her earliest acts was to get rid of Susan, and, though 
 jot a wise woman in many respects, Mrs. Chadwick was astute 
 imough to take a tone towards the girl which convinced her that her
 
 A HOUSE OP MOURNING 435 
 
 power was gone. But then, Susan, subdued and terrified by tha 
 tragedy she had helped to bring about, with her malice baulked 
 and her ambition frustrated, was not a very difficult person to deal 
 with ; she left, and her further doings do not concern this history. 
 
 Still there was one drop of bitterness in Mrs. Chadwick's cup 
 After sending that telegram from the hospital, Margot had suddenly 
 disappeared. As soon as Mrs. Chadwick was in a condition to 
 realise this, she made search for her daughter in all the most 
 possible quarters, but without success. She had not gone to her 
 aunt, Lady Yaverland, nor to any of her old Chiswick friends ; 
 Mrs. Antrobus knew nothing of her, and soon a terrible dread of 
 another and yet more cruel tragedy beset Mrs. Chadwick, giving 
 her no rest by night or day. At last, to her inexpressible relief, 
 news came in the shape of a letter from Margot herself; it seemed 
 to have been delayed by foreign posts, and simply said that she 
 had gone abroad, and that her mother was not to feel any anxiety 
 about her, as she was perfectly safe and in good hands. She had 
 not been able to stay in England, she said ; she had not dared, 
 after all, to remain and face her step-father. When Guy was out 
 of danger, and Ida was on a visit to Hawleigh Court, her mother 
 wrote to inform Margot that there was no longer any reason why 
 she should not return to her home. 
 
 The letter, which was addressed to a foreign paste restante, 
 which Margot had given as her direction, remained long un- 
 answered, and the reply when it arrived struck the mother with 
 consternation. 
 
 ' You ask me to come back,' wrote Margot, ' after all I have 
 done, and all it has ended in ! I will never come back I could 
 not ! If I touched that money, if I shared in the enjoyment of it 
 in any way, I should feel I was taking the price of their lives, 
 which I helped to throw away. It is different for you and the 
 others but for me ! Oh, don't you understand that I could never 
 do it now it would be too horrible ! Write to me to the addresses 
 I will send you tell me everything, every little thing about all of 
 you, only don't try to make me change my mind don't try to 
 trace me or even to know what I am doing. It is enough that I 
 am no unhappier than I ought to be, and far, far better treated 
 than I deserve.' 
 
 ' Poor dear child ! ' sighed her mother, ' she takes such a very 
 high-flown view of it so absurd now, too, when she might come 
 back and no one would say a word against her ! She always was 
 so headstrong. But, never mind, she can't go on feeling like that, 
 that's one comfort. I wish I knew whom she was with she is 
 probably in a situation of some kind, and she will soon get tired of 
 that, thank goodness ! I must leave her to herself a little ; she 
 will come home all the sooner ! ' 
 
 But week followed week, and Mrs. Chadwick's anticipations 
 were not fulfilled. Margot's brief notes contained no hint of any 
 slackening in her resolution. She did not return.
 
 436 THE PAIUAE 
 
 CHAPTEK XII. 
 
 NUGENT UNDERSTANDS AT LAST. 
 
 Faithful she is, but she forsakes ; 
 And fond, yet endless woe she makes : 
 And fair ! but with this curse she's cross'd 
 To know her not till she is lost ! 
 
 George Meredith. 
 
 MILLICENT'S letter was delivered safely enough at Nugent 's rooms, 
 but it lay there unopened till long afterwards. He found that he 
 could not stay in London he could not bear his chambers in 
 Lincoln's Inn the contrast between his present state of mind and 
 that in which he had last sat there was too sharp to be borne as 
 yet; every object his hand touched or his eye fell upon held a 
 sting of happier recollection. 
 
 He wandered past the streets and squares around the Park ; 
 the silent thoroughfares, the blank house-fronts, with their drawn 
 blinds and window boxes where the past season's flowers were 
 dying untended, were more than depressing to him just then. On 
 the night after his return he had made a dreary pilgrimage across 
 the Park to Albert Hall Mansions ; there, beyond the glass roof, 
 were the coloured fires, the silvery haze of electric light, the music, 
 the crowd, just as on that evening last July. He looked up at the 
 dark mass of buildings behind him, and saw, dim against the 
 moonless sky, the balcony where he had stood with Margot, and 
 all her strange wayward beauty, the sweetness and surprise of her 
 sudden capitulation, the touch of sadness superstitious it had 
 seemed then when the brilliancy of the scene below had vanished 
 and the bell clanged in the gloom, all this came back to his sick 
 mind. Now he knew what reason she had had for foreboding, 
 with a conscience burdened by the sin of that betrayal, her happi- 
 nessfor assuredly she' had been happy poisoned by the know- 
 ledge that she had won his love by a lie. Why, knowing her as he 
 did now, could he not be content at his deliverance why could he 
 not forget ? 
 
 He determined to try what change could do for him : he would 
 escape from all these memories, and Norway seeming just then as 
 good a place as any other, he started next day for Christiania. It 
 was the old story of ccelum non animum, though, for a time, the 
 novelty and picturesqueness of fjord and peak and cataract, the 
 sport -for he was a keen fisherman the primitive villages, the 
 quaint, kindly simplicity of their inhabitants, acted as anodjnes or 
 distractions.
 
 NUGENT UNDERSTANDS AT LAST 487 
 
 But, with familiarity, this effect passed off, and Margot's face 
 began to hannt him with more and more persistency. He saw her 
 now as she had looked at their final parting, when she had rejected 
 his entreaty that she would let him take her from that house of 
 strife. "\Vith what a strange, calm dignity she had spoken ! How 
 came it, he wondered, that after all her misdeeds she still had the 
 art of making others seem in the wrong ? She deserved that he 
 should despise her, that he should think no more of her, except as 
 an illusion he had once held for the fair reality ; but he longed for 
 her, yearned for her still, with a yearning that would not be stifled. 
 He had ordered no letters to be forwarded, though he wrote to 
 Millicent occasionally. In his letters to her he made no allusion 
 to ^Nlargot or the past, and she, regarding his silence as a token 
 that her mediation had failed, was silent too. But one of her 
 letters told him of the deaths of Alleu and his father, and the news 
 produced a reaction in Orrne's mind against Margot. 
 
 It was owing to her that he felt a personal share in the respon- 
 sibility for Allen's fate. But for the lie she had told him, he would 
 have been gentler that night when they had met at the station ; he 
 would not have allowed him to break away without more than a 
 half-hearted protest. She had made an accomplice of him after 
 all ! Xow she was triumphant, he pictured her fair and tranquil 
 and proud as ever, with the end she had striven for accomplished 
 just when ah 1 had seemed lost. Yes, he could hate her now, but to 
 hate was a greater misery than to love. 
 
 He came back unrested, unhealed, and when he got to his 
 rooms one murky evening in October, there was a pile of letters on 
 his table, which he opened and read one by one without curiosity 
 or interest. One, in Millicent's handwriting he left, brother-like, 
 to the last ; this one was the letter she had written on the night of 
 Ida's confession. 
 
 As he read it, his first emotion was a mighty overpowering joy. 
 The wrong she had done had been done in ignorance ; she was 
 innocent of all that had seemed so diabolical, so monstrous, in its 
 unscrupulousness. It was all a tragedy of errors. "What she had 
 told him about Allen she had honestly believed what she had 
 done afterwards was in a desperate, mistaken effort to save others, 
 to postpone action until she knew whether her worst fears were 
 true or not. And after the joy came hot shame, poignant remorse 
 for having doubted her this second tirne, for not chnging in the 
 teeth of all evidence, all appearances to the instinct which, though 
 too faintly, had whispered that she of all women in the world wa 
 the last to do this thing. Would she ever pardon him this second 
 disloyalty ? would she be generous enough to recognise that her 
 own silence, her compromising speech and conduct, had all helped 
 to keep him in his error ? would she remember that he had at 
 least offered to remain by her through it all ? 
 
 He could not tell ; but he felt that, if she loved him still, she 
 would forgive him even this, and he determined to lose no more
 
 438 THE PARIAH 
 
 time ; he would go down to Gorsecombe next day, and see whether 
 his love's heart was hardened against him. 
 
 Unfortunately he had still to finish his letter, and the end con- 
 tained the news of Margot's flight on the day of his own departure, 
 and the absence of all trace of her since. The next morning hia 
 anxiety was in some measure relieved by another letter from 
 Millicent, from which he learnt that Mrs. Chadwick had heard 
 from her daughter, who was understood to be abroad and not 
 expected to return for some time. 
 
 This did not prevent him from going down to Gorsecombe, and, 
 on his arrival, he went up to Agra House and had an interview 
 with Mrs. Chadwick, whom he found in mourning as little unbe- 
 coming or obtrusively inconsolable as a widow's weeds can be. 
 
 She met his appeal for any information respecting Margot with 
 fluent evasiveness : she really could tell him nothing. Dear 
 Margot was travelling with friends, her movements depended on 
 them, and were so very uncertain. 
 
 'But you write to her,' he said ; ' you surely must know where 
 a letter will find her ! ' 
 
 ' It is very painful for me to have to tell you,' said Mrs. Chad- 
 wick, ' but the truth is that I have ceased to have any communica- 
 tions with her for some time. Of course I have satisfied myself 
 that she is under proper care she is acting (this is in the strictest 
 confidence, remember I wouldn't have it known in Gorsecombe 
 for the world !) but she is acting as travelling companion to a 
 lady she prefers that and dependence to living at home under her 
 mother's roof ! She persists in refusing to come home. So at last 
 I told her plainly that I must decline to encourage such folly by 
 keeping up any correspondence with her until she tells me she is 
 ready to come back and behave sensibly. I have not heard from 
 her since and you can imagine what a trial it all is for a mother.' 
 
 Nugent thought he knew the reason of Margot's determination : 
 he wondered afterwards how much, if anything, Mrs. Chadwick 
 knew of the secret history of the tragedy, but it was impossible to 
 guess from her manner. 
 
 ' At least,' he pleaded, ' you can give me the address to which 
 you last wrote ? ' 
 
 Mrs. Chadwick hesitated before replying in her most engaging 
 tones. ' Eeally, dear Mr. Orme, I don't see what good it would be 
 if I did ; it would be very unlikely for any letter written there to 
 reach her now. But I am afraid I must refuse to give you even so 
 much help as that. You see, it is not as if you were anything to 
 one another now. I don't know which of you was responsible for 
 breaking off your engagement, but I have no reason in the least 
 to believe that she has changed her mind since if you have. Mr. 
 Orme,' she said and there was really a ring of greater sincerity in 
 her voice ' I do want her to be left alone at present ; if she is 
 worried with appeals or messages, if she thinks anyone is trying to 
 find her out, we shall lose her altogether ; promise me that you
 
 NITGENT UNDERSTANDS AT LAST 439 
 
 will leave her to herself, that you will not persecute her ! Indeed 
 I believe that you will do yourself no good, and you may do he 11 
 and us much harm.' 
 
 Orme had a bitter consciousness that this was true, that he had 
 lost the right of approaching her now, even if he had the means ; 
 it was possible that her determination to remain away was partly 
 inspired by the wish to avoid him. 
 
 He made no further attempt to trace her ; he must leave it to 
 time to decide whether they were to meet again, and what would 
 come of it. In his heart he cherished a hope that proud, high- 
 spirited Margot would not be able to endure dependence long that 
 when her patience broke down she would recognise that she had 
 no other place but home to go to for shelter. But this hope, after 
 sustaining him through the winter, grew fainter and fainter when 
 spring came and summer was at hand, and still there were no 
 tidings of Margot. 
 
 It was Whitsuntide again ; Orme had not seen his home since 
 Christmas, and now the warm May sunshine, the budding trees, 
 the pink and white almond blossom in the Park stirred in him a 
 languid impulse to see Gorsecombe once more in the freshness of 
 early summer. Perhaps this time all the painful associations 
 would have grown fainter ; he might even hear news of her who 
 still was seldom out of his thoughts for very long. 
 
 And so he was sitting once more at luncheon in the pretty 
 shabby Vicarage dining-room, with the green Venetian blinds half 
 let down and the warm breeze stealing in through the open window's. 
 He had only just arrived, his father and mother and Millicent were 
 all there, and the conversation had been mostly carried on by the 
 Vicar, who could talk about nothing just then but the conduct of 
 the Eector of a neighbouring village in instituting proceedings 
 against a farmer churchwarden for brawling in church, the ' brawl- 
 ing ' consisting in leaving the building pointedly during a part of 
 the service he objected to. ' It's a great pity,' he said ; ' do so 
 much harm about here, with the strong feeling there is against 
 tithes ; it will be a mercy if it does not drive many to Dissent I I 
 can't think why Tancred hasn't more tact than to provoke his 
 parishioners like this ! J never find any difficulty in getting on 
 with mine. Stick to the Eubric and they can't give you any 
 trouble that has always been my rule, and I've never had any 
 unpleasantness with the Bishop as yet.' 
 
 So he talked on, asking Nugent, whose knowledge of ecclesiastical 
 law was not exactly profound, for his opinion on the legal aspect of 
 the case. Nugent answered as satisfactorily as he could, though 
 his thoughts were elsewhere ; there were questions he was longing 
 to ask and yet dared not. 
 
 At last, when the Rev. Mr. Tancred was exhausted as a topic, 
 Mrs. Orme said to Millicent, ' I suppose, Millie, when you were in 
 the village this morning, you didn't happen to see anything of 
 Margot? 1
 
 440 THE PAEIAH 
 
 Her daughter's face warned her too late that she had been in 
 discreet. 
 
 ' No, mamma,' said Millicent. ' I saw Miss Momber at Can- 
 nister's, and she asked me to tell you that there is a poor family 
 in one of those cottages on the Duckford Eoad, just before you turn 
 to go off to ' 
 
 ' Is Margot back ? ' Nugent interrupted, doubting whether he 
 could have heard aright. ' Surely, mother said Margot ? ' 
 
 1 Yes, yes,' said Millicent nervously ; ' she she only came back 
 last night I have not seen her at all yet.' 
 
 ' She has not come home from from illness, or anything of 
 that kind, has she ? ' demanded Nugent. 
 
 ' No at least,' said Millicent, ' I have not heard. I don't 
 know really, Nugent . . . Are you going out ? ' For he had risen. 
 
 ' I want to to take a look round the old place,' he said, with 
 affected carelessness ; ' and I may make one or two calls." 
 
 ' Were you thinking of going to Agra House ? ' 
 
 Orme was not in the habit of colouring, but there was an 
 additional tinge in his cheeks as he answered : ' I shall probably go 
 there yes.' 
 
 ' Wait a little let me walk there with you,' she said. ' I only 
 have my clothing accounts to go through and some flowers to take 
 down to the church for the decorations.' 
 
 ' Can't wait now,' he called, laughing, from outside ; ' we'll have 
 our walk afterwards.' 
 
 ' But stop, Nugent stop just a minute. I I have something 
 to tell you ! ' 
 
 But he was already outside, and waved his hand to her, smiling 
 from the gate. ' Tell me afterwards,' he said, and was gone. 
 
 She returned to the dining-room rather disconsolate. ' He has 
 gone up there to see her,'' she said sadly; 'he wouldn't stay to 
 listen.' 
 
 ' I quite thought he was cured,' said her mother, ' or I shouldn't 
 have mentioned her name as I did.' 
 
 ' I wish he was ! ' said Millicent ; ' and now it will come on 
 him quite suddenly, with no preparation. Poor Nugent ! ' 
 
 ' Well, well,' said the Vicar philosophically, 'you've been spared 
 an unthankful task, my dear Millie ; you know what Shakespeare 
 makes Cleopatra say : 
 
 Though it be honest, it is never good 
 To bring bad news : give to a gracious message 
 An host of tongues ; but let ill tidings tell 
 Themselves, when they be felt. 
 
 He must hear it sometime, and the sooner in these matters the 
 better. I was hoping he'd got over it too, poor boy, I certainly 
 thought they parted by mutual consent. Ah, well ! lovers ought to 
 know their own minds. Did you send round to let Fanshawe 
 know I can't take the evening service to night no ? He'll be away
 
 NUGENT UNDERSTANDS AT LAST 441 
 
 at cricket, or up at Holly Lodge with his lady-love, if you don't 
 make haste ; there, I suppose I shall have to go mj'self! ' 
 
 Onne could not have borne any companionship just then : he 
 wanted to be alone, to think over this great happiness that had 
 come to him. Margot was back at Gorsecombe he might see her 
 that very day ! 
 
 Yet he did not go up to Agra House at once, it was early even 
 in the country for an afternoon call, and he wanted to collect 
 his thoughts, to enjoy this period of anticipation to the full; he had 
 begun to hope again if she had come back, did not that prove 
 that it was not he who had kept her away ? 
 
 He walked through the village and along the open roads, finding 
 joy in everything now, in the contrast of the tinted snow of the 
 apple-orchards against the deep blue sky, in the scent of the haw- 
 thorn and the aromatic fir-branches, in the mellow impudent notes 
 of the blackbird, the distant call of the cuckoo. All about him 
 Nature was unfolding, renewing, awakening. How could he help 
 seeing in this a type of his own fortunes a sign that the winter in 
 his heart and life was gone and summer had come back ? 
 
 Then he came back by the lanes, in which the pink campion and 
 wild hyacinth had almost ousted the last primroses from the banks, 
 and soon he reached the little gate, where Margot had waited for 
 him that last day he had seen her. 
 
 The net was up, he saw as he passed the tennis-lawn, and a man 
 in flannels rose from one of the chairs as he approached. He made 
 a movement as if about to hold out his hand, and then seemed 
 aware that he was not recognised. 
 
 ' You don't remember me, I see,' he said, with a smile. 
 
 ' I can't say I do at this moment,' said Orme ; ' I am so little at 
 Gorsecombe now.' 
 
 1 It was in town we met not down here,' said the other, still 
 smiling, though a little uncomfortably, as if he felt the embarrass- 
 ment of having to recall himself to Nugent's mind. ' Have you 
 forgotten a certain evening last summer, at Albert Hall Mansions ? ' 
 
 ' At Mrs. Antrobus's ! ' cried Orme, starting. ' To be sure ! I 
 beg your pardon I remember you perfectly now your name is 
 Langrish.' 
 
 It was Langrish ; the man with the weary eyes and the listless 
 manner, whom he had met on the night he had won Margot, and to 
 whom he had never once given a thought since. There were other 
 excuses than this, and the difference between evening clothes and 
 tennis flannels, for his failure to recognise him at once. Langrish 
 had altered greatly since then, and the change was an improve- 
 ment; he looked a younger and a stronger man than Orme had 
 taken him to be on their first meeting ; his eyes had lost that faded 
 look, his whole bearing was brighter and more alert. 
 
 ' You were going to the house ? ' he said ; ' I'll walk up with 
 you.'
 
 442 THE PARIAH 
 
 Orme felt an uneasiness too slight to deserve the name of 
 jealousy, yet containing its germs ; till now it had not occurred to 
 him that he might have rivalry to contend against as well as 
 alienation hut what could this man want here, unless he came as 
 a lover ? 
 
 ' You are staying here, I suppose ? ' he said, rather suspiciously. 
 
 'For a few days only,' answered Langrish with cheerful careless- 
 ness ; ' my leave is up, you see, and I am anxious to get back as 
 soon as I can.' 
 
 This did not sound very lover-like. ' You want to get back ? 
 to Yokohama it was Yokohama, I think ? ' 
 
 ' It was and is,' said Langrish. ' Oh, yes, I don't mind it 
 now, you know. I'm taking my wife out with me.' 
 
 His wife ! he was married then, and going away in a few days 
 what absurdities jealousy leads a man into 1 The reaction made 
 Orme quite cordial. 
 
 ' Of course,' he said, ' that makes all the difference. And you 
 must let me offer my very best wishes. I'm afraid I shall not have 
 the pleasure of meeting Mrs. Langrish before you sail, unless,' he 
 added, ' she is staying here with you ? ' 
 
 ' You are very kind,' said Langrish, with some stiffness. ' My 
 wife is here, of course, and you will find her in the house some- 
 where. If you would like to see her, I am sure she will be equally 
 pleased to see you. I thought possibly you might have come up 
 with that intention.' 
 
 Nugent murmured something polite ; Langrish's assumption 
 that he had come up to Agra House solely to make his wife's 
 acquaintance rather tickled him it was so like the egotism of a 
 newly-married man ! 
 
 As they entered the hall Reggie and Lettice came running out. 
 The boy, without noticing Nugent, seized upon Langrish. ' I say, 
 you aren't coming in now ? not when you said you'd play a single 
 with me this afternoon, and I've got the bats out and everything ; 
 I want to see which of us two plays best I expect we're about 
 equal.' 
 
 Langrish laughed very pleasantly and good-humouredly. ' All 
 right, old fellow,' he said, ' I'll have a set with you, if you like ; you 
 must make allowances for my advanced years, you know I can't 
 run about like you.' 
 
 ' What bosh 1 ' said Eeggie. ' You're as young as lie is. Come 
 along ! ' 
 
 They disappeared towards the tennis ground, leaving Lettice 
 and Nugent alone in the hall together. ' Come into the school- 
 room, Nugent, do,' said Lettice, ' I've got lots to tell you ; I've got 
 a new governess, and I think she's lovely only Eeggie will say 
 Bhe's bunny-mouthed ; she's away now, so you can't see her . . . 
 Oh, and I want to show you my new drawings. I've been doing 
 some illustrations to Homer the " Stories from Homer," you 
 know. Some of those I've done are very good. Only I don't draw
 
 NUGENT UNDERSTANDS AT LAST 443 
 
 helmets nicely, so I've had to put them on ordinary hats. Should 
 you think that mattered ? . . . Oh, Kitty, I've forgotten all about 
 you ! Look, Nugent, doesn't she make a dear little doll ? I 
 dressed her up in my doll's things, but she will not keep her tail 
 down she's in black, you see, because all the dolls went into 
 mourning for poor Allen and father. It's nearly time for them to 
 be in half-mourning now.' 
 
 There was a shade of gravity on her face as she spoke Allen's 
 name. ' Poor Allen ! ' she said softly ; ' perhaps if he had stayed 
 here that night instead of going away again, he wouldn't have died. 
 He gave me a letter, and told me to tear it up, Nugent, and Margot 
 cried. I wasn't to tell but I may tell you. Margot said I might 
 last night.' 
 
 The tearing up of the letter had been unexplained for him till 
 now, and of this, too, she was innocent ! He could hardly master 
 his voice for the emotion that came over him. So Margot had 
 wished him to know then there was hope 1 
 
 ' Lettie,' he said, ' I want to see Margot alone will you help 
 me will you run and tell her that I am here, and ask her in kind- 
 ness to come to me ? ' 
 
 ' I thought you and Margot weren't friends any more ? ' 
 
 ' I hope we are. I I want to know what we are to be, dear.' 
 
 'Because Margot is only here for a very little while. Oh, 
 Nugent, can you get her to stay ? Do. I have tried so hard, but 
 she says she must go quite away ! ' 
 
 ' If I can help it, Lettice, she shall not go. Now run, like a 
 good child, and ask her to see me.' 
 
 ' All right,' said Lettice. ' "Where shall I tell her you will be ? 
 There's nobody in the drawing-room I should wait there if I were 
 you. Would you like to take Kitty to amuse you in case Margot 
 vs a long time '? I can spare her.' 
 
 Orrne declined this hospitable offer, and Lettice skimmed up- 
 stairs in search of Margot. 
 
 He could not sit still in the shaded drawing-room ; he rose and 
 wandered restlessly about, and at length stepped into the conserva- 
 tory, where the heavy exotic atmosphere seemed charged with the 
 poetry and mystery of love. Would she come '? . . . A light step 
 behind him, a delicate sound of drapery ; he turned, and all the 
 blood rushed back to his heart he saw her once again! 
 
 She was in black, which at first sight gave her a fairer and more 
 girlish look, but in her eyes there was the shadow of an ineffaceable 
 pain : the lines of her face were sharper, the paleness of her cheeks 
 had lost its former creamy tint, her hand, too, as he took it, felt 
 frail and unsubstantial in his. She met him with a wistful hesita- 
 tion, no longer carrying her head erect, as he remembered it of old. 
 
 ' I saw you coming,' she said ; ' I hoped you would not go away 
 without seeing me.' 
 
 ' What else did I come for ? ' he said. ' Margot, I I have heard 
 everything ! '
 
 444 THE PARIAH 
 
 1 You have heard ? you will not reproach me now, when I can- 
 not listen to you . . . What I did was for the best ! ' 
 
 'I have done with reproaches for ever,' he said. ' I only come 
 now to beg you to forgive me this once more. I ought to have 
 believed in you through all instead of taking it for granted, as I 
 did, that you must be guilty.' 
 
 ' That was not your fault,' she replied. ' I allowed you to think 
 so.' 
 
 ' But why ? Could you not have trusted me ? ' 
 
 1 You see,' she said, ' I knew so little myself I was afraid to 
 speak of it, to think what it might mean I wanted to keep the 
 secret from everyone, till I could know more, till I could see the 
 persons I suspected and warn them. Yet I nearly did tell you.' 
 
 1 If you had ! ' he cried ' if you only had ! ' 
 
 ' Shall I teD you what kept me back ? I felt that you would 
 blame me almost as much, if you knew, for treating him as I had 
 done for letting him go away that second time. 1 was afraid of 
 what you would say. And then, when that woman brought the 
 letter, I saw that in spite of yourself you believed her that, 
 even if I spoke, you would not believe me. That kept me silent, 
 Nugent ! ' 
 
 'I did not deserve to be trusted, I suppose,' he said, ' but I have 
 suffered for it too. Is it not time to let those terrible days be for- 
 gotten ? Can you not forgive me, even this second and worst 
 failure ? ' 
 
 ' What should I be if I could not if I felt I had any offence 
 to forgive you for ? I, who can never be forgiven now in this 
 world ! You must not think I have forgotten what I have done 
 that I ever shall forget. I have sinned too deeply the conse- 
 quences have been too dreadful for that. I have not come home 
 here to live. I should feel that I dare not hope to be happy in this 
 house. But I could not go away without seeing them all for the 
 last time ! Could I ? ' 
 
 ' Margqt ! ' he cried, ' why must you go away from England, I 
 mean ? Now, when we understand one another 1 . . . Have some 
 pity on me ! don't leave me again 1 ' 
 
 She drew back, horror and bewilderment in her eyes : 
 
 ' Is it you that speak such words to me as that now ? ' she 
 eaid. ' I thought you an honourable man, Nugent ! ' 
 
 ' What have I said ? What can there be dishonourable in a re- 
 newal of our engagement ? ' 
 
 ' Ah ! ' she cried, ' you said you knew all and I thought you 
 meant . . . Can't you understand that that I am not free ! ' 
 
 1 Margot, for God's sake don't keep me in the dark like this ! 
 Not free ? Does that mean that I am too late that you are 
 engaged ? ' 
 
 ' Did he not tell you just now when you were talking to- 
 gether ? ' 
 
 ' He ? Mr. Langrish ! How can that bo, when he is married ?
 
 NUGENT UNDERSTANDS AT LAST 445 
 
 1 1 am his wife.' 
 ......... 
 
 The events which had contributed to such a result must be told 
 here for the reader's instruction, though Margot could not be ex- 
 pected to give such an explanation to Nugent Orme. 
 
 Briefly, then, her history had been as follows : She had waited 
 at the hospital on the morning of Allen's death, until she could 
 bear it no longer. She had her jewellery with her, and a slender 
 stock of money ; her great desire was to leave the country, to go 
 far away somewhere ; she would go as nurse, lady's maid, gover- 
 ness anything. Then she remembered that references would 
 certainly be asked for and what references could she give ? Sud- 
 denly Mrs. Maberly came back to her mind, and her troubles with 
 companions. There was just a faint hope that she might be still 
 in town, that she might not have engaged anyone ; she would go 
 to the Langham before she went anywhere else. Mrs. Maberly by 
 a fortunate chance had not left the hotel, and was still in search of 
 the ideal travelling- companion, so when she learnt that the lovely 
 Miss Chevening was leaving home for family reasons, and willing 
 to go abroad with her in any capacity, she was overjoyed. 
 
 They left for Paris next day, and for some time Margot had 
 nothing to complain of, though the friend began to merge by slow 
 degrees in the patroness. There were causes enough to prevent 
 Margot from being the lively and interested companion Mrs. 
 Maberly considered she had a right to expect. The news of Chad- 
 wick's sudden death came as a fresh blow during her travels, and, 
 though she struggled to do her duty and submit to all the whims 
 and caprices of her employer, her powers were not equal to more. 
 
 By-and-by Langrish joired them, and the interest he had felt 
 on first meeting her was heightened now by finding her acting as 
 companion to his sister. He treated her with the utmost tact and 
 delicacy, shielding her in countless ways from his sister's ill- 
 humour ; he saw that she was unhappy, and scrupulously refrained 
 from betraying his own feelings. Insensibly she grew to like him, 
 to regard him as a friend, with which, not imagining that he could 
 be more to her, he appeared for the time content. 
 
 However, one day he had found her in despair ; his sister, being 
 in a more than usually bad temper, had informed Miss Chevening 
 that her services were dispensed with. Margot had no money all 
 her resources had gone in providing the necessary equipment in 
 Paris ; she would not return home- yet, where was she to go ? 
 
 Then Langrish assured her that she need not fear that his sister 
 would turn her adrift in the world he wculd see that she did not 
 go back to England without a suitable escort, if she must go. The 
 fear of losing her altogether made him break a resolution he had 
 made not to avail himself of their relative positions ; he told her 
 what a difference she had made in his life, and how, though he 
 ought not to speak, and knew perfectly well he could be nothing to 
 her, yet he could not help himself. If she was not free if what
 
 446 THE PARIAH 
 
 he hoped couid not be, she had only to tell him so, and forget that 
 he had ever spoken. 
 
 Margot was in a state to be grateful for all kindnesses ; her 
 pride had been brought very low ; she had learnt a stern lesson 
 against undervaluing her fellow-creatures ; not to mention that 
 Langrish wt-.s not personally distasteful to her. She did not actually 
 consent then what had passed was too terrible and too recent 
 but she had sufficient confidence in him to tell him all that op- 
 pressed her, and made her in her own opinion unworthy of a good 
 man's love. He did not take a very harsh view of it, though he said no 
 more of his suit at the time ; the breach with Mrs. Maberly was 
 healed by his instrumentality, and matters went on much as before 
 till the tour was nearly over, and then, once more, he returned to 
 the question. He must return to Japan very shortly. Could she 
 give him her answer before he went ? 
 
 This time she consented ; she had no love to give, but, since he 
 was good enough to care for her, she would try to make one life 
 happier, as some halting atonement for those she had spoilt. 
 
 So far she had not regretted ; what had been in its inception 
 mere gratitude and liking was growing into a warmer feeling ; there 
 were times when she had a guilty conviction that her lot was 
 easier than she had merited, and that the burden she had imposed 
 on herself as some palliative to an ever-present remorse was growing 
 lighter rather than heavier with time. 
 
 To return to the couple we have left: Orme stood staring 
 stupidly down on the red tiles of the floor, trying to force his mind 
 to take in the terrible truth he had just learnt. It was so far beyond 
 the very worst he could have anticipated, that, even now, he had 
 a lingering hope that there might be some mistake. 
 
 ' His wife ! ' he echoed. ' You are his wife ? ' 
 
 Through the open panes in the roof the words, ' Vantage to me ! ' 
 came in Langrish' s voice from the distant tennis-ground, like a 
 mocking and triumphant comment on the situation. 
 
 'Indeed, I thought you knew,' repeated Margot piteously; 'I 
 saw you speaking to him on the lawn just now.' 
 
 All the incidents of that brief conversation came back to him 
 now in their real meaning his instinctive jealousy, and the fact 
 that it had been appeased by what was, if he had known it, the death- 
 blow of all his hopes, the touch of ghastly comedy in his uncon- 
 scious congratulations to the rival who had supplanted him. 
 
 ' No,' he said drearily ; ' I had no suspicion till now. I I sup- 
 pose I ought to say something quite safe and commonplace regret 
 my mistake wish you every happiness . . . Well, I can't not 
 just yet . . . Margot,' he broke out passionately, ' how could you 
 do this thing ? What were his claims to mine ? You belonged to 
 me 1 You had no right I say, no right to leave rne for an- 
 other ! ' 
 
 ' I I hoped you would not have cared Like this,' she answered
 
 NUGENT UNDERSTANDS AT LAST 447 
 
 in a low voice ; ' I am not worth your caring for. But you must 
 not speak as if I had been untrue to you as if I had left you. 
 There was a time, when you first knew of that letter, when you 
 yourself were the first to see that we must part. Yes yes, I know 
 that afterwards, when the blow fell, you offered to renew the 
 engagement it was generous of you I felt that at the time I feel 
 it still but it came too late, Nugent ! ' 
 
 ' It was not too late, then,' he said ; ' you have made it too late ! 
 You could not have patience even this little while you were in 
 such a violent hurry to throw away your life and mine ! And why, 
 Margot ? Out of pique for some fantastic scruple for revenge ? 
 God knows ... it is beyond me ! ' 
 
 She drew herself up haughtily ; for all her new-born humility, 
 there was a flash of anger in her hazel eyes. 
 
 ' You force me to speak plainly when you use such words,' she 
 said. ' What I did was neither in pique nor revenge. I threw 
 away nothing you lost nothing by my marriage. In no case 
 Nugent, you must understand me in no case, could our two lives 
 ever have come together again. The love I had for you died when 
 I knew that you had no real faith in me, that you did not love me 
 as I had once thought to be loved. How another woman would 
 have felt, I don't know but when I saw that, I ceased to value 
 your love. I found that my own was not the same. Think how it 
 would have been, if I had told you all, and you had believed me ; 
 you would have found excuses for me for a time and then, by-and- 
 by, your reason would speak again, and you would condemn me for 
 all the harm I did. Or you would have doubted, in spite of yourself, 
 whether, after all, I had not deceived you ; whether I had not been 
 more guilty than I would admit. No, I could not be content with 
 such love ; without confidence, without respect, a love from which 
 doubt would never be far away. I could not have lived under a 
 love like that we should have been miserable, Nugent. It is cruel 
 of me to say all this now ? I hope not I do not mean to be. 
 Some day, perhaps, you will see that I was right, and be glad that 
 I drew back in time.' 
 
 ' That day will never come for me no, not if I could live on for 
 centuries !' he said ; ' but that will not matter to you . . . Well, there 
 is no more to be said. I have lost you this time, for good and all, 
 and I have no right to complain. What you have just told me is 
 the bitterest blow of all, but I brought that, too, on myself. Forget 
 what I was fool and coxcomb enough to say just now a man can- 
 not always count his words at first. I have come to nay senses now. 
 I don't pretc-nd I am resigned, or ever shall be resigned, on my own 
 account but on yours, 1 think even now I am num enough to feel 
 that it is well that you have chosen what is best. Dear, I do sin- 
 cerely, earnestly, wish you all happiness now and always ! ' 
 
 ' Happiness ! ' she repeated ; ' that is too large a word for me 
 now. But I shall always like to think that you were able to wish it 
 for me. that we part as friends.'
 
 448 THE PAKIAH 
 
 She held out her hand, he took it without another word of fare- 
 well, and the next minute he had gone, he hardly knew how, from 
 the house, avoiding all notice, in haste to reach some kindly solitude, 
 some sheltered spot where he would be face to face with his grief. 
 
 The last word had been spoken : he had won the heart of his 
 beautiful, self-willed, erring love, but he had not known how to keep 
 it, and now all hope of regaining it must end ! As surely as if the 
 future had been unfolded before his eyes, did he know that he 
 would look upon Margot's face and hear her voice never again ! 
 And, in the first agony of that knowledge and all it implied, he 
 envied the fate of Allen Chadwick, the poor despised outcast, whom 
 she had never loved, never even liked, but who had at least been 
 privileged to die for her ! 
 
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 SFOTTISWOODE AND CO., NEW-STREET SQCABE 
 LONDON
 
 WORKS BY F. ANSTEY. 
 
 SECOND EDITION. Crown 8vo. dr. 
 
 THE TALKING HORSE; 
 
 AND OTHER TALES. 
 
 From THE SATURDAY REVIEW.-' A capital set of stories, thoroughly clew 
 and witty, often pathetic, and always humorous.' 
 
 From THE ATHENAEUM. 'The grimmest of mortals, in his most surly mood, 
 could hardly resist the fun of " The Talking Horse." ' 
 
 POPULAR EDITION. Crown 8vo. 6*. 
 CHEAP EDITION. Limp red cloth, zr. &/. 
 
 THE GIANT'S ROBE. 
 
 From THE PALL MALL GAZETTE. 'The main interest of the book, which is 
 very strong indeed, begins when Vincent returns, when Harold Caffyn discovers the secret, 
 when every page threatens to bring down doom on the head of the miserable Mark. 
 Will he confess? Will he drown himself ? Will Vincent denounce him? Will Caffyn 
 inform on him? Will his wife abandon him? we ask eagerly as we read, and cannot 
 cease reading till the puzzle is solved in a series of exciting situations.' 
 
 POPULAR EDITION. Crown 8vo. 6*. 
 CHEAP EDITION. Crown 8vo. limp red cloth, 2s. 6J. 
 
 THE PARIAH. 
 
 From THE SATURDAY REVIEW.- 'In "The Pariah" we are more than ever 
 jtruck by the sharp intuitive perception and the satirical balancing of judgment which 
 makes the author's writings such extremely entertaining reading. There is not a dull 
 page we might say, not a dull sentence in it. . . . The girls are delightfully drawn, 
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 finish, cleverness, humour, wit, and sarcasm can give is left out.' 
 
 CHEAP EDITION. Crown 8vo. limp red cloth, 2*. 64 
 
 VICE VERSA; 
 
 OR, A LESSON TO FATHERS. 
 
 From THE SATURDAY REVIEW.' If ever there was a book made up from 
 beginning to end of laughter, and yet not a comic book, or a " merry " book, or a book 
 of jokes, or a book of pictures, or a jest book, or a tomfool book, but a perfectly sober 
 and serious book, in the reading of which a sober man may laugh without shame from 
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 and their sons, nephews, uncles, and male cousins next.' 
 
 CHEAP EDITION. Crown 8vo. limp red cloth, 2s. 6d. 
 
 A FALLEN IDOL. 
 
 From THE TIMES. -'Mr. Anstey's new story will delight the multitudinous 
 public that laughed over "Vice Versa.". . . The boy who brings the accursed image 
 to Champion's house, Mr. Bales, the artist's factotum, and above all Mr. Yarker, the 
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 Heights," and indeed in some respects it is even more powerful.' SCOTSMAN. 
 
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 and strength is one of the rarest equalities in modern fiction.' DAILY NEWS. 
 
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 stance, and peculiarly impressive.' TRUTH. 
 
 JOHN HERRING: 
 
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 making, and thought besides.' GRAPHIC. 
 
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 MORNING POST. 
 
 ' It is difficult to say which is the most striking feature of this remarkable and welcome 
 novel the quaint humour, the consummate power, or the freshness.' VANITY FAIR. 
 
 THE GAVEROCKS. 
 
 ' Marked by the vigour of style, the freshness of invention, and the dramatic power 
 which have gained this talented writer his reputation.' SCOTSMAN. 
 
 ' A tale of vivid and well-sustained interest.' GUARDIAN. 
 
 'The story is one of deep human interest, while the intensity of its local colouring 
 enhances its intrinsic merit.' MORNING POST. 
 
 RICHARD CABLE, 
 
 THE LIGHTSHIPMAN. 
 
 A novel essentially readable, and full of life and colour.' DAILY TELEGRAPH. 
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 DEMOS : a Story of Socialist Life in England. 
 
 1 If a tale of Socialism does not find abundance of readers, it is not because the times 
 are not ripe for it. This remarkable novel presents the great social problem in a striking 
 garb> ..." Demos" does not aspire to vie with " Alton Locke," but it tells a story more 
 practical, and of mere brightness and variety.' TIMES. 
 
 * A really able and vigorous romance.' -ATHENAEUM. 
 
 'This is a novel of very considerable ability. ... It is evidently written by a man who 
 has a very intimate know ledge of the working classes, and not a little sympathy with 
 them. . . . Nothing can be more skilful than the sketch of the artisan family round 
 whose fortunes the story of the book revolves. The chief character is very powerfully 
 drawn. . . . His mother, too, with her narrow, complaining, and almost dumb integrity 
 . . . the weak, pretty daughter, and the worthless, blackguard son, are hardly less 
 truthful studies. . . . The sketch of the one or two Socialist meetings which the author 
 has occasion to describe, of the style of Socialist literature, and the conversation of 
 Socialist agitators, shows an intimate knowledge of that field of action.' SPECTATOR. 
 
 A LIFE'S MORNING. 
 
 ' Powerful and unique, as all Mr. Gissing's former writings are " A Life's Morning " 
 is his chtf-d'cewre. . . . The story is most fascinating and most natural.' 
 
 WHITEHALL REVIEW. 
 
 ' As a study of feminine nature, " A Life's Morning " is, perhaps, the most successful of 
 all Mr. Gissing's works, and deserves to be fully as popular as its predecessors.' 
 
 PALL MALL GAZETTE. 
 
 ' A story which is marked by imaginative insight, subtle delineation of character, 
 epigrammatic force of style, and gleams of genuine humour.' STANDARD. 
 
 THE NETHER WORLD. 
 
 1 Terrible in its earnestness, in its " untouched " photography of the desperate struggles 
 and bitter misery of the London poor ; never was word-painting more thoroughly and 
 obviously true." WORLD. 
 
 ' Mr.Gissing is one of the few persons who can handle pitch without being defiled 
 by it. While he runs Zola close as a realist, his thoughts and language are as pure as 
 hose of Miss Yonge herself.' STANDARD. 
 
 ' A powerful and most interesting novel.' MANCHESTER GUARDIAN. 
 
 THYRZA. 
 
 ' A very good story indeed. ... In power and pathetic treatment the novel is above 
 he average. ATHEN/EUM. 
 
 ' " Thyrza" is a really exquisite figure ; as pathetic a creation as can well be imagined. 
 ... In short, "Thyrza " is a book of unusual literary merit.' MORNING POST. 
 
 NEW GRUB STREET. 
 
 'Mr. Gissing's writing is bright and strong, his humour is delightful, and his satire 
 is easy and yet restrained.' SPEAKER. 
 
 ' Mr. Gissing has produced a very powerful book. . . . Full of clever touches on 
 literary and social matters.' SATURDAY REVIEW. 
 
 'The book is decidedly forcible, and, to a great extent, the result of experience.' 
 
 ATHENAEUM. 
 
 ' Mr. Gissing's new book is the best bit of work he has donesince " Thyrza." In none 
 of his recent novels has there been such reality of feeling, such pathos, such careful yet 
 broad analysis of character. Mr. Gissing's characters are real living men and women ; 
 they are drawn with great skill, sympathy, and truth.' GUARDIAN. 
 
 London: SMITH, ELDER, & CO., 15 Waterloo Place.
 
 The ' MOLLY BAWN' SERIES of POPULAR NOELS. 
 
 Works by the Author of 'MOLLY BAWN,' 'GREEN PLEASURE 
 
 AND GREY GRIEF,' <fco. do. 
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 PHYLLIS : A NOVEL. 
 
 1 A clever and interesting novel.' SPECTATOR. ' Very pleasant writing.' QUKEN. 
 
 MOLLY BAWN. 
 
 ' Really an attractive novel, idealising human life without departing from the truth, 
 and depicting the love of a tender, feminine, yet high-spirited girl in a most touching 
 manner. Full of wit, spirit, and gaiety. All women will envy and all men will fall in 
 love with her. Higher praise we surely cannot give.' ATHEN*UM. 
 
 'AIRY FAIRY LILIAN.' 
 
 ' A delightful story, cast ip the same mould as its predecessors. The characters are 
 tfeverly drawn, the dialogue is terse and pointed.' COURT JOURNAL. 
 
 MRS. GEOFFREY. 
 
 ' A prettier or more readable story than " Mrs. Geoffrey " nobody need wish to meet 
 with.' SCOTSMAN. 
 
 ROSSMOYNE. 
 
 ' Monica Beresford is a very pretty example of Irish nalvetf dissociated from shille- 
 laghs ; and there is true humour in the conception of Kit, her sister.' ACADEMY. 
 
 DORIS. 
 
 * "Doris" is a clever story of a marriage of convenience The dialogue is good : 
 
 that of " Dicky Browne," a kind of licensed jester, being really bright and lively. The 
 heroine is well drawn, and so is a terrible aunt of hers, whose encounters with the 
 Marquis (himself a clever portrait) are diverting.' ACADEMY. 
 
 GREEN PLEASURE AND GREY GRIEF. 
 
 '"Green Pleasure and Grey Grief " is what many of its readers will be inclinedto 
 call a sweetly pretty story.' ATHEN^UM. 
 
 PORTIA. 
 
 ' "Portia, or by Passions Rocked," is of the category of novels to which may fairly 
 he applied the epithet of " charming." ' MORNING POST. 
 
 BEAUTY'S DAUGHTERS. 
 
 'Another triumph. ... Of the success of the story there can hardly be any doubt.' 
 
 COURT JOURNAL, 
 
 FAITH AND UNFAITH. 
 
 'A singularly bright, vivacious, readable story.' ILLUSTRATED LONDON NEWS. 
 ' Distinctly superior to three-fourths of the fiction published.' ACADEMY. 
 
 LADY BRANKSMERE. 
 
 '. . . Sufficiently sensational to suit the most ardent admirers of fiction, and yet contain* 
 much that is worthy of admiration.' COURT JOURNAL. 
 
 LOYS, LORD BERRESFORD, and other Tales. 
 
 'A collection of stories which cannot fail to be popular. There is something good it* 
 nil of them, and one or two are especially racy and piquant.' ACADEMY. 
 
 UNDER-CURRENTS. 
 
 ' Altogether as enjoyable as one is accustomed to expect from the clever author cJ 
 ' Molly Bawn."' SCOTSMAN. 
 
 London : SMITH, ELDER, & CO., 15 Waterloo Place,
 
 J.^2RN REGCNAJ. UBRAfiY FAdUTY 
 
 m f\f<\*\ III I' III II II [[| III | II,