'I i 
 
 AN 
 
 IMMORTAL 
 SOUL 
 
 W. H. MALLOCK

 
 AN 
 
 IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 BY 
 W. H. MALLOCK 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 
 ' A ROMANCE OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY ' 
 " A HUMAN DOCUMENT " ETC. 
 
 HARPER & BROTHERS PUBLISHERS 
 
 NEW YORK AND LONDON 
 MC MVI I I
 
 Copyright, 1908, by HARPER & BROTHERS. 
 
 All rights reserved. 
 Published October, 1908.
 
 STACK 
 ANNEX 
 
 PR 
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL
 
 BOOK I
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 THE deep-sunken, earthy lane, just wide enough for 
 the passage of a cart, climbed upward in zigzags 
 between the pastures and ploughlands of the hill. With 
 the wisps of hay and straw caught in the brambles 
 which hung over it, and the primroses which in wavering 
 lines illuminated the slopes below them, it might have 
 been a little artery wandering into the very heart of 
 Arcadian England. As a matter of fact, it stopped 
 short at a rough gate which committed the pedestrian 
 to a foot-path and a rising field. The field was studded 
 with gorse bushes, of which those on the higher levels 
 showed their prickles and their blossoms against the sky. 
 
 The afternoon sun of a mild March was shining, almost 
 as warm and brilliant as the suns of the south of France, 
 when a well-dressed man, with a brown Tyrolean hat, 
 and a pearl in each of the shirt-cuffs which emerged 
 from the Scotch homespun of his sleeves, made his way 
 up the lane as though he were an exploring stranger. 
 During the course of his leisurely ascent, however, 
 though the quarter of the sky facing him was still clear 
 and cloudless, he noticed that a curious dimness was 
 creeping over the objects round him, and he presently 
 looked back to discover the cause of so abrupt a change. 
 
 The scene which met his eyes was singular. The hill- 
 side commanded a blue expanse of sea, which a crescent 
 of coast, extending for some forty miles and curving 
 
 3
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 along the distant horizon into a vanishing horn of mist, 
 embraced as an enormous bay. A succession of red 
 headlands was still brightly illuminated, but the surface 
 of the waves was disappearing under volumes of thick, 
 low-lying vapor, which, having charged the foot of the 
 hill already, was advancing up the lane like the smoke 
 of burning weeds. The invasion was so impetuous that 
 the stranger, when he had reached the gate, was no 
 longer in sunshine, but in a gray, diaphanous twilight, 
 as if he had climbed up the magic bean-stalk into some 
 visionary and incalculable world. He was soon tempted 
 to think that he had done this in reality. 
 
 Having surmounted the gate, he paused and again 
 looked round him. He was a man who had passed the 
 prime but not the vigor of life. His mustache, indeed, 
 and an imperial which gave him a slightly foreign ap- 
 pearance, showed a few threads of silver; but the lines 
 round his clear gray eyes spoke less of age than ex- 
 perience; and there was an unimpaired vitality in the 
 smile, not displeasingly cynical, which lurked in the 
 corners of his mouth as he watched the proceedings of 
 the weather. He had hardly resumed his way when 
 there was a new development of the unexpected. This 
 was a vague sound, startling in the general silence. 
 When first his ears grew aware of it he ascribed it to a 
 flock of birds twittering so he supposed in the hedge 
 which the foot-path skirted. But on turning to look 
 for them he soon found out his error. It happened that 
 the hedge close to him was broken into an oval gap; 
 and through this, as through the frame of a picture, he 
 saw before him a spectacle of a whimsically surprising 
 kind. He saw, softened by the mist and moving in 
 colored groups, a number of girls perhaps twenty 
 engaged in the game of hockey. Half of them wore 
 coquettish little caps of scarlet; the other half, similar 
 caps of gleaming turquoise-blue. They were otherwise 
 dressed variously, and in skirts of different lengths, their 
 ages varying, apparently, from twelve up to seventeen. 
 
 4
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 Their movements had the grace of performers in an 
 operatic ballet; and presently the stranger, who was 
 standing amused and motionless, began to distinguish 
 the inflections of their voices, and now and then a word. 
 The young ladies spoke he soon realized this no less 
 daintily than they moved. If they formed a school, as 
 no doubt they did, it was plainly a school of the class 
 which advertisements call "select." Gradually, from 
 the many figures, he began to pick out several whose 
 exploits he found himself following with a sort of per- 
 sonal interest. One in particular became before long 
 his heroine. Her carriage and the contour of her slim 
 and flexible form struck him as more mature than the 
 carriage and contours of the rest. She swung round, 
 whenever the occasion required, with a charming mixt- 
 ure of abandonment and absolute self-possession which 
 suggested that she would be a perfect dancer. Though 
 the game seemed to excite her, she nevertheless played 
 it with a certain air of condescension; and while the 
 hands of many of the players were bare, and shone like 
 pink roses, this girl was gloved fastidiously, and seemed 
 finished from head to foot. 
 
 The stranger had begun to speculate, beguiled by an 
 idle curiosity, as to what she could be doing there with 
 associates in many ways so different from herself; but 
 his thoughts had not strayed far when the performance 
 showed signs of ending, and, not without some regret, 
 he abruptly resumed his walk. He had not, however, 
 proceeded for more than a hundred yards when the foot- 
 path brought him to the open gate of the hockey-field, 
 and the same idle curiosity brought him to a halt once 
 more. On the bars of the gate hung a number of the 
 young ladies' coats, emitting a shimmer from their vari- 
 ously colored silk linings; and the young ladies them- 
 selves were by this time coming toward them. 
 
 The small girls came up first, under the charge of a 
 maternal mistress, whose pleasant face was prim with 
 all the correctnesses; and a scuffle ensued with refrac- 
 
 5
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 tory sleeves and collars, which was followed by much re- 
 arrangement of tangled and floating hair. The elder 
 girls came more slowly, the stranger's heroine among the 
 last. Her face, her figure, her bearing, now he saw them 
 at closer quarters, struck him as even more mature than 
 he had at first been tempted to imagine; but he pres- 
 ently realized that the impression thus produced on him 
 was due, partly at all events, to some change in the 
 girl herself. Her movements had lost, not indeed their 
 grace, but their elasticity. The mere act of walking 
 seemed to have become an effort to her, and she was, 
 moreover, noticeably pale; and, had it not been for a 
 certain singularity in her expression, he would have sup- 
 posed that she had overtired herself and was possibly on 
 the verge of fainting. But watching her more narrowly, 
 as two assiduous companions were investing her in some 
 long and very elegant garment, he was confirmed in the 
 conviction, which at first was hardly credible to him, 
 that what was affecting her was not fatigue, but terror. 
 What there could be to terrify her it passed his wit to 
 conjecture, but the undoubted fact remained. With her 
 lips slightly parted and her eyes wide open and fixed, she 
 was the image of one who is waiting for the approach of 
 some dreaded danger. The incident was so curious and 
 inexplicable that he had quite forgotten to question his 
 right to a prolonged observation of it, when the girl's 
 eyes, to his embarrassment, suddenly met his own. In 
 hers, however, he detected, with a surprise that was like 
 a shock, not embarrassment, but relief, and he could al- 
 most have fancied recognition. A second glance on his 
 part convinced him that she was a total stranger, and, 
 fearing that he might be misleading her into taking him 
 for somebody else, he was turning sharply away when a 
 singular event arrested him. From somewhere beyond 
 the mist came a rumble of distant thunder. The effect 
 on the girl was instantaneous. She gripped the arm 
 of the companion who was standing next her, and ex- 
 claimed, with a gasp: "It is coming this way! I feel 
 
 6
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 it!" Her cheeks were by this time bloodless and her 
 body was trembling visibly. 
 
 The other girl did what she could to calm her, but, 
 obviously frightened by the unmanageable fright of her 
 friend, she called out with a nervous laugh to the mis- 
 tress : 
 
 "Oh, Miss Hazel, please come here come quick! 
 Nest thinks that the thunder is going to gobble her up." 
 
 The mistress at once responded. The situation seem- 
 ed to alarm her, but she did not seem unprepared for it, 
 and she hastened toward the sufferer with an air of 
 drastic maternity, provoking, as the stranger did not 
 fail to notice, a cautious giggling among the younger 
 members of her flock, who observed to one another that 
 "the Nut was exactly like a clucking old hen." 
 
 "My dear Miss Vivian," she ejaculated, "what is all 
 this about, pray? Don't tell me you're worrying about 
 a silly little bit of thunder. If you want to worry about 
 anything, you ought to be worrying about the rain, 
 which indeed is commencing now. Run back with us, 
 if you don't want to be drenched, and we'll send you to 
 your home afterward, dry and comfortable, in a cab. 
 My dear, don't think about the thunder. It's miles 
 away miles, miles." 
 
 "It's not," said the girl, vehemently. "It's close, 
 and it's coming closer. Look there's a man over th^re. 
 A man will know; I'll ask him." 
 
 The words were still on her lips when another clap 
 was audible ; and the stranger had hardly time to realize 
 what was happening when he found that this young lady, 
 who a moment ago had been a vision for him, was grasp- 
 ing one of his hands as a drowning man grasps a rope, 
 was asking him with her lips if the storm were near or 
 far, and beseeching him with her eyes to protect her 
 against its vague malignity. " You wouldn't," she add- 
 ed, " think me an idiot if you knew how my heart was 
 beating." 
 
 Many men, if appealed to in this astonishing way by 
 7
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 a highly ornamental school-girl, in the sight of all her 
 school-fellows, might have made the situation ridiculous 
 at once for himself and her. The stranger, however, 
 showed himself perfectly equal to the occasion. He did 
 not even betray surprise. His expression, as he looked 
 at her, was indicative of grave amusement, touched, but 
 touched so subtly that she alone could be conscious of it, 
 with the sympathy of a man familiar with the ways of 
 women. 
 
 "I can only hope," he said, "that your heart will 
 never beat for anything which is likely to trouble you 
 more than to-day's thunder. I know," he continued, 
 "about thunder-storms better, perhaps, than most peo- 
 ple, and I'll answer for the conduct of this one." 
 
 His manner had abruptly altered, the reason being 
 his perception of the near presence of Miss Hazel, who, 
 rigid with scandalized anxiety, was preparing to inter- 
 rupt the interview. 
 
 Miss Hazel, it was evident from every line about her 
 compressed lips, was one of that sisterhood whose con- 
 ception of all indecorum is apt to be embodied in the 
 person of the unintroduced male, and who always carry 
 about with them a sheathed stiletto of rudeness, ready 
 to repel the insult of attentions that never come. Un- 
 spoken disapproval, which would have expressed itself 
 in rudeness presently, was gathering its forces in her 
 naturally benignant eyes when all her aggressive prep- 
 arations were frustrated by the stranger's action. Dis- 
 engaging his hand from the girl's with a sort of con- 
 fidential brusquerie, he turned to the guardian goddess, 
 who found herself, instead of attacking him, obeying a 
 gesture on his part which invited her to a private con- 
 ference. There was a courteous self-possession in his 
 manner which made rudeness impossible, but it opened 
 the door for her to an explanation which suited her 
 purpose equally. 
 
 "I am," she said, with refrigerating dignity, " quite 
 unaware whom I have the privilege of addressing, but, 
 
 8
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 whoever you may be, I must apologize to you for the 
 strangeness of that young lady. This is Miss Aldritch's 
 school. All the girls belong to the very first families 
 in the land. Two of those little ones are, indeed, daugh- 
 ters of noblemen. So I must tell you that Miss Vivian 
 who only comes to us for her German, and is residing 
 here with her aunt, a lady of title deserves to be ex- 
 cused on account of her peculiar health. The slightest 
 nervous shock and a thunder-storm appears to upset 
 her more than anything else may, so her doctors say, 
 produce some serious crisis. If, therefore," Miss Hazel 
 continued, "since Miss Vivian seems to think that 
 gentlemen must understand thunder-storms, you could 
 inform her in my hearing that there really is not the 
 least danger, we can get her back to the school without 
 any grave mischief, and then we can send her to her 
 home, which unfortunately is in another direction." 
 
 "Yes, yes," said the stranger, unbuttoning his coat 
 and beginning to feel for something secreted in an in- 
 ternal pocket. " I've a sister who suffers from thunder 
 in very much the same way. Perhaps if you'll look at 
 my card it will justify you in letting me help you to 
 better purpose than I could do by merely giving an 
 opinion about the weather. In this part of the world 
 my name is sufficiently familiar, though I have myself 
 been absent for something like twenty years." 
 
 Miss Hazel inspected the card with the screwed-up 
 eyes of an inquisitor, but no sooner had she deciphered 
 it than her face underwent a change, which would, had 
 she only been a housekeeper, have been the prelude to a 
 respectful courtesy. 
 
 "Oh, indeed!" she exclaimed. "Sir Rawlin, forgive 
 my stupidity. I ought to have known you by your 
 photographs. The papers here have been full of them." 
 
 "I may at all events thank them," he said, "for pro- 
 viding me with a proof of my identity. And now, 
 madam, if you are good enough to think me trustworthy, 
 what I would venture to propose is this: that I should 
 
 9
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 see Miss Vivian is that her name ? safe to her own 
 door myself, and leave you free to attend to your other 
 charges, who had better be off at once, for the drizzle has 
 begun already." 
 
 Miss Hazel's face was by this time beaming with grati- 
 fication and relief. 
 
 "Miss Vivian, my dear," she said, "do you hear what 
 this gentleman proposes? This is Sir Rawlin Stantor. 
 We all of us know his name, and we hope he will soon 
 be member for our part of the county. He offers, with 
 most obliging kindness, to accompany you straight home. 
 Sir Rawlin Stantor Miss Wynn Vivian. Miss Wynn 
 Vivian Sir Rawlin Stantor. Lady Susannah will be 
 perfectly satisfied if I trust you to his discretion." 
 
 The girl signified her acquiescence in words that were 
 hardly distinguishable, but her face, though it still was 
 pale, lit up as her eyes caught those of her promised 
 escort. 
 
 "Well, then," Miss Hazel continued, addressing the 
 rest of her flock, "it is high time that we were moving. 
 So now, step out briskly, and be careful where you're 
 going in the mist." 
 
 Miss Hazel's allusion to the mist was very far from 
 being uncalled for. A puff of wind had so thickened it 
 about the path which she and her little company now 
 proceeded to take that they were very soon invisible 
 from the spot where they had been lately standing, 
 while the two who were left behind could now hardly 
 distinguish any objects but each other.
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 THE young girl and this strange protector of hers, 
 whom she had never seen before, found themselves 
 absolutely alone together in what seemed to be a bound- 
 less solitude. For the moment they could do nothing 
 but remain patiently where they were, while isolating 
 vapor floated and soaked around them. 
 
 "Thank Heaven, they're gone!" she said, with a deep 
 sigh of relief. " How good of you to take compassion 
 on me! I shall soon be better now. All the same, I 
 am not feeling very firm on my feet yet. Will you let 
 me stay quiet for a moment, and will you help me to 
 steady myself ? It's my nerves are upset, not me. I'm 
 not a fool in reality." 
 
 Her figure, as she spoke, wavered a little, and, waiting 
 for no permission, she quietly took possession of his arm, 
 as though the fog were a ballroom and she, tired with 
 dancing, were giving herself to the care of a favorite and 
 familiar partner. A passer-by who had come upon them 
 might have taken them for a pair of lovers. 
 
 Here was a situation which Miss Hazel had not fore- 
 seen. The man's demeanor, however, could she have 
 witnessed it, would have done much to relieve her. 
 Allowing the girl to rest her weight on him as frankly 
 as inclination prompted her, he first talked a little about 
 thunder-storms and human nerves a subject which he 
 treated lightly and then went on to ask her a few 
 natural questions as to where her home was situated 
 and the relations with whom she lived. The conversa- 
 tion which thus resulted had evidently the effect of 
 calming her. Her present home, she told him, was 
 
 a II
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 something like a mile away. She was living there as a 
 supposed invalid, though she resented the term herself, 
 with an aunt and three cousins. The aunt, it appeared, 
 was a Lady Susannah Lipscombe. The family name of 
 the cousins two boys and a sister was Arundel. Her 
 lips, as she spoke of these matters, betrayed a certain 
 sense of amusement. 
 
 "One of the boys," she went on, "is Oswald. The 
 other is Mr. Hugo. The sister is Nina. She's ever so 
 many years older. Oswald writes poetry, and is going, 
 by-and-by, to be a diplomat. Nina keeps hens. But 
 you'll see what they're like yourself, for, of course, when 
 we get back, you will have to come in to tea." 
 
 The man, meanwhile, in spite of his seeming detach- 
 ment, had been watching her curiously, with a critical 
 and increasing interest. The piquancy of her face, with 
 its astonishingly delicate skin, produced an impression 
 on him of something more formed and decided than is 
 usually met with in the faces of young girls; while the 
 well-controlled modulations of her voice, her unhesitat- 
 ing choice of words, and the accent of mundane experi- 
 ence which betrayed itself in her mention of her relations, 
 all made him feel that a woman rather than a girl was 
 leaning on him a feeling which was subtly accentuated 
 by the various details of her dress. Her outer garment, 
 which was white, with red collar and cuffs, could, as was 
 obvious to even his obtuse male mind, have come only 
 from a master among ladies' tailors. It was equally 
 obvious that a pearl which nestled at her throat was more 
 valuable than similar ornaments generally worn by girls ; 
 and a movement of the gloved and slenderly propor- 
 tioned hand, which lay on his arm unflinchingly, let slip 
 into sight a bracelet with a curious device in diamonds 
 a miniature dove half hidden in something that might 
 have passed for a saucer, if it had not been that under 
 it twinkled the word "Nest." 
 
 She was silent for a time, when she had given her 
 account of her family, and her fingers began to trifle 
 
 12
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 with the folds of her companion's sleeve, as though she 
 were considering the pattern of it. 
 
 " I ought," she said, "to apologize for taking up your 
 time like this. Are you sure you don't mind my drag- 
 ging you, I don't know how far, out of your way?" She 
 looked up at him with appeal between her long eye- 
 lashes. 
 
 "Yes," he replied, laughing, "I think I may say I'm 
 sure. ... Is this nature or art ?" the man could not avoid 
 asking himself. "If it is art," he reflected, "she is a 
 finished coquette already." 
 
 Her eyes were once more cast down, and her lashes 
 made a dark shade on the returning color of her cheek. 
 
 "You," she said, slowly, in a tone of meditative con- 
 tent, " are a strong and very restful person. It's getting 
 clearer at last. In a minute I shall be up to walking. 
 To be supported by you has given me confidence." 
 
 Surprised at length out of his carefully guarded re- 
 serve by the tone of this culminating utterance, the man 
 laid his hand on hers. 
 
 "My dear," he exclaimed, "thank you." Then he 
 abruptly recovered himself and drew a little away from 
 her. " Tell me," he said. He paused, and she saw that 
 he was slightly smiling. " Tell me " and he spoke with 
 a sort of teasing slowness " do I give you more con- 
 fidence than the 'Nut'?" 
 
 She snatched her hand from his arm and broke into 
 an amused laugh. 
 
 "How on earth," she said, "did you know that she 
 was called that?" 
 
 He solved the mystery, and they both of them laughed 
 once more. 
 
 " Ah," she said, "the mist is clearing. If you're ready 
 to start, I am. We can see the path quite plainly. It 
 runs between those bushes. But wait, please, for one 
 moment. See, there's a gleam of sunshine. My cousin, 
 Mr. Hugo, who's a man of science, or a boy of science, or 
 a baby of science, says that the world was all made out of 
 
 13
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 vapor. You might think he was right now. Bush after 
 bush, tree after tree, is being born again. Do let us 
 wait and watch." 
 
 Her words, indeed, were not inapplicable to what was 
 actually happening. Through the mist, which was now 
 being dissipated almost as rapidly as it had been formed, 
 the shapes of remoter objects were, one after one, re- 
 appearing. The gorse bushes grew distinct again, and 
 then in the quarter toward which their path would take 
 them loomed, a little way off, the darkness of a wood of 
 fir-trees. On all sides the opaque whiteness was turning 
 to a transparent silver, through which it became grad- 
 ually manifest that the gorse-field formed the highest 
 portion of a great promontory or peninsula, several miles 
 in length and possibly two in breadth, the ground de- 
 scending indistinctly in three directions toward the sea, 
 and the sea itself in places growing faintly visible also. 
 Then, through the straight trunks and the blotted foliage 
 of the wood, certain chalk-white surfaces showed them- 
 selves, too definite in their outline to be remnants of the 
 retreating mist. What these were was not at first ap- 
 parent, but presently, as the air grew clearer, they turned 
 into the walls of villas. Then as the pair, beginning 
 their walk, drew near them the wood was seen to over- 
 hang a gulf of subjacent landscape, in whose depths 
 houses innumerable rose out of mysterious gardens, and 
 spires and crescents were glimmering on the steepness of 
 lower hills; while the promontory on its landward side 
 revealed, beyond fields and hedgerows, a line of buildings, 
 which crossed it from sea to sea, and imprisoned a whole 
 region of country within the cordon of a bewildering 
 town. 
 
 Such, when viewed from the heights of this primitive 
 rural oasis, was Southquay, of all the watering-places in 
 Britain, and perhaps in Europe, the most remarkable 
 for the charm of its situation, and at one time for its 
 social brilliance. 
 
 Sir Rawlin and Miss Vivian, having looked at the
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 panorama long enough, abandoned their desultory pace 
 and began to step out in earnest. 
 
 "When I was a boy," he said, "all the world used to 
 come here Russian princes, dethroned French emperors, 
 great singers, beautiful American heiresses, and a third 
 of fashionable London. Every day, at every corner, 
 there were chances of unimaginable meetings. The 
 whole place to me, in those days, seemed a world of 
 romance and wonder. I had not seen it, till yesterday, 
 for more than twenty years. The link that binds me to 
 it now is, I fear, not romantic." 
 
 "Yes," she asked "yes? And what sort of link is 
 that?" 
 
 " I have," he said, " so you told me, been lucky enough 
 to inspire you with confidence in me. I had better ex- 
 plain to you who it is you confide in. Miss Hazel rec- 
 ognized my name, and I think your aunt will find that 
 it at least guarantees my respectability; but to you it 
 can have meant nothing. Well, down on the Parade, 
 where I dare say you often walk, you have perhaps 
 noticed an exceedingly inartistic statue. It is meant to 
 represent my father. My father owned, and I now own 
 instead of him, most of the land on which this town is 
 built. For that reason I have been invited to stand here 
 as a parliamentary candidate. If you introduce me to 
 your friends, they will have no difficulty in identifying me." 
 
 She looked up at him quickly, and astonished him 
 more than ever by taking one of his bare hands, which 
 were firm and finely formed, in hers. 
 
 "You have certainly helped me," she said, "to ex- 
 plain you to my aunt Susannah; but I myself may I 
 tell you this? felt confidence in you the moment I 
 heard your voice, and especially when I saw your hands. 
 I'm sure that hands must, in some ways, tell one much 
 more than faces. There are certain people whom I like 
 more than like whom I would be guided by, and who 
 are ever so far above me; but if I shake hands with them 
 I shudder as if I had touched a toad," 
 
 15
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 Sir Rawlin was once more startled out of the reserve 
 which he had been so judiciously cultivating. 
 
 "Your own hands," he said, "naturally make you 
 fastidious. Is that your name which I see on your 
 bracelet Nest? It's a Welsh name, isn't it? It's a 
 pretty name, an interesting name Nest." 
 
 He articulated this last word in a way which left it 
 doubtful whether he was merely considering its qualities 
 or was actually addressing his companion by it. In 
 either case he gave no offence. Nevertheless, immedi- 
 ately afterward, Miss Vivian, with a demure smile, light- 
 ly disengaged herself from all visible contact with him, 
 and was walking by his side with a decorum of which 
 even a Miss Hazel would have approved. 
 
 The reason of this movement on her part was of a 
 very obvious kind. They had, during the course of their 
 conversation, been slowly descending the hill under cov- 
 er of a belt of trees which stretched downward from 
 the wood like the thin tentacle of an octopus; but their 
 path ending in some steps, had at this moment thrust 
 them into a thoroughfare bordered with gas-lamps and 
 enlivened with the desultory passage of pedestrians, cabs, 
 and carriages. A little way off was a cab-stand and a 
 row of meek Bath-chairs, and close to these rose a large, 
 elaborate church, from which a scanty congregation, 
 mostly of the female sex, was being played into the open 
 air by a faintly audible voluntary. 
 
 "That," said the girl, with a note of gravity in her 
 voice, "as of course you know, is All Saints'." 
 
 Sir Rawlin surveyed the building. " And so All 
 Saints'," he exclaimed, "has grown into that cathedral! 
 In my time it was like a corn exchange ornamented with 
 stucco pinnacles. But I ought to know it, for there is 
 the old vicarage the same old, sleepy, opulent-looking 
 villa, with the same shrubberies hiding it in dignified 
 and assured seclusion. And there are the elms, too. 
 I'm glad they have spared the elms. And between the 
 vicarage and the church there used to be a gravelled 
 
 16
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 space, something like a cathedral close, with some school 
 buildings at the end of it and a circle of turf in the 
 middle." 
 
 " Look in there," said the girl. " It's just as you de- 
 scribe it still, except that the schools were rebuilt, I 
 think, a year ago. Mr. Barton did most of that; and 
 the church is only just finishec 1 . If you admire the out- 
 side, you'd admire the inside more. You never heard 
 such an organ or such an exquisite choir. Come in and 
 see. It won't take us a moment." 
 
 As she spoke they were nearing the western door. 
 When they reached it she turned to enter, casting at 
 him over her shoulder a glance which bade him follow 
 her and which seemed unused to refusals. He obeyed, 
 and, walking behind her, he was presently in the gloom 
 within a gloom which was faintly pungent with the 
 odor of haunting incense. The performance of the or- 
 ganist was over. No solitary loiterer was visible in the 
 hushed obscurity. Arch and pillar were mysterious, 
 and the windows were like dusty jewel-work. Sir Raw- 
 lin was impressed by the building far more than he ex- 
 pected to be. In the distant chancel an altar, dark with 
 embroidered purple, lifted its pale candles and its com- 
 pany of glimmering candlesticks. High above it the 
 genius of Anglo-Catholicism had hung a lighted lamp, 
 which here could only suggest the absence of the con- 
 secrated host, just as in Roman sanctuaries such lamps 
 denote its presence. The girl made a deep genuflection, 
 with the easy yet solemn grace of one to whom the act 
 was habitual; and then, touching her companion, said 
 to him, in a low whisper: 
 
 "Go up and see the reredos." 
 
 The touch on his arm became a gentle push, which, 
 though he was hardly aware of it, thrilled him with a 
 sense of intimacy. He went forward perfunctorily, not- 
 ing on the walls as he did so what must certainly be the 
 stations of the cross, and proceeded, having reached the 
 chancel, to scrutinize its medley of embroideries, brass, 
 
 17
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 and alabaster. These objects, though pretentious, were 
 very far from tawdry. They seemed to communicate 
 to the air a suggestion of austere plaintiveness, as though 
 a viewless Magdalen were watching there, with the 
 spikenard of her broken heart ready for the Divine Lover. 
 Sir Rawlin turned round to see how Miss Vivian was 
 demeaning herself, but found that she had not followed 
 him ; and presently, retracing his steps between the pale 
 congregated chairs, he came on her kneeling by a pillar 
 not far from the door. The daintiness of her white- 
 gloved hands and of the half-seen cheek that rested on 
 them, her red hockey-cap worn with a little capricious 
 tilt, and the faultless folds with which her coat accentu- 
 ated the grace of her attitude all these mundane nice- 
 ties, contrasted and yet perversely in harmony with her 
 air of absorbed devotion, invested her, for the man who 
 contemplated her, with a new ambiguous charm, as 
 though she represented all the passion which drives 
 women to confessionals, and the passion which they 
 bring there to confess; and this latent contrast pre- 
 mature in one so young was reimpressed on him by 
 the quick and unembarrassed movement with which she 
 rose from her knees as soon as he was standing close to 
 her, and by her eyes, which seemed with their welcome 
 to be taking renewed possession of him. 
 
 " I'm so glad you saw it," she said. " We'll go out 
 by the other door. It takes us into the place which you 
 called the cathedral close. Our shortest way is by a lit- 
 tle path near the school-house." 
 
 As they came forth into the daylight a cawing of rooks 
 saluted them. Miss Vivian led the way toward an ag- 
 gregation of parti-colored brick buildings whose pointed 
 arches looked raw under the boughs of the old elm-trees ; 
 and Sir Rawlin, engaged in observing them, did not at 
 first perceive that the opening of a narrow path, toward 
 which his guide was conducting him, was beset by some 
 mature ladies grouped, like magnetized articles, round 
 the person of a. tall cleric. This personage was address- 
 
 18
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 ing them with an air of reserved affability, when, hap- 
 pening to turn his head and catch sight of Miss Vivian, 
 he began bidding his auditors an almost abrupt adieu, 
 and with evident purpose in his eyes hastened toward 
 the new-comer. Even had she wished to do so she could 
 not have avoided stopping. Sir Rawlin at once moved 
 on a few paces, and then turned round and watched 
 him, not much pleased by the interruption. The cleric, 
 whose age appeared to be about five-and-thirty, was, as 
 his critic recognized, a man of striking appearance. His 
 general expression was intellectual, but his eyes were 
 those of a mystic, while his mouth suggested command 
 and a possible acerbity of temper. Acerbity, however, 
 was, at all events for the present, in complete abeyance. 
 Standing close to the girl, he spoke to her in confidential 
 and possessive undertones, to which her own manner in 
 replying showed that she thought them natural. Sir 
 Rawlin was conscious of something like impatient dis- 
 approval, which was slightly, though but slightly, miti- 
 gated when he saw that it was the young lady herself 
 who at length put an end to the conference with a hasty 
 extension of her hand and a still more hasty withdrawal 
 of it. 
 
 "Please," said the cleric, calling after her, "tell Lady 
 Susannah that I may be able to put in an appearance 
 for a minute or two, after all." 
 
 "Who," asked Sir Rawlin, when Miss Vivian was at 
 his side once more, "was the reverend gentleman, your 
 friend?" 
 
 With a quick movement the girl beat her palms to- 
 gether. She seemed to be brushing away some speck of 
 dirt from her gloves. 
 
 "He's a wonderful man," she said, gravely. "Every 
 one admires and looks up to him, but he's one of those 
 people whom I don't much care about shaking hands 
 with. That is Mr. Barton. He is, as a fact, only the 
 principal curate here, but the vicar is an invalid, and Mr. 
 Barton manages everything. He has money of his own,
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 and he has helped about finishing the church. He gave 
 the reredos, and he lives on dry toast himself. When 
 he preaches the church is crowded, and he has written 
 books about Church music and liturgies. My aunt 
 asked him to give me a few hints about singing. His 
 own voice is beautiful; it hardly sounds like a man's. 
 And those boys those cousins of mine who were 
 brought up by an infidel tutor, try to be witty by laugh- 
 ing at him, when they only show how silly they are. 
 But don't let us talk of Mr. Barton; he's quite outside 
 ordinary life. Shall I tell you something more about 
 ourselves? For very soon you'll be in the heart of our 
 family circle." 
 
 "Do," said Sir Rawlin, quite willing to change the 
 subject. "I'm particularly curious to hear about the 
 mysterious Mr. Hugo." 
 
 In Miss Vivian's answering laugh there was the same 
 note of amusement which his ears had detected in it 
 when he made his allusion to the Nut. 
 
 "Mr. Hugo," she said, "is the youngest; but we call 
 him Mr. Hugo because the servants do. He reads Dar- 
 win, and nasty little chemical hand-books, and seriously 
 pretends to think that we once used to be monkeys. 
 Oswald is happy in thinking that he has eyes like Byron's, 
 and that his heart is being always broken. But at the 
 same time he's amusing, and he means to die an am- 
 bassador. Aren't boys odd? Then you will see Nina, 
 who's a dear, when once you get over the fact that she 
 never can keep her hair straight, and won't let my maid 
 touch it for all the world. She manages all the house- 
 keeping, and she's really very religious, though she reads 
 Darwin also, and sometimes helps Mr. Hugo to make 
 slides for his microscope by squirting blue ink into bits 
 of raw liver and kidney. My beloved aunt Susannah 
 is a light among the old Southquay cats. She's 
 goodness itself, and gives half her money to the cler- 
 gy. Well, there's our household, and as for our 
 house which calls itself Cliff's End look! It's at 
 
 20
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 the bottom of this valley, all alone, behind those 
 woods." 
 
 The little path near the church had led them straight 
 into sloping meadows secreted among high hedgerows. 
 Primroses clustered by the gates. Cattle were being 
 driven home; and an ancient, thatched farm-house re- 
 vealed itself, flanked by orchards. Having followed a 
 thin brown track through this world of primitive quiet, 
 Sir Rawlin and Miss Vivian were now descending toward 
 a road which wound between the opposing hill-sides, and 
 finally brought them to a lodge with pointed windows, 
 having for its background a steep jungle of evergreens. 
 They turned in at the gate, and found themselves on a 
 long approach, which mounted the slope obliquely be- 
 tween hedges of clipped laurel, and ended in a wheel- 
 marked space, with the porch of the house fronting them. 
 
 Two closed flies were just moving away. "Look!" 
 exclaimed Miss Vivian. "When I asked you to come in, 
 I'd quite forgotten that Aunt Susannah has some of 
 those cats at tea to-day. Have you the courage to face 
 them? But no I'll tell you what. We'll go to the 
 school -room first, by the side door from the garden ; and 
 I'll take you in to my aunt as soon as the ground is 
 clear." 
 
 Passing through an aperture in a bank of shrubs and 
 rock-work, they came out on a garden which seemed 
 literally to overhang the sea, the house revealing itself 
 as an old-fashioned stuccoed villa, with gables and clus- 
 tering chimneys, and a large protruding wing, the whole 
 being sheltered at the back by a grove of enormous ilex- 
 trees. It was to a door in this wing that Miss Vivian led 
 her friend, keeping as far as possible out of sight of the 
 main windows.
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 THE two, on entering, found themselves in a small, 
 dim lobby, into which, through the thin crevice 
 left by a door ajar, a sound of voices penetrated from 
 some room within. The girl took her friend's arm in a 
 manner which invited him to listen. The voices were 
 two in number, and the words uttered by each were cal- 
 culated to arrest attention. 
 
 "Peter," said the first voice "oh, my love, thou art 
 fair! Thou hast dove's eyes within thy locks. Sit there 
 on your altar and accept of our evening sacrifice." 
 
 "James," said the second voice "darling James, 
 come here ! Why does my Jemmie go about pretending 
 to be a dog when he knows quite well that he really is a 
 beautiful brown lizard?" 
 
 "Wait!" Miss Vivian whispered. "I'll go in and an- 
 nounce you." 
 
 He heard her entrance greeted by exclamations of 
 "Nest!" which were followed first by a murmur and 
 then by a short silence. Then the door reopened, and 
 Miss Vivian's voice said: "Come!" 
 
 The next moment he was in a room, large, low, en- 
 cumbered with untidy tables, and surrounded with cup- 
 boards and bookcases, which had just begun to flicker 
 in the firelight. From a chair by one of the tables, which 
 was laden with a substantial tea, a lady with a smiling 
 and rather eager face had risen, and was freeing herself 
 from the embraces of a brown, oblong dachshund. Two 
 boys, or youths, were in the act of rising also ; while en- 
 throned and purring loudly on a large box against the 
 wall a magnificent Angora cat, with a dish of scraps bc- 
 
 22
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 fore it, was wiping a whiskered cheek with a large, but- 
 tery paw. 
 
 Miss Vivian introduced her friend without any at- 
 tempt at ceremony. "Here is Nina," she said; "here 
 is Oswald; and that over there is Mr. Hugo." 
 
 The three exhibited a sense of having somehow been 
 taken at unawares. Mr. Hugo in particular assumed a 
 gloomy sedateness. He looked older than his years, and 
 he had dark, solemn eyes; but his face, when he smiled, 
 became almost like a baby's. His brother, who had an 
 air of the world about him, and who was, moreover, very 
 well dressed, justified Miss Vivian's description of him 
 by an expression which was intended to be melancholy, 
 but which struggled at the corners of his mouth with the 
 forces of lurking mischief. For him the recovery of his 
 self-possession was the work of a moment only; and 
 there was something in Sir Rawlin's manner which so 
 immediately accommodated itself to the situation that 
 the others were soon in the way of being equally at their 
 ease also. This happy result was completed, while Miss 
 Arundel was providing him with some tea, by an ob- 
 servation on his part, the effects of which were perfectly 
 magical. 
 
 "Your cat," he said, "sits there as if he were an 
 Egyptian deity." 
 
 " He is a deity," said Oswald, reading sympathy in the 
 guest's face. " We prefer him to the bull of Mithra at 
 least, for purposes of home worship. That box is his 
 altar. Those little scraps of tea-cake are the remains 
 of his burnt-offerings. We've been reciting his evening 
 office, which is taken from the Song of Solomon." 
 
 Miss Nina went over to the altar and began stroking 
 the cat's fur. "He must," she said, "have been sacri- 
 ficing a mouse to his own self in the garden, for he's 
 left half his tea-cake, yet his beautiful sides are bulging. 
 Oh, Mr. Hugo, how dreadful! Do come here and look! 
 He's been gnawing the kidney which we injected with 
 green ink for your microscope." 
 
 23
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 Ignoring the scuffle which ensued, Oswald glanced at 
 Miss Vivian with a cautiously dawning smile. 
 
 "The real reason," he said, gravely, "why he partly 
 rejects our offerings is that he has been catching mice in 
 Mr. Barton's church, and has there learned to demand 
 from us a more advanced ritual. He wants us to intone, 
 and he would like processions, and a banner or two. I 
 have," he went on, " been making a sketch of the sort of 
 thing he wants " ; and he handed a sheet of paper to Sir 
 Rawlin, which had been lying half concealed among the 
 tea-things. On it was a robed priest, strutting with up- 
 turned eyes, and bearing a banner whose device was a 
 yawning cat. The cleverness of the drawing was ex- 
 traordinary. Sir Rawlin at once recognized the features 
 of Mr. Barton. 
 
 Miss Vivian approached and looked over Sir Rawlin 's 
 shoulder. "Oswald," she exclaimed, making a snatch 
 at the picture, " if you're silly and irreverent, I'll never 
 be in love with you again ! Sir Rawlin, don't encourage 
 him." 
 
 At this moment an odd little pink-cheeked butler, 
 with the intimate smile of long family service, appeared 
 at the door, inquiring if they wished for lights. 
 
 "Berry," said Miss Vivian, "who's left in the draw- 
 ing-room? Go, like a dear. Just peep in and tell me." 
 
 "For the time being, miss," he replied, "there's no 
 one. A good few have come and gone, but her ladyship 
 is expecting more." 
 
 "Then in that case," said Miss Vivian to her friend, 
 " I'll avail myself of the lucid interval, and prepare Aunt 
 Susannah for your advent." 
 
 She had hardly left the room when a new sensation 
 was created by a sound between a cough and a hiss 
 which came from under a sofa. 
 
 "Oh," cried Miss Arundel, "it's Peter! I'm sure he's 
 going to be sick. I hope he will be, the darling. I must 
 carry him from the room at once." 
 
 Mr. Hugo assured her that "the chromosomes were 
 
 24
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 not toxic." The cat, however, was hastily caught, and 
 deported in Miss Arundel's arms; accordingly, Sir Raw- 
 lin found himself alone with the two boys. Mr. Hugo 
 by this time had retreated to a table in the window, and 
 was contemplating in ostentatious seclusion a microscope 
 and several saucers, on which were lying lumps of raw 
 animal matter. His demeanor being obviously a mute 
 plea for attention, Sir Rawlin approached the table, 
 whereupon Mr. Hugo informed him that the microscope 
 was of unusual power, and would reveal at that moment, 
 if only the light permitted, a wonderful section of the 
 heart of a diseased jackdaw. Then, casually pointing to 
 a number of stoppered bottles 
 
 "Those," he said, "contain sterilized gelatine. As 
 soon as I can get a little radium I am going to produce 
 life." 
 
 "And you," said Sir Rawlin to Oswald, "create life 
 in another way. That sketch was uncommonly clever. 
 I have just seen the gentleman depicted. Have you 
 anything else you could show me?" 
 
 The boy, with hesitating pleasure, brought forth a 
 large portfolio. Its contents were mostly caricatures, 
 but among these were some water-colors which caught 
 Sir Rawlin's eye fanciful sketches of scenes evidently 
 meant to be Oriental, and peopled with lovers whose 
 birthplace was the pages of Moore or Byron. 
 
 "You've a fine imagination," said Sir Rawlin. "Have 
 you ever been in the East?" 
 
 "No," said Oswald. "Have you?" 
 
 "Yes," said Sir Rawlin, smiling. "I have been there 
 for many years." 
 
 The boy, who had been seated, pushed back his chair 
 and rose. "I beg you to forgive me," he said, with a 
 polished and yet ingenuous courtesy, "but just now my 
 cousin's account of your kindness to her hardly left me 
 time to realize who you were. I was reading only yes- 
 terday about your connection with the Persian Treaty, 
 and your book of travels is up -stairs by my bed now." 
 
 25
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 He blushed and checked himself, as though fearing 
 he had said too much. 
 
 "My book," said Sir Rawlin, laying a kindly hand on 
 his shoulder, "would, if it could only speak, try to tell 
 you how it alued your compliment." 
 
 The return of Miss Vivian prevented his adding more. 
 "Aunt Susannah, being Scotch," she began, "has nine 
 hundred and ninety-nine cousins. She's persuaded that 
 you are the thousandth, and is quite eager to tell you 
 so. But wheels were crunching up the drive as I slipped 
 back through the hall, and it will shorten your sufferings 
 if you wait here a little longer. Then I'll commit you 
 to Berry, for I daren't venture again into the lion's den 
 myself." 
 
 The girl's eyes were sparkling. The air of the room 
 when she entered seemed to quicken with a new vitality, 
 and Mr. Hugo stole back to the tea-table, nibbled a 
 sponge-cake, and smiled at her. 
 
 "Oswald," she exclaimed, catching sight of the port- 
 folio, "when you're not silly you're clever. Do some 
 pictures for Sir Rawlin of the people he'll meet in the 
 drawing-room . ' ' 
 
 Sir Rawlin seconded the request, and the artist hast- 
 ened to comply, the others, in amused expectation, watch- 
 ing the movements of his pencil. 
 
 "Well," he said, "we'll begin with Miss Mittens, the 
 authoress of Withered Bents. Her head is always down 
 like that, and her eyes are always up, and her hands are 
 always crossed on her buckle, when they're not holding 
 a teacup. And here is Miss Greendale, the authoress of 
 Love in a Basque Village. Her eyes roll with a gentle 
 ogle, and she gesticulates with her hands sweetly, in- 
 stead of folding them. I don't know for certain that 
 either of them will be there to-day, but I can promise Sir 
 Rawlin this one, if she hasn't come and gone already. 
 This is Mrs. Morriston Campbell only I'm not making 
 her nearly fat and vulgar enough." 
 
 "Don't," said Mr. Hugo, "forget to put in her wart." 
 
 26
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 "She once," Oswald continued, "knew a royal prin- 
 cess at Bordighera, who graciously made use of her 
 carriage every other day for a month, and she has never 
 thought or talked about anything else since. She sits 
 swelling in a chair like that, as if she were a kind of 
 Sinai and every beast of a common person who ap- 
 proached her deserved to die. She's simply apoplectic 
 with pomposity. Here's old Mrs. Summerfield. She's 
 really a lady. Sir Rawlin will know her at once by her 
 wig and her poke-bonnet. These" and the artist here 
 drew a number of blank ovals "must be held to repre- 
 sent the widows of old Southquay incumbents. What 
 shall I do now? Oh yes. Nest, watch this." Under 
 his pencil, as he spoke, a figure began to grow, drawn 
 from the feet upward, and revealing gradually a long, 
 clerical coat; but it ended at the collar, headless. " I am 
 not worthy," he murmured, "to depict the all-sacred 
 countenance." 
 
 "Oswald," exclaimed Miss Vivian, "you're an idiot!" 
 Before Sir Rawlin could realize what had become of her, 
 she had reached a corner of the room in which stood an 
 object not previously noticed by him. It was a gramo- 
 phone, which began forthwith to emit a well-known air 
 from "Carmen." "Oswald," she said, "listen," and she 
 sang a few words with the instrument. "Si je t'aime, 
 prends garde a toi." 
 
 Oswald refused to look. "Do," he said, "stop that 
 horrible grating thing." 
 
 The girl did so. "Sir Rawlin," she said, "you had 
 better come along with me. I won't, as I told you, go 
 back into the drawing-room myself, but we'll get hold 
 of Berry, and he shall be lord chamberlain." 
 
 The two disappeared accordingly. "My dear Nest," 
 said Oswald, when she re-entered, "you're no doubt 
 very much a young lady of the world, but you ought, 
 when you go to pick up your German at Miss Aldritch's, 
 to take lessons in the art of introducing people. I never 
 gathered from what you said perhaps you didn't know 
 3 27
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 yourself that your gallant knight-errant, who delivered 
 you from the jaws of the thunder, is our greatest Asiatic 
 diplomatist. That's what they call him in the Times.' 1 
 
 Sir Rawlin, meanwhile, had been ushered into a long, 
 faded drawing-room, where his hostess, who met him at 
 the door, had been evidently looking out for his arrival. 
 She had trustful eyes alight in a bony face of fifty, and 
 her speech, slightly plaintive in its intonations, suggested 
 the habitual attitude of a Christian and well-born lady 
 toward a world where all husbands die, and not all die 
 as wealthy as they deserve to do. 
 
 "Sir Rawlin," she said, "this is really pleasant. I 
 knew most of your mother's family. I shouldn't won- 
 der if we were related. Thank you, a thousand times, 
 for your kindness to my poor little pretty niece. If you 
 could stay till these people are gone, I should like to ask, 
 and also to tell you, one or two things about her. I know 
 you've had school-room tea, but will you look on at 
 ours?" 
 
 Still talking, they slowly approached a group, con- 
 sisting of some dozen persons, at the farther end of the 
 room. Sir Rawlin could hardly help laughing, it so 
 closely resembled that which Oswald's sketch had repre- 
 sented. Mrs. Summerfield and Mrs. Morriston Camp- 
 bell he recognized at the first glance, and then the back 
 of Mr. Barton inclining itself toward some bonneted lis- 
 teners. His hostess having looked about to discover an 
 appropriate seat for him, he was presently conscious that 
 his own name was being murmured in connection with 
 that of Mrs. Morriston Campbell. Mrs. Morriston Camp- 
 bell, however, altogether failed to catch it, and, having 
 acknowledged his bow in consequence with a freezing 
 royal stare, was putting him in his place with a few 
 languid syllables, when old Mrs. Summerfield saved her 
 from further trouble. 
 
 "Did I hear some one say," she asked, "that this is 
 Sir Rawlin Stantor? Sir Rawlin, I'm too blind to see 
 you, but I knew your dear father well, and I'm afraid I 
 
 28
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 must add your grandfather. Yes, and Lady Emily, 
 too. Lady Emily was my oldest friend. We went to- 
 gether to our first drawing-room. I do hope you're 
 going to stand for us, and keep out those shocking Radi- 
 cals shocking quite shocking who want to ruin the 
 country." 
 
 Mrs. Morriston Campbell listened, her mouth and 
 eyes wide open, and with a sudden readjustment of her 
 features was getting herself into position to recapture 
 the angel whom she had sent away unawares, when Lady 
 Susannah rendered the attempt fruitless by saying to 
 Sir Rawlin: " I don't want to interrupt you, but there's 
 somebody here who has to go in a minute, and who has 
 a particular reason for wanting to make your acquaint- 
 ance." 
 
 The person referred to proved to be none other than 
 Mr. Barton. Sir Rawlin, whose prepossessions were not 
 very favorable to the priest, and who fancied that he had 
 detected in him certain drawing-room affectations as a 
 tea-drinker, was now impressed by him in a way which 
 he had not at all anticipated. Mr. Barton's eyes were 
 still the eyes of a mystic, and the smile which he bestow- 
 ed on his hostess was a little oversweet and finikin, but 
 his manner, when he addressed Sir Rawlin, was courte- 
 ous, alert, and dignified, and the mystical eyes acquired 
 an expression of dry judgment. 
 
 "I am glad," he said, "Sir Rawlin, to have this op- 
 portunity of meeting you. If, as I presume, it is your 
 object, before committing yourself, to see what the state 
 of affairs in this constituency really is, I could give you 
 some useful information which you won't get from the 
 party agents. The fact is that at Southquay as you, 
 after your long absence, have had probably no means of 
 realizing the strictly Church vote is a very important 
 factor; and I think I should be in a position to tell you 
 very much better than the agents can what the numeri- 
 cal value of the Church vote is, and also the precious 
 grounds on which it would be withheld or given. If I 
 
 29
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 might call on you, or if you cared to call on me, I could 
 show you in half an hour or so very much how the land 
 lies." 
 
 " That," said Sir Rawlin, " is just what I want to get 
 at. The party agent is coming to see me after break- 
 fast to-morrow morning, and if I should find you at 
 home between twelve and one I would come on straight 
 to you, with a view to completing my education." 
 
 Mr. Barton declared himself delighted with this ar- 
 rangement. He explained where his house was situ- 
 ated, and having hastily surveyed the room, as if look- 
 ing in vain for somebody, declared that, being a busy 
 man, he was unable to remain longer. 
 
 Mr. Barton's departure was a signal for other leave- 
 takings. Mrs. Morriston Campbell, indeed, showed a 
 tendency to outstay the rest, in the hope of inducing Sir 
 Rawlin to do her the honor of dining with her; but, 
 finding him not responsive, fired a parting shot at him 
 by saying to Lady Susannah, in making her last adieus: 
 
 "The dear princess, from whom I had a long and such 
 a sweet letter this morning, particularly asked to be 
 remembered to you. Is not she wonderful ? She never 
 forgets friends." 
 
 "And now," said Lady Susannah, when she and Sir 
 Rawlin were left alone together, "sit down there and be 
 comfortable. I want you to tell me what it was that 
 really happened. The thunder seemed to me nothing. 
 What did my niece do? Did she look as if she were 
 going to faint, or did she seem hysterical ? Or what ?" 
 
 "No, no," said Sir Rawlin. "There was thunder in 
 the air, no doubt, while she was still playing hockey, but 
 she never felt it at all till the excitement of the game was 
 over. When the actual thunder came well, if I hadn't 
 been there, and able to reassure her, she might have 
 fainted. That's possible. For ten minutes or so her 
 nerves were more or less unstrung. But she quickly 
 recovered herself much more quickly than my sister 
 would have done, who, whenever it thunders, goes and 
 
 30
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 hides in the coal-cellar. As a matter of fact, she showed 
 singular self-control, and I should judge from her be- 
 havior that by this time she can hardly recall what was 
 the matter with her." 
 
 "You relieve me," said Lady Susannah, "immensely. 
 To tell you the truth, this young lady is the cause of very 
 great anxiety. In most respects she seems perfectly 
 well, but her nerves were upset somehow by a serious 
 attack of influenza, and ever since then any over-excite- 
 ment has been apt to produce a breakdown of one kind 
 or another. On one occasion she was unconscious for an 
 hour. A thunder-storm was the cause in that case, so 
 you see why I'm so much relieved by what you tell me 
 about this afternoon. I hope it shows that she really is 
 getting stronger. But there's one thing which I've often 
 thought myself and the doctors say so too, and what 
 you said about the hockey reminds me of it that what 
 she wants most of all is to have her mind steadily in- 
 terested. This hockey is good in its way; and then she's 
 been studying German. But still I'm afraid that there 
 is not very much to interest her. She's oddly old for her 
 years, and she looks on the boys as children; and I can't 
 help fancying at times that she feels very much alone. 
 Nina and I poor child ! are not exactly companions for 
 her. Of course there is Mr. Barton, who has given her 
 some advice about her singing; but naturally he is dif- 
 ferent. And there again there's a difficulty of just the 
 opposite kind. There can, I think, be no objection to 
 my telling you about it." 
 
 Sir Rawlin, with a quickened interest, begged Lady 
 Susannah to proceed. 
 
 "Well," she said, "the case is this. My niece, though 
 you mightn't think it, has strong religious feelings, but 
 she was brought up abroad, under not very fortunate 
 circumstances, and it appears that she has never been 
 confirmed. There is to be a confirmation here at Whit- 
 suntide, and at her own earnest wish Mr. Barton has 
 begun to prepare her for it. That in itself is just as one
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 would pray it might be; but I can't help fearing that her 
 over-emotional nature may get troubled about the matter 
 in a way that her body cannot yet stand." 
 
 "What," asked Sir Rawlin, "suggests to you this 
 particular danger?" 
 
 "Oh," said Lady Susannah, "little trifles which one 
 can't help observing sometimes. For instance, she's 
 fond of sketching; and she sits sometimes under some 
 fir-trees just outside the garden making studies of the 
 rocks and waves. Well, I've found her there once or 
 twice, and she seemed to be in a kind of dream. I've 
 one of the sketches here. I keep it locked up in a drawer. 
 You'll see why, when I show it to you. There's nothing 
 in the sketch itself, but just look at the back." 
 
 On the back of the drawing which Lady Susannah 
 committed to him were a few faintly pencilled lines of 
 what seemed to be an attempted poem. With some 
 difficulty he deciphered the following words : 
 
 "Olives gleaming 
 And the lamp of Mary beaming 
 
 Where the lone shrine fronts the sea. 
 Hesper, star of waves and twilights, 
 What is this that I remember, 
 
 Lost 'twixt Mary's lamp and thee?" 
 
 "Doesn't that," said Lady Susannah, as Sir Rawlin 
 returned the paper, "strike you as rather morbid? If 
 she were quite well otherwise, one wouldn't think any- 
 thing about it." 
 
 "She must," said Sir Rawlin, after a pause, and with- 
 out disputing this criticism, "be a very interesting girl. 
 But surely in a place like Southquay, where, though it's 
 not what it once was, all sorts of people are constantly 
 coming and going, it would be possible for her sometimes 
 to see a little society that would interest her and keep 
 her from indulging in feelings well, ' morbid ' is perhaps 
 the right name for them." 
 
 "I believe," said Lady Susannah, "that you're a very 
 
 32
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 sensible person. But I myself go nowhere now. I know 
 none of these charming people, and my own acquaint- 
 ances, as you may have seen, are hardly very interesting 
 to a girl. Still, I might try. I might get up a little 
 luncheon-party. My cousin George Carlton, who knows 
 everybody, is coming to me in a few days. Anyhow, Sir 
 Rawlin, you must let me tell you this. I can see that 
 this meeting with yourself has been a real stimulus and 
 pleasure to her. You, at all events, if you're not too 
 busy, will, I hope, come and see us again." 
 
 Sir Rawlin replied that in a day or two he would do 
 so with the utmost pleasure, and he and Lady Susannah 
 parted on the best of terms. His immediate experi- 
 ences of Cliff's End, however, were not quite completed 
 yet. He realized, when he was in the hall, that he had 
 left his hat and stick in the school-room; but just as the 
 butler was preparing to go and fetch them a rustle of 
 skirts was heard to proceed from somewhere, and Miss 
 Vivian appeared with the missing articles in her hand. 
 
 "All right, Berry," she said, "I'll let Sir Rawlin out. 
 I was waiting to give you these. Look! Do you see 
 how dark it is? I will show you your way down the 
 drive. You didn't want to go, did you, without saying 
 good-bye to me? No!" she exclaimed, taking his arm 
 as they emerged into the mild obscurity, " you mustn't 
 go that way, or you'll fall over a thousand flower-pots. 
 It's lucky I was here to warn you. And now we're 
 alone, tell me how did you get on with Aunt Susan- 
 nah?" His answer appeared to satisfy her. "And 
 Nina and Oswald and Mr. Hugo," she continued 
 "what did you think of them? They're dears, now the 
 boys are no longer in love with me. For the first three 
 weeks I was here, if ever I whispered with Oswald, Mr. 
 Hugo looked as if he would have liked to throw his mi- 
 croscope at him, so I soon had to stop all that. I must 
 show you one day the poem Mr. Hugo wrote to me, in 
 which he compared my eyes to lenses. But tell me 
 this: When I took you into the school -room, did you 
 
 33
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 think that I'd brought you into a regular home for lu- 
 natics?" 
 
 "My dear," said Sir Rawlin, "I thought them all de- 
 lightful. I should like, if I could, to help on Oswald in 
 his profession. But here we are at the gates. Thank 
 you for your escort, and good-bye." 
 
 She took hold of the lapels of his coat. He could feel, 
 though he could hardly see, her eyes through the dark- 
 ness looking at him. He knew that, like her eyes, her 
 lips also were lifted. He took her by both her hands, 
 but otherwise he kept his distance. 
 
 "Must you go?" she said. "Well, I suppose you 
 must. I hope you'll come and see me again. Will you 
 do that, or won't you?" 
 
 His voice, he found to his surprise, was less under his 
 control than his body was. 
 
 "Nest," he said, "yes, of course I will. I've settled 
 it all with your aunt. I hope to see you again very soon 
 indeed. You talk of hope. Your life is all before you. 
 You have made me forget that mine is a Pandora's box 
 which has not even hope left in it." 
 
 "Don't you hope," she retorted and he divined that 
 she was half smiling "don't you hope to become a 
 member of Parliament?" 
 
 " I have one thing left in the box," he said, "but it is 
 not hope. It's work to work while it is called to-day 
 to take the next step, or to refrain from taking it. I 
 am refraining from something now." 
 
 He walked away hardly conscious of the manner in 
 which he had just addressed her, but touched with the 
 sort of embarrassment which a man is apt to experience 
 who, having patted a lost dog, is followed by it to his 
 own door.
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 THOUGH Sir Rawlin Stantor was the owner of most 
 of the soil of South quay, his father and his grand- 
 father had so burdened the estate by their extravagance 
 that the income which he personally drew from it had 
 been little more than sufficient for his ease as a bachelor, 
 in his original profession of diplomacy. His affairs, in- 
 deed, by this time showed some signs of improvement; 
 otherwise he could not have contemplated the expense 
 of a parliamentary contest. But the old home of his 
 family in the neighborhood of Southquay was let, and 
 his present quarters were in a well-knowa^private hotel, 
 occupying the centre of an imposing ancr secluded cres- 
 cent, which looked across its private gardens on a minia- 
 ture bay below. 
 
 His sitting-room with its high walls, whose expanses 
 of watered paper were ornamented with huge engrav- 
 ings of the coronation of Queen Victoria, derived next 
 morning, when he entered it, an aspect of habitation 
 and brightness from the warm spring sunshine, from 
 several bowls of flowers, and a bachelor breakfast which 
 was glimmering near the fire. He himself, however, pre- 
 sented to this agreeable scene a face overclouded with 
 indications of some pensive annoyance. 
 
 Early in life he had been involved by a worthless 
 woman in an entanglement which had injured for the 
 time both his reputation and prospects. His own con- 
 duct and character had been subsequently more than 
 vindicated; and he had every excuse for supposing, 
 with the rash wisdom of twenty-five, that he knew wom- 
 en far too well to be ever again moved by them. When 
 
 35
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 he was beginning his career at Paris as a good-looking 
 boyish attach^, the black-eyed wife of the minister of 
 some South- American republic, being anxious to extort 
 a divorce from her legal lord and master, pitched on him 
 as an instrument suitable for involving her in the req- 
 uisite indiscretion. She contrived to make him com- 
 promise her at some hotel, though, so far as he was con- 
 cerned, in a purely platonic fashion, by inducing him to 
 listen in her bedroom to a tale of her wrongs and sor- 
 rows. A duel with the husband followed, in which Sir 
 Rawlin, though a precocious pistol-shot, acted so strange- 
 ly that his friends even were doubtful of his courage. 
 Their doubts were intensified when, as a final prepara- 
 tion for the encounter, he took from his pocket a brandy- 
 flask, set it at the foot of a tree, and said: "When the 
 shooting's over, whether I'm hit or no, go for that flask 
 and bring it to me." The shots were duly fired. He 
 was himself grazed in the shoulder, and his own ball was 
 in the middle of the silver brandy-flask. "I despise a 
 coward," he said; "that's why I'm fool enough to be 
 here. My flask will show you that I despise duelling 
 more." The real facts of the case were not known for 
 a year. Meanwhile the boy had to give up his pro- 
 fession, and was taken as a private friend by a dis- 
 tinguished diplomat to Constantinople. At the Em- 
 bassy there he was kept in touch with political life, and 
 acquired a remarkable knowledge of the languages and 
 literature of the East. He subsequently travelled in 
 India and the less-known parts of Persia, and at length 
 in the latter country, with distinction, and under his 
 old chief, he filled for many years the post of secretary 
 at Teheran. Social successes were his reward rather than 
 political advancement. Good-looking, and possessing 
 a temperament of the kind that attracts women, women 
 distinguished and beautiful had made many attempts 
 to cure him of the ill opinion of their sex resulting from 
 his first experience of it. One of them had succeeded 
 so far that he and she together enjoyed the rapture 
 
 36
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 of the illusion that the world was well lost for love an 
 illusion shipwrecked by its consequences, and unfortu- 
 nate both for him and her. Other incidents, similar 
 to but less serious than this, had failed to provide him 
 with more than those passing distractions which leave 
 little behind them but disappointment, and end in ex- 
 hausting the fountains of the expectation which is the 
 life-blood of romance. Finally, in his attitude toward 
 women, he had arrived at a half-humorous cynicism, 
 humanized by a respect for them as creatures who were 
 capable of receiving injuries, although in his own case 
 they could no longer inflict them, and whom he felt him- 
 self, for his own part, incapable of ever again injuring. 
 
 But now all of a sudden this assured calm had been 
 broken, and that by an incident of seemingly the most 
 trivial kind. Had he not allowed himself such was 
 the tenor of his thoughts to indulge in a sentimentality 
 with regard to a mere child which the subtlest fascina- 
 tions of womanhood had for years failed to awaken in 
 him? And had he not allowed himself to encourage an 
 outburst of sentiment on this child's part, to which 
 serious response of his own was of course out of the ques- 
 tion ? He possibly might, so he told himself, be making 
 a mountain out of a mole-hill; but his conscience, un- 
 suspected by himself, had a secret ally in his vanity 
 which flattered him, as under similar circumstances it 
 would have flattered many sensible men, with a renewed 
 sense of his aptitude in pleasing the other sex, and thus 
 stood in the way of his regarding himself too lightly as 
 guiltless on the ground that he lacked the qualities re- 
 quired to make him guilty. The moral result of all these 
 searchings of heart was a self-reproachful pity for one 
 so young, who had with so pathetic a readiness put it 
 in his power to injure her, and a resolve that, when he 
 met her again, he would so readjust his conduct as to 
 place himself clearly before her in the guise of a mere 
 interested friend. 
 
 This resolution left him sufficiently satisfied to enable 
 
 37
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 him, aided by the prospect of two impending business 
 interviews, to dismiss the subject altogether from his 
 mind. These interviews were for him, indeed, of ur- 
 gent practical importance. One was to be with the 
 representative of a wealthy order of monks recently ex- 
 pelled from France, who desired to purchase a site from 
 him for the erection of an enormous monastery. The 
 other was to be with the secretary of the Conservative 
 Association of Southquay, who was to give him a gen- 
 eral account of the position of affairs in the constitu- 
 ency. 
 
 The former of these gentlemen, true to the appointed 
 minute, arrived before Sir Rawlin had quite finished 
 his toast a solicitor with a grave aspect worthy of his 
 clerical clients. 
 
 "What is wanted," he explained, "is twenty acres at 
 the top of Watbury Hill the locality which has already 
 been indicated to you; and I am authorized to offer you 
 a thousand pounds an acre. This, as my clients are 
 aware, is something over the market value; but if your 
 acceptance is prompt they are not disposed to haggle." 
 
 The offer, indeed, was one which considerably ex- 
 ceeded his expectations; and when his visitor, after an 
 hour's discussion of details, left him alone with the mat- 
 ter practically settled, Sir Rawlin felt that he had solved 
 the serious financial difficulties which would otherwise 
 have made the wisdom of his contesting the constitu- 
 ency doubtful. He was therefore able to welcome his 
 next visitor, the secretary of the Conservative Associa- 
 tion, in a spirit of confidence which agreeably surprised 
 himself. 
 
 The general upshot of the secretary's information was 
 this: that the electors of the Southquay division, with 
 the exception of some eight hundred, were permanently 
 separable into two equal bodies, each of which, con- 
 sisting of some five thousand persons, supported on prin- 
 ciple the Conservative and the Liberal candidate re- 
 spectively, the result being dependent on the action of 
 
 38
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 the eight hundred remaining, who had, so the secretary 
 observed, no principles at all, and would consequently 
 be the only body with which a candidate need much 
 concern himself. These arbiters of destiny, he proceed- 
 ed, would be swayed by a variety of considerations, such, 
 for example, as the amount which might be got out of 
 the candidate, personally, as a patron of local institu- 
 tions and a customer of local tradesmen. 
 
 " You see, Sir Rawlin." he said, " a gentleman in your 
 position can do a great deal in a place like this impos- 
 sible for a carpet-bagger. You'll forgive me for throw- 
 ing out a few hints; and I'll leave these lists and notes 
 with you, that you may go over them at your leisure." 
 
 "By- the- way," said Sir Rawlin, when the agent rose 
 to go, " there's one little thing more. You spoke just 
 now of the dissenters. From what I happened to hear 
 yesterday, it appears that the purely Church party are 
 also a power in the constituency. Mr. Barton, who 
 told me this, promised me some detailed information. 
 Do you know this Mr. Barton, or what kind of man he 
 is?" 
 
 The secretary, who was bowing himself out and had 
 reached the doorway, paused. 
 
 "I don't know Mr. Barton," he said "not, so to 
 speak, personally. But he's a masterful man, what- 
 ever he is. He fills All Saints' with his preaching, and, 
 besides that, he's a man of means. He gave two thou- 
 sand pounds toward doing the church up. He gives to 
 the poor, too, though they say he fairly frightens some 
 of them, he looks for all the world so exactly like a for- 
 eign priest. He has a quarrel on, by-the-way, with the 
 president of the Scientific Institute, who has dug up 
 some old bones in a cave which is close to All Saints', 
 and asked leave to exhibit them temporarily in one of 
 the parish rooms. The old vicar would have given his 
 consent if it hadn't been for Mr. Barton, who said that 
 the exhibition of the bones was going to be made an 
 excuse for getting a German atheist over from Berlin 
 
 39
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 to lecture on them. A surprising number of people 
 not all women, by any means have been sticking up for 
 him. He must by this time know his own lot pretty 
 thoroughly. Yes, Sir Rawlin, if he'll only tell you 
 what he knows, I should say you couldn't do better 
 than pick the Reverend Mr. Barton's brains." 
 
 Sir Rawlin, when the secretary was gone, glanced at 
 the lists which had been left with him; but, despite all 
 his late self-criticism, between these documents and his 
 eyes a flower-like image of youth obtruded its distract- 
 ing spell. He moved across the room to a sideboard, 
 and took from it three volumes which he had asked for 
 the previous evening volumes belonging to the hotel. 
 They were a Peerage, a Landed Gentry, and a British 
 Biographical Annual. Beginning with the two former, 
 he set himself to find three names. These names were 
 Lipscombe, Vivian, and Arundel. The Arundels of 
 Cliff's End he had no difficulty in identifying as belong- 
 ing to an old family well-known in the county, and he 
 was amused to find that, among their many relations, 
 most of them respectably provincial, they counted that 
 dazzling luminary of the fashionable world Lady Con- 
 way. Their father had been a dean; their mother had 
 been a Miss Lipscombe, whose brother had married Su- 
 sannah, daughter of the Earl of Peebles, who was some- 
 how or other connected with the dazzling Lady Conway 
 also. Thus far all was simple; but when he came to 
 the Vivians, though a male Vivian was recorded as the 
 husband of a female Arundel, no Vivian young lady was 
 discoverable among the mass of bewildering entries who 
 either bore the somewhat unfamiliar name of Nest or 
 could even by courtesy be numbered among Lady Su- 
 sannah's kindred. There was, however, a Captain Rhys 
 Wynn Vivian, born between fifty and sixty years ago, 
 of whom it was merely stated that he had served in the 
 Second Life Guards, that at an unnamed date he had 
 married an unnamed lady, and that by her he had had 
 issue who were treated with a similar reticence. This 
 
 40
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 man, thought Sir Rawlin vaguely associating his name 
 with some ancient scandal might, perhaps, be Miss 
 Vivian's father, perhaps he might not; but as there was 
 no deciding the question he closed the Landed Gentry, 
 and taking up the Biographical Annual proceeded to 
 turn its pages with the desultory manner of one who is 
 looking for something which he knows he will not dis- 
 cover. Presently he lit upon an entry which caused him 
 to give a slight start and to hold the book in a position 
 which would enable him to see more clearly. What he 
 read was as follows: 
 
 "Barton, Theophilus, the Reverend. Second son of Oliver 
 Boyne Barton, Esquire, of Belfast, and Augusta, daughter of 
 the Revd. J. Fitzgerald, Canon of Canterbury. Educated at 
 Rugby and Cambridge. For many years previous to taking 
 orders, Mr. Barton was lecturer on religious art and architecture 
 at the Universities of Belfast, Liverpool, and Manchester. Has 
 travelled much in Spain, Italy, and the East. Author of Our 
 Lady in Byzantine Art, The Liturgy of the Church of Edessa, The 
 Farce of Scientific Scepticism, A History of the Pointed Arch, 
 The Redeemer in Ancient Prophecy, The Immanence of Catholic 
 Unity, The Uncompanioned Pilgrimage; or, Notes on Christian 
 Mysticism." 
 
 In addition to these items of information, Sir Rawlin 
 learned further that Mr. Barton had taken priest's or- 
 ders about eight years ago, that he had been chaplain 
 to the Father Superior of one Anglican confraternity, 
 that he was still secretary to another the Brotherhood 
 of the Hidden Union and that, after some years' ex- 
 perience of parish work elsewhere, he had undertaken 
 his present duties at Southquay. 
 
 Sir Rawlin was still meditating over this account of 
 a man, the first sight of whom had roused in him a 
 curiosity not quite amicable, when he was interrupted 
 by the entrance of a waiter, and the announcement of 
 a third visitor, whom Sir Rawlin's gesture of surprise 
 showed to be quite unexpected, and whose superior im- 
 portance to his predecessors was made sufficiently evi- 
 
 41
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 dent by the pompous manner in which the door was 
 thrown and held open to admit him. The new-comer 
 was a personage of striking aspect. In his sedate move- 
 ments and in the expression of his powerful face there 
 was something of that aloofness which old age, and old 
 age only, brings to those who have played commanding 
 parts in life. No one, indeed, could have supposed him 
 to be less than seventy-five; but his carefully trimmed 
 and curling hair was abundant and unstreaked with 
 gray, and, despite their wrinkled lids, his eyes were so 
 alive and luminous that, besides being unconjecturably 
 old, he seemed also to be unconjecturably young. His 
 form was very fittingly muffled in a magnificent sable 
 overcoat; and a finely shaped hand, ornamented with 
 a large turquoise, held a gold-headed cane, on which 
 now and then he leaned. 
 
 "Good Heavens!" exclaimed Sir Rawlin, going for- 
 ward to meet him. "What talisman has brought you 
 here, or what enchanted horse? I imagined you on 
 your travels still brooding, perhaps, over the lost 
 glories of Sidon or camping on the plains of Troy, and 
 trying in the dead of night, like Apollonius of Tyana, to 
 raise the ghost of Achilles." 
 
 "Free me from this burden," said the traveller, un- 
 buttoning his heavy furs. "No, my dear Rawlin, I've 
 tried to raise one ghost only : that is the ghost of health ; 
 and with the help of my friend and most fascinating 
 companion, Dr. Thistlewood, I have not only raised it, 
 but compelled it to remain with me in the flesh. Did 
 you ever meet him ? He's the only man I know of who 
 has deliberately taken to medicine as the true route to 
 philosophy. I always tell him that when he uses his 
 stethoscope he is listening for the heart-beats, not of his 
 patients, but of the universe. If I had to choose my 
 own career over again I'd be a doctor a doctor like 
 Thistlewood, who can pick his patients, travel to find 
 them, collect them, house them, compare them, and 
 never need think of fees, except those that are forced 
 
 42
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 on him. If you've not met him, you must meet him. 
 You'll find that you never knew what a doctor was like 
 before. But I didn't come this morning to talk about 
 Dr. Thistlewood. I came because I just heard at the 
 hotel where I've been staying for a night or two that 
 you had just arrived yourself, and that there is a ques- 
 tion of your standing for this constituency. Well, I was 
 one of your trustees, so I'm privileged to speak plainly. 
 Elections, my dear Rawlin, even in these days, cost 
 something I only wish they cost more and what I 
 want to tell you is that, if you felt it unwise to burden 
 the estate with the expense of a contest, you would be 
 giving me one of the best of pleasures yet possible for 
 me by allowing me to consider such expenses as my 
 affair, not yours." 
 
 " I would," said Sir Rawlin, "have accepted your offer 
 with gratitude if I had not had a windfall this morning 
 of twenty thousand pounds. Read that memorandum 
 and congratulate me. If the Protestants attack me, I 
 can tell them that I have spoiled the Egyptians." 
 
 "I congratulate you," said the traveller, as he handed 
 back the paper, "though the bounty of the Church has 
 left me out in the cold. And now, what do you say? 
 I've a carriage at the door, which will take me presently 
 to the station, but there's half an hour to spare. Shall 
 we drive, and enjoy the morning a morning worthy 
 of Naples? Or, better still, shall we walk up through 
 the gardens, and send the carriage round to meet us on 
 the road above?" 
 
 Sir Rawlin assented to this latter proposal with alac- 
 rity, as the course of the walk suggested lay, he said, in 
 the very direction in which a business appointment 
 would, in any case, take him presently. 
 
 The road to which the traveller had alluded, known 
 as the New Drive, was one of the most beautiful and 
 most peculiar features of Southquay. High above the 
 hotel, at the back of which were wooded cliffs, it fol- 
 lowed the folds and protrusions of the steep hills for a 
 4 43
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 mile or so. Above it were fir woods. From its edge 
 down to the sea descended exotic evergreens inter- 
 spersed with natural brushwood, among which scram- 
 bled a number of labyrinthine pathways; and slowly 
 up one of these pathways the two companions climbed. 
 
 The traveller, who was for his years a surprisingly 
 vigorous walker, was now free, since the purpose of his 
 visit was accomplished, to return to the subject of Dr. 
 Thistlewood, and also to explain the reason of his own 
 presence in Southquay. Southquay, he said, with which 
 he had been long familiar, had been recommended to 
 him as possessing the best spring climate in England for 
 one who, like himself, had just returned from warmer 
 regions. He proposed accordingly to take a house there 
 for a month or two, and have Dr. Thistlewood as his 
 guest, if one which would suit both of them could be 
 got ready in time an arrangement, he added, which 
 would possibly have the result of Dr. Thistlewood's con- 
 tinuing the tenancy of the house himself, and using it 
 as one of the private homes or hospitals, of which he 
 had several, for the treatment of selected patients. 
 
 "I suppose," continued the traveller, "you know his 
 history and the source of his great fortune. His mother 
 was an American heiress. His nominal father was an 
 Englishman the last, I believe, of an old but decayed 
 family an officer in the Austrian army. His real father 
 was undoubtedly the Archduke Francis. Well, so far 
 as his own medical practice is concerned, one new feature 
 which he has been able to introduce is this : Many doc- 
 tors will treat poor patients for nothing. Dr. Thistle- 
 wood will always, if necessary, pay them liberally for 
 being treated." 
 
 "Dr. Thistlewood," said Sir Rawlin, "is evidently a 
 most benevolent man." 
 
 " He is," replied the traveller. " He is as benevolent 
 to sufferers as St. Francis. But among Dr. Thistle- 
 wood's motives kindness is merely an incident. 'My 
 patients," he says ' especially the most simple and igno- 
 
 44
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 rant of them give me much more knowledge than I can 
 ever give them in care or even in cure as a return for it. 
 Brother Ignorance,' he says he's a great reader of St. 
 Francis 'it is from you I learn half my science.'" 
 
 Sir Rawlin turned to his companion with an air of 
 somewhat quickened interest. 
 
 "I should," he said, "like to meet him." 
 
 "You shall," said the traveller, "if you stay on here, 
 as I hope you will. But here we are at our summit. 
 Italy, my dear fellow, Italy! Those two rocks there 
 might be the Isles of the Sirens." 
 
 The views from the New Drive, on the asphalt pave- 
 ment of which they were by this time standing, were 
 indeed of a kind unequalled in Northern Europe. The 
 restless waters, through layers of headlong foliage, show- 
 ed their blue surface growing milky as they murmured 
 on the beach below. Here and there on the blueness was 
 a white or a ruddy sail and the oval of a boat's deck. 
 Two island rocks shone each in its fringe of foam. 
 
 The traveller leaned on the railing by which the edge 
 of the footway was protected, and contemplated the 
 scene in silence. Gray cliffs in the distance, with furze- 
 dotted downs above them, landward slopes darkened 
 with clinging copses, the near greens of the macrocarpas, 
 Irish yews, and the tops of laurel, crowding the gardens 
 from whose depths he had just climbed, the cloudless 
 ultramarine of the sky, the bloom and glitter of the sea, 
 fanned by the faintest and mildest of all spring breezes, 
 the light-hearted sparkle of the foam where the brine 
 was whispering to the rocks to him and to his com- 
 panion likewise made it seem as though all the world 
 were singing. 
 
 "Why, with this at their doors," he said, "should 
 Englishmen go to Naples ? All Europe came to look at 
 this in days which you and I remember. Who comes 
 here now? Let us walk on. The answer is here be- 
 fore us." 
 
 By a slight gesture of the hand he indicated the in- 
 
 45
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 frequent pedestrians and occupants of shabby flies, to 
 whom the New Drive was apparently at that moment 
 abandoned. In some of the flies nondescript men 
 lounged, who were exchanging jokes with the drivers. 
 In others were shapeless bundles of female cloaks and 
 wrappings, surmounted by appropriate faces, whose as- 
 pect was either blank or peevish. The male pedestrians, 
 though sufficiently well dressed, seemed to wear their 
 leisure-like clothes that did not fit them. Some of them 
 spat, or nudged each other as they went along, or en- 
 livened their conversation by throwing a stone aimless- 
 ly. The females were models of decorum, most of them 
 embodiments of maidenly middle-age, who produced on 
 the passing observer no other impression than that of a 
 vague briskness or equally vague dejection. 
 
 " If the sirens," said the traveller, presently, "still in- 
 habit their islands, they are evidently not in the habit 
 of making trips to the shore. These people," he con- 
 tinued, "some of them, are no doubt invalids. Well, 
 we don't grudge them the healing of rest and nature 
 because they are not personally interesting either to you 
 or me. Indeed, even to us they are interesting in a cer- 
 tain sense. The sorrows of the unattractive are speci- 
 mens of all sorrow, a drop from the universal reservoir, 
 just as beauty and charm are, whether those of a woman 
 or a flower. Still, the most ferocious humanitarian will 
 hardly blame us for regretting that we have not here a 
 few examples of the flower-like women as well. Look," 
 he said, taking Sir Rawlin's arm. " Beyond this dip in 
 the ground, where the road disappears round the corner, 
 you can see two women like black shadows against the 
 sky. You can't mistake them. They are going to sit 
 down on a bench. Well, merely from the way in which 
 they move, you can see that those women are some- 
 thing quite different from the others. As for the others 
 watch them, group after group. They almost para- 
 lyze one's power of believing that an attractive woman 
 is possible." 
 
 46
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 The Drive had by this time turned away from the sea. 
 Below it was a deep valley, rural with fields and hedge- 
 rows, and the hill opposite ran out to a promontory on 
 which, among thickets of ilex, was a cluster of white 
 gables. Sir Rawlin had recognized them already; and 
 there was something in his companion's tone a subtle 
 suggestion of far-off romance and gallantry which 
 brought back to him under a new aspect his own ad- 
 ventures of yesterday. His self-reproaches with regard 
 to them began to renew their sting; but this was ac- 
 companied by a surprisingly bright reblossoming of the 
 thought that romance and he had not yet quite parted 
 company. 
 
 "I can," he said, "give you a better proof than your 
 own that the sirens in this part of the world do come 
 ashore occasionally. I found one in a sea-fog yester- 
 day, on the top of a high hill. She has her home for the 
 time in that house which is facing us. Her toilet must 
 have been designed by Fragonard. She might be a 
 shepherdess on a fan ; and she ought to have a jewelled 
 crook, and be leading a lamb by a rose-colored ribbon. 
 We might, if we had a pair of glasses here, be able to 
 see her little red cap among the bushes." 
 
 They had both stopped in their walk and were looking 
 toward Cliff's End. The traveller's face was by this 
 time all attention, and Sir Rawlin proceeded to describe 
 the events of the previous day, disguising by the levity 
 of his manner both the interest and the trouble which 
 they had not ceased to excite in him. 
 
 " I envy you," said his companion, when the story had 
 reached its close. "When I come back from London 
 you must introduce me. Lady Susannah yes I must 
 have seen her when she was a plain girl. My dear fel- 
 low," he went on, "there are two passions and politics 
 is not one of them through which we approach the 
 secret which alone makes life valuable: the passion for 
 woman and the deeper passion for knowledge. Only 
 this last remains mine. Both may still be yours." 
 
 47
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 "You are wrong," said Sir Rawlin, conscious of re- 
 draping himself in the toga of his true character. " When 
 men have loved and recovered from love a sufficient 
 number of times, they find that any fresh experience of 
 it, even if they should be tempted to wish for this, would 
 be only folly for themselves and only cruelty for others. 
 But, to turn to a subject a little more interesting 
 than myself, we are coming to your own two ladies, 
 whose distinction was so evident to you from a distance. 
 The near one, at all events for I can't see the other 
 is, I regret it for your sake, not very well turned 
 out." 
 
 This last observation, which was made in a discreetly 
 subdued voice, was hardly out of his mouth when the 
 subject of it made a gesture in his direction which was 
 not unlike a bow. In some surprise he glanced at her 
 for a second time. The gesture was repeated, and he 
 recognized Miss Nina Arundel. She rose to meet him, 
 and as she did so the figure of her companion revealed 
 itself. It was that of Miss Nest Vivian. Her hat was 
 trimmed with sable. On her breast was a bunch of 
 violets. Her face, rather pale, was like ivory that had 
 been rubbed with rose-leaves. 
 
 Sir Rawlin was acutely conscious that, were he some- 
 what younger, he would be blushing. He glanced tow- 
 ard her with a certain sense of shyness, almost afraid of 
 the feeling which she might possibly display on seeing 
 him. She, however, unlike her cousin, betrayed abso- 
 lutely no consciousness of his presence. She remained, 
 indeed, to all appearance, absorbed in the contempla- 
 tion of her muff till Miss Arundel, slightly stooping tow- 
 ard her, said: 
 
 "Nest, here's Sir Rawlin Stantor." Then she at once 
 looked up, and her smile and the inclination of her head 
 were so civil in their complete self-possession that a 
 stranger might have thought them encouraging. But 
 she did not extend her hand, and there was in her ex- 
 pression and movements no trace whatever of any recol- 
 
 48
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 lected intimacy it seemed, indeed, hardly any of any 
 recollected acquaintance. 
 
 Sir Rawlin's feelings for a moment were beyond his 
 own powers of analysis. That which was uppermost was 
 a feeling of his own folly in having wasted his valuable 
 scruples on an impudent little minx like this, who ac- 
 tually presumed to treat him as some smart young lady 
 in London might treat a casual partner in whose arms 
 she had waltzed at Cairo. His next feeling was that 
 he was shaking himself free from all thoughts of her, as 
 though they were unwelcome substances which had ac- 
 cidentally settled on his coat. Meanwhile he was con- 
 scious that Miss Arundel was addressing him with much 
 friendliness. 
 
 "My cousin," she was saying, "has tired herself by 
 coming too fast uphill. Sir Rawlin, my aunt is so 
 pleased to have met you. She has written you a letter 
 this morning, which Nest and I have been posting; and 
 she hopes very much that she will soon see you again." 
 
 Sir Rawlin was not a man who was easily put out of 
 countenance. He made Miss Arundel a cordial though 
 curt response; he raised his hat with a conventional 
 smile to Miss Vivian; and, declaring that his engage- 
 ments would not allow him to delay, he hastened to re- 
 join his companion, who had walked on slowly before 
 him. 
 
 "Your eyes," he said, with a dry laugh, "are much 
 better than mine. One of those two ladies of yours is 
 my beautiful shepherdess herself. Of course she's a 
 mere child." 
 
 The traveller, who had been watching the meeting, 
 cast a parting glance behind him. 
 
 "I was sure of it," he said, striking the ground with 
 his stick. " I commend your judgment and envy you 
 your good-fortune. For years I've seen nothing like 
 her. God bless me, you talk of her as a child! A girl 
 like that is never a child. At fifteen she has in her the 
 eternal charm of womanhood, and my dear fellow, 
 
 49
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 take care of the horses unless her digestion fails her, 
 she will never be an old woman. Well, here's the car- 
 riage. Are you coming with me ? Or shall I leave you 
 free to go back to the shepherdess ?" 
 
 "I'm coming on with you," said Sir Rawlin. "Will 
 you put me down near the church with the gray spire ? 
 I've no time this morning for any shepherdess of hearts. 
 My business lies with a shepherd of souls and votes."
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 1"^HE house, of which, as a lodger, Mr. Barton oc- 
 cupied the whole, was close to the church, and 
 coeval with the new school buildings. With its pointed 
 arches of raw red and white bricks, it wore the aspect 
 of a miniature modern vicarage. It opened on the 
 gravelled precinct which Sir Rawlin had crossed yes- 
 terday, and which now in the brilliant sunlight was 
 checkered with the shadows of the tall, leafless elms. The 
 actual vicarage, with its shrubberies, its ample, low- 
 lying roofs, and its comfortable stucco, discolored by the 
 weather of sixty years, facing Mr. Barton's door, formed 
 one side of the enclosure; and before its pillared porch, 
 at the moment of Sir Rawlin's approach, was a little 
 group, the central object of which was an old-fashioned 
 Bath-chair. In this was an old man with a delicate 
 and scholarly face, while a matronly lady, not much 
 younger than himself, was administering something to 
 him which appeared to be a glass of wine, and a footman 
 with silver buttons was adjusting the leather apron. 
 Sir Rawlin felt that here must be the same old vicar who 
 had been celebrated as a translator of St. Chrysostom 
 some thirty years ago. It was a peaceful scene, per- 
 vaded by that atmosphere of spiritual united with world- 
 ly dignity which the English Establishment has alone 
 known how to generate. The rooks cawed overhead 
 and the bells of the gray tower chimed the hour of noon. 
 Having passed through the stillness, which these 
 sounds alone broke, to the door of Mr. Barton's resi- 
 dence, Sir Rawlin pressed the button of a modern elec- 
 tric bell. In another moment an obliging maid was in-
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 forming him that Mr. Barton was out, but would very 
 shortly return, and had begged, with many apologies, 
 that Sir Rawlin would step in and wait for him. The 
 visitor was accordingly taken through a clean-smelling, 
 distempered passage, with a tiled floor and a dado of 
 varnished pitch-pine, and shown into a room whose 
 mellow and scholastic aspect was, in a house so new, at 
 once pleasant and surprising. Up to two-thirds of their 
 height the walls were lined with book-shelves, the re- 
 maining space being occupied with engravings of re- 
 ligious pictures and a number of very large photographs 
 representing ecclesiastical buildings. The floor was cov- 
 ered with a matting of dusky green, hard in texture 
 but very delicate in color, and the whole of the wide 
 window was blocked by an enormous writing-table. 
 
 Gradually other details forced themselves on Sir 
 Rawlin's notice. Hung by wires from the top moulding 
 of the book-shelves and hiding many of the books were 
 some antique colored plaques representing, in high relief, 
 heads of Italian saints in meditation or in acts of ecstasy. 
 On the writing-table was a tall crucifix, some docketed 
 bundles of what evidently were business letters, and a 
 something which seemed at first to be a broken ormolu 
 ink-stand, but which proved, on nearer inspection, to 
 be a small and curious censer. More interesting, how- 
 ever, than any other objects were the books, many of 
 them ragged in aspect, most of them bearing signs of 
 use. They were very various in character. There were 
 government blue-books, text-books of logic and history, 
 and travellers' guide-books, interspersed with Italian 
 poets. There were learned treatises on Pompeii and the 
 Roman Forum, on the schools of mediaeval painters, and 
 the development of Christian architecture. There was a 
 copy of Plato's Banquet, translated and bound in vellum, 
 an Imitation of Christ, The Interior Castle of St. Theresa, 
 The Spiritual Combat, The Dark Night of the Soul, and 
 between a Keats and Shelley was The Little Flowers of 
 St. Francis. There were four lives of St. Ignatius, the 
 
 52
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 works of St. Thomas Aquinas, and a treatise by an 
 English Jesuit called The Collapse of Darwinism. Be- 
 sides these, in noticeably handsome bindings, were some 
 large illustrated volumes dealing with Christian ritual 
 and symbolism; and on a small table were some others, 
 costly in appearance, and evidently quite new, one of 
 which, lying open, displayed an exquisite reproduction 
 of a picture of a virginal and blue-robed saint from 
 whose worn face time had fallen, and who was knowing 
 the abyss of ecstasy as she was kissed by the Divine 
 Bridegroom. 
 
 Such were the typical features of the priest's library 
 which caught Sir Rawlin's eye, and gave him a strange 
 impression, as though he were being surrounded by the 
 thoughts, the struggles, and the secret emotions of the 
 man. Above the chimney-piece was a drawing of a boy 
 dressed like a chorister, on the margin of which were 
 pencilled the words " In Memoriam," together with two 
 lines borrowed from a well-known hymn: 
 
 " Brother, thou art gone before me, 
 And thy saintly soul is flown." 
 
 Under this portrait was a photograph of a monument to 
 Mr. Barton's mother. On the margin of this also there 
 was a pencilled word. It was "Dilectissima." 
 
 Sir Rawlin was still engaged in contemplating these 
 objects when steps were heard outside, and Mr. Barton, 
 habited in a cassock, entered. 
 
 "Sir Rawlin," he exclaimed, "I trust you will forgive 
 me for my lateness when I tell you that I've just been 
 waiting to administer the last sacraments to an unfort- 
 unate, dying woman waiting, alas! in vain. She had, 
 with a view to allaying some poor momentary distress, 
 been literally so drugged by one of these godless doc- 
 tors that she died before my very eyes without recover- 
 ing consciousness. However, what's done is done. I 
 shall remember her at mass next Sunday. Pray, Sir 
 Rawlin, sit down, and let us proceed to business." Mr. 
 
 53
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 Barton's manner, despite his somewhat high-pitched 
 voice, had now become that of a shrewd man of affairs. 
 "We have," he said, producing a paper on which some 
 figures were scribbled "we have among the voters in 
 the Division seven hundred and forty communicants, 
 whose votes would be determined primarily by the 
 candidate's attitude toward the Church. Apart from 
 Church matters, we should most of us be on your side 
 the Conservative. But let us make no bones about it 
 with us the Church comes first and all other considera- 
 tions second. And now let me tell you what, politically, 
 our claims for the Church are." 
 
 Sir Rawlin declaring that this was just what he wished 
 to learn, Mr. Barton, slightly shrugging his shoulders, 
 proceeded to observe that the Church her distinguish- 
 ing note being the possession of apostolic orders was of 
 necessity one or other of two things. She was a prod- 
 uct of human delusion or the custodian of supernatural 
 truth. If she were the former, she should be suppressed. 
 If she were the latter, she should be supreme. In 
 especial for politically this was the most urgent ques- 
 tion the Church must, as the intellectual mother of the 
 nation, be placed at no disadvantage in endeavoring 
 to maintain and extend her rightful influence over 
 the young, protecting them, on the one hand, from the 
 aberrations of dissent and heresy, and, on the other, 
 from that shallow materialism, scarcely less deadly, 
 which now was aiming, under the specious name of 
 science, at loosening the primary bonds of all social 
 morality, and owed such success as it had to this un- 
 acknowledged cause. "If," said Mr. Barton, in con- 
 clusion, " the Secular Arm will be her servant, so much 
 the better for all. If not, let us do without it. Briefly, 
 Sir Rawlin, the thing we ask for is freedom freedom 
 of belief, ritual, discipline, and educational action; and 
 that's hardly a demand which, among Englishmen, ought 
 to be so very unpopular." 
 
 "Well," said Sir Rawlin, who had proved himself a 
 
 54
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 most excellent listener, "if freedom is what you want 
 for your religion, I think I may honestly say that you'll 
 find me quite at one with you. I need not go into de- 
 tails, but let me give you two examples of my meaning. 
 Wherever a desire prevails to worship the sacred ele- 
 ments, I would have the English clergy free to reserve 
 and expose them. Wherever a belief prevails in the 
 general necessity for confession, I would have them free 
 to fill their aisles with confessionals." 
 
 Mr. Barton, with a sigh of relief, subsided into an 
 easier attitude, and his face assumed a more intimate 
 and less official expression. 
 
 "Sir Rawlin," he said, "it's my impression that you're 
 a man after our own heart." 
 
 "Perhaps," Sir Rawlin replied, judiciously turning 
 the conversation to a question somewhat less direct, 
 "my own sacerdotalism goes further even than yours, 
 for, if we have priests at all, my own view is that they 
 should be celibate." 
 
 Mr. Barton reflected and made a slight grimace, in- 
 dicative of hesitation rather than of substantial dis- 
 agreement. 
 
 "I am not," he said, "in favor of any general pro- 
 hibition. I have seen among the married clergy many 
 beautiful lives. But I pray and have worked for the 
 growth of celibate orders, and I look on celibacy as a 
 part of my own personal vocation." 
 
 "I was only," said Sir Rawlin, "giving utterance to 
 a sort of pious opinion which has, after all, much to say 
 for itself. Celibacy was obligatory on all the priests of 
 Isis, and even the fiery Tertullian, as you may perhaps 
 recollect, declared that their chastity might be a lesson 
 to many Christians." 
 
 Mr. Barton's face lit up with a sudden brotherliness, 
 and the last trace of a frost, which had been slowly melt- 
 ing, disappeared. 
 
 "Ah!" he exclaimed, "so you read the Fathers, do 
 you ? How nice, now ! Yes, the Fathers there are plenty 
 
 55
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 of them on my shelves. If we wish for corporate reunion, 
 it is to them we must go back. Ah, Rome! Rome! 
 separated from us simply by the perverse pretensions of 
 her Vatican, and putting artificial restrictions round the 
 treasures of her spiritual life!" 
 
 "I noticed your Fathers," said Sir Rawlin, "while I 
 waited for you. I noticed also your architectural pict- 
 ures ; and I wanted to ask you what is that bit up there, 
 with the buttresses and the three windows ? The arches 
 are Norman, but the ornamentation is early English." 
 
 Mr. Barton rose with alacrity and turned to the pict- 
 ure indicated. "Dear, dear," he said, "this is nicer 
 still! You're a student of architecture also. Fancy 
 your noticing that! I hope you'll allow me to show 
 you our own church some day. Well, that bit is a part 
 of the cathedral at Kirkwall beautiful, huge, red cathe- 
 dral, looking out from its narrow isthmus over its two 
 seas. Changes in architectural style reached the Ork- 
 neys so slowly that, though Kirkwall Cathedral took four 
 hundred years to build, we find the round Norman arch 
 surviving there to the very last, though the details of 
 ornamentation had changed. Next to that picture, if 
 all this is not boring you, is another queer example of 
 very much the same thing. It's the church built by 
 the Goths at Narranco, in the north of Spain. Do you 
 make out what the Christian builders have been doing? 
 They've been actually copying some of the details of a 
 Roman temple. Do you see how they've placed the 
 altar? Delightfully quaint, isn't it? But, my dear Sir 
 Rawlin, aren't we rather straying from our muttons 
 our political muttons, I mean? Or may we suppose 
 that we understand each other? I think we may; but 
 I should just like to ask you one thing. Please sit down 
 again and be comfortable. There has been a rather tire- 
 some business going on here lately. We have in South- 
 quay what they call a scientific institute. This, in the 
 old days, was all very well in its way; but for the last 
 five years it began before I came here the trustees of 
 
 56
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 the institute and the trustees of the local museum have 
 been putting their heads together, and have started in 
 the museum building a succession of lectures which are 
 not scientific, although they profess to be so. I don't 
 know that the lecturers ever openly attack revelation, 
 but they deal with history, even sacred history, and with 
 natural history also indeed, with everything, just as 
 though revelation did not exist. Well, after all, this 
 might not have done much harm, for I believe that at 
 these lectures the attendance was refreshingly poor ; but 
 within these last two years, as you very likely know, 
 some old bones have been discovered in a cavern close 
 to the church here; and last Christmas there was a 
 specially precious discovery the vertebrae of a mam- 
 moth and some chipped pieces of flint. Possibly the 
 mammoth had been gnawing them. This has not yet 
 transpired. Anyhow, the long and short of it is that I 
 have encountered a storm of abuse, because, acting for 
 my vicar, I've refused the use of a little hall of ours to 
 a conference of scientific free-thinkers, who want to ex- 
 hibit these remains merely for they can have no other 
 possible object merely as an excuse for another of their 
 childish attacks upon the Bible. Now, you would wish, 
 I hope, that the Church should be mistress of her own 
 buildings, and free to refuse the use of them for any 
 purpose which she condemns." 
 
 "I think," said Sir Rawlin, "that to expect a body 
 like the Church to lend its buildings to people who want 
 to undermine its principles is like asking the House of 
 Commons to lend its cellars to Guy Fawkes." 
 
 "Capital!" exclaimed Mr. Barton. "Capital! I'm de- 
 lighted to hear you say so. In one way, of course," 
 he continued, with a shrug of his shoulders, "it's not a 
 bad thing to allow this so-called science to expose itself 
 to sensible people by proclaiming its own absurdities, 
 but it's not the business of the Church to provide it 
 with the means of doing so, and the remedy has its dan- 
 gers. You know those two boys at Cliff's End Lady 
 
 57
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 Susannah's nephews. I don't believe that at bottom 
 there's very much harm in either of them, but they are 
 both infected even the youngest one with this cant 
 of what they call science, and what is really the old 
 materialism in its crudest and absurdest form. The 
 younger one little jackanapes! actually said in my 
 hearing that faith was an affection of the nerves, and 
 that the human conscience was so much cellular tissue. 
 One doesn't so much blame them as those from whom 
 they pick this up. The chatter of those boys is really 
 not more absurd than what a certain class of professors 
 are gravely preaching to-day to artisans who are hardly 
 worse educated than themselves. Well, Sir Rawlin, as 
 for you, I felt sure of your answer. You'd have the 
 Church the mistress of her own buildings. I believe 
 that, if you consent to stand, the Church party will vote 
 solidly for you. And now, what say you to a cigarette ? 
 Let me offer you my one luxury ; and may I ask you to 
 give me your opinion on a matter of a different kind? 
 I have in this parcel some books which have been sent 
 me as samples of binding. Which of the bindings do 
 you prefer? The books are little manuals which I'm 
 going to give to my confirmation classes." 
 
 " I should think," said Sir Rawlin, "that the red would 
 keep cleaner than the white. I can't help seeing the 
 price. For one-and-fourpence they're astonishing. But 
 surely may I look at that other? the purple one with 
 gilt edges you can't get a thing like that for the same 
 money?" 
 
 Mr. Barton, exhibiting some slight trace of reluctance, 
 produced the book in question a masterpiece of sub- 
 dued daintiness. 
 
 "No," he said, "I'm afraid one can't. And even if 
 one could well, one doesn't wish to be snobbish, and 
 a respecter of persons; but, as you said just now, the 
 poorer children it's not their fault do make their 
 things piggy: so one can't treat everybody in exactly the 
 same way. This little book I think it's as pretty as 
 
 58
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 could be is, to tell you the truth, designed for the 
 young lady with whom I saw you walking yesterday. 
 She is among those whom I am about to prepare for 
 confirmation, and she will, of course, take care of it. 
 A beautiful nature that, unless I am much mistaken; 
 though I gather that her religious education has been 
 terribly neglected in some ways. By-the-way, let me 
 show you another thing which I got for her, and which 
 I think will help her. She has a curious natural sym- 
 pathy with where did I put this, now? ah, there, 
 lying open on the little table a curious sympathy with 
 the Catholic conception of religion. Here the book is. 
 It is called The Visions of the Saints. The letter-press 
 is very simple. What I want you to notice are the 
 pictures. These modern processes aren't they per- 
 fectly marvellous? Did you ever see anything more 
 like actual miniatures? That's St. Angela of Foligno, 
 with our Lord coming to her through the rose-bushes. 
 Isn't the little robin sweet? Look how one or two of 
 its little red feathers are rumpled. That's our Lord 
 giving the aromatic gum to St. Gertrude, in order that 
 her breath might be no less sweet to Him than her 
 prayers. That one again I should like you to examine 
 that through a magnifying-glass. Our Lord's dress, as 
 He kisses St. Sylvia's hair do you notice the gold and 
 the red lines in the border? You can see that the gold 
 line is a piece of stiff braid, applique. And between the 
 folds of the robe do you make out what that is? It's 
 the face of St. Francis, which we saw painted on our 
 Lord's breast. But I mustn't bore you any longer with 
 this. Perhaps you'd like to take a look round my crib." 
 The suggestion being accepted, he led the way into a 
 smaller room. 
 
 " Here," he said, " is my inner den my cell." 
 The floor was of bare, stained boards. The only 
 furniture was a couple of hard oak chairs, monastic in 
 pattern, but affecting no antiquity; a small table with a 
 stool before it, apparently used for kneeling; and a desk 
 5 59
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 supporting a rosary, some devotional books, and a man- 
 uscript, the window which lit it opening on a neat lit- 
 tle patch of garden. The only decoration on the white- 
 washed walls was a crucifix, the figure being of the 
 cheapest plaster. 
 
 " I always think," said Mr. Barton, seeing that Sir 
 Rawlin noticed it, "that there's something rather jolly 
 in a poor, common thing like that. I like to feel that I 
 use in my own devotions nothing not in reach of the 
 poorest. I allow myself an old Spanish one a really 
 fine work of art in my library. Across the passage is 
 my refectory. Would you like to have a peep at that ? 
 Not large, is it? I can just cram in three people at a 
 pinch. Generally there is only one. And now, if you 
 must go, good-bye. As soon as your own plans are 
 settled, we might arrange a little practical work together. 
 I've done some work, both as a canvasser and an or- 
 ganizer, in more than one election already." 
 
 As soon as Mr. Barton was alone he became a changed 
 man. The expression which had accompanied his use 
 of such artificially familiar words as " nice " and " sweet " 
 and "crib," or of "jolly," in its school-boy sense, alto- 
 gether disappeared. The priest came out in his face; 
 the receiver of calls faded. Returning to his library 
 with eyes absorbed and solemn, he sat down by the 
 writing-table, his chin resting heavily on his hand. 
 
 Mr. Barton possessed one of those aesthetic and emo- 
 tional temperaments which, closely connected as they 
 are with the higher developments of sanctity, are known 
 to be often the source of hopeless and unnamed corrup- 
 tion; but from such a result he was saved by certain 
 snows of the spirit, which made any kind of corruption 
 in his own case impossible ; and he had gone through life 
 with the gait of an untempted Galahad. 
 
 His eyes for a moment rested on the picture of the 
 clear-faced chorister one of his old school friends and 
 he thought of the November walks during which, on 
 their return to chapel, they had seen among the amethyst 
 
 60
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 of the sunset the battlements of the New Jerusalem. 
 Then his attention strayed to the photograph of the 
 monument of his mother his mother, the only woman 
 whose kiss he had ever known, and through whom alone 
 womanhood, as opposed to manhood, had ever made to 
 him any distinct appeal. 
 
 Then little by little his thoughts took a new direction. 
 They went back to the Sundays of last Advent the 
 period when, in connection with various charities, his 
 acquaintance with Lady Susannah and her family had 
 first ripened into intimacy. It was then that he ac- 
 quired the habit of walking with her and Miss Arundel, 
 after morning service on Sunday, to Cliff's End for lunch- 
 eon. Those charming Christian women the sense of rest 
 and refreshment they produced in him was jarred by 
 nothing but the presence of the two boys, who troubled 
 him at moments by exciting in him a stir of impatient 
 pity. The fields and the orchards, through which their 
 Sunday path lay, were idyllic for him with gracious 
 memories. At last a morning had come it was the 
 morning of Christmas Day when, awaiting him at the 
 side door, together with his two accustomed friends, was 
 a third figure which was new to him that of a graceful 
 girl, dressed with a delicacy which appealed to his sense 
 of color a girl in whom natural vivacity seemed to con- 
 tend with lassitude, and who looked at him, the moment 
 he met her, with instinctively sympathetic eyes. They 
 had all gone back together through the fields, to eat Lady 
 Susannah's turkey, carrying with them pleasant rec- 
 ollections of arches red with holly - berries. And this 
 girl, somewhat to his surprise, had contentedly walked 
 beside him, as though it were a privilege to listen to him, 
 even when he spoke most seriously. After luncheon, at 
 her aunt's request, she had sung, and he had given her, 
 with the precision of an expert, a few friendly hints re- 
 lating to the management of her voice. 
 
 His intimacy thenceforward with the family at Cliff's 
 End had ripened. He had soon begun to discuss the 
 
 61
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 girl with her aunt, and had been deeply touched by the 
 little which he was able to gather as to her circumstances. 
 "Her father," Lady Susannah had said "she isn't my 
 own niece really was in old days a great friend of mine ; 
 but for ever so many years he has been obliged to live 
 abroad, and I have not seen him since his marriage. This 
 child will have quite a fortune. Her rooms have been 
 fitted up with things of her own here, which, I hope, 
 means that I may be allowed to keep her indefinitely. 
 But if she doesn't get stronger or, at all events, if there's 
 a serious relapse she's to be sent back to her parents, 
 and I've promised to take in her sister or her half- 
 sister. That is really the relationship. There is some 
 difficulty, it seems, in having both at home together. I 
 can't tell why, still I have my suspicions. Mr. Barton," 
 she had added, with a somewhat trembling voice, "this 
 is in the strictest confidence it will help you to under- 
 stand things which are too painful to be dwelled upon 
 I can't help thinking that the other one may be not 
 legitimate. Poor child, that's not her fault, if it is so. 
 But, Mr. Barton, help me to keep Nest here. Encourage 
 her to sing. Anything that interests her is good for her, 
 so long as it's not exciting. And then, though I can see 
 that she's religious, I doubt if she's had much instruction. 
 She told me she hadn't been confirmed, and could there- 
 fore not take the sacrament." 
 
 Mr. Barton had felt, as he listened to this account, 
 that his own first impressions with regard to the girl 
 were justified. Her eyes had at once appealed to him ; 
 he now knew the reason why. They were eyes looking 
 for something which they had not yet found. The world 
 had given her of its best, but the world could not give 
 her peace. Here was a lamb bleating for the pastures 
 that alone could satisfy, and the Divine Will had led her 
 to him, that he might be to her as the good shepherd. 
 He had accordingly, at first with a distant kindliness, 
 won the confidence which she was not slow to give him 
 by advising her further about her singing. Finally, 
 
 6a
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 with much tact, he had approached the subject of con- 
 firmation, and the response he met with went to his 
 heart at once. He had opened, so it seemed to him, a 
 well of profound emotion. He had unsealed a sacred 
 fountain. And this emotion, accompanied as it was 
 with charms and graces essentially feminine, and to him 
 absolutely novel, had soon caused him to regard her 
 with an almost paternal solicitude, sharply distinguished 
 from and yet not wholly incomparable to those high and 
 equal friendships and that passion of filial worship which, 
 apart from religious fervor, had been the deepest of his 
 past experiences. 
 
 His formal preparation, both of her and his other 
 charges, for the confirmation was not to begin till after 
 his return from London, where his presence would be 
 shortly demanded by important ecclesiastical business; 
 but he had lent her, and had been delighted to find that 
 she read with interest and intelligence, some simple 
 books on the history and general teaching of the Church ; 
 and meanwhile he had no desire to hasten matters. In 
 the quiet family circle, in which alone he knew her, he 
 felt that she was, except for her health, safe. He found 
 comfort even in something which otherwise at times 
 perplexed him a maturity in her bearing, her manner, 
 her social judgments incongruous with her spiritual sim- 
 plicity, for herein he discerned a security for her against 
 the influence of her boy cousins. Indeed, he had often 
 told himself that she, with her worldly aplomb, instead 
 of being influenced by them, would laugh them out of 
 their absurd follies. 
 
 All this was passing through his mind now, and, as 
 he thought of her, filled him with a new accession of 
 tenderness. Taking up the little manual he designed 
 for her, he touched its violet binding lightly and rever- 
 ently with his lips. " Through her," he said to himself, 
 " it has, by God's grace, been given to me to see better 
 into the needs of all childhood." 
 
 This reflection was still filling his mind when his maid 
 
 63
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 appeared at the door and informed him that his lunch 
 was ready. 
 
 "Mrs. Curtis says, sir," she added, "that, according 
 to your orders, she hasn't sent up nothing but sardines; 
 but I was to mention that, if you wished it, she could do 
 you a nice chop." 
 
 "Thank you," said Mr. Barton, laughing. "A sar- 
 dine will be quite enough"; and before betaking him- 
 self to his banquet he remained for a few moments on 
 his knees.
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 AS for Sir Rawlin, he too, like Mr. Barton, when left 
 to himself again, became a different man. Having 
 paid a mental tribute to many of Mr. Barton's quali- 
 ties, and indeed to his general character, which, despite 
 certain trivial mannerisms, had surprised, interested, 
 and impressed him, he became a prey to reflections less 
 agreeable to the self-esteem of a man of the world, a 
 philosopher, and a prospective statesman. Miss Viv- 
 ian's behavior to him on the Drive forced itself on his 
 thoughts afresh, and caused him more annoyance than 
 he was at all willing to recognize. This mere child, this 
 companion of romping school-girls, this future member 
 of a confirmation class, had not merely presumed to re- 
 duce him to the condition of an affronted boy, but had 
 shown him that the situation which he had resolved so 
 solemnly to avoid was actually nothing more than a 
 ludicrous imagination of his own. No doubt by way of 
 compensation she had removed the ground of his self- 
 reproaches a fact for which he found himself hardly 
 so grateful as he might have been. But this was not 
 enough. Before he reached his hotel he had determined 
 that, if he met her again, he would with the utmost 
 good-humor put her in her proper place, and that her 
 acquaintance should in no case figure among the inter- 
 ests of his stay in Southquay. 
 
 When he entered the hotel, however, her image was 
 again obtruded on him. Lying on the luncheon-table 
 was the letter from Lady Susannah, which Miss Arundel 
 had mentioned as on the way to him. It consisted of 
 
 65
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 a cordial request that he would lunch with her that day 
 week. "So, you see," she added, "I am following your 
 advice already, and I hope our young lady will benefit 
 by it. I shall have George Carlton with me, and am 
 asking a few friends also." He accepted the invitation 
 with a pleasure which he was not overcareful to analyze, 
 and he was meanwhile so absorbed by practical busi- 
 ness that the very existence of Cliff's End and its in- 
 mates was as often as not forgotten by him. 
 
 Thus the week went by and the appointed day ar- 
 rived. The luncheon-hour was half-past one ; and Lady 
 Susannah, some twenty minutes earlier, decorated with 
 a locket which she reserved for great occasions, was alter- 
 nately knitting and fidgeting in a shabby little green 
 boudoir, when she heard a sharp pull being given to the 
 front-door bell. The butler, a moment later, ushered in 
 Mr. Barton. 
 
 "Dear Mr. Barton," said Lady Susannah, "how good 
 of you to have come early, as I asked you!" 
 
 "On the contrary," said Mr. Barton, in his accent of 
 mundane affability, "it's so dear of you to have bidden 
 me at all." 
 
 " Sit down, please," said Lady Susannah, as she snatch- 
 ed rather nervously at her knitting. "I want to say a 
 word or two to you about my niece, Nest." 
 
 Mr. Barton's drawing-room smile at once left his lips. 
 His face became grave and anxious. 
 
 "Well," he said, "tell me. I am listening." 
 
 "You know," his hostess proceeded, "how easily 
 things upset her a clap of thunder, or any mental ex- 
 citement. Still, on the whole you must have noticed 
 this yourself, seeing her as you do at intervals she has 
 for the last month or so been steadily getting better, 
 and for the first day or two after her fright in the hockey- 
 field that's just eight days ago she was brighter and 
 stronger than I'd ever seen her before. But since then 
 she has somehow or other gone back again. She's list- 
 less, and hardly eats; and what I specially wished to 
 
 66
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 tell you is this: I've just discovered by accident that 
 she's taken to stealing away and spending hours by her- 
 self in your church. Now I myself should be just as 
 sorry as you would to do anything which might inter- 
 fere with her healthy religious impulses; but you know 
 better than I do that such impulses may become exag- 
 gerated, and I'm sure, from a doctor's letter which her 
 father sent me when she came here, that anything of 
 that kind would in her case be most injurious." 
 
 "I should doubt." said Mr. Barton, dryly, "whether 
 doctors were specially qualified to advise candidates for 
 confirmation. And yet well, all things considered, it 
 is possible, quite possible, that in this special case they 
 may be right. You would wish me to speak to her, 
 would you? I will do so gladly. With a little gentle- 
 ness, I am sure I can put things straight." 
 
 "Dear Mr. Barton," said Lady Susannah, "I'm sure 
 you can. May I tell you what I feel myself? For, of 
 course, I see her every day. My own feeling is that be- 
 sides physical exercise, like the hockey, which was your 
 suggestion, we ought to provide her with some healthy 
 general interests some society beyond that of her 
 cousins." 
 
 "Certainly," said Mr. Barton, with alacrity; "there 
 I am quite at one with you." 
 
 "Well," resumed Lady Susannah, "that's one of the 
 reasons why I'm giving my little party. My cousin, 
 George Carlton, always makes things amusing. And 
 Sir Rawlin is coming, too. The other day his conversa- 
 tion really seemed to wake Nest up. I wish in South- 
 quay we'd a few more people like him." 
 
 Mr. Barton smiled, and, resuming his mundane man- 
 ner, noiselessly clapped his hands. 
 
 "Hear! hear!" he said. "Sir Rawlin is a charming 
 man. A man of his age, with his wide knowledge and 
 experience, is precisely the kind of person it would do 
 your niece good to meet certain to interest without any 
 risk of exciting her. If you'll leave me to speak to her " 
 
 67
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 But his speech was here cut short by the quick open- 
 ing of a door, and Miss Vivian herself was before them 
 pale and slim and silken in the daintiest of Parisian 
 blouses. 
 
 "My dearest and best of aunts," she said, "Nina is 
 dying to speak to you about the flowers. I beg your 
 pardon. Oh, Mr. Barton, it's you, is it? I very much 
 hope I'm not interrupting business." 
 
 "I'll come this moment," said Lady Susannah, rising. 
 "And you, my dear, meanwhile will you stay here with 
 Mr. Barton to entertain him?" 
 
 Mr. Barton's temperament gave him one great ad- 
 vantage, in respect both of wisdom and dignity, as a 
 spiritual director of women. Women, though their com- 
 pany was congenial to him, pleased him mainly on ac- 
 count of their grace and sensitiveness, and appealed to 
 him because he discerned in them a peculiar need for 
 guidance. He could, therefore, treat them with a sym- 
 pathy which never lapsed into sentiment, and, in the 
 special feeling which Miss Vivian by this time had ex- 
 cited in him, he was absolutely unconscious of anything 
 but the solicitude of a jealous parent. 
 
 " I've been much concerned," he began, " to hear from 
 Lady Susannah that you have, for the last few days, not 
 been seeming quite so vigorous as we could wish." 
 
 "Fancy my aunt speaking to you about my absurd 
 little ups and downs," replied the girl, with a languid 
 laugh. " We all have them. But don't go and tell me, 
 I entreat you, that I'm looking like an invalid to-day." 
 
 "My dear child," said Mr. Barton, gravely, yet with 
 a touch of subdued playfulness, " I'm not a medicine- 
 man, so I won't tell you anything of the kind; but I am 
 anxious to say a word or two to you personally, which I 
 have just been saying about you to your aunt. It has 
 come to my knowledge, though I have not seen it my- 
 self, that you have during the last few days been spend- 
 ing many hours in church. You won't accuse me of 
 wishing to discourage religious meditation, but what I 
 
 68
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 wish to say to you is this: you and I and all of us are 
 essentially immortal souls, and these bodies of ours are 
 merely their perishable instruments. Still, so long as 
 we remain on God's earth, it is only by using these in- 
 struments that we can play our appointed parts; and 
 if they show signs of weakness we must not rashly over- 
 strain them, even in our ardor to work for divine things. 
 We should be breaking the spades that God has given 
 us, instead of keeping them to till His vineyard." 
 
 "Yes, yes," said Miss Vivian, looking down at her 
 bracelet, "I can see the sense of that." 
 
 "Well," Mr. Barton continued, "as I was just now 
 saying to your aunt, what we want is to see you recover- 
 ing the equable tone and cheerfulness which anybody at 
 your age, with a good, clear conscience, ought to have; 
 and we think your aunt in this entirely agrees with 
 me that what would be good for you is not physical 
 recreation only, like the hockey, but the stimulus also 
 of a little pleasant society. I think we might venture 
 to say a little social distraction, such, for instance, as 
 the conversation, which would take you out of yourself, 
 of your aunt's friend, Sir Rawlin Stantor." 
 
 "I'm afraid," said Miss Vivian, "that a man so ex- 
 perienced as Sir Rawlin will not want to add to his ex- 
 periences that of wasting his time on me. Hark! the 
 door-bell. They're beginning to come already. I must 
 rush up to my room to finish myself. Mr. Barton, thank 
 you very much. I'm apt to get morbid, and then I go 
 all to pieces. You sha'n't see me do that at luncheon 
 to-day, anyhow." 
 
 Some ten minutes after this conversation had ended 
 Sir Rawlin, a trifle late, was entering Lady Susannah's 
 hall, and a sound from somewhere, like the cawing of a 
 small rookery, suggested the general character of the 
 company he was about to meet. Nearly every one, as 
 soon as he found himself in the drawing-room, seemed 
 to be talking with an odd and exaggerated industry, as 
 though bent on making the utmost of an opportunity 
 
 69
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 that rarely came. The hero of the moment appeared 
 to be a little elderly dandy with a very dark wig and a 
 feminine note in his voice, who was delighting a circle 
 near the fireplace with a sort of dictatorial facetiousness. 
 His hands glistened with rings, he called Lady Susan- 
 nah "Dear thing," and on realizing Sir Rawlin's presence 
 skipped forward to greet him with a gesture of elegant 
 recognition. 
 
 Sir Rawlin assured himself, by appealing to Oswald 
 Arundel, that this was Mr. George Carlton. " Mrs. 
 Morriston Campbell," the boy went on, confidentially, 
 " has just discovered that he has a little post about court, 
 and is now swallowing his witticisms as if they were so 
 much manna. Shall I tell you who some of the others 
 are? Those two ladies talking to Mr. Barton are the 
 authoresses. The fresh-colored parson with the high, 
 bald forehead, who looks pink with luncheon before he 
 has begun to eat, is Mr. Robinson. The girl in the cor- 
 ner, with crushed-strawberry cheeks, is Elvira, a love of 
 Mr. Hugo's, who goes to school at Miss Aldritch's, and 
 that monster near the window do look at him is 
 Colonel O' Brian, her father." 
 
 Sir Rawlin's own desire was rather to discover Miss 
 Vivian, but, failing to see her anywhere, he consented 
 to examine the Colonel. Colonel O'Brian, though the 
 widowed parent of seven upstanding daughters, one of 
 whom had married the son of an Irish peer, was one of 
 the most striking dancers at the public balls of South- 
 quay. With his flourishing mustache and startling Nor- 
 folk jacket, he had a buoyant air of conquest over every- 
 thing fair and feminine; and he was plainly engaged 
 now in a search for some fitting victim. Sir Rawlin's 
 attention, however, was presently called elsewhere by 
 Mr. Carlton, who beset him with good wishes for his suc- 
 cess in his parliamentary candidature, and who went on 
 to observe delicately, in a tone of shocked distress, that 
 he had "always thought Radicalism so dreadfully in- 
 sincere and selfish. Why," he said, "can't the people 
 
 70
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 keep in their proper places and leave us in ours ? That's 
 what I can't make out. So meddlesome, and so unneces- 
 sary." But just as he was diverging from this impor- 
 tant question to compliment Lady Susannah on the 
 stitch of a piece of knitting, Sir Rawlin's ear was caught 
 by a light laugh, and, turning round, he perceived that 
 Miss Vivian was at last present, and was seemingly hap- 
 py in the toils of the enterprising Colonel. The Colonel's 
 very back was eloquent of enviable success ; and he was 
 asking her, in tones indicative of a mutual understand- 
 ing, how it was that he had never met her at any of 
 that winter's dances, when the door was opened, the 
 announcement of luncheon came, and a movement with- 
 out formality took place to the dining-room. 
 
 The guests, whose positions at the table were marked 
 out for them by their names, had, while Mr. Robinson 
 said a cheerful grace by request, settled themselves and 
 unfolded their napkins, before Sir Rawlin discovered 
 that Miss Vivian was seated next him. In the drawing- 
 room he had merely exchanged with her a perfunctory 
 salute from a distance, and now she was again monopo- 
 lized by the Colonel, who was her other neighbor. To 
 this arrangement, moreover, she herself seemed a will- 
 ing party, for, having curtly thanked Sir Rawlin, who 
 moved to give her more room, she forthwith turned 
 away from him, and surrendered herself to the familiari- 
 ties of his rival. Such behavior exceeded what Sir 
 Rawlin had thought possible, and he naturally deter- 
 mined to pay her no further attention. 
 
 Mr. Barton, who was seated opposite, noticed Miss 
 Vivian's conduct, and noticed it with surprised anxiety. 
 His social taste was superior to the society in which he 
 had been brought up. Though he was no connoisseur 
 in flirtations, the demeanor of the Colonel shocked him; 
 and Miss Vivian's conduct in tolerating, still more in en- 
 couraging it, annoyed him as though she were inflicting 
 some meaningless disfigurement on herself. When he 
 had spoken to her about social interests he had not
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 thought of things like this. Placed at a distance from 
 her though he was, he resolved that as soon as possible 
 he would do her the salutary service of disengaging her 
 attention from its present unworthy object. The nat- 
 ural turn of the conversation at last gave him his op- 
 portunity by introducing a topic which was quite be- 
 yond the Colonel's grasp. 
 
 "We have," said Mr. Robinson, taking advantage 
 of a general silence, "been talking down here about 
 churches. Barton, we'll appeal to you. You're a pun- 
 dit in such matters. What should you say, in an archi- 
 tectural sense, was the most interesting church exist- 
 ing?" 
 
 Mr. Barton felt at once that Miss Vivian's eyes were 
 on him. "I think," he said, judicially, after a mo- 
 ment's reflection, "that, if we put aside the question of 
 size, I should give my vote to St. Ephraim's of the Forty 
 Pillars." 
 
 Mr. Robinson put his hand to his ear. "I didn't," 
 he said, "quite catch the name. In which diocese is 
 that?" 
 
 "It was built," said Mr. Barton, "by Guy, Count of 
 Cilicia. It lies forty-five miles northeast of Tarsus." 
 
 Mr. Robinson, with a slight grimace, let the sacred 
 subject drop ; and another was forthwith started which 
 seemed of more poignant interest. This was the cele- 
 brated Lord Cotswold, diplomatist, statesman, and 
 writer on scientific philosophy, not wholly disregarded 
 by those even who called him a charlatan, but at one 
 time much criticised as a notoriously irregular husband. 
 It was now being rumored that he had taken a house 
 at Southquay, though nobody quite knew which, and 
 was shortly going to occupy it with a large party of 
 friends. Mrs. Morriston Campbell, with an air of su- 
 perior knowledge, declared that Lord Cotswold was of 
 course quite out of society, and was somewhat taken 
 aback when the courtly Mr. George Carlton, in a voice 
 which arrested everybody, said to Lady Susannah: 
 
 72
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 "You remember, dear Susie, Lord Cotswold married 
 a cousin of ours a thoroughly fourth sort of cousin 
 and treated her quite too abominably went off with 
 the scullery-maid or the mangling-maid so shocking 
 all blue and soapsuds. It killed poor Maria of appen- 
 dicitis twenty -five years afterward. I always say it 
 was through Maria that appendicitis came into our 
 family." 
 
 While Lady Susannah, among a chorus of applausive 
 titters, was gurgling, "George, George, you really you 
 really mustn't. Isn't he too dreadful ?" Mr. Barton ob- 
 served that Miss Vivian was studying her empty plate 
 and quite ignoring the Colonel, who was saying to her, 
 with confidential knowingness: 
 
 "Hush! you and I mustn't talk about Lord Cots- 
 wold. He's a very fie-fie gentleman very hoity-toity, 
 too. I met his lordship at dinner once at the Viceregal 
 at Dublin." 
 
 This last observation was so obviously meant to be 
 public that Mr. Barton lost no time in replying to it. 
 
 "Who," he said, "may I ask you, was lord-lieuten- 
 ant then? I, too, am a native of the distressful country 
 myself." 
 
 The Colonel was delighted to answer; and Miss Viv- 
 ian, as Mr. Barton noticed, relapsed once more into a 
 seemingly apathetic silence. 
 
 Suddenly Sir Rawlin was conscious that a low voice, 
 which might have been addressed to the table-cloth, 
 was saying, close beside him: 
 
 "Why have you never been to see me I mean us 
 again?" 
 
 He started and turned toward her, but his eyes met 
 only a pale and half-averted cheek. 
 
 "See you!" he repeated. "Why, you surely can't 
 have forgotten it. I did see you. I saw you with ex- 
 treme plainness, on the very morning after the day on 
 which I first met you." 
 
 "You saw me!" she exclaimed, with a momentary 
 
 73
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 glance at him through her eyelashes. "You saw me? 
 When where ?" 
 
 "On the New Drive," he answered, "when I was 
 walking by with a friend. I was longing to stop and 
 talk with you, but you wouldn't even shake hands with 
 me. You looked me up and down, and simply refused 
 to speak." 
 
 A light seemed to be dawning on her. "Are you tell- 
 ing me the truth?" she asked, in a tone which was still 
 doubtful, but from which the reserve was melting. 
 "That must have been the day when I tired myself 
 running uphill and went half to sleep at the top Nina 
 says for a minute or two. It's all my tiresome nerves. 
 In the mist do you remember? you saw what a fool 
 they made of me. You weren't angry with me then. 
 I wonder if you feel that you are going to forgive me 
 now?" 
 
 She did not look at him as she spoke, but, at a very 
 slight angle, her head had been inclined toward him, as 
 though she were waiting for him to confess to her in 
 some faint accent audible to herself alone. 
 
 "There is nothing to forgive," he said, seemingly ab- 
 sorbed in his bread crumbs; "but even if there were, I 
 should forgive you." 
 
 No ordinary observer would have imagined that they 
 had exchanged a word. 
 
 Presently Sir Rawlin's arm was aware of a hand laid 
 on it, whose momentary contact was charged with ap- 
 peal and intimacy, and a voice which seemed whisper- 
 ing a confidence to him was saying: "I want some 
 water." They looked into each other's eyes, as though 
 they had planned a meeting. They were once more all 
 they had been on the day on which they had first met. 
 
 Mr. Barton, meanwhile, having perceived in a gen- 
 eral way that Sir Rawlin at last had supplanted the ob- 
 jectionable Colonel, had contentedly turned his atten- 
 tion in other directions, and might hardly have been 
 tempted to observe Miss Vivian again if Mr. Robinson, 
 
 74
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 in a voice expressing broadness of mind, had not re- 
 ferred to the newly found Southquay mammoth, for the 
 purpose of a lecture on whose remains Mr. Barton had 
 refused his hall. Hereupon Oswald Arundel, with an 
 excellent imitation of guilelessness, took occasion to ob- 
 serve that the cavern in which the bones had been 
 found must be directly under the foundations of Mr. 
 Barton's own abode. 
 
 "Did you ever yourself see," he added, "one of these 
 monstrous skeletons complete?" 
 
 Mr. Barton turned on him with the sharpness of a 
 sarcastic school-master who unfortunately was without 
 a berth. 
 
 " No," he said, " I never did. But I once saw a giraffe. 
 That was quite big enough for me." 
 
 The boy, with a covert smile, glanced in the direction 
 of Miss Vivian. Mr. Barton glanced anxiously in the 
 same direction also, to assure himself that she gave no 
 signs of sympathy with her profane cousin. He saw in 
 her no signs of consciousness that her cousin existed, 
 but he saw in her something else which consigned mam- 
 moths to oblivion. The almost ostentatious levity 
 which had distressed him in her conversation with 
 Colonel O'Brian was gone, but there was something in 
 her demeanor now which disturbed him far more deeply. 
 What it was he did not know, but he felt his back turn 
 cold, and somewhere or other over his skin ran little 
 trickles of perspiration. With ears preternaturally sharp- 
 ened, he could catch more or less what it was that Sir 
 Rawlin was saying to her. Sir Rawlin's manner was 
 precisely what he was sure it would be the manner of 
 an experienced man who was entertaining a clever child. 
 Their topics, moreover, so he gathered, were common- 
 place, even trifling. But why, this being so, did she lis- 
 ten with such strange attention? She rarely looked at 
 her companion, but her cheek was still slightly inclined 
 toward him, as though messages were reaching her ears 
 fraught with clandestine meanings, and withdrawing 
 
 75
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 her into some world beyond Mr. Barton's reach. Once, 
 indeed, she caught his eyes and smiled at him, but the 
 smile seemed to reach him across some intervening 
 water, as though she were a passenger leaning on the 
 bulwarks of a ship, which already, with her own con- 
 sent, was carrying her away forever from him. For the 
 rest of the meal he was almost completely silent; and 
 afterward, having managed to outstay all the rest of the 
 company, he said to her, in a manner so constrained that 
 she hardly recognized it as his own: 
 
 "Will you take a turn with me out-of-doors? I have 
 something more to say to you." 
 
 With a docile gravity the girl acquiesced at once. 
 She seemed willing at that moment to do anything that 
 would please anybody. 
 
 "Would you like," she said, "to wait for me at the 
 garden door? I'll run up and put my things on, and 
 be down in a few minutes."
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 MR. BARTON, pacing the path on which the garden 
 door opened, was too much absorbed in his thoughts 
 to be impatient because he was kept waiting. Less than 
 an hour ago he had felt that this spiritual child of his 
 was nearer to himself than to any other human being 
 that all her deepest aspirations had submitted them- 
 selves to his quiet guidance. She now seemed so far off 
 that he doubted whether his cry could reach her. What 
 had produced the change? What reasonable explana- 
 tion could he give of it ? It never occurred to him for a 
 moment to regard Sir Rawlin Stantor as having, in any 
 personal sense, come between him and her. The dis- 
 turbing factor was not Sir Rawlin himself, but some 
 mysterious order of interests which he suggested to the 
 girl's nature, and which exhibited that nature under new 
 and alien aspects. Mr. Barton was still struggling with 
 these reflections, which inflicted on him a pang of baf- 
 fling spiritual jealousy, when the sound of a door roused 
 him, and, turning round in his walk, he saw her on the 
 path awaiting him. 
 
 Her aspect added to his trouble. She was transfig- 
 ured from head to foot by a walking-dress and by gray- 
 blue furs. All trace of the lassitude which he had no- 
 ticed in her before luncheon had gone from her. In 
 every poise and movement of her body was a certain 
 elusive lightness which suggested a challenge to life, a 
 provocation to its delaying secrets. Her arched feet 
 seemed somehow to be coquetting with the very ground 
 she walked on. He perceived, however, as he drew near 
 
 77
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 her, that a soft, expectant seriousness rose into her eyes 
 to greet him. 
 
 "At last," he said, attempting to make his voice con- 
 ventional "at last I can talk again to you." 
 
 The girl stared at him, as though the pain in his face 
 was a riddle to her. 
 
 " Have I," she said, " been so very, very long ? I couldn't 
 get at my maid; but as soon as she came I raced. I'm 
 very, very sorry. Mr. Barton, are you angry with me ?" 
 
 "Angry!" said Mr. Barton. "If I'm angry with any- 
 body, it's with myself. I hope those smart boots of 
 yours are thick enough for a rough walk. Let us go 
 by the cliffs. We shall be alone there." 
 
 There was a brusque authority in his voice which 
 startled but did not displease her. She liked it incom- 
 parably better than his tone when he talked about a 
 "medicine-man." She went with him in obedient si- 
 lence, wondering what was about to happen. He did 
 not speak till they had left the garden behind them and 
 had gone some way on the unfrequented path beyond. 
 
 At length he began in a hoarse, ill-modulated under- 
 tone. "I have," he said, "been haunted for the last 
 two hours by a feeling that, when I talked to you be- 
 fore luncheon, I may have led you to mistake my 
 meaning. Will you bear with me if, in all friendship, 
 I try to explain myself a little better?" 
 
 " Please do," said the girl, gently. " I am always very 
 anxious to listen to you." 
 
 "Perhaps," he resumed, in a voice more nearly nor- 
 mal, "I could make what I mean clearer if you'd let 
 me tell you what I take to be your own peculiar gifts 
 and responsibilities great responsibilities gifts so pre- 
 cious and beautiful. Will you allow me to do that?" 
 
 Miss Vivian nodded permission. The request was of 
 a kind which women do not often refuse. 
 
 "Well, then," said Mr. Barton, "if you won't mind 
 my starting with one or two very trite observations, the 
 composite nature of each of us, to speak roughly, has 
 
 78
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 three parts. In the first place, we have those surface 
 qualities which come out in the give-and-take of our 
 common daily intercourse. Then under these come 
 those deeper gifts of the mind and heart which relate 
 to artistic beauty, to the world of human knowledge, 
 and to the ordinary human affections. And, lastly, at 
 the root of all, comes that part of us in virtue of which 
 we turn to God. All these parts of us are essential to 
 us in our present life; but the first and the second are 
 good only in proportion as they minister to the third. 
 In a general way all this, of course, is obvious. And 
 now, shall I go on to your own case in particular? As 
 to your surface qualities," he continued, " I need not say 
 that you've a charm and a temper which make the sur- 
 face virtues easy to you. What I want to bring home 
 to you is and you must allow me to speak quite plain- 
 ly that you are endowed to a degree still rarer with 
 those mental, artistic, and emotional qualities also, of 
 which I was just now speaking. To all that appeal 
 which beauty makes to us through our human senses 
 you are far more sensitive than most women, though 
 very likely you may not know this." 
 
 Mr. Barton glanced anxiously at his companion, to 
 see how his words affected her. Her face was averted, 
 but a flush was visible on her cheek, and, he thought, a 
 trace of moisture. 
 
 "You read Shelley," he went on. "You remember 
 how Shelley describes the love of one poor human soul 
 for another. 'The desire of the moth for the star' 
 that was what Shelley called it, and all our deepest and 
 highest feelings for beauty are desires of the same kind. 
 All the fair things of this fair world of the senses even 
 its ideal affections make their deepest appeal to us by 
 awakening some desire which they themselves cannot 
 satisfy, but which carries us upward and onward to a 
 far-off star beyond." 
 
 The girl turned to him with a quick, comprehending 
 smile. "I will quote Shelley, too," she said. 
 
 79
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 " ' Wouldst thou me ?' And I replied, 
 ' No, not thee." " 
 
 "You have," said Mr. Barton, "penetrated to the 
 very heart of my meaning. Well, that being so, I can 
 easily make you understand the kind of advice which I 
 wanted to give you before luncheon. Instead of dis- 
 tressing your nerves, as I think you may have been 
 tempted to do by brooding too much over what separated 
 you from the Divine Nature, I was advising you for the 
 moment to exercise those natural faculties which, if 
 exercised rightly, unite you to it : for God is the Supreme 
 Beauty and the Supreme Intellect, as well as the Supreme 
 Holiness. Enjoy friendships and interesting pursuits and 
 beauty; but enjoy them only because, and only in so far 
 as, each of them carries you onward to a something be- 
 yond itself to that power, that purity, that love, of 
 which it is the symbol or the faint reflection, and to 
 which, under God, it is my great desire to guide you." 
 
 "I understand you," said Miss Vivian. "I under- 
 stand every word. I'm only afraid you flatter me too 
 highly." 
 
 "If," said Mr. Barton, quickly, "you think I am in- 
 clined to flatter you, you must give me the benefit of 
 your misconception, and not think me captious or unfair 
 if I venture on a word of criticism. At luncheon to-day, 
 sitting opposite to you as I was, I could not help from 
 time to time observing you, and it seemed to me I'm 
 thinking, of course, only of the earlier part of the time 
 I don't refer to the latter." Mr. Barton here exhibit- 
 ed some signs of hesitation. "I mean," he proceeded, 
 "the time when you seemed, if you'll let me say so, to be 
 paying an attention to somebody which was dispropor- 
 tionate to the merits of his conversation. You were 
 hardly doing justice on that occasion either to yourself 
 or to my advice to you." 
 
 "I'm sorry," said Miss Vivian, gravely, but with an 
 air of considerable relief, "that you noticed a silly thing 
 
 80
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 like that; but I had to talk to the man, and I couldn't 
 help drawing him out a little. All the same, you are 
 quite right ; and you are kind in having found fault with 
 me." 
 
 "My dear child," said Mr. Barton, "your extraor- 
 dinary quickness in appreciating shades of meaning 
 makes it easy to talk to you. If what you did had been 
 done by many other girls, I should probably not have 
 noticed it; but you have exceptional gifts, and these 
 bring with them exceptional responsibilities especially 
 at this time when you are, of your own free-will, about 
 to prepare yourself for the reception of a great sacra- 
 ment. And that reminds me. Before I begin my reg- 
 ular talks about confirmation, which I hope to do as 
 soon as I return from London, may I ask you to read 
 the little manual which I sent you some days ago ? I am 
 glad that you liked the binding. I am glad also that the 
 Visions of the Saints pleased you." 
 
 "Oh," exclaimed the girl, "that is beautiful! I've 
 not thanked you half enough for it. I look at it every 
 morning. All the faces in it do you remember the 
 martyrs in paradise with their eyes fixed on the Lamb? 
 seem to be full of that very longing for the beyond 
 which you were speaking about just now. It's like 
 nothing else in the world." 
 
 Mr. Barton, instead of making any immediate reply, 
 began putting his hand into one of his great-coat pockets. 
 
 "I want you," he said, at length, "in addition to that 
 book, to let me add another, not so ornamental, but still, 
 I hope, it may be useful to you. It's a very little book 
 indeed, written or compiled by myself. I only got it 
 this morning, and I brought it with me, meaning to give 
 it to you. Will you take it ? You can carry it in your 
 muff." 
 
 "How good of you!" said Miss Vivian, simply. "Yes, 
 you see my muff will hold it." 
 
 "May the reading of that book," said Mr. Barton, 
 gravely, "be blessed to you. It is not a book for all. 
 
 8z
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 But I haven't quite done yet. I should like to offer you 
 one little gift more. We were talking just now about 
 the senses. Let us take the sense of hearing. You, 
 being musical, know that there are musics of many 
 kinds, some of which secularize the emotions, while 
 others sanctify them. With all the things of sense the 
 case is much the same. Take smells, for instance. To 
 me the smell of wall-flowers always brings back my child- 
 hood and the mother at whose knees I said the first 
 prayers I can remember. Another case in point is the 
 peculiar smell of incense. That smell, as a matter of 
 general experience, has, though we can't tell why, a 
 special religious suggestiveness." 
 
 "How true that is!" said Miss Vivian. "The smell 
 of incense touches one like an organ." 
 
 "I have," Mr. Barton went on, "found, when the 
 worries of business made it difficult for me to turn my 
 mind to prayer, or to the writing of a sermon, that the 
 burning of a few grains of incense was very effective in 
 surrounding me with the required atmosphere. I have, 
 therefore, besides the book, brought this packet of in- 
 cense for you, which you might use in the same way. 
 There, take it. It will go into your muff, too. It has 
 been formally blessed in the manner enjoined by our 
 ancient Church, so treat it reverently. Don't burn it 
 for fun. Try it, and if it doesn't help you, send me 
 back what remains of it. And now," said Mr. Barton, 
 suddenly stopping short and facing her, " I must take 
 you no farther. I have much to do, and I leave to-night 
 for London. Let us turn. I'll come with you as far as 
 the field-path which will take me home over the hill." 
 
 Both of them silent, they began to retrace their steps. 
 Miss Vivian, with a pensive smile, readjusted the pack- 
 ages in her muff. Mr. Barton's lifted eyes were fixed 
 intently on the sky. At last, without turning to her, 
 he spoke. 
 
 " When I am alone," he said, " in the bare room which 
 I shall occupy, I shall always think of you and pray for 
 
 82
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 you. When we go to meet God through death, we go 
 to meet Him alone. When we go to meet Him in life, 
 we must each of us go alone also ; but we are not alone, 
 even in the human sense, if another soul, whom we have 
 helped, is going on the same journey. And now, here 
 is my path. Here we must say good-bye. In a fort- 
 night's time, or less, I hope to be back again ; and mean- 
 while you'll remember, will you, what I've been trying 
 to say to-day? Whatever you may find beautiful, in- 
 teresting, pleasure-giving in the life around you in 
 things, in men, in women let your heart fix itself on 
 such of these things only as do not hinder it from giving 
 itself to that Heart of Hearts, in the love of which we 
 both may share, and in which nothing can come between 
 us. My child, good-bye, good-bye. You'll give me your 
 hand, won't you, in token that you recognize me as a 
 friend?" 
 
 For the girl, this last request, natural and inevitable 
 as it was, had in it something of a faintly unwelcome in- 
 congruity; but, ashamed of a lurking wish to avoid the 
 parting ceremony, she complied with a frank, almost 
 with a tender, grace; and the look which he cast back 
 at her, as he took the path up the hill-side, was grave 
 with a grateful happiness. 
 
 As for her, her face which, during the walk, had been 
 that of one in contact with some being of a different 
 order, relaxed its expression somewhat as soon as she 
 found herself alone; and presently, hearing her cousins' 
 voices in the garden, she lingered for some minutes on 
 the cliff till the sounds had died away, and then stole 
 back to the house, where she hid herself in her own 
 sitting-room. 
 
 Relatively to the means that had been available for 
 gratifying the girl's taste, it was not a room that ex- 
 hibited any very great extravagance; but it formed a 
 curious contrast to Lady Susannah's threadbare boudoir. 
 Delicate gilt brackets with china on them, and land- 
 scapes in which stone-pines, villas, palms, and olives 
 
 83
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 shone green and white and gray against blue Mediter- 
 ranean backgrounds, gave a gay aspect to the surfaces 
 of the pale silk-like wall-paper. The large bow-window 
 was enlivened with flowered chintz curtains ; and chintz- 
 covered chairs matching them were thrown into pleasant 
 relief by the pile of soft red carpet. Books delicately 
 bound stood in small cases on the tables. A chair shap- 
 ed like a prie-dieu secluded itself in one corner. In an- 
 other a half-finished water-color displayed itself con- 
 spicuously on an easel; and on a stool in the window 
 were some drawing-blocks and an artist's case of colors. 
 
 From her muff, which she tossed aside, she produced 
 Mr. Barton's packages. The incense it had been 
 placed in a tin box made for lozenges claimed her at- 
 tention first. Having deposited an ember of wood in a 
 brass saucer that was on the chimney-piece, she sprinkled 
 the red glow with a few grains of the compound. A 
 faint fragrance rose from it, which she sniffed like a 
 child experimenting with a new toy. Then, as if satis- 
 fied with the result, she seated herself near the window 
 and turned to Mr. Barton's book. It was a small, slim 
 volume bound in leather that smelled of cedar. The 
 title of it was The Secret Way. She opened it at random, 
 and the first passage on which her eyes lit startled her. 
 
 She had several times during her late walk with Mr. 
 Barton sought relief for her feelings by looking away 
 from him at the sea. The sea had been blue and shin- 
 ing. Her eyes had rested themselves on the sails whose 
 whiteness was going down where the two firmaments 
 touched each other; and her mind had been filled with 
 something of that saddening yet pleasurable exultation 
 which, in most sensitive natures, is produced by the 
 same spectacle. The words in Mr. Barton's book at 
 which the pages opened were these: 
 
 "This expanse of waves lying against the far-off sky, and 
 those ships with their dying sails, trouble us who watch them 
 with a vague feeling that they are beautiful. But in what does 
 this beauty consist ? It does not consist in mere water, or mere 
 
 84
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 light, or mere squares and triangles of canvas, or even in all 
 three combined. It consists in a suggestion to the soul, not in 
 impressions on the senses. Our souls, stirred by the imagina- 
 tion, long to follow those ships; for to us it seems that they are 
 going to some better country to some land of the heart's desire. 
 But in the lands where the journeys of these ships end the 
 heart is not satisfied. Sorrow will come down and meet them as 
 soon as they touch the quays. So it is with all the fair things 
 of nature. They awake in us a hunger which they themselves 
 cannot satisfy. What, then, can satisfy it ? As Augustine says, 
 ' He only, by whom all these things were made.'" 
 
 Miss Vivian turned the page, and the same train of 
 thought repeated itself: 
 
 "My heart spoke to my heart, and said to it, ' What desirest 
 thou?' At dawn in the garden I desire the scented rose of the 
 earth. In the evening I desire the shining rose of the sky. My 
 heart, thou dost not contemplate these things in vain, but thou 
 dost desire them in vain; for all these things are without thee, 
 and can never be thine. Rather desire that which is in them 
 and in thee also. This will not leave thee hungering. This will 
 enthrall and fill thee, till thou sayest, ' Spouse of my soul, I faint; 
 I can endure no more.'" 
 
 The book dropped from her hands. Outside a flush 
 was beginning to mantle in the west. Across a reach of 
 water a promontory with houses and a few lights on it 
 was turning into a blur of purple; and the evening was 
 opening up its faint, illimitable distances. She rose, 
 went again to the fireplace, reopened the bag of incense, 
 and repeated her former experiment on a bolder and 
 larger scale. A blue smoke shot up from the glowing 
 embers copiously. She lifted the brass saucer, and, wav- 
 ing it to and fro, soon felt herself to be inhaling the odor 
 of all sanctuaries. Yielding to its subtle spell, she turned 
 almost involuntarily to her prie-dieu. The fur of her 
 hat, as she knelt with her head bent forward, almost 
 touched her folded hands; and between her gloves and 
 her hat, together with the smell of the incense, stole 
 visions of lighted chancels and mute women emerging 
 
 85
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 from brown confessionals; and at last, mixed with the 
 incense mist, a mist of another kind came to her closed 
 eyelids from the gorse bushes on a high hill. "My heart 
 spoke to my heart," she murmured, "and it said to me, 
 'What desirest thou?" 1 
 
 Half an hour later she had descended to the school- 
 room tea. Her cousins for some days had not seen her 
 in such high spirits; and when Oswald proposed again 
 to minister at the cat's altar, she contented herself with 
 seizing a book and lightly boxing his ears.
 
 BOOK II
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 IF the sequel to the luncheon-party had been satis- 
 factory to Mr. Barton, the close of that function it- 
 self had been not less so to Sir Rawlin. The healing of 
 the wound which Miss Vivian had unintentionally in- 
 flicted on his vanity had healed at the same time the 
 disquiet of his conscience also; and in order to render 
 his peace of mind more absolute, he had been careful to 
 check any undue expectations on her part by letting 
 her know that, since he had decided on contesting the 
 constituency, some time would elapse before his many 
 engagements would allow him to look forward to the 
 pleasure of visiting Cliff's End again. Indeed, these 
 preoccupations proved quite engrossing enough to rele- 
 gate even the thought of her to the background of the 
 candidate's mind. It remained with him, nevertheless, 
 like a rose worn in his buttonhole, and led to certain 
 actions the object of which was the continuance of his 
 connection with her. 
 
 Sir Rawlin's appearance in Southquay as the hope of 
 a political party coincided with the occurrence of two 
 other events, both of which had been already arranged 
 without reference to himself. Both these events, in a 
 certain sense, were social. One of them was political 
 as well. 
 
 The sacred fire of conservatism was kept alive in the 
 constituency, not only by the association which con- 
 cerned itself with the actual conduct of elections, but 
 also by the local branch of a great national league, the 
 object of which was, by means of periodical fetes, to 
 associate Conservative principles with ideas of popular 
 
 89
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 happiness. Year by year, wherever it had a branch, 
 the league thus celebrated the birthday of the statesman 
 whose name it bore; and that anniversary being now 
 but a few days distant, the Bath Saloons of Southquay 
 had, long before Sir Rawlin's arrival, been secured for 
 the occasion by the league's local council. Some well- 
 known members of Parliament had promised to make 
 short speeches. Better still, a certain dazzling mar- 
 chioness, whose praise was in the papers as the hostess 
 of kings and princes, and whose photographs were as 
 frequent in the shops as those of the most renowned 
 actress, having taken a house at Southquay for a little 
 consumptive daughter, had let it be known that she in- 
 tended to be present also. Sir Rawlin, accordingly, was 
 soon the recipient of a letter which urged on him that 
 the fete would afford him an unrivalled opportunity of 
 making a public appearance before a gathering of his 
 future supporters. The Bath Saloons, moreover, on the 
 night before the fete, were to be the scene of another 
 gathering of a somewhat different kind namely, a ball, 
 which was to be as conservatively select as the fete was 
 to be conservatively inclusive; and this function like- 
 wise he was specially requested to attend. 
 
 Both invitations he accepted; and now, after a week 
 of drudgery, a morning at last arrived when he sat down 
 to his breakfast with a day before him wholly at his own 
 disposal, and when the post had contented itself with 
 bringing him one letter and a packet only. Having read 
 the first and satisfied himself as to the contents of the 
 second, he at once proceeded to scribble a hasty note. 
 This he instructed his servant to deliver without delay, 
 and, if possible, to bring back an answer. Meanwhile, 
 seated by a window, with a sense of holiday in his heart, 
 he looked down across the greenness of the crescent gar- 
 dens at the sea, and felt the exhilaration of the spring 
 stealing to him from a bowl of violets. He was still en- 
 joying his reveries when the return of his servant with 
 a small note interrupted them. The note consisted of 
 
 90
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 only a single sentence, to the effect that the writer would 
 expect him as soon as he liked to come. He armed him- 
 self with the letter and packet which the morning's post 
 had brought him, called for his hat and stick, and issued 
 into the open air. 
 
 All the world seemed young as the breath of the sea 
 came up to him. He descended to the shore, along 
 which, as the tide was low, a stretch of sand among 
 bowlders afforded a tempting path. Less than a mile 
 away stood Cliff's End on its promontory. With desul- 
 tory steps he moved forward in that direction, pausing 
 now and then to examine some pool among the rocks, 
 in whose salt crystal sea-anemones wavered ; and at last 
 he found himself at the foot of the gray limestone heights 
 over which there peered a shrub or two of Lady Susan- 
 nah's garden. 
 
 The letter and the packet which he had brought with 
 him both related to members of Lady Susannah's family. 
 Neither of them concerned Miss Vivian. They concerned 
 the two boys, her cousins, and represented on his part 
 a general feeling of amity which, since the day of the 
 luncheon-party, had been drawing him toward the whole 
 household and enveloping his thoughts of the girl in the 
 atmosphere of its safe inclusiveneSs. As for his present 
 appointment, it was with Lady Susannah herself; and 
 the hour being still a little premature for a visit, he con- 
 ceived the idea of scrambling round the base of the 
 promontory, and killing his superfluous time by explor- 
 ing the coast beyond. In order, however, to accomplish 
 the latter part of his programme, he found that it would 
 be necessary to surmount a small intervening headland, 
 toward which, on the farther side, the gardens of Cliff's 
 End descended. On gaining the summit, through a 
 crevice half masked by bushes, he was greeted by the 
 sight of a cluster of Scotch firs, which had assumed a 
 shape suggestive of the umbrella-pines of Italy, and 
 seemed now to be pricking with their needles a Mediter- 
 ranean sky. At the foot of one of the trunks, purplish 
 i 91
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 and scaling into pink, Sir Rawlin was startled by per- 
 ceiving a medley of other colors a mass of creamy white, 
 some star-like spots of gold, and a patch of redness like 
 a poppy's. The whiteness was a garment enveloping a 
 seated female figure, the spots of gold were buttons, the 
 redness was a tilted cap. The figure was that of an 
 artist, her head bent over a sketching-block and her 
 eyes fixed on her handiwork under cover of her long eye- 
 lashes. 
 
 A rustle in the bushes caused her to look up, and there 
 came to her from Sir Rawlin's lips the simple greeting: 
 " So there you are! Please," he went on, " don't get up 
 and disturb yourself. Let me sit down by you and 
 watch. Don't let the color dry. Go on with the sky- 
 line." 
 
 Her beauty once more astonished him. He ceased 
 to wonder at any of his past indiscretions. At the same 
 time he resolved not to repeat them. Miss Vivian look- 
 ed at him for a moment with eyes in which the light of 
 pleasure was disturbing the languor of a dream. Then 
 she resumed her work, but he noticed that her hand 
 trembled and the gilt buttons on her breast slowly rose 
 and fell. At last she said: 
 
 "I can't go on; I am spoiling it. The sea should be 
 far away as far away as heaven; but look, one would 
 think it was coming at one through the chinks of these 
 odious bushes." 
 
 " Will you trust your brush to me ?" he said. " I can 
 make that right in a minute or two. Your drawing and 
 your coloring are perfect." 
 
 She turned her head away, and for answer pushed the 
 sketch toward him. With the touch of an expert he 
 proceeded to give strength to the foreground. The gorse, 
 the cliffs, and the brambles stood out and asserted them- 
 selves, and the sea with its turquoise bloom went float- 
 ing into a breezy distance. Presently she turned again 
 to him, and, her cheek almost touching his shoulder, 
 she peered over his arm as he worked. 
 
 92
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 "It was dead," she whispered, "and you you have 
 made it live." 
 
 "Listen," he replied, in the accents of friendly com- 
 mon-sense. " Will you let me consult you about a really 
 serious matter ? I am going to consult your aunt about 
 it, and I am waiting till I can decently call upon her. 
 Oswald told me, or else you did, that, before he embarks 
 on his profession, he is going for a time to Oxford going 
 there next autumn. Well, it occurred to me that it 
 might be a pleasant and useful thing for him to have a 
 little experience of diplomatic life beforehand; so I 
 wrote to Sir Frank Paston, our ambassador at Constan- 
 tinople, to ask him if he would care to have a charming 
 boy as a guest, or an extra secretary, or whatever we 
 like to call it, for two or three months before his Oxford 
 discipline begins. Sir Frank is in London, and I got his 
 reply this morning. He is delighted with the idea ; but 
 I did not want to say anything to Oswald himself till I'd 
 found out from your aunt whether he would be allowed 
 to go." 
 
 The girl, who had been listening attentively, now 
 sprang to her feet. 
 
 "Come!" she exclaimed. "I will take you to Aunt 
 Susannah at once. Tell me this: are you always help- 
 ing somebody?" 
 
 Sir Rawlin laughed. "That," he said, "remains to 
 be seen. I've something up my sleeve for you, too, if 
 I find that your aunt approves. Meanwhile, will you 
 give that packet to Mr. Hugo ? You shall tell me after- 
 ward what his face was like when he opened it." 
 
 Lady Susannah welcomed Sir Rawlin with a certain 
 air of surprise which made her pleasure in seeing him 
 only the more evident. He at once explained his mis- 
 sion, as far as it related to Oswald, winding up with an 
 account of his meeting with Miss Vivian under the fir- 
 trees. 
 
 "Sir Rawlin," she said, "you're a regular fairy god- 
 mother. Tell Oswald yourself about it. Nothing in the 
 
 93
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 world could be better for him. I hope that thanks don't 
 bore you, for mine are not over yet. A little while after 
 you first met my niece she had a sort of relapse. We 
 thought she was going to be ill again. But this last week, 
 in a really wonderful way, she has got back her health 
 and spirits. You see how right you were in what you 
 said to me about providing her with interests social in- 
 terests, and so on. Yes, Sir Rawlin, I put it all down to 
 you. Ever since that stupid little luncheon of mine, 
 which was the outcome of your suggestions, Nest has 
 been a different person." 
 
 "You have given me," said Sir Rawlin, "the exact 
 encouragement I require; for, to tell you the truth, one 
 of my reasons for coming here was to suggest to you for 
 her benefit two dissipations more." He then went on 
 to mention the coming fete. He begged that Lady 
 Susannah and Miss Vivian would keep him in counte- 
 nance by being present at it; and, finding that his first 
 proposal was received with sufficient favor, he proceeded 
 to broach the second. " Besides the fete," he said, " an- 
 other event is impending: a ball in honor of mi-careme 
 I believe an unusually good one. Now, why should 
 Miss Vivian not also go to that? I thought I should 
 have found your own name down in the list of patron- 
 esses." 
 
 "Oh," said Lady Susannah, with a plaintive, depre- 
 cating smile, " balls are not at all in my line. But, upon 
 my word, I don't know about Nest. George Carlton, 
 who went on into Cornwall, is coming back to us; and 
 there isn't a dowager in London who's a safer chaperon 
 than he is. Let us ask Nest herself; for, of course, 
 though I was remiss enough not to say this before, you'll 
 stay and lunch with us won't you ? and we can have 
 it all out then." 
 
 Sir Rawlin was interrupted in his acceptance of this 
 invitation by two sudden noises in the hall that of an 
 opening door and that of an excited voice. 
 
 "Oh, Nest," called the voice it plainly proceeded 
 
 94
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 from Miss Arundel "come into the school-room do! 
 Mr. Hugo has opened his parcel, and what do you think 
 was in it ? Sir Rawlin has had it sent from Vienna. It's 
 a beautiful little tube of radium!" 
 
 Sir Rawlin, on hearing this, leaned back in his chair 
 and laughed. 
 
 "I declare," said Lady Susannah, "you're spoiling my 
 whole family. Ah, there's Oswald outside." She rose 
 and tapped the window. " Tell him your news while I 
 get ready for luncheon. Oswald, my dear, come in; 
 here's some one who wants to speak to you." 
 
 The boy came as invited, and the luncheon-bell had 
 not rung before he looked even happier than Sir Rawlin 
 had hoped to see him. Nor was Mr. Hugo, who was 
 found standing in the hall when Lady Susannah con- 
 ducted Sir Rawlin to the dining-room, in a state less en- 
 viable than his brother's. His delight with his present 
 was so great as to render his thanks inaudible, but his 
 face was fossilized into a smile which his manhood was 
 unable to subjugate. They had just seated themselves 
 when Miss Vivian made her appearance. She hardly 
 looked at Sir Rawlin, but her eyes were gay and shining, 
 and her cheeks, as she slipped quietly into the vacant 
 place beside him, colored like a pink shell. 
 
 The boys showed a tendency to mask their respective 
 exhilarations under covert witticisms at the expense of 
 Miss Arundel's housekeeping; and Sir Rawlin, who seem- 
 ed to have brought with him a general spirit of cheerful- 
 ness, soon proclaimed to his neighbor the secret with 
 which he had lately tantalized her namely, his two pro- 
 posals relating to the fete and ball. Would anybody go 
 to either ? And who would go to which ? All of them 
 would go to the fete and hear Sir Rawlin speak. The 
 future diplomatist would perhaps go to the ball. Miss 
 Vivian would do so, certainly, if Cousin George Carlton 
 would take her. Such was the conclusion arrived at to 
 the satisfaction of everybody. 
 
 "And now," said Sir Rawlin, "a happy thought has 
 
 95
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 struck me. Among the many odd things I've become 
 in the course of the past fortnight, one, I believe, is the 
 president of the Southquay Golf Club. Since, as I hear, 
 the farmer up on the hill will not allow the young ladies 
 the use of his field any longer, why should not Miss Viv- 
 ian let golf take the place of hockey?" 
 
 "My dear Nest," said Miss Arundel, "golf would be 
 just the thing for you. And you, Mr. Hugo, you used 
 to play when you were at school. You might go, too; 
 and, if you are good, you might take Elvira. Elvira is 
 coming after luncheon. She and you might show Nest 
 the links, at all events; though, of course, as you're not 
 members, they won't let you into the club-house." 
 
 Sir Rawlin suggested that, as his position of president 
 probably gave him the right of introducing any friends 
 he chose, he should go with them himself and make a 
 trial of his new privileges. " Do," said Lady Susannah; 
 and so that matter was settled. Miss Elvira arrived, 
 rosy, smiling, and muscular; and when she and Mr. 
 Hugo had started, leading the way, Sir Rawlin and Miss 
 Vivian followed at a more leisurely pace, Oswald having 
 meanwhile absented himself on some unexplained busi- 
 ness of his own. 
 
 Sir Rawlin set out with an unacknowledged feeling at 
 his heart that things to-day were going at once right and 
 wrong with him. It was all very well to tell himself that 
 this girl was a child ; but everything distinctive of wom- 
 anhood, which has ever troubled man or itself, seemed 
 latent now in her eyes, in the disturbing delicacy of her 
 intonations, and in the footsteps accompanying his own 
 with such a docile and gay fidelity. He was, neverthe- 
 less, tempted to reflect presently that this maturity, de- 
 spite its dangers, was in some measure its own safe- 
 guard. 
 
 He began, by way of keeping to safe topics, with ask- 
 ing her if she knew what had happened to the absent 
 Oswald. 
 
 "Yes," she said, laughing, "I know, though he hasn't 
 
 96
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 told me. He's gone to revisit a spot where he fell in love 
 yesterday afternoon with a beautiful being whom he en- 
 countered when he walked with me up to Miss Aldritch's. 
 She was coming out of the gardens of your crescent, look- 
 ing as if the world belonged to her ; and I must say, for 
 Oswald's credit, that she stared at him as if he belonged 
 to her, too. It's so easy to see through boys. Ever 
 since then he's felt that he has made a conquest, By 
 this time he's watching the gate, and I dare say com- 
 posing a poem about her about unkissed kisses, and 
 ' broken ' and ' unspoken. ' " 
 
 A young lady, he felt, who could talk about matters 
 in this fashion was not devoid of qualities which would 
 make her her own protectress. 
 
 The nearest way to the golf-course was by the path 
 which a week ago Miss Vivian had traversed with Mr. 
 Barton, and which ran by the grove of firs under which 
 she had sketched that morning; but farther on, where 
 it mounted some rising ground, it was seen to skirt so 
 closely the brink of an appalling precipice, over which 
 Mr. Hugo and Miss Elvira now appeared to be hanging, 
 that Miss Vivian entreated her companion to take her 
 by the shore instead. 
 
 Sir Rawlin assented with some secret reluctance. 
 " Yes," he said, "if you like it, I'm sure that your plan 
 is possible. Indeed, I can just remember being taken 
 that way when a boy. There used, somewhere at the 
 end, to be an odd old haunted house." A haunted 
 house would be a topic even safer than the heart of 
 Oswald. 
 
 They descended to the shore accordingly, and, much 
 to Sir Rawlin's satisfaction, another safe topic was 
 started by the girl herself namely, the technique of 
 painting in water-colors. What indiscretion could lurk 
 in discussions as to lakes and carmines, cobalts and flake 
 whites, and their several relations to the magic of seas 
 and hills and sunsets ? And yet even pigments and their 
 uses were not without some human interest ; for Sir Raw- 
 
 97
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 lin, having touched on the methods by which various 
 effects were producible, was naturally questioned about 
 the purposes to which he had himself applied them ; and 
 just as naturally his answers, deserting paints and paint- 
 boxes, grew into descriptions of the scenes he had tried 
 to capture Eastern evenings descending over plains 
 where tents and camels shared the solitude with the 
 mounds of Mesopotamian cities ; primitive water-wheels 
 whose pitchers might have ministered to the flocks of 
 Abraham; apparitions of appalling palaces lost in for- 
 gotten deserts, and castles of crusading counts at whose 
 portals were stone lions, and whose halls and fountained 
 courts the boldest sheik of the Hauran had never dared 
 to enter, deeming them the abode of demons. 
 
 A walk of half a mile, beguiled by descriptions such 
 as these, brought them from the beach to a cart-track 
 which, issuing from a disused quarry, hugged the base 
 of the cliffs, and to which they were obliged to betake 
 themselves. Following this, and presently turning a 
 corner, they were confronted by a curious spectacle. To 
 Miss Vivian it was new and startling. It came back to 
 Sir Rawlin as a vision half remembered. Before them 
 was a sequestered creek, which was bordered on the 
 farther side, not by cliffs, but by a gradual and wooded 
 slope ; and at the bottom of this, and almost touched by 
 the sea, was an isolated and extensive habitation of a 
 laughably fantastic character. It consisted of a circular 
 structure surmounted by grotesque battlements, pierced 
 with horseshoe windows, spiked with stucco minarets, 
 and flanked by two long annexes of the same style as the 
 centre. In front of it was a terrace with walls, the bases 
 of which were green with sea-weed, and which alone, to 
 all appearance, saved the whole from being washed away. 
 
 "Ah," said Sir Rawlin, "there it is! That's the old 
 haunted house. It used, I think, to be called the Turk- 
 ish Castle. It was built by an Anglo-Indian, who for 
 some reason never lived in it. We used to be told that 
 it was full of mirrors and gorgeous gilding; but sight- 
 
 98
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 seers were never admitted, and I'm sure we can neither 
 of us wonder that it never had found a tenant." 
 
 At the point where they were now standing the cart- 
 track began to rise and a smaller track branched off from 
 it, running down to a stunted pier, from which the stone 
 of the quarry had been formerly transferred to lighters. 
 A little way up the ascent the two spectators paused, 
 and, leaning together on the bar of a broken fence, they 
 contemplated the castle again, whose details were now 
 more distinguishable. 
 
 "Look at it," said Sir Rawlin. "Not another house 
 in sight. One might be at the end of the world here, 
 instead of in the heart of Southquay. The interior, we 
 used to be told, was always kept in repair, though no 
 one was allowed to enter it. I dare say it is so still, 
 though the garden on the terrace in front is nothing 
 more than a wilderness." 
 
 Here he was checked by the girl, who suddenly seized 
 his arm, and drawing herself close to him whispered, 
 with a slight shudder: 
 
 "Hush! Do you see that just down below us, on 
 the pier?" 
 
 At the end of the pier, within reach of a child's stone- 
 throw, was a man, solitary and motionless, who, like 
 themselves, had his eyes fixed on the castle. He was 
 looking at it through a pair of opera-glasses. His figure, 
 tall and striking, was shrouded in a long blue cloak, and 
 in the easy erectness of his bearing there was a suggestion 
 of military command. 
 
 "What can he be up to?" said Miss Vivian in Sir 
 Rawlin's ear. " He's got his watch out, as though he 
 were timing something. I call this most uncanny." 
 
 They continued to observe in silence, till Sir Rawlin, 
 in a whisper like her own, called her attention to an ob- 
 ject on the parapet of the sea-wall opposite. 
 
 "At first," he said, "I thought it was a man, but it 
 isn't; it's a kind of scarecrow. And now good Heav- 
 ens! what's this? Is this a ghost or a woman ?" 
 
 99
 
 While he was speaking a curious thing had happened. 
 A figure, seemingly female, had emerged from some por- 
 tion of the desolate pile of buildings, and rapidly flitting 
 toward the object which Sir Rawlin had called a scare- 
 crow, administered a violent and apparently murderous 
 push to it, sending it headlong into the water, on which 
 it remained floating. Then the moving apparition hur- 
 riedly retraced its steps and was lost to sight behind a 
 turret in which the sea-wall terminated. At the same 
 time the cloaked watcher put his opera-glasses into his 
 pocket and turned round to quit the pier. 
 
 Sir Rawlin and Miss Vivian could now see his face. 
 It was one, as they both felt, which it would not be easy 
 to forget. Clean-shaven, except for a slight mustache 
 and imperial, it might have been the face of an ambas- 
 sador, a foreign general, or even an aristocratic con- 
 spirator. It was certainly un-English, and the quiet 
 and possessive confidence with which the man surveyed 
 the scene invested him with an air which Englishmen 
 regard as insolent when any one but an Englishman ex- 
 hibits it out of his own country. 
 
 "If we walk on slowly," said Sir Rawlin, "he will 
 presently catch us up, and then we can see him better." 
 
 This expectation was not, however, verified by events. 
 The man, seemingly lost in his own thoughts, and wear- 
 ing a slight smile, picked his way down the sloping side 
 of the pier, by which, as they now perceived, a small 
 boat was rocking; and presently with vigorous strokes 
 he was pulling himself toward the building opposite. 
 The last they saw of him was that, close to the sea-wall, 
 he was drawing the floating figure into his little craft 
 with a boat-hook. 
 
 Full of speculation as to the meaning of these mys- 
 terious proceedings, and the possible character of their 
 no less mysterious hero, Sir Rawlin and Miss Vivian 
 made their way to the golf-ground, where, in taking a 
 short route to the club-house, they only just, by in- 
 stinctive and mutual consent, contrived to avoid at- 
 
 100
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 tracting the observation of Colonel O'Brian. The Colo- 
 nel, in monumental stockings, the pattern of which 
 would have been legible at a distance of five hundred 
 yards, was luckily occupied with a black-eyed and sal- 
 low-faced companion, whom he was, with considerable 
 gusto, addressing by the title of count. 
 
 " What an escape !" said Miss Vivian, as they sheltered 
 themselves behind a ridge of hillocks. " I hope I may 
 never be submitted to a second course of his fascina- 
 tions. We can't stop long. If he sees us with Elvira 
 we are done for. Where is she? And where is Mr. 
 Hugo ? Let us find them at once and be off. Ah, she 
 is there. She sees us. She is standing at the door of 
 the club-house." 
 
 " It's all right. The pater has got us in." Such was 
 Miss Elvira's greeting when the two others approached 
 her. " The pater would have stopped for we told him 
 that you were coming if he hadn't been hurried away 
 to play a twosome with Count Giordano. Mr. Hugo 
 and I are going to begin next week ; and now, Mr. Hugo 
 says, let's go home to school-room tea." 
 
 Sir Rawlin and Miss Vivian were delighted to get out 
 of the Colonel's range, and the whole party returned to 
 Cliff's End together. 
 
 The following day was Sunday; and now once more 
 Sir Rawlin, when he said good-bye to his friends, dis- 
 covered the power of circumstances to bring about the 
 unintended. 
 
 "I don't know," said Lady Susannah, "what church 
 you may go to; but perhaps, if you go to All Saints', 
 we may see you after one of the services." 
 
 Miss Vivian was watching him as he answered. " I 
 shouldn't," he said, "wonder if you found me there." 
 
 But not even yet were the incidents of the day over 
 for him. The unintended met him again, when he en- 
 tered the crescent gardens, on his way back to his hotel. 
 It was now twilight, but the twilight was still luminous; 
 and where two walks met he encountered a noticeable 
 
 101
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 lady, the finished arrogance of whose bearing even the 
 twilight could not obscure. He glanced at her with 
 some curiosity, thoughts of Oswald recurring to him; 
 and he became aware, as he did so, not only of a hand- 
 some face, but of a face which, after a moment's scrutiny 
 of him, became enlivened with a half-seen smile. 
 
 "And so," said the lady, "it's you! You're a very 
 uncivil man. Perhaps it hasn't occurred to you that 
 I've been here for two whole days, dying for some one to 
 talk to, and you haven't been once to see me." 
 
 " Lady Conway !" exclaimed Sir Rawlin. " Of course I 
 had heard that you were coming. Everybody has heard 
 that. But I had not an idea that you had arrived." 
 
 "Then I know more about you," she said, "than you 
 know about me. I know where you lunched to-day. I 
 might have known, had I wished to do so, exactly what 
 you had for luncheon; and I've discovered a new cousin 
 who, when I last saw him, was in pinafores. Oswald 
 was very rightly of opinion that a cat may look at a 
 queen he'll go far, will Oswald and so I saw no reason 
 why a queen shouldn't talk to a cat. I asked him his 
 name, and I found he was my own flesh and blood a 
 third cousin, only two or three times removed. ' Oswald,' 
 I said to him, when the terrible parting came, 'if we 
 weren't within the prohibited degrees, I really think I 
 should kiss you.' And now, my dear man, this evening 
 I'm all alone. Shall I eat my heart out by myself, or 
 will you eat a mutton-chop in my company, and tell 
 me about the pretty young lady whose education you 
 appear to have undertaken? She, I should gather, is 
 likely to go as far as Oswald." 
 
 Lady Conway was the marchioness whose brilliant 
 and superlative patronage was to glorify the coming 
 fete and also Sir Rawlin' s first public introduction to the 
 constituency.
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 THE appearance of Lady Conway on the scene had 
 been far from welcome to Sir Rawlin. It dragged 
 him back into a world from which he had been just 
 escaping. When, therefore, on Sunday morning he be- 
 took himself to Mr. Barton's church through quiet fields, 
 only agitated by the sounds of far-off bells, he had pleas- 
 ure in feeling that he was on his way to a refuge where 
 this keen -eyed critic would not be watching his ac- 
 tions. The unusual beauty of the building, the magnifi- 
 cence of the organ, the lifting power of the music at first 
 surrounded him with an atmosphere in which present 
 things were forgotten ; and the middle of the service had 
 been reached before he became aware of a figure, delicate 
 and white as a snowdrop, among the darkness of the 
 neighboring worshippers. A hymn was in progress, and 
 Miss Vivian was standing. Her eyes were contemplating 
 her book; but presently, for no obvious reason, she raised 
 them, looked across the white fur of her boa, and en- 
 countered Sir Rawlin 's glance with an answering glance 
 of recognition which lasted just long enough to em- 
 phasize its abrupt withdrawal. 
 
 After service he accompanied Lady Susannah's party, 
 including the two boys, who half enjoyed church as a 
 foil to their own enlightenment, back to Cliff's End across 
 the sloping fields and orchards. In the course of con- 
 versation it transpired that Mr. Hugo and Miss Elvira 
 proposed to start again for the golf-course next morning 
 at half-past eleven ; and before Sir Rawlin knew what his 
 lips had spoken, he had said to Miss Vivian: 
 
 " And shall you and I go there, too, as an excuse for 
 
 103
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 another investigation of the enchanted castle, by-the- 
 way?" 
 
 The assent given by the eyes of the young lady in 
 white was satisfied by her aunt, who proceeded to express 
 a hope that Sir Rawlin would share their luncheon. 
 "Nest," she said, "wants to show you her sketches. I 
 dare say if you saw some more of them you could tell her 
 where she goes wrong." 
 
 "Aunt Susannah," said Miss Vivian, "please spare 
 my blushes. I should never have ventured to make 
 that suggestion myself; but now that the ice is broken, 
 I'll go on to another, which is that Sir Rawlin would 
 some day allow us to see his own." 
 
 Sir Rawlin expressed a readiness to bring them his 
 portfolio for their inspection, but declared that he must 
 lunch at home, where a mass of correspondence claimed 
 him. Thus did one thing lead on to another. The 
 following morning came, and, true to his appointment, 
 he was at Cliff's End once more. 
 
 Mr. Hugo and Miss Elvira again went by the hill, Sir 
 Rawlin and Miss Vivian by the shore; and the latter, 
 before long, found themselves for a second time scanning 
 the building which had roused in them so strong a curi- 
 osity. There it was, fantastic and forlorn, as they re- 
 membered it; but its aspect had undergone a change, 
 as though a cloud had been partly lifted from it. Of 
 its many blinds, some had been drawn up. Of the win- 
 dows, some were open; and from some of the chimneys 
 wreaths of smoke were rising. They realized also, as 
 they had not done before, that the public road into 
 which the cart-track brought them led to the castle 
 gates, these being not far off; and the spirit of adventure 
 prompted them to approach the red stone gate-posts 
 and get what view they might of the strange precinct 
 within. The rusty gates were open, and the portals 
 of the mansion itself, surmounted by arabesques in 
 stucco, were some fifty yards away. There were wheel- 
 marks on the gravel, but the rough grass was uncared 
 
 104
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 for, and the only other vegetation consisted of clumps 
 of rosemary. Half ashamed of seeming to stand there 
 like a pair of intruding tourists, they had become, never- 
 theless, so absorbed in the scene before them that pres- 
 ently they were startled by finding a man confronting 
 them, without their having noticed his approach or being 
 able to conjecture whence he came. Though he was not 
 the solitary of the pier, he, too, like that personage, was 
 enveloped in a long cloak; but his general aspect was 
 otherwise widely different. His cloak itself differed 
 from that of the solitary in the bold self-confidence of 
 the patterning which striped its soft brown substance; 
 and thrown back as it was with a somewhat rakish air, 
 it revealed a satin scarf on whose gloss was a huge pearl 
 set in such a manner as to mimic a human skull. His 
 boots were perfection, his checked trousers were crease- 
 less, and a hand which the cloak left visible bore a 
 noticeable turquoise ring. The man was none other 
 than Sir Rawlin's friend, the traveller. 
 
 Sir Rawlin, whether he blushed or no, had a passing 
 suspicion that he must be doing so. 
 
 "What!" he exclaimed; "and so it's you, is it, who 
 are lord of the enchanted castle ? This young lady and 
 I were on our way to the golf - course when the fatal 
 passion of curiosity tempted us from the right path. 
 You know who she is already. I must tell her that 
 you're Lord Cotswold." 
 
 Miss Vivian recognized the name. She remembered, 
 with a faint smile, the discussion of it at her aunt's 
 table. Lord Cotswold raised his hat a sort of melo- 
 drama in felt with an air of delightful deference. 
 
 " My dear," he said, kindly, " do you see this deserted 
 garden? You are probably the first flower that has 
 blossomed in it for sixty years. The enchantments of 
 my castle, like its antiquity, I fear, are skin-deep only. 
 If Miss Vivian and Miss Vivian's family I must have 
 known some of her relations once would not be afraid 
 of any malign influences in it, I hope I may be allowed 
 
 105
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 to exhibit it to them when its rooms are in better order. 
 At present it is a monastery inhabited by two monks. 
 We are waiting to break our vows till the housemaids 
 have swept and garnished us." 
 
 The girl looked at him with an expression which failed 
 to have some spice of coquetry only because it was 
 adapted so perfectly to the natural claims of Lord Cots- 
 wold's age and dignity. 
 
 "Nothing will persuade me," she said, "that you 
 haven't a ghost to enliven you. I saw it myself in broad 
 daylight on Saturday. Your brother monk at least, 
 I suppose it was he was watching it, like a prudent 
 man, from the other side of the water." 
 
 "Ah, young lady," said Lord Cotswold, "you saw 
 that experiment, did you? My brother monk is repeat- 
 ing it in the house now, and I have to go in and watch 
 it before it's over. I'm coming, by-the-way, my dear 
 Rawlin, to hear your opening speech, and I hope this 
 first flower of my garden will ornament your audience 
 also. She must, therefore," he went on, "if I unwill- 
 ingly say good-bye to her, allow me to mean by it that 
 I am trusting to see her very soon again. I leave you, 
 my dear, in the care of one of my most valued friends." 
 
 "That's the man," said Sir Rawlin, as they turned 
 away, "to whom in a sense I owe everything. Lord 
 Cotswold was my chief in Persia. Some people call him 
 a quack. They don't mean that he hasn't a keen eye 
 for realities. They mean that he takes for realities 
 what other people call visions. What for them are brick 
 walls are for him battlements over which he leans and 
 watches." 
 
 The girl hung on his words, fascinated by what to her 
 were merely their vague suggestions. 
 
 "I don't know," he went on, "what your aunt will 
 think when she hears that you have made his acquaint- 
 ance. When we get back we must grasp our nettle and 
 tell her. Meanwhile, I have guessed who his brother 
 monk is. He is either the devil, or else he is Dr. Thistle- 
 
 106
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 wood, with whom Lord Cotswold has just been round 
 the world." 
 
 " A doctor," said Miss Vivian, in a tone of disappointed 
 doubt. " But what makes you think him a doctor ? 
 He's like none of the many doctors who have had to do 
 with me. One could fancy him giving orders to soldiers, 
 but not to people in bed." 
 
 "If he is really Dr. Thistlewood," said Sir Rawlin, 
 " he has given orders to both. When little more than a 
 boy he was one of Garibaldi's officers; and years later, 
 when the cholera was raging at Naples, he turned a house 
 of his own there a great palace into a hospital, and 
 lived among the dead and dying. He was celebrated 
 everywhere as a hero he and the King of Italy. If that 
 man is Dr. Thistlewood, I should very much like to 
 meet him." 
 
 " Oh, well," said Miss Vivian, " this sounds much more 
 promising. By-the-way, it's lucky that we sha'n't meet 
 Colonel O' Brian. Elvira told me that her papa had gone 
 somewhere with his Count Giordano, who looked to me 
 like a cross between a Jew and a Greek. I never in my 
 life saw a more disgusting creature. He actually dared 
 to stare at me." 
 
 Lady Susannah, when, by luncheon-time, the party 
 had come safely back to her, would not permit to Sir 
 Rawlin a second evasion of her hospitality; and he, feel- 
 ing that he must explain to her the meeting of her niece 
 with Lord Cotswold, could not have refused the invita- 
 tion even had he wished to do so. Her equable reception 
 of the news at once surprised and relieved him. It ap- 
 peared that a note had just reached her from Lady Con- 
 way, who, never having remembered her existence for 
 something like twenty years, was proposing to call on 
 her now, if only she could find time. 
 
 " I think," said Lady Susannah, with as near an ap- 
 proach to asperity as good-nature permitted in the breast 
 of a Christian woman " I think if we are to have Maud 
 Conway here we need hardly be afraid of Lord Cotswold." 
 
 a 107
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 In this way everything passed off smoothly, and Sir 
 Rawlin found himself pledged, before he was suffered 
 to depart, to show them next day at tea-time his collec- 
 tion of Oriental sketches. 
 
 He proved himself a man of his word. The portfolio 
 by the time named had preceded its owner in a cab and 
 been carried into the school-room, where a large table 
 had been cleared for it. Another table, as before, was 
 laden with a substantial tea; and Miss Vivian and her 
 three cousins, together with the cat Peter and the smiling 
 dachshund James, were awaiting the advent of the artist, 
 who was understood to be walking. Mr. Hugo, pleasant- 
 ly hungry, peeped under the cover of the muffin- dish. 
 Oswald, loftily conscious of a new and hopeless passion, 
 and also of a passion on Lady Conway's part, equally 
 hopeless, which responded to it conscious also that, an 
 object of dark interest to others, he would soon be 
 breathing his sorrow to the Propontic and Hellespontic 
 waves was in better spirits than he ever had been in 
 before; while Miss Vivian disguised her expectancy by 
 watching the dog James as she baffled him in his meek 
 attempts at biting her pointed shoe. 
 
 "Nest," said Mr. Hugo, indicating a sealed medicine- 
 bottle which stood on a shelf in front of some battered 
 school-books, " the process has begun already. In three 
 weeks' time that bottle will be full of life." 
 
 "Mr. Hugo," said Miss Vivian, not troubling to look 
 up at him, "when you talk like that you're a goose. 
 No, you're not you're a gosling." 
 
 "So you say," retorted Mr. Hugo, rather feebly. "I 
 suppose you think," he proceeded, being better at ex- 
 position than repartee, " that you yourself are a sort of 
 special creation. You're no more a special creation than 
 that cucumber which you ate at luncheon. If ever I 
 have any children I shall grow their heads, like cucum- 
 bers, in glasses of different shapes. One of these will 
 be like the head of Darwin, another like the head of 
 the lowest type of Hottentot, and the characters of the 
 
 1 08
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 children for their heads are at first quite soft will be 
 just what I have chosen to make them. You, Nest, are 
 merely a house built out of little bricks of plasm; and 
 you're a chapel or a dressmaker's shop, and not a villa 
 or a brewery, simply because your bricks have been laid 
 in a certain way." 
 
 In this bold restatement, however, of the scientific 
 gospel, he was interrupted by the entrance of his aunt, 
 with Sir Rawlin and Mr. Carlton following her. 
 
 "My dear fellow," Mr. Carlton was saying, "your 
 drawings will be indeed a treat. I've been always so 
 much interested in the East all palms and rajahs so 
 much nicer than Belgravia. I know nothing of it per- 
 sonally but just the little bit of India so stiff and offi- 
 cial which I saw with the prince and princess. Well, 
 my dears," he went on, addressing the others, "here 
 you see me back again. How those trains from Cornwall 
 crawl! Susie, dear creature, as the maids say, I'm lit- 
 erally dropping for my tea." 
 
 Tea was dispensed accordingly, and afterward, when 
 the portfolio was opened 
 
 "Now, Nest," said Mr. Carlton, "sit by Sir Rawlin 
 on the sofa, for this is all in your honor, and you can 
 hand us the pictures when you've done with them." 
 
 So the exhibition proceeded. The sketches were ex- 
 plained and circulated; but, as the competition for them 
 increased, Miss Vivian rose from her seat, and retired to 
 the window with several of them which she studied with 
 deep attention, casting now and again a hasty glance at 
 the artist. 
 
 Matters were in this position, the room being a general 
 litter of water-colors, teacups, and plates, and Oswald 
 of the Byronic eyes happened to be indulging on his 
 knees in some furtive performances with the cat, when 
 Lady Susannah, who had hurriedly been called away, 
 reappeared in the doorway with somebody else talking 
 to her. 
 
 "My dear," this somebody was saying, in a voice of 
 109
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 incisive suavity, " don't be like the farmers' wives and 
 imprison me in the best parlor. So this is the school- 
 room, is it? Delightful! I don't wonder it's popular." 
 
 The voice was still speaking when Lady Susannah, a 
 little discomposed, uttered to the general assembly the 
 words: "Here is Lady Conway." 
 
 A certain commotion was caused by this lady's entry. 
 "Ah," she said, "I see two friends already Sir Rawlin 
 and George Carlton. Susannah, you have quite a salon. 
 And now, where are my cousins? Are you one?" she 
 said to Miss Arundel. "Well, my dear, how are you? 
 And you," she went on, turning Mr. Hugo round "you, 
 I suppose, are Science. Your brother, whom I know, 
 is Poetry, and that young lady in the window, with the 
 drawings in her hands, is Art. Her devotion to it ap- 
 pears extraordinary. I must go over and tell her how 
 pretty I think her frock is." 
 
 Lady Conway seemed to have been making every- 
 thing in the room her own, until she approached Miss 
 Vivian, when her manner slightly changed. She looked 
 the girl up and down. She looked her inquiringly in the 
 eyes. 
 
 "If I'd known before that you were here," she said, 
 " I'd have taken you to this ball myself. However," 
 she added, with a smile in the direction of Mr. Carlton, 
 " I gather that you'll be under the care of a much older 
 woman than I am. And are those your own draw- 
 ings that you're looking at with such flattering inter- 
 est?" 
 
 " No," said Miss Vivian, " they are some of Sir Rawlin 
 Stantor's. He's been showing my aunt and all of us the 
 things he did in the East." 
 
 Lady Conway's only verbal reply was short; but she 
 looked at the girl again with a sort of comprehending 
 sympathy, which seemed to have a trace of pity in it. 
 
 " Ah, my dear Oswald," she went on, " from what hole 
 have you sprung? Have you only just appeared or 
 have you been trying to cut me?" 
 
 no
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 Oswald by this time had drifted quietly near her, the 
 lover in him having by this time recovered itself from 
 his unfortunate familiarities with the cat. Lady Con- 
 way gave him her hand, and, as he held it in speaking 
 silence, she glanced for an instant at Miss Vivian, her 
 eyes alight with laughter. To this Miss Vivian respond- 
 ed with an intelligence equal to Lady Conway's. She 
 might have been one woman looking at another of similar 
 years and experience. Her manner, however, of regard- 
 ing this new acquaintance presently became more critical 
 Lady Conway, having proceeded to make a very substan- 
 tial tea, and having examined with an air of authority 
 several of Sir Rawlin's drawings, approached the artist, 
 and, laying a careless hand on his shoulder, said to 
 him: 
 
 "Look here, are you listening? Before this ball the 
 day after to-morrow, isn't it? if it doesn't begin at 
 tea-time, you had better come and dine again with me. 
 Indeed, if you're not a fixture here, you might walk 
 home with me now." 
 
 Miss Vivian caught the words, and noticed the action 
 which accompanied them. Before long it was evident 
 that Lady Conway was going. Sir Rawlin rose, as 
 though he must be going also, and making his way tow- 
 ard the window 
 
 "Will you," he said to the girl, "put the pictures to- 
 gether and take care of them for me, and give them to 
 me when I come again?" 
 
 She was still examining one of them, over which she 
 now bent more closely. 
 
 "Yes, yes," she answered, without looking up. "I 
 had wanted to ask you about some of them. But 
 well, my questions must wait. You are walking back 
 with that woman, aren't you? From something you 
 said yesterday, I suppose we sha'n't meet before the 
 ball. If she doesn't take up all your time, I dare say we 
 may meet there. My dress will be black and white 
 white, with black velvet bows. That will help you to 
 
 in
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 remember me. Thank you for showing us the pictures; 
 and so good-bye till then." 
 
 She snatched her hand away from him, rose, and 
 turning to the window looked out into the gathering 
 twilight, while he went through his other leave-takings.
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 SIR RAWLIN, for the next two days, was again en- 
 gaged in business, and, except in his character of a 
 candidate, neither called on nor saw any one until, on 
 the night of the ball, he presented himself for dinner at 
 Lady Conway's. 
 
 "I wonder," she began, when the servants had left 
 the room " come, if you won't drink, smoke I wonder 
 who that girl's parents are." 
 
 " What girl ?" asked Sir Rawlin, as he applied a match 
 to a cigarette. 
 
 " I don't think much of you," said Lady Conway, " for 
 asking such a stupid question. The little minx with the 
 smart frock, who is so occupied with you and your 
 water-colors." 
 
 "Oh," said Sir Rawlin, "I think I can tell you that. 
 The father is Captain Rhys Vivian." 
 
 "To be sure," said Lady Conway, interrupting him. 
 " He's the man who was said by his friends to suffer 
 from a peculiar madness a kind of kleptomania which 
 only developed itself at the card-table. Anyhow, he 
 committed that one sin for which there is no forgiveness 
 in this world or the next. It's odd that commentators 
 on the Bible should have never discovered what it is. 
 I saw him when I was a girl the admired of all admirers. 
 Full of good-nature, they said he was. He left England 
 and married some Belgian countess the heiress of a 
 great chocolate-maker at least, he did so as soon as the 
 inevitable husband died. For the sake of his beaux yeux 
 she, of course, thought him a martyr." 
 
 "Well," said Sir Rawlin, glad to continue on safe 
 "3
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 ground, " the father, you say, was good-natured. He 
 must certainly be so to his daughter. This young lady 
 has money. She can order whatever she likes. But 
 it seems she's been very ill from the after-affects of in- 
 fluenza, and is here to get back her strength. I fancy, 
 however, that this is only part of the story. There's a 
 half-sister, it seems, who goes by a different name so, 
 at least, I gather from Lady Susannah and for some 
 reason or other they don't get on together, for if this one 
 goes back to her parents, the other is to come here in- 
 stead of her. My own impression is that this one must 
 be illegitimate." 
 
 "Precisely," said Lady Con way. "My dear man, 
 you're quite astute. One is the daughter of the bond- 
 woman, the other of the free; one of the mother as a wife, 
 the other of the mother as a mistress; and Miss Isaac, 
 depend upon it, makes home too hot for Miss Ishmael. 
 Or else, perhaps, this little illegitimate person can't bear 
 being reminded that her mother was not always quite so 
 good as she might have been; and yet she, I suspect, has 
 something of mamma's blood in her veins, to judge by 
 the impertinence of her frocks and by her very-much- 
 too-pretty eyes. But what strikes me as so funny I'm 
 thinking of poor Susannah. Yes, yes, to be sure I begin 
 to see light now." 
 
 "What," said Sir Rawlin, "are you laughing at?" 
 
 " You will," replied Lady Conway, " hardly believe me 
 if I tell you. You see what Susannah is now. She was 
 never much better-looking. But Fate finds out all of 
 us ; and Susannah it was a family legend had her own 
 romance like the rest of us. This dazzling warrior was 
 the hero of it. She must have two thousand a year, so 
 it's quite possible that he encouraged her; and now, poor 
 dear, she at last finds she can be of use to him. Oswald 
 told me a thing or two; but I don't think he knew much 
 and his memory has temporarily failed him for every- 
 thing except myself." 
 
 "Yes," said Sir Rawlin, reflectively, "boys are cu- 
 
 114
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 rious creatures. Their first loves are always wom- 
 en 
 
 " Finish your sentence," said Lady Con way. " 'Women 
 old enough to be their great-great-grandmothers.' Well, 
 there's hope for us all. Men, in their own way, are creat- 
 ures just as curious. My dear man," she continued, " I 
 was on the point of preaching you a sermon, but I won't. 
 Just wait a little, and I'll show you that I can do bet- 
 ter. At what hour does this brilliant function begin? 
 At ten, do you say? Then we'd better ring for coffee." 
 
 The rooms in which the ball was given opened from 
 a circular hall, where members of the committee were 
 signalizing themselves by welcoming the more important 
 guests. Lady Conway, the moment she emerged from 
 the cloak-room, was beset by official gentlemen orna- 
 mented with pink rosettes. Then the official gentlemen 
 were reinforced by some official ladies, foremost among 
 whom was Mrs. Morriston Campbell. 
 
 " It's so good of you to come," the official ladies mur- 
 mured an assertion which Lady Conway delighted 
 them by contradicting flatly. 
 
 "I expect," said Mrs. Morriston Campbell, oozing 
 with abashed importance, " you'll find many people here 
 you know. I saw Lady Grange only two minutes ago." 
 
 "Where?" said Lady Conway, in alarm; and then, 
 turning round to Sir Rawlin, " Help me," she whispered, 
 " to escape from that most horrible of all old hags. But, 
 wait a minute." Her eyes meanwhile had strayed, and, 
 moving forward, she captured a young man in a dazzling 
 waistcoat, who was patiently parading a sense of su- 
 periority to the general company. "Captain Vansit- 
 tart," she said, "I want to have one word with you. 
 I've a girl coming here to-night whom I'm anxious to 
 see enjoying herself. I want you to dance with her and 
 get her some decent partners young and beautiful as 
 yourself, if you think such a thing is possible. You 
 won't regret it. Come to me by-and-by in the ball- 
 room."
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 Captain Vansittart, on seeing her, was like a dead man 
 coming to life again, and she left him proclaiming by 
 his carriage that he had not been born in vain. 
 
 "And now," she said to Sir Rawlin, "what shall we 
 dowagers do with ourselves? I'll tell you what you 
 should do. Don't be tied to my apron-strings, but go 
 and make yourself agreeable to every antiquated ob- 
 ject, male or female, that you can put a name to. Ah, 
 here comes Oswald. Sir Rawlin, your country calls you. 
 Oswald, my dear boy, take me into the ball-room, and 
 tell me who some of these odd specimens are. Where," 
 she went on, as they ensconced themselves in a bower of 
 palm-trees " where is that pretty little cousin of yours ?" 
 
 "There she goes," said Oswald. "We did the best 
 we could for her. Her partner has just left Eton the 
 son of a decent parson here." 
 
 Lady Conway followed with her eyes a vision in black 
 and white, whose movements were as exquisite as its 
 millinery, and reduced the partner of its progress to a 
 hardly distinguishable accessory. 
 
 " Isn't my little charge quite too distracting and cap- 
 tivating?" said a voice in her ear, as Mr. George Carlton 
 seated himself. 
 
 "You must bring her to me," said Lady Conway, 
 "when this performance is finished. We'll do better 
 for her presently." 
 
 "I see some one," said Mr. Carlton, "from whom we 
 must protect her at any price a Colonel Brian, or 
 O'Brian, or something. He has a daughter who's a 
 friend of hers; and poor, dear Susie, if you please, who 
 never knew anything of the world, actually asked him 
 to luncheon. Just watch him. He's as good as a play 
 all mustaches and perspiration. Don't speak loud. 
 He's over there, quite close to us, and some brother 
 monster along with him." 
 
 The Colonel, aggressively conscious of his shirt and 
 his evening coat, was addressing his companion in au- 
 dible and highly vivacious tones. 
 
 116
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 " You don't think much of our English young ladies 
 eh, Count ? What do you think of her my young friend 
 who has just gone by ?" 
 
 "You know her what?" exclaimed the other, with a 
 light in his protruding eyes. "Ah, what a waist and 
 shoulders! She's just like how do you call it ? a best 
 girl of my own somewhere. What's her name ? Vivian ? 
 Ah, not a name I know. And yet, if she weren't so 
 haughty, I tell you she'd be just my style. If you really 
 know her, mon Colonel, introduce me. Merely because 
 I am curious, I should just like to hear her talk." 
 
 " Really know her!" said the Colonel. " Wait a bit till 
 you see me whisking her round the room." 
 
 "Oswald," said Lady Conway, "do you see that tall 
 Adonis who seems to be chewing the cud of his own past 
 successes? It's Captain Vansittart. Tell him I want 
 to speak to him; and bring your cousin to me the mo- 
 ment this dance is ended. I'm determined, George, 
 that that child shall have the sort of evening she ought 
 to have. You don't mean to say that Susie lets her 
 talk to a man like that?" 
 
 Mr. Carlton shrugged his shoulders. "By-the way," 
 he said, " I saw in the hall our distinguished member as 
 is to be, quite surrounded by a posse of local bigwigs. 
 What a handsome fellow that is!" 
 
 "Yes," said Lady Conway, "he's as handsome as a 
 man can be without looking a fool like Captain Vansit- 
 tart; and he's not a fool at this moment, for he's fol- 
 lowing my own advice to him." 
 
 Sir Rawlin, indeed, had not only followed her advice, 
 but the moment he saw her address herself to Captain 
 Vansittart he had grasped her immediate intentions, and 
 had ceased to have any doubts as to her meaning. He 
 resented such interference as coming from a woman like 
 her; but the fact that even to her it seemed necessary 
 roused his own scruples into life again. He had seen 
 the back of the girl's head in the distance, and adjacent 
 to it Mr. Carlton's wig. He had turned sharply away. 
 
 117
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 "At all events, her evening," he thought, "shall not be 
 disturbed by me." 
 
 The resolution thus formed he carried out so con- 
 sistently that till long past midnight he did not even 
 enter the ball-room. Fate, however, was a creditor which 
 exacted its dues at last. The wife of the high sheriff, 
 a buxom and lively lady, made it impossible for him, he 
 being a good though unwilling dancer, not to do by her 
 what she obviously considered to be his duty; and the 
 two accordingly added themselves to the medley of 
 revolving couples. As white shoulders and black, as 
 trousers and skirts went by them, she had no time to 
 notice that he had suddenly grown grave and absent. 
 At last he was aware of the figure which he had thus far 
 been so scrupulously avoiding. Their eyes met for a 
 moment. Lady Conway's wisdom had faded into irrel- 
 evant and officious folly. 
 
 The dance ended, and with a dexterity perhaps some- 
 what too pronounced he deposited his lady somewhere 
 he was not very sure where, except that it was near a 
 recess like a magnified bow-window, at the aperture of 
 which, leaning against a tall red curtain, Miss Vivian 
 stood with Captain Vansittart close to her. The young 
 man, who had the air of completing a conquest which 
 was at least begun, was practising attitudes indicative 
 of a tender monopoly. " I'm awfully sorry," he was 
 saying to her, "that I've got to be off to-morrow," and 
 was hastening to add, " But I hope we shall meet in 
 London," when, in the middle of this avowal, he was 
 conscious that her attention wandered. Her eyes lit up. 
 She moved. She evidently had forgotten his existence. 
 
 " I thought," she said, advancing to meet Sir Rawlin 
 " I thought that you were never coming. Here's a seat; 
 or where will that passage take us? I believe I feel 
 rather tired. Let us see if we can't rest in there." 
 
 The passage, as she called it, had originally been an 
 open arcade, running along the fagade of the building 
 between two protruding wings, but now it was glazed in 
 
 118
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 and formed a kind of corridor. At the end of it were two 
 glass doors. Sir Rawlin pushed them open, and he and 
 his companion found themselves in a large space, where 
 bands had at one time played in the open air; but this, 
 too, like the arcade, had now been enclosed by glass and 
 been turned into a winter garden. The middle was at 
 present occupied by a number of long rough tables, 
 evidently prepared for a flower-show. Some chairs had 
 been arranged for such persons as might choose to use 
 them, but nothing else had been done to attract the 
 company of to-night. No lamps had been lighted, and 
 the only artificial illumination came through rose-colored 
 curtains from the shining ball-room within. But the 
 lamps were not missed. The whole place was white with 
 moonlight, and the open sea was visible, flickering 
 through the transparent walls. The whole structure 
 might have been a glass ship afloat on the silvered waters. 
 
 Here at length they seated themselves. Sir Rawlin 
 watched her in silence; and, softened by the intervening 
 windows, the air from " Carmen" came to them: "Si je 
 t'aime, prends garde a toi." The ivory whiteness of her 
 dress, emphasized at the waist and shoulders by clear- 
 cut bands of blackness, the blackness of her long gloves, 
 and the violets dreaming at her breast, gave her the air 
 of a prenaturally young widow, whose vigil was at the 
 gates of the future rather than at the grave of the past. 
 He tried to speak, but his first attempt was a failure. 
 Then in words, the most commonplace he was able to 
 muster, he asked her once more how she had enjoyed her 
 evening. 
 
 " I'm looking at the sea," she answered. " I enjoy the 
 sea much better. That same sea glitters in the Persian 
 Gulf. The Nile and the Ganges and the Euphrates all 
 go flowing into it. Yes, I liked the dancing, as I told 
 you. But what does dancing come to? It makes one 
 want the depths and gives one only the shallows. And 
 you have seen it all all those far-off places and the 
 ships with the odd sails and the minarets and the men 
 
 119
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 with turbans. I don't want to talk. Stay by me and 
 let me just be silent." 
 
 She leaned her chin on one of her slim black hands, and 
 again looked out over the water, lost in her own reflec- 
 tions. Sir Rawlin was lost in reflections of his own like- 
 wise. Memories of Lady Conway's unspoken sermon 
 came back to him. He thought, too, of Lord Cotswold's 
 words: "A child like that is never a child." He grew 
 more and more conscious that, however unwelcome in 
 some ways, the presence of a chaperon would in others 
 be very desirable. In default of a chaperon he brought 
 out a cigarette. A moment later he felt he had been 
 wise in doing so. The doors had been pushed open, and 
 some one or other had entered; but with the aid of his 
 cigarette he managed to be so elaborately natural that 
 he did not even turn to see who or what the intruder 
 was, and Miss Vivian's indifference was apparently even 
 more absolute. Sir Rawlin, indeed, was affecting to be 
 occupied with the course of a moonlit smoke-ring when 
 he heard a voice saying to him: 
 
 "Well, I call this true seclusion. Your discovery of 
 it is the success of the evening." 
 
 Sir Rawlin looked up, and before him was Lady Con- 
 way, with a flash in her eyes, half humorous, half up- 
 braiding. 
 
 "I'm sorry to disturb you," she went on, "but all 
 things must have an end, even seclusion; and this young 
 lady I speak for her cousin George must exchange 
 the quiet of a ball for the comparative dissipation of 
 bed. My dear," she said, turning to the girl, "your 
 carriage has been called already, and precious Cousin 
 George will be in hysterics if he's kept waiting." 
 
 Miss Vivian, however, still comported herself as if she 
 had heard nothing; and Lady Conway, unaccustomed 
 to such behavior, stooped and looked curiously into her 
 face. It was the face of one who was either asleep with 
 her eyes open, or who else, so it seemed to Lady Conway, 
 must have fainted in that condition. Lady Conway 
 
 120
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 knew, for her knowledge in this way was extensive, that 
 women, and especially girls with little experience, do 
 occasionally faint under the onslaughts of male atten- 
 tion; and her own conception of love-making being very 
 far from transcendental, she leaped to the conclusion 
 that Sir Rawlin, by some crude or premature liberty, 
 had succeeded in giving a violent shock to one who had, 
 to say the least of it, a claim on his discreet forbearance. 
 She contemplated the girl with an expression that grad- 
 ually became almost tender. At last she stooped again, 
 and lightly kissed her forehead. Then turning to Sir 
 Rawlin, she said, in a changed tone: 
 
 " I hope you are satisfied with your work. What 
 have you been trying to do to her ? But I know men. 
 I needn't ask. It will be better for your own character 
 hers is of no importance if she's found here with me 
 alone. We may have to call a doctor. What muddlers 
 you men are! You're all of a piece all of you!" 
 
 Sir Rawlin was about to answer, when suddenly, with 
 a brusque movement, Miss Vivian turned round to him 
 and said: 
 
 "Am I very absent?" 
 
 " I'm afraid you are, my dear," said Lady Conway's 
 voice behind her, " and I've come to tell you that Cousin 
 George is particularly anxious that you should be pres- 
 ent. You, Sir Rawlin, quick, go and find Mr. Carlton, 
 and tell him that his young lady's caught and will be 
 out in another minute. You may thank your stars," 
 she added, following him for a few paces, " that nothing 
 worse has come of this. Don't dawdle about and make 
 any scene at parting, but drive back by yourself and wait 
 for me on my own door-step. I've some nice little things 
 to say to you." 
 
 Not very long afterward the echoes of Sir Rawlin's 
 crescent were roused by the rumble of a carriage, and 
 Lady Conway was saying to her footman: " Bring some 
 whiskey and a siphon into the dining-room, and wait 
 up for ten minutes to let Sir Rawlin Stantor out. You 
 
 121
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 see," she continued, when the dining-room door was 
 closed, "how careful I am of that treasure, my own 
 good name. Frederick's virginal eyes shall be satisfied 
 that you're off the premises. And now let me tell you 
 But come, don't stand. Sit down. Let me tell you 
 
 Sir Rawlin, however, interrupted her. "Before you 
 tell me," he said, "any single thing of any kind, let me 
 tell you something first." 
 
 She shrugged her shoulders. "Very well," she said; 
 "tell away, then." 
 
 "I know," said Sir Rawlin, looking her quietly in the 
 face, "what you assume my conduct to have been. I 
 won't quarrel with you for your assumptions. I will 
 content myself with showing you that they are wrong. 
 Listen: you found me sitting about a yard away from 
 my companion a safe distance, as you will admit. 
 Since we entered that place and were alone together I 
 had not been an inch, or a fraction of an inch, nearer to 
 her. Also I had uttered to her one single observation 
 only, which was to the effect that I hoped she had en- 
 joyed her evening. The condition in which you found 
 her I was quite unaware of it myself, and it can but 
 have lasted for a minute or two naturally makes you 
 suspicious. Let me tell you something of which you 
 cannot possibly be aware. Miss Vivian, ever since a 
 serious illness, has suffered from some disorder of the 
 nerves. I and Lord Cotswold found her some weeks ago 
 sitting with her cousin, Miss Arundel, on one of the pub- 
 lic benches in a state much the same as that in which she 
 was just now. The cause on that occasion was walking 
 too fast uphill. She did not appear to be asleep; but 
 I spoke to her, and she did not recognize me, and a few 
 days afterward she had no recollection of the incident. 
 If you doubt me you can ask her cousin, her aunt, her 
 doctor. You need, therefore " he went on, but Lady 
 Conway stopped him. 
 
 "Come," she said, "I won't ask you for references. 
 Men lie so often that I know when they don't by con- 
 
 122
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 trast. Indeed, I must admit that, when I put my 
 precious burden into her carriage, and saw that she look- 
 ed disappointed rather than discomposed, I began to 
 wonder whether I might not be less right than I usually 
 am. Have some whiskey and soda-water to show that 
 there's no ill-feeling, and also to keep your courage up, 
 for I haven't done with you yet. Indeed, I may tell 
 you candidly that I've only just begun. If Frederick 
 is scandalized we must sacrifice his salvation to yours. 
 And now, how can I manage to make myself most odious ?" 
 
 Lady Conway seemed to be struggling with conscien- 
 tious and unwonted pains for the highest foothold avail- 
 able on the Sinai of serious morals. At last she found 
 it in the shape of a great general principle, enunciating 
 it with the modesty of one who is merely laying stress on 
 a truism. 
 
 " Married women," began the preacher, " are, of course, 
 all fair game." Her sermon having been once started, 
 the rest became much easier. " But," she went on, 
 trenchantly, "with unmarried girls it's different. Not 
 being a girl myself, I can afford to take strict views for 
 them. In love as in war, hit those of your own size. 
 Now one thing, my dear man, is just as plain as a pike- 
 staff : girls even girls with nerves don't faint for 
 nothing; and, though I'll admit most handsomely that 
 you no more thought of touching her than you would 
 have done had she been the Ark of the Covenant, she 
 would never have been in the state in which she was if 
 it hadn't been how shall I put it? To make a long 
 story short and you ought to know that yourself 
 she's head over ears in love with you, or she will be if 
 you don't prevent it. I saw it the other day when she 
 was looking at those drawings of yours. Now this 
 for you're not, at your age, going to take a bride from 
 the school-room would, if things came to a crisis, put 
 you in an absurd position. I'm speaking of yourself 
 only. I shall say nothing more of her. Don't you, in 
 all sober cynicism, think as much yourself?" 
 o 123
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 " Yes," said Sir Rawlin, rather grudgingly, " supposing 
 you to be right, I do." 
 
 " Boys," said Lady Conway, " can do anything without 
 making themselves ridiculous, just as a child or a cat, 
 without so much as shaking itself, can have a tumble 
 which would, if we had it, make us cripples for life; and 
 the most ridiculous thing which a mature man like you, 
 so far as regards himself, can do to any woman is to raise 
 expectations in her which he is not prepared to satisfy. 
 We know this from the immortal Joseph ; and it's doubly 
 true when the woman in question is a girl. It would, 
 indeed, be a delightful thing for our distinguished Con- 
 servative candidate to add to his other credentials the 
 reputation in Southquay circles of breaking the heart 
 of a chit hardly out of her short frocks, and restoring her 
 to a condition of hysterics from which she had just es- 
 caped. Of course, I'm exaggerating. The young lady 
 is very much grown up. I don't want to frighten you. 
 I want to prepare you for the consolations of reason. 
 Love, with a girl like this, is very much like a cold: it's 
 easily cured if the cure is applied in time. Now, the 
 question is, what's to be the cure in your case ? As you 
 can't go away like JEneas for that's out of the question 
 whatever you do, don't pull her up short. That would 
 precipitate a crisis, which is just what you want to avoid. 
 See her as much as you please. Take a deeper and 
 deeper interest in her. That, I suppose, is the way in 
 which you would wish me to express myself. But 
 listen now, for I'm going to confide to you a patent pre- 
 scription of my own let the interest be of a kind which 
 will gradually make her think you a bore. For example, 
 she's coming to this fte to-morrow. As soon as your 
 speech is over, take her to all the side-shows. Treat her 
 as if she were an ordinary child. There's one hint; and 
 here is a very much better one: I've just had a letter 
 from my dear old friend Dr. Thistlewood, telling me that 
 he's here and has consented to give a lecture at some 
 local scientific institute. Insist on her going to that; 
 
 124
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 talk to her about it afterward; and never use a word, if 
 you can help it, of less than thirteen syllables. When 
 you're not treating her as a child, treat her as if you 
 hoped that some day she'd be the mistress of a high- 
 school. I doubt if the profoundest passion in the heart 
 of sweet seventeen would survive for many weeks a 
 really high-minded devotion such as that. I find, when 
 I look into your case, that your ways of salvation mul- 
 tiply. And now, good-night. Frederick shall be tried 
 no longer. The devil's quotations from Scripture must, 
 if necessary, be continued in our next."
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 'T'HAT same night, as the late train from London 
 1 was slackening its pace among the outlying hills 
 of Southquay, a man in a second-class carriage was 
 standing bolt-upright, in order to spell out a letter by 
 the lamp that burned above him. He was dressed in 
 black, he was tall, and a cord was round his low-crowned 
 hat. This man was Mr. Barton, released at last from the 
 duties which for the past fortnight had been engrossing 
 him. The letter was from Lady Susannah. It had only 
 reached him that morning, and the larger part of it was 
 taken up with a request that, as he was staying at the 
 house of his order in Westminster, he would do some- 
 thing or other for her at the Army and Navy Stores. 
 Now, however, on rereading it, he had perceived for the 
 first time that over the page there was a postscript, and this 
 it was that absorbed him at the present moment. With 
 some difficulty he was spelling out the following words : 
 
 " You will be glad to hear that Nest, since you went away, 
 has been very much better enjoying, amusing, and interesting 
 herself just as we wished she should do. We have often seen 
 Sir Rawlin, who has really been very kind, taking her and Hugo 
 to the golf-course. She is going with us all to the Constitutional 
 Fete to hear him make his opening speech; and to-morrow my 
 cousin, George Carlton, is taking her to the Mid-Lent ball, where 
 he and Lady Conway will be sure to get a few partners for her." 
 
 Mr. Barton, with a sigh, thrust the letter into his 
 pocket. "A ball!" he murmured to himself. "I had 
 never looked forward to that. And this Lady Conway 
 Lady Conway what has she to do with the matter?" 
 
 The road from Southquay station to the town runs 
 
 126
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 along a curve of shore, and clusters of house-clad hills, 
 with all their constellated lights, were framed by the 
 window of his closed fly as he peered through it. The 
 lights generally lay sparse on the darkness of the noc- 
 turnal gardens, but out on a spur of rock the Bath 
 Saloons were blazing, and were sending shining streaks 
 into the glass of the intervening waters. Mr. Barton's 
 own way would take him close to this group of buildings. 
 The road at that point was steep, and, as his vehicle was 
 slowly laboring up it, he told the driver to drop him, 
 saying that he would follow on foot. 
 
 He stood for some minutes motionless on the blanched 
 pavement, and stared at the buildings opposite him, 
 from which snatches of music issued. He was not a man 
 whom his asceticism with regard to himself had ever 
 rendered censorious with regard to the amusements of 
 others. He had, though he had never attended balls 
 personally, been accustomed to accept them as incidents 
 of ordinary social intercourse ; but now his solicitude for 
 one particular soul caused him to regard them with a 
 pang of desolating jealousy, as though everything most 
 remote from the welfare of souls were incarnate in them. 
 At last he was roused by the sound of a policeman's 
 tread, and, aching with a vague disquiet, he unwillingly 
 moved away. 
 
 When he reached his own house, where he forced him- 
 self to eat a mouthful or two, his mind was still in the 
 same state of tension. Restlessly pacing to and fro in 
 his library, he fixed his eyes on the heads of his Italian 
 saints images of spiritual passion which were hung 
 by wires against his book-shelves; and the expression 
 of each face, as he contemplated it, seemed to repeat it- 
 self in his own. Then, carrying his one light with him, 
 he betook himself to the smaller room into which his 
 library opened, and there, having paused in front of the 
 bare oak table, which, as Sir Rawlin had noticed, was 
 evidently employed as a prie-dieu, he sank down, kneel- 
 ing on the stool which stood before it. 
 
 127
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 Prayer, as commonly understood, is the preferring of 
 some definite supplication, or, perhaps, some definite act 
 of confession and devout resolve. With men like Mr. 
 Barton it is a prolonged spiritual drama, more real in its 
 opulent adventures than anything that is called reality. 
 Before his eyes at first there was only an unfathomed 
 darkness; but he knew the ways of that night, his in- 
 ward gaze was patient with it, and gradually in its un- 
 charted depth a something began to flicker. It was 
 vague when it first showed itself, but quickly grew more 
 distinct, till it turned into a face like a cameo, pale 
 against its dark matrix, but it differed from a cameo in 
 exhibiting the texture and the tints of life. Its eyes, as 
 he scanned their depths, seemed to know and to seek 
 him, and to penetrate him with their responding gaze. 
 He saw in them that sorrowful knowledge of all human 
 sorrows with which a remote Omniscience has enriched 
 itself by stooping to man's experience. The longer he 
 looked and he now lost count of time the expression 
 of his face grew deeper, as though all these sorrows ac- 
 cumulated were fulfilling themselves at the same mo- 
 ment in a single forlorn heart. Mr. Barton's own heart 
 seemed to him to leap forward, and to adore and also to 
 expostulate with the condescension of the Divine Suffer- 
 er; and at last the assaults of his love, as his spiritual 
 teachers would have called them, began to work their 
 wonder. They began to produce a transformation in 
 the aspect of the Lord Himself. The agonized face 
 softened into a sort of semi-obscurity. Then it began 
 to reform itself, and as it reformed itself it was changed. 
 The Christ of history, with His spasm of earthly life, 
 had given place to the Christ that is beyond time, to the 
 Reason eternal by which all the worlds exist, to the 
 eternal and delectable Beauty which is the Bridegroom 
 of the spousal soul. Just as the eyes at first had been 
 the eyes of all sorrows, they were now the eyes of that 
 Love, out-passioning passion, which, for those who di- 
 rectly experience it will, as all the saints declare, so fill 
 
 128
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 the soul with beatitude that sorrow has no room left 
 for it. 
 
 Mr. Barton felt as if his whole being were taking wings, 
 and, like "the little lonely dove," as St. Francis de Sales 
 calls the enraptured spirit, were about to mount to the 
 bosom of the celestial Loveliness. But something held 
 him back, and he heard a voice saying to him: " I am 
 ready for you, Theophilus. What keeps you from me ?" 
 Mr. Barton's head sank lower. "Lord," he heard him- 
 self answer, " do Thou read my thoughts ; or let me speak 
 them to myself on this wise, and Thou shalt hear me. 
 The Shepherd who gave His life for the sheep of all His 
 folds carried one lamb on His shoulders. One disciple 
 was distinguished among all the rest as the beloved one. 
 If one of the Master's disciples, a humble shepherd him- 
 self, were to come into his Master's presence bearing a 
 lamb likewise a lamb who might have else been lost 
 would the Master say to him, ' Depart and come not near 
 me, because thou hast been overheedful of that which 
 is not I' ? Lord, even to myself I dare to breathe no 
 more." Having said this, he felt himself transformed 
 into one act of listening, his suspense being that of a 
 man whose neck is beneath the guillotine ; and by-and- 
 by it seemed to him that the divine voice answered: " My 
 son, do not fear to look at Me. As thou art present in 
 My heart, so let her be in thine. Bring thy lamb to Me 
 that she may be in My heart also."
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 MR.. BARTON was in many ways a very sensible 
 man. However high he might lift himself above 
 the levels of ordinary existence, he felt, when he came 
 down to them, no false shame or difficulty in resuming 
 the moods and judgments proper to life's daily business. 
 Accordingly, when he awoke next morning, his solici- 
 tude with regard to Miss Vivian, although it was undimin- 
 ished, assumed a more practical character. He recol- 
 lected that she would in the afternoon be present at the 
 political fete, and he resolved to attend this himself, 
 in the hopes, not merely of meeting her, but also of ob- 
 serving her demeanor especially, so he caught himself 
 thinking, her demeanor toward Sir Rawlin Stantor. 
 
 By three o'clock, the hour at which the fete opened, 
 the Bath Saloons had transfigured themselves. The great 
 ball-room was hung with flags and patriotic mottoes. 
 Here, at half-past three, Sir Rawlin and others were to 
 speak; and then, when the speaking was over, sight- 
 seeing, gayety, refreshments, and all kinds of music were 
 to give wings to the moments till eleven o'clock at night. 
 In one of the smaller rooms Punch would delight the 
 young. In another, a lady mesmerist would mingle mirth 
 with mystery. In another, penny portraits would be 
 taken by magnesium light. Flowers and vegetables 
 would be exhibited in the winter-garden. 
 
 When the party from Cliff's End arrived and were 
 provided by a steward with chairs in the front row, the 
 speakers were already on the platform, flanked or backed 
 by rows of influential or ornamental personages. Among 
 these Lady Conway, in sables, held a foremost place, her
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 face calm with a sort of disdainful assurance, which made 
 the failure of any cause associated with herself seem 
 incredible. 
 
 "Yours," she said to Sir Rawlin, when the oratorical 
 performances were over, "was a capital speech a 
 magnificent speech. I hope you've not forgotten mine. 
 Wait for a moment, and I'll deliver it over again to you. 
 There is Miss Nest. Come here, my dear. Where did 
 you get that hat ? Let me look at you. You've quite 
 recovered, I see. Well, I took you away last night from 
 a very great deal of wisdom; and now Sir Rawlin has 
 been giving you such a large additional dose of it that 
 you haven't he's afraid, and so am I taken in more 
 than half. He's particularly anxious to explain to you 
 what he meant about popular education, and if that is 
 too frivolous a subject for you he'll take you to ' Punch 
 and Judy.' ' 
 
 Half an hour afterward a man with anxious eyes, who 
 had been making his way through the crowd, which by 
 this time was in general motion, had suddenly pushed 
 himself forward in the direction of a tall lady. Close 
 to the tall lady was a small and very neat gentleman 
 who, whenever those about him collided with his im- 
 maculate garments, was making resigned grimaces, as 
 though he were bathing in a sea too rough for him. 
 
 "My dear fellow," said Mr. Carlton, "it is really too 
 nice to see you again. Susie, Mr. Barton is speaking to 
 you." 
 
 Mr. Barton's face was now all smiles and friendliness. 
 Information and questions flowed from him, and at last 
 he expressed a hope that Miss Vivian was feeling none the 
 worse for her ball. 
 
 "No," said Lady Susannah, "she was here a minute 
 ago. She was with Sir Rawlin Stantor; but really in a 
 crowd like this there's no keeping together." 
 
 "Indeed there is not," said Mr. Barton, who with 
 very considerable skill, was allowing three young women 
 clutching one another by the hand to thrust him back
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 into independence. In another moment Lady Susannah 
 was lost, and Mr. Barton's eyes were searching again for 
 the object which alone interested him. But everywhere 
 he looked in vain for it. It seemed to be eluding him 
 like an object pursued in dreams. 
 
 Sir Rawlin, meanwhile, with a sufficiently good grace, 
 had been following Lady Conway's policy, the wisdom 
 of which he recognized, although he resented its necessity ; 
 and he found it in practice both easier and more pleasant 
 than he had anticipated. He had let himself down to 
 the level of mere good-fellowship, and his young com- 
 panion had thus far appeared to desire no more. Noth- 
 ing, indeed, had troubled them but a growing conscious- 
 ness of the crowd. They would otherwise have actually 
 entered the room where Punch was squeaking. This, 
 however, as they saw at the door, was packed; but an- 
 other door, not far from it, allured them by its agreeable 
 contrast. Here, as a card announced, admission was 
 one shilling, and the persons who entered were few and 
 far between. Across the door were the words: " Madame 
 Levy, the Renowned Mesmerist." 
 
 "Come," said Miss Vivian, "do let us go in here. I 
 see Cousin George in the distance. We will vanish 
 before he catches us." 
 
 Their shillings, at all events, procured them sufficient 
 quiet. The room was large, and there were but fifty 
 people in it. Sir Rawlin and Miss Vivian seated them- 
 selves on one of the back benches. Madame Levy, a 
 lady with black and apparently rather humid hair, was 
 finishing a discourse about will-currents and vital fluids, 
 and then invited any one the more sceptical he might 
 be, the better to mount the platform and put her 
 powers to the test. 
 
 " I can't do every one," she said, "but if you find me 
 fail with some my success with others will be all the 
 more remarkable. I should like to begin with a gentle- 
 man who disbelieves in me a gentleman with a great, 
 strong will who will resist my influence. What! How 
 
 132
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 is this? Is there no gentleman with a will so strong 
 that he is not afraid to try me?" 
 
 This appeal elicited a gentleman of Wesleyan appear- 
 ance, who mounted the platform like a saint defying an 
 imitation Satan. He submitted himself gallantly to 
 Madame Levy's requirements, and five minutes later he 
 was dancing a clumsy hornpipe, his lips grinning and his 
 frock-coat on the ground. The shouts of merriment 
 which greeted his return to consciousness alone made 
 him suspect that he had not merely closed his eyes. 
 Other voluntary victims most of them young men 
 succeeded him, and most of them with like results. 
 One of them smoked a pencil; another rocked a chair, 
 tenderly watching a hat on it, as though it were a baby 
 in a cradle; and another, like a baby himself, went 
 crawling on all-fours. 
 
 "Do you think," said Miss Vivian, unable to forbear 
 from laughing, " that all this is really genuine, or are 
 these people her accomplices?" 
 
 "No, no," said Sir Rawlin. "It's genuine enough in 
 its way. The old gentleman who went up first is one of 
 my own supporters." 
 
 "Then," said Miss Vivian, with a slight grimace, " I'm 
 not sure that I like it. It makes one laugh, of course, 
 but, after all, it's rather degrading." 
 
 " That young lady is right," said a man's voice behind 
 her a voice whose quiet authority had something 
 slightly foreign in its emphasis. At the same moment 
 Sir Rawlin felt a hand on his shoulder, and both of them, 
 turning round, were aware of the presence of Lord Cots- 
 wold, and also of some one who was standing by him 
 the solitary watcher of the pier. 
 
 "And so," said Lord Cotswold to Miss Vivian, "you 
 won't wait for our mysteries. You are studying the 
 black art for yourself. Rawlin, let me introduce you to 
 Dr. Thistle wood. My dear fellow, we were late for your 
 speech. They tell me it was quite magnificent. My 
 distinguished friend here was very anxious to hear you."
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 He looked toward the place where Dr. Thistlewood 
 had just been standing, but Dr. Thistlewood was there 
 no longer. Without waiting for an introduction, he had 
 slipped into a chair next Miss Vivian, and was saying 
 to her: 
 
 " I was delighted with your criticism. A show like 
 this is an insult to human nature." 
 
 His manner was the manner of a man familiar with 
 all societies and accustomed to be a personage in all. 
 It was especially that of a man accustomed to deal with 
 women, though there was in it no trace of any amatory 
 or sentimental enterprise. His eyes, as he fixed them 
 on Miss Vivian's, gave her the impression that he was 
 looking through her, as through a telescope, at some- 
 thing else beyond. 
 
 " Yes," he went on, in a tone of pleasant and respect- 
 ful intimacy, " a show like this degrades " She thought 
 he was going to say "its victims." He did not. "De- 
 grades," he said, "in the popular mind, the commonest 
 facts of science into a trick, or, still worse, into a miracle. 
 It would be just as rational to give a man an emetic in 
 public, and invite spectators either to giggle or to gape 
 at the effects of it. Experiments of this kind are, 
 in particular cases, sometimes necessary as tests. The 
 other day I was testing the accuracy with which an hys- 
 terical woman, a housemaid, carried out unlikely in- 
 structions given her when in a state of hypnosis. I am 
 not, I think, wrong in supposing you to be the young 
 lady who told Lord Cotswold that she had seen me 
 watching a ghost. Perhaps you think as half the peo- 
 ple in this room do that what is often still called mes- 
 merism has something to do with spirits." 
 
 Miss Vivian responded in a tone of not disrespectful 
 flippancy. "You don't, then," she said, "believe in 
 spiritualism? I was rather fancying that you did." 
 
 Dr. Thistlewood laughed. "Naturalism," he an- 
 swered, " if you know what I mean by the word, is far 
 fuller of wonders than what these savages of to-day call
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 spiritualism. The first experimenter who ever got an 
 electric shock could only suppose that it was produced 
 by a devil who had hidden himself in a bottle. The 
 spiritualists of to-day reason just as he did. My dear 
 Miss Vivian for that, I'm sure, is your name every- 
 thing is spiritual, or nothing is. Nothing is a miracle, 
 or else everything." 
 
 Dr. Thistlewood was beginning to interest her. At 
 the same time his words and manner produced in her an 
 obscure uneasiness. 
 
 "Now," she said, determining not to be discomposed, 
 "you are taking me out of my depth; but in one thing 
 at least I may agree with you without presumption. 
 The idiotic young lady who watched you was myself and 
 nobody else. I'm glad, for her own sake, that she 
 caught you at nothing wrong, or you might be giving 
 her some aqua-Toffana, to rid yourself of a disagreeable 
 witness." 
 
 " Ah, Lord Cotswold after all those years Lord 
 Cotswold!" said a well-known voice Mr. Carlton's 
 voice behind her, " it's a century since we met. Fancy 
 finding you here! I do hope this distressing nonsense 
 is over so superstitious and vulgar. Ah, here come 
 all the family in search of the lost lamb. Susie, she's 
 here. Don't let them make you pay. Happily, there's 
 nothing to pay for. Come in, Mr. Barton; drive the 
 spirits away, if they haven't all gone already. And look 
 here, Susie why, this is quite a reunion Lord Cots- 
 wold, I think you must have met her. He won't ask 
 when, for fear it should have been in the year one. This 
 is my cousin, Lady Susannah Lipscombe." 
 
 Mr. Carlton, while he spoke, had, with a courtly 
 though nervous amity, placed one hand on the astrakhan 
 of Lord Cotswold' s cuff and another on the limp silk of 
 Lady Susannah's, and drew the two parties together as 
 if he proposed to marry them. He was gratified by the 
 success of his diplomacy. Lady Susannah succumbed 
 at once to the magic of Lord Cotswold' s manner a man- 
 
 135
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 ner which seemed to render all past misdemeanors fab- 
 ulous and was presently so far committing herself as to 
 comment on the indisputable fact that he and she were 
 almost next-door neighbors. 
 
 Mr. Barton meanwhile had been looking about him 
 curiously now at the mesmerist on the platform, whose 
 performances for the time were over ; now at Lord Cots- 
 wold and Dr. Thistlewood, wondering who they were. 
 Dr. Thistlewood, in particular, with the careless self- 
 confidence of his bearing, excited his close attention. 
 That Miss Vivian should be so engrossed in the conver- 
 sation of this striking stranger was not in itself pleasing 
 to him. But that a stranger should be able to entertain 
 her as well as, or even better than, Sir Rawlin, did much 
 to relieve his mind; and while waiting to approach her, 
 as he was now impatient to do, he found that he was 
 able to greet Sir Rawlin himself, not, indeed, very 
 effusively, but with a reserve that was not obtrusive. 
 
 "I hear," he said, "that you've completed a remark- 
 able sale of property." 
 
 "Yes," said Sir Rawlin, without a sign of embarrass- 
 ment. " I hope I shall have been the means of giving 
 you some very interesting neighbors. They are Bene- 
 dictines, and they will, unless I am misinformed, bring 
 with them a library second only to that of the Vatican." 
 
 For a single moment Mr. Barton's eyes sparkled; but 
 before he had time for any answer other than a sarcastic 
 cough, the affairs of the group were thrown into some 
 confusion by a rustle of expensive materials and a new 
 voice that accompanied it. 
 
 " Now, where is the man of all men whom I most wish 
 to see?" The words were Lady Conway's. "Ah, there 
 the traitor is! My dear child," she went on, coming up 
 to Miss Vivian, " you happily don't want a doctor, even 
 after last night. I do. I bought a villa at Naples mere- 
 ly to be near this one, and before my carpets are down 
 the abominable creature goes." 
 
 Miss Vivian, though she looked at Lady Conway with 
 136
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 eyes of somewhat doubtful friendship, showed no in- 
 clination to stand in her way now. She rose at once, 
 and Mr. Barton was at once beside her. To his in- 
 finite delight she met him with her old cordiality, and 
 instinctively moved away with him to a spot where 
 their words would be unheard by others. He told her 
 that during his absence he had wished to write to her 
 about many things, and that she and her welfare had 
 never been out of his mind, which observations, hurried 
 and subdued as they were, were received by her with 
 a comprehending acknowledgment almost beyond his 
 hopes. She, at all events, was not lost to him, and the 
 bitterest of his anxieties being thus more or less at an 
 end, he began to assume something of his old position 
 as her adviser. 
 
 "And so," he said, "I hear you were last night at a 
 ball. I confess that, when we talked about a little social 
 amusement for you, I was hardly thinking about balls, 
 and still less was I thinking about exhibitions of such 
 idle quackery as mesmerism." 
 
 "I agree with you," replied Miss Vivian, "as I was 
 just now saying to Sir Rawlin, that this exhibition is 
 very stupid. But mesmerism, after all, isn't mere non- 
 sense like spiritualism. It's merely a kind of doctoring 
 done on a public stage." 
 
 "Pardon me," returned Mr. Barton. "You have got 
 the case upside down. The phenomena of spiritualism, 
 though in most cases they are fraudulent, are undoubt- 
 edly sometimes genuine, and are, as the Church recog- 
 nizes, the work of evil spirits or spirits, to say the 
 least of it, with whom Christians have no license to trifle. 
 But this mesmerism is quackery pure and simple. It's 
 curious how people who won't believe in God are the 
 first people to believe in imaginary and as they call 
 them occult powers of the body or the human will. 
 Who, by-the-way, brought you here that man whom 
 I saw you talking to?" 
 
 "Do you mean," said Miss Vivian, answering one 
 
 137
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 question with another " do you mean Dr. Thistlewood 
 the man of whom Lady Conway has so very complete- 
 ly possessed herself?" 
 
 "Dr. Thistlewood!" echoed Mr. Barton. "Can that 
 man be Dr. Thistlewood ? And do you mean to tell me 
 that you yourself have been making his acquaintance? 
 Yes, it undoubtedly must be. I recognize him from his 
 pictures in the newspapers. Do you know who Dr. 
 Thistlewood is? One of the most notorious sceptics in 
 Europe, and, I can well believe, one of the most super- 
 stitious also. And is that Lady Conway the woman 
 whom one always reads about ? How has all this hap- 
 pened? How do you come to be knowing people like 
 these? And the other man, with a fur collar, who re- 
 minds me of a mediaeval wizard they all three seem 
 very intimate is he, may I ask, one of your new ac- 
 quaintances also?" 
 
 "Oh," said Miss Vivian, looking over her shoulder, 
 "I suppose you must mean Lord Cotswold." 
 
 "Lord Cotswold!" exclaimed Mr. Barton. "This is 
 better and better. You remember what was said about 
 Lord Cotswold at your aunt's table the other day. I 
 congratulate you on your company. Do you owe it to 
 your friend, Sir Rawlin? Alas," he said, shrugging his 
 shoulders and taking out his watch, " I must go. I've 
 a service at half-past five. My dear child," he said, re- 
 suming his natural manner, " if all this dissipation is not 
 distracting your thoughts too much, I ought to come 
 very soon and begin our talks about confirmation. Will 
 you or your aunt write me a line and let me know when 
 to call on you to-morrow, perhaps, or the day after?" 
 
 "Sir Rawlin," said Lady Conway, "come here. I 
 want to have a word with you in private. Dr. Thistle- 
 wood's lecture is to be on Friday. There won't be a 
 word in it under thirteen syllables. Insist on your young 
 lady being brought to that. You can arrange about it 
 with the family now. She doesn't like me the young 
 lady doesn't. That's because I'm doing her good." 
 
 138
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 The party were here informed by a very apologetic at- 
 tendant that the room was about to be cleared, prepara- 
 tory to another stance. They were, indeed, by this time 
 the only members of the public left. 
 
 "Good Heavens!" said Lady Conway. "Let us fly! 
 Nobody shall mesmerize me!"
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 THE fevered apprehension into which, on his return 
 last night, Mr. Barton had worked himself as he 
 contemplated the ball-room windows had indeed been 
 assuaged by Miss Vivian the moment he actually met 
 her again. But now, when, having left her, he thought 
 of her new associates, their aspect, their reputed char- 
 acter, and the easy manner in which she had herself 
 mentioned them, his previous trouble reasserted itself 
 in a less acute but in a more pervasive form. It was the 
 same trouble that had assailed him at Lady Susannah's 
 luncheon-party, when he first realized the possibility of 
 the girl's nature being swayed by influences other than 
 those which for him were alone sacred. It was the 
 jealousy of a new atmosphere. 
 
 Such was his state of mind when, making his way 
 toward his church, he found himself passing the doors of 
 the Southquay museum buildings, one of whose halls 
 was used for scientific and other lectures. Lists of the 
 subjects now in course of being dealt with were displayed 
 in striking type on placards which flanked the door. 
 Most of these were familiar objects, having been there 
 for half the winter; but Mr. Barton's eyes this afternoon 
 were caught by a new announcement, which eclipsed the 
 others by its freshness and the size of its bold lettering 
 an announcement of a lecture entitled "The New Psy- 
 chology," the lecturer being none other than the objec- 
 tionable Dr. Gustav Thistlewood. Mr. Barton stopped 
 short and stared at it. 
 
 Science, as the foe of religion, was, in Mr. Barton's 
 opinion, operative mainly among vicious and ill-educated 
 
 140
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 artisans. It was, however, notorious that what occurred 
 in this lower social stratum was not without its lament- 
 able counterpart in a certain section of the highest, 
 where materialism was made an excuse for every species 
 of refined licence; and the insidious influences which 
 a society of this kind might exercise seemed to him 
 typified by the grandiose polish of Lord Cots wold, by 
 the subdued self-confidence of Dr. Thistlewood, and 
 by the very smell of Lady Conway's furs. This young 
 soul, which had been committed to his special keeping, 
 required that he should mount guard over it more closely 
 than ever. 
 
 Mr. Barton contemplated the placard with a slight 
 ironical laugh. Dr. Thistlewood had doubtless, in some 
 cases, shown himself a successful healer. But that a man 
 should think himself qualified, because he understood 
 pills, to give his opinion on the workings of the living 
 human mind, was, in Mr. Barton's estimation, com- 
 parable to the claim of a cobbler to direct the armies of 
 his country because he supplied their boots. The folly 
 of such men was truly as great as their wickedness ; but 
 yet, when he reflected on how this typical pretender 
 was being presented as an oracle to the imagination of 
 a super-sensitive girl, anger got the better of contempt 
 and anxiety got the better of both. He would see her 
 again in private, and at the earliest moment possible. 
 
 As for Miss Vivian herself, Lady Conway, could she 
 have looked inside her, would have smiled to see that 
 the treatment which her own wisdom had suggested 
 showed some slight signs already of producing its de- 
 signed result. The girl had awoke that morning from 
 a long series of dreams, in which something constantly 
 sought for had been forever eluding her, to find herself 
 in a state of languid though not wholly unpleasing melan- 
 choly, till her subsequent adventures at the fete gave a 
 new aspect to everything. There each moment of sight- 
 seeing had filled her with a delightful gayety. Even the 
 proposal which Sir Rawlin did not fail to make, that 
 
 141
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 they should go to Dr. Thistle wood's lecture, and which 
 Lady Susannah had assented to, holding that a taste for 
 lectures was a sign of steadiness in the young, came to 
 her as a prospect of present happiness repeating itself. 
 But as soon as the afternoon was over she felt that there 
 had been a want somewhere. Her companion, instead 
 of coming with her to the step of her aunt's carriage, 
 had bidden her a hasty though doubtless a very friendly 
 adieu, and allowed himself to be carried off by Lady 
 Conway to the offices of the Conservative Association. 
 She had been gay in his company; that fact remained. 
 But was gayety all she sought for? Was gayety alone 
 everything ? 
 
 That night in her sitting-room, to which she retreated 
 early, she sank as if quite exhausted into a low chair 
 by her fireside, and took from a table close to her a 
 small, thin, oblong book. It was Mr. Barton's Secret 
 Way, whose pages were by this time liberally scored with 
 pencil-marks. She turned these languidly till she came 
 to the following passage: 
 
 " Even the material world which so-called science studies has 
 for both it and the soul were made by the same God anal- 
 ogies in itself by which the world of the spirit is illuminated. 
 Such science, for example, tells us this that there is no desire 
 implanted in any living creature which does not indicate the 
 existence somewhere of that wherewithal it shall be satisfied. 
 Thus, for bodies numbed with cold there is the warmth of sun 
 and fire. For tired muscles and heavy eyes there is sleep. In 
 the hunger of a lamb is a witness to the growing of the green 
 pastures. With respect, indeed, to any bodily want or desire 
 whatever, the actual existence of its true corresponding object 
 may, even before we have imagined it, be inferred from the 
 desire itself just as, to take another analogy supplied, not by 
 living but by mere brute, lifeless matter, from the movements 
 of a planet seen is inferred the existence of a planet unseen, which 
 influences them. So it is with the soul. If thy soul desire some- 
 thing which it has not yet found, know thou that somewhere 
 this thing desired exists; and if, believing that thou hast found 
 it, thou wouldst know whether thou hast found it truly, examine 
 thy heart afresh and ask whether thy heart is satisfied." 
 
 142
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 Next morning a letter reached her the masculine writ- 
 ing on whose envelope she saw for the first time. Her 
 heart beat with pleasure and then stood still with 
 doubt. The letter was very short, amounting to no 
 more than this: 
 
 " I shall be very busy up to the time of Dr. Thistlewood's lect- 
 ure, but hope we shall meet then. Don't forget to come. The 
 subject sounds dry, but I think that the watcher of the pier 
 will make it interesting to both of us. I am, meanwhile, your 
 friend who wishes the best for you. 
 
 " RAWLIN STANTOR." 
 
 The reception of this letter caused her to write an- 
 other, almost as brief, and addressed to a different per- 
 son. A servant was instructed to take it to the Rev- 
 erend Theophilus Barton. It ran: 
 
 "DEAR MR. BARTON, You kindly said you would come and 
 talk to me either to-morrow or else to-day. Will you come to- 
 day? To-day nobody wants me, so name any hour you like. 
 It will be nice to see you quietly once more and talk about what 
 really matters. You have always been very good to me. 
 
 "N. V." 
 
 Mr. Barton, as he read this, felt a thankfulness be- 
 yond the reach of words. In heart he had been already 
 with her, taking this tender life again under the pro- 
 tection of his maternal wings. 
 
 Lady Susannah had arranged, as she had done on 
 similar occasions previously, that he should, when he 
 arrived in the afternoon, be shown into her own boudoir, 
 her instincts telling her that this apartment, close to 
 the front door, was in itself a chaperon whose presence 
 was decorous, though of course it was unnecessary. 
 Here Mr. Barton found Miss Vivian awaiting him. Her 
 aspect shocked yet at the same time subtly pleased him. 
 Her cheeks were pale, and she rose with what seemed 
 an effort from a table at which, without much apparent 
 success, she was constraining herself to do her duty by 
 a bowl of soup with some bread in it.
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 " You're not to think," she said, laughing, " that these 
 are my usual habits. I've been told to eat this, for I 
 couldn't manage much luncheon." 
 
 Profoundly touched, he seated himself at a little dis- 
 tance from her, and said, simply and kindly: 
 
 "This is very, very sad. I fear you have overtired 
 yourself. Go on with your soup. I haven't come here 
 to scold you, but too many hours at balls don't you 
 think I am right ? are almost more exhausting than too 
 many hours in church." 
 
 The girl looked at him with a smile in which, gentle 
 as it was, there lurked a fugitive suggestion of worldli- 
 ness condescending to worldly ignorance. 
 
 "Dear Mr. Barton," she said, "you needn't preach 
 to me about balls. The ball did nothing to tire me. My 
 mind wants a tonic, I think, far more than my body." 
 
 "I can well believe that," he said, seating himself at 
 a little distance from her. " I have long been desiring 
 this time when we can begin our talks in earnest. Come, 
 shall we be methodical ? You must not look on me as a 
 pedant. The things which I must begin with saying to 
 you, you of course have heard before; but I want you to 
 consider them as a system." 
 
 And forthwith he set himself, in simple and lucid 
 language, to elucidate the position of the soul and of 
 human beings as a race, in the light which the Church, 
 with her revelation and her treasures of philosophy, 
 throws on it. The Church, he said, and the Church 
 alone, makes the object of our life, and even our exist- 
 ence, intelligible and reasonable things. We must, he 
 said, begin with ourselves. How did we come to exist ? 
 For we were not our own creators. We were created by 
 some other Power, and this Power, to say the least of it, 
 could not be less intelligent or less good than ourselves; 
 for the Lesser, as was self-evident, could not produce the 
 Greater. This axiom of the intellect was seconded by 
 the voice of conscience, which, by condemning our own 
 moral imperfections, told us that the Source of our 
 
 J44
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 being, or, in other words, God, was perfect. How, then, 
 were our own imperfections the war in our members 
 to be accounted for? The word of God informed us. 
 Our imperfections did not, and could not, come from 
 God Himself. We bore them as a burden inherited from 
 our first earthly parents. The spiritual history of man, 
 and the solution of all its problems, were comprised in 
 two documents the written Bible and the living ac- 
 tivity of the Church. The latter continued the process 
 which was revealed and recorded in the former, thus 
 linking together the earliest times with the latest. In 
 the first chapter of Genesis, with its account of the primal 
 tragedy, a complete foretelling of Christ and the Catholic 
 Church was latent. Then in the inspired history of the 
 chosen people and its woes we had the history of the 
 individual soul writ large. Here we saw its misery in 
 doing what it did not desire, there we saw its misery in 
 desiring what it could not get. Then, when Christ came, 
 and when His work was continued by the Church, we 
 saw how the divinity of both, quite apart from external 
 evidences, was attested by the marvellous fact that they 
 brought to the human heart those precise forms of help 
 and guidance the need of which, with increasing clear- 
 ness, it had been signalizing from the dawn of time. 
 This fact, Mr. Barton went on to say, was illustrated 
 most signally by the Church's sacramental system, which 
 touched life at every point, from the bed of birth to the 
 death-bed first through the dews of baptism, then 
 through the succor of confirmation, of which they would 
 speak hereafter ; then through that Second Advent which 
 took place at every good communion, when our Lord, 
 as it were, laid His head on the breasts of all who loved 
 Him; then through the Christian marriage that great 
 triumph over the Evil One which turned all that warred 
 against the Spirit into an embodied and life-long holiness ; 
 then through the sacraments of cleansing penance and 
 pardon; and, lastly, those which turned the death-bed 
 into a solemn bridal. 
 
 MS
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 The girl listened, absorbed; and although she was still 
 pensive, she seemed to be breathing the atmosphere of 
 some assuaging peace, Mr. Barton's face seeming to her 
 like a face in some far-off chancel. 
 
 "Well," said Mr. Barton, when at last he rose to go, 
 "when shall I come to see you again and speak about 
 confirmation in detail ? I have other sheep in my flock, 
 you know, to be talked to about the same subject. Shall 
 we say the day after to-morrow?" 
 
 " Yes," said the girl, her eyes soft with some ambiguous 
 gratitude. "I will expect you then. Good-bye." 
 
 The priest departed, taking with him as much peace 
 as he had brought; but this was ruffled next morning by 
 the following few words which were brought to him, 
 scrawled in pencil: 
 
 " Instead of to-morrow. Friday, do you think you could come 
 to-day? I had forgotten; but to-morrow we are going to Dr. 
 Thistlewood's lecture." 
 
 In spite of the other calls on him, Mr. Barton punct- 
 ually came. Pleased by the urgency of her summons, 
 the occasion of it roused in him an anxiety so harsh as 
 to be almost irritable, nor did the submissive warmth 
 of her welcome or her continued pallor disarm him. 
 
 "And so," he began, " I gather that you are going to 
 betake yourself to instructions very different from mine. 
 My dear child, if you haven't found what you want in 
 dancing-rooms, or in the tricks of a mesmerist, do you 
 think you will find it in a doctor's disquisition on psy- 
 chology? At its best, psychology is a dry and. for most 
 of us, a superfluous study. Any child can tell itself 
 more about the motions of its own mind than it could 
 learn from an army of psychological lecturers. Do you 
 know what psychology is? I can explain it to you in 
 half a dozen words. When you and I talk, the different 
 sounds we form depend on the different ways in which 
 the tongue touches the teeth, the roof of the mouth, 
 and so on; and wiseacres can tell us I dare say with 
 
 146
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 perfect truth what particular movements of the tongue 
 produce each particular sound. But for you and me, 
 and for human beings generally whatever may be the 
 case with the wiseacres the important thing is the 
 words and the sentences we utter, not the particular 
 gymnastics which the tongue performs in uttering them. 
 The science of psychology is to the operations of the 
 mind just what the science of articulation is to the use 
 of speech. It can tell us no more of the uses to which 
 our minds should be put than an account of the manner 
 in which our Blessed Lord used his tongue could bring 
 home to your soul or mine the meaning of the Sermon on 
 the Mount." 
 
 "I'm sure I don't know," said Miss Vivian, "and I 
 don't think I much care, what psychology is, but we're 
 all of us going, just to hear a famous man." 
 
 "Ah, well," said Mr. Barton, reassured by the indif- 
 ference of her manner, " the worst this precious lecture 
 can do for you will be to keep you out of the open air; 
 and this talk about psychology, new or old, about which 
 you will hear to-morrow from an expert in drugs and 
 doses, has not perhaps been very inappropriate after all. 
 The proper meaning of psychology is an accurate knowl- 
 edge of the soul; and our own subject differences being 
 duly allowed for involves, and indeed rests upon, a 
 sort of psychology of its own. So let us begin with that. 
 You'll find it all set out in the little manual I gave you, 
 or indeed in any other which does justice to the Church's 
 teaching." 
 
 Mr. Barton then set himself to explain questioning 
 his listener at intervals, to make sure that she followed 
 him that the whole meaning of confirmation depended 
 on a certain fact as to the constitution of the human 
 soul. This was the fact that, as the Church had always 
 taught, as Miss Vivian would learn from any other An- 
 glican priest, and as God had directly revealed to us, 
 speaking through the prophet Isaiah, the soul of man is 
 possessed of seven distinct faculties, which are essential 
 
 M7
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 to its spiritual life. The first man, Adam, possessed these 
 in full perfection. By his fall, though not extinguished, 
 they lost their strength, both in himself and in all de- 
 scended from him. The sacrament of confirmation gave, 
 he said, their pristine strength back to them. These 
 seven faculties which, when thus completely restored to 
 us, are called "the gifts of the Spirit," consist, Mr. Bar- 
 ton went on to say, of "Wisdom, Understanding, Counsel, 
 Knowledge, Spiritual Strength, Holy Fear, and Godli- 
 ness." Imagination, memory, human affection, the sense 
 of beauty, and so forth all the faculties, in short, 
 of which we are cognizant in ordinary life could, he 
 said, be applied to their proper purpose only when 
 guided and illuminated by these seven sacramental gifts. 
 He then proceeded to explain that these seven gifts of 
 the Spirit "We have another chapter," he observed, 
 "of Divine psychology here" caused to germinate in 
 the soul "the nine fruits of the Spirit," foremost among 
 which were Love and Joy and Peace. It was thus, he 
 said in conclusion, that the grace given in confirmation 
 enabled the whole inner being of man to complete itself, 
 and to reach even here to foretastes of its future perfect 
 union with Him in whom Love and Joy and Peace and 
 all Beauty are one. 
 
 This exposition, which was made with great logical 
 simplicity, occupied a considerable time, during most 
 of which Mr. Barton looked steadily at the green Brussels 
 carpet. It had been enough for him to feel that he was 
 one human soul directly urging the deepest of all truths 
 on another, which other, as the voice of his Lord had 
 told him, he might guide and cherish as though, in some 
 special sense, she were his own. He attempted neither 
 by voice nor glance to make his instructions the vehicle 
 of any common sentimentality. He was hardly, indeed, 
 conscious of himself. It was only when he came to his 
 summing up of the matter that his listener caught his 
 eyes, and saw them shining with exaltation, like the 
 windows of a far-off city. 
 
 148
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 " And now," he said, rising and standing with his back 
 to the fireplace, "I've finished my homily for to-day. 
 Well, dear child, I honestly believe that you have 
 understood me, and that you will ponder these things in 
 your heart. Yes, yes and I have one thing more to 
 add. Don't make too much of what I said about this 
 wonderful lecture. If the man's right, well and good. 
 If he's wrong, he won't bite us. Your own people are 
 going. By all means go also. Indeed, I may myself 
 look in for an hour or so, and hear the old bones rattled 
 again sensation, cognition, apperception whose sound 
 I used to hate at Cambridge. An apothecary in a meta- 
 physician's chair that will, at all events, be a novelty. 
 Do you object to the thought that I am doing what I 
 can to watch over you?" 
 
 "No, indeed," she answered. "On the contrary, I 
 am more than grateful."
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 THE interest excited in Southquay by Dr. Thistle- 
 wood's fame and personality was evidenced the 
 following afternoon by the large number of carriages 
 which were setting down their well-dressed occupants at 
 the doors of the museum buildings. Whereas on ordi- 
 nary occasions the fact of an impending lecture would 
 merely have been indicated by the furtive and inter- 
 mittent disappearance, through doors which stood half 
 open, of a few sadly clothed persons, like worshippers 
 who were entering a chapel unsuited to their social 
 status, silk skirts rustled in the entrance, servants stood 
 outside, and among the general stir a spruce-looking one- 
 horse brougham, the door of which was opened by a tall 
 footman in powder, emitted the persons of Lord Cots- 
 wold and the renowned lecturer himself. Then Lady 
 Conway drove up in a particularly shabby cab, as though 
 all the equipages which fell short of the splendor of her 
 own were the same for her. Mrs. Morriston Campbell 
 followed, swaying in a large barouche, and nearly fell 
 down, as she alighted, in her futile efforts to catch Lady 
 Conway's eye. All she could do was to follow in her 
 wake to the lecture-room, where Sir Rawlin and Lord 
 Cotswold were leaning against the wall, talking; while 
 Lady Susannah, Miss Arundel, and Miss Vivian were 
 already seated, waiting as if in church. 
 
 "Come," said Lady Conway to Sir Rawlin, "that's 
 your place, by the young lady. Don't forget my ad- 
 vice. Sit down, and explain the long words to her." 
 
 In accordance with custom, the lecturer was intro- 
 duced by a chairman, an old inhabitant of Southquay
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 and its intellectual patron. This gentleman, an octo- 
 genarian of vigorous and distinguished aspect, began 
 by reminding his hearers that Dr. Thistlewood was 
 known throughout Europe for certain dramatic inci- 
 dents in his career which were, indeed, matters of his- 
 tory and also by his success in certain public enter- 
 prises. Besides being the hero of the great Neapolitan 
 pestilence, he was the founder of what was now one of 
 the best-known health resorts in France, where treat- 
 ment was accorded to necessitous patients gratuitously; 
 but greater even than his achievements as a man of 
 healing, though not so generally understood, were his 
 achievements as a man of research. "Take, for in- 
 stance," said the chairman, pleasantly, "this science of 
 the mind, or psychology. When I was at Oxford, fifty- 
 five years ago, nothing could have been more dreary 
 and unprofitable. We were no wiser at the end than we 
 were at the beginning of our study of it. I see a rev- 
 erend contemporary of mine at the other end of the 
 room, and I'm sure he'll bear me out." At this there 
 was the inevitable laugh, and a turning of heads toward 
 a well-known and white-haired cleric, who nodded a 
 placid acquiescence. " But now," continued the chair- 
 man, " during the lifetime of the youngest of you you 
 young people have a great deal to be thankful for 
 we've changed all that, and Dr. Thistlewood is eminent 
 among those who have helped to change it. About the 
 nature of the change I will only presume to say one 
 thing. You'll find that he has made psychology a very 
 much nicer medicine. It used to be something like our 
 gray and our brown powders, the taste of which I re- 
 member still. But in telling you this I only represent 
 prophecy. I will not call upon my distinguished friend 
 here for its fulfilment." 
 
 Dr. Thistlewood rose, and a burst of applause greeted 
 him. 
 
 The chairman, he said, had relieved him of the most 
 difficult part of his business namely, the introduction
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 of it. What he was going to speak about was not so 
 much psychology generally as the differences which dis- 
 tinguish the new psychology from the old. Psychology, 
 as they all knew, meant the science of the mind and its 
 workings. But we only knew that we had minds be- 
 cause we were conscious, as selves, of having them. It 
 would, therefore, be better to define psychology as the 
 science of the living self. Now, how was this self to 
 be studied? Since we only know that we have selves 
 because consciousness tells us so, the most natural an- 
 swer to this question was that we must study self by 
 examining the facts of consciousness. This was the as- 
 sumption with which the old psychology started, and 
 with this assumption it ended. It sought for its facts 
 wholly within the limits of the conscious circle. The 
 new psychology differed essentially from the old be- 
 cause, though likewise taking these facts as its starting- 
 point, it had come to recognize that they did not stand 
 alone, but were merely some fraction of a very much 
 larger process, most of which lay beyond the limits of 
 the conscious self altogether. "For example," said Dr. 
 Thistle wood, "if we wanted to know why a man did 
 some particular thing, the old psychology assumed that 
 he need only honestly examine himself, and that then he 
 could, if he would, give us a complete answer. Here we 
 have the psychology of the confessional. The new psy- 
 chology recognizes that in the case it will be enough for 
 me here to say in the case of two-thirds of our actions 
 the most searching self-examination could no more ex- 
 plain their origin than a baby foundling could recount to 
 us the biography of its great-great-grandparents. Here 
 we have the fact which the old psychology overlooked. 
 It behaved as a man would who thought he could ex- 
 plain the England of to-day the trains in which he 
 travels, the electric light he reads by if everything were 
 a blank to him which lay beyond the memories of the 
 present generation. This error the new psychology 
 rectifies. It does not neglect the conscious or we may 
 
 152
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 call it the self-examinable but it shows that this is ex- 
 plicable only by connecting it with the unconscious." 
 
 Such generalities, said Dr. Thistlewood, were no doubt 
 rather dry. He would now enliven them with illustra- 
 tions. He would begin with the case of memory. If 
 we wished to make sure that a servant remembered some 
 order given him, our great endeavor would be to make 
 the man keenly conscious of it to dig it into him, as 
 we say. Memory, indeed, seemed to most people to be 
 an affair of consciousness or to be nothing. But the 
 new psychology told us a very different tale. It showed 
 us that facts might be remembered for half a lifetime 
 which had, at the time of their occurrence, never made 
 any entry into the domain of consciousness at all. He 
 proceeded to give a number of quaint and curious cases, 
 such as that of a Swiss woman a great heroine among 
 spiritualists who in certain abnormal states would 
 mouth out Sanscrit words, these being accepted by her 
 friends as the utterances of a disembodied spirit. It 
 afterward appeared that this woman, in her early child- 
 hood, had been often in a room where a professor of 
 Oriental languages would mutter scraps of Sanscrit as 
 he waited for his morning chocolate. The child never 
 knew she had heard them, but thirty years later they 
 emitted themselves from the mouth of the morbid wom- 
 an. To such cases he would add that of a French post- 
 man who was terrified at finding that, when drunk, he 
 had lost a valuable letter, but retained, in his sober state, 
 no memory of the incident. He was made drunk again. 
 He remembered it, and the letter was found, thrown 
 away in a ditch by a road near Paris. Dr. Thistlewood 
 said that he mentioned this last case because, simple as 
 it seemed, it threw a vivid light on a question we were 
 all compelled to ask. No memories exist in a conscious 
 form always. What are they when they are not con- 
 scious ? In what do they reside or inhere ? They don't 
 reside in the clouds. We obviously carry them about 
 with us; for with appropriate instruments we can re- 
 
 153
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 cover them. In what they reside the postman's case 
 showed us. The instrument by which they were recov- 
 ered in his case was a litre of strong red wine, and the 
 wine operated by affecting his nervous system, or, rather, 
 some special tracts of it. The nervous system, then, 
 was the basis of all consciousness the basis of what 
 we mean by self. Self was a portion of that system, in 
 a certain special condition. In other words, self for 
 psychology was a function of the nervous organism. 
 
 "Of course," said Dr. Thistlewood, "the clergy and 
 they are well within their province in doing so will tell 
 us that the self, or soul, has a secret existence of its own 
 behind this nervous organism and transcending it. I 
 wish to say nothing here in contradiction of this doc- 
 trine. I say only that, if this doctrine is true, we must 
 learn it from the clergy and not from psychological sci- 
 ence. Science must be austerely humble and remain 
 within its own boundaries." The few clergymen in the 
 room here testified their approbation. "Psychology," 
 Dr. Thistlewood continued, " deals only with the self as 
 we know it under the present conditions of our exist- 
 ence; and so long as we approach it under these con- 
 ditions it is inseparable from the nervous system, and 
 can only be understood as a product of it/' 
 
 It was by a recognition of this fact, he went on, that 
 psychology had ceased to be an affair of private and 
 conflicting self-examinations, and had become a science 
 in the true sense of the word. It had supplemented the 
 self-examinations of the recluse by the experiments of 
 the laboratory and the hospital. These methods of 
 observation, he said, were revealing a world of wonders, 
 all exhibiting the conscious life of the self as an efflores- 
 cence of the non-conscious organism or as a candle- 
 flame dependent on the wax which it melts for its own 
 consumption. "Well," he continued, "to many of you 
 all this may seem very revolutionary; but if it destroys 
 some of our old beliefs, it is, in the most sensational way, 
 reconstructive of others. I said I should avoid tres-
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 passing on the proper domain of the clergy, but I think 
 they will forgive me if I here stray over the border. 
 There are a large number of miracles ascribed to the 
 saints of Christendom which, though the Roman Church 
 still regards them as genuine, Protestantism and science 
 alike have been accustomed to dismiss as ridiculous and 
 degrading fables." 
 
 A slight sound in the body of the hall here made the 
 lecturer pause. It was caused by Mr. Barton, who was 
 at that moment entering. The sound of the words 
 "saints" and "miracles" arrested him in the act of 
 searching for a place. He subsided into a chair with a 
 frown of prospective antagonism. 
 
 " Many of these miracles," Dr. Thistlewood continued, 
 " so long derided by Protestant and scientific rationalism, 
 the psychological science of to-day is actually giving 
 back to us as facts. Indeed, for the scientific, for the 
 experimental psychologist, some of the most valuable 
 documents we possess are comprised in the old accounts 
 of certain of the mediaeval saints." Mr. Barton could 
 hardly believe his ears. Dr. Thistlewood said that he 
 alluded to such phenomena as trance and ecstasy, to 
 the seeing of visions, to the hearing of spiritual voices, 
 and to the actual development in saints' bodies of the 
 stigmata. Experimental psychology, founded as it was 
 on observation, now recognized such alleged facts as 
 genuine; for the psychologist was daily encountering, 
 among the human specimens submitted to him, similar 
 facts himself; and when they occurred they coincided 
 in the most startling way with minute details recorded by 
 the hagiologists of the' Roman Church. The occurrence 
 even of stigmatization had been actually witnessed in 
 hospitals. The occurrence of trance and ecstasy, divine 
 visions, the hearing of unspeakable words, the con- 
 sciousness of an abnormal insight into the divine mys- 
 tery of existence might be called comparatively com- 
 mon. They could be produced even in a healthy subject 
 by the inhalation of certain vapors. But apart from
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 the employment of a medical artifice such as this, these 
 phenomena were always accompanied by certain physical 
 symptoms very specific symptoms, which happened to 
 be precisely those ascribed to the saints by their biog- 
 raphers. Among these symptoms, for example, were 
 certain affections of the skin, often mentioned as ex- 
 hibited by the great ecstatics, and identical with those 
 distinctive of hysterical visionaries to-day. The ravish- 
 ment of the saints, as we learned from St. Teresa herself, 
 was always accompanied by a depression of breathing 
 and circulation. These precise symptoms were now 
 recognized as accompaniments of the ravishments of the 
 hospital. More curious still, such ravishments as the 
 saints experienced were said to have been accompanied, 
 in some cases, by extraordinary contortions of the body. 
 St Christina, for example, commonly called "mirabilis," 
 is said to have been, during her ecstasies, contracted 
 into a spherical form, or as her biographer puts it 
 rolled up like a hedge-hog. Precisely the same thing 
 occurred in cases of hystero-epilepsy. The vision of 
 the Apostle Paul under the mid-day sun of Syria was at 
 one time lightly dismissed by scientific men as a fairy 
 tale. Psychologists now recognized that, in all its 
 generic features, it coincided with well-known effects of 
 sunstroke. w I will," said Dr Thistlewood, " again beg 
 leave to impress on you that there is nothing in all this 
 which need conflict with the faith of Christians. Just 
 as the psychologist's identification of the self with the 
 organic system need not hinder the clergy from maintain- 
 ing that there is a transcendental self in the background, 
 so the identification of certain abnormal phenomena, as 
 manifested by saints and apostles, with occurrences daily 
 observable in our hospitals and elsewhere, need not pre- 
 vent the clergy from maintaining that there was in the 
 former cases some additional element wholly unknown 
 to science, and present in those cases only." 
 
 And now, Dr. Thistlewood said, he would descend 
 from abnormal facts to normal, which were for the old 
 
 156
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 psychology no less inexplicable. Here he would once 
 again refer to the Apostle Paul. They all remembered 
 the apostle's celebrated confession: "The evil which I 
 would not, that I do." This paradoxical antagonism 
 between the act and the conscious will was a mystery 
 to the apostle himself, and has remained a mystery till 
 yesterday. The new psychology had now thrown a 
 flood of light on it. By showing us that all our con- 
 sciousness was the product of non-conscious activities, it 
 exhibited will, or the conscious impulse to action, as 
 surrounded by other impulses of which consciousness 
 told us nothing, but which differed from will only as, 
 in the case of some enormous mechanism, wheels and 
 levers, of whose action we could take no count, because 
 they were lost in darkness, differed from others which 
 were revealed to us by a bull's-eye lantern. The old 
 psychology confined itself to those few parts of the 
 mechanism which lay within the illuminated circle. 
 No wonder it was mystified by observing that the wheels 
 which alone were visible to it were often reversed by 
 some agency which was not in these wheels themselves. 
 But when once it was realized that these few visible 
 wheels were but parts of some larger mechanism, with 
 a complex apparatus of unseen reversing gears, springs, 
 and detents, which acted on them, the element of mystery 
 and paradox altogether disappeared. 
 
 Finally, from the antagonism between the conscious 
 will and the act, they would pass to the succession of 
 wills, each antagonistic to the other. Philip drunk dif- 
 fered from Philip sober. Love prevailed one week. 
 Prudence prevailed the next. Familiar facts like these 
 showed us that the area of consciousness or, in other 
 words, the content of what we commonly call self was 
 not stationary, but moved, as the light flung from a 
 lantern might, and had for its focal nucleus different 
 brain centres in succession, and of a series of conscious 
 states, thus varying in their content, what we commonly 
 mean by self, or by personal identity, was composed. 
 
 157
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 The question remained, however, of how these states 
 were connected. What rendered the series one self in- 
 stead of many selves? The answer to this question 
 might be given in two forms. One was subjective 
 namely, a general continuity of memory. The other 
 was objective namely, the physical basis of memory, 
 or the continuous functioning, to use yet more technical 
 language, of certain parts of one normally co-ordinated 
 organism. " In other words," Dr. Thistlewood went on, 
 "what the new psychology shows, to make the matter 
 short, is this: that these selves of ours, which we used 
 to think so simple, are each of them a sort of family 
 whose common life is supported by the co-operation of 
 a thousand servants. Most of these servants the family 
 never sees at all; and it sees, of those whom it does see, 
 only two or three at a time. And now," said Dr. Thistle- 
 wood, "to conclude. The general upshot of what I 
 have just been saying may be briefly expressed thus: 
 The new psychology takes much with which we are 
 familiar away from us, but it gives us something in 
 return which, when its strangeness has gone, we shall 
 find to be more than an equivalent. The old psychology 
 said, through one of its most accomplished representa- 
 tives, ' We feel that we are greater than we know.' The 
 new psychology answers and will you carry its answer 
 away with you? 'We know that we are greater than 
 we feel.' " 
 
 "My dear Dr. Gustav," said Lady Conway, when all 
 was over, " I'm delighted to hear that I keep so large an 
 establishment, and that when I do wrong it's all the 
 fault of the kitchen-maids. I must tell you, however, 
 that for my own part I feel my greatness as well as know 
 it, for to-night I'm going to meet you at dinner."
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 MR. BARTON, who had come to the lecture with a 
 view to detecting the errors in it and taking them 
 for a text in some future conversation with Miss Vivian, 
 found himself for the first few moments in a state of be- 
 wildered surprise which had in it the conflicting flavors 
 of unexpected approval and of disappointment. The 
 announcement which greeted him on his entrance that 
 the new psychology was rehabilitating the miracles of 
 the mediaeval saints he could not quarrel with that, 
 although he would have liked to do so; and again, the 
 lecturer's manner this certainly was not the manner of 
 an "apothecary" turned quack philosopher. Still, Mr. 
 Barton felt that there was something not right some- 
 where; and then came the sentence in which the great 
 vision of Paul, while admitted to be a fact, was as- 
 similated to the ordinary results of sunstroke. Mr. 
 Barton felt at once that his original prevision was justi- 
 fied; and when he grasped more clearly the general line 
 of the argument when he heard man's self spoken of as 
 a function of his organic system, his immortal soul as a 
 product of a bundle of perishable nerves he was less 
 scandalized than delighted to find that even the most 
 accomplished of sceptics inevitably fell to the level of the 
 infidel of the street and the pothouse. Nothing is more 
 gratifying to an opponent than to hear his enemy, in 
 deliberate terms, expose himself. 
 
 Mr. Barton had hoped to ascertain, the moment he 
 entered, if Miss Vivian were present, possibly to sit near 
 her, and at all events to note her companions and the 
 manner in which she comported herself. But the crowd, 
 
 159
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 for which he was not prepared, made any such observa- 
 tions impracticable, so he resigned himself to waiting 
 till the end; and then, when the end came, and he stood 
 in the gangway looking for her, he felt himself ready to 
 meet her with new confidence and authority. It would, 
 indeed, not be difficult to deal with Dr. Gustav Thistle- 
 wood. 
 
 As the audience gradually thinned and no Miss Viv- 
 ian appeared, he saw that in the neighborhood of the 
 platform a numerous group remained; and there, not 
 far from some sables which he recognized as Lady Con- 
 way's, was an aigrette which could, as he knew, belong to 
 one person only. Toward this group he began to push 
 his way, but before he could get near it, the out-goers 
 being still numerous, he encountered Mr. George Carlton, 
 who, nervously holding his hat so as to protect it against 
 the pressure of the public, assumed, on catching sight 
 of him, an expression of beckoning intelligence. 
 
 "My dear fellow," said Mr. Carlton, "I've just been 
 sent to look for you. You're not gone that's delight- 
 ful. My cousin Lady Susannah wants you to come to 
 tea with her. I ought to tell you that there's a plot to 
 make you sing perhaps a duet with a certain young 
 person who is your pupil and I'm quite sure that 
 you'll be dear and nice and obliging. Lord Cotswold is 
 coming so musical and interesting; and he is most 
 anxious to hear you. There he is. Let me introduce 
 you." 
 
 Mr. Barton could not refuse. He did not, indeed, wish 
 to do so. During the past half-hour he had become 
 conscious of a new attitude. The world would not hurt 
 him. He could meet it on its own ground; and by 
 mixing with it and observing its dangers he would be 
 able all the better to guard others against them. While 
 this was passing in his mind he heard Mr. Carlton 
 describing him as " such a dear fellow such a charming 
 fellow so cultivated"; and a moment later he found 
 himself the recipient of a bow from Lord Cotswold, so 
 
 1 60
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 grave, stately, and deferent that a bishop could have 
 desired no more. 
 
 "I hear, Mr. Barton," said Lord Cotswold, "that you 
 have travelled much in the East, studying its churches. 
 I also am an architectural palmer, and have brought 
 back many relics from Palestine. My reliquaries are 
 portfolios. Some day you must let me show them to 
 you." 
 
 Meanwhile, in the group to which Mr. Barton had thus 
 attached himself, a slight movement was being caused 
 by the departure of one of its members. This was Sir 
 Rawlin Stantor. 
 
 "You're not coming to tea, then?" said Miss Vivian, 
 as he held her hand. 
 
 " If I can," he answered, in a tone that at once moved 
 and chilled her. " I have an appointment at the office 
 first. It was all I could do to steal time for the lecture. 
 The sooner I go the more chance I have of coming back 
 to you afterward. This evening I make a speech. One 
 can't always do what one wants to do." 
 
 "Listen," said Lady Conway, detaining him for a 
 moment. " I congratulate you. Your manner to the 
 young person during the lecture was a model of retro- 
 gressive prudence." 
 
 When Mr. Barton, who fraternally went shares in a 
 very slow cab with Mr. Carlton, reached Cliff's End, the 
 rest of the party were already assembled in the drawing- 
 room. Lady Conway's dress and Lord Cotswold's some- 
 what florid presence made him feel the moment he en- 
 tered as though, somehow or other, the homely apartment 
 had been refurnished. Lord Cotswold, divining that 
 Miss Arundel was not endowed with the gifts which capt- 
 ure the attention of strangers, was devoting himself to 
 her with a benignant courtliness, and was actually talk- 
 ing about poultry. Mr. Hugo, on his best behavior, was 
 smiling a shy smile, and was explaining to Lady Conway, 
 who sat in a window and encouraged him, that the bank 
 of shadowy purple rising along the horizon was the shad- 
 
 161
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 ow of the earth cast upward by the departed sun ; while 
 Oswald looked on in his most diplomatic of attitudes, 
 feeling too superior to be jealous; and Miss Vivian, dis- 
 tinguished among the rest as though she were some ex- 
 pensive flower, exhibited a smiling weariness which was 
 ready for its ornamental duties. 
 
 "Ah," she said to Mr. Barton, with some slight signs 
 of animation, " I'm glad you've come. I believe we're 
 to be fellow- victims." 
 
 This intimate welcome would have comforted Mr. Bar- 
 ton greatly had he not caught sight of something which 
 produced in him a new disturbance. Lady Susannah, 
 who had at first escaped his observation, came forward 
 from somewhere, in conversation with a male guest, and 
 the two, conversing still, took up a position on the hearth- 
 rug. This guest was the very man who, half an hour 
 ago, had been pompously enunciating in their shallowest 
 and most childish form doctrines which were fatal to all 
 spiritual religion, and declaring that the earliest evi- 
 dence which we possess of the Lord's resurrection was 
 due to the action of the sun on the back of St. Paul's 
 head. And to this man with the quiet, intrepid eyes 
 this Satan in modern clothes Mr. Barton's hostess 
 his simple, his Christian hostess was talking confiden- 
 tially, with a touch of pink in her cheeks, and with an 
 eagerness almost girlish. Moreover, so far as Mr. Bar- 
 ton could gather, the subject which the two were dis- 
 cussing had some connection with the lecture. 
 
 To a certain extent he was right. "Of course, Dr. 
 Thistlewood," Lady Susannah had been saying, " I 
 couldn't understand some of it, but I'm quite sure that 
 nerves have a great deal to do with all of us. My niece 
 there, whom I think you know she's stronger now, 
 thank God! her health, her spirits, one might almost 
 say her thoughts, have seemed at times to be hanging 
 on a hair-trigger." 
 
 " Ah," said Dr. Thistlewood, looking in Miss Vivian's 
 direction, "a very interesting young lady to me par- 
 
 162
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 ticularly so. Could you tell me a little more about 
 her?" 
 
 Lady Susannah told him the story of the attack of 
 influenza, and what had followed it, not omitting to 
 mention the girl's dread of thunder. 
 
 "That must," she said, "be purely the result of at- 
 mospheric conditions on her nerves; for, as to her mind, 
 nobody could be more sensible. Before she came to me 
 she was under Dr. Gonteau at Nice." 
 
 "Indeed!" said Dr. Thistlewood. "He's one of my 
 best friends. Well, Lady Susannah, nothing is new to 
 doctors. What first interested me in your niece was a 
 likeness to a certain young woman though, of course, 
 there are great differences whom I once came across 
 in Italy and once again in Scotland." 
 
 " Did she," asked Lady Susannah, " suffer from nerves, 
 too?" 
 
 Dr. Thistlewood laughed. " It's because the two," 
 he said, "are so utterly unlike in point of nervousness, 
 that I find something interesting in their general and 
 superficial likeness. Often such a likeness means a like- 
 ness in character also. In the case of twins this is some- 
 times extremely striking." 
 
 Dr. Thistlewood and his hostess were by this time on 
 the hearth - rug, and not only Mr. Barton but others 
 were exhibiting an inclination to listen to them. 
 
 " My dear Dr. Gustav," said Lady Conway, looking 
 placidly up at him, "what's all this about twins? Aren't 
 you becoming rather Gampish?" 
 
 "I was," said Dr. Thistlewood, "telling Lady Susan- 
 nah that the physical likeness between twins is often 
 accompanied by a moral likeness also. Indeed, if their 
 physical likeness and the likeness of their external cir- 
 cumstances were complete, their lives and thoughts 
 would be as similar as the movements of two similar 
 clocks. You think I'm laughing," he went on, "but I 
 and other doctors have been collecting cases which bear 
 on this very point. I can tell you of two cases which 
 
 163
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 came under my own notice. Two twin Alsatians, at 
 the age of thirty- two one in Paris, the other in San 
 Francisco were both attacked simultaneously by rheu- 
 matic opthalmia. Three years later, by acts of similar 
 carelessness one at Liverpool, the other at the Central 
 Railway Station in New York both received similar 
 injuries on the right cheek, and ever afterward bore a 
 similar scar. Of another pair these were natives of 
 Jersey one went for years to India, the other was a 
 lawyer in London. At the age of fifty-five, not having 
 met for more than a quarter of a century, on the same 
 day, and at the same hour of the afternoon, both were 
 found to have been buying old-fashioned champagne- 
 glasses one at a shop in Hamburg, the other at a shop 
 in Inverness." 
 
 "But," interposed Mr. Barton, unable any longer to 
 contain himself, "may not we poor priests be allowed 
 to maintain in our folly that it is the likeness of the two 
 souls which produces that of the bodies, instead of the 
 reverse, as I gather that you suggest yourself?" 
 
 "I should," said Dr. Thistlewood, courteously, "be 
 the last man in the world to attempt the refutation of 
 the view which you put forward. I was only speaking of 
 facts. I was not even suggesting an explanation of them. ' ' 
 
 "I should imagine," said Mr. Barton, the spirit of op- 
 position rising in him, " that even the facts were difficult 
 to prove. I should like to ask you if there is a single 
 pair of persons on record to whom you or your friends, 
 on your own grounds of observation, would attribute 
 absolute likeness, whether of mind or body?" 
 
 " I am so far," replied Dr. Thistlewood, apparently 
 unconscious of Mr. Barton's militant tone, "from saying 
 that such a case exists that I should set it down as being, 
 from the nature of things, impossible. If twins were 
 alike at their birth, they would be differently situated 
 afterward, since no two bodies can be absolutely in the 
 same place at once. They would be like two clocks side 
 by side in the Greenwich Observatory, which, an at- 
 
 164
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 tendant told me, kept pretty much the same time that 
 is to say, he added, if we allow for the difference of 
 longitude." 
 
 This illustration produced a general laugh, and the 
 subject of the twins lost itself among the general triv- 
 ialities of the tea-table. Then came the time when the 
 promised music was called for. Oswald opened the 
 piano, and Miss Vivian and Mr. Barton retired to the 
 other end of the room to select from a pile of music some 
 duet suitable to the occasion. 
 
 " Will you take it to the piano ?" said Miss Vivian, when 
 such a piece was found. " And please ask for candles. 
 It's dark in that corner. I'll come in another moment." 
 
 She turned away as she spoke, and, going alone to a 
 window, she seemed to have forgotten all else in con- 
 templation of the gathering twilight, as she had done on 
 another occasion, when Sir Rawlin prematurely left her. 
 Mr. Barton meanwhile set himself down at the instrument 
 and ran his fingers over the keys, with a masterful and 
 brilliant touch which, he could not help feeling, gave an 
 additional point to his recent attacks on Dr. Thistle- 
 wood. Dr. Thistlewood himself, who was watching Miss 
 Vivian closely, gradually approached, though he did not 
 attempt to join her. 
 
 "Nest, my dear," said Lady Susannah, presently, 
 "come, we are all waiting for you." 
 
 But the girl seemed not to hear, and her conduct was 
 just beginning to excite general attention when Dr. 
 Thistlewood moved quickly toward her, and contrived 
 to give the impression that what detained her was a 
 conversation with himself. 
 
 "You are wanting to go to sleep," he said, slightly 
 pinching her wrist. "Blink your eyes; look at me. 
 Wake up. You are rested." 
 
 Her face at once recovered its usual aspect. " What!" 
 she said. "Are they waiting? I beg everybody's par- 
 don." And hastening to the piano she stationed herself 
 at Mr. Barton's side. 
 
 165
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 The piece they had selected for performance was 
 recognized by every one from the first preliminary 
 chords that sounded at Mr. Barton's touch. "Oh for 
 the wings of a dove!" it was a cry that appeals to all. 
 Even Lady Conway was moved. In the exquisite tenor 
 of Mr. Barton's voice she recognized a treasure which 
 would be invaluable at her own small concerts; and the 
 girl, when to this tenor she joined her own soprano, 
 seemed to be lifted from her lassitude on the wings of her 
 own voice, and be borne by them far away toward the 
 wilderness of desired rest. 
 
 "The clergyman's singing," said Lord Cotswold to 
 Mr. Carlton, " is magnificent. He interests me. Every 
 muscle of his face is tense with feeling still. He wants 
 her to sing again, but she won't. She has gone back to 
 Thistlewood." 
 
 "Do you," Dr. Thistlewood was saying to her, "hap- 
 pen, by any chance, to have any relations in Italy?" 
 
 " No," she said. " What makes you ask ?" 
 
 " You remind me," he replied, " of some one I once met 
 at Siena who was, I think, married to an Italian. In 
 some ways, though not in others, the likeness is very 
 curious, though nobody would be likely to mistake one 
 of you for the other. I was wondering whom you re- 
 minded me of when I met you first at the mesmerist's." 
 
 "I hope," said Miss Vivian, with an indifferent smile, 
 " that she was nice. I was never in Italy myself. I only 
 wish I had been. I have looked at it so often from 
 Mentone. See we've disturbed Mr. Barton. Why has 
 he left off singing?" 
 
 "My dear Mr. Barton," said Lord Cotswold, "accept 
 my deepest thanks. My own piano and music-room 
 I have both are as silent as the dust of Adam. Per- 
 haps you will favor me one of these days by breathing 
 into them a passing soul. And you, young lady," he 
 went on, as he turned to Miss Vivian, " I've just been 
 telling Mr. Barton that I too have a piano of my own. 
 The ogre's castle is by this time fit to receive victims. 
 
 1 66
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 I must get your aunt to beguile you into entering its 
 dangerous precincts." 
 
 " Dr. Gustav, before you go," said Lady Conway, join- 
 ing the group, " let me ask you if you know that, on this 
 auspicious occasion, we have not only musicians among 
 us but also a sucking scientist. Behold him!" she went 
 on, as she brought Mr. Hugo forward in a manner which 
 vaguely suggested that she had hold of him by the collar. 
 " He's been telling me all sorts of things about the sun 
 and the earth's shadow; and he's going to reform hu- 
 manity by manufacturing a new Adam; what is it out 
 of, Mr. Hugo a mixture of glue and radium?" 
 
 "Well," said Dr. Thistlewood, taking Mr. Hugo's 
 hand, " I suppose she is thinking of radiobes. You and 
 I are brothers in research is that so? Only you have 
 the advantage of me, for the future is the kingdom of the 
 young. You must come and see me at Lord Cotswold's 
 wonderful castle. We might hit on some bits of ap- 
 paratus which perhaps you would find useful." 
 
 Mr. Hugo, who, under Lady Conway 's drastic patron- 
 age, had hardly known whether to feel naughty or flat- 
 tered, acknowledged this invitation with the broadest 
 and most innocent of smiles. 
 
 "Well," said Lady Conway, "I must begin distrib- 
 uting my adieus. Good-bye, Miss Nest. I must kiss 
 you, my dear. You have sung beautifully. Mr. Barton, 
 we have not been introduced, so imagine that I am in- 
 dulging in the presumption of praising you behind your 
 back. Dr. Gustav, we shall meet later. Mr. Hugo, come 
 here. Take me out to my carriage." 
 
 Thus the company departed, with the exception of Mr. 
 Barton. He, under the pretext of desiring to find some 
 music, managed to outstay the rest; and while he and 
 Miss Vivian were jointly engaged in looking for it the 
 members of the family dispersed themselves, leaving him 
 and her alone. 
 
 "Well," said Mr. Barton, looking at her with an air 
 of reproachful friendliness, " and so the lecture has come 
 
 167
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 and gone. I'm sure you are none the wiser for it. You 
 certainly don't look happier although one of its con- 
 sequences has been a kiss from your new friend. Ah, 
 that's the book I wanted. It's one of my own. Thank 
 you very much, and good-bye. You sang just a little 
 flat in two places, but it wasn't much." 
 
 "Are you," said Miss Vivian, "really in so great a 
 hurry ? Why do you look at me like that ? What have 
 I done that's dreadful?" 
 
 "It's nothing," said Mr. Barton, suspending his prep- 
 arations for departure " it's nothing that you've done 
 personally." 
 
 "Oh," said the girl, "then there is something, after 
 all. Well, then, tell me what have I done impersonal- 
 ly ? Has the honor of Lady Conway's kiss any tendency 
 to unfit me for confirmation ?" 
 
 "Since you put it to me," said Mr. Barton, "I may 
 as well speak honestly. Indeed, I have been longing to 
 do so. I'm thinking of nothing that you've done. I'm 
 thinking of something that seems to be going on round 
 you. The atmosphere in which you live seems changing 
 growing less and less like that in which I would wish 
 to see you live myself." He spoke with a new confidence 
 born of his late experiences his triumphs as a musician 
 in the drawing-room, and a sense that he himself, what- 
 ever Dr. Thistlewood's technical knowledge, was fully 
 capable of exposing his childish fallacies as a philosopher. 
 " Take Lord Cotswold," he proceeded. " Lord Cotswold 
 may have fine qualities. There is something about him 
 which suggests this; but he has led a tainted life. Take 
 Lady Conway this masterful London lady. Whatever 
 her private conduct, she is of the world, worldly. I 
 caught a jesting phrase of hers something about the 
 new Adam. A single phrase a slight nuance of tone 
 will sometimes speak volumes. Sacred things for that 
 woman are matter for a passing smile. But worse still 
 is this doctor, with his wealth and his melodramatic rep- 
 utation and his royal friends and his grand seigneur 
 
 1 68
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 manners and let us admit it his professional skill 
 and the fuss which such people as Lord Cotswold and 
 Lady Conway make with him. All this does but make 
 him the more dangerous; for, with regard to the deepest 
 things the things that alone matter that man is a char- 
 latan. That lecture of his I tell you this candidly I 
 should several times have got up and left the room, if 
 it had not been my wish to acquaint myself with the sort 
 of thing you were being exposed to. He may not say 
 in so many words that the soul is of no importance, but 
 he sinks it in the body. Body for him is everything; 
 and if you want to see where that leads him, you may 
 remember what he said about St. Paul." 
 
 " Do you know," said Miss Vivian, wearily, " that when 
 you talk like this you really rather put my back up. 
 You treat me as if I were a baby. What possible harm 
 could that very dry lecture do me? I'm sure I don't 
 know what Dr. Thistlewood means. When he talked 
 about St. Paul he reminded me a little of Mr. Hugo; 
 but he isn't silly like Mr. Hugo, at all events, who 
 thinks that human beings can be made out of beef- 
 tea." 
 
 "Forgive me," said Mr. Barton, half smiling. "I 
 don't wish to affront you." 
 
 To his delight and astonishment the girl held out her 
 hand to him. 
 
 " No," she said, " it is you who have got to forgive me. 
 It was quite wrong of me to be irritated. But I'm not, 
 perhaps, in the best of spirits. There are so many things 
 which you can tell me and which I don't know, and 
 which would help me. Why do you waste your time in 
 telling me things I do know ? Whether I shall manage 
 to save my own soul or not, neither you nor I can tell, 
 but I'm not in the least danger of forgetting the fact 
 that I have one." 
 
 " Hark!" said Mr. Barton. " Some one is coming. If 
 I don't see you before, you will hear me preach on Sun- 
 day the first of my confirmation sermons. Fancy, when 
 
 169
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 you hear me, that I am talking to you alone. I shall 
 deal with the very points which I have in my mind now. 
 I only long to help you. Ah, Mr. Carlton, I and my fel- 
 low-performer have been looking for one of my music- 
 books. We've found the truant, and I must be off."
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 " I'M glad," said Lord Cotswold, "that you thought, as 
 
 1 we went away, of asking the young scientist to come 
 in after dinner. What will that boy be thinking what 
 will men of science be thinking what will the world be 
 thinking when he is as old as I am?" 
 
 Dr. Thistlewood shrugged his shoulders. "Darwin," 
 he said, " set a stone rolling the course of which was be- 
 yond his own wildest conjecture." 
 
 The speakers were standing together in front of a 
 large fireplace the arch of which was like the entrance 
 to a mosque. Above it, wreathed in arabesques, was 
 a clock with Turkish numerals, whose hands were about 
 to register the hour of half-past eight. The room to 
 which this fireplace belonged, large and finely propor- 
 tioned, was tawdry, even in the dim lamplight, with tar- 
 nished colors and gilding. With its blue ceiling, on 
 which glimmered large yellow crescents, and its mirrors, 
 whose red - and - green frames culminated in horseshoe 
 curves, it was not unlike some cigar-divan or so-called 
 "Oriental cafe"," the haunt of the jeunesse dorie of some 
 great commercial town. 
 
 "It's a pity," said Lord Cotswold, "that Rawlin was 
 not able to come. The charming guest we are waiting 
 for had once upon a time a tendresse for him." 
 
 "Who," said a voice in the doorway, eclipsing that of 
 a servant " who had a tendresse for whom, if I may ask 
 an indiscreet question ?" The questioner was Lady Con- 
 way. 
 
 "We were talking," said Lord Cotswold, "of Rawlin. 
 He's speechifying to-night, or he'd be here." 
 171
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 "Ah," said Lady Conway, carelessly, "women began 
 early with Rawlin; and I don't feel sure that they've 
 quite done with him yet. He began with the old. He's 
 now trying the young." 
 
 " The power of exciting the love of even an experienced 
 man," said Lord Cotswold, ignoring any personal in- 
 nuendo in this speech, "may exist in a young girl just 
 as well as in the most accomplished woman. The rea- 
 son is that what a man loves in a woman is no one of the 
 qualities which he would value in a mere human being, 
 as such intellect, sound judgment, knowledge, or even 
 complete respectability. These may be his own pos- 
 session. Any male friend may possess them. What 
 he loves in a woman is a something forever outside him- 
 self the mystery of all the horizons, the mystery of the 
 Feminine in the universe. In the feminine organisms, 
 as our friend Dr. Gustav would say, which are fit to hold 
 it, this mystery is like wine trembling in ever fresh ves- 
 sels, and ever fresh itself from the eternal vine. What 
 does it matter whether the vessel was made this week 
 or the week before, when what sparkles at its brim is 
 older than all the existing stars ? The magic in a young 
 girl's eyes is as old as the summer sea, just as the sum- 
 mer sea is as young as a young girl's eyes." 
 
 In the dining-room Lady Conway looked up from her 
 soup. " You always," she said to her host, " had a cook 
 above the common. I'm a better judge of the Masculine 
 making stock in his own kitchen than I am of the Eternal 
 Feminine making a mace'doine of grapes out of the uni- 
 verse. So, unless we are like the poet Anacreon, and are 
 absolutely unable to sing about anything except love, 
 suppose you were to tell me a little something about 
 your travels you and Dr. Gustav. He's almost as 
 practical as I am." 
 
 The two travellers accordingly began upon this fertile 
 subject, Lady Conway, who had been round the world 
 herself, comparing very vivaciously her own experiences 
 with theirs. 
 
 172
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 "By-the-way," she said, as dinner was drawing to a 
 conclusion, "do you know whom I met at Calcutta? 
 Charlie Galton. You remember that waist he cultivated. 
 Well, he's now the shape of a football. As soon as I saw 
 him I understood how that scented wife of his, with her 
 bangles, her roaming eyes, and her necklace of tiger's- 
 claws, had so often, and at such uncanonical hours, a cer- 
 tain gray horse standing at the door of her bungalow." 
 
 "Who," said Dr. Thistlewood, stopping her, "is the 
 poet Anacreon now? It's just the same with all of you. 
 Who is in love with whom ? Your conversation is always 
 coming back to that. What does it matter ? You might 
 just as well talk about who gave whom the measles." 
 
 " Not at all," said Lady Conway. " I'm a philosopher 
 myself in my own way, though I don't talk about uni- 
 verses ; and I'm amused by seeing the follies that women 
 can make men commit or, rather, I should say, bring 
 out, for the foolishness was in the men before." 
 
 "Oh," said Dr. Thistlewood, "that amuses you, does 
 it ? No woman, you say, could force a man into follies 
 unless these were already in harmony with the man's 
 general nature. That, as I gather, is the philosophy 
 which forms the basis of your amusement. Well, I've 
 been trying some experiments which bear on this amus- 
 ing question. Indeed, I had been arranging to amuse 
 you after dinner by showing you one not on yourself, 
 so you needn't feel the least alarmed." 
 
 Unable to guess what he meant, Lady Conway turned 
 away from him. 
 
 "Tell me, Lord Cotswold," she said, "who built this 
 madman's house ? And what on earth made you take it ?" 
 
 "An Anglo-Indian," replied Lord Cotswold, "built it. 
 As to my taking it, I won't tell you my reasons. Dr. 
 Gustav shall show them to you after dinner, and per- 
 haps something else besides." 
 
 At this moment the dining-room door opened, and a 
 servant's voice out of the shadow announced: " Mr. Hugo 
 Arundel."
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 "My dear young friend," said Lord Cotswold, rising to 
 meet him, " I'm delighted to see you. I hope my car- 
 riage came for you in good time. Sit between me and 
 Dr. Thistlewood. He's going, after dinner, to give us 
 a little experiment. He has many things that will in- 
 terest you. He has an apparatus for taking moving 
 photographs. No doubt you're a photographer your- 
 self. You might do us all by limelight." 
 
 Lady Conway looked at him with a confidential and 
 laughing eye. " Not me, Mr. Hugo," she said. " I 
 strictly forbid that." 
 
 Mr. Hugo, meanwhile, who had refused various dain- 
 ties for fear he should seem like a child had down for 
 dessert, condescended in a manly way to sip at a glass 
 of port, and looked ready to be pleased with and also to 
 explain everything. 
 
 " Dodson," said Lord Cotswold to a servant, whom he 
 summoned with a small hand-bell, " have all the lamps 
 been lighted ? Come, then, Lady Conway, let us go, and 
 you shall see why I took this house." 
 
 From the gaudy drawing-room, in which they had as- 
 sembled before dinner, they passed on to a great circular 
 saloon, decorated in the same style, but more barely fur- 
 nished, and having in it a grand-piano. The windows 
 opened into a conservatory, the floor of which, on a 
 lower level, was reached by a flight of steps. Lady Con- 
 way descended into this, and saw that, along the face of 
 the house, the structure extended itself in the form of 
 a glazed gallery. At the end of the gallery for she was 
 determined to see everything she discovered a room in a 
 tower with a balcony that overlooked the sea. Ash-trays 
 and match-boxes showed that it was designed for smokers. 
 
 "Lord Cotswold," she said, when they all had re- 
 gained the music-room, " I'm a convert to your taste 
 already. That place was made for lovers. You posi- 
 tively ought to give a party." 
 
 " Precisely," said Lord Cotswold, " and have the priest 
 to play a small party, for in Lent he wouldn't come 
 
 174
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 to a large one. It's the very thing I've been contem- 
 plating. Before you go I must consult you about it. 
 But first let us finish our explorations." 
 
 He opened, as he spoke, a pair of tall vermilion doors, 
 which admitted them to a wide passage, carpetless, bare, 
 and echoing. 
 
 " Here," he said, " I shall hand you over to our friend. 
 I took this house, not for the sake of the lovers though 
 I hope we shall have many of them but because it en- 
 abled me to provide him with a separate kingdom of his 
 own. He thinks, when I leave, of continuing as its king, 
 on his own account." 
 
 When they reached the end of this passage, doors were 
 again opened. 
 
 "Now," said Dr. Thistlewood to Lady Conway, "will 
 you favor me by walking in? And will you favor me 
 also with your opinion on what you see?" 
 
 Lady Conway looked blankly round her. " My first 
 opinion is," she said, "that I have got into the reading- 
 room of a mechanics' institute. My second is that I 
 want to get to the fire." 
 
 The large, gaunt room, or gallery, in which they were 
 now standing, was illuminated by naked gas-jets, which 
 emphasized its general bleakness. The floor was cov- 
 ered with coarse cocoa-nut matting. The tables were 
 of white deal. Against the walls were some unorna- 
 mental cupboards, some photographs of human figures, 
 obviously taken for scientific rather than for artistic 
 purposes, and alternating with these were mysterious 
 anatomical diagrams. At one end was something in the 
 shape of a tall wardrobe draped with curtains, and at 
 the other, partially hidden by black cloths thrown over 
 them, were a large gramophone and other sets of appara- 
 tus, which made fitful glimmerings with their polished 
 brass and mahogany. 
 
 " Dr. Gustav," said Lady Conway, suddenly, with an 
 accent of slight alarm, " you don't mean to tell me that 
 you've opened a private hospital!" 
 
 175
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 Dr. Thistlewood looked at her with an air of provoking 
 gravity. "Don't be alarmed," he said. "My patients 
 are not infectious. Indeed, I have only one an old 
 servant of our host's, on whom I am keeping an eye 
 and her malady is so far from dangerous that she may 
 possibly outlive us all. It is, however, quite true that, 
 as soon as our host departs, I shall take this as a home 
 of rest for a certain class of invalids. That gramophone 
 will reutter my patients' confessions for me, and those 
 other implements are for registering their pulses, their 
 breathing, and their temperatures, when in various men- 
 tal conditions, and for taking and exhibiting moving pho- 
 tographs of them at critical stages in their careers." 
 
 "This monster," said Lady Conway to Lord Cotswold, 
 "is making me quite uncomfortable. What is it that 
 he really does here? Is this a dissecting-room? And 
 does he vivisect babies? And have you tucked him 
 away in this out-house so that no one may hear their 
 cries?" 
 
 "No," said Dr. Thistlewood, "I don't vivisect ba- 
 bies. I should like to vivisect criminals of a certain 
 class, instead of sending them to the gallows or the 
 electric chair. But why cry for the moon? Luckily, 
 Nature helps us. She gives us the vivisection of dis- 
 ease, especially brain disease. Also we have hypnotism, 
 which is a kind of vivisection in disguise, and which sen- 
 timentalists don't attack because they don't yet under- 
 stand it. But all this is dull for you. Let us go back 
 to common life. You said at dinner that when women 
 made fools of men they were only drawing out the folly 
 that was latent in the men already." 
 
 "My dear man," said Lady Conway, "you mustn't 
 take me au pied de la lettre like that. No doubt, as you 
 more than once have taken occasion to tell me, I often 
 talk a very great deal of nonsense." 
 
 "At all events," said Dr. Thistlewood, "in that par- 
 ticular piece of nonsense you suggested a very reason- 
 able question. You remember the mesmerist whose per- 
 
 176
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 formances you just missed. She had, of course, been 
 doing the usual tricks making various people do a 
 variety of ludicrous things which they wouldn't have 
 done had they been in their normal senses, and of hav- 
 ing done which they were afterward quite unconscious. 
 Well, there you've got something which, as every doc- 
 tor knows, is as easy and commonplace as the feat of a 
 school-boy who, for a practical joke, should make an- 
 other school-boy sick by putting an emetic in his tea. A 
 hypnotist can control the actions of nine people out of 
 ten, to some extent. That's admitted on all sides. But 
 a certain school of investigators doctors and others 
 contend that this power is limited in a peculiar and most 
 impressive way. A hypnotized person, they say, can be 
 made to do anything, no matter how contrary to his normal 
 judgment and proclivities, with one startling exception. 
 He can never be made to do anything morally wrong." 
 
 A bashful inclination to speak was here manifested by 
 Mr. Hugo. Lord Cotswold at once encouraged him, and 
 Mr. Hugo brought forth his wisdom. 
 
 " If," he said, still shy, yet rejoicing in his own temer- 
 ity, " no hypnotized person can be made to do what is 
 wrong, everything done by a hypnotized person must be 
 right. So, if you wanted to find out whether a thing was 
 wrong or right, you would only have to hypnotize some- 
 body and see if he could be made to do it." 
 
 "Bravo, Mr. Hugo!" said Lady Conway, laughing. 
 "Mesmerize your aunt Susannah and tell her to elope 
 with a bishop. If she does, the bishop will know that 
 she still is an honest woman. Or mesmerize Oswald 
 and tell him to elope with me he knows that I'm deeply 
 attached to him; and if only he's safely mesmerized at 
 the time when he does the deed we shall both of us be 
 comfortably sure that we have no need of repentance. 
 Look here, Dr. Gustav, do you happen to have a pin 
 about you ? I see that this rose in the front of my dress 
 is loose. It's only an artificial one. I wear it for the 
 sake of modesty rather than ornament." 
 
 177
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 " Do you," said Dr. Thistle wood, as if a sudden thought 
 had occurred to him, " mind waiting a moment ? I must 
 be going out of the room in a minute or two, and when I 
 come back I will bring you one. Well, our young friend 
 here has made an excellent criticism. If a hypnotized 
 person can be made to do nothing wrong, we've an in- 
 strument ready to our hands for solving all cases of 
 casuistry. Unfortunately, we are not so blessed. One 
 of the very writers who has urged this view most elabo- 
 rately happens to allude in his book to the well-known 
 case of a boy a gentle, excellent boy who when in a 
 condition brought on, not by hypnosis but by a seizure, 
 committed a most atrocious murder, of which afterward 
 in his normal state he had no knowledge or memory. 
 If conscience can be overturned by epilepsy, it's idle 
 to pretend that it must necessarily be immune to the 
 influences of hypnotism. Still," Dr. Thistlewood con- 
 tinued " Lady Conway, I hope I'm not boring you if 
 we are content to mean by conscience merely some dis- 
 position or habit ingrained in the subject's system, it may 
 often in various ways be able to resist suggestion just 
 as stupidity /would for no hypnotist could hypnotize 
 a dunce into a Bacon. Everything is a question of de- 
 gree. The truth is that the degree to which hypnotized 
 subjects are plastic under the influence of suggestion 
 differs in different cases; and we can't arrive at any 
 general conclusions except by careful experiments on a 
 number of typical subjects. It may amuse you to see 
 the way in which a test can be made, since you are, as 
 you truly say of yourself, a thoroughly practical woman. 
 So if you'll excuse me for a moment I'll make my short 
 preparations; and my young friend here, if he likes to 
 do so, shall come with me. Lady Conway, you needn't 
 look at me as if I were going to take one of your teeth out. 
 Come, Mr. Hugo Arundel, would you like to inspect the 
 preliminaries?" 
 
 Mr. Hugo, who had been alternately contemplating 
 the scientific pictures on the walls and listening to Dr. 
 
 178
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 Thistlewood with a vaguely gleeful sense that what the 
 great man was saying would be distasteful to Mr. Bar- 
 ton, responded to this summons with the air of a proud 
 disciple. 
 
 "That picture which, I see, catches your eye," said 
 Dr. Thistlewood, as they went together toward a farther 
 door, " is a curious little animal magnified. We'll have 
 it down and look at it when we come back." 
 
 "What's he going to do?" said Lady Conway, when 
 she and Lord Cotswold were left alone together. " Your 
 talk about your travels was much more amusing than 
 this." 
 
 "This," said Lord Cotswold, laying a hand on her 
 arm for he still retained something of the demeanor 
 of a man of gallantry " is only another form of travel- 
 ling. It is travelling in the world of knowledge ; and at 
 present it has this advantage, that it is not travelling in 
 a crowd. You asked me for my traveller's impressions," 
 he went on, abruptly. "The more rapid and easy the 
 act of travel becomes, and the more our own civilization 
 is diffusing itself throughout the remotest regions, the 
 more vividly does travel on myself produce one great 
 impression, which is this that the earth is no bigger 
 than some small balloon's small car, over whose wicker 
 sides we peer into the homeless gulfs around us ; but the 
 fact that this infinite space supports us and buoys us up, 
 fanning our cheeks and touching the very roots of our 
 hair, makes us feel we live by forces compared with which 
 this world is nothing. My dear friend, pending the ar- 
 rival of Dr. Gustav's pin, let me rearrange your rose for 
 you, which seems in danger of falling." 
 
 Lord Cotswold made the rearrangement a pretext for 
 certain attentions which some women would have re- 
 sented, but which Lady Conway submitted to indiffer- 
 ently with a faint, sarcastic smile. This tender scene 
 had not been completed very long before Dr. Thistle- 
 wood returned, and Mr. Hugo along with him. Mr. 
 Hugo's face and gait exhibited the happy importance of 
 
 179
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 a boy who has just been promoted from a jacket to a 
 coat with tails. 
 
 "Now," said Dr. Thistlewood, genially, "while we 
 wait for a few minutes we'll amuse Lady Conway by 
 showing her a pretty picture the one which my young 
 friend was looking at when we went out. I'll take it 
 down from the wall, and then we shall see it better. 
 Now, Lady Conway, what should you say that this is?" 
 
 "I'm sure I don't know," she replied, rather impa- 
 tiently. " It looks like a spider's web with a lot of lit- 
 tle spiders stuck in it. But you, no doubt, have some 
 long and learned name for it." 
 
 " Pretty well," said Dr. Thistlewood, laughing. " It's 
 a little animal which is called Microgamia Socialis. 
 Come, Mr. Arundel, we'll put it on this table. Each of 
 these little blotches is a living animal by itself ; but they 
 are all tied together, so as to have a common life, by 
 what looks like a spider's web, but is really a system of 
 nerves. That's a rude illustration of how we are made 
 ourselves. We are, each of us, a number of life-centres, 
 and what we each feel ourselves to be results from the 
 manner in which these centres are tied together." 
 
 Mr. Hugo looked at the picture with eager and de- 
 lighted eyes. "I quite understand," he said. "They 
 are something like the radiobes, which I hope I may be 
 able to show you in my bottle." 
 
 "Good Heavens!" exclaimed Lady Conway, with a 
 gasp. "What have we got here?" 
 
 Mr. Hugo turned round with a calm, superior smile. 
 As for the Microgamia Socialis, Lady Conway had quite 
 forgotten it. What attracted her attention was the en- 
 trance of a female domestic a pallid woman with an 
 amiable but strained expression, who proceeded to dust 
 the chairs in a very business-like manner, till she came 
 to the group near the fireplace, when a singular thing 
 happened. Pausing in front of Lady Conway, and look- 
 ing not at her face but at a point about ten inches be- 
 low it, she quietly plucked from its place the wearer's 
 
 1 80
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 artificial rose and, retiring a little, began to smell it. 
 Lady Conway was in the act of making a horrified gest- 
 ure of protest, but Dr. Thistlewood, seizing her wrist, 
 checked her. 
 
 "Don't mind that," he said. "Madame Levy does 
 that daily. Just stop quiet and listen. Sarah Davis, 
 tell me where did you find that flower?" 
 
 The woman looked slightly puzzled. " It was float- 
 ing," she said, "in the air, sir, just in front of the fire- 
 place, as if it was hanging by a bit of string or a cob- 
 web." 
 
 "How many people," said Dr. Thistlewood, "do you 
 see now in this room?" 
 
 "I see three, sir," said the woman: "yourself, his 
 lordship, and another a very young gentleman." 
 
 " You don't see a lady, do you?" 
 
 "No, sir," said the woman, looking round, "I don't 
 see no lady nowhere." 
 
 "At the end of the room," said Dr. Thistlewood, "is 
 a cupboard with a curtain drawn across it. Just pull 
 that curtain aside, please. You will find Mrs. Mark- 
 ham, his lordship's late housekeeper, who tried to get 
 you into trouble, hiding there." 
 
 The woman obeyed the order, and presently exposed 
 to view a life-sized lay-figure, or doll, draped in female 
 clothing. 
 
 "Do you," said Dr. Thistlewood, "see anybody try- 
 ing to hide there ? You do? Very good. Who is it?" 
 
 "Mrs. Markham, sir, who used to be housekeeper." 
 
 Dr. Thistlewood pointed to one of the deal tables on 
 which were standing a tumbler and a bottle of water. 
 
 "Sarah," he said, "go over to that table. I've an 
 order to give you presently. Now, Lady Conway, watch. 
 This is a woman who ordinarily would not hurt a fly." 
 He went to the table and poured some water into the 
 tumbler. "Sarah," he said, "take this, and be careful 
 how you hold it. In that tumbler is oil of vitriol. You 
 know what oil of vitriol is. If it touches your skin, it 
 
 181
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 burns it exactly as a hot fire would. If it touches your 
 eyes, it makes them blind forever. The quantity you 
 have in that glass, if thrown over a woman, would kill 
 her. Are you quite aware of that?" 
 
 "Yes, sir," said the woman, holding the tumbler gin- 
 gerly, " I am quite aware of that." 
 
 "Very well, then," said Dr. Thistlewood. "Without 
 spilling a drop, go over to Mrs. Markham and throw the 
 whole of it in her face." 
 
 Keeping the tumbler away from her, and moving with 
 extravagant caution, while Mr. Hugo watched her with 
 a highly critical smile, the woman crossed the room and 
 dashed the water, with a jerk, in the face of the lay- 
 figure. 
 
 "Thank you," said Dr. Thistlewood. "You have 
 burned her up to ashes. There's nobody in the cup- 
 board now. Look Mrs. Markham's gone." 
 
 "Yes, sir," said the woman; "there's nobody in the 
 cupboard now." 
 
 " Well," said Dr. Thistlewood, " that's a good riddance. 
 You've done for her. And now, Sarah, you will go to 
 bed at once. You will sleep quite soundly ; in nine hours 
 you will wake, and you won't have the least remem- 
 brance of having been in this room to-night." 
 
 When the door had closed Dr. Thistlewood turned to 
 Lady Con way. 
 
 "Come," he said. "What's the matter? Would you 
 like a little glass of brandy ? You look as pale as if you 
 had seen a ghost, or as if you took me for a necromancer 
 armed with some diabolic powers. You might just as 
 well take me for a necromancer if I put you to sleep 
 with chloral. That woman, who is very easily hypno- 
 tized, was, when she came into the room, quite unable 
 to see you, because I told her that she would see in it 
 nobody but three gentlemen; but she saw that flower 
 of yours, because I told her that she would see a rose, 
 and that when she saw it she was to take it. Do you 
 think that miraculous, or even what you would call un- 
 
 182
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 canny? My dear lady, consider. You don't see one- 
 half of the things that are in this room yourself. And 
 why don't you see them ? Simply because you don't at- 
 tend to them. The hypnotist, by means of suggestion, 
 is able to produce an artificial and intensified inatten- 
 tion to certain things which he specifies. But it doesn't 
 always require hypnotism to do even as much as this. 
 Once or twice, when I've had the privilege of walking 
 with you in Hyde Park, I've noticed that a number of 
 ladies were totally invisible to yourself. I know a lady, 
 indeed, whose very beautiful cousin, with peculiar au- 
 burn hair, was never seen by her for years, though she 
 stood five feet ten in her stockings, for the simple reason 
 that she had appropriated this lady's admirer." 
 
 "Oh," said Lady Conway, incautiously, "you call her 
 beautiful, do you? Dr. Gustav, you're a fool. You're 
 getting tiresome, and I'm going to say good-night." 
 
 "Instead of that," said Lord Cotswold, "come back 
 into more comfortable quarters. We still have my 
 party to talk about." 
 
 "And I," said Dr. Thistlewood, when they found 
 themselves again in the drawing-room, "will try to put 
 her into a more comfortable frame of mind. You've just 
 seen some things," he continued, "which to your think- 
 ing are odd. Well, it's odd that a drunkard sees snakes 
 in his boots; it's odd that a knock on the head makes 
 a man see stars. The things which you've just seen 
 are only more odd than these because they illustrate 
 facts which have never, till lately, been reduced to a 
 system." 
 
 "I don't," said Lady Conway, "like your experiments 
 one little bit. You were much nicer when you were 
 putting us together instead of taking us to pieces. And 
 now let us come to our senses and talk about Lord 
 Cotswold's party. He must have it on Monday or 
 Tuesday, for on Wednesday I'm going back to Lon- 
 don." 
 
 "Well," said Lord Cotswold, "we will see if we can 
 183
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 manage Monday. On Sunday, if the hour is not ruin- 
 ous to digestion, Dr. Gustav and I are going to hear 
 Mr. Barton preach. I saw it announced in one of the 
 Southquay papers that he is going to deliver the first 
 of a series of sermons on confirmation."
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 SUNDAY morning came, and the air was full again 
 of the sound of distant bells, which stole through 
 the draperies of Miss Vivian's half-open window. Yes- 
 terday afternoon, till the latest possible moment, she 
 had waited for the sound of a door-bell which might have 
 announced Sir Rawlin's coming. But she waited in 
 vain. Sir Rawlin, to say the truth, had begun at the 
 lecture to resent Lady Conway's interference. Her ad- 
 vice, as she gave it, though he realized its substantial 
 wisdom, was, so he felt, developing into a foolish joke; 
 and he resolved that, by avoiding Cliff's End for a day 
 or two, he would deprive her of all excuse for repro- 
 ducing it. 
 
 Exhausted by disappointment, Miss Vivian had risen 
 late and had given up all idea of being present at morn- 
 ing service. Nothing relieved her depression but a short 
 letter from Mr. Barton. Mr. Barton, at all events, was 
 faithful, and did not forget her. He wrote: 
 
 " I could not express in your aunt's drawing-room what I 
 wanted to say to you about the relation between soul and body. 
 Men like Dr. Thistlewood are right in attributing to it a pro- 
 found importance, but men like him put matters upside down. 
 The body is to the soul what the piano is to the pianist. If 
 the piano becomes untuned, the best musician can play nothing 
 but discords. If the strings become quite relaxed, he can play 
 nothing at all. The musician, so far as he can, must keep his 
 own instrument in order; and if God should allow it to be dis- 
 ordered through no fault of ours, then, in extreme cases, we are 
 mad; but we still are in God's hands, and the soul itself is un- 
 touched just as a great pianist would be a great pianist still, 
 though the only instrument within his reach were deprived of 
 
 185
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 its keys or strings. I preach to-morrow evening my first con- 
 firmation sermon. I shall have these matters in view. I trust 
 that you will be there, and I do so for the special reason that 
 my next private talk with you may have to be put off. for a 
 little. In a group of poor cottages between the Turkish Castle 
 and the golf-course there has been an outbreak of some illness. 
 The doctor is not yet certain about it, but if it spreads and proves 
 to be serious I may be occupied in ministering to the sick. So 
 the needs of the body meet us, you see, everywhere." 
 
 As she sat before the looking-glass, while her maid 
 put the last touches to her toilet, the expression of her 
 own face reminded her of an over-intimate diary which 
 her pride forbade her to expose to the scrutiny of other 
 people. Suddenly she made an effort. She asked for 
 her newest hat, with its broad brim and its curving wave 
 of feathers, committed her hands carefully to a delicate 
 pair of gloves, and set out to meet her family, who by 
 this time would be coming back from church. The 
 slight frou-frou of her skirts, in some incongruous way, 
 joined itself in the business of sustaining her to her con- 
 sciousness of Mr. Barton's sympathy; and before she 
 discerned the eminently Sunday-like figures of her aunt 
 and Mr. Carlton advancing slowly across a field she was 
 ready to meet them with an almost elaborate gayety. 
 
 In a correct and Sunday-like fashion Mr. Carlton was 
 gay himself. "My dear Nest," he said, "such music in 
 church such positively divine music! But if you were 
 tired you were quite right not to come. Well, you're 
 rested now. Look at her. She's as fresh as paint." 
 
 "Thank you," said Miss Vivian. "The paint is only 
 just put on." 
 
 "Naughty!" said Mr. Carlton, as he raised a reprov- 
 ing finger. " But listen we've got some news for you. 
 While you were having your beauty-sleep a letter came 
 to Susie from Lord Cotswold, asking us all to go to an 
 impromptu party to-morrow night as ever is. Mr. Bar- 
 ton, whom we saw just for a moment he has been 
 asked also specially asked to give us some sacred 
 
 186
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 music. And you, Miss Minx you, too, have your part 
 cut out for you. Mr. Barton inquired about that, and 
 said that, as the party was small, he would go and play 
 your accompaniments." 
 
 To the girl this news came as a fresh stimulus, and, 
 as often happens when spirits are artificial, her task was 
 now to restrain rather than to maintain hers. She was 
 even able that afternoon in the school-room to indulge 
 gallantly in a laughing encounter with Mr. Hugo, who, 
 having suppressed himself somewhat in the chastening 
 presence of his aunt, now indulged in a postponed ex- 
 hibition of high and majestic seriousness. With a fur- 
 rowed brow, as though the fate of nations depended on 
 him, he was examining some tweezers which formed 
 part of his scientific appliances. 
 
 "Well, Mr. Hugo," said Miss Vivian, "tell us about 
 your last night's adventures." 
 
 " Yes," said Miss Arundel. " Did they give you some 
 nice dessert?" 
 
 Mr. Hugo, without looking at them, smiled a superior 
 smile. "Dr. Thistlewood and I," he said, "were trying 
 a few experiments." Here dropping his tweezers and 
 making a portentous grimace, he succeeded in affixing to 
 one of his eyes a magnifying-glass of the kind used by 
 watch-makers. He took his bottle from a shelf and 
 examined its contents critically. "Ah," he said, "it is 
 just as I knew it would be. Several nuclei have formed 
 themselves and are visible already. Dr. Thistlewood 
 was much interested when I told him of the nature of 
 my work." 
 
 "And when," said Miss Vivian, "is a little Mr. Hugo 
 going to pop out of the top of your bottle?" 
 
 "Nest," said Mr. Hugo, advancing, "do you at all 
 know how you are made up yourself? I'll show you by 
 a drawing. Look this is a portrait of one of your an- 
 cestors. He is called Microgamia Socialis, and he is 
 simply an organic association of so many separate lives. 
 That's how you are made up, and I just as much as you. 
 13 187
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 You are you and I am I and Nina is Nina merely be- 
 cause these lives these little things like bugs are tied 
 together in each of us in rather different ways. And," 
 Mr. Hugo proceeded, "by the methods of hypnosis, by 
 the production of the somnambulistic state, and stimu- 
 lative or inhibitive suggestion, one qualified person can 
 untie these lives in another person, and tie them in a 
 new knot, so that the person becomes quite different, 
 and then one puts him all back again. I incline to be- 
 lieve that, when I was operating last night with Dr. 
 Thistlewood, I must have put Lady Conway uninten- 
 tionally into a rather peculiar psychopathic state, for 
 she told us all, quite out, that she was very much in 
 love with Oswald." 
 
 "What!" ejaculated Oswald, blushing with indignant 
 delight. " What's that nonsense ? If Lady Conway had 
 said such a thing, which of course she didn't, a true man 
 of the world would never think of repeating what a 
 woman let fall by accident. You baby, Hugo!" 
 
 Mr. Hugo, who had intended, when he spoke, to im- 
 press his brother by the important nature of his com- 
 munication, now shifted his ground with considerable 
 mental agility. 
 
 " When the normal interaction of the cerebral centres 
 is perturbed," he said, "the patient often utters the re- 
 verse of what he or she feels. It was the absurdity of 
 the statement, my dear Oswald, not the possible truth 
 of it, which induced me to quote it as a sign that Lady 
 Conway 's condition was abnormal." 
 
 He might have said more had it not been for the con- 
 duct of Miss Vivian, who here burst into a fit of uncon- 
 trolled laughter. 
 
 "Hugo," she said, "please go on. Give us a little 
 more. You and your brain-centres are really too de- 
 lightful Who else is Lady Conway in love with? She 
 was very parsimonious if she only mentioned Oswald." 
 
 Mr. Hugo raised his eyebrows till they almost touched 
 his hair, and moved disdainfully toward the door. 
 
 188
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 "One might," he said, as he opened it, "be almost 
 tempted to think, when one hears you laugh like that, 
 that you, Nest, were the victim of some cerebral in- 
 stability yourself, and that the cells, the neurons, or the 
 ganglia of common-sense had disappeared from the area 
 of your consciousness." 
 
 Mr. Barton, meanwhile, was at the same hour giving 
 to his evening sermon a careful and last revision. One 
 of Miss Vivian's utterances had constantly kept recurring 
 to him: "Whether I shall save my soul or no, neither 
 you can tell nor I." He also remembered her gently 
 mocking question: " Has the honor of Lady Conway's 
 kiss any tendency to unfit me for confirmation?" There 
 seemed to him in these words to be a sort of tragic 
 flippancy, like that of a child straying along the brink 
 of a precipice; and he was conscious, as he thought of 
 her, of a quasi-maternal longing to throw his arms 
 about her and drag her back into safety. But though 
 she was the focus of his solicitude, his solicitude went 
 far beyond her. For him she became the image of all 
 youth, and in the vaguely insidious influences which 
 seemed to be now surrounding her he saw the image of 
 all temptations. The chief of these temptations for him 
 were not those of the flesh. They were those, far more 
 subtle, of a mental tone and temper, which, seducing the 
 soul into moral and spiritual indifference, left it a prey to 
 temptations of all other kinds. Such influences, old as 
 the world itself, had never, he felt, taken a more malig- 
 nant form than that of the semi-materialistic cant which, 
 even when, as in Dr. Thistlewood's case, it shrank from 
 the absurdity of denying that the soul existed, reduced 
 its responsibility to a mere vanishing - point by main- 
 taining that most of its behavior was determined for it 
 by the idiosyncrasies of its mortal body. Such was the 
 tenor of his reflections ; and when he dwelt as a philos- 
 opher on the merely intellectual crudity which betrayed 
 itself in so many phrases in Dr. Thistlewood's lecture, 
 and still more plainly perhaps in the naive arrogance of 
 
 189
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 his conversation, he felt equally able to encounter and 
 overbear him from the pulpit and at Lord Cotswold's 
 party. 
 
 That evening the church was crowded, the congrega- 
 tion comprising an unusual number of men. Miss Viv- 
 ian's overstrained spirits, when she had done with her 
 cousins, had deserted her. Mr. Hugo's science and Os- 
 wald's boyish romance became like a comedy which 
 had wholly lost its savor, and, coming back again sad- 
 ly to the realities of her own condition, she had looked 
 forward, with a sense at once of rest and excitement, to 
 the sound of Mr. Barton's voice. To her it seemed, when 
 she entered the sacred building, that the whole congre- 
 gation was pervaded by an expectation similar to her 
 own. 
 
 Before the service began the whole church was in half 
 obscurity, through which the voice of the organ throbbed. 
 Then the chancel grew starry, as though its lights were 
 seen through tears; and among its lights came a flicker 
 of the white, advancing choir, followed by the stoled 
 priests. The notes of the voluntary died away and 
 ended, and, the nave and aisles being not yet fully 
 illuminated, a hymn was sung in which the choir alone 
 joined. The sound, almost unearthly, performed the 
 office of an incantation, calling all that was spiritual 
 from the depths of the human heart, filling the air with 
 contrition and giving to abjection wings. The same ef- 
 fect was maintained till, the liturgy having been brought 
 to a close, the nave was again darkened. Then two 
 lights, unlit before, were seen shining at a certain 
 elevation in the neighborhood of the chancel arch. 
 These were the lights of the pulpit, and presently they 
 were illuminating a face which the mystical and clair- 
 voyant eyes could not save from being stern and but 
 just saved from being threatening. 
 
 "What shall a man give in exchange for his soul?" 
 This was Mr. Barton's text, which thrilled through the 
 tense silence. He was, he said, going to address himself 
 
 190
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 more directly to those younger members of his congrega- 
 tion who, before long, were to be confirmed. But the 
 truth he was about to insist upon did not concern the 
 young only. It was equally vital to every man and 
 woman who heard him. The object of confirmation, 
 just like that of the Lord's Supper, was to convey to the 
 recipient, from a source outside himself, some strength 
 which would enable him to realize the one true end of his 
 existence. Of the particular kind of strength given to 
 the recipient by confirmation it would be his duty to 
 speak hereafter. This evening he would invite them 
 only to consider the more general question of why any 
 such gift of extraneous strength was important to us. 
 
 " We are all of us human beings," he said, " before we 
 become Christians. Let us ask ourselves, therefore, what 
 this nature of ours, common to us as human beings, is, 
 to which the Church offers her sacraments and which 
 gives those sacraments their meaning." In our present 
 state of existence we were, he said, composite creatures 
 made up of soul and body. He would deal with the 
 body first. That in itself was a composite thing also. 
 We each of us bore witness to this fact every moment 
 in speaking, as we are obliged to do, of the different 
 bodily parts of us my hands, my arms, my legs, my 
 feet, and so forth. The body was composite, not only 
 in the sense that we could separate its parts in thought, 
 but also in the sense that some of its parts could be 
 amputated without destroying it, while if other parts 
 ceased to operate the whole would be destroyed and lost. 
 In what, then, so far as any one of us was concerned, 
 did the practical unity of the living body consist ? There 
 was no one part, even among those commonly called 
 vital, in which any one could for a moment maintain 
 that the living unity centred itself. The heart, for exam- 
 ple, would be lifeless without the head, the head with- 
 out the heart. The human unity of all these various 
 parts consisted in their common relation to a single living 
 self. This arm, this foot, this tongue each belongs to
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 me, because to me, who am separate from each of them, 
 they all severally minister. "I am," said Mr. Barton, 
 "merely repeating here the truth with which the child 
 starts and with which the philosopher ends. And now," 
 he continued, his voice slightly rising, " let us turn from 
 this body, which is mine, to the self or let us say the 
 soul which is me." 
 
 As soon as we did this, he said, we were confronted by 
 a momentous contrast, which only failed to overwhelm 
 us because it was so self-evident and familiar. The 
 body could be divided into its component parts by 
 thought; everybody was ultimately so divided, in fact. 
 But the soul the self was, even in thought, indivisible. 
 "To-day," he said, " I may have two eyes. To-morrow 
 I may have plucked out one. I may seek God to-day. 
 To-morrow I may have turned away from Him. Every- 
 thing in me may change everything but I myself. It 
 is the same I the same enduring centre, that loves, 
 suffers, sins, prays, is blind, sees. And this I, this self, 
 this soul, being thus simple and indivisible, is for that 
 reason, in its very nature, indestructible. It would be 
 out of place here to quote to you the supreme thinkers, 
 from Plato to Descartes, who have been awe-stricken by 
 this fundamental truth. I will only say, adding my 
 voice to theirs, ' Show me the man who can think the 
 annihilation of self, and I will hail him as a new Om- 
 nipotence who could create all the stars of heaven.' We 
 did not ask to be, but, having once been, we can never 
 again not be even though the mountains should fall on 
 us and the sea vainly cover us. 
 
 " We may well, each of us, say," he continued, after a 
 long pause: " ' What a fearful thing the existence of my- 
 self is!' Among the weary toils and troubles that come 
 upon us every day we find comfort in the thought of our 
 pillows, with their gift of soft forgetfulness, or in the 
 peace of resignation which will be ours on abandoning 
 some hopeless struggle. But, in the deeper sense of the 
 words, we shall rest from ourselves never. Self lies 
 
 192
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 upon self like an ever-living coal of fire. It is, indeed, an 
 overwhelming thing to think that I shall be I always 
 that I can never divide myself from myself. And," 
 Mr. Barton continued, "the matter does not end here." 
 The self, he said, must not only remain what it is through 
 an eternity of present moments, but it drags its past 
 after it, like a trail from which it never can free itself, 
 and its past is being fulfilled forever in the qualities of 
 its eternal present. Yes, he said, but even now we had 
 not the whole case before us. Besides being burdened 
 with the past which we call our own, we were burdened 
 also with that of our first ancestor. We all of us, like him, 
 were born desiring peace. We all of us, through his per- 
 verse weakness, had lost the power of gaining it. Thus the 
 natural man unaided was, in the very fact of being a man, 
 his own house of torment from which there was no escape. 
 Here, Mr. Barton went on, we had the general ex- 
 planation of what the sacrament of confirmation did for 
 us. It miraculously resuscitated in us certain powers 
 which had been lost. Of all this he would speak more 
 explicitly in future sermons. He would confine him- 
 self now to a fundamental question which underlay it 
 namely, what in their essence these powers, which re- 
 quired resuscitation, were. They might be described very 
 shortly. They were the powers essential to the integrity 
 of the moral character, and Christ made good the loss 
 which the first Adam has transmitted to us by giving 
 us, as the second Adam, this lost character back again, 
 providing us with a model for our imitation and His 
 continual aid in imitating it. All the sacraments of the 
 Church had for their ultimate object the production of 
 the Christ-like character. "Or," said Mr. Barton, "to 
 bring the matter to a finer point and this is the point 
 to which all along I have been leading you their object 
 is so to redeem and revivify the human will, which is the 
 master of the intellect and the affections, that it shall 
 operate in accordance with the will of the Divine Man, 
 our Saviour. It is only through the exercise of the will, 
 
 193
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 thus mercifully revivified, that you and I can render our 
 own external existence not a terror or a burden to us, 
 but a blessedness a blessedness which, though passing 
 our understandings, is divined dimly by each of us. ' The 
 Spirit and the Bride say, Come ; and let him that heareth 
 say, Come; and let him that is athirst come.' Well," 
 exclaimed the preacher, "might a great poet, who was 
 also a great thinker, say that this human will of ours is 
 the main miracle of existence 
 
 " ' The living will which shall endure 
 
 When all that seems shall suffer shock,' 
 
 and endure with you and with me, for weal or woe, eter- 
 nally. 
 
 "Perhaps I shall be told," he went on, "for the spirit 
 of science is abroad, that I am here encroaching on a 
 science that is called psychology, this being a study of 
 the body through whose mechanism the soul here oper- 
 ates, and I shall be challenged to explain how we Chris- 
 tians acquire any right to speak about it. Christ, so far 
 as we know, delivered no scientific lectures; but all the 
 psychology, whether new or old, which concerns men 
 practically, in relation either to soul or body, is to be 
 found in Christ's teaching. First, as to the body, and 
 a very few words will be enough. If any one thinks that 
 Christ, teaching us through the Church, treats the body 
 with too much contempt, he need but consider the fol- 
 lowing familiar facts. It was through the medium of 
 the body that the redemption of the world was accom- 
 plished. The human body is the medium of the great 
 sacramental mysteries. By the touch of water on our 
 foreheads we become members of Christ. Through our 
 bodily mouths He comes to us in the holy eucharist. 
 Our bodies play their parts in the great mystery of mar- 
 riage. The powers and graces conferred by confirma- 
 tion and ordination come to us from God through the 
 impact of a bishop's hands. Ordination, baptism, and 
 confirmation we shall here find specially significant, for 
 
 194
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 these sacraments can be administered once only to each 
 of us. The tissues of the body are in a state of constant 
 change, and yet their virtue is such that they are the 
 vehicle of gifts or faculties so absolutely enduring that it 
 is no more possible to bestow them a second time than it 
 would be to cut a man's head off if it were cut off already. 
 " Such, then, is the implicit importance which Chris- 
 tian psychology assigns to the human body. What is it 
 that it teaches us about the soul? What it teaches I 
 have set forth already. If the soul the self were not 
 an indestructible entity Christ's work would be mean- 
 ingless. It would be equally meaningless if this self 
 were not master of its own actions. Therefore, the in- 
 destructibility and the responsibility of the self are im- 
 plicitly the fundamental doctrines of the psychology of 
 the Christian Church; and if we are asked for the au- 
 thority which the Church has for teaching them we 
 need not appeal, though we might do so, to the voice of 
 supernatural revelation. We have two other witnesses, 
 purely human, which corroborate, and indeed anticipate, 
 the voice of God. To one of these I have referred al- 
 ready. I mean the voice of the human intellect speak- 
 ing through the world's great thinkers. But the great 
 thinkers are few. There is a greater witness behind 
 them, and this is the corporate voice of the human race 
 at large. What Christ spoke to was a will mysteriously 
 its own master; but had men not known in themselves 
 that such a will existed He would have spoken to deaf 
 ears. As it is, the whole heart of the human race re- 
 sponds to Him, and the divine implication of His mes- 
 sage is repeated by the Church daily, from all her thou- 
 sand confessionals, whether at the bedside or elsewhere. 
 What is the universal language in which the penitent 
 Christian confesses? I have sinned and why have I 
 sinned? Through my fault, through my own fault, 
 through my own most grievous fault. I was master of 
 myself, but my mastery has been used amiss by me; 
 and through my own solitary fault, and through nothing 
 
 195
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 outside myself, have I wounded Him that died for me. 
 In every broken, in every contrite heart in all the un- 
 numbered prayers uttered in sad chambers by men to 
 whom God has given the gift of tears in all spiritual 
 sorrow this same implication lives more vitally than 
 in all philosophies. 
 
 "Oh, eternal spirits to whom I speak, the bodies 
 through which I know your presence, and through which 
 you know mine they are our instruments in this passing 
 life ; sometimes, alas ! they are our impediments ; some- 
 times God makes lutes of them, which sound with the 
 very music of the heavens. Study them if you will. 
 Be duly careful of their health. But you will learn no 
 more about the soul from an examination of their nerves 
 and tissues than you would learn about the quality of 
 a wine by examining the glass that held it. Yes, study 
 the complexities of the corruptible body, if this interests 
 you, but do not forget that, when you confront the 
 destiny which your wills, acting through the corruptible 
 body, shall have prepared for you, the body will have 
 passed away, and your wills and the results of your use 
 of them these two last things will be alone and naked 
 before your God. Christ, using our bodies as the mys- 
 terious vehicles of His sacraments, will strengthen these 
 wills if we apply to Him ; but even so let us remember 
 this our wills remain our own." 
 
 The sermon ended abruptly, and was followed by the 
 announcement of a hymn which was not in the hymnal, 
 but copies of which were now distributed by attendants 
 throughout the church. The result of this unusual pro- 
 ceeding was that, as at the opening of the service, the 
 congregation were mostly silent and the choir alone was 
 audible. The hymn, which was as follows, bore the 
 title, "Each Soul to its God": 
 
 " Lord of light and might, 
 Lord, in star and star 
 Only three things are 
 Living in Thy sight. 
 196
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 " Thou, the Sun, art one, 
 Life of earth and sky, 
 One, my God, am I, 
 Lost, alone, undone. 
 
 " Like me, of the three 
 
 One, my God, are they 
 Other souls who stray 
 Lost and alone like me. 
 
 " Lord, when place and space 
 Are not, and the skies 
 Hold no worlds, and eyes 
 Cease to obscure Thy face; 
 
 " When earth's sun foredone, 
 Like an ended thought 
 Ends, and all is naught, 
 May these three be one."
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 ^ ear Nest," exclaimed Mr. Carlton the following 
 night, as Miss Vivian, arrayed for Lord Cotswold's 
 party, entered the drawing-room, where he was sitting 
 alone before dinner, "come here and let me look at you. 
 Let me feel that stuff all gray clouds and silver. What 
 do you call it? Smoke-color? And the violets ah, 
 how sweet! And the shoes put out the little shoes. 
 And now the feather fan and the gloves all of the same 
 shade. You impertinent little wretch how naughty of 
 you! Do you want to break every one of our poor 
 hearts? But, my dear, turn round to the light. I don't 
 quite approve of those purple streaks under your eyes. 
 Little girls like you must be careful not to overdo them- 
 selves. You've the dress of a French coquette, but 
 you've the eyes of a little, tired-out saint. But cheer 
 up. You needn't look in the glass. All this merely 
 makes you doubly dangerous." 
 
 The party was to begin at ten o'clock. Lady Conway 
 and Sir Rawlin had dined at the Turkish Castle, and 
 dinner, which was somewhat late, was but just drawing 
 to its conclusion when a series of chimes proclaimed that 
 the appointed hour was on them. 
 
 Lord Cotswold had explained that he had got together 
 about forty guests, some of them being Indian or Colo- 
 nial officials and their wives, now domiciled at South- 
 quay, who years ago had been hospitable to him in the 
 course of his many travels, and of whom of the wives 
 especially he entertained grateful recollections. Others 
 were local residents who possessed political influence, or 
 who were, like old Mrs. Summerfield, retired veterans of 
 
 198
 
 the world. Mr. Barton, who, it was hoped, would be the 
 musical hero of the evening, was to be kept in counte- 
 nance by the performances of a small string-band ; and 
 an entertainment which might possibly be even more 
 popular than the music that is to say, an exhibition 
 of moving photographs was to take place in Dr. This- 
 tlewood's big, bare room, Mr. Hugo having been invited 
 to assist, or, at all events, to patronize the operator. 
 
 "Well," said Lord Cotswold, when the clock's last 
 notes had sounded, "Rawlin, Dr. Gustav, and I must 
 have our cigars later. The music will be in the room 
 that opens into the conservatory. We can smoke and 
 be warm under a palm-tree while our clergyman dis- 
 courses music." 
 
 The arrivals soon began, and the string-band in the 
 music-room struck up punctually at the first peal of 
 the door-bell. The company were easy to entertain, as 
 the larger part of them knew one another; and the in- 
 spection of a singular house, which had hitherto been a 
 local mystery, was enough to keep them, as they dis- 
 persed themselves, amused, talking, and occupied. 
 
 In due time came the party from Cliff's End. "My 
 dear," said Lord Cotswold to Miss Vivian, "you are the 
 moon clothed in clouds. I wonder if we can find you 
 an Endymion. We can find you a seat, at all events. 
 Most of my friends have gone on into the music- 
 room." 
 
 The music-room was dimly lighted by a number of 
 colored lanterns, and the general effect was pleasing. 
 Rumors that Mr. Barton was going to play were in cir- 
 culation, but he had not yet arrived; nor did he do so 
 before Lord Cotswold, in order to make up for his ab- 
 sence, had given an order, intrusted to Mr. Hugo, that 
 the moving photographs should be exhibited as a pre- 
 liminary diversion. Most of the guests were trooping 
 in to the exhibition when, full of apologies, the defaulter 
 greeted his host ; and failing in the dimness of the music- 
 room to detect any presence that appealed to him, he 
 
 199
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 adopted his host's suggestion that he should follow the 
 disappearing sight-seers. 
 
 When the last of this band had gone Lord Cotswold 
 heaved a sigh of relief. As he did so he drew out a large 
 cigar-case, and quietly passed through the open window 
 into the conservatory, from the shadowy leafage of which 
 came the murmur of two men's voices. The music-room 
 had, however, been not left entirely empty. Miss Viv- 
 ian, when the exodus began, had remained in a shaded 
 corner ; and she now discovered that she was not wholly 
 alone, but that Lady Conway was facing her, who like- 
 wise had not stirred. 
 
 "Come," said Lady Conway "come and sit down by 
 me. That's right. Now I can talk to you comfortably. 
 Tell me, who made your dress? When I was your age 
 I never had frocks like that. Oh, my dear, what a bore 
 here comes the Church in person, as cross as two 
 sticks at seeing you appropriated by the world! It's 
 you the good man wants. You're one of his pet lambs, 
 I suppose. Music or no music, your Mr. Barton has a 
 very bad, nasty temper. But he sha'n't interrupt us. 
 Mr. Barton for I'm sure it's you, even in this dim 
 religious light now that the band's in abeyance, do 
 sit down and play to us. Play something soft play 
 anything just for our two selves anything," she added 
 to Miss Vivian, "which will prevent his trying to talk 
 to us." 
 
 Mr. Barton, who, after a vain and anxious search, had 
 only found Miss Vivian to find her absorbed in a com- 
 panionship which kept him at a hopeless distance, cer- 
 tainly did exhibit an aspect of painful sternness which 
 excused, if it did not justify, Lady Conway's comments 
 on his temper. Still, to play to the girl, if he could not 
 speak to her, would be something; and his mastery of 
 music, which even Lady Conway recognized, would en- 
 able him there and then to challenge her insidious in- 
 fluence. With a slight bow and with a sufficiently good 
 grace he accordingly seated himself at the piano, whose 
 
 200
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 low and liquid vibrations, as he took some pleasure in 
 noting, reduced this disdainful woman at once to a lis- 
 tening silence. On Lady Conway, however, this effect 
 did not last long. Presently her ear was penetrated by 
 sounds of another kind namely, those of a subdued con- 
 versation proceeding from a group of men who were 
 seated outside the window on the broad steps of the 
 conservatory. A sudden flash in her eyes showed that 
 she had divined its tenor. 
 
 "Mr. Barton," she exclaimed, "don't stop playing, 
 whatever you do. We are only moving in order to hear 
 better. My dear, do you mind coming rather nearer 
 the window? Hush! we'll pull out the curtain. That 
 will shelter you from the draught." 
 
 The voices of those outside were now clearly audible. 
 The music filled the room with its soft, dissolving ca- 
 dences; but Lady Conway saw, as she knew she would, 
 that her companion's ears heard nothing of it. "It's 
 just as well," she said to herself, "that she should real- 
 ize what men are." 
 
 "Civilized women of the different civilized races," Dr. 
 Thistlewood was saying, in quiet, reflective tones, to 
 which the slightest trace of some un-English accent 
 it might have been French or American lent a certain 
 elusive pungency, "differ as much from each other as 
 the languages in which they talk, and as little." 
 
 "Rawlin," said Lord Cotswold, "do you remember 
 the Persian rose-garden and the trickling cistern and 
 the scents and the new moon and our Brahmin our 
 sage from afar who preached to us on the ' Great Sen- 
 tence,' which means that, if we would know ourselves, 
 we must know the divine Infinite, we being all of us 
 modes or passing miniatures of it? Do you remember 
 that, and how you half shocked, half puzzled him by 
 saying, in illustration of his doctrine, that you, when 
 talking to one attractive woman, often forgot that she 
 was not another, the only change being that she had 
 migrated to a different house?" 
 
 201
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 "That seems," replied Sir Rawlin, "an unfeeling thing 
 to have said ; and yet what it means is, in one sense, the 
 essence of all religion. All the great religions tell us to 
 love man as man. This can only mean that we are to 
 love not men, but manhood, which alone gives a similar 
 value to Harry and Tom and Dick. And if this is true 
 about men it is true about women also. What allures 
 us in each individual is not a woman, but womanhood. 
 It is this that we really seek for in Moll, in Meg, or in 
 Marjory." 
 
 "I don't know," said Dr. Thistlewood, "whether you 
 are talking orthodox religion ; but you are, at all events, 
 talking orthodox science. A man has a passion for 
 roses; but his passion does not lose its object with the 
 death of any single flower. As our host here was saying 
 only the other night, the individual women men love 
 are merely so many cups which dip up for them the 
 same mysterious water; and a similar thing is true of 
 the driest scientific experiment. Every experiment must 
 be made on a particular specimen whether of a gas, 
 of a mineral, of blood, or of fermenting beer. But we 
 value the specimen for everything rather than for it- 
 self. Each is only a different eye-piece through which 
 we peer into the same universe." 
 
 "The Buddhists and the Brahmins," said Sir Rawlin, 
 "both preach the same gospel; and here are we, with 
 our white neckties, repeating it. But I doubt if, when 
 it comes to practice, I have quite the courage of my 
 opinions. If the individual woman is nothing more 
 than the cup, still it is the cup alone that enables us to 
 drink the water; and for each of us, only one such cup 
 out of every thousand will hold it. If we find one that 
 will, we should be careful not to break it." 
 
 "That," said Lord Cotswold, putting his hand on Sir 
 Rawlin's shoulder, "is what Dr. Gustav does not see. 
 There are some kinds of experiment which he has never 
 himself tried. If he had he would know how life seems 
 to give the lie to science. But here are our guests com- 
 
 202
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 ing back again, having exhausted the pleasures of pho- 
 tography. Finish your cigars if you like. I shall have 
 to sacrifice mine." 
 
 The three smokers rose. Lord Cotswold and Dr. 
 Thistlewood disappeared at once into the music-room, 
 where Mr. Barton, still the victim of circumstance, be- 
 came a centre of entreaties from his host and from a ring 
 of others that he would not leave the instrument, but 
 would give them what they hoped to hear. He looked 
 around the room for Miss Vivian. He could not see her ; 
 and perforce he resumed his playing. Sir Rawlin re- 
 mained behind, standing just outside the window. Not 
 a yard away from him, partially hidden by a curtain, a 
 figure stirred within, diffusing a faint perfume, and pres- 
 ently stood confronting him. Miss Vivian had supposed 
 him to have passed in with his companions, and was her- 
 self on the point of seeking a seclusion which she took 
 for solitude. On seeing him she slightly started, and 
 made a movement as though she would turn away. 
 
 Sir Rawlin instinctively held out a hand to check her; 
 and there was something in his eyes and manner which 
 she found herself unable to resist. 
 
 "What!" he said, speaking hardly above a whisper. 
 "Are you going to run away from me? It's days since 
 I've seen you days since I've said a word to you. 
 We shall be able to talk in here; or, if you'd rather listen 
 to the music, you shall just sit by me and be silent." 
 
 She seemed to hesitate for a moment, the color mount- 
 ed to her cheeks; then she held out her hand to him, 
 and he led her down the glimmering steps. 
 
 "Till I saw you again," he said, "I hardly knew how 
 I'd missed you. Look, here are two chairs. Have the 
 one with the cushions. That's right. Be comfortable. 
 Well, we can talk at last." 
 
 "Tell me," she answered, "are you sure that I don't 
 bore you ? If that's so, I'll say to you, as I think I must 
 have said to you at the ball, 'Don't talk to me yet.' 
 That's the last thing which I remember saying to you 
 
 *4 203
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 then. Let me listen for a little to the music and get 
 myself ready for a question I want to ask you." 
 
 For a full minute or so they both of them remained 
 silent. Then she turned to him, with her face half hid- 
 den by her fan, and said, softly but carelessly: 
 
 "Mr. Barton plays well, doesn't he?" 
 
 "He is," said Sir Rawlin, "a man of many accom- 
 plishments. Do you like him ?" 
 
 Above the feathers of the smoke-colored fan her eyes 
 showed a faint smile. 
 
 "Yes," she answered, "enormously. Taken in con- 
 junction with a piano, Mr. Barton is I wonder if you'd 
 understand if I tried to explain myself by a simile." 
 
 "Try me," he answered. "Let me hear what your 
 simile is." 
 
 " In conjunction with what I spoke of," she continued 
 " I mean a piano or an organ Mr. Barton is a cup 
 which dips up very beautiful music. I'm not sure now 
 whether I won't keep my question to myself." 
 
 " You must," said Sir Rawlin, abruptly, " do so for the 
 moment, at all events. Listen. There are people com- 
 ing. Suppose we go somewhere else. At the far end of 
 the conservatory is a smoking-room in a round tower. 
 We sha'n't be interrupted there." 
 
 The girl had risen almost as quickly as he had; and 
 they were soon making their way along a lane between 
 banked flowers, while on one side through glass, which 
 was partially dimmed by moisture, came the shinings 
 of the moon and sea. Lady Conway, on the evening 
 when she had made her inspection of the premises, had 
 observed correctly that here was a place for lovers. 
 
 " You heard, then," said Sir Rawlin, presently, " what 
 we were talking about as we sat smoking?" 
 
 "Some of it," the girl replied. "My question has to 
 do with that. Wait till I ask it. I'm not going to ask 
 it yet. Stand still and look. Does this remind you of 
 nothing? It's like that place at the ball, where I lost 
 myself in that stupid dream ; and Lady Conway do you 
 
 204
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 remember, for I'm rather vague about it myself sud- 
 denly came in meddling, as if we were two children. 
 She's a kind of woman who wants to have everybody to 
 herself. Good Heavens, what a startling eclipse! That 
 didn't happen at the ball. One would think that the 
 moon had been blown out like a candle." 
 
 "That's odd," said Sir Rawlin. "The night seemed 
 clear enough. Let us go to the window in the tower. 
 There we shall see better what's actually happening." 
 
 The door of the tower was open, and firelight shone 
 within. Facing them was a large window, giving access 
 to a seaward balcony. They stationed themselves by its 
 ample panes, and looked out on a scene which charmed 
 them by its visionary wildness. The sea lay before them, 
 a moving floor of waters. The moon was by this time 
 wholly lost to sight; and masses of travelling cloud, the 
 conformations of which were vaguely distinguishable, had 
 already half covered the sky with their slowly moving, 
 noiseless wings. 
 
 "'If you and I were outside in the dimness," said the 
 girl, at last, " I should hardly see you as clearly as I did 
 when you helped me to steady myself in the mist. But 
 I shouldn't have to trouble you with that kind of steady- 
 ing now. Everything changes don't you think it does ? 
 There's one question for you, though it is not the one I 
 meant." 
 
 "Let me," said Sir Rawlin, "hear the one that you 
 did mean. I'll do my best to answer it. My inclination 
 is to say too much to you rather than too little." 
 
 " Come, then," she said, taking him gently by the coat, 
 while she looked at him with a smile which at first made 
 him doubt her seriousness, " tell me just this. Do men 
 really think of women as wineglasses, which they put to 
 their lips, drink from, and then throw away behind them ? 
 Is that what happens? Is that what men mean by 
 kisses ? I should very much like to know. ' ' 
 
 "My dear," said Sir Rawlin, slowly, "you must never 
 let a simile run away with you. Still, if you keep to this 
 
 205
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 one, which was not my own, but Dr. Thistlewood's, you 
 shall have my sincere answer. Should a man know 
 that, if he drank from one of these delicate vessels, it 
 might, owing to his nature or his circumstances, drop 
 from his hand afterward, he had better remain thirsty 
 and not drink at all. This is a hard saying. One only 
 learns its truth from experience." 
 
 " If I were the glass," said Miss Vivian and her eyes 
 were now cast down " and if I found myself being treat- 
 ed like that, I should feel not that I was being taken care 
 of, but that I was not worth being lifted. But you know 
 better than I do yes, for you have had experience 
 by which you mean many experiences just as you have 
 seen many countries; and I dare say you have broken 
 and thrown away many things. Isn't that so ? I think 
 it must be, for look do you know what you are doing 
 now? If you don't go away, or if I don't, you'll have 
 broken my flowers presently my poor, unfortunate vio- 
 lets. How dark they look! See, by this light they are 
 almost black. No matter. You may break them if you 
 like" 
 
 But her words ended in a gasp. At that moment, and 
 for a flickering moment only, Sir Rawlin's face to her, 
 and her face to him, seemed to have been transfigured 
 into a mask of illuminated alabaster, and a pennon of 
 blinding fire had shaken itself across the night outside. 
 The next thing Sir Rawlin knew was that her face was 
 hidden on his shoulder, and the beating of her heart was 
 as audible to him as if it had been his own. Then, after a 
 breathless silence, came a crackle and a roar of thunder, 
 so long and loud that the window-frames and the floor 
 trembled. 
 
 Sir Rawlin, remembering what he had seen before, 
 had been conscious for a moment of nothing but a fear 
 that the girl might faint, and of an urgent anxiety of a 
 common-sense kind as to the consequences. Something, 
 however, told him that this precise result was unlikely. 
 When the thunder began she had clung to him yet more 
 
 206
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 closely, but the manner in which she did so showed him 
 that she was not losing her strength. 
 
 "Nest," he said to her, not pausing to choose his 
 words " Nest, my dearest child, come back to the mu- 
 sic-room. You won't see the lightning, and you'll hardly 
 hear the thunder there." But he felt that his suggestion 
 met with curiously small approval. Her laces brushed 
 his hands. The scent of her violets, which were now 
 being bruised indeed, faintly touched his nostrils. Then, 
 as he could not extricate himself, his face bent slowly 
 down toward her, and she was aware that a kiss had 
 formed itself as his lips just brushed her hair. At that 
 instant came a second flash, which seemed to have licked 
 the window-panes, and the thunder followed after barely 
 a second's interval. "Come," he repeated "come in- 
 side at once. It is madness to wait here longer mad- 
 ness for many reasons. What, my child, won't you do 
 as I ask you ? Nest, do you know this ? I have dreamed 
 of you every night." 
 
 At last she looked up at him, her head thrown slightly 
 back. He felt the momentary pressure of her deep- 
 drawn, happy sigh, and her eyes, dim and glimmering 
 with a new appeal, were expectant. 
 
 "I, too, have dreamed," she said. "I have dreamed 
 of this of this. I was dreaming of this when I was 
 trying to paint the sea." 
 
 These last words, which were a whisper, seemed to 
 lose themselves in a blue-white blaze, accompanied by 
 a crash quite close to them, like that of an exploding 
 shell. The floor and the walls shook, and a pane of 
 glass was shivered. For a moment they were both be- 
 wildered by the sound, the flame, the shock. The room 
 was rilled with dust and an odd, sulphurous odor. Sir 
 Rawlin, quickly recovering himself, looked first toward 
 the window, then at the girl whose hand was now grip- 
 ping his. To his astonishment she was smiling calmly. 
 
 "Well," she said, "after all, we are still alive, or I 
 think we are." 
 
 207
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 "Do you know," said Sir Rawlin, "what has hap- 
 pened? The lightning has struck the balcony. It has 
 twisted the rails, and a bit of the stone has fallen. Now, 
 positively and with no more nonsense, you must go." 
 
 He wound his arm round her waist, with the effect very 
 nearly of carrying her, and hurried her back through 
 the narrow passage of the conservatory. They neither 
 of them lost their wits, however, for by the time they 
 had reached the steps which would bring them back to 
 the music -room their bearing was beyond reproach 
 not only his, but hers. She had skilfully patted her vio- 
 lets into something like their pristine order, and con- 
 trived, with possibly more success than he, to enter 
 as though nothing unusual had happened except the 
 storm. 
 
 Her companion was lost in wonder at her singular self- 
 possession; but he noticed as she sat down, which she 
 did, at his suggestion, on the first chair that presented 
 itself, that her limbs had begun to tremble. 
 
 "I must," he said, "tell Lord Cotswold about the ac- 
 cident that has befallen his outworks." 
 
 "Do," she said, smiling, "find him. I am perfectly 
 happy here." 
 
 Their entrance had been unnoticed, as had probably 
 been their absence also; for the storm, which had in- 
 terrupted Mr. Barton in his triumphant rendering of a 
 mass, had constituted a more moving performance than 
 the finest piano-playing in the world. 
 
 Lord Cotswold, catching sight of Sir Rawlin, came 
 toward him with an odd glitter in his eyes. 
 
 "This is nearly as fine," he said, "as what you and 
 I witnessed once among the mounds of Babylon, with 
 nothing but a tent to protect us. We had, my dear fel- 
 low, no lightning-conductors there. We had to take 
 our chance, and we enjoyed it." 
 
 "I don't want to frighten your company," said Sir 
 Rawlin, lowering his voice, "but you must, I think, have 
 taken your conductors on trust. A bit of the balcony 
 
 208
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 of your smoking-room window is gone. I was close by 
 when it happened." 
 
 "Then my landlord," said Lord Cotswold, placidly, 
 "must bear the loss of his balcony better than I, my 
 dear Rawlin, should have borne the loss of you." 
 
 A plaintive voice interrupted them. It was Lady 
 Susannah Lipscombe's. 
 
 "Sir Rawlin," she said, "can you tell me what's be- 
 come of Nest? I can't see her anywhere. You know 
 what makes me anxious." 
 
 "You needn't be anxious," he answered. "I had 
 taken her to see the conservatory just when the storm 
 broke. There she is, and you'll find her as calm as 
 you are." 
 
 Lady Susannah hastened to the girl's side. Lord 
 Cotswold's eyes followed her. 
 
 "If the shepherdess is frightened, as the aunt seems 
 to suppose, she's the first shepherdess I've seen who 
 could make fright ornamental. Another flash did you 
 see it ? And now wait for the thunder. Hark ! it was a 
 long time coming. The storm's drifting away from us. 
 Listen again. That's rain. Well, since our friends are 
 no longer in danger, they will be brave enough to enjoy 
 hearing how close the danger has been." 
 
 The news of the catastrophe proved to be highly popu- 
 lar, and one or two adventurous spirits, headed by Mr. 
 Hugo, who felt from his intimate knowledge of it that 
 the lightning of it was a sort of cousin of his own, set out 
 to inspect the havoc with a pleasant sense of intrepidity. 
 Mr. Barton, meanwhile, who had again been searching 
 for Miss Vivian, having now seen her, and having seen, 
 too, that she had no other company than her aunt's, 
 made his way toward her with an eagerness which he 
 could ill restrain. By the time he had reached her she 
 had risen, and, with no signs of discomposure other than 
 a slight impatience, was affecting to pull up her long 
 gloves over her elbows, which, as a matter of fact, they 
 showed no inclination to leave. 
 
 209
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 "My dear," her aunt was saying to her, "you're sure 
 that you feel quite well?" 
 
 "Perfectly," the girl answered. "I'm only a little 
 restless. I feel as if I must walk about." 
 
 "Will you," said Mr. Barton, "take a turn about the 
 room with me?" 
 
 "There's nothing in the world," she answered, "that 
 I should like less. I beg your pardon. I hardly knew 
 what I was saying. Come, Mr. Barton yes, stroll with 
 me round the room, as you said. I would sooner walk 
 than talk." 
 
 Mr. Barton was overjoyed to secure her, let the terms 
 be what they might. The scantiness of the furniture 
 rendered walking easy, and the company, though some 
 had by this time gone in to supper, was still sufficiently 
 numerous to render it not conspicuous. Their wander- 
 ing tete-a-tete had not, however, lasted long when it met 
 with an interruption which jarred on Mr. Barton's nerves 
 as one of the most affronting and unpardonable kind 
 conceivable. Dr. Thistlewood, who had been for some 
 time missing, entered the room in haste, and without any 
 apology for his intrusiveness instantly came up to them. 
 
 "Mr. Barton," he began, "I have something special 
 to say to you." 
 
 Mr. Barton bowed stiffly. 
 
 Dr. Thistlewood, however, taking no note of his man- 
 ner, had turned to Miss Vivian with a glance that 
 searched her face. 
 
 "What is this?" he said. "Has the thunder upset 
 your nerves a little ? It often does that to some people. 
 You stay here, young lady, and I'll speak to you in an- 
 other moment." 
 
 Mr. Barton's face had grown more and more severe. 
 "Well, sir," he said, "what is it?" 
 
 "I want to tell you," said Dr. Thistlewood, "that in 
 one of the cottages over the hill there's a woman in the 
 act of dying. I've been with her for the last half-hour. 
 The parish doctor was engaged. My remedies and ad- 
 
 210
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 vice have already done all they can. She is anxious to 
 receive yours, which I trust may be more effectual. The 
 case is not infectious, and you needn't be afraid of the 
 rain. It was stopping as I re-entered the house. If it 
 weren't that this young lady would be the better for a 
 little attention, I would have walked there with you 
 myself. As it is, I will join you shortly. Redmond the 
 woman's name is. My servant, who will show you the 
 way, is at the door with a little case for you. It con- 
 tains everything that is necessary for the administra- 
 tion of your last sacraments." 
 
 Mr. Barton was completely taken aback. His lip 
 quivered. He went through some obvious struggle. 
 Then his expression changed, and, offering Dr. Thistle- 
 wood his hand, "I thank you," he said, "for being a 
 messenger and also an example of duty to me." And 
 turning on his heel he went. 
 
 "And now," said Dr. Thistlewood to Miss Vivian, "do 
 you mind my having a little talk with you ?" 
 
 "Not in the least," she answered, with a slight, in- 
 voluntary shiver. " I don't know why I did that. I'm 
 sure I haven't caught a chill. Yes, Dr. Thistlewood, 
 talk. I think it would be a rest to hear you. Where 
 shall we go? I'll go anywhere you like to tell me." 
 
 "I knew," he said, "that day when you sang at tea 
 to us, and when for a moment you felt that you were 
 going to sleep I knew that your influenza had left some 
 trace behind it. Nerves, nerves we are all of us made 
 up of nerves. I've a little den of my own here, which 
 leads out of that passage. Shall we go in there for a 
 minute or two? It will do you good to rest." 
 
 She accompanied him with the docility of a child, and 
 they entered a small sitting-room furnished with com- 
 fortable chairs. 
 
 "There," said Dr. Thistlewood, soothingly, "sit down 
 by the fire. We won't talk about health. Your own 
 doctor must do that. Let us talk about imagination. 
 I should think you were very imaginative." 
 
 211
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 "Am I?" she said, indifferently. "Why do you tell 
 me that?" 
 
 "I mean," said Dr. Thistlewood, "that, if an idea is 
 suggested to you, it is often sufficiently vivid to affect 
 you in some practical way. For instance, when I spoke 
 to you about not going to sleep, you woke up at once, 
 and the little passing weakness cured itself. But we're 
 not going to be medical. When I speak about your im- 
 agination now, what I mean is that, if one mentions or 
 describes an object to you, your mind or imagination 
 conjures up for you an almost visible image of it. Here 
 now is a book a Bradshaw, with a red leather cover, 
 on which are three blots of ink. My impression is that 
 if I told you to think of this afterward you would, much 
 more clearly than nine people out of ten, see a mental 
 image of this blotted book before you. You don't think 
 there's much in that. No but highly suggestible imag- 
 inations can sometimes do more that those who possess 
 them are aware of. Suppose we try; and if you fancy 
 I am playing you a trick well, you must catch me out. 
 Here's the book, then. Look at it. Now close both 
 your eyes, and when you open them you will find that 
 the book has disappeared." 
 
 With a faint smile of resignation she closed her eyes 
 as directed, murmuring as she did so : 
 
 "This is like some game of a school-boy's. Don't do 
 anything disagreeable. Don't put something nasty in 
 my mouth." 
 
 " Now," said Dr. Thistlewood, the book being still held 
 out to her, "open your eyes. Where is the Bradshaw 
 now?" 
 
 "I don't know," she replied. "You have hidden it 
 away somewhere. Anybody could have done that." 
 
 "What do you think," he said, "that I am doing with 
 my right hand?" 
 
 " It looks to me," said the girl, "as if you were pretend- 
 ing to hold something with it. Oh, I understand you now. 
 You want to see if I can imagine that the book's there." 
 
 212
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 Dr. Thistlewood laughed. "Well," he said, "put 
 out your hand and feel. Is my hand only pretending? 
 Do your fingers feel nothing solid?" 
 
 Miss Vivian started. "Yes," she said, "they seem to 
 be touching a book, but I see only empty air. Perhaps 
 if I'd not my gloves on " 
 
 But Dr. Thistlewood interrupted her. "Never mind 
 about the gloves," he said. "Just stay quiet and watch 
 me. The book is in my right hand still. I am going to 
 transfer it to my left. As soon as my left hand has hold 
 of it you will see it again as large as life." 
 
 "Yes," said Miss Vivian, "that's perfectly true. I 
 see it. But this is all a trick, and I can't guess tricks to- 
 night. I should like to sleep for five minutes. I wish 
 I was in my own bed." 
 
 "Well," said Dr. Thistlewood, kindly, "I won't trouble 
 you any more. Yes, go to sleep for a minute or two. 
 It's the best thing you can do. I'll speak to Lady Susan- 
 nah, and when the carriage is ready I'll come back for 
 you." 
 
 When he found himself again in the music-room the 
 company was fast dispersing, and Lady Susannah and 
 Mr. Carlton, both of them in some agitation, were in- 
 quiring of Sir Rawlin if he knew where Miss Vivian was. 
 
 "I'm afraid," said Dr. Thistlewood, coming up to her, 
 "that in a natural and a quite unalarming way Miss 
 Vivian is beginning to feel what she didn't seem to feel 
 at first I mean the shock caused by the lightning when 
 it happened to hit the house. Don't be anxious. I con- 
 gratulate you on your young lady's courage. Only self- 
 restraint is an effort, and the effort has had the happy 
 effect of tiring her. At the present moment she is sound 
 asleep in my study. The best thing will be, if we can 
 manage it, to get her quietly home without waking her 
 and have her put straight to bed. I suppose you have 
 two carriages. I will order one of them, if you'll let me, 
 to come round to the private door and we'll get her into 
 it without any fuss or trouble. If you wouldn't mind 
 
 213
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 going home with her yourself now, the rest of your party 
 can come on when it suits them. I see a young man of 
 yours there, who is sitting down to a game of cards." 
 
 Dr. Thistlewood exhibited such masterly promptitude 
 that, before five minutes were over, his arrangements 
 were all complete. The side door was not far from his 
 sitting-room, and he himself, carrying the girl as though 
 she were no more than a feather, had placed her in the 
 carriage, her sleep being quite unbroken. 
 
 "She's very light," he said to Lady Susannah. "Your 
 own servants I noticed that you have a stalwart foot- 
 man will have no difficulty in getting her to her own 
 room. The longer she can sleep the better. I will call 
 or send to-morrow to hear of her complete recovery." 
 
 "Tell me," said Lord Cotswold, when Dr. Thistlewood 
 appeared again, "what's all this? I hope there's noth- 
 ing really the matter with her." 
 
 Dr. Thistlewood explained what had happened, and 
 assured him that there was nothing to be alarmed about. 
 
 " If I," said Lady Conway, looking up from the card- 
 table, at which she had begun to give Oswald his first 
 lesson in piquet " if I had been at that window I should 
 have been frightened out of my life. I envy young 
 people whom a thunderbolt merely puts to sleep at bed- 
 time. Oswald, my dear boy, you're incorrigible. Fancy 
 playing a card like that! It strikes me forcibly that, 
 unless this narcotic tempest is going to make all of us 
 sleep on Lord Cotswold's chairs and sofas, we had better 
 be following Miss Vivian's example, and taking ourselves 
 back to our own lawful pillows. My dear Dr. Gustav," 
 she continued, "why that hat in your hand and that 
 gray coat over your arm ? Has your own lawful pillow 
 suddenly ceased to be enough for you ?" 
 
 Dr. Thistlewood, who was actually carrying with him 
 both these articles of attire, looked at Lady Conway 
 with a sort of contemptuous friendliness. 
 
 " Your penetration," he said, " does you credit. I am 
 going, as you guess, to a pillow that is not my own the 
 
 214
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 pillow of a woman who is dying, if she is not already 
 dead. Next to the manner in which human beings live, 
 the most interesting thing to me is the manner in which 
 they die. I hope to be in time to witness the application 
 of the priest's anaesthetics, which in some cases, though 
 not in all, give more relief than ours."
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 HAD the lightning struck Sir Rawlin and reduced 
 him to a scorched cripple, his consciousness of hav- 
 ing suffered some staggering and incalculable disaster 
 could hardly have been greater than it was the following 
 morning. He was loaded with a sense that in one un- 
 guarded moment a moment in which his own conduct 
 had been wrenched out of his hands by circumstances 
 he had taken a step which even yet he could hardly 
 grasp as real. Lady Conway, so he told himself, had 
 been absolutely right from the first. In spite of her 
 warnings, in spite of his own caution, he had put himself 
 in a position from which, alike in his own eyes and those 
 of all reasonable people, he could only emerge as an 
 object either of ridicule or contemptuous condemnation. 
 To marry this girl who was less than half his age, and to 
 whom, though the thought of her even now made a deep 
 appeal to him, he could never be a true companion except 
 as a life-long tour de force to marry her would be an 
 experiment foredoomed to grotesque disaster. And yet, 
 having held her in his arms, in what way could he meet 
 her again, unless he were prepared, as Lady Conway had 
 put it, to satisfy the expectations he had so madly per- 
 mitted himself to raise ? 
 
 There was, however, one duty which he certainly could 
 not neglect a duty which was simple and immediate. 
 Miss Vivian's indisposition, though nobody had made too 
 much of it, had at least been sufficient to demand that, 
 in the course of the morning, he should send to Cliff's 
 End, or else call there, to inquire if she were quite re- 
 covered. Resolving to grasp his nettle, he chose the 
 
 216
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 latter alternative. He went as early as possible, in the 
 hope that he would thus see nobody but a servant, and 
 would yet at the same time be exhibiting a due solicitude. 
 Comparing his present with his previous journeys to the 
 house, he now felt like a criminal who was going to his 
 own execution. 
 
 Fate, however, had some relief in store for him. While 
 the butler, in answer to his inquiries, was giving him 
 the comfortable information that slight overfatigue was 
 Miss Vivian's only malady such was Dr. Thistlewood's 
 verdict and that she still was sound asleep, Dr. This- 
 tlewood himself appeared, accompanied by Lady Susan- 
 nah, who, smiling with quiet satisfaction, was thanking 
 him for his help and counsel. 
 
 "Well," said Dr. Thistlewood, when, after a little con- 
 versation on the doorstep, he and Sir Rawlin went down 
 the drive together, " I don't think we need trouble our- 
 selves much about our charming young lady this time. 
 The probability is that when she wakes up and it will 
 be a capital thing for her if she sleeps the whole day 
 through she'll quite have forgotten the storm and every- 
 thing else connected with it. Retrograde amnesia 
 that's what some doctors call it is, in constitutions 
 like hers, a very common occurrence. She'll merely 
 remember that she went to Lord Cotswold's party; 
 that she talked to you at the beginning of it; that she 
 listened to Mr. Barton's playing; and that somehow she 
 went to sleep in a corner, and was taken home to her 
 bed; and the matter will end there." 
 
 Had the skies at midnight opened and poured down a 
 flood of sunlight, the aspect of the world for Sir Rawlin 
 could not have been more changed. He felt like a man 
 who has been roused from a portentous nightmare. So 
 great was his relief that he dared not trust himself to 
 speak. But his caution was unnecessary. Dr. Thistle- 
 wood's thoughts already had taken a new direction. 
 
 " By-the-way, last night," he said, " I got back just in 
 time to see our friend Mr. Barton engaged in his proper 
 
 217
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 work. Any one is impressive who really believes what 
 he preaches; and the old woman, who I shrewdly suspect 
 was a Catholic, could not have made a better ending had 
 he been one of her own priests. I had thought of going 
 this morning to have a look at those cottages by day- 
 light." 
 
 "The ground," said Sir Rawlin, "on which they stand 
 is mine. They are leaseholds, and I've no authority; 
 but I'll go with you myself, and we'll consider what 
 ought to be done. The only two acts we are certain not 
 to regret are to avoid giving pain and to alleviate it." 
 
 "Alleviate it when you can," said Dr. Thistlewood; 
 "when you can't, don't be disturbed by it. In those 
 two commandments lie all the law and the prophets. I 
 shouldn't wonder if we found our priest at the cottages." 
 
 This conjecture proved correct. Sir Rawlin and Dr. 
 Thistlewood found him there when they reached the 
 spot, just emerging from the cottage of the woman who 
 had died last night. His priestly manner was for the 
 time in abeyance. He was the cool, practical man, with 
 some knowledge of domestic engineering. He informed 
 the new-comers that already a sanitary inspector had 
 been summoned by him, and was making, indeed, at that 
 moment, a house-to-house visitation ; and he went on to 
 say that matters were not so bad as they might have 
 been, though the condition of the drains was in many 
 respects a standing danger. Then the conversation was 
 effectually changed in tone by Dr. Thistlewood 's observ- 
 ing to him, as a thing which he might be glad to hear, 
 that Miss Vivian's breakdown last night was merely a 
 passing trifle, and that to-morrow, or at least in a day or 
 two, she would be just as well as she ever was. 
 
 Mr. Barton had forgotten the words indeed, at the 
 time they were spoken he had noted them only as an 
 interruption which Dr. Thistlewood last night had ad- 
 dressed to Miss Vivian in his hearing; and he learned 
 now for the first time that she had ended the evening 
 otherwise than in her normal health. The slight sense 
 
 218
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 of resentment and the keen sense of anxiety which the 
 behavior of the girl at the party had not failed to produce 
 in him at once gave way to a solicitous and protecting 
 pity; and having learned that this fragile life was now 
 sleeping peacefully, he departed conscious of emotions 
 which failed to be peaceful likewise only because hopes 
 were mixed with them too tender to be closely scruti- 
 nized. Sir Rawlin was still fretted by the thought of 
 his own late conduct, and was not even yet easy with 
 regard to its possible consequences. Mr. Barton's lot 
 even now was indeed much happier than his, and before 
 the next day was over it was destined to be happier 
 still. 
 
 That same afternoon he made his inquiries at Cliff's 
 End, indulging in some faint hope that he might see the 
 invalid in person. This hope was unrealized, but he did 
 see Lady Susannah; and what Lady Susannah told him 
 thrilled him far more profoundly than anything he could 
 have dreamed of hearing from the lips of the invalid 
 herself. Miss Vivian, he learned, had slept till an hour 
 ago. She had awoke refreshed and placid, and suffering 
 from nothing but some sense of exhaustion. Her only 
 recollections of the party seemed to be that Mr. Barton 
 had played at it; that while talking to him afterward 
 she had suddenly felt faint; and that then, somehow or 
 other, she had gone to sleep in a chair. She was ap- 
 parently much relieved to find that she had caused no 
 disturbance, and especially that in Mr. Barton's presence 
 she had done or said nothing unusual. 
 
 '"When is he coming again to talk to me about con- 
 firmation?' That," said Lady Susannah, "is a question 
 which she has just asked twice. You and the question 
 of confirmation seemed to be uppermost in her mind; 
 and if she's well enough to-morrow afternoon, and you 
 happened to be not otherwise engaged, I really think that 
 to see you would be the best thing for her that could 
 happen." 
 
 Here was news which transcended Mr. Barton's wild- 
 is 219
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 est hopes, and which gave them for the first time the 
 outlines of some defined form. The perplexing vacilla- 
 tions which he had come to suspect in her nature be- 
 tween the interests represented by himself, and others 
 connected with some alien mystery of existence, was 
 ending at last in a victory for the soul and God. Though 
 her feet might at times fail her, though her gaze might 
 be at times diverted, her inmost wish and will were to 
 seek that narrow path up which, with the aid of God, 
 his own hands might guide her. "Theophilus," his 
 Lord seemed to say to him, "lovest thou Me more than 
 these?" And before he had time to answer, the Divine 
 Voice continued: "If thou lovest Me, feed My lambs." 
 
 He was still full of thoughts like these when the hour 
 appointed came, which was to confirm him in his con- 
 fidence that he alone had read her truly, and make his 
 own nature blossom into a wonder which he hardly rec- 
 ognized as himself. Shortly before five on the follow- 
 ing afternoon he almost ran down the road from his own 
 house to Cliff's End, prepared for what was waiting him, 
 though not even then prescient of it. 
 
 He was shown into the drawing-room, where Lady 
 Susannah, who was at tea, offered him a cup which he 
 accepted, but could not force himself to swallow. 
 
 "My niece," she said, "will be very much pleased to 
 see you; but be careful not to excite her, for she's rather 
 pulled down still. I have had to-day two telegrams 
 one from her parents, and one from her old physician, 
 Dr. Gonteau, and they both beg that, if possible, she may 
 be placed under the advice of Dr. Thistlewood ; and Dr. 
 Thistlewood, who was with her not long before you came, 
 says that no visitor not even an old friend like you 
 ought to stay with her this afternoon for more than 
 twenty minutes. Perhaps you won't mind coming into 
 my boudoir. Nest is in there. I'll take you to her now 
 if you are ready." 
 
 Mr. Barton rose at once, and followed her with a beat- 
 ing heart. "Ah," said Lady Susannah, as she opened 
 
 220
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 the boudoir door, "she must have gone up to her room. 
 Wait, and I'll send her down to you." 
 
 Mr. Barton, who accordingly found himself left alone 
 with Lady Susannah's dim, small-patterned chintzes, her 
 china on rosewood whatnots, and a copy of his own 
 parochial magazine on the green velvet cloth of an other- 
 wise bare table, began to be conscious of a hollowness 
 underneath his waistcoat, and a sense that he hardly 
 knew what was about to happen or what he wished to 
 happen. For a moment he thought it would simplify 
 things if they were only to talk about the weather, or if 
 he were to make his escape on the pretence that he 
 could wait no longer. 
 
 At last Miss Vivian entered. She was dressed in 
 a rose-colored tea-gown softened by mysterious laces, 
 which emphasized by a subtle contrast the ivory white- 
 ness of her arms. Pale though she was, and exhibiting 
 signs of lassitude, Mr. Barton felt himself almost aghast 
 at her beauty and the careless erectness of her carriage. 
 The sight of him seemed to please her, and she offered 
 him a friendly though a somewhat languid hand. 
 
 "It's so nice of you," she said, "to take pity like this 
 on my solitude. I'm afraid you'll find me rather a 
 washed-out rag. Will it fidget you if I walk about a 
 little? I suppose that, having had more than my due 
 share of rest, I am paying for it now by an undue share 
 of restlessness." 
 
 Mr. Barton besought her to walk about as she pleased. 
 "I know myself," he said, "what it is to be restless, but 
 I do trust that you are not suffering otherwise." He 
 thought of the occasions on which he had called her 
 "my dear child." He now felt that the smallest inti- 
 macy in addressing her was no less impossible than it 
 would have been had this girl been a reigning sovereign. 
 
 "Oh no," she answered. " Otherwise I'm right enough. 
 Thank you very much for asking." 
 
 With awkward and half-hearted attempts to disguise 
 an increasing shyness, he put to her some further ques- 
 
 221
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 tions relating to the merest trifles, for he divined that 
 an abrupt approach to any serious topic was imprac- 
 ticable; but her answers, though there was nothing un- 
 friendly in them, amounted to little more than one or 
 two listless words. He began to fear at last that any 
 conversation in her present state might be too much for 
 her, and he was beginning to regard her with a pang of 
 disappointed sympathy, when he found that his timid 
 observations met with no response at all. He looked at 
 her with a sharpened attention. By this time she had 
 ceased to walk. She was leaning against a cabinet op- 
 posite to him, her head slightly bent and her hand shad- 
 ing her eyes, as though she were absorbed in thought 
 and were hardly conscious of his presence. A growing 
 fear overtook him that she was possibly about to faint; 
 but suddenly, to his surprise and pleasure, came a marked 
 and reassuring change. With some effort of will it seem- 
 ed that she had pulled herself together, and once again 
 she began to return his look. But the change, Mr. Bar- 
 ton became aware, had not ended here. Apathy he 
 could not be deceiving himself had given place in her 
 to personal interest, and a light had come into her eyes, 
 or the suggestion of a light, which he knew that he must 
 long have dreamed of, but which never till this moment 
 had he seen in them when they met his own. 
 
 Mr. Barton felt as if the room were beginning to turn 
 round. This light, this ineffable light, grew more and 
 more unmistakable appealing, tender, and yet with a 
 vague reproach in it. She moved toward the fire and 
 sank quietly into a chair, motioning to him to be seated 
 also. 
 
 " I suppose," she said, speaking in a low, soft tone, 
 " that women hardly know what feelings are really deep- 
 est in them for sometimes one feels one thing, some- 
 times another. Do you know, I have so often doubted, 
 I have been swayed this way and that. But events take 
 us at unawares, and then it all comes out. I was sure 
 that you would come back to me. After all you have 
 
 222
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 said to me here you know what I mean I was sure 
 that you, from the very first time you saw me, did take 
 a real personal interest in me yes, and I in you." 
 
 "I take more interest in you," said Mr. Barton, in 
 words that came out slowly, each word trembling like 
 a leaf " in you, in your own self, in your own sacred 
 soul oh, my beloved one than I have ever no, I can't 
 express it. Look at me. Look at me. Look at me. 
 You have taken me into a new world. By-and-by you 
 must teach me a new language." 
 
 " I trust you," she replied, with a grave smile. " Yes, 
 I trust you even if I am only a cup, as Dr. Thistle wood 
 says, to be drunk from and cast aside." 
 
 "Did he say that of you?" the unaccustomed lover 
 exclaimed. "The brute beast! My first impression of 
 that man was, after all, right." 
 
 " Never mind," she said, soothingly. " Don't let us 
 talk of that. For the present for to-night it's enough 
 for me to have you here, though you won't be able to 
 stop long. Tell me how did you manage to come back ? 
 As they all must have seen you go, you shouldn't have 
 come back like this." 
 
 Mr. Barton, so far as the tumult of his deeper feelings 
 permitted him, was conscious of some faint surprise at 
 this last observation; but he quickly remembered the 
 fact of her protracted sleep, which would naturally have 
 confused and foreshortened her ideas of time, and have 
 probably made her suppose that his last visit to her in 
 that room was yesterday, and that the intimate solem- 
 nity of their interview was still uppermost in her mind. 
 
 "Tell me," she went on. "Which way did you come 
 back just now ? Did you come in through the conserv- 
 atory?" 
 
 Why it should be supposed that he had chosen this 
 mode of ingress was beyond Mr. Barton's immediate 
 powers of guessing. A conservatory, indeed, existed at 
 Cliff's End, to which a door from the porch gave access, 
 and it might, for all he knew, be possible to enter the 
 
 223
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 house through it ; but this was not a route he would ever 
 have thought of choosing. 
 
 " No," he replied, with a smile and a certain accession 
 of confidence born of the thought that he was humor- 
 ing an invalid's fancy, " I came into the hall quite prop- 
 erly first, and I wiped my feet on your aunt's new mat, 
 and then I went into the drawing-room, and then I found 
 my way here." 
 
 "What then?" she persisted. "Did any of the ser- 
 vants see you? Didn't they think it odd?" 
 
 "The butler," replied Mr. Barton "yes, he saw me, 
 certainly. So did your aunt also." 
 
 " She didn't !" exclaimed the girl. " Well, I don't care, 
 after all, whether it was odd or not. You are here. 
 That's all that matters." 
 
 "But your aunt," said Mr. Barton, still finding a re- 
 lief in dwelling on the unessential " you must know that 
 she saw me. She told you that I was here, and she sent 
 for you." 
 
 "Well," said Miss Vivian, laughing faintly, "have it 
 your own way. I'm too tired to be teased. Why are 
 you so far off ? Sometimes I can hardly hear you. Come 
 for one moment I couldn't stand it for longer but 
 just for one moment come over and talk to me." 
 
 Mr. Barton rose. There happened to be no chair near 
 hers. Before he knew what he had done he found him- 
 self at her side, kneeling. She leaned toward him and 
 laid her hand on his hair. 
 
 "My aunt," she said, "didn't send for me. How 
 silly you are! I was waiting for you." 
 
 " You are more to me," whispered Mr. Barton, thrill- 
 ing beneath this undreamed-of touch, "than anything 
 in the whole wide world except Him in whom you and I 
 and all the world exist." 
 
 " I was wondering," said Miss Vivian, slowly, "whether 
 you felt things in that way. It's the way I feel myself, 
 and I have wondered whether it was yours, too, when I 
 burnt the incense that Mr. Barton gave me, and when 
 
 224
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 I read Mr. Barton's book, which points to the star beyond 
 the star. And so that book really speaks your own feel- 
 ings? For you for you yourself the hunger of the 
 lamb is a witness to the growing of the green pastures ? 
 Come, I am waiting. Just touch my lips with yours a 
 touch only, for I could bear no more." 
 
 Mr. Barton had never, even in thought, kissed a wom- 
 an's lips before. This was his first hour of paradise. 
 
 "Now," she said, "you must go. That's all I am 
 equal to. My aunt will be coming to look after me. I 
 had rather that you went first." 
 
 "I was warned," said Mr. Barton, "that I wasn't to 
 stay long. Much more must be said as soon as my be- 
 loved, my beloved, my beloved can bear it to herself, 
 and to others also." 
 
 In the act of rising he so far disobeyed her that he 
 stooped and kissed her on the forehead, as reverently as 
 if he were kissing the dead. She was conscious that he 
 shook all over. 
 
 How he got out of that room Mr. Barton never knew. 
 He was like a man who had died and come to life again 
 in a new world. Cliff's End, with its hall, its front door, 
 and its winding, laurelled drive, and the public road 
 along which he hurried homeward, were shadows to 
 him. Gradually through this haze of beatitude certain 
 thoughts took shape, which at first brought him to earth 
 with their practical and austere solemnity, and then 
 lifted him up once again on wings. He was one of an 
 Anglican order whose members, so long as they remain- 
 ed in it, were vowed in secret to celibacy. Of priestly 
 celibacy he had hitherto been an earnest though not a 
 bigoted advocate. From his brethren and his former 
 opinions he would now have to sever himself.
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 MR. BARTON was long in realizing the fulness of 
 what had just happened to him, but he knew that 
 his whole nature had suffered some profound change. 
 His spiritual aspirations were true to their old orientation, 
 but mounting toward the object of them, through a new 
 air charged with wonders, the wings of his spirit were 
 lifting him with a bolder sweep, and colors from heaven 
 were shimmering on them which he had never even seen 
 in dreams. He had, in fact, since his last interview with 
 Miss Vivian, passed by a sudden and a curiously belated 
 process from the immaturity of youth to the maturity 
 of a normal but untainted man. 
 
 That night, in the small and cell-like room, where he 
 generally wrote his sermons and so often meditated on 
 his knees, he gave himself to the composition of a letter 
 addressed to the superior of his order, and announcing 
 the changed prospects which would separate him from 
 the band of brethren. It was thus that his letter ended: 
 
 " Dear Father in Christ, pray for me that I may find in this 
 most holy sacrament of marriage such means of grace as will 
 enable me with increased fidelity to work for the ends which are 
 sacred to both of us." 
 
 This duty having been accomplished, a weight was 
 lifted from his mind. He went out into the suave 
 night air to consign his missive to a pillar-box; and then, 
 having said his prayers, which were not so much prayers 
 as thanksgivings, he betook himself to his narrow bed, 
 so tired with happiness that he felt he could no longer 
 cope with it. But happiness is a foe to sleep, just as pain 
 
 226
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 and sorrow are. Mr. Barton dozed at intervals; but 
 hour after hour was heard by him, as it sounded from the 
 church clock, and the new-born activities of his soul 
 would not let his body rest. At last he struck a match, 
 rose, and hurriedly dressed himself, and throwing round 
 him the folds of a black cloak, took a key from his dress- 
 ing-table, and again stole out into the dark. "My hair 
 is heavy with dew," he murmured, "and my locks with 
 the drops of the night." The key was one belonging to 
 a side door of the church. He entered, and, unper- 
 plexed by the obscurity, made his way to the chancel 
 and cast himself on his knees before the altar. There, in 
 the profound silence, he opened his heart to Him who 
 seemed to him at this moment to be a close physical 
 presence no less truly than He was when the Divine 
 Body told its advent to man by the touch of the flake-like 
 wafer. "Domine, non sum dignus. Domine, non sum 
 dignus. Oh, Eternal Love, that hast died for me, Thou 
 hast given me love for a teacher, so that, losing myself 
 in love for what is Thine, I may love Thee Thyself more 
 worthily." Hours ceased to exist for him as he appeased 
 his restless spirit by unspoken words like these, and his 
 vigil did not end until in the high windows the robes of 
 the saints and martyrs took a first faint coloring from the 
 dawn. Outside, the pure, pale air came to his cheeks 
 with a touch of caressing moisture, and all the purities 
 of the world rose blushing beyond the eastern seas. Be- 
 fore re-entering his house he lingered in his little plot of 
 garden. Crocus and daffodil were dreaming there of the 
 love that is at the heart of all things, a robin began to 
 twitter among the pink blossoms of an apple-tree. One 
 of these blossoms touched the happy lover as he passed. 
 He closed his eyes, and for a moment pressed it to his lips. 
 A dreamless sleep followed; and immediately after 
 breakfast he wrote the following letter, the composition 
 of which was rendered easy to him by the austere sim- 
 plicity of his mind, and sent it off by messenger to Lady 
 Susannah Lipscombe: 
 
 227
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 "DEAR LADY SUSANNAH, In accordance with what you told 
 me, I remained yesterday with your niece for a very short time 
 only; but, short as the interview was, there is something which 
 I must tell you with regard to it. I must begin at the beginning, 
 and describe to you just what happened. For the first five 
 minutes or so she seemed nervous and restless. Thinking, in- 
 deed, that she was perhaps hardly equal to the effort of con- 
 versation, I was at last on the point of getting up and going, 
 when her nervousness and restlessness seemed all at once to 
 leave her. There she was, her natural sober self. It had been 
 my intention to say to her, had I found her in a mood to listen, 
 something about those sacred matters to which I am specially 
 anxious to impress the following fact on your notice every con- 
 versation of mine with her has, on such occasions, been con- 
 fined. Events, however, yesterday afternoon brought a certain 
 topic forward to which neither of us had ever alluded on any 
 former occasion, and I wish as to this point to speak to you 
 without delay. I wonder, Lady Susannah, if I shall surprise 
 you? 
 
 " The character of your niece is so pure, so simple, so full of the 
 spirit of religion that it made, from the beginning of my ac- 
 quaintance with her, a very deep impression on me. Will you, 
 then, be very much surprised if I tell you that I have come to 
 love her? I have never been in love with any one girl or 
 woman before, and so, I suppose, I did not know what was 
 happening to me. If I had I would have spoken to you earlier, 
 for I would never have entered your house knowingly under 
 false pretences. 
 
 " Well, yesterday, by the merest accident, with no premedita- 
 tion on her part, and with no expectation of such an event on 
 mine, she made me aware that she entertained for me some feel- 
 ing not unlike that which had grown up in me for her. Then I 
 for the first time yes, Lady Susannah, then for the very first 
 time understood myself. It was all done in a moment. I did 
 not stay long. I think I left her happy. But if she should 
 regret anything if she should be in any doubt let it all be as 
 though it never had been. As to myself, I have fair private 
 means, and as to my family connections, I believe that you 
 would consider them respectable. I am, in all honesty and 
 candor, yours, THEOPHILUS BARTON." 
 
 Having despatched this letter, with instructions to the 
 messenger not to wait for an answer, Mr. Barton tried 
 to devote himself to the examination of some parish 
 
 228
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 accounts; but his efforts were unavailing, and he was 
 losing himself in a lover's dream, when his maid-servant 
 burst into the room and said, presenting him with a 
 card: 
 
 "The gentleman, sir, he wishes to see you most par- 
 ticular." 
 
 The card was the card of Dr. Thistlewood of the un- 
 clean and blatant cynic for whom the purest of women 
 was "a cup to be drunk from and thrown away." Mr. 
 Barton's eyebrows met together in a menacing frown, 
 and he was about to say, "Tell him that I can see no- 
 body," when it suddenly struck him that this visit, at 
 an hour so unusual, might possibly be connected with 
 the occurrence of some fresh case of illness. He ac- 
 cordingly composed his countenance, and replied: 
 
 "Show the gentleman in." 
 
 " I trust," he began at once, in a tone of cold anxiety, 
 as though he were addressing his visitor across some im- 
 passable gulf "I trust that there has been no fresh 
 outbreak?" 
 
 Dr. Thistlewood greeted him with an easy but grave 
 courtesy which, against Mr. Barton's will, did something 
 to disarm his anger. 
 
 "No," said Dr. Thistlewood. "If you mean our poor 
 friends in the cottages, I have no bad news whatever; 
 but if you could kindly spare me a few moments, I do 
 want to consult you about the health of one of your 
 parishioners, on whose present condition you might, I 
 think, throw some light." 
 
 "I'm a busy man," said Mr. Barton, still frigid, "but 
 if there's any information which I can suitably give you 
 I will do so. Pray sit down, and permit me to take your 
 hat." 
 
 "I have," said Dr. Thistlewood, speaking with a lei- 
 surely seriousness, "come here on behalf of a friend of 
 yours Lady Susannah Lipscombe. The matter has its 
 own importance. I have only this moment left her." 
 
 Mr. Barton felt, as he heard this unexpected an- 
 229
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 nouncement, that ice-cold drops of perspiration were 
 creeping out on his forehead. Could Lady Susannah, 
 before his letter had reached her, have learned and been 
 indignant at what had occurred yesterday? And had 
 this godless doctor been sent to take him to task for it ? 
 Or was she his beloved one worse? Could it be that 
 she was dead or dying? Had happiness been too much 
 for her?" 
 
 "I trust," he stammered, "that there is nothing wrong 
 wrong at Cliff's End with any one?" 
 
 "If by anything being wrong," said Dr. Thistlewood, 
 "you mean anybody's life being in danger, I can set 
 your mind at rest. Nobody at Cliff's End is in any dan- 
 ger whatever. You know, however, that Miss Vivian 
 a highly nervous subject was upset the other night by 
 the thunder-storm. Certain after-effects of that slight 
 jar still continue, and if we desire to get rid of them 
 quickly we ought, in a case like this, to acquaint our- 
 selves with even her slightest symptoms. And now, 
 Mr. Barton, before I go farther, let me explain to you 
 that Miss Vivian's parents, by the advice of my old 
 friend Dr. Gonteau Miss Vivian's former physician 
 have telegraphed from Nice to request that she may be 
 placed under my own care. Their request, supple- 
 mented by Lady Susannah's, must form my apology for 
 intruding on you. And so let us get to business. You 
 were yourself, as Lady Susannah tells me, the last, and 
 indeed the only visitor whom Miss Vivian has seen since 
 this little indisposition of hers; and I have accordingly 
 come, with Lady Susannah's sanction, to ask in what 
 way she struck you. Did you notice that there was in 
 her conversation anything odd or unusual?" 
 
 Having been cold a moment ago, Mr. Barton now 
 grew hot. "You place me, sir," he said, stiffly, "in a 
 position of some embarrassment. You may, perhaps, be 
 aware that my intimacy with the young lady in ques- 
 tion originated in my having been called upon to in- 
 struct her with regard to religious matters. Most of my 
 
 230
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 conversation with her has been systematically confined 
 to these; and conversation of that kind I am bound to 
 regard as private." 
 
 "Of course, of course," said Dr. Thistlewood. "I 
 have, as a doctor, been associated with as many priests 
 as laymen. I understand your position, and I respect 
 it. But the questions I want to put to you have no 
 reference whatever to anything which Miss Vivian may 
 have said to you of a sacred or even a confidential char- 
 acter. What I want to ask you about is only such 
 ordinary and casual observations as are bound to occur 
 here and there in the course of the most serious inter- 
 views. Here's an example. I once learned something 
 extremely useful about a patient from being told that, 
 in the middle of a conversation I don't know what 
 about, and I never asked with whom she had com- 
 plained of the coldness of the room when the tempera- 
 ture was really eighty. In the present case, what I am 
 anxious to know is whether, when the young lady was 
 referring to ordinary matters, you happened to notice 
 in her any straying of attention, or any tendency, after 
 her long sleep, to confuse the order in which recent 
 events had happened." 
 
 "Oh," said Mr. Barton, in a tone of great relief, "is 
 that the sort of thing you mean ? I beg your pardon if 
 at first I answered you rather cavalierly. Yes, do you 
 know, now you mention it, I did notice something of the 
 very kind you refer to. She seemed to think that my 
 last private visit to her for the purpose of talking about 
 confirmation, which was really some days before, had 
 occurred I couldn't quite tell when, but very lately, 
 very lately indeed." 
 
 "May I ask," said Dr. Thistlewood, "how she con- 
 veyed this impression to you ?" 
 
 "Well, "replied Mr. Barton, "instead of speaking about 
 my having called again, she spoke about my having come 
 back, which is the sort of thing she might have done had 
 I only just left the house." 
 
 231
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 Dr. Thistlewood nodded. " Quite so," he said, "quite 
 so. Was there anything else you noticed at all of the 
 same kind?" 
 
 "No," said Mr. Barton, reflecting. "I don't think 
 there was much else. She said, by-the-way, that when 
 I was there last everybody had seen me go. Now that 
 wasn't true. Perhaps she was thinking of the day when 
 you and I met at tea there." Mr. Barton, realizing that 
 the catechism was quite innocuous, was beginning to 
 find an excuse for talking about Miss Vivian pleasant. 
 He set himself to reflect further. "Well," he said, 
 actually allowing himself to smile, "that's a puzzler. 
 And oh yes, now I think of it, there were one or two 
 little odd things more. She asked me if I had come 
 back through the conservatory." 
 
 "Ah!" Dr. Thistlewood exclaimed, looking up rather 
 sharply. " Is there a conservatory at Cliff's End through 
 which visitors often enter?" 
 
 "No," said Mr. Barton, as though proud of Miss 
 Vivian's fancy, "that's just where the oddness comes in. 
 Then, too, there was another thing, though I don't know 
 if it comes to much. She happened to quote something 
 from a little book by myself; and she used a phrase 
 which might yes, which certainly might, show that her 
 mind had a momentary tendency to stray. She quoted 
 my book, saying to me: 'That's what Mr. Barton tells 
 us.' This might, of course, have been merely a sort of 
 friendly playfulness; but it may, on the other hand, 
 have meant that, her mind for the moment being absorb- 
 ed by the substance of the book, she failed for just the 
 passing moment to realize that she was talking to the 
 author." 
 
 "Well, Mr. Barton," said Dr. Thistlewood, preparing 
 to rise, "I'm very much obliged to you for your infor- 
 mation. It's precisely little symptoms like these which 
 help us in a case like this to see how much and what 
 kind of nervous disturbance tends to persist in a patient 
 even after the medicine of a good long sleep, and how 
 
 232
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 most expeditiously we may help her to get rid of the 
 remains of it." 
 
 "And now," said Mr. Barton, "may I ask you a ques- 
 tion in return ? Miss Vivian is no worse, is she, than she 
 was when I saw her yesterday? My own little visit, I 
 trust, did not unduly tire her." 
 
 " As to the general future of Miss Vivian's health," said 
 Dr. Thistlewood, "there is, let me assure you, no danger 
 of any kind; but we mustn't let her waste her youth in 
 being ill longer than necessary. For some days she must 
 be kept perfectly quiet ; and, though her friends, secular 
 and spiritual, will no doubt miss her company, they need 
 feel no anxiety about herself." 
 
 Mr. Barton, when Dr. Thistlewood had gone, felt him- 
 self, on the whole, not displeased with this interview. 
 His beloved one had not suffered from the agitations of 
 yesterday, and if it were necessary that she should re- 
 main quiet for a day or two, he felt that he could bear, 
 and indeed welcome, the interval as enabling him to dis- 
 cuss with her aunt the practical details of the situation. 
 He hardly dreaded a rebuff on Lady Susannah's part, 
 but there might be minor difficulties. These should be 
 got over. Nothing in the world should baffle him; but 
 he, nevertheless, was racked by anxiety till the evening, 
 when Lady Susannah's answer was at last put into his 
 hands. The first words of it were sufficient to elicit from 
 him a sigh of relief. She wrote: 
 
 "MY DEAR MR. BARTON, I quite understand how things 
 have happened. I have always myself approved of clergymen 
 marrying. I have several clergymen cousins, and they all have 
 very nice wives. You deserve one just as nice, and I should 
 like to think that you had found one by my means. Also I 
 could wish nothing better for Nest than a husband who would 
 make her happy." 
 
 Mr. Barton, who received this just as he was beginning 
 his dinner, laid the letter down as soon as he had got 
 thus far, and with unexpected appetite swallowed some 
 lentil soup. Then he resumed his reading. 
 
 233
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 "There are, however, several reasons why happiness would 
 be very doubtful for you. I ought to tell you plainly, for one 
 thing, that this poor child's parentage is most unfortunate. Her 
 father I will, Mr. Barton, give you confidence for confidence, 
 and tell you that in early days it was once possible that I might 
 have married him her father is under a cloud, and cannot 
 show his face in England; and the lady whom he did marry is a 
 divorcee, with a husband living. But there are other difficulties, 
 quite apart from all this, relating to dear Nest herself, and these 
 may, I fear, prove a yet greater obstacle to your wishes. 
 
 " Dr. Thistlewood, who knows nothing about what you tell 
 me, said to me only this morning, ' If she were but as strong 
 now as I hope we shall see her some day, a reasonably happy 
 marriage would probably be the best thing for her; but she 
 hasn't enough stability yet. as she and her husband, if she had 
 one, would both discover to their cost. Let her wait three 
 years,' he said. 'Things will be different then; and even then 
 she'll be no more than a girl.' He's seen her again this after- 
 noon, and he's coming again to-morrow morning. By the mid- 
 dle of the day I shall be able to tell you more; and if I can hold 
 out to you any immediate hope, I will. But if you are serious 
 in the matter, you must be very, very patient. And you must, 
 if you please, remember her unfortunate connections. Nothing 
 can alter these." 
 
 The first effect on Mr. Barton of this concluding por- 
 tion of the letter was like that of a physical blow, but a 
 second reading of it roused rather than discouraged him. 
 Starting from the table he dashed off a hasty note, telling 
 his servant that somebody must take it to Cliff's End 
 forthwith. He wrote: 
 
 " If I have to wait, I will wait as Jacob waited; but no external 
 circumstances, however unfortunate, would for me be any obsta- 
 cle hardly even a drawback. I shall look out with impatience 
 for your promised letter to-morrow; but do not think that I 
 resign or even lessen my hopes." 
 
 The letter did not arrive till late the following after- 
 noon. It ran: 
 
 "DEAR MR. BARTON, I could not write to you earlier, for 
 this morning things seemed so doubtful, and we have had a very 
 busy day. Nest's condition has turned out to be such that Dr. 
 Thistlewood is I won't say alarmed, for there's no question of 
 
 234
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 danger, it's only a question of time. But unless she was to run 
 the risk of being laid up for many months, he insisted that she 
 ought instantly to be removed to new surroundings and kept 
 absolutely quiet. Her father has telegraphed his most em- 
 phatic concurrence. None of her friends are to see her or even 
 know where she is. Dr. Thistlewood was to manage everything. 
 Nest left us at two o'clock to-day. She was not looking ill 
 merely languid and acquiescent. Everything was arranged 
 beautifully nurses, reserved compartment, and so on. For to- 
 night I may tell you this she is to be at a home of rest be- 
 longing to Dr. Thistlewood in Gloucestershire; but her parents 
 have expressly desired that, until she is quite well, her sub- 
 sequent whereabouts shall not be communicated to anybody. 
 There is every prospect of our having her back in a month or 
 so. Please be patient till then. 
 
 " In order that you may not worry yourself more than the 
 occasion requires, I may as well tell you that something of this 
 kind was foreseen by Nest's parents as a possible occurrence 
 from the first. If Nest's health ever made it desirable that she 
 should leave me, I promised that, during her absence, I would 
 take in Enid Wynn the other one, the half-sister. Indeed, 
 all the winter there have been boxes of Enid's clothes locked 
 up in a cupboard, so as to be ready for her in case she came. 
 This young person will probably arrive next week. When I 
 think of what I suspect to be her history though it's not her 
 fault I confess I feel rather nervous. One thing, Mr. Barton, 
 without betraying any confidences for I have received none 
 I may say to you, by way of a hint. Since such a point is made 
 of keeping these two girls apart, it seems likely that Nest is, 
 for a time, going back to her parents. Hence the anxiety that 
 Enid shall be safe in my charge first. I would therefore sug- 
 gest that, if you want to learn anything about Nest more than 
 I have been able to tell you, you should apply, not to me, but 
 to her father, Captain Rhys Wynn Vivian, Villa Orloff, Cimiez, 
 Nice. 
 
 " Any day you like to call I shall, of course, be delighted to see 
 you. Meanwhile, don't make too much of a malady which, 
 however we may deplore it, would be only serious if it were 
 neglected. Don't be angry with the plain speaking of one who 
 may, after all, some day call herself your relation. 
 
 "SUSANNAH LIPSCOMBE." 
 
 16
 
 BOOK III
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 MR. BARTON was stupefied by this hardly credible 
 news, and the kindly and equable tone in which 
 Lady Susannah communicated it merely made matters 
 worse. Such a tone, no doubt, might have done much to 
 relieve him had he really felt serious alarm with regard 
 to Miss Vivian's health, but he did not. Convinced as 
 he was by the language of Dr. Thistlewood himself that 
 her general health was in no danger whatever, he ac- 
 cepted her present condition, whatever might be the 
 medical name for it, as a sad, a pathetic, but merely pass- 
 ing infirmity; and the manner in which her weakness 
 had sought his strength, and had thus in a moment re- 
 vealed two souls to each other, had opened his eyes to 
 the direction in which the true remedy lay. His support 
 would do more for her than the treatment of any doctor, 
 and the plea that she required a rest-cure which neces- 
 sitated her immediate removal as though rest were im- 
 possible in the quietude of her aunt's home was merely 
 an excuse for removing her from his own influence. 
 
 Thus did he begin to reason with a morbid and self- 
 tormenting ingenuity, till he became in his own eyes 
 the victim of some monstrous plot, which was directed 
 against Miss Vivian also. Who was the prime mover in 
 it was beyond his consistent guessing. Could it be Sir 
 Rawlin Stantor? And was Dr. Thistlewood in league 
 with him for some infamous purpose? Or could it be 
 the girl's parents, who perhaps looked on Mr. Barton 
 as no fit match for their daughter ? And was Lady Susan- 
 nah really in secret league with them? This last ques- 
 tion, as soon as he caught himself asking it, did some- 
 
 239
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 thing to sober him by showing him its own absurdity. 
 And yet could he, that same evening, have been a hidden 
 listener in the dining-room at Cliff's End, and heard how 
 lightly the girl's departure was discussed by her own 
 relations, there were no suspicions so fantastic in their 
 bitterness that they might not have found harbor in 
 his mind and interpreted the whole course of the con- 
 versation as an implied mockery of himself. 
 
 Mr. Carlton would, in that case, have figured as the 
 first offender. 
 
 "Well, my dear Susie," he said, looking up from his 
 soup, "in our young days little girls with attacks of 
 nerves weren't humored as they are to-day. If they 
 ventured to be fanciful they were locked up in the 
 school-room you remember the martial law of Duchess 
 Fanny at Collingham and they had to eat cold rice- 
 pudding off the nursery governess's writing-table. Poor 
 little Nest I'm sure to lose her is like losing a bowl of 
 flowers. And if she's coddled it's no fault of her own. 
 But I can't help thinking that parents in the present 
 generation make some maladies worse by paying too 
 much attention to them." 
 
 "I'm afraid," said Lady Susannah, "that in Nest's 
 case there's something rather more than fancy. Any- 
 how, though I'm sorry to lose her for even a few weeks, 
 I'm glad to think that her parents and a great physician 
 like Dr. Thistlewood have taken the responsibility off 
 my hands. Dr. Thistlewood is really a wonderful man. 
 That nurse, v/ho is one of his staff she arrived at Lord 
 Cotswold's yesterday, as if by magic is a thoroughly 
 superior woman. I gave her tea in my boudoir." 
 
 "Yes," said Mr. Carlton, "I caught a glimpse of her 
 in the hall a sensible, sober person. It was quite re- 
 freshing to see her so different from those trolloping 
 females too dreadful, I call them you know the mod- 
 ern nurse. At Easton, the other day, there were two of 
 them looking after poor dear Caroline, and when they were 
 off duty this is a literal fact they used to go flaunt- 
 
 240
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 ing arm-in-arm together along the corridor giggling, 
 my dear, giggling quite out loud. If my dearest 
 mother could have seen it I think she would have had 
 a fit. It's a comfort to think that Nest has got some- 
 body of the proper sort. Her parents are so right, if 
 she's got to have a rest-cure at all, in sending her off like 
 this under sealed orders. But the person, my dear 
 Susie, whom I look upon as the best person of all is 
 yourself. It's so good of you, while Nest's away, to 
 take in the other young person and at a moment's 
 notice, too. You haven't, I suppose, heard yet on what 
 day you're to expect her?" 
 
 "No," said Lady Susannah, with a look of half-hu- 
 morous resignation. "Here again I have had to leave 
 myself in Dr. Thistlewood's hands. He's going to Mal- 
 vern to-morrow to finish his arrangements about Nest. 
 My own impression is that her parents will want to have 
 her near them perhaps under the care of Dr. Gonteau, 
 her old doctor where she won't have anything to re- 
 mind her of that dreadful thunder-storm. Anyhow, Dr. 
 Thistlewood will see that the best is done for her. And 
 as for Enid, if he finds when he gets to Malvern that she 
 is, as he expects, on her way to England already, he'll 
 try to meet her in London, or else at Bristol, and bring 
 her back with him." 
 
 Oswald and Mr. Hugo had been listening with con- 
 siderable interest. Both the diplomat and the man of 
 science, having in their several ways secretly suffered 
 from Miss Vivian's disregard of their sentiments, felt 
 that the temporary loss of her might prove to be a 
 blessing in disguise, by bringing them another young 
 lady who would possibly be more appreciative. Oswald 
 judged that the dignity recently achieved by him of 
 having his life blighted by a passion for a married wom- 
 an would greatly enhance his attractions in the eyes of 
 an unmarried girl; and as for Mr. Hugo, he had been 
 preparing himself for his new cousin by dismissing her 
 sister's malady as a mere piece of nervous silliness. 
 
 241
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 "Enid," he said, solemnly, as soon as Lady Susannah 
 had come to an end of her information, "is a very sen- 
 sible name." 
 
 "Yes," said Oswald, in a tone of condescending ban- 
 ter. "It begins with the same sacred letter as Elvira." 
 
 Oswald, having received that morning a letter from 
 Lady Con way, was in that happy condition which prompts 
 successful lovers to regard the loves of others as the ob- 
 jects of a placid merriment. Mr. Hugo scowled and pre- 
 tended to read the menu. 
 
 "Mr. Hugo," said Miss Arundel, "why are you making 
 such an exceedingly fractious face? There's a melon 
 coming. I ordered it this morning on purpose to make 
 you good, and it cost elevenpence halfpenny." 
 
 Miss Arundel had once studied for three months at a 
 cookery school, and prided herself on the ingenious 
 economy with which she managed to feed her kindred. 
 For this reason, as Sir Rawlin Stantor had divined, she 
 was the frequent butt of her brothers, who, forgetting 
 their feud, now joined in an attack on her. 
 
 " Nest," began Mr. Hugo, "even if she is not very wise, 
 could at all events do one thing. She could write a 
 menu fit for a gentleman to read. When I have a house 
 of my own," Mr. Hugo continued, his prospective income 
 being four hundred a year, "I shall have a servant 
 specially to look after things like that." 
 
 "A menu of Nina's," said Oswald, "is like a series 
 of dish-covers, which conceal, instead of revealing, the 
 nature of what we're going to eat. Look here, Cousin 
 George, let me just read you this: ' Soup fish minced 
 meat in shells.' What comes next? I suppose it will 
 be: 'Skin bones.' My dear Nina, you had much better 
 do it in French. 'Pure"e anonyme poisson, bon marche 
 Petits ddbris de quelquechose Morceaux assortis, a 
 la chat.' Do you know, Cousin George, I'm always 
 telling Nina that if one day her heart is cut open like 
 Queen Mary's, we sha'n't find Calais written on it we 
 shall find 'Keep down the house books.'" 
 
 242
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 "And if Oswald's heart is cut open," said Mr. Hugo, 
 who had only deferred his revenge, and whose repartees 
 were simple and rather pointed, "what we shall find there 
 will be: 'Lady Con way.'" 
 
 "Come, come," said Lady Susannah, "don't you two 
 boys talk nonsense. What would your cousin Enid 
 think if she heard you sparring like this?" 
 
 "Yes," Mr. Carlton continued, hastening to improve 
 the occasion, "and that reminds me there's another 
 thing which your aunt Susie was going to tell you. The 
 parents of your cousins won't say how or why so right 
 they are; I wish there were more like them but be- 
 tween these girls some one has made mischief. Well, 
 don't, if you can avoid it, talk about Nest to Enid, or 
 even let out that's she's been here. Enid, apparently, 
 has no suspicion of the fact, so you two young men be 
 discreet, and don't run the risk of stirring up unpleasant 
 feelings by alluding to it. I can trust to Oswald's tact; 
 but I should not feel quite sure of Hugo if he weren't so 
 old for his years. Men of science wouldn't have been 
 burned and imprisoned if they hadn't said things which 
 they'd better have kept to themselves." 
 
 Mr. Hugo's baby countenance acknowledged this com- 
 pliment with smiles. 
 
 "I think," he replied, "I can promise, about a minor 
 matter like this, to be less outspoken than Galileo. Nina, 
 I should like some melon." 
 
 Mr. Barton at this moment was beginning the com- 
 position of a letter, which Lady Susannah received the 
 following morning. He wrote: 
 
 "Your news has so astonished me that I can hardly take it 
 in. You, personally, I gather, have had no voice in the matter; 
 you have not suggested her removal as a means of separating 
 her from me. I sincerely believe you to be my friend. But I 
 will not weary you with what I feel on my own account; this 
 would perhaps not mean much to you. I will speak only about 
 a trouble which you yourself will share with me. I refer to her 
 coming confirmation and her first communion, for which she 
 
 243
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 was so carefully preparing herself. She was coming to our 
 Lord with the heart of an untainted child. And now, if I may 
 judge from what you yourself have so emphatically told me, she 
 has been placed out of reach of any religious guidance what- 
 soever; the means of grace have been literally snatched away 
 from her; and at this very moment, according to your own show- 
 ing, one or other of two things will be happening to her. She 
 will either be under the care of parents who, although they are 
 legally married, are, as you and I know, living in a state of dead- 
 ly sin, and are desecrating a most holy sacrament in the entire 
 conduct of their lives, or else, if she is taken elsewhere, under 
 whose care will she be? She will be under the care of the de- 
 pendents of a sceptical doctor, who does not perhaps deny that 
 a soul exists, but for whom our faith means nothing, because 
 he has closed his eyes to it, and, like all such men, hates it in 
 his heart of hearts. The atmosphere of open sin is hardly so 
 deadly for the young conscience as this atmosphere of cynical 
 indifference. Think, Lady Susannah think! A human soul 
 committed to our joint care what can you or I ever give in ex- 
 change for it ? And what good reason, I ask you, is there for 
 this removal ? So far as I can see, none. On Dr. Thistlewood's 
 own admission for he spoke to me about the matter personal- 
 ly her present indisposition is not even remotely dangerous. 
 There must be some other reason in the background. Cannot 
 you suggest to me what it is ? Does Dr. Thistlewood, in the in- 
 terest of her parents, or perhaps of some other persons, desire 
 to come between us ? Or is there for such things have been 
 any darker plot? But I won't ask that. I hardly know what 
 I write or think. Dear Lady Susannah, you are a good woman, 
 and I believe you to be my kind friend. I will trouble you with 
 no more questions till I have seen Dr. Thistlewood himself. I 
 shall go to him to-morrow morning, and if I can extort from him 
 no satisfactory answer, I will throw myself on your goodness 
 and ask you to give me what help you can. You can surely do, 
 or at all events tell me, something. Yours, 
 
 "THEOPHILUS BARTON." 
 
 True to the resolution expressed at the close of this 
 painful letter, Mr. Barton, at an early hour next morning, 
 despatched a note to Dr. Thistlewood, in which he begged 
 for an immediate interview with him about business of 
 the utmost moment. 
 
 But a message was brought back to him to the effect 
 that Dr. Thistlewood was away and would not return 
 
 244
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 till to-morrow or the day following. Thus, condemned 
 to all the agonies of suspense, he would have written 
 again to Lady Susannah, or would have called on her, 
 if he had not been withheld by a sort of tragic shyness. 
 He believed that he had her sympathy, but he did not 
 know how completely; and her sympathy, if lukewarm, 
 would wound him far more than her antagonism. 
 
 That day, in any case, had he seen her, she could have 
 told him nothing. Next morning, however, a letter 
 from Dr. Thistlewood reached her, which produced an 
 immediate excitement among the whole of the Cliff's 
 End household. He wrote: 
 
 " All our arrangements for your invalid have been carried out 
 most satisfactorily. You may be assured that she will be under 
 care as affectionate and judicious as your own. Her sister, 
 your new visitor, will be at Malvern to-morrow. She will spend 
 the night there under the charge of Mrs. Grey, my matron 
 partly for the sake of rest, and partly for the sake of something 
 which young ladies, when they don't want rest-cures, think even 
 more important. Both these sisters, it seems, are equally par- 
 ticular about their clothes. Miss Enid comes trusting in those 
 boxes which are lying at Cliff's End ready for her. Among 
 these boxes is a small one covered with green canvas, and con- 
 taining, as I gather, a travelling-dress and I know not what be- 
 sides. Pray send this by the first possible train, addressed to 
 Mrs. Grey's care. The young lady, I take it, will refuse to ap- 
 pear among you until she is in a position to make a suitable first 
 impression; and she has nothing with her which she considers 
 entirely suitable. She's quite accustomed to travelling, having 
 been in England, Scotland, and Egypt. Still, I will wait and 
 come down with her, and bring her with me to your own door. 
 And here let me take the opportunity of making a small practical 
 suggestion to you. I have already begged that, for the sake of 
 peace and quietness, you will advise your own family to say 
 nothing to Miss Enid about her sister, and it would be well, I 
 think, if you gave the same caution to Mr. Barton. He would 
 take it better from you than he probably would from me. This 
 being so, my present suggestion is that, since Miss Vivian was, 
 as I am given to understand, a great reader both of religious 
 books and of poetry, and has doubtless left in her sitting-room 
 many volumes with her own name in them, you should, during 
 her absence, put these possessions away. I am not authorized 
 
 245
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 to explain the nature of the difference between the sisters, but 
 I am not betraying the confidence which the parents have 
 thought fit to repose in me, if I tell you that it originates in 
 circumstances for which neither of these young people is in any 
 measure responsible. I feel sure that you will be glad to know 
 this. As soon as I can I will telegraph the important moment 
 when I shall have the honor of presenting you with a new niece. 
 " Yours, with respectful sincerity, 
 
 " GUSTAV THISTLEWOOD." 
 
 The duty of putting away Miss Vivian's private be- 
 longings provided Miss Arundel with an occasion for 
 much congenial activity, and the not unpleasant mystery 
 which made this precaution desirable filled Mr. Hugo 
 and Oswald with a subtle sense of holiday. They felt, 
 indeed, so much disinclined for any of their usual occu- 
 pations that most of the afternoon was spent by them 
 in the absorbing sport of pursuing three strange cats 
 which had invaded the Cliff's End garden, and taking 
 shots at them with a catapult of Mr. Hugo's own inven- 
 tion. 
 
 Lady Susannah, meanwhile, whose early disappoint- 
 ment in love was now disposing her toward sympathy 
 with all unfortunate lovers, had despatched as early as 
 possible a kindly letter to Mr. Barton. His attachment 
 to her niece by no means itself displeased her. She had 
 been touched and drawn toward him by the simplicity 
 with which he avowed it. But her kindliness, flavored 
 by a sense of some possible future relationship, seemed 
 to carry with it a right to advise and chasten; and Mr. 
 Barton's attachment being, for the present at all events, 
 one which could advance itself to no practical conclusion, 
 she was anxious, while showing him that she quite under- 
 stood his feelings, to insinuate that a sensible man ought 
 to exercise some control over them. "I quite agree 
 with you," she wrote, "that the postponement of Nest's 
 confirmation makes this illness of hers especially sad 
 and unfortunate. But you have done all you can. You 
 will help nobody by distressing yourself; and in a very 
 
 246
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 few weeks we may hope that she will be given back to 
 us. Don't mope. Come and see us at tea to-morrow. If 
 you come rather late you will probably meet Enid Wynn, 
 the sister; she ought to interest you because of her con- 
 nection with Nest. And afterward you and I can have a 
 brief talk in private; I want to give you a little caution 
 with regard to your conversation with Enid. If you 
 wish to look on me some day as an aunt, you must allow 
 me to anticipate an aunt's privileges and advise you." 
 
 Mr. Barton divined, as he read this and he divined 
 quite correctly that the depths of his own passion were 
 beyond Lady Susannah's comprehension ; but he divined, 
 at the same time, the sincerity of her good-will toward 
 him, and the effect on his spirits of her last sentence was 
 magical. It was like a touch of cool ointment applied 
 to a smarting wound. He had, moreover, discovered by 
 this time a source of consolation through his own un- 
 assisted reasonings. It was impossible, he concluded, 
 though he often had thought the contrary, that Dr. 
 Thistlewood, at the time of his inquiry about the details 
 of Miss Vivian's behavior, could have known or even 
 suspected the attachment between herself and him. 
 Nothing, however, could weaken his conviction that 
 Miss Vivian's attachment to himself was somehow at the 
 bottom of what to him was her otherwise inexplicable 
 removal, and that of this removal Dr. Thistlewood was 
 the primary instigator. But how could Dr. Thistlewood 
 have found such a fact out ? The answer, when at last 
 he thought of it, was overwhelming in its clear simplic- 
 ity: Miss Vivian, in her helpless condition, must have 
 confided the secret to Dr. Thistlewood. He could see 
 her lying weak and exhausted on a sofa, turning her beau- 
 tiful and now helpless eyes to the masterful physician, 
 and surrendering to him with angelic simplicity the holy 
 secret which at once sustained and agitated that frail 
 vessel, her body. The pathos of the imagined scene ren- 
 dered her doubly and trebly dear to him. The affection 
 with which he enfolded her turned into three affections 
 
 247
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 the adoration of the lover, the solicitude of the servant 
 of Christ, and the yearning of the mother for the little 
 helpless child; and from this triple communion with her 
 something besides developed itself a fiery confidence in 
 his future and hers, and a cool resolve that on the first 
 favorable opportunity he would extort from Dr. Thistle- 
 wood's own lips a full account of his proceedings, of the 
 whereabouts and condition of his patient, and of the 
 nature and the probable duration of those obstacles, if 
 any, which made a separation between her and her 
 future husband imperative. For the present he was 
 doomed to inaction, and meanwhile events moved on.
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 QHORTLY after five o'clock the door-bell at Cliff's End 
 O gave a resounding peal. Lady Susannah, who was 
 in the drawing-room together with her family party, 
 rose with an odd timidity which was almost like distress, 
 and made her way into the hall. Mr. Hugo looked as 
 though he would like to follow her, but Mr. Carlton, with 
 the air of an elderly governess, enunciated his opinion 
 that the new-comer would be shy and had better be left 
 to the welcome of her aunt alone advice which he em- 
 phasized by slipping into the hall himself and finding a 
 position half-way up the staircase, whence the whole 
 drama of arrival could be clearly and unobtrusively 
 witnessed. The front door was open. There was al- 
 ready a little bustle in the porch, and beyond the porch 
 Dr. Thistlewood, in a hooded cloak, was saying good- 
 bye to somebody whom Mr. Carlton could not yet see. 
 "I can't come in," he could hear Dr. Thistlewood say- 
 ing; "but tell your aunt that I've brought you faithful- 
 ly to her door, and don't forget, young lady, the good 
 advice that I've given you." Mr. Carlton heard the 
 clear reply of a speaker still out of view. It might have 
 come, he thought, from an amicable but slightly im- 
 pertinent school-boy. "Don't you trouble yourself." 
 This is what the voice said. "One would fancy, to hear 
 you talk, you knew pretty well all about me." "Not 
 all," said Dr. Thistlewood, with a pleasant laugh of com- 
 radeship, "but more, perhaps, than you suppose. Well, 
 good-bye; I can't wait a moment longer. I'll come and 
 see your aunt to-morrow." 
 
 Then came a process of hand-shaking which drew the 
 249
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 concealed speaker into the field of Mr. Carlton's vision. 
 "Thanks, awfully," she said, as Dr. Thistlewood disap- 
 peared into a carriage. And now Mr. Carlton, though his 
 attention was somewhat distracted by the movements 
 of a couple of servants who were busy with some arti- 
 cles of luggage, was able to form an idea as to what sort 
 of stranger had come to them. He found himself watch- 
 ing a figure having the outlines of a graceful girl and 
 the deportment of an independent boy a figure which 
 paused in its advance toward the hall door to administer 
 a passing reproof to a kneeling and perturbed footman. 
 "Gently, man, gently with that old bundle of rugs." 
 Mr. Carlton caught the words. "You're dropping the 
 magazines and papers all over the shop." 
 
 A moment later Lady Susannah came forward, and 
 Mr. Carlton discreetly tiptoed back to the drawing- 
 room. 
 
 "Enid," said Lady Susannah, kindly, but with a cer- 
 tain effort, "my dear, I am glad to see you." 
 
 Accompanied by a little spitz-dog, the young lady ad- 
 vanced, looked at the friend who welcomed her, and then 
 threw her arms brusquely round Lady Susannah's neck. 
 
 "It's awfully good of you having me here like this," 
 she said. "I always heard from father you were quite 
 one of the best. Do you mind my giving you a kiss? 
 I hope I'm not too presuming." 
 
 Lady Susannah returned the salute with tenderness, 
 and when this process was over there were traces of 
 moisture in her eyes. 
 
 When the stranger entered the drawing-room from 
 the twilight that was perennial in the hall, her likeness 
 to Miss Vivian, and her difference from her, both be- 
 came equally apparent. Their figures were somewhat, 
 their features were closely, similar, and, indeed, recalled 
 to Lady Susannah Dr. Thistlewood's discourse on twins. 
 But the likeness ended there. Every movement of Miss 
 Vivian's was instinct with something that was not male. 
 The frou-frou of her skirts, the belts that accentuated 
 
 250
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 her waist, her furs softly scented, the delicacy of her 
 gloves and boots all seemed a part of herself. She 
 had hardly a characteristic which would not in a man 
 be monstrous. Miss Enid wore little that a man might 
 not have worn as well. She had on her head a hard, 
 wide-awake hat. Her white collar was stiff. Her neck- 
 tie had a horseshoe pin in it. Her gloves were of loose, 
 thick doeskin, and, to put the whole matter in a nut- 
 shell, her dress of plain brown cloth, beautifully fitting 
 though it was, seemed making a piquant apology for 
 consenting to end in skirts. Her voice, moreover, though 
 otherwise not unlike Miss Vivian's, was, nevertheless, a 
 good half-tone lower. 
 
 She greeted her new relations with a frank grasp of 
 the hand and a nod of composed good-fellowship, though 
 in Mr. Carlton's case these rites were retarded by a mo- 
 ment's appraising inspection of his rings and his little 
 high-heeled feet. Then, on Lady Susannah's suggest- 
 ing that she had better come to the tea-table, she tore 
 off her gloves, tossed them contemptuously onto a sofa, 
 and observed that, the room being hot, she proposed to 
 take off her coat. Oswald was at once at her service, 
 begging her to accept his help. 
 
 "Thanks, dear boy!" she said, equably. "Peel it off 
 if you can. One, two, three now for a good pull. 
 Thanks, once more. Now chuck it down anywhere." 
 
 Lady Susannah felt herself to be listening to a new 
 species of language, and making acquaintance with a 
 new code of gesture. Both, besides being a surprise to 
 her, were a shock to her old-fashioned prejudices, and 
 yet the quiet self-possession of the stranger, the absence 
 of any doubt on her part that each phrase she used was 
 the right one, and the sweetness of her low-toned voice, 
 which formed an amusing contrast to the uses which its 
 owner made of it, did much toward turning into in- 
 dulgence the criticism which they united to provoke. 
 
 "Now," said Lady Susannah, "I've no doubt you're 
 hungry. Here's your tea, and here are muffins, toast, 
 17 251
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 sandwiches, Devonshire cream. I'll leave you to help 
 yourself. I hope you had a pleasant journey." 
 
 "Devonshire cream!" said Miss Enid. "I must sam- 
 ple that. I never saw it before. Yes, Aunt Susannah, 
 the journey itself was right enough, only at Bristol, 
 where we'd got to change, we'd a mauvais quart d'heure 
 on the platform. The whole place from end to end was 
 as black as your hat with excursionists. When our own 
 train came in it was all we could do to get to our re- 
 served compartment. Dr. Thistlewood's as strong as 
 they make 'em, but even he was a bit hustled, and as 
 for the porter, they nearly squeezed his insides out. I 
 felt," she continued, as everybody seemed inclined to 
 listen to her, " for all the world as if I were at good old 
 Cairo, where fifty Arabs in night-shirts fight over one 
 dressing-bag, and the next moment, for anything you 
 can tell, it may be at Mecca. Before I knew better I 
 fancied myself rather smart for discovering that the 
 scarecrow who grabbed mine first was Hassan. Imagine 
 my feelings on discovering that they were all Hassans 
 every man Jack of them! Look here," she said, turn- 
 ing confidentially to Mr. Hugo, who with some naive 
 adroitness had managed to sit down next her, "I didn't 
 quite catch your name, though I know that your broth- 
 er's called Oswald. What's yours? Well, don't be in a 
 hurry. Think it over and tell me to-morrow ; and mean- 
 while give me a bit more cream." 
 
 "I see," said Miss Arundel, "you've a dear little dog 
 of your own. We must introduce it to James. What's 
 its name? Would you like it to have some milk?" 
 
 "Yes, if you like," Miss Enid replied, carelessly. 
 "Where's the little brute got to? Father insisted on 
 having it sent after me. But it's not worth a Os- 
 wald divined that she was going to say "a damn," 
 but she changed the phrase in time. "It is not," she 
 said, "worth anything. There isn't a bit of sport in 
 it. I tried it at home, and it would not even kill a 
 sparrow." 
 
 252
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 An expression of shocked surprise was visible on Lady 
 Susannah's face. 
 
 "Dr. Thistlewood," she said, coldly, "tells us you're 
 quite a traveller. You've been in England before." 
 
 "Yes," said Miss Enid. "I was once for a month at 
 Harborough. This place is better to look at. I could al- 
 most fancy I was at Nice. I suppose, however, there's no 
 hunting hereabouts I dare say no sport of any kind 
 except," she added, after a moment's reflection, "rats." 
 
 "What!" exclaimed Lady Susannah "what should 
 make you think of rats? I'm happy to say that in this 
 house there's not a rat to be caught by anybody." 
 
 "No," said Miss Enid. "But, coming down in the 
 train, Dr. Thistlewood told me that the basement of 
 Lord Cotswold's castle was crawling with them; and if I 
 could raise a terrier, he said, he'd be thankful if I would 
 have a go at them." 
 
 Lady Susannah shook her head. "I hope, my dear," 
 she said, smiling, "you're not going to be cruel. Come, 
 if you've done your tea you'll like to be shown your 
 rooms. Nina, will you take her?" 
 
 "Certainly," said Miss Arundel, with alacrity. " Enid, 
 are you ready?" 
 
 "Right you are," replied Miss Enid; and the cousins 
 had risen to go when the door was opened and the 
 butler ushered in Mr. Barton, preternaturally grave, but 
 affecting a slight smile. 
 
 "Here, you Oswald," Miss Enid was saying over her 
 shoulder as Mr. Barton advanced, "be a good fellow. 
 Pitch us my coat and gloves. Now, Nina, lead the way." 
 
 She was in the act of catching her possessions when she 
 found the new visitor staring at her, to which attention 
 she replied by a quick but comprehensive survey of him. 
 Lady Susannah was in the act of calling her back, with 
 a view to making her and Mr. Barton acquainted, but 
 the impulse came too late Miss Arundel and she were 
 gone. 
 
 "I hope," said Miss Enid, as soon as they were safe 
 253
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 outside, "that that individual will know me again when 
 he sees me. Who is he ? He looks as if he'd swallowed 
 the poker." 
 
 Miss Arundel explained that Mr. Barton was a clergy- 
 man, a friend, and a neighbor. 
 
 " Have you many in these parts built that way ?" asked 
 Miss Enid, as they climbed the stairs. "The only Eng- 
 lish parson I've ever seen to speak to was a ripping little 
 fellow in Northamptonshire, who hunted three days a 
 week, and would take a toss without turning a hair. The 
 poor people about him worshipped the very ground he 
 trod on, and you'd never have guessed what he was if it 
 hadn't been for a bit of necktie. What! am I to live 
 down this very snug little passage? And your aunt 
 spoke about rooms. Is she going to give me two ? This 
 is doing me well. What's in here? The bedroom?" 
 
 Miss Vivian's maid, a discreet elderly woman, who had 
 it was so arranged at Dr. Thistlewood's express sug- 
 gestion been left to attend Miss Enid, was busy setting 
 out a pair of plain ivory brushes, and some other toilet 
 appliances equally plain, on the dressing-table. 
 
 "I don't know, miss," she said, "if you've got any 
 bottles and other things. I can find no scent any- 
 where." 
 
 "My dear woman," replied Miss Enid, "you may take 
 your oath of that. It's the whole bag of tricks you've 
 got there. But what are these?" she went on, pointing 
 to a powder-box and a pair of glove-stretchers. "They 
 aren't mine. Perhaps, Nina, they're yours." 
 
 Miss Arundel's nature was transparently and bluntly 
 truthful. A prevarication was here necessary, but she 
 paid for it with an ingenuous blush." 
 
 "Somebody," she said, "must have left them here by 
 accident. I'm sure I can't say who." 
 
 "Well," said Miss Enid to the maid, "lock them up in 
 some place which they won't get out of till they're want- 
 ed." And this matter having been settled, she turned to 
 survey the room. 
 
 254
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 "I hope you'll be comfortable," said Miss Arundel, 
 kindly. 
 
 Miss Enid looked at her with a laugh, and laid a hand 
 on her shoulder. 
 
 "Comfortable!" she said. "I should rather think I 
 should be. But, Nina, let me breathe it in your ear all 
 these frills and flounces and ornaments and satin bows 
 make me feel like a bull being put to bed in a china-shop. 
 Don't think me a beast for having popped it out like 
 that. Aunt Susannah's awfully good to me. And now 
 let's have a squint at the sitting-room." 
 
 In the sitting-room was a lamp, and a fire was bright- 
 ly blazing. All Miss Vivian's books and other traces of 
 personal occupation had been removed, but otherwise 
 everything was arranged precisely as she had left it, and 
 there still clung to the curtains a fragrance scarcely per- 
 ceptible, which was due to sundry burnings of Mr. Bar- 
 ton's incense. Miss Enid sniffed a little, and glanced at 
 the walls and furniture. 
 
 " If these were to be my permanent diggings," she said, 
 " I should want all these walls for my fishing-rods. You'll 
 think me an absolute Goth, my dear, but I should clap 
 those china brackets in a cupboard. All the same, I 
 couldn't better the chairs. But, Nina, dear girl, there's 
 a crucifix and a saint's picture and a prie-dieu. They 
 remind me of the convent school." 
 
 "Were you brought up in a convent?" asked Miss 
 Arundel, with some curiosity. 
 
 "Yes," said Miss Enid, "for my sins I was; but, of 
 course, only when I was a kid. They weren't bad beasts 
 in their own way some of the sisters. But what are 
 those things doing here? Are you all of you holy Ro- 
 mans? And that black man down-stairs who made a 
 face at me perhaps he was the genuine article?" 
 
 Miss Arundel assured her that Mr. Barton, like Lady 
 Susannah and herself, were members of the same Church 
 as the hunting parson of Northamptonshire, and that 
 Mr. Barton would be horrified at the supposition that 
 
 255
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 crucifixes and pictures of saints were not even more in 
 place in an Anglican household than in a Roman. "And 
 you," she went on, "from the way in which you speak 
 about the convent, I suppose that you belong to the 
 English Church, too?" 
 
 Miss Enid scrutinized her with a sort of humorous 
 hesitation. "Well, my dear," she said, "I certainly 
 belong to nothing else. And now let me ask you one 
 thing. Don't you think that, before we go down-stairs, 
 we might open the window and have this bower of 
 luxury aired a bit? It may be only my fancy, but to 
 me the place smells like a pole-cat." 
 
 "Perhaps," said Miss Arundel, "it may be a trifle 
 stuffy. Well, we'll do as you say. And now you shall 
 see the school-room." 
 
 The school-room where Mr. Hugo, still thinking of his 
 new cousin, was consoling himself for her disappearance 
 by severe preoccupation with his microscope, was much 
 more to Miss Enid's taste than the elegance of her own 
 apartment. 
 
 "One can breathe here!" she exclaimed. "This is the 
 place for me." 
 
 Mr. Hugo looked up delighted; but with some effort 
 of will he consulted his dignity as a sage by not abandon- 
 ing his apparatus for a trifle like a mere girl. He sum- 
 moned a weighty frown and became more preoccupied 
 than ever. Miss Enid Wynn rewarded him by an im- 
 mediate approach to his table. 
 
 "What have you got in there?" she said. "Let me 
 have a peep do." 
 
 Mr. Hugo looked up again, and beamed condescending 
 approval on this dawn of scientific intelligence in a 
 quite unexpected quarter. 
 
 "Wait a moment," he said, as he delicately turned a 
 screw, "till I've got the object into something like prop- 
 er position. What's in there is a toad's eye. Now sit 
 down, and if the focus is wrong you can alter it." 
 
 "Well, Enid," said Miss Arundel, "I shall leave you 
 256
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 here. You'll be able to find your way to your own 
 room at dressing-time." 
 
 Miss Enid, meanwhile, was beginning to peer through 
 the eye-piece of the instrument. 
 
 "All right, Nina," she said. "Look here, Mr. Hugo 
 I haven't got the focus yet. Am I turning the right 
 screw? How does the little devil work? No, don't 
 touch me. It's coming. Ah, isn't that jolly!" 
 
 Mr. Hugo's delight increased as he watched his prom- 
 ising pupil, and his hand hovered over her shoulder like 
 a moth that desired to pitch on it. This consummation, 
 however, was hindered partly by his own shyness, partly 
 by the entrance of Oswald, which a frown on Mr. Hugo's 
 brow showed that he regarded as the worst form of in- 
 trusion. As for Oswald himself, he had just come in 
 from the garden, where he had begun the composition 
 of a poem of which Miss Enid Wynn was the occasion 
 
 " Your heart is fresh as morning dew, 
 But mine is bitterer than the sea." 
 
 He had accomplished these verses, and the rest of the 
 poem was to lead up to them; but, the requisite rhymes 
 and sentiments being somewhat slow in presenting them- 
 selves, a spirit in his feet led him to look for the being 
 whose freshness formed such a contrast to his own 
 blighted maturity. The charms of a young hoyden like 
 this, with a soul that could stoop to rat-catching, could 
 not possibly endanger so he told himself his fatal 
 loyalty to Lady Conway. Still, like many lovers of very 
 much more experience, he felt that though his loyalty 
 to one lady was inviolable, it was only due to himself 
 that others should attempt to undermine it, and he was 
 now in quest of a temptation which, as a matter of course, 
 he would resist. 
 
 Oswald's instincts in matters like these were admirable. 
 He would have been horrified had he realized how closely 
 they resembled those of Mr. Hugo. Without seeming to 
 notice that Miss Enid was present, he went to the cup- 
 
 257
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 board in which he kept his portfolio of caricatures, and, 
 opening it on the central table, became seemingly lost 
 in a search for some particular picture. His tactics were 
 presently successful, for as soon as Miss Enid had had 
 enough of the spectacle of the toad's eye she rose from 
 her chair and cautiously approached the artist, leaving 
 poor Mr. Hugo to affect a profound indifference, the only 
 result of which was the breaking of his slide as he ex- 
 tracted it. 
 
 "Oh," said Miss Enid, carelessly, with her arms 
 akimbo, "are all those pretty pictures yours?" 
 
 "Yes," said Oswald, assuming an air of profound ab- 
 straction, but at the same time adroitly spreading some 
 of the drawings over the table. " They are only scribbles 
 of mine. I was seeing if I'd lost a letter among them." 
 
 Miss Enid took up a drawing and broke into a pleasant 
 laugh. "This is good!" she exclaimed. "I see you're 
 a regular dab at it. Are these some of the Southquay 
 freaks?" 
 
 "What have you got hold of?" said Oswald. "Oh, 
 that's a Mrs. Morriston Campbell and her dried-up stick 
 of a husband." 
 
 Miss Enid next took up one of Oswald's romantic love 
 scenes, in which a lady on a balcony was listening to a 
 moon-lit troubadour. 
 
 "Here's a party," she said, "who seems to be a trifle 
 sorry for herself. You've made her look as if she had a 
 pain in her tummy." 
 
 This piece of profane criticism was heard by Mr. Hugo 
 with rapture, and he immediately came over to the table 
 to enjoy his brother's discomfiture; but Miss Enid had 
 passed from the love scene to some more of the carica- 
 tures, and was once again in a state of appreciation and 
 interest. As the next best thing, therefore, to seeing 
 Oswald's talents made light of, Mr. Hugo set about help- 
 ing to do the honors of them himself. 
 
 "Oswald," he said, "show her the ones of Mr. Barton 
 and Peter." 
 
 258
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 "Oh, do!" cried Miss Enid, her eyes lighting up with 
 mischief. "Mr. Barton's the sky-pilot, isn't he the 
 bean-pole of a man who came stalking into the drawing- 
 room and looked at me and looked at me well, as if 
 I was some one out of Noah's Ark ? Is that him? Nina 
 tells me he's not a Roman; so what has he to do with 
 Peter, or Pope either?" 
 
 "Our Peter," began Oswald, solemnly, "is not an 
 apostle. He is a deity." 
 
 But this method of explanation was much too indirect 
 for Mr. Hugo. 
 
 "Our Peter," he said, "is a beautiful Angora cat, and 
 he cost seven pounds, and that's his altar where we offer 
 up lights and liver to him; and Oswald has invented a 
 ritual for him, copied from Mr. Barton's; and oh, Os- 
 wald there, look there there's one of the pictures. 
 That's Mr. Barton preaching an offertory sermon for 
 him." 
 
 The news that Peter was a cat rather puzzled than 
 amused Miss Enid, until she had examined the pictures, 
 when she grasped the situation instantly. As soon as 
 she saw Mr. Barton depicted in full canonicals she 
 burst into a laugh that was delightful to the artist's 
 vanity. 
 
 "Oh," she said, "this is ripping! Do let us see some 
 more of them! As soon as I saw Mr. Barton, I thought 
 he looked a first-rate rotter. You don't mean to say 
 that he really rigs himself out like that! They've got to 
 do it in France ; but here I thought even clergymen were 
 more sensible. Women in petticoats are bad enough. 
 Men in petticoats are worse. I say, Mr. Hugo, I want 
 to tell you a secret. I've got an Albanian's dress with me, 
 very much like a Highlander's, with a kilt only down to 
 there. It does make you feel so free. And I've got a 
 sporran and everything. Do you think that if I wore 
 it to-night Aunt Susannah would go pop? It would 
 make Mr. Barton sit up, wouldn't it ? I must try it some 
 day. I don't dare do it to-night." 
 
 259
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 Mr. Hugo whispered, with wise reticence: "Keep that 
 for Mr. Barton." 
 
 To Oswald this whispering and the whisperers seemed 
 utterly beneath contempt, so, gathering his pictures to- 
 gether, he hastily left the room, taking his constancy to 
 Lady Conway away with him, like a shield which had 
 not received the honor of a single dent. 
 
 When dinner-time arrived Miss Enid made her ap- 
 pearance in a long skirt, which was safe enough from any 
 resemblance to a kilt; but she wore a sort of black jacket 
 so cut and so ornamented with silver buttons as more 
 or less to suggest the male fashion of the Highlands, 
 while her hair was somehow arranged so as to look like a 
 Scotch bonnet, and was tied at the back with a knowing 
 little black bow. Her manners before, and especially 
 toward Lady Susannah, though in no way visibly con- 
 strained, were so naturally subdued and softened that 
 Lady Susannah herself could find no new fault with her 
 save that her language, her tastes, and even her dress, 
 were all a little peculiar. There was, moreover, some- 
 thing in her spirits that everybody found catching so 
 much so, indeed, that in the drawing-room, when dinner 
 was over, Mr. Carlton proposed the playing of some in- 
 nocent round game. The game at length fixed upon 
 was, at all events, innocent enough. Each player in turn 
 named one of the four elements fire, water, earth, and 
 air and challenged another to name, while the challenger 
 counted ten, something which inhabited, or was, at any 
 rate, specially connected with it. Thus Mr. Carlton him- 
 self was challenged with the element air. His answer 
 by rights should have been some bird or insect; and he 
 was held to have failed ignominiously because all he 
 could think of was soda-water. Oswald did no better, 
 when, air having been named again, he responded with 
 cynical promptitude: "Women's promises." 
 
 "Oswald," gurgled his aunt, "I think you're a little 
 hard on us. But you must think of something that's alive. 
 Now, Hugo, it's your turn. You give us an element." 
 
 260
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 Mr. Hugo looked round him with a solemn and superior 
 smile, and, his eyes at last fixing themselves on his new 
 cousin, he astonished the whole party by articulating the 
 word "Carbon." 
 
 "My dear," said Lady Susannah, "carbon is not an 
 element." 
 
 "It is," said Mr. Hugo, sententiously. "If it weren't 
 for what I and others are now finding out about radium, 
 we might still say that carbon was the great creator of 
 life." 
 
 "It takes much more than an element, Hugo," said 
 Lady Susannah, gravely, "to make even a sparrow. 
 You shouldn't talk like that not even in fun. It's not 
 reverent." 
 
 Mr. Hugo, at this juncture, caught his new cousin's eye. 
 It seemed to him that, in a cautious way, she winked 
 at him. At all events, she did something else she sur- 
 prised the assembly by joining in the discussion herself. 
 
 "Yes, Aunt Susannah," she said; "of course, if it 
 comes to that, carbon alone will no more make life than 
 air or water will. You want oxygen, hydrogen, and the 
 whole group of albuminates." 
 
 "My dear child!" exclaimed Lady Susannah, astound- 
 ed, "where did you pick all this up?" 
 
 "Oh," said Miss Enid, modestly, "it's only what all 
 boys know. Isn't it, Mr. Hugo?" 
 
 The young lady's familiarity with the profoundest 
 facts of science went straight to Mr. Hugo's heart; but 
 he was also a little jealous of it. 
 
 "I should," he replied, "hardly quite say that. It's 
 what very few girls know at any rate." 
 
 "Most likely," she went on. "I seem to be an awful 
 prig; but, you see, Aunt Susannah, as soon as the nuns 
 had done with me, I was taught something sensible by 
 two friends of father's by Dr. Gonteau and Professor 
 Guggenheim at Nice. Dr. Gonteau, as I suppose you 
 know, is an old friend of Dr. Thistlewood's, and he often 
 took me into his laboratory and let me see him at work." 
 
 261
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 "And what," said Mr. Carlton, daintily, "did the other 
 gentleman do the gentleman with a charming name? 
 He sounds like a chemist. I'm sure he made horrid 
 smells." 
 
 " Wrong," said Miss Enid. " Go down one. Professor 
 Guggenheim gave lectures on the origin of religion and 
 on the Bible and on sacred books and on Christianity." 
 
 A shadow of perplexed disapproval passed away from 
 Lady Susannah's face. 
 
 "I'm glad," she said, "that you've had some regular 
 religious instruction. But, as for the origin of religion, 
 you can hardly have wanted a professor to tell you that." 
 
 "I say, Enid," said Mr. Hugo, when he was lighting 
 her bedroom candle for her, "I'll show you something 
 to-morrow. I am actually producing life with radium 
 in a closed glass vessel."
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 NEXT morning Oswald had risen early, and gone out 
 before breakfast into the garden to finish the poem 
 in which he contrasted the heart of Miss Wynn with his 
 own. He was thus occupied when, at a turn of one of 
 the paths, he came on Miss Wynn herself, wearing one of 
 his own hats. 
 
 " Morning," she said, with a nod. "Is this your prop- 
 erty I've been making free with?" 
 
 "It is," said Oswald, looking her full in the eyes. 
 "That hat has known many airs and skies. It has had 
 a long life, but it never lived till now." 
 
 "Oh," said Miss Wynn, composedly, "you know how 
 to lay it on, I see. But I don't care for compliments, 
 thank you. Compliments are all my eye." 
 
 "That," said the gallant Oswald, "is because you have 
 had too many of them." 
 
 "Many or few," said Miss Wynn, "I can pretty well 
 tell their value. This place is like Italy. Have you 
 ever been to Italy?" 
 
 "Once," said Oswald, with a slight, mysterious sigh. 
 "I should like to go there again for the sake of old 
 associations which perhaps, after all, it hardly dares to 
 think about. But I can't go at least, not now. I am 
 called to a very different and much more distant place. 
 I am expecting every week to be ordered out to Con- 
 stantinople. I happen to be attached to the Embassy." 
 
 Miss Wynn looked at him with a respect which she 
 had hardly evinced previously, and exchanged her 
 bantering manner for a sort of soft sullenness. 
 
 "Well," she said, "if ever in your life you've done 
 263
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 anything particularly rotten, I hope that at Constanti- 
 nople you'll be sufficiently far away from it." 
 
 The word "rotten," as applied to any possible indis- 
 cretion of his own, seemed to Oswald contemptibly in- 
 appropriate. But what this girl meant was evident. 
 She assumed that he was a man with a past. She was 
 not without some penetration. She would never have 
 spoken in this way to that babyish Mr. Hugo. The con- 
 versation was here disturbed by the loud ringing of a 
 bell. 
 
 "That's not for breakfast," said Oswald, cynically. 
 "It's for prayers." 
 
 "Does Aunt Susannah expect me?" asked Miss Wynn. 
 "I don't mind going if she does anything for a quiet 
 life. She doesn't? You're quite sure? Thank good- 
 ness for that!" 
 
 Oswald, who felt that, whatever might be the case with 
 men, liberal opinions were more or less unbecoming in 
 women, was slightly jarred by this utterance, and his 
 original conclusion that there was a strange want in her 
 nature was confirmed by the promptitude with which, 
 when the party assembled in the dining-room, she de- 
 serted him altogether for his brother, with whom, on 
 pretence of being helped by him to boil an egg on the 
 sideboard, she soon seemed to be indulging in the con- 
 coction of some childish plot. 
 
 Subsequent events showed that such had been indeed 
 the case. "Enid," Miss Arundel had said, at the end 
 of breakfast, with the air of a person proposing some 
 bout of intoxicating dissipation, "would you like, in the 
 course of the morning, to come and see my hens and 
 chickens? I've got forty-seven, and nine of them have 
 the gapes." And Miss Enid had replied that already 
 Mr. Hugo and she had settled to go for a stroll, but would 
 visit the hen-house on their return. The morning wore 
 away, however, and the two were still missing; and 
 when it was found at luncheon that both their chairs 
 stood empty, Lady Susannah was beginning to experi- 
 
 264
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 ence grave alarm. It was not till nearly tea-time that 
 the truants showed their faces again and the history of 
 their adventures was made plain in all its surprising 
 enormity. 
 
 What had happened was this. Among Miss Enid's 
 whisperings to Mr. Hugo in the dining-room had been 
 the question: "I say, have you got a terrier?" Mr. 
 Hugo, somewhat shamefacedly, had been obliged to ad- 
 mit he had not. 
 
 "Well," said Miss Enid, "no doubt Dr. Thistlewood 
 has one. Can't we slope off to Lord Cotswold's and 
 have a good rat-hunt there?" 
 
 "Would you," asked Mr. Hugo, aghast at this bold 
 proposal, "like that better than looking at my radium 
 and the beginnings of life in my bottle?" 
 
 "We'll see those in the evening," whispered Miss Enid, 
 insidiously, "when the others have gone to bed. I don't 
 see why I should turn in at half-past ten." 
 
 Accordingly, Mr. Hugo, in obedience to the stronger 
 will, had set off with his companion, bound for the 
 Turkish Castle. 
 
 " Now," she said, when they at last reached the portal, 
 " don't be afraid of the bell. Pull it for all you're worth, 
 or let me give a lug at it." 
 
 "Who shall we ask for?" inquired Mr. Hugo, tim- 
 idly. 
 
 "Oh," said Miss Enid, "you leave all that to me. 
 Look here," she went on to a footman, when the tall 
 doors were opened, "will you tell Lord Cotswold that 
 Miss Wynn and Mr. Hugo Arundel have come over to 
 do the bit of rat-catching that Dr. Thistlewood spoke 
 about." 
 
 The man looked at her doubtfully, and could hardly 
 forbear from smiling. 
 
 "Yes," Miss Enid continued, "just look alive and find 
 him. He'll know all about it. We'll wait here outside. 
 And hi ! there ; I suppose they can raise a dog and fer- 
 ret on the premises?" 
 
 265
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 "I'm sure I couldn't say, miss. I'll find Dr. Thistle- 
 wood and ask." 
 
 "Well, Mr. Hugo," said Miss Enid, "this is a rum sort 
 of castle. It's just like a birthday-cake with half the 
 sugar melted." 
 
 Presently the footman returned, and, demeaning him- 
 self much more respectfully, said: 
 
 " His lordship is at home, miss, and begs that you will 
 step this way." 
 
 "Ah," said Lord Cotswold, advancing, when the pair 
 were shown into a library, ' ' when age loses the privilege 
 of going to look for youth, youth makes good the loss by 
 coming to look for age. There's your friend, Dr. Thistle- 
 wood. We were talking about you just now. And how 
 is our man of science ? He seems to be a sportsman also. 
 That's just as it should be. And now," he continued, 
 "about the great business of the morning. Dr. Thistle- 
 wood knows of a cottager who has ferrets and who lives 
 close by. I've sent some one to find him and bring him 
 if he's there to bring. And, meanwhile, how shall we 
 amuse ourselves?" 
 
 "I hope awfully," said Miss Enid, with an engaging 
 and respectful courtesy, "that we're not putting you 
 out. I thought from what he Dr. Thistlewood told 
 me that we could just have gone round to an out-house 
 and had a whack at the rats without disturbing any- 
 body." 
 
 "Miss Enid Wynn," said Dr. Thistlewood, who had 
 been watching her with critical interest, "has scientific 
 tastes, as her cousin has. Yes, miss, I know from Dr. 
 Gonteau that you were one of his pupils. Would you 
 like to look at the place where the lightning struck the 
 balcony?" 
 
 " What!" she exclaimed; " did the lightning strike this 
 house? I like anything that's to do with electricity. 
 May we really have a look at that?" 
 
 As they passed through the main drawing-room Miss 
 Enid caught sight of a man who was turning over some 
 
 266
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 large books on a table, and who, as the party entered, 
 looked up and fixed his eyes on her. 
 
 "I say," she whispered, administering a slight nudge 
 to Dr. Thistlewood, "who's that? He looks like a swell 
 of some sort." 
 
 Dr. Thistlewood replied that this person was Sir Raw- 
 lin Stantor, who at that moment was consulting some 
 government blue books, the property of Lord Cots- 
 wold. "Sir Rawlin," he continued, "you know this 
 young lady's friends. This is Miss Enid Wynn. She's 
 a student of electrical science, and we're going to show 
 her the balcony." 
 
 " You just be quiet," she said. And, extending a hand 
 to Sir Rawlin with the gesture of a frank school-boy, 
 "Ain't it a shame of him," she continued, "giving me 
 away like that?" 
 
 Sir Rawlin 's expression became grave and then sud- 
 denly curious. "I will," he said, "come with you." 
 And he followed the party to the tower. 
 
 The broken window had been mended, but otherwise 
 the room, looking mean and tawdry in the daylight, was 
 much as it had been on the memorable night of the 
 party. The window was opened, and the girl went out 
 on the balcony. 
 
 "Be careful not to fall," said Dr. Thistlewood, teas- 
 ingly. 
 
 "Make yourself easy," Miss Enid retorted. "I say, 
 Mr. Hugo, look how this rail's twisted. I only wish I'd 
 been there to see it happen." 
 
 " I was there," said Sir Rawlin " as near as I am now. 
 I wonder if you would have begun to ask, as I did, ' For 
 which of my misdemeanors is the lightning trying to 
 get at me?' " 
 
 "I'm sure," said Miss Enid, bluntly, "you didn't do 
 anything so stupid. Of course I can see you're laugh- 
 ing. Well, if you didn't do that yourself, why do you 
 think that I should ? I was at Nice all through the last 
 big earthquake. The priests said it was a judgment. 
 18 267
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 A judgment on what? That's what I wished to ask 
 them. It just toppled their churches over like so many 
 old ninepins, and it didn't give even a jog to the Casino 
 at Monte Carlo. Are girls in England brought up in such 
 a silly way that they still take for gospel whatever their 
 nurses tell them ?" 
 
 "My young philosopher," said Lord Cotswold, "you 
 reason as well as Lucretius ; but the problems of life will 
 wait and the hours of this morning won't. Would you 
 and your cousin like to go down into the yard ? And if 
 the dog and the ferrets have not yet made their appear- 
 ance, you can amuse yourselves by examining the scene 
 of your impending exploits." 
 
 Miss Enid replied with the pregnant words: " Thanks, 
 awfully." 
 
 The two were accordingly sent off under the care of 
 a servant, and, Lord Cotswold having said that he ex- 
 pected them to stay for luncheon, they came back in an 
 hour covered with dust and victory. Mr. Hugo, indeed, 
 was so hung with cobwebs that his face gave little clew 
 to his identity, or even his age or sex. Dr. Thistlewood, 
 who encountered them at the top of the back stairs, had 
 Mr. Hugo at once taken off to a dressing-room, and then 
 turned to Miss Enid, who was keeping herself somewhat 
 in the background. He discovered that victory in her 
 case had not been bought for nothing. She had suffered 
 a severe though not a dangerous wound from a nail 
 which had scratched her arm, or, rather, torn it, above 
 the wrist. A bandage, made out of her own and Mr. 
 Hugo's handkerchiefs, was already getting pink with the 
 blood that was soaking through; the result being that 
 she had to put her pride in her pocket, and ask, in un- 
 willing accents, for Dr. Thistlewood's aid. 
 
 " I told you to be careful," he said, as he brought her 
 to his own sitting-room. " This might easily have been 
 a very nasty business. We must wash it with anti- 
 septics and then bandage it properly. We'll have the 
 things brought in here, and the housekeeper will take 
 
 268
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 you somewhere where you can put yourself to rights 
 afterward. Now," he said, at last, when the necessary 
 operations were completed, "if you don't wear short 
 sleeves nobody will see anything, so you need not go 
 and frighten that excellent lady, your aunt. You can 
 easily find an excuse for showing it to me in a day or 
 two, and we'll see how it gets on. That wound let me 
 warn you won't be well for a fortnight." 
 
 Miss Enid, when she appeared at luncheon, exhibited 
 to the company no trace of her late experiences, except- 
 ing a slight paleness and a certain sobriety of manner. 
 Her low voice and her faintly humorous smile delighted 
 Lord Cotswold, and he presently began to realize that 
 this pretty girl school-boy for as such he had at first 
 thought of her was not so scatter - brained as she 
 seemed. 
 
 "Did you," she said, abruptly, during the course of 
 the meal to Dr. Thistlewood, " ever cut out any part of 
 an animal's brain in order to change its character?" 
 
 "May I," said Dr. Thistlewood, in a tone which sug- 
 gested that he was not surprised, " ask the reason of this 
 sudden burst into science?" 
 
 "Oh," said Miss Wynn, placidly, "it was all along of 
 that terrier, which hadn't the spirit of a cat in it. Dr. 
 Gonteau had a friend in Leipsic who operated on a dog 
 like that. He took out the bit of its brain that produces 
 fear or secretes fear. Nothing would frighten it after- 
 ward, and it became as fit as a fiddle." 
 
 "I'm afraid," said Lord Cotswold, "that I cannot en- 
 courage Dr. Gustav to cut up this particular terrier 
 with a view to its moral improvement, since it belongs 
 neither to him nor me." 
 
 Miss Wynn laughed. "Well," she said, "I'll make 
 you a present of my own dog. Now's your chance. I 
 was going to sell it, but if you like to use it, it's yours 
 as a free gift. I used often to wonder what would hap- 
 pen if Dr. Gonteau's friend were to operate on a nun, 
 and cut out the part of her brain that secreted her be- 
 
 269
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 lief in her rosary. You needn't look at me, Dr. Thistle- 
 wood, as if you thought I was an absolute fool. I know 
 quite well it would be impossible to make a nun reason- 
 able in that way or, perhaps, in any way. Beliefs in 
 the brain must be mixed up so just like claret and 
 water that you couldn't take away one without taking 
 away goodness knows what besides. But still with some 
 feelings isn't this so? it's different. They're mixed 
 up with others, not like claret and water, but like oil and 
 water, and you can take the oil away and leave the 
 water behind." 
 
 "Dr. Gonteau," said Dr. Thistlewood, "ought to be 
 proud of his pupil. Yes, you are quite right. Cases do 
 differ, as you say they do. A surgical operation will 
 sometimes make an idiot sane. Let us ask your cousin, 
 Mr. Hugo Arundel, what he thinks about it all." 
 
 Mr. Hugo smiled shyly; but a look from Lord Cots- 
 wold encouraged him. 
 
 "I once," he said, "made Mr. Barton very angry by 
 telling him that one of his choir-boys, who was caught 
 stealing some money, had probably received a blow in 
 the neighborhood of his left ear, because the virtue of 
 honesty has its organ in that quarter; and I told him 
 that anybody even he himself if he got hit there in 
 the proper way, would at once become a thief, and would 
 probably end in prison. He looked so angry. I think 
 he would have liked to burn me; and then he tried to 
 give a sort of superior laugh, and said: ' If you think 
 that honesty can be destroyed by a chance blow, you'll 
 next be telling me that a blow can destroy man's faith 
 in God. I hardly think you would find many Christian 
 martyrs to agree with you.' ' 
 
 Mr. Hugo, with his customary simplicity, told this 
 anecdote unconscious that it left Mr. Barton with the 
 honor of the last word, and went on to explain that he 
 proposed to educate his cousin by showing her that very 
 night the beginnings of organic life, and a diagram, re- 
 produced from Dr. Thistlewood's, of the Microgamia 
 
 270
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 Socialis, which would give her an idea of how human 
 nature was put together, and how virtue, as Mr. Barton 
 understood it, was a compound of many qualities, and 
 might consequently be ruined by an adequate shock or 
 a shake, just as easily as the flavor of a crusted bottle 
 of Burgundy. 
 
 "I wish," said Lord Cotswold, when they had gone, 
 "that Rawlin could have stayed and listened to them. 
 They approach life these young people like a child 
 patting a tiger." 
 
 Sir Rawlin, who was to make an important speech 
 that evening, and had gone back to his hotel in order 
 to complete his arrangements for it, had indeed been 
 half inclined to remain and see something more of this 
 stranger who had taken Miss Vivian's place. Freed as 
 he now was from his first overwhelming anxiety with 
 regard to the possible consequences of his mad indis- 
 cretion during the thunder-storm, and forearmed, as he 
 told himself, by experience against any possible repeti- 
 tion of it, he had felt his old tenderness for the beautiful 
 girl revive, and it now resembled an affection which 
 might be securely cherished for the dead. Such being 
 the case, Miss Wynn's likeness to her predecessor, com- 
 bined with astonishing differences in point of aspect 
 and character, had caused him to regard the rat-catcher 
 with a friendly but somewhat critical interest. This 
 did not, however, prove strong enough to detain him 
 from his practical duties, and he was well content to 
 defer any further acquaintance with her till his next 
 visit to Cliff's End an event which could not be distant. 
 A few days ago, for many miserable hours, he had won- 
 dered whether he could ever venture to show himself in 
 that house again. 
 
 As for Mr. Barton, his glimpse of the new young lady 
 who had looked him up and down so coolly when he 
 encountered her in her aunt's drawing-room, had pro- 
 duced in him a train of emotions widely different from 
 Sir Rawlin's. Lady Susannah, who, as soon as she found 
 
 271
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 herself alone with him, had conveyed to him Dr. Thistle- 
 wood's hint that in speaking to this sister it would be 
 highly desirable to avoid any reference to the other, was 
 met by him with the curt observation that, from what 
 he had just seen of her, he doubted if he and Miss Wynn 
 were likely to talk much about anything; and then he 
 had plunged at once into the subject nearest to his heart. 
 
 "I suppose," he said, "you have not heard anything 
 more " 
 
 Lady Susannah laid a kindly hand on his sleeve. 
 "About Nest?" she said. "No of course not. My 
 dear friend, how can you ask? We don't expect to do 
 so till she's well enough to come back to us. That won't 
 be for three weeks. Enid is to be here instead of her 
 for at least three weeks or a month." 
 
 Mr. Barton took up the teacup which Lady Susannah 
 had filled for him, stared at it, and then put it down 
 again, apparently unconscious of what his hands or his 
 eyes were doing. Then, with the ghost of a laugh, as 
 if he were addressing the carpet, he said: 
 
 " Yes, I begin to see light now. Dr. Thistlewood no 
 doubt would not wish me to talk to this young lady 
 about her sister, for fear I should find out what it is he 
 has done with her. He need not be afraid. I am going 
 to be patient for a day or two, and then, when I want 
 information, I will go to Dr. Thistlewood himself. I 
 can promise him that Miss Enid Wynn will not suffer 
 from my attentions. 
 
 "Don't speak like that about her," said Lady Susan- 
 nah, gently. "Whatever her manners may be, I'm sure 
 there is something good in her; and if she has faults 
 even grave faults as I think she very likely has, you, 
 no less than I, should surely try to help instead of turn- 
 ing away from her. When I feel that I know her a little 
 better I will write to you. If her education has been 
 neglected, think how you might remedy the neglect! 
 She's Nest's sister. That should be enough to recom- 
 mend her to you." 
 
 272
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 "I was wrong," said Mr. Barton. "I felt hastily and 
 I spoke hastily. If this young lady desires any help of 
 mine, God knows that I am willingly at her service. A 
 great mental strain, like that which I am undergoing 
 now, makes one at moments quite unlike one's self. 
 Yes, write and tell me about Miss Wynn as soon as you 
 have seen a little more of her, and if there is anything I 
 can do for her I will do it, though I have an instinctive 
 feeling that she will not desire my aid. I will only add 
 one thing a thing which I came here specially intend- 
 ing to say to you. You think me impatient, unreason- 
 able -I could see that from your letters. Well, I am 
 going to be patient. I shall do nothing for some days. 
 Then I shall go to Dr. Thistlewood, tell him plainly what 
 my relations with Miss Vivian are, and demand some 
 account of what he has done with her, and of how she 
 is getting on. If he refuses me this information, I start 
 at once for Cimiez. I shall explain everything to her 
 parents, and demand that there be no more mysteries."
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 SUCH was the conversation which had, directly after 
 Miss Wynn's arrival, taken place between Mr. Bar- 
 ton and Lady Susannah regarding her; nor had Lady 
 Susannah very long to wait before she was in a position 
 to write to him, according to her promise, and speak of 
 Miss Wynn's character in more definite terms. 
 
 The girl, on finding that her absence at Lord Cots- 
 wold's castle had really alarmed her aunt, had exhibited 
 a facile contrition which secured her an immediate par- 
 don. Lady Susannah, nevertheless, was inclined to agree 
 with Mr. Carlton when he said to her with uplifted eyes: 
 "My dear Susie, you've got a handful." Nor, as time 
 went on, did she find this opinion modified. The very 
 next morning Miss Enid disappeared again, and this 
 time quite alone, Mr. Hugo being more or less indis- 
 posed in consequence of the dainties he had consumed 
 at Lord Cotswold's table. To-day, indeed, she was 
 punctually back for luncheon; but she had, as it turned 
 out, been by herself to the golf-club, had explained who 
 she was, had paid the required subscription, and had 
 spent a couple of hours in beating and astonishing a 
 professional, who was, she observed, "very nearly a gen- 
 tleman." 
 
 From time to time, however, her high spirits would 
 desert her, and leave her in a condition of subdued and 
 almost sullen thoughtfulness. Lady Susannah, who no- 
 ticed these fits of depression, viewed them with approval 
 as signs of some latent moral sobriety, and one of them 
 happening to occur that same day after luncheon, she 
 judged the occasion favorable to a little serious conver- 
 
 274
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 sation. She found the girl in the drawing-room on a sofa, 
 with her eyes half closed, and inflicting an occasional 
 kick on the cushions with a nailed boot. 
 
 "My dear," began Lady Susannah, "I hope you're 
 not going to feel dull with us," and then went on to 
 question her with regard to her education, her reading, 
 her tastes, and, last of all, her religion. 
 
 "I'm afraid," she said, "that I'm not clever enough 
 to know what these histories of religion are which your 
 friends seem to have lent you, but I recognize none of 
 the books which I should have thought it would have 
 been right for you to read. I'm very glad, of course, 
 that those nuns did not try to pervert you ; but it seems 
 to me that you've been left with no religious education 
 at all. I should have been pleased myself if I could 
 have seen you in the morning at prayers." 
 
 "My dear aunt," exclaimed the girl, "I'll come like a 
 shot if you want me to." 
 
 "I'm afraid," said Lady Susannah, "I'm very, very 
 old-fashioned, and I don't quite understand such lan- 
 guage; but I think that, if you were to come, it would 
 be the right thing for you to do. But I must leave the 
 matter to your own feelings. And now promise me one 
 thing that you won't think of your aunt as a tiresome, 
 interfering old woman." 
 
 " Rather not," said the girl; and in order to emphasize 
 her meaning she imprinted a brusque kiss on her aunt's 
 somewhat meagre hair. For the time this closed the 
 subject, but at prayer- time the following morning Lady 
 Susannah discovered that her words had not been fruit- 
 less. Miss Enid was present at the devotional rites of 
 the family, and the demeanor of no worshipper could 
 have been more modestly appropriate than hers. 
 
 After breakfast Lady Susannah drew her aside. "I 
 know," she said, "that you and Hugo are going to meet 
 Elvira O'Brian on the golf-ground, but come with me 
 first for two short minutes into my boudoir. Dear Enid, 
 I was touched and pleased when I saw you at prayers 
 
 275
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 this morning, and I want to know if you would be will- 
 ing to do one little thing more. You were good enough 
 to listen to me yesterday when I questioned you about 
 your religious training, and I do feel sure that there are 
 many things which you ought to have been taught and 
 which you haven't been. One can't inflict such sub- 
 jects on people against their will, but would you consent 
 it could, after all, not hurt you to see Mr. Barton 
 one day, and let him talk about them, if only for half 
 an hour? He's a very clever and a very learned man. 
 Dr. Thistlewood went to All Saints' on purpose to hear 
 him preach. You'd find him quite different from those 
 ignorant Roman Catholic sisters, or from those sly, fat 
 priests whom I used to see at Mentone. I've always 
 thought it a mistake, although I know it's often done, 
 for the parents of our Church to have their children 
 taught in convents." 
 
 A slight pucker formed itself between Miss Wynn's 
 eyebrows, and she slapped her rough, short skirt with 
 a pair of loose gauntlet gloves. 
 
 "Yes, you kind person," she said, at last, "if you wish 
 me to do this I'll do it. Let him come and talk to me 
 at any time he chooses this week or next, morning, 
 noon, or night and I promise to listen. Only let me 
 have fair warning." 
 
 "I promise you," said Lady Susannah, "that you 
 sha'n't be taken unawares. I'll write to him and ar- 
 range a day." 
 
 The prospect of this projected interview, if it did not 
 please Miss Enid, did very little to discompose her, and 
 before she reached the golf-course she had dismissed the 
 matter from her mind. There, at the door of the club- 
 house, she and Mr. Hugo discovered Miss Elvira await- 
 ing them. Miss Elvira, who had felt herself lately neg- 
 lected for the new cousin, eyed Mr. Hugo at first with 
 a sort of reproachful wistfulness. On Mr. Hugo's sim- 
 plicity this unspoken language was lost. He felt that 
 Miss Elvira had somehow become a bore, and with genial 
 
 276
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 frankness he betrayed the fact. But time brought about 
 its revenges. Miss Enid, whom he had hoped to patron- 
 ize during the whole morning, expounding to her the 
 secrets of trajectories and initial velocities, had in an- 
 other moment apparently forgotten his existence. A 
 smart professional had greeted her with a mixture of 
 respect and jauntiness, the latter indicative of some pre- 
 vious intimacy, the former of admiration for her really 
 unusual skill, and she was soon deep in conversation 
 with him, tapping her boot with a rough walking-stick 
 meanwhile. Then from somewhere or other appeared 
 Miss Elvira's father, who, dressed in a suit like a chess- 
 board, and looking for a worthy antagonist, introduced 
 himself by a gleam of his eyes to her, and at once pro- 
 posed a match. 
 
 Miss Enid turned to the professional. "Samuel," 
 she said, "is he any good? Oh, he is, is he? Well, I 
 don't mind a twosome. I suppose, Colonel O'Brian, we 
 needn't wait for your daughter to tell us who each of 
 us is. Hugo, you and the other girl must look after 
 yourselves. Hi, there, Samuel, I'll take you on to-mor- 
 row again, and between now and then you might look 
 me out another cleek." 
 
 Poor Mr. Hugo could get no comfort from science; 
 but, a simple philosophy teaching him to make the best 
 of the worst, he returned to his old love with a glow of 
 forlorn eagerness, and realized that she had one charm, 
 at all events, in which her rival was obviously deficient 
 that is to say, her play was distinctly worse than his 
 own. The course of their game was, moreover, en- 
 livened by an incident which enabled her to entertain 
 him with her talents as a social critic. Leaning against 
 a gate-post at one end of the enclosure, scanning the 
 distant players with his large, protruding eyes, and only 
 made aware of their presence by a ball which approached 
 his feet, they came upon the Colonel's distinguished for- 
 eign friend, Count Giordano. 
 
 "Ha, Miss O'Brian," he exclaimed, "I wish you a 
 277
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 very good-morning! I strolled up here from the town, 
 thinking I might find mon Colonel. What is your dad 
 doing? Lady-killing eh? Or what?" 
 
 "I don't know about killing," said Miss Elvira, 
 brusquely. " I think it's more likely he's being killed. 
 You're safe to catch him at the club-house as soon as 
 his game's finished." 
 
 "Well," said the Count, "I won't balk your dad by 
 looking at him, and I mustn't balk you eh ? by mak- 
 ing you stop to talk to me. That would be too dread- 
 ful. But quick, Miss Elvira, look there! You know 
 everybody. Who is that charming person the person 
 in the pale-pink skirt? She reminds me of a certain 
 fair lady I once used to know in Italy." 
 
 "I'm sure I don't know," said Miss Elvira, with the 
 gravity of one who is struggling to suppress a giggle. 
 " If I were you, I'd go and ask her ; and if you don't 
 want to be hit" here the giggle asserted itself "per- 
 haps you won't mind standing out of the way of my 
 small ball." 
 
 " Right you are, my lady," said the Count, with a glib 
 smile. " In half an hour I shall be looking out for your 
 governor at the club-house. I know the ways of golfers, 
 and I'm not going to spoil sport." 
 
 The Count, sidling along the wall, was not many steps 
 away from them before Miss Elvira, who had been ag- 
 ging herself with a crumpled pocket-handkerchief, dis- 
 carded all restraint and exploded in a spasm of laughter. 
 
 " Oh," she said, " he does kill me! He says that every 
 woman he sees is like some one he knew in Italy. The 
 pater thinks no end of him. But oh, Mr. Hugo, shall I 
 tell you a secret? The other night, when he dined with 
 us, the Count wore an old overcoat, and Sarah you 
 know our parlor-maid Sarah said that in the pocket 
 of it she found what do you think ? A circular about 
 some patent fuel made out of Scotch peat. Sarah thinks 
 he's what she calls a ' commercial ' ; and he told the pater 
 that his mother was the daughter of a chieftain in the 
 
 278
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 Hebrides. What fun it would be if the pater found him 
 out! And then his impudence! Mr. Hugo, did you 
 hear him? Fancy his talking about the pater as my 
 dad or my governor ! Well, he's gone, thank goodness. 
 So now let us give my ball a little initial velocity." 
 
 "Eh, O'Brian, you seem to have been in luck this 
 morning," said one of the Colonel's intimates at the 
 club-house when, the Colonel's game being over, Mr. 
 Hugo and Miss Enid had departed. " That was a pretty 
 piece of goods who's been knocking you into a cocked 
 hat." 
 
 "He always gets hold of the pretty ones, don't he?" 
 said Count Giordano. " Who is the charmer this time ?" 
 
 "Oh," replied Colonel O'Brian, perspiring with social 
 triumph, "she's a certain Miss Wynn only been here 
 a day or two a niece of that old girl's, Lady Susannah 
 Lipscombe. She's worth two of that relation of hers 
 whom the Count got very sweet on at the ball. No 
 frills; and, by Jove, you can say what you like to her! 
 She did let the damns fly when her ball got lost in a 
 bunker! I'd have walked her home if I hadn't had my 
 own young un here. Now, Miss Pink -cheeks, are you 
 ready to step it?" 
 
 Mr. Hugo, when once more alone with his cousin, 
 managed for five minutes to avenge her recent desertion 
 of him by a sudden lordliness of demeanor, meeting her 
 remarks on the excellence of the Southquay course with 
 the assertion that no place was tolerable to which com- 
 mon people could get admission. But before long he 
 thawed, and confided to her that at his own home he 
 intended to have a private golf-course in the middle of 
 an enormous park, and that the mansion should have 
 attached to it a magnificent private laboratory. Every- 
 thing, therefore, was sunshine by the time they reached 
 Cliff's End, and they spent the afternoon together in 
 examining some geological charts, in forming a new esti- 
 mate of the antiquity of the human race, and in count- 
 ing the dark spots which had appeared in the cele- 
 
 279
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 brated bottle, each perhaps destined to be the ancestor 
 of some man or monkey in the future. Mr. Hugo's sci- 
 entific vocabulary was so much more extensive than Miss 
 Enid's, and he illuminated so much that was obvious 
 by means of algebraic symbols, that he now had recov- 
 ered his original moral ascendency, and he finally con- 
 solidated his position by producing an electrical ap- 
 paratus from a box, and passing from the region of 
 speculation to that of detailed experiment. This excit- 
 ing transition was due to the cat Peter, who suggested 
 to Mr. Hugo by miawing for a little attention the repeti- 
 tion of an old operation of his, throwing light upon 
 animal psychology. A piece of liver, obtained through 
 the old butler, was attached to a copper wire, and, being 
 hung over the edge of a table, the pendent delicacy was 
 electrified. At this the cat made a series of enthusiastic 
 leaps, and every time his paws or his nose touched it 
 a comet of sparks leaped out, which amazed but did not 
 daunt him. Miss Enid watched this performance as if 
 she were a child of ten till, repetition having made it in- 
 sipid, she longed for something more exciting. 
 
 " You've got a Leyden-jar," she said. " Charge it for 
 all it's worth, and we'll give Peter a shock. Now, Mr. 
 Hugo, you try it yourself. Touch the knob. You baby, 
 I don't believe you dare!" 
 
 Mr. Hugo, thus put on his mettle, unwillingly obeyed 
 her orders, and not all his familiarity with occult forces 
 of nature could prevent his starting from his chair and 
 ejaculating a cry of consternation, while Miss Enid filled 
 the room with a peal of delighted laughter. 
 
 "Now," she exclaimed, "let's try that on Peter!" 
 
 Mr. Hugo, though ferocious in his materialism, had a 
 very tender heart. 
 
 " No," he said " no ; that would make him quite wild, 
 and hurt him." 
 
 But Miss Enid's will was the stronger, and with awed 
 disapproval, but also with considerable interest, he 
 watched her making her preparations. 
 
 280
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 " How will you manage to give it him?" he ventured 
 to say, at last. 
 
 For answer Miss Enid put the cat on the table, gave 
 it a bit of liver, stroked it till it began to purr, and rested 
 an edge of the jar on one of his front paws. The train 
 was laid. An inch or two from Peter's face was a glim- 
 mering brass ball which presently caught his attention, 
 and he mildly approached his nose to it, as though he 
 desired to smell it. In another second the ball and the 
 nose touched. A globule of blinding brightness leaped 
 into portentous existence, Peter sprang into the air as 
 though he had been blown up by gunpowder, and then 
 rushed into a corner, where he cowered, the very image 
 of terror. 
 
 "Poor Peter!" exclaimed Mr. Hugo, overwhelmed 
 with remorse. 
 
 " Hugo," exclaimed Miss Enid, " I shall positively die 
 of laughing!" 
 
 Then the door burst open, and Miss Arundel entered. 
 
 " What have you two been doing ?" she said, as though 
 scenting wickedness in the air. " You have not been 
 giving Peter a shock, have you? That's your doing, 
 Enid. How could you?" Miss Arundel's eyes blazed, 
 and anger, a rare emotion with her, made a furnace of 
 her kindly cheeks. Her outburst, indeed, was so violent 
 that it ended by saving the situation. "I'm sorry," 
 she said, relenting, " if I spoke to you too crossly. But 
 that really was very thoughtless of you. Please don't 
 do it again." 
 
 "Nina," said Miss Enid, with a half smile, "you're a 
 dear; and I wouldn't hurt you, and I wouldn't hurt 
 Peter for the world!" 
 
 So that incident ended; but it opened Miss Arundel's 
 eyes to certain characteristics of her cousin which had, 
 without her being aware of it, impressed themselves on 
 her mind already. Miss Enid's instinct was to be on 
 good, and even affectionate, terms with all the friends, 
 and even all the acquaintances, surrounding her; but 
 
 281
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 her consciousness of them was, for practical purposes, 
 confined to those on whom, from hour to hour, the in- 
 terest of her life depended. Thus for Lady Susannah 
 she had doubtless a really grateful attachment ; and yet 
 on the morning of the rat-catching she had never given 
 a thought to the natural anxiety which her absence 
 would inflict on this kindly friend. Mr. Hugo she treat- 
 ed in very much the same way. When she wanted him 
 he was her confidential and also her admired brother. 
 At other times he was a forgotten toy. She had no de- 
 sire apparently to give pain to any one, but she seemed 
 unaware that any one could be pained by what gave 
 pleasure to herself. For the rest, her amiability so 
 Miss Arundel thought was almost too indiscriminate. 
 It is true that at lunch that day. after her game with 
 Colonel O'Brian, she observed that the Colonel had some 
 highly objectionable friend with him, whose back and 
 his back was all she saw of his person "gave her the 
 cold creeps." But against this example of discrimina- 
 tion Miss Arundel was obliged to set Miss Wynn's 
 avowed predilection for the company of Sam, the pro- 
 fessional, which, as she observed to her aunt, was cer- 
 tainly " rather odd." Lady Susannah agreed that " odd" 
 was the right epithet for it the word "odd," with such 
 ladies as these, being a veiled and timorous synonyme 
 for the terrible word "indecent." 
 
 This comparing of notes between them took place that 
 same afternoon, and Lady Susannah, as a result of it, 
 wrote forthwith her promised letter to Mr. Barton. Miss 
 Wynn, she said to him, was at heart thoroughly amia- 
 ble. She was, indeed, even generous. She was, however, 
 wholly wanting in moral training and discipline, never 
 having had, so far as Lady Susannah could make out, any 
 religious instruction from a member of her own Church. 
 
 " If you take her the right way, I'm sure she will be glad to 
 listen to you. Poor child! she told me so herself. So, if you 
 would name a time at which you could come and see her, I will 
 take care that she is ready for you." 
 
 282
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 To this communication Mr. Barton's reply was prompt. 
 He wrote: 
 
 "I will, indeed, gladly come, and do the best I can. I am 
 touched by what you tell me of the underlying goodness of your 
 young kinswoman's disposition. But my visit to her, unless we 
 postpone it longer than I think you wish, will have to take place 
 to-morrow or the day after. I must tell you why. I have seen 
 Dr. Thistlewood. I explained the situation to him. He lis- 
 tened to me I must in justice say this of him with the same 
 quickness and, indeed, the same sympathy of comprehension 
 which he would have shown had I been some nameless patient. 
 But when I asked for news he remained as silent as the grave. 
 On Friday or Saturday, therefore, I am going myself to Cimiez. 
 I can bear suspense no longer. Meanwhile, to-morrow or next 
 day I will call, preferably in the afternoon, at any hour you 
 choose." 
 
 19
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 THE sense of having been detected in some more or 
 less humiliating delinquency affects different nat- 
 ures differently. Miss Wynn's sense of what had hap- 
 pened to her in connection with poor Peter, if it did not 
 produce repentance, produced a most engaging amend- 
 ment. Lady Susannah noticed at dinner that her whole 
 demeanor was softened; nor the following day did this 
 change show any signs of exhausting itself. She an- 
 nounced, indeed, at breakfast, with a slight wink at 
 Mr. Hugo, designed as a pleasant reminder to him of his 
 admitted inefficiency on the golf-course, that she in- 
 tended to play before luncheon her projected game with 
 the professional. But she no longer spoke of him, with 
 her former familiarity, as "Sam." To-day he was " that 
 brown-eyed man there, who's the best player, by a long 
 chalk, I ever came across in my life." And even from 
 this dissipation it did not take much to divert her. 
 
 "Hi, Oswald!" she said, happening to encounter him 
 in the garden as she was setting out on her expedition, 
 "you can come along with me if you've nothing better 
 to do. Look here! I'm going to confide in you, and 
 ask you to do me a favor. I tore my arm the other 
 day when Hugo and I were ratting. Dr. Thistlewood 
 did it up, and I want him to look at it again, as the 
 plaster is getting loose. I shall have my game first, 
 else he might order me not to; and you, my dear boy, 
 if you'll be mum, and if you don't mind making yourself 
 useful, may tramp with me as far as the golf-course, and 
 then I'll tell you what. You may go and ring at the 
 castle, and tell Dr. T. I'm coming. Thank you. I knew 
 
 284
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 you would. You haven't got that pair of obliging black 
 eyes for nothing. I hope Nina's forgiven me showing 
 the cat what a shock is. I did get a wigging, didn't 
 I? Well, step out, for we haven't much time to lose." 
 
 They had, however, not gone far when two persons 
 caught their attention who, with faces set toward the 
 golf-course, were clambering over a distant stile. 
 
 " Look!" exclaimed Oswald. " One of those is Colonel 
 O'Brian." 
 
 Miss Enid looked for a moment, and then she turned 
 sharply round. 
 
 "No," she said "no. I won't play, after all. My 
 arm really hurts, and I can't stand that man with his 
 odious, staring friends. You go on and just tell the 
 professional the freckled one, Samuel Walker that 
 I'm dead or have small -pox or have gone to bed or 
 to America anyhow, that I can't come. And don't 
 bother about Dr. T. I'll write to him, and go to-mor- 
 row." 
 
 "You were quite wise, Enid," said Oswald, when he 
 rejoined her on his return home, "in keeping clear of 
 this golf-course. I never saw such a crew as there was 
 this morning at the club-house. I gave your message to 
 Walker, and while I was doing so the Colonel came up 
 and stood listening, and he winked at me and said, ' How 
 is she ?' I pretended not to know what he meant, but 
 the creature wouldn't take a snub. ' My own young 
 un,' he said, 'thinks that the fair cousin is an heiress.' 
 And then, if you please, while this monster was trying 
 to talk to me, I looked round and saw that some of his 
 friends were listening a foreign animal among them, 
 smiling a damned inquisitive smile, as if anything to 
 do with you could have any possible connection with an 
 underbred brute like him. I merely said: ' I'm afraid, 
 Colonel O'Brian, that your information as to the affairs 
 of my relations is considerably more extensive than my 
 own.' " 
 
 "Well done," said Miss Enid. "I'm glad that you 
 285
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 shut them up. I'm hanged if I ever go and show myself 
 on that beastly golf-course again." 
 
 "My dear," said Lady Susannah, to whom, in more 
 conventional language, she was before long expressing 
 the same resolve, " I've just had a letter from Mr. Bar- 
 ton, and" she here dropped her voice, for the party 
 were going in to luncheon " I hope the time will suit." 
 
 The girl gave a nod of placid comprehension and ac- 
 quiescence, and Lady Susannah was again inclined to 
 think that she had represented her to Mr. Barton as 
 more unregenerate than she was. The old Adam, in- 
 deed, remained in complete abeyance till the following 
 day, when it reappeared under circumstances the in- 
 fluence of which was not confined to herself. Lady 
 Susannah, having started after luncheon on a long round 
 of calls and tea-parties, the occasional payment of which 
 was a Christian obligation of her station, her family, 
 Mr. Carlton included, were left to the enjoyment of a 
 subtle sense of freedom which often springs from the ab- 
 sence of those from whom our welfare flows, and tea was 
 to be a familiar feast in the undisturbed seclusion of the 
 school-room. Even before the old butler had begun to 
 bring in the viands Oswald had celebrated the occasion 
 by starting a waltz on the gramophone, and Mr. Carlton, 
 who had once been a renowned dancer, felt that his 
 seventy years had reduced themselves to less than 
 thirty. The result was that, by the time he had eaten 
 his last tea-cake, he desired that the instrument might 
 give them a new performance, and jumping up from his 
 chair, and seeking an open space, he went through a 
 pas seul in a way so vivacious and skilful that even the 
 staid Miss Arundel was dissolved in applausive laughter. 
 He danced, indeed, like a youth in the fancy costume of 
 age, and he did not stop till, his wig giving certain signs 
 of insecurity, he sank into a chair with a lady-like gasp 
 of exhaustion and patted his precarious tresses with 
 both of his ringed hands. 
 
 "I haven't done that," he panted, "since I did it for 
 
 286
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 my poor dear princess. Shall I show you how she 
 thanked me?" And he incontinently treated them to 
 a reproduction of a series of royal mannerisms. 
 
 A rich flush mounted to the cheeks of Miss Enid. 
 "You," she said, "all of you, just wait where you are. 
 I won't be away for a moment." And, so speaking, she 
 disappeared. 
 
 Five minutes passed, and she was once again in the 
 school-room. If Mr. Carlton had gasped as a conse- 
 quence of his own activity, he gasped now to very much 
 greater purpose. Miss Arundel, Oswald, and Mr. Hugo 
 did not gasp, but they stared. Their new cousin was no 
 longer a girl. She was a charming little Albanian strip- 
 ling with a pistol and a dagger in her belt. A species 
 of kilt just touched her knees, and up to a point some 
 two inches below them rose a pair of scarlet stockings. 
 
 At first Miss Arundel hardly knew where to look, but, 
 fighting with the impulse to be scandalized, she finally 
 achieved a smile. Miss Enid, however, left little time 
 for any such preliminary criticism. 
 
 "Now, Oswald," she said, "buck up and move the 
 table. I'll show you a dance which I learned from Roy 
 Fraser, who took the cake three times at the games at 
 Oban." 
 
 Mr. Carlton watched with enthusiasm the animation of 
 the dancer's body, the naive and gallant effrontery of 
 her rhythmical hands and feet, and her growing abandon- 
 ment to an adventure which, inspired with the soul of 
 mischief, awoke even in Miss Arundel no consciousness 
 of indecorum. To Oswald and Mr. Hugo it was the 
 mischief of the matter that constituted its chief charm; 
 but Mr. Carlton, touched by mundane misgivings, would 
 now and then raise his eyes to the ceiling and murmur: 
 "Well, it's lucky that poor dear Aunt Susannah's out!" 
 The proceedings, however, received a far more drastic 
 check than any which Mr. Carlton would have been 
 competent or indeed even wished to impose on them. 
 Just as they were reaching their climax the door was 
 
 287
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 abruptly opened by old Berry, the butler. For a mo- 
 ment he looked round him, not seeing Miss Enid any- 
 where; but at last, recognizing her in the strange appari- 
 tion before him, he managed to articulate: 
 
 " Mr. Barton, miss, has called to see you. Would you 
 wish him to be shown in here?" 
 
 "Not for the world!" exclaimed Miss Enid, growing 
 sober and self-possessed in an instant. "Good Heavens 
 I'd quite forgot! No take him to my sitting-room. 
 Offer him some tea, and tell him I'll be with him di- 
 rectly." 
 
 Oswald and Mr. Hugo looked at each other, very much 
 more delighted with this end to the dance than they had 
 been with the dance itself. Miss Enid already was more 
 than sober; she was reflective ; yet she could not refrain, 
 as she turned to leave the room, from giving Mr. Hugo 
 one of her slight fraternal winks. 
 
 "I must," she said, "before I see him, get a fresh 
 piece of sticking-plaster. That scratch on my arm is 
 beginning to hurt like blazes." 
 
 Mr. Barton, meanwhile, had been taken to the little 
 room up-stairs which, during Miss Vivian's occupation 
 of it, he had visited only once, but of which he still re- 
 tained a recollection vivid in its solemn tenderness. His 
 heart, when he entered, ached with a desolating sense of 
 difference. The same chairs and tables were standing 
 in the same places, but most of the books were gone and 
 the little feminine ornaments. On the largest of the 
 tables lay a novel called Market H arbor ough, a treatise 
 on spectacular dancing, and a pocket-book full of fish- 
 hooks. The prie-dieu in the corner was laden with num- 
 bers of the Field newspaper, and by it was a pair of 
 wading-boots which Miss Enid had thus far found no 
 occasion to use. At last he saw, as a solitary relic of the 
 absent, the violet back of the carefully bound confirma- 
 tion manual, which he had given to the elect disciple, 
 lying under a magazine called Sport. He saw and suf- 
 fered ; but he had within the last few days become once 
 
 288
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 more his own master, calmly prepared to use, in the ser- 
 vice of any soul, whatever powers might be his of in- 
 tellect, of knowledge, or persuasive spiritual sympathy. 
 Indeed, his consciousness of these powers, whether pos- 
 sessed by him as a man or as a priest, was on the present 
 occasion more lofty and more distinct than usual. 
 
 Presently, from the room within, his new catechumen 
 burst on him. She was still in her Albanian outfit, and 
 was holding, pressed against her skin, a broad strip of 
 sable sticking-plaster, which, from one of her wrists, ran 
 some way up her arm. 
 
 From Mr. Barton's face an austere though not un- 
 gentle gravity disappeared for a moment, but only to 
 give place to amazement. 
 
 "I'm afraid," she said, very graciously, "that I can't 
 offer you my hand. I've scratched, or rather cut, my 
 arm, and the plaster has not quite stuck yet." 
 
 Mr. Barton, whose amazement was untinged by any- 
 thing like offended primness for the vulgar trivialities 
 of mere prudery were unknown to him bowed, looked 
 her up and down, and said, with a half-smile: 
 
 "Positively, I did not know you." 
 
 " You find me," she said, placidly, "in a rather uncon- 
 ventional get-up. I was showing my cousins a High- 
 land dance down-stairs ; and then this beastly old scratch 
 began hurting, and I had to see to it; and I haven't 
 stopped to change, because I didn't want to keep you 
 waiting. But I know what I'll do: it won't take me a 
 second." 
 
 She retired to her bedroom, and directly afterward 
 reappeared, carrying on her arm a dressing-gown of thin, 
 dark cloth, on the gilt buttons of which was the mono- 
 gram of a well-known hunt. 
 
 "If you," she said, "would kindly give me a pull-on 
 with this, you'll find that I look then rather less of a 
 
 guy-" 
 
 Mr. Barton performed this office with a courteous but 
 dry adroitness, as though, his first surprise being over, 
 
 289
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 the incident were beneath his notice. If any surprise 
 was left it had migrated to the features of the girl, and 
 was not, perhaps, quite unmixed with some furtive 
 traces of disappointment. Anyhow, her person assumed, 
 when enveloped in this new garment, an aspect of ma- 
 ture and almost severe sobriety. 
 
 "Now," she said, "sit down, won't you? My aunt, 
 who is goodness itself, was very anxious that I should 
 see you; and really, Mr. Barton, it's equally good of you 
 both to trouble your heads about an unprofitable creat- 
 ure like me. I sha'n't, I'm afraid, stand very high in 
 your estimation; but still, I may tell you honestly, it 
 will interest me much to listen to you. I've seen so little 
 of this sort of thing before."
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 THE perfect propriety of Miss Enid Wynn's language 
 and the suave seriousness of her manner surprised 
 Mr. Barton even more than the strangeness of her late 
 appearance, and in some subtle way he could not tell 
 what disturbed him more. 
 
 "Well," he began, quietly, "I'm not here to talk gos- 
 sip, so I'd better plunge at once into what I have come 
 to say. I presume that, nominally at least, you belong 
 to the English Church?" 
 
 "Well, you see," replied the girl, "I've been brought 
 up and lived abroad, and the English Church there isn't 
 quite what it is here. When I was a youngster I went 
 to school, you see, at a convent, faute de mieux." 
 
 "Yes, yes," said Mr. Barton; "that happens very 
 often; but your aunt tells me that the sisters didn't 
 make a Romanist of you. I may also presume," he 
 went on, with a faint smile, "that you're not a Wesleyan 
 or a Baptist or a Plymouth Sister. So I think I may 
 take it that your Church is the presumable Church of 
 your father, though you have, as I take it also, not been 
 very well instructed. Anyhow, there are some things in 
 which all Christians agree, which even children know, 
 if they are not absolute heathens, and about which even 
 the most heedless children must at times think seriously. 
 For example, no one knows better than a child what con- 
 science is. It hears in it that voice of God which Adam 
 heard in Eden, troubling it when it does wrong. Chil- 
 dren know that God made both the world and them, the 
 dust of their bodies, and the souls which for a few days 
 or years are cloaked in it; and they know that when 
 
 291
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 this dust is puffed aside, as it will be, they will go, for 
 good or evil, naked into God's presence; and though 
 they partly desire His presence for they love their 
 Divine Father they partly fear it, for they know how 
 often they have offended Him. But for Christian chil- 
 dren this terrible fear has its antidote. They are taught 
 how God, out of His infinite love for each of them, sent 
 His Son to take all their sins upon Himself, and to wipe 
 out all their stains, and to bring them to His arms par- 
 doned. You are you must be as well aware as I am 
 that Christians of all denominations agree as to these 
 simple points; and I presume they are as familiar to 
 yourself as, in all Christian countries, they are to the 
 humblest ploughboy." 
 
 The girl, who had, with slightly contracted brows, 
 been drawing geometrical patterns on the back of the 
 book on dancing, looked up when he paused, and said, 
 nodding assent: 
 
 " That's correct enough. In what are called Christian 
 countries most children I myself was one of them are 
 still taught as much as that." 
 
 Mr. Barton felt that at last he had found a starting- 
 point. The girl, if not very responsive, was at all events 
 serious and intelligent. He accordingly went on to ex- 
 plain to her, in a matter-of-fact way, that the great truths 
 of religion had one sort of resemblance to the things and 
 laws of nature. A child could understand that fire 
 would burn its finger, or that a clock on the wall would 
 tumble down if it were not for the nail that held it. These 
 facts it could grasp as well as the most profound philos- 
 opher. But these isolated facts were parts of a great 
 system; and as children grew up, and had to grapple 
 with the world themselves, it was necessary for them to 
 learn how these natural facts were connected. With re- 
 gard to supernatural facts, the case was just the same. 
 These, as we grew up, had to be grasped by us as parts 
 of a system also ; and of this spiritual system the Church 
 was at once the exponent and a part. She carried our 
 
 292
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 knowledge back to the beginning of God's dealings with 
 man, and to the origin of all our faults and weaknesses, 
 and gave to each of us, through her sacraments and 
 otherwise, renewed strength to overcome them. 
 
 " I may add," said Mr. Barton, "that the Church, for 
 each one of her children, is a conscience beyond a con- 
 science. The conscience of the individual may sleep, 
 but the conscience of the Church never sleeps. It is a 
 constant reminder to all of us of the four last things 
 things more certain for all of us than the dawn of to- 
 morrow morning or the publication of to-morrow's news- 
 papers: Death, Judgment, Heaven, Hell." 
 
 " I was," said the girl, quietly, after a certain interval 
 of silence, " looking the other day into a little book that 
 I found here a little book about confirmation." 
 
 "Indeed!" said Mr. Barton, unable to suppress a sigh. 
 " I am glad to hear you say so." 
 
 "Of course," she proceeded, "you must know what 
 that book says, for you've given it, I see, to somebody 
 with some very illegible initials, who was, I suppose, 
 once instructed by you; and the sort of things which 
 that little book says they seem the sort of things which 
 I remember to have been told myself." 
 
 "Ah," said Mr. Barton, "so you have had some in- 
 struction, after all! Yes, you are right. There is noth- 
 ing in that book which you would not be taught by any 
 Catholic instructor, no matter of what communion." 
 
 " Well," said the girl, " since you've been good enough 
 to come here and talk to me, you won't mind my asking 
 you one or two straight questions. Where's the little 
 book got to? It's there. Do you mind tossing it to 
 me? Well, Mr. Barton, in the first chapter I find this. 
 Let me read it out: ' How is it that we come to have 
 a bad nature ? Because Adam sinned, and lost his like- 
 ness to his Creator, and, having lost it, could not trans- 
 mit it to his children. Thus, even a little baby, though 
 it may not have done anything wrong, is born with a 
 wicked nature. It is unable to do anything good.'" 
 
 293
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 "Certainly," said Mr. Barton. " I remember the pas- 
 sage well." 
 
 " And then," she went on, " comes a long bit about the 
 devil; and certain bad dispositions in us, such as sloth, 
 anger, and gluttony, are specially mentioned as the 
 devil's characteristic work." 
 
 " I'm glad to see," said Mr. Barton, " that you've been 
 reading the book so carefully. You know more than I 
 thought you did. What are the difficulties about which 
 you desire to ask me?" 
 
 "Well," said the girl, looking up at the ceiling and 
 picking her words carefully, " it's this way. You see, in 
 Italy and France I suppose a good half of the lower 
 classes, and most of the women among the upper classes, 
 are under the thumb of the priests, who natter them up 
 or frighten them, and they take all this about Adam 
 and the devil literally; but educated men don't. Now 
 I want you, if you don't mind, just to tell me how it is 
 in England?" 
 
 "How what is in England?" asked Mr. Barton. "I 
 don't quite follow your train of thought. Take your 
 time. See if you can't put it clearly." 
 
 "Well," said the girl, with a curious smile, "I'll try. 
 Except for two others and they didn't count for much 
 you're the first English clergyman I ever met in my 
 life. As for the rest. I only know what I've heard, but 
 I know that some of them are in some ways exactly like 
 the priests abroad. If they could, they'd prevent di- 
 vorce; and if any man married a divorced woman, they 
 would, if they could, ruin the lives of both of them, and 
 treat them as if they were thieves or murderers. I 
 know so much from the case of two of my best friends. 
 But I won't let fly about that, or I might say something 
 I should be sorry for; and, besides, it's not that which I 
 have in my mind now. Look here what I want to ask 
 you is this. You are the first Englishman I ever heard 
 talk about religion, and you're clever and learned, so 
 my aunt says, and have written very learned books. 
 
 294
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 Well, do you, as an educated English clergyman it 
 sounds awful cheek for me to be asking you this mean, 
 when you give people books like this little confirmation 
 manual, that things like Adam and the devil are to be 
 taken as downright facts?" 
 
 "Your question," said Mr. Barton, "is a legitimate 
 one. I will pass by certain remarks with which you 
 mixed it up, and for the moment we will keep to that. 
 I am glad to think I can help you by solving your very 
 natural difficulties. Everything depends on what we 
 mean by downright facts. The sceptic of to-day, know- 
 ing nothing of history, thinks that such difficulties are 
 new that he, with his own cleverness, has been the first 
 person to discover them, and that they are overwhelm- 
 ing. It will perhaps surprise you to hear that the early 
 Church saw them just as clearly as he does saw them, 
 and saw through them. As St. Augustine has clearly 
 shown, we are not bound to believe, and the Church does 
 not teach us, that Adam's sin was the actual eating of 
 an apple, or that the personal Spirit of Evil took the 
 actual form of a snake. The Church teaches us only 
 that Adam, the common father of us all, injured his own 
 nature, no matter how or where, by some act of a de- 
 liberately perverted will, that our natures have been 
 corrupted through his, and that the personal Spirit of 
 Evil was mysteriously accessory to his fall. So much 
 we are bound to accept as facts, unless we are to accuse 
 God Himself of lying to us through His own Word. We 
 believe these essential facts, but they have been told to 
 us through symbols or allegories. What remains of our 
 difficulties when we look at the matter thus? Just as 
 our own bodies prove both to you and me the existence 
 at some time of the bodies of our immediate parents, so 
 the discord in our own spiritual natures show that at 
 some time or other our first parent sinned. God's reve- 
 lation is confirmed by our natural common - sense. And 
 as for the devil, we are aware of him every day, when- 
 ever temptations to sloth, anger, intemperance, or what 
 
 295
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 you will, beset us. "Why, then, should we doubt his 
 activity in the remote past? Are you satisfied now? 
 Or would you like to ask me something more?" 
 
 The girl leaned back in her chair and again looked up 
 at the ceiling, as though she thought and spoke more 
 readily when her eyes did not meet those of her ques- 
 tioner. 
 
 "And so," she said, at last, "that's how the land lies, 
 is it? I mean, that's how you and the Church in this 
 country look at things? Well, Mr. Barton, it's very 
 good of you to have come and have taken the trouble 
 to put it all so clearly. Thank you ever so much. I 
 understand quite enough. Would you have a cup of 
 tea? I should only be making a mess of it if I said any- 
 thing more." 
 
 Mr. Barton looked puzzled. "You understand quite 
 enough!" he exclaimed, with a slight smile. "Why, my 
 dear child, thus far we've only touched on the rudiments 
 the things every child starts with. You're keeping 
 something back. Let me hear it. I sha'n't be able to 
 help you unless you will tell me everything." 
 
 "Do you really mean that?" asked the girl. 
 
 "Can you," said Mr. Barton, dryly, "suppose any- 
 thing else? If I were your regular spiritual director 
 which I am not, at least not yet I should not only ask, 
 I should order you, to lay bare every perplexity which 
 lurks in the recesses of your mind." 
 
 "Well," said the girl, "if what I say doesn't please 
 you, you mustn't blame me that's all. Since you order 
 me, I'll obey orders. I'd better begin by telling you just 
 how I've been educated. I haven't had much schooling 
 not since I left the convent; but I've known one or 
 two of the cleverest men in France, and I knew some 
 clever men in Egypt, too, and they liked teaching and 
 showing things to a kid; so I've picked up a good few 
 of the facts that are generally known. Well, Mr. Bar- 
 ton, if you will have the exact truth, here goes. When 
 you talk to me about Adam as a man who was originally 
 
 296
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 perfect, and who then suddenly did something it 
 doesn't much matter what which put him out of order 
 himself, and the whole human race along with him, and 
 about a devil whether he was a snake or no who 
 managed to make him do it; and when you talk about 
 the book of Genesis being the grounds on which we be- 
 lieve this, because Genesis, even if only an allegory, is 
 God's own Word put by Him into the mouth of Moses 
 when you talk in this way you might, so far as I am 
 concerned, just as well be talking about old Deucalion's 
 stones, or the dragon's teeth of what's-his-name, or be 
 telling me that the earth is held up by an elephant and 
 the elephant held up by a tortoise. Why, in Egypt 
 Mr. Barton, please don't interrupt me I've seen imple- 
 ments that were ten thousand years old before the Church 
 makes out that Adam was born or thought of. And 
 when you talk about the first man having been perfect, 
 and then having committed a sin I have been taught 
 that the first man Dr. Gonteau has a model of his 
 bones which were found in Java that the first man was 
 a creature you could hardly have distinguished from a 
 monkey. And then, Mr. Barton, about anger and all 
 that what I've been taught is this, that men are angry, 
 not because of the devil, but because what we call anger 
 is a kind of protective instinct, without which no species 
 could have survived in the struggle for existence. And 
 as for the origin of sloth sloth comes from a bad liver 
 or else a relaxing climate. And then, look at hounds. 
 One hound's a bad feeder, another's what you call a 
 glutton. Do you think the devil keeps a staff at the 
 kennels ? That's how I've been taught to look at things. 
 The murder's out at last, and I'm sure you think I'm 
 not fit to stay in the room with any longer." 
 
 Mr. Barton, however, showed no inclination to go. 
 On the contrary, he seemed to be bracing himself for a 
 far from hopeless struggle. 
 
 " I suppose," he said, with an icy but not an unfriendly 
 sarcasm, "that your preceptors, who seem to have been 
 
 297
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 writers for the cheap rationalist press, forget to notice 
 that men differ from hounds in the trifling particular 
 that they are possessed of immortal souls." 
 
 "Yes," she said, "that's just it. If you really believe 
 in an immortal soul at all, I suppose you can believe 
 anything." 
 
 Mr. Barton's answer somewhat surprised his hearer. 
 "Certainly," he said, with an assenting inclination of 
 the head; "of course you can. Do but reflect on the 
 miracle of your own soul's existence, and you'll soon 
 realize, if you honestly desire the truth, that nothing 
 which the Church teaches is in itself incredible. I don't 
 despair of your finding the Light yet. But I must con- 
 fess you poor, unfortunate child that you're not at 
 present very fit to become a candidate for confirmation, 
 which, I think, is what your aunt would wish you to be." 
 
 "Oh," said the girl, "confirmation! She may make 
 herself easy about that. Bless you, I've been confirmed 
 already. I'm rather confused about time, but ever so 
 many years ago." 
 
 "You astonish me!" exclaimed Mr. Barton. "And 
 have you ever been to holy communion?" 
 
 "I very nearly didn't," she replied, "just to spite 
 that old image of a priest who made me sick with his 
 twaddle about the month of Mary. But the sisters 
 seemed to wish it, and they weren't bad creatures, so I 
 went. I shouldn't do so now. It would make me feel 
 too much of a fraud. Besides, why should I ? There'd 
 be no object in it." 
 
 The last words, said with perfect simplicity, made 
 Mr. Barton for the moment completely lose his bearings. 
 He rose as though he would leave the room, but he did 
 not. He stood looking down at her. Nothing of him 
 stirred but his lips, which twitched with anger. Then 
 with an effort, which invested him with a curious dig- 
 nity, he forced himself into another mood. 
 
 "And so," he began, in words whose calm had a pain- 
 ful quiver in it, "you see no object in approaching in 
 
 298
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 receiving what words shall I use? the body of Him 
 who died for you? Unhappy, most unhappy girl you 
 are without a Saviour I might almost say without a 
 God I might almost say without a soul so you are 
 determined to think till the day comes when you will 
 be called on to face all. You will then know that you 
 have a soul, which the hound has not a soul eternal, 
 indestructible, responsible for every act and thought 
 a soul for which Christ suffered, but for which for 
 which I will pray, for at present I can do nothing else, 
 that He may not have suffered in vain. And for what 
 have you blinded your eyes to all that is most real in 
 existence to the only things that will exist when this 
 world of brute, lifeless matter shall have passed away 
 like a shadow? You have blinded your eyes, you have 
 abandoned reverent knowledge, for the sake of all igno- 
 rance which may flatter your foolish pride, and call itself 
 by the names of science and scientific history, but which 
 really is as ridiculous for the educated human intellect 
 as the fetish-philosophy of the most abject savages 
 even though two of the cleverest men in France may 
 profess it. Before I go, let me ask you have you noth- 
 ing more to say to me?" 
 
 "Yes," said the girl. "I should like to ask you one 
 more question. Would you, like the priests abroad, if 
 priests had everything in their power, prevent divorce ? 
 Or, if divorced persons married, would you treat them 
 as outcasts and set all the world against them?" 
 
 " I have no objection," said Mr. Barton, " to answering 
 you. The Church accords no treatment to divorced per- 
 sons who marry, for in the eyes of the Church no such 
 persons exist. Marriage being indissoluble, real divorce 
 is impossible, and if those nominally divorced contract 
 a nominal marriage they are no better than those shame- 
 less ones whose very name I shrink from pronouncing 
 to you." 
 
 "Thank you," said the girl, with a sudden gleam in 
 her eyes. " You needn't be squeamish. Among the 
 
 ao 299
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 shameless ones are my own parents. Yes it's just as 
 I thought. Clericalism in England is the same as cleri- 
 calism in France. Why don't you shut your eyes so 
 as not to see a child of shame? Yes shut them do, 
 for I've still something more to say. I believe people 
 are married who suit each other, and as long as they suit 
 each other, and the law imposes conditions on them for 
 the sake of social convenience because of children and 
 family property; and priests pretend otherwise, and 
 talk about mysteries and sacraments, only because they 
 want always to be getting the whip-hand of everybody, 
 and they want to frighten everybody ; and they dress up 
 a lot of bogies called sins, or the four last things, hoping 
 that people to-day will still take these scarecrows seri- 
 ously. That was all very well for them once, but now 
 they're being found out. You talk about the four last 
 things. People know now that for themselves there's 
 only one last thing that's death ; and that for the uni- 
 verse there's no last at all. You tell me I shall live again, 
 and then find out my mistake; and as soon as I hear 
 you say this, you expect me to shake in my shoes. You 
 might just as well tell a diseased potato that it would live 
 again, and then find out that its disease was its own fault, 
 and be roasted forever in consequence before some ever- 
 lasting stove. Nature makes us what we are, just as it 
 makes potatoes; and when you ask me to believe that 
 a bishop by feeling my head with his fingers, or shaking 
 his silly ring at me, can make me any better or any worse 
 than I am, or that a priest has anything to do with the 
 rights or the wrongs of marriage, you might as well ask 
 me to do what they did in the French Revolution stick 
 up what you would call some shameless one, and worship 
 her as the goddess of reason. I can tell you this you 
 must remember that I speak by your order: if you want 
 me to worship any individual whatever, I'd far sooner 
 worship Dr. Gonteau or Dr. Thistlewood than " 
 
 "Silence!" exclaimed Mr. Barton. "I forbid you to 
 say a word further." And there was something in his 
 
 300
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 manner by which the girl was cowed. " I will not," he 
 continued, " ask you to consult your conscience, for you 
 say you have none. I will only remind you that a lady, 
 whatever her religious views, is usually sorry if she has 
 insulted and given acute pain to an invited and a friend- 
 ly guest. I would fain be your friend still, though no 
 good purpose would be served by my remaining with 
 you longer now; and if for some time to come I make 
 no attempt to see you again, my reason is not that I re- 
 sent your demeanor to myself personally, but that to- 
 morrow I am leaving England for a somewhat uncertain 
 period. You will not wish to shake hands with me; 
 and I fear that at this moment I could not bring myself 
 to touch yours." 
 
 "Mr. Barton, look here," cried the girl, as the priest 
 was disappearing through the doorway, "if I hit you 
 below the belt, I'm sorry; but you should not have put 
 my back up and pitched into my parents. It's not you 
 I hate, it's the system you represent. Damn him, he's 
 gone. These idiots always put you in the wrong if they 
 can, and then run away like cowards, thinking they've 
 bowled you out. Anyway, he won't be here to get me 
 into a row, and when he comes back I'll let him have it 
 again." 
 
 Mr. Barton escaped from the house, sick with a sense 
 of horror, as a man might be who for the first time has 
 seen a human being killed or befouled by some loath- 
 some pestilence. The general fact that a moral and in- 
 tellectual rabble, abetted by men like Dr. Thistlewood 
 and the excavators of bones at Southquay, were foment- 
 ing all over the world a rebellion against God and Christ, 
 was for him so familiar that it filled him with a chronic 
 and contemptuous animosity ; but except in the persons 
 of such men as Dr. Thistlewood, who were chance and 
 distant acquaintances, and who veiled their absurdities 
 by discretion, he had never had a bodily encounter with 
 the accursed thing before; and now its fangs had been 
 darted at him from the lips of a young girl. The memory 
 
 301
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 of her blasphemies seemed to lick him like tongues of 
 flame. Sometimes his heart, as he thought of her, grew 
 hard as flint ; sometimes it was almost broken ; and then 
 in the middle of his perturbations one thing came sud- 
 denly back to him the words which had passed between 
 him and her as to marriage. If she were a child of shame, 
 what was his own loved one ? And was not he personal- 
 ly preparing to throw himself on the good-will of those 
 parents whom he had allowed himself so justly, yet per- 
 haps unadvisedly, to denounce? Such reflections sad- 
 dened but they did not daunt him. They exhausted 
 themselves in a prayer " Lord, help me to rescue her 
 from their unhappy hands." By the earliest train next 
 morning he was to start on his pilgrimage to Nice.
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 THAT evening Miss Enid was curiously silent. To 
 Lady Susannah this seemed an excellent symptom, 
 and she said to her on the landing, as they both were 
 on their way to their bedrooms: 
 
 " I hope, my dear, that you got on well with Mr. Bar- 
 ton." 
 
 "Yes," said the girl, demurely. "I told him every- 
 thing perhaps even more than I had meant to do." 
 
 Lady Susannah took her by the hand and kissed her. 
 "Good-night, dear Enid," she said. "I am very, very 
 glad. Sleep well, my dear." 
 
 This last injunction, however, Miss Enid did not obey. 
 The image of Mr. Barton haunted her and drove rest 
 from her pillow. Had he lost his temper and stormed 
 at her, her feelings would have been less acute. It was 
 his self-control that exasperated her, his tone of unper- 
 turbed superiority, his daring to speak about orders 
 which conceivably it might be his duty to impose on 
 her. "This solemn jackanapes," she said to herself, 
 "talking the twaddle of his grandmother, and pre- 
 suming to tell his dear child how the world was made, 
 when there isn't a gamin in a state school who doesn't 
 know ten times more about the origin of the world than 
 he! This thing of cassocks and petticoats shaking his 
 Adams and his sacraments at me, as if they were a 
 baby's rattle he to pronounce his judgments on my 
 father, my mother, and myself! He to pronounce an 
 opinion on what his dear child ought to do or ought not 
 to do! I'll give him," she thought, "by the time he 
 gets back, something or other to pronounce upon ! 
 
 33
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 I'll make him sit up! He shall see if he can direct 
 m*\" 
 
 Here was resolve at last, which had the effect of sooth- 
 ing her, and, shorn of certain exaggerations, it was fresh 
 in her mind next morning. Directly after breakfast, 
 with a new light in her eyes, she drew Mr. Hugo into 
 a corner and held him in a whispered conversation, of 
 which Oswald was somewhat jealous till he happened to 
 catch a few words of it, and gathered that it had reference 
 to some species of mechanical invention. Whatever the 
 secret was, Mr. Hugo was visibly delighted with it, and 
 Oswald heard him say : 
 
 " Yes, of course, you could hire one; but if I were to 
 have one of my own, I should not expect to get it for 
 less than fifteen hundred pounds." 
 
 "Well," said Miss Enid, "you must do the best you 
 can for me. I sha'n't go out till it comes. I'm sick of 
 that rotten golf-course and the sort of people you meet 
 there. I don't mean Sam. I mean the men who call 
 themselves gentlemen, like that creature with a cringing 
 back I've seen another back like it who wanted, so 
 Oswald tells me, to know if I was an heiress. Sam's 
 worth the whole boiling of them." 
 
 The following day at luncheon Mr. Hugo's face was so 
 troubled by futile efforts to suppress an important smile 
 as to bring to Oswald the certainty that something or 
 other had been accomplished; and the mystery of the 
 plot was destined very soon to reveal itself. The meal 
 was drawing to its close when the quiet of the old- 
 fashioned room was broken by certain sounds which 
 Lady Susannah took for the trumpetings of a brass- 
 band at the door. She was expressing this view when 
 Miss Enid, who was listening with grave intentness, ex- 
 claimed, jumping up from her seat: 
 
 "Mr. Hugo, it's come! it's come! What fun, Aunt 
 Susannah! We must go to the door to look at it!" 
 
 "It?" repeated her aunt. "What do you mean by 
 'it'?" 
 
 304
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 "Oh," said Miss Enid, rapidly, "the motor I've hired 
 for a fortnight. Didn't you hear it tootling ? I can al- 
 most smell the petrol. I'll take you to Plymouth and 
 back in it before you can say ' knife.' " 
 
 Lady Susannah felt much like the proverbial hen when 
 she sees the duckling hatched by her first take to the 
 water. She was soon, however, at the front door, to- 
 gether with the rest of the party, and there, with a man 
 attached to it, pale of face and habited in black leather, 
 stood a long and powerful car which would accommo- 
 date some five passengers. 
 
 "Does she run all right?" said Miss Enid, with a nod 
 of freemasonry to the man. 
 
 "Sweet as can be," he replied, with the usual taci- 
 turnity of his class. 
 
 "Now," said Miss Enid, "who's game for an outing? 
 Don't all speak at once. You, Aunt Susannah? You, 
 Cousin George ? I won't have you, Oswald. You look 
 much too superior. Well, settle it among yourselves, 
 and I'll take her down the drive and back again just to 
 see how she climbs the hill." 
 
 " My dear!" exclaimed Lady Susannah, horror-stricken 
 by the sight of her niece, who was already in the driver's 
 seat. " You are not going to try to manage that thing 
 yourself! And without a hat, too! George, do you 
 think it's right?" 
 
 "Bless your heart!" said Miss Enid, "I drove a car 
 in the race last year between Cannes and Toulon." 
 
 The man, who meanwhile had got the engine in mo- 
 tion, hereupon took his place at her side, and the vehi- 
 cle, performing a very adroit evolution, swept away from 
 the doorstep and vanished between the walls of laurel. 
 
 "I do hope," gasped Lady Susannah, "that nothing 
 dreadful will happen to her." 
 
 "I hope so, too," said Mr. Carlton; "but there's a 
 terrible corner at the bottom." 
 
 These alarms, however, were not of very long dura- 
 tion. Before five minutes were over a hooting was 
 
 305
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 again heard, and the car burst from the laurels and 
 arrested itself at the door-step panting. No sooner had 
 this happened than a certain change was perceptible. 
 The professional mechanician had been relegated to a 
 back seat, and the seat next the driver was occupied by 
 Sir Rawlin Stantor. 
 
 "He was coming to call," said Miss Enid, "so I just 
 made him jump up." 
 
 The cordial welcomes with which Sir Rawlin was 
 greeted, together with the obvious fact of Miss Enid's 
 proficiency as a charioteer, combined to repress all 
 further comments on her recklessness. Orders were 
 given that the car should wait at the door, and Sir 
 Rawlin was brought in to the sound of many reproaches 
 for his late remissness in visiting Cliff's End and its oc- 
 cupants. He explained that of late his time had been 
 taken up with addressing electors in the outlying parts 
 of the constituency, and that he had, moreover, been 
 engaged in some personal canvassing also. 
 
 " How soon," asked Miss Enid, " do you mean to have 
 another go at it?" 
 
 Sir Rawlin replied that he intended that same after- 
 noon to call on some electors in a fishing town about ten 
 miles distant. 
 
 "Oh," said Miss Enid, "you just come with me. I'll 
 rattle you to Jericho and back in less than no time, if 
 you want it. And look here, Oswald you've some- 
 thing to say to him about your embassy. You can come, 
 after all ; and of course, Mr. Hugo, you. The more the 
 merrier. Now, Sir Rawlin, are you afraid?" 
 
 Sir Rawlin declared, with a laugh, that he had never 
 been afraid of anything, and matters were actually ar- 
 ranged in the way that Miss Enid had suggested. Sir 
 Rawlin stipulated only that her pace should not be 
 illegal, and that she should not kill his constituents be- 
 fore they had had time to vote for him. Oswald, who 
 had heard from Lady Conway that she would be back at 
 Southquay for Easter, was no longer so anxious as he 
 
 306
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 had been to start for Constantinople immediately, and 
 was able to enjoy the expedition without ulterior ob- 
 jects; while Mr. Hugo, who was engaged with a stop- 
 watch in timing the vehicle by the mile-stones, and pub- 
 lishing the results to his companions, almost felt as 
 though he were himself the inventor, and talked about 
 cranks and cylinders, carburetters, gears, and batteries 
 in a manner so abstruse and impressive that the mecha- 
 nician was struck dumb. Every one, in short, was de- 
 lighted ; and as for Miss Enid herself, she presently found 
 other excitement beyond the exhilaration of driving. 
 She discovered in Sir Rawlin an extraordinarily agree- 
 able companion. With a happy adaptability he made 
 her vocabulary his own; and exhibited so fraternal an 
 interest in her sports, her escapades, and her opinions, 
 that she not only told him how, on the occasion of her 
 visit to Egypt, she had ridden into the desert astride, and 
 dressed up as an Arab, but also revealed in confidence the 
 details of her encounter with Mr. Barton, "who," she add- 
 ed, "thank goodness, has, I hear, popped over to France." 
 
 Nor did matters end here ; for when they reached their 
 destination and Sir Rawlin introduced himself to some 
 fishermen who were lounging about the quay, she in- 
 sisted on sticking close to him and listening to all he 
 said. Presently she began making friends with these 
 weather-beaten strangers on her own account, and her 
 ready indignation at everything which they seemed to 
 regard as grievances had, so Sir Rawlin assured her, 
 secured for him more adherents than all the opinions or 
 promises set forth by himself. In the shop of the prin- 
 cipal draper she was no less successful. Sir Rawlin and 
 the man, who was a Methodist, were discussing religious 
 education, when Miss Enid, who was seated on the 
 counter, interposed with a "Yes that's right. Don't 
 knuckle under to the priests. Sir Rawlin knows their 
 tricks every bit as well as I do." 
 
 "I wish," said Sir Rawlin, as they were returning, 
 "that I had you for a canvasser." 
 
 307
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 "What!" she exclaimed; "do you mean that? I'll 
 tell you what, then you shall have. I suppose I must 
 pick up a bit of the lingo first, but I'll drive you about 
 and listen. I sha'n't be long in learning." 
 
 " Well," said Sir Rawlin, laughing, "if your aunt makes 
 no objection, and if you bring these cousins of yours, or 
 Mr. George Carlton, as a chaperon, I should often be 
 ready to say, in your own language: ' Done with you.' " 
 
 The result was that during the next few days Miss 
 Enid Wynn, in her motor, driving the Conservative 
 candidate and accompanied by one of her cousins, be- 
 came a frequent sight in Southquay, though a com- 
 plication of veils, and occasionally a pair of goggles, 
 would have made it difficult even for Lady Susannah 
 to recognize her. All the voters whom she addressed 
 from shopkeepers down to knots of workmen suppos- 
 ing her to be a relative of Sir Rawlin's, and not knowing 
 her name, were delighted with her. On anything male 
 she had the knack of bestowing an attention which had 
 something in it of individual flattery, and was totally 
 different from the condescension of any general gra- 
 ciousness. All this had its advantages. At the same 
 time it had its drawbacks, which Sir Rawlin explained, 
 in answer to a question of Dr. Thistlewood's, when, be- 
 fore things had gone far, he was dining at the Turkish 
 Castle. 
 
 "Miss Wynn," he said, "though a crude, is a very 
 acute young lady much more so than one would fancy 
 when first one hears her speak. She picks up political 
 arguments as quickly as she does scientific; but she's 
 too great an aptitude, when she talks to any voter who 
 is not decrepit, for turning his head in addition to his 
 prospective vote. One can see what happens from the 
 way in which she speaks of it afterward. 'The man,' she 
 will say, ' with the curly hair told me this ' ; or ' The man 
 with the mole on his cheek and the laughing mouth told 
 me that.' And I caught her indorsing her satisfaction 
 with the views of an auctioneer's clerk by a parting 
 
 308
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 shake of the hand which was certainly of needless 
 length." 
 
 "It's possible," said Dr. Thistlewood, "that I may, 
 one of these days, have something to confide to you 
 about the young lady myself." 
 
 "She's going to take me," replied Sir Rawlin, "to a 
 distant village to-morrow, but after that I must man- 
 age to dispense with her sendees." 
 
 Sir Rawlin felt that to do this without wounding her 
 feelings might be difficult, but circumstances unfore- 
 seen by him relieved him from all embarrassment. The 
 visit to the village had been accomplished and had 
 proved satisfactory, but the girl herself had shown no 
 wish to quit the vehicle. Her aspect also had under- 
 gone a certain change. She had discarded her veils ; she 
 was wearing a chauffeur's cap; and this, together with 
 a frankly masculine coat buttoned close under her chin, 
 transposed her, for the ordinary observer, into the like- 
 ness of a fresh young man. Except for a remark that 
 a man's dress was much more comfortable than a wom- 
 an's, she made no allusion to this change in her attire 
 until the outlying lamp-posts of Southquay were once 
 more drifting past them. Before them was a long, white 
 road running close to the sea, and bordered by an as- 
 phalt trottoir, which was dotted with groups of pedes- 
 trians few and far between. Suddenly the girl slack- 
 ened speed, applying the brake with such vehemence 
 that Mr. Hugo behind was thrown from his seat with 
 ignominy. 
 
 " Find me my goggles," she said to Sir Rawlin. " Quick, 
 please. I see in front of us that dreadful Colonel 
 O'Brian, with one of his dreadful associates, and I don't 
 want to have them staring at me." 
 
 The goggles were found and affixed with great rapid- 
 ity, the car meanwhile crawling. The speed was recov- 
 ered, but it had not become too great by the time the 
 Colonel and his sauntering companion were passed to 
 prevent Miss Enid, bold in her safe disguise, from re- 
 
 309
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 turning their careless stare with one, considerably keen- 
 er, of her own. 
 
 "That Colonel," she said, "makes me sick, and the 
 creature with him is worse. Look here, you" this was 
 addressed to the mechanician "you drive her the rest 
 of the way. I'm tired, and will go behind." 
 
 From that day forward her enthusiasm as a canvasser 
 ceased. Sir Rawlin was only too well pleased to accept 
 her explanation that the excitement of the work was too 
 much for her; and, indeed, when he heard, as he did 
 hear from Dr. Thistlewood, that for a couple of days 
 subsequently she had not appeared in public anywhere, 
 he was for the moment inclined to accept this explana- 
 tion as correct. When a few more days had elapsed he 
 saw reason to reconsider his opinion. 
 
 Early one afternoon she arrived at the Turkish Castle, 
 where Sir Rawlin happened to have been lunching, her 
 object being to secure from Dr. Thistlewood some treat- 
 ment for her wounded arm. This Dr. Thistlewood very 
 promptly applied in the room which contained his gramo- 
 phone and his other sets of apparatus; and the gramo- 
 phone in especial having attracted his patient's notice, 
 he proposed that she should commit to it some utterance 
 of her own and enjoy the experience of having it given 
 back to her. Sir Rawlin and Lord Cotswold were sum- 
 moned, in order that they might be present at the per- 
 formance, and Sir Rawlin, drawing her aside, suggested 
 in a confidential whisper that she should speak into the 
 receiver an account of her duel with Mr. Barton. The 
 girl started slightly, but did not appear displeased, and 
 the others, though ignorant of the event to which Sir 
 Rawlin alluded, begged that she would do in earnest 
 what had been asked of her half in joke. 
 
 "Well," she said, "don't any of you give me away. 
 Come, Dr. Thistlewood, stick me in the right place. How 
 must I speak? So? All right. Here goes, then. My 
 good aunt, who fancied I was a bit of a heathen, wanted 
 me to see that tame cat of a priest of hers; and partly 
 
 310
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 to please her for she's an awfully good sort and part- 
 ly to see what an English priest was like, and whether 
 he were really of the same breed as the rest well, I just 
 said I would." So she began, in tones placid enough; 
 but as she proceeded her memories of the scene de- 
 scribed seemed more and more to excite her, and she 
 spoke of Mr. Barton and the things which he held sacred 
 in language compared with which what she had actually 
 said to him was mild. If it had not been for the agree- 
 able modulations of her voice, which gave to what she 
 was saying a certain air of burlesque, Dr. Thistlewood 
 himself would have felt that the exhibition was painful. 
 
 "Thank you," he said. " You have given me a very 
 interesting document. Here is the special little box in 
 which I shall preserve your record. And now, young 
 lady, I've got something else to ask of you. I've heard 
 about your famous motor, and I should like to have a 
 drive in it myself with you. Which day will you take 
 me?" 
 
 The girl frowned. "Will the end of- the week do?" 
 she asked, after some reflection. " I believe I shall be 
 free then, and I'll take you, if you like it, to the other 
 end of nowhere." 
 
 "Then that," said Dr. Thistlewood, "is an engage- 
 ment. Look, Lord Cotswold is speaking to you. Would 
 you like to go with him and see the outside of the house ? 
 He'll show you the great crack made in the wall by the 
 lightning." 
 
 She assented to this proposal with alacrity, and when 
 she and her guide were gone Dr. Thistlewood addressed 
 Sir Rawlin with a face graver than usual. 
 
 "You're lucky," he said, "in having got rid of your 
 canvasser. That young woman is a very remarkable 
 person. You, it is probable, only half understand her. 
 You told me yourself a few odd things with regard to 
 her. I can tell you some others, and I think I may as 
 well do so. She's no more fit have you ever suspected 
 this ? to be trusted with a man especially a man some-
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 what below her in station than a child is to be trusted 
 with a box of matches and gunpowder. My nurse here, 
 who went with Miss Vivian to Malvern, was my first in- 
 formant. She told me that Miss Wynn, driving a motor 
 alone, has more than once been seen to pick up some 
 pedestrian in each case a well-dressed male whom 
 she happened to overtake in one of the country roads, 
 and has carried him off with her on a drive of unknown 
 duration. One of these males was Martin, a clerk in 
 an auctioneer's office. Another was a farrier from Win- 
 combe. But that's not all. There's a man staying in 
 this town who calls himself an Italian count, and who 
 has managed to get some access to what here calls it- 
 self society. Of this gentleman I believe that I know 
 something. My Italian servant has been inquiring 
 about him at the Italian pastry-cook's. If I am right, 
 he's an impostor of the vilest kind. At all events he 
 looks it, for I've passed him twice in the street. Well, 
 it appears that this man is the last of the favored group 
 that Miss Enid Wynn has been taking with her on these 
 famous country excursions. She met him, apparently 
 by appointment, at a place about three miles off, where 
 the road crosses the railway, and the man who has 
 charge of the gates it's odd how these things come 
 round to one declares that the same man, walking with 
 a military gentleman, the gates being then shut, had 
 accosted the same young lady there two or three days 
 before; that a sort of scene ensued because she declined 
 to engage in conversation with him, and that she nearly 
 knocked him down with her car as soon as the gates 
 were opened." 
 
 "Good Heavens!" exclaimed Sir Rawlin. "Why, that 
 must be the very man a friend of Colonel O' Brian's 
 the very man whom she passed in the road when she 
 was driving me home from a meeting. She had out her 
 goggles the moment she set eyes on him, and when we 
 went by him she stared I remember noticing this as 
 though she were not quite sure whether he were an old 
 
 312
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 acquaintance or no. From her conduct directly after- 
 ward I now conclude that she recognized him, and had 
 every desire that he should not recognize her." 
 
 A curious smile formed itself on Dr. Thistlewood's lips. 
 " I felt sure I was right," he said, with a slight nod. " I 
 am, as you are aware, in the confidence of the young 
 lady's family, and of the family doctor also. So for that 
 reason, and perhaps for others, my mouth is sealed 
 about some things. Could I only tell you all I know, 
 and all I suspect as well, you would be both surprised 
 and interested. Anyhow, Sir Rawlin, you may be really 
 thankful for this: that Miss Wynn's aberrations have 
 nothing to do with you. I only hope that they may 
 give no trouble to her excellent relations here. About 
 that I am not so sure. I shall do my best to pre- 
 vent it."
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 WHATEVER Miss Wynn's faults in other respects 
 might be, she was, at all events, true to her engage- 
 ment with Dr. Thistlewood. Alone in her motor, the 
 mechanician having been left behind, she reached the 
 Turkish Castle at the hour and on the afternoon ap- 
 pointed, and greeted him with a smile, as he did not 
 fail to observe, the unusual composure of which had a 
 hint in it of malicious triumph. 
 
 "I told you," she said, "that by this time I should be 
 free. I am; and I'm game to drive you to any mortal 
 place you wish. What do you say? You want to go 
 in the direction of Stoke Abbot ? Well, if we do that I 
 must put on some new goggles. They cover one up 
 better, for the dust on the Stoke road is simply enough 
 to smother you." 
 
 He noticed that, while in the town, she avoided the 
 more frequented streets and drove with almost needless 
 caution; but, even so, faces would be turned to look at 
 her, expressive of a mystified and semi-derisive interest. 
 
 "It's a pity," Dr. Thistlewood began, as soon as they 
 were out in the country, "that you don't happen to be 
 standing for the Southquay Division yourself. From 
 various little things I've heard, and from what I have 
 seen just now, I gather that you've made a greater sensa- 
 tion here than the man who is the actual candidate." 
 
 The girl looked at him quickly. "Do you mean that 
 for a sermon?" she said. "Your tone is like Mr. Bar- 
 ton's. I hope you're not going to remind me of that 
 double-distilled idiot. Look here, Dr. Gustav, have 
 some of the fools been telling you that I drive too fast ?
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 I've only knocked down one child I wish it had been 
 a certain man but the brat wasn't hurt a bit; and I 
 also went over two dogs and a chicken. But in each 
 case I made things right on the spot. The child cost 
 me a fiver little blubbering fool. I say, has any one 
 been making complaints to my aunt? Please, if they 
 have, tell her I've a bee in my bonnet, and that nothing 
 I do means anything. Don't preach any more, but say 
 where you want to go. Three roads branch off on the 
 other side of the railway crossing. I shall take you at 
 a rush past that, for I can't bear being hung up there; 
 so hold on for all you're worth." 
 
 "I will ask you," said Dr. Thistlewood, "to take the 
 first turning to the left. I've studied the map, and I 
 know how the roads run. That one goes to a place 
 which I'm very anxious to see a town on the bor- 
 ders of Dartmoor, with many curious buildings. King's 
 Hampton, its name is. We can ask the way farther on, 
 if we're ever in any doubt about it." 
 
 "King's Hampton," said the girl, frowning. "That's 
 a rotten sort of place to go to, if the guide-books tell the 
 truth. Still, if you've set your heart on it, I don't care. 
 Why should I? We can just spin through the town 
 and come back by another road." 
 
 Dr. Thistlewood hereupon let the subject of their 
 destination drop till the old-fashioned market-town, 
 overlooking a wooded valley, came in sight, with its 
 mellow red - brick houses and the huge tower of its 
 church, beyond which slopes of moorland ascended tow- 
 ard a realm of crags. The girl at this point was be- 
 ginning to quicken her pace, as though bent on giving 
 King's Hampton as little of her presence as possible, 
 when Dr. Thistlewood observed that his reason for wish- 
 ing to visit it was his interest an historical interest 
 in one of its public structures. 
 
 "Well," said the girl, "structures are nothing to me; 
 and if there's anything I hate, it's waiting in a country 
 street where every child in the place comes buzzing 
 
 3*5
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 round the car like a blue-bottle. If you want to look 
 at your structure, I'd sooner wait for you here. I sup- 
 pose half an hour will do you, and I promise not to run 
 away." 
 
 Dr. Thistlewood assented, declaring that his project- 
 ed exploration would probably be accomplished in a 
 time even shorter than that named by her. His esti- 
 mate was justified by events, and in less than half an 
 hour he was again seated by her side. 
 
 "I did not," he said, as they started on their home- 
 ward journey, "find that King's Hampton was a rotten 
 little place at all. Many of the houses looked to me 
 particularly interesting. I went into only one of them. 
 It was called the Lion Hotel. It was built in the reign 
 of King William and Queen Mary. Under these sov- 
 ereigns some strange events occurred in it. I had learned 
 that from one of the guide-books. Another strange 
 event has occurred in it during the reign of King Ed- 
 ward. I learned that from rumor, but I wished to be 
 satisfied as to its accuracy. It appears to be really true 
 that a young lady of some position, driving a motor 
 whose number has enabled certain gossips to identify 
 her, brought a stranger to this hotel a man of curious 
 aspect and gave him luncheon in a private sitting- 
 room with a very fine plaster ceiling. The gentleman, 
 who drank a bottle of old Burgundy and expressed him- 
 self in a foreign language, became so excited at one stage 
 of the proceedings, and stamped with such vigor on the 
 floor, that the maid, approaching the door with an apple- 
 tart in her hands, thought there was going to be murder 
 and cautiously called the landlord. By the time the 
 landlord appeared the violence of the quarrel was sub- 
 siding; but both the listeners heard the young lady 
 bring her guest to order by some threat spoken in Eng- 
 lish, the meaning of which was that she somehow had the 
 whip-hand of him. I got this out of the landlord, and I 
 managed to make light of the matter by telling him that 
 the young lady was a foreigner, and that the man a 
 
 316
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 disreputable cousin of hers, obliged for political reasons 
 to escape from his own country had been trying to 
 extort money from one relative after another, and had 
 come to Southquay in order to victimize her. 'It's a 
 pity,' I added, 'that he hasn't committed an offence 
 against the laws of England, for then we could shut him 
 up.' " Dr. Thistlewood fancied but he could not be 
 quite sure that he heard his companion mutter be- 
 tween her teeth, "He has!" "I was happy to find," he 
 continued, "that mine host both accepted my explana- 
 tion and was disappointed by it, and a little present 
 which I made him will, I think, have the effect of pre- 
 venting the spread of any gossip which will do much 
 harm to anybody." 
 
 The girl's face, during the course of Dr. Thistlewood's 
 narrative, had gradually clouded ov r er, the color on her 
 cheeks had deepened, and she had affected an unnatural 
 preoccupation with the management and mechanism of 
 the car. At last, without turning to her companion, she 
 said, in a low and constrained tone : 
 
 "You're a ripper! though you don't know one-half, 
 nor even a damned quarter, of what you're talking about. 
 Why," she continued, presently, as if repenting of her 
 magnanimity "why didn't you say what's true that 
 I met that man at the golf-club? Damn these stones! 
 They tear one's tires to pieces. You've heard every- 
 thing wrong. What right have you to meddle? How 
 did you hear what you did hear?" 
 
 " Hear it !" said Dr. Thistlewood, with a laugh. " There 
 was not much difficulty in hearing it. It will be all 
 we can do to prevent your aunt hearing it also. But 
 this is not all I've heard. There's an auctioneer's clerk 
 called Martin. You had a little flirtation with him in 
 the office, when you played at canvassing. Your driv- 
 ing that man into the country with you was an act of 
 incredible folly. When you look back over certain past 
 events, don't you think so yourself?" 
 
 " I dare say it was silly," the girl answered, ungracious-
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 ly. "But what harm does it do me? Thank God, I'm 
 not dependent on the tittle-tattle of Southquay trades- 
 men, though you, it appears, consider their conversation 
 interesting. My driving that man Martin was only a 
 bit of a lark ; and the same thing is true about that other 
 man whom I met with old O'Brian on the golf-course. 
 Your friend the landlord will bear witness that I knew 
 how to put him in his place. And, damn it all, Dr. 
 Thistlewood, why should you put your oar in? When 
 Dr. Gonteau told you I'd been a bit off color, and he 
 and my people asked you to bring me to Cliff's End, I 
 thought you were a brick. You made everything easy. 
 I never fancied you would turn into a second Mr. Bar- 
 ton, and preach to me. I'm as strong as a horse now, 
 and can manage my own business. Have I lost my 
 nerve? Watch me as I dodge between those two 
 carts." 
 
 " I am not preaching you a sermon," said Dr. Thistle- 
 wood, "on the ten commandments. Except for your 
 own sake, and so far as I am concerned personally, you 
 would, if you broke the whole of them, be only the more 
 interesting. I am preaching to you, for your own sake, 
 on the eleventh 'Thou shalt not be found out'; or, if 
 you like it better, 'Always keep an eye on the con- 
 sequences.' Look back, as I said before, on certain 
 past events. Have they been barren of consequences 
 from which, at this very moment, you would be glad 
 enough if a friend like myself could shield you ? Think 
 it over, and don't speak till you've done so." 
 
 An expression of doggedness, mixed with sullen, ob- 
 scure anxiety, had been gathering on the girl's face, and 
 it was not until they had turned into the main road to 
 Southquay that either of them spoke again. She, how- 
 ever, more than once had stolen a glance at Dr. Thistle- 
 wood, and had noticed, with a growing irritation, that 
 he seemed to be unconscious of her existence unless, 
 indeed, it were some thought of herself that fed his eyes 
 with the light of a half-cynical smile.
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 At last she could stand it no longer. "Well," she 
 said, "what's the matter with you? Do speak out, and 
 have done with it. What are those mysterious con- 
 sequences, and what are those past events? You are 
 surely not still making a Mont Blanc of a mole-hill I 
 mean because I lunched with that man I've forgot- 
 ten his very name by this time whom I met on the 
 golf - course and snubbed when he became imperti- 
 nent? I never want to set eyes on his beastly face 
 again." 
 
 "I am glad," said Dr. Thistlewood, turning to her, 
 "that you have taken my advice, and thought. You 
 say, however, that you have forgotten the name of the 
 impertinent gentleman in question. Myself, I am quite 
 familiar with it. Do you may I ask, since you talk 
 about past events remember a street, older than the 
 Lion Hotel, and perhaps even richer in associations, 
 called the Via Caterina? In that street is an Albergo, 
 frequented chiefly by Italians. And do you also this 
 is taking you rather a long jump remember another 
 inn at a place called Tarbat? Tarbat is in one of the 
 Hebrides. It is well known for its homespuns." 
 
 The girl made no answer, but the car suddenly swerved 
 a little. It swerved for a second only, and her hands 
 regrasped the steering - wheel. The force with which 
 they seemed to cling to the wooden rim was remark- 
 able. 
 
 " In the books of those two inns," Dr. Thistlewood 
 continued, presently, "certain facts are recorded. They 
 are these." He stooped toward her, and said some- 
 thing to her in a measured undertone. The girl's feel- 
 ings were already highly strung, and the last word of 
 this communication caused her to give a violent start; 
 but the words which followed were not addressed to 
 her companion. 
 
 " Hi, you there!" she shouted to the driver of a baker's 
 cart in front of them, "what the hell do you mean by 
 not sticking to the right side of the road?"
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 "For Heaven's sake," exclaimed Dr. Thistlewood, 
 "look out where you're going!" 
 
 He had hardly time to speak before the girl, agitated 
 by her own emotions, had, in an effort to avoid touching 
 the cart, run her right-hand wheels on to a road-mender's 
 heap of stones. The car was not capsized, though the 
 resulting shock was considerable, the driver with in- 
 stinctive skill restoring it to its normal course; but in 
 executing this manoeuvre she failed to see that in front 
 of her was a second vehicle, which had been hidden from 
 observation by the first a large wagon laden with pro- 
 truding fagots. Again her instinctive skill saved her 
 from a direct collision, but some of the twigs, or rather 
 branches, struck her violently on the face, tearing the 
 goggles from her face, slightly scratching her cheeks, 
 and throwing her, with a lurch, against the body of the 
 man beside her. Luckily the car by this time was as- 
 cending a steep hill. 
 
 "Quick!" said Dr. Thistlewood, laying his hands on 
 the steering-wheel. "Change places at once. I can 
 drive as well as you can." 
 
 The girl turned on him a pale, consenting look. The 
 change was effected, she was hardly conscious how, and, 
 subsiding into her new position, she pressed her hands 
 to her eyes. 
 
 "Are your eyes hurt?" he asked, curtly, but not un- 
 kindly. "The scratch on your cheek is nothing." 
 
 She removed her hands and looked at him, like a 
 child obeying orders. 
 
 " I can see you," she said. " Damn it, I'm not blind!" 
 She spoke with intelligence, but yet with a certain 
 apathy. 
 
 "Listen," said Dr. Thistlewood. "Do you think you 
 can understand what I am saying to you? I'm not 
 going to frighten your friends at Cliff's End about you. 
 I shall tell them one thing only that some sticks in a 
 wagon hit you that your eyes are inflamed that you've 
 had a severe shaking that you will have to be kept and 
 
 320
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 looked after in a dark room for a week and that, in- 
 stead of taking you home, I have, on my own respon- 
 sibility, committed you to the care of a nurse at the 
 Turkish Castle, where I shall myself be able to watch 
 you from day to day."
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 "\/OU may," said Dr. Thistlewood to Lady Susannah, 
 
 J a few days later, "be quite easy in your mind 
 about Miss Wynn. She has suffered no damage not 
 even a scratch which nature and a darkened room 
 won't very soon have cured. The wonder is she was not 
 killed. One thing, however, my dear lady, is plain 
 she mustn't come back to you. If she did, there's no 
 knowing what mischief she would be up to next. About 
 that matter her father is quite determined." 
 
 "Yes," said Lady Susannah, with an odd, whimsical 
 smile, "I have heard from him myself also. I don't 
 think I could, with the best will in the world, be re- 
 sponsible for her much longer. You'll allow me to 
 come, won't you, and see her before she goes? There'd 
 be something so forlorn in her slipping off without a 
 word." 
 
 Dr. Thistlewood shrugged his shoulders. "Well," he 
 said, "in a day or two you might do that, if you wished 
 it, but she's not yet in a mood for any family inter- 
 views. She knows she has made a fool of herself, though 
 her obstinacy won't admit it; and you may take the 
 state of her temper as evidence of her physical strength. 
 I honestly believe that the kindest thing you can do is 
 to let her go off quietly, without what she would feel as 
 the humiliation of any parting scene, and she can say 
 her adieus to you and thank you I'm sure that she 
 wishes this through me." 
 
 " If that's still your opinion when the time for her de- 
 parture comes," said Lady Susannah, with kindly re- 
 luctance, "I'll be guided by it. I see your point. What 
 
 32?
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 seems the unkind thing is sometimes really the kind- 
 est." 
 
 "And now," said Dr. Thistlewood, "I think, though 
 I'm not perfectly certain, that, without raising false 
 hopes, I may tell you something that will please you. 
 Miss Vivian, from what I have learned this morning, 
 seems on the road to her own recovery also ; and I hope 
 it may be my pleasant office, when I have seen Miss 
 Wynn off safe and sound on her journey, to bring Miss 
 Nest back to you equally safe and sound. I can't name 
 the day, but it won't be very far distant." 
 
 Lady Susannah's face lit up with pleasure. Her mis- 
 givings with regard to Miss Enid disappeared from her 
 consciousness, and when she communicated to her fam- 
 ily the prospect of Nest's return a spirit of pleasure 
 and excitement diffused itself through the entire house. 
 Days, however, went on, and, so far as Dr. Thistlewood 
 was concerned, nothing further was heard of this de- 
 sired event; but one morning, from quite another quar- 
 ter, Lady Susannah found herself the recipient of news 
 relating to it. The news came through a letter, and the 
 writer of the letter was Mr. Barton. He wrote: 
 
 "DEAR LADY SUSANNAH, I thank God very humbly for the 
 light which He is now permitting to shine through my doubts 
 and darkness. You will, I believe, understand the conflict of 
 feelings with which I prepared to approach, in the mood neces- 
 sary for the occasion, a parent whose marriage is no marriage in 
 the eyes of any true Christian. When I called first at their villa 
 Captain and Mrs. Vivian were absent, but were expected back 
 shortly, so I waited at Cimiez for their return. At last I saw 
 him. The ways of the human heart are wonderful. It seems 
 to me that his errors have been due to weakness. He is kind 
 and generous to the poor here. It is grievous to think that he 
 cannot work with the Church. This thought grieves me. He 
 received me with perfect courtesy, and when I had finished my 
 explanations he treated me with a kindness which brought tears 
 to my eyes. He told me that my wishes had his entire ap- 
 proval. There, however, he stopped short; for when I asked 
 him where she was, he absolutely refused to tell me. I ought 
 here to admit one thing. The father's reticence shows me that 
 
 323
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 I was wrong in my suspicions that all this mystery was of Dr. 
 Thistlewood's making. Captain Vivian himself insisted that till 
 his daughter was absolutely recovered no friend was to write 
 to her or approach her or hold any communication with her 
 whatsoever, or find out where or how she was being treated. 
 But while this conversation was in progress a singular thing 
 happened Captain Vivian received a telegram. As he read it 
 a change came over his whole expression. He handed me the 
 telegram to read, and what do you think it was ? ' Recovery of 
 N. V. in a few days almost certain. Will bring her back to Lady 
 S. probably in course of week.' The telegram had no signature. 
 I presume it was from Dr. Thistlewood. I did not even think 
 of asking. Thank God thank God! If possible, I shall start 
 by earliest train to-morrow, hoping soon to see you all again, 
 and to take my thankful part in our own Easter services." 
 
 The following morning, not long after breakfast, Dr. 
 Thistlewood himself inquired for Lady Susannah, and 
 she saw from his face that he brought with him some in- 
 telligence. 
 
 "Miss Vivian will be back," he said, "before the end 
 of the week. As for Miss Wynn, please be guided by 
 me, and don't attempt to have any parting scenes. She 
 doesn't wish it herself. Leave her to me and the nurse, 
 and suppose that she has gone already. And now, my 
 dear lady, I can't tell you any more, for I'm on my way 
 to the station. I have to be in London for a night, and 
 I'm travelling with our friend Sir Rawlin. Have you 
 seen the morning paper? He's in Sir Rawlin is in 
 with a five-hundred majority. I dare say that, with 
 these domestic anxieties, you'd forgotten that the poll 
 was yesterday or that there was to be an election at 
 all." 
 
 "I am," said Lady Susannah, "indeed, delighted to 
 hear that for our own sakes, and for his sake too. Sir 
 Rawlin was devoted to Nest, and you know what he's 
 done for Oswald. We've hardly seen him lately. I 
 suppose he hasn't had much time. And now, before 
 you go, I should like to show you a letter. I'm not be- 
 traying secrets, for I know you are in the writer's con- 
 
 324 '
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 fidence. The telegram he mentions was, I suppose, sent 
 by you." 
 
 Dr. Thistlewood took a rapid survey of Mr. Barton's 
 closely written pages. 
 
 "Yes," he said, "the telegram was mine. Poor man, 
 I had divined his secret long before he confided it to me. 
 Don't you think he may find that he's reckoning without 
 his hostess?" 
 
 "No," replied Lady Susannah, "I assure you you're 
 quite wrong there. Nest has told him quite plainly 
 I had this from himself that her feeling for him was the 
 same as his for her. They quite understand each other. 
 There's no doubt about that." 
 
 " Indeed !" said Dr. Thistlewood. " That interests me. 
 I suppose this confession took place let me see if I can 
 guess when. Was it on the afternoon of the day after 
 Lord Cotswold's party, when the invalid had had a 
 temporary recovery and came down-stairs for a little? 
 It was was it? I thought so. Well, we shall see what 
 happens. I hope that everything will turn out as he 
 wishes. And now, good-bye. Most likely when we next 
 meet I shall be bringing the young lady with me." 
 
 Mr. Barton, while his affairs were being thus discussed, 
 was already approaching Paris the happiest and the 
 gravest passenger on the slow train called a "rapide." 
 The French Riviera had at one time been well known to 
 him. On his outward journey he was blind to all its 
 remembered beauty; but its blue skies, its aloes, and the 
 sparklings of its white houses, seen through the windows 
 of his carriage, as he started on his way home, shone for 
 him like the celestial city, and were charged with a prom- 
 ise which he never had known of old. He looked out in 
 the glow of the dazzling noon at the ancient towers of 
 Tarascon, remembering bits of building which he had 
 himself once sketched, or fixed his eyes on some far-off 
 mountain sanctuary to whose immemorial pieties his 
 heart made a new pilgrimage, thinking that some day 
 he might kneel there with another life beating at his side. 
 
 325
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 Then, as he sped northward, and cypress and olive van- 
 ished, and Gothic spire and pinnacle showed above half- 
 fledged branches, he saw himself bringing at Whitsuntide 
 his bride-elect to her confirmation. Then would follow 
 the day of her first communion, and then, a week or so 
 later, the sacred rapture of marriage, with a voice from 
 Eden breathing through pointed English arches. 
 
 It was midnight when he reached South quay, and he 
 remained, after a hasty supper, for a long hour in prayer. 
 The act of prayer itself, he found, had acquired a new 
 character. No less intense than formerly, it was accom- 
 panied by a less painful strain. Approaching the feet 
 of his Master hand in hand with the loved one, her love 
 seemed to surround him, and his Divine Master also, 
 with an atmosphere of reconciliation altogether strange 
 to his experience. Lines of poetry some of them from 
 Shelley, the unbeliever mixed themselves with his 
 orisons, and became a congruous part of them. Next 
 morning when he went into the garden, before the dews 
 were dry, the air and the fresh scents went through him 
 with their promise and welcome, and with bent head, 
 and in words almost articulate, he ejaculated: "Lord, 
 Thou hast married me to Thy creature, the Spring, also." 
 He even found himself repeating lines which to him had 
 before been meaningless: 
 
 " What are all these kisses worth, 
 If she kiss not me?" 
 
 Trivial things tread on the heels of the serious. They 
 did so in Mr. Barton's case when, before sitting down to 
 breakfast, he handed a note to his maid-servant which 
 informed Lady Susannah of his arrival, and which he 
 desired that a messenger might take to Cliff's End at 
 once. He was not much given to casual conversation 
 with his attendant, but often, when he had, as now, 
 returned after some days' absence, he would ask her how 
 she was and whether there were any news. He did so 
 on the present occasion as he put the letter into her 
 
 326
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 hands, expecting nothing but a smile and the custom- 
 ary formal answer. The smile, indeed, came punctually, 
 but it was at once much broader and more charged with 
 meaning than usual, and was followed by news of a very 
 definite kind. 
 
 "You won't have heard, sir," she said, "what's been 
 going on at Cliff's End." 
 
 Mr. Barton in general discouraged all private tale- 
 bearing, but necessity knows no laws, and he hastily ex- 
 claimed : 
 
 "No. What?" 
 
 "Why, since you've been away, sir," said the maid, 
 who needed little encouragement, " the young lady who's 
 been staying there has set everybody in the place talk- 
 ing. She began by going about with Sir Rawlin Stantor 
 canvassing, till he couldn't stand it no longer. She was 
 hand and glove, they say, with all the young fellows in 
 the town, and she took Martin, the auctioneer's clerk, 
 and some others, and an outlandish foreign nobleman, 
 quite alone and loverlike, for jaunts with her into the 
 country; and she nearly smashed the car for 'twas all 
 done in a motor when the strange doctor was with her, 
 and she hurt her eyes I don't think she was blinded 
 and was taken to the Turkish Castle to be under the 
 doctor's care." 
 
 Mr. Barton contracted his face into an expression of 
 appropriate disapproval, under cover of which he said, 
 quickly : 
 
 " And is the young lady at the Turkish Castle 
 still?" 
 
 The maid replied that she did not know for certain, 
 but had heard "as how the young lady was to be took 
 away." 
 
 "When I saw her," said Mr. Barton, "I thought she 
 was likely to be rash. I trust that nothing serious has 
 happened to her. Very well, Susan ; you will give that 
 letter to Richards. And stay did the organist come 
 here to see me yesterday?" 
 
 327
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 The intelligence which he had just heard was, in one 
 way, not displeasing to him, since it showed how per- 
 verted principles translated themselves into monstrous 
 acts; and the annoyance caused him by what seemed 
 at least the chance that Miss Wynn might be in the 
 neighborhood still, real though it was, was slight. She 
 had, in any case, left Cliff's End, even if Miss Vivian had 
 not actually come, and there was, he felt convinced, 
 no danger of her returning. For the rest, the thought 
 of all those indecent follies merely renewed, and indeed 
 gave a sharper edge to, the indignation which she had 
 originally aroused in him by the atrocities both of her 
 mind and language. An insult to things and beliefs 
 which they hold supremely sacred affects such men as 
 Mr. Barton like a blow struck at themselves, except for 
 the fact that they hold themselves bound to avenge, 
 not pardon it. Had there been an Inquisition in Eng- 
 land, Mr. Barton would have been an Inquisitor, and 
 Miss Wynn might well have been in danger of the 
 dungeon, if not the stake. The Inquisitor's bitterness, 
 however, sank at once into abeyance when a tray was 
 presented to him, on whose black japanned surface lay 
 a letter from Lady Susannah her prompt answer to 
 his own. He received it with the reverence due to some 
 gift from heaven. Its contents, though not quite all, 
 were nearly all he had hoped for. 
 
 "Enid," it said, "who was finding this place too dull 
 for her, received the other day a shock when driving 
 herself in a motor-car. She only just escaped what 
 might have been a most frightful accident. Dr. This- 
 tlewood, who has some rooms which he has furnished 
 for future patients in a wing of the Turkish Castle, is 
 taking her under his care till she leaves, and will bring 
 back Nest to us at the earliest possible moment, as soon 
 as poor Enid has taken her departure for good. This 
 will probably be to-morrow, or at latest the day after. 
 I will send you a note as soon as I know for certain, and 
 I believe I shall be doing right though I cannot be 
 
 328
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 quite sure in arranging that you shall meet her at the 
 very first opportunity." 
 
 There was one phrase here which gave him some slight 
 disquiet. What did Lady Susannah mean by saying 
 that "she was not quite sure " ? It was obvious, he said 
 to himself, when he had thought the matter over, that 
 Miss Vivian's extreme youth, and the chance of her thus 
 not knowing her own mind, had been troubling Lady 
 Susannah with scruples, which in her case were natural 
 enough, but which were to himself ludicrous. The ob- 
 ject of his love had, with the perfect candor of inno- 
 cence, made an avowal of her feelings for him even be- 
 fore he had dared to ask it, and the only temptations 
 to any change of mind which might threaten her were 
 merely such physical weaknesses as would call for a hus- 
 band's aid. 
 
 Throughout that day, which he gave up to parish busi- 
 ness, he was agitated by what he knew to be the pre- 
 mature hope that the post or a messenger would bring 
 him another letter summoning him to Cliff's End at 
 some stated hour to-morrow; but night came without 
 any such letter reaching him, and, waking early next 
 morning with a lover's pleasurable restlessness, he found 
 himself sallying forth toward the well-remembered path 
 by the sea, where he and Miss Vivian had indulged in 
 their first intimate conversation, and his personal attach- 
 ment to her had troubled him with its first obscure pre- 
 monitions. 
 
 His shortest way to this path lay down a sloping field, 
 from the higher parts of which the turrets of the Turkish 
 Castle could be seen on one side and the ilexes of Cliff's 
 End on the other, and from both homesteads silvery 
 streaks of smoke were beginning to go up toward the 
 blueness in the wake of the singing larks. All the youth 
 of the world and all the purities of the spirit blew up to 
 Mr. Barton from the bosom of the morning sea. Like 
 Wordsworth, "he read unutterable love" in everything. 
 
 The seaward path, toward which he was descending 
 329
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 slowly, hidden though it was at intervals by gorse bushes, 
 clumps of trees, and the irregular configurations of the 
 ground, was nevertheless visible to him for the larger 
 part of its course. He fancied, as he looked, that he 
 could almost identify her footprints at certain places 
 which he associated with certain words of hers and cer- 
 tain expressions of her face. There she had quoted Shel- 
 ley to him ; there a little farther on some uplifting of 
 the spirit had brought tears to her eyes; and there he 
 had given her his gifts the incense and his Secret Way. 
 All these memories now tingled with happy promises 
 not for to-day, perhaps, but for to-morrow, or the day 
 after. He could afford to wait, since waiting seemed 
 itself to be such an act of rapture. 
 
 Experiences of this kind are enhanced by, if they do 
 not always require, those conditions of silence and se- 
 clusion which Mr. Barton was now enjoying. His feel- 
 ings, therefore, suffered a momentary though not a very 
 serious disturbance when he suddenly realized that from 
 the direction of the Turkish Castle two figures were mov- 
 ing along the path which he was about to join, the 
 one following the other at a distance of some dozen 
 yards. Both were women. The hindmost of them was 
 evidently of a sober age, and moved with a determined 
 and not very elegant stride. The other, as evidently, 
 was young; she had the gait of a lady, and, in accord- 
 ance with a tendency very common among expectant 
 lovers, to see the expected object in any distant figure 
 of the same age and sex, Mr. Barton was visited by what 
 he recognized as the fantastic idea that the foremost of 
 these matutinal wanderers was none other than Miss 
 Vivian herself. 
 
 To this idea, like most lovers under similar circum- 
 stances, though he did not accord it his belief, he sur- 
 rendered the control of his actions, and hastening his 
 pace he made for a small thicket which the seaward 
 pathway traversed, and from which, if he could reach it 
 soon enough, he would be able, without exposing him- 
 
 330
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 self, to observe the grotesque difference between his 
 fancy and actual fact. His activity was such that he 
 was hidden in a shelter of firs and brambles just at the 
 moment when both the figures observed by him were 
 approaching a difficult stile at a level somewhat lower 
 than his own. For a minute he could see neither of 
 them, but he heard with extreme distinctness the elder 
 of the two calling out to the younger: "I really can't 
 allow you to go a single step farther. Dr. Thistlewood's 
 orders were that I was to bring you back by nine. And 
 you've been and put on those things which I told you 
 not to wear. You know that they're not yours. They 
 were left in the wardrobe by mistake." 
 
 At the mention of Dr. Thistlewood's name Mr. Barton 
 started violently, and shifted his position so as to see 
 who the speaker and her companion were. The speaker 
 was evidently an attendant who had some kind of au- 
 thority, and the person addressed Mr. Barton could 
 hardly believe his eyes. It actually seemed to him that 
 his wild idea was true; for the person addressed, unless 
 his senses were playing him false, was the living image 
 of Miss Vivian. 
 
 Surprise paralyzed him. He stared again to see if he 
 was not deceiving himself. Then his heart sank, and he 
 felt that he had been his own dupe. The hat and coat 
 she was wearing he knew them only too well. They 
 were those worn by Miss Wynn on her arrival in her 
 aunt's drawing-room. He had never seen such articles 
 on the person of a lady before. What madness could 
 have induced him to take this girl for her sister? He 
 looked once more, and then he understood the reason. 
 Her hair, which she was accustomed to wear so ar- 
 ranged as to suggest a boy's, had now been crimped and 
 curled in close imitation of Miss Vivian's, and had thus 
 given to her face the likeness which had deceived his 
 fancy. He also noticed that the edge of a braided skirt, 
 which appeared below her coat with its large masculine 
 buttons, closely resembled one which he remembered
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 Miss Vivian wearing. It was doubtless to this garment 
 that her companion had just alluded. So Miss Enid 
 Wynn had not yet gone, after all! But what, he began 
 to ask himself, was the meaning of these new oddities? 
 
 His mental question was interrupted by the sound of 
 the girl's voice. 
 
 " I had to come out," she said, in a tone which was not 
 distinctive. " I couldn't find some of my own things, 
 so I took what I could lay my hands upon. And look 
 here is it necessary for me to keep this on any longer ?" 
 
 "Oh," said the woman, reassuringly, "you're worry- 
 ing about that, are you? No. Dr. Thistlewood said 
 particularly that that was to come off now." 
 
 Mr. Barton moved forward for an inch or two in order 
 to see what fresh point was at issue. The girl was lean- 
 ing against the stile, and one of her hands was resting 
 on the topmost bar. From the wrist, for a distance of 
 some inches up the arm, Mr. Barton recognized the long 
 strip of black sticking-plaster like that which, as he well 
 remembered, Miss Wynn had been fixing in its place 
 when the character of the costume in which she appeared 
 before him had only astonished him less than the con- 
 versation that followed it. 
 
 In a moment an illuminating thought made him feel 
 that he had solved the riddle. This girl, Miss Wynn, 
 before finally quitting the scenes of her recent misde- 
 meanors, was preparing to cover her retreat with one 
 last reckless prank. She was going to revisit Cliff's End 
 dressed up as Miss Vivian, and convert the welcome that 
 would meet her into the comedy of a new farewell. In 
 all probability her part was being now rehearsed. Ex- 
 cept for the hat and coat, her disguise was complete 
 already. In the course of the morning these defects 
 would be doubtless remedied, and then, unless she should 
 be hindered, the play would be played out. No wonder, 
 so Mr. Barton reflected, Dr. Thistlewood was anxious 
 that these sisters should not meet, and that one of them 
 should not arrive till the other was safely gone. As to 
 
 332
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 the trick itself, Mr. Barton, though he had no humor in 
 him, could yet imagine that fools might find in it food 
 for laughter, and the idea of it having once occurred to 
 him caused him no surprise. Degrading as it was, there 
 was morally no great harm in it. It might, moreover, 
 never be carried out, and for various reasons he felt no 
 call to interfere with it. One of these reasons was a re- 
 luctance, now intensified, to come into personal contact 
 again with this girl whom his presence might exasperate 
 into fresh blasphemies; and a fear that if, as during the 
 course of the present day, he should call at Cliff's End 
 to hear when Miss Vivian was expected, Miss Wynn 
 might still be there in the act of deceiving the family, 
 made him resolve that his visit should in any case be 
 put off till to-morrow, by which time the possibility of 
 any such incidents would be over. 
 
 All at once it occurred to him for he was naturally a 
 most honorable man that, in lingering where he was, 
 he was playing the part of an eavesdropper, and that 
 nothing would justify him in remaining to hear more. 
 He accordingly managed to withdraw himself to a dis- 
 creet distance, his movement being favored by a hedge, 
 and, feeling that to look was more legitimate than to 
 listen, he presently satisfied himself that both the sub- 
 jects of his observation were taking their way back again 
 in the direction of the Turkish Castle, and that he, on 
 his homeward course, would be safe from the attention 
 of either of them. 
 
 Meanwhile, at Cliff's End preparations were in happy 
 progress for the absentee's return. Dr. Thistlewood him- 
 self made his appearance in the morning, and, closeted 
 with Lady Susannah, gave her various hints, which he 
 requested her to communicate to her family, with regard 
 to the manner in which her niece should be treated ; nor 
 was he content till he had interviewed Miss Vivian's 
 maid also, securing attention to his orders by a very 
 handsome gratuity. Of Miss Wynn he merely said: 
 
 "We couldn't get her off our hands quite as soon as 
 333
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 we had hoped to do ; but every trace of the accident has 
 by this time disappeared, and her father will assure you, 
 should you wish to make inquiries though I don't ad- 
 vise you to do so, for I think it would only trouble him 
 that for some time at least she'll get into no more mis- 
 chief. As for Miss Vivian, I shall meet her and bring 
 her, when we reach Southquay, to the Turkish Castle for 
 an hour or so a step I could not take before and then 
 drive her over, and restore her to you, late in the after- 
 noon to-morrow." 
 
 The whole of the following morning Miss Arundel 
 and the discreet maid devoted themselves to the task of 
 getting Miss Vivian's rooms in order. Her boxes were 
 unpacked; her clothes were disposed in wardrobes; her 
 books were taken from their hiding - places and ar- 
 ranged in their old stations. Even the box of incense 
 again stood on the chimney-piece, and the properties of 
 Miss Wynn, from her wading-boots, her fish-hooks, and 
 her sporting novels upward, were relegated to their old 
 receptacles, ready to be forwarded, when necessary, as 
 her parents or Dr. Thistlewood might direct. 
 
 Late that evening Mr. Barton received a letter from 
 Lady Susannah, which threw some light on the nature 
 of Dr. Thistlewood's communications with herself. She 
 wrote : 
 
 " DEAR MR. BARTON, At last I have good news for you. Dr. 
 Thistlewood called this morning and told me certain things 
 which throw some sort of light on the nature of Nest's late ill- 
 ness, and which, when we talk to her, he wishes us all to remem- 
 ber. Like most people, he says, who have suffered in the same 
 way, she has no idea of the time for which her illness has lasted. 
 It seems to her to be no more than a week. Indeed, she fancies 
 that during this supposed week, except for the last two days, 
 when she was taken away for change of air, she has been kept 
 at the Turkish Castle, where she fell asleep, as you know, di- 
 rectly after the thunder-storm. It all seems very odd and mud- 
 dled, but Dr. Thistlewood says that there's nothing in it at all 
 unusual. He says, however, that at first the right thing is to 
 humor her and accept what she appears to think, and not puz- 
 
 334
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 zle her by making a fuss about it. For this reason he has put 
 off her return till to-morrow, for he wants, before bringing her 
 here, to take her to the Turkish Castle, where some of her things 
 have been sent, so as to keep up the illusion. You will, I am 
 sure, agree that the little deception is harmless. I tell you all 
 this so that you may do what we are doing, and avoid saying 
 anything which might show how long she has been unwell really. 
 .You would probably wish that your first meeting with her 
 should be private, so I will not ask you to be here on her ar- 
 rival. I will tell her, unless I hear from you to the contrary, 
 that you will call to inquire for her the day after, at your usual 
 hour; and, of course, I shall not hint at any suspicion on my 
 part as to your intention in coming or her expectations in re- 
 ceiving you."
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 EST, my dearest Nest!" such was Lady Susan- 
 nah's exclamation when, gently pushed forward 
 by Dr. Thistlewood, Miss Vivian made once more her 
 appearance in the Cliff's End drawing-room; and Miss 
 Arundel and her brothers, together with Mr. George 
 Carlton, who, from motives of economy and affection, 
 was condescending to prolong his visit, each added a 
 contribution to the general chorus of welcome. 
 
 As Mr. Carlton afterward put it, in his own elegant 
 language, " she stood there as if she were just out of a 
 bandbox, all slimness and e"cru, with her coat caught in 
 at her waist, and her delicious little black gloves match- 
 ing her crisp black hat, whose distracting brim had a 
 curl in it like a breaking wave." For a moment she hesi- 
 tated with a laughing apology in her eyes, as though her 
 absence and illness had been due to some fault or folly 
 of her own. A moment later her aunt's arms had been 
 round her, Miss Arundel had made a maidenly peck at 
 her cheek, she was drinking a cup of tea, and was no 
 longer a stranger. 
 
 In the opinion of all her friends she had never been 
 looking better, and in honor of the occasion Dr. Thistle- 
 wood, though not dressed, was readily induced to re- 
 main at Cliff's End for dinner. Lady Susannah was not 
 slow in divining that one of his reasons for doing this 
 was a wish by his own behavior to set an example of 
 how his late patient should be treated. He did not fail 
 to say that she had made a very rapid recovery, nodding 
 to her pleasantly over a glass of champagne as he did so, 
 but his tone and manner made light of her whole malady, 
 
 336
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 and his sole further allusion to it was not expressed di- 
 rectly, but only implied in his telling, and inviting others 
 to tell her of various events which had happened while 
 she was, as he said, " laid up." Nor was she, as she sat 
 among them in her tea-gown, whose rosy silks whitened 
 round her throat and wrists in a foam of lace and chiffon, 
 a spectacle to invite condolences. One of the pieces of 
 news which gave vivacity to the occasion was that Os- 
 wald's departure for Constantinople was now definitely 
 arranged, on hearing which she forthwith discomposed 
 him by an allusion to some of his romantic Eastern 
 sketches. " You will soon yourself," she said, " be mak- 
 ing love in a turban." Oswald's blushes, however, had 
 ample time to subside while the further news was being 
 imparted to her of the Southquay election and its result. 
 Then the blush was transferred from Oswald's cheeks to 
 hers, and she showed a considerable reluctance to quit 
 this important subject until, as the meal was ending, the 
 fact was casually mentioned that Sir Rawlin had gone 
 to London to take his seat in the House, where he had 
 met with the most nattering reception. Over the bright- 
 ness of the girl's face there passed something like a faint 
 cloud-shadow. Her eyes fixed themselves on her plate, 
 and Dr. Thistlewood, whom nothing escaped, saw a 
 movement of her silks and laces which, while masking, 
 revealed a sigh. 
 
 "Of course," he hastened to add, "when this session 
 is over, as it will be in a few days, our member is coming 
 back for Easter, to thank his loyal constituents." The 
 girl threw a quick glance at him, which she no less quick- 
 ly withdrew, and a movement of her laces followed, even 
 more unmistakable than the first. " I'll tell you what," 
 he said to Lady Susannah, "you mustn't allow that 
 young person to go sitting up late this evening. Put 
 her to bed. That's my parting prescription, and let us 
 hope it will be long before she wants another. As for 
 me, I must be getting back to my host. Sleep well," 
 he said to the girl, who smiled at him with confidential 
 
 337
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 gratitude, " and pleasant dreams to you or, better still, 
 no dreams at all." 
 
 Dr. Thistle wood's parting benediction had apparently 
 the best results. Miss Vivian, next morning, somewhat 
 pensive indeed, but with a pensiveness which was highly 
 becoming to her and did nothing to dim her freshness, 
 took up the threads of her life again as though nothing 
 had broken; and Lady Susannah, on mentioning Mr. 
 Barton's name to her, and the fact that he was hop- 
 ing to come and see her that afternoon, was interested 
 to observe the pleasure with which she received the 
 news. 
 
 As for Mr. Barton himself, everything was done that 
 could be done to render his visit easy for him. Lady 
 Susannah despatched a further note to him to say that 
 her niece would expect him at half-past five, adding that 
 he need not trouble himself to inquire for anybody else, 
 but would find her, on his arrival, awaiting him in the 
 green boudoir. 
 
 As the hour drew near his agitation increased. Occu- 
 pation became impossible for him; his own rooms felt 
 like a prison, and once again he did what he had done 
 yesterday he went over the hill to the path by the 
 cliff's edge, so that even before he met her he might 
 enjoy the sense of her neighborhood and watch the tops 
 of the ilexes whose shadows again sheltered her. The 
 landscape to-day held no other human being but him- 
 self. The sinister figure of Miss Enid Wynn was absent. 
 Whatever mischief she had been planning two days ago 
 she had gone without accomplishing it; for the fact of 
 departure was now beyond a doubt, and the air seemed 
 lighter in consequence. And yet, for a moment, the 
 recurrence of her image troubled him, coming like 
 a cloud between him and his own approaching bliss. 
 Here, he reflected, were two immortal souls, committed 
 by God to bodies in many ways closely similar, and sur- 
 rounded also by closely similar conditions, yet mak- 
 ing such different returns to Him for His love and for 
 
 338
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 His gift of life. " That wretched child," he said to him- 
 self. " She received the sacrament of confirmation 
 snickering at it. What must have been her first indeed, 
 her only communion? That single act of sacrilege 
 would be enough to account for everything. A case like 
 this, at all events, teaches us one thing that no likeness 
 whatever between two physical organisms can impose 
 any common fatality on the two souls which inhabit 
 them. It's a pity that men like this wonderful Dr. 
 Thistlewood are blind to the meaning of facts which 
 are lying at their own doors." Here was a thought 
 which braced him, and under its stimulus the image 
 of Miss Wynn faded, and its place was occupied wholly 
 by one to whom spiritual aspiration was as natural 
 an act as breathing, and to think of whom was to 
 praise God. "Tantum ergo sacramentum," he mur- 
 mured, with his coming marriage in his heart. He 
 looked at his watch. The appointed hour was near; 
 and at once, with eager strides, he began to hurry 
 toward the garden gate. 
 
 In spite of the delay he had imposed on himself, he 
 was a little before his time; and when he was ushered 
 into the green boudoir he found himself alone with his 
 expectancy. The air was alive with sacred and over- 
 powering memories. There were the china cups with 
 which Miss Vivian had trifled as she stood coming to 
 terms with her own inmost thoughts, just before her 
 manner had undergone its abrupt change, and she had 
 turned round at last and begun to open her heart to 
 him. There, too, by the fire, was the chair into which, 
 like a drift of rose-petals, she had sunk when she called 
 him to her side. On one of its walnut- wood arms he 
 could still see her hand resting. He could still see the 
 mystery of the heavens in the invitation of her languid 
 eyes. There, too, was the spot where he himself had 
 knelt. For a moment he knelt again, and kissed the 
 piece of walnut carving on which her hand had rested. 
 He had just risen when a shadow crossed the window, 
 
 339
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 and he caught sight of a flicker which he knew to be 
 Miss Vivian's dress. 
 
 A few seconds later the door had opened, and she was 
 before him. 
 
 "Mr. Barton! " she exclaimed. "How glad I am to 
 see you again !" In her manner there was a slight melan- 
 choly, but her eyes sparkled with welcome, and her hand 
 in its white glove held his with a firm pressure, unlike 
 the brusque withdrawal familiar to him in former days. 
 Still he experienced a certain perplexed disappointment. 
 This was not quite the greeting he had counted on, when 
 he rehearsed the scene in expectation. She was not re- 
 suming their intercourse where it had left off. He was 
 able, however, to make infinite allowances. A young 
 girl, whose feelings were naturally of an exquisite deli- 
 cacy, might not find it easy, he reflected, to bring her- 
 self, after a long separation, into the mood which ha,d 
 accompanied an unconventional expression of her love; 
 and his chivalry was already forbidding him to take any 
 premature advantage of it. He was, indeed, beginning 
 to feel embarrassed himself, though his own love, under 
 the surface, was more wildly alive than ever. He would 
 take his time. Their complete reunion should be grad- 
 ual, and, meanwhile, he withdrew his eyes from their 
 reverent contemplation of her lips. 
 
 "They say," she continued, "that I've been ill for I 
 don't know how many days. Well, I suppose it's true. 
 Something like this has happened to me once or twice 
 before. Do you know, it seems to me, if I went by my 
 own impressions, that I saw you only yesterday." 
 
 "Does it!" exclaimed Mr. Barton, his voice at once 
 growing eager. " It seems to me not only that I saw 
 you yesterday, but that I have seen you always every 
 moment since your illness kept you from us. It seems 
 to me that I have never seen anything else." 
 
 " You," she said, gently, " have always been very good 
 to me. If things were ever to go wrong with me, I feel 
 that I should turn to you and you would show me the 
 
 340
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 way out. But I can't quite tell yet. Last night, Mr. 
 Barton, I was reading your own book again." 
 
 "Were you?" said Mr. Barton. "Were you? I gave 
 my soul to that book. May I think that my poor little 
 book is giving my soul to yours? Look at me. Look 
 at me. I was beginning do you know what I was be- 
 ginning to do ? I was beginning to wonder, for a mo- 
 ment, whether you had forgotten our last meeting. Tell 
 me tell me truly do you still remember what we said 
 at it?" 
 
 Miss Vivian sank into the chair which she had occu- 
 pied on the former occasion. 
 
 "Do you think," she said, with a glance of friendly 
 reproach at him, " that I am at all likely to forget ? You 
 must think me very superficial if you do." 
 
 Mr. Barton took a chair near hers, murmuring as he 
 did so: " Yes, sit there sit there. You were sitting 
 there when I left you." 
 
 "Dear Mr. Barton," she continued, "I remember all 
 our meetings. This wretched little illness of mine has 
 not made me a fool. I remember what you said at each 
 of them. The last one yes, I remember that best of 
 all." 
 
 Mr. Barton leaned quickly forward, and laid his hand 
 on hers. Her own was at once withdrawn; but, as 
 though to atone for this proceeding, she leaned in turn 
 toward him, and fixed on him eyes full of that inward 
 sadness which requires so little to turn it into the long- 
 ings and the dreams of a devotee. 
 
 " Yes," she continued, " at our last meeting you spoke 
 about the soul which cannot die, which can be injured 
 by itself only, and which will be our living fate forever. 
 You spoke, too, about the blessed sacrament, and about 
 the uplifting of our whole natures; and you said that 
 God demanded these of us, and would satisfy all their 
 longings for what is high and beautiful, giving us even 
 more than we can imagine. You are the only person 
 who has ever really shown me how religion means the
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 satisfaction of our natures taken as a whole, and is not 
 merely something that we have to do with in church- 
 time or during our private prayers. And you asked me 
 to think of you this touched me very much as being 
 yourself my companion and helper in efforts which must 
 be made by both of us. No, you see I have not for- 
 gotten what you said at our last meeting." 
 
 Mr. Barton, as he listened to these words, had grown 
 gradually paler, and his head had begun to swim. 
 
 "I think," he answered, faintly, "that the meeting 
 when I said all or any of these things to you was not 
 our last." 
 
 "I'm sure it was," she said, with a semi-playful in- 
 sistence. "Not that it makes much matter whether it 
 was the last or first, for, whichever it was, I should re- 
 member the impression you made upon me. But still, 
 if you insist, I'll prove that I'm right in a minute or 
 two. There's a pin or something which is pricking me. 
 Just let me put that right first." 
 
 As she spoke she rose and, unbuttoning one of her 
 gloves, went to the window, whose shutters were pan- 
 elled with strips of looking-glass. In a state bordering 
 on stupefaction, Mr. Barton rose and followed her. The 
 idea had occurred to him of helping her in the impend- 
 ing rearrangement of her toilet, of thus getting posses- 
 sion he hardly knew how of her person, and forcing 
 her to acknowledge that interview which she could not 
 mean to repudiate. By the time he reached it she was 
 busy with a small brooch. The glove which she had be- 
 gun to unbutton had now been at length drawn off. 
 The evening light shone full on her delicate hand and 
 wrist, and there, from the wrist upward, disappearing 
 into the shadow of the sleeve, Mr. Barton saw a scar pre- 
 cisely corresponding in its course to a strip of black 
 plaster which, on another occasion, had been pressed to 
 the arm of a girl habited as an Albanian boy. 
 
 "Now I'm all right," said Miss Vivian, with a slight 
 laugh, the brooch having been rearranged and the of- 
 
 342
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 fending pin refastened. "And now, Mr. Barton, I'll 
 prove to you, by a few dates, that the last time we met 
 here was But what in the world is the matter with 
 you ? Why do you look like that at me ? Are you ill ? 
 I'm afraid you must be." 
 
 Mr. Barton's face was by this time colorless. "A 
 little." he faltered " a little, perhaps. But it's nothing. 
 It will pass." His voice ceased, and she stared at him. 
 " I am feeling," he said, " slightly dizzy. May I, for just 
 one moment, ask you for the support of your hand?" 
 
 She did as he asked, and, aided by her, he managed to 
 reach the chimney-piece. He leaned against this for 
 a minute or so, while the girl watched him anxiously. 
 Then, unable apparently to bear the heat of the fire, he 
 jerked his body forward, gained a neighboring chair, 
 and, extracting his pocket-handkerchief, began absently 
 to mop his forehead. 
 
 "Tell me," he said, gasping, "how did you hurt your 
 wrist? I hardly know whom I'm talking to." 
 
 "My wrist!" exclaimed Miss Vivian, with surprise. 
 " I can't tell how I hurt it. Dr. Thistlewood knows. I 
 must somehow have got it scratched when I was ill 
 by a nail in the bedpost he told me I forget. It was 
 something like that, I think. But my scratch is nothing. 
 The mark will soon be gone. Don't let us talk of my 
 wrist. Mr. Barton, what is it ? Let me ring the bell for 
 some one. Shall we send for a doctor? Shall we send 
 for Dr. Thistlewood?" 
 
 Mr. Barton's arms were by this time crossed on a 
 table, his body was bent forward, and his face was help- 
 lessly buried in them. 
 
 "Not for the world," he exclaimed, raising himself 
 with a spasmodic effort, " though I believe I shall have 
 to go to him! It was only a little giddiness. It's pass- 
 ing away already. But I won't stop longer this after- 
 noon. A walk in the open air that will make me all 
 right again. Good-bye. Don't ring, I beg of you. I 
 can find my own way out." 
 
 343
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 He had opened the door and was disappearing, when 
 Miss Vivian called out after him: 
 
 "Mr. Barton! Mr. Barton! aren't you going to take 
 your hat? Look, you were going away with my aunt's 
 knitting instead!" 
 
 That evening Dr. Thistlewood received the following 
 letter : 
 
 " Doctors, like priests, are men accustomed to confidences, so 
 this probably will not surprise you; but seeing that our views of 
 life are as the poles asunder, you may, perhaps, be surprised at 
 my bringing any secrets of my own to yourself. I have told you, 
 however, one secret of mine already. When I asked you in vain 
 for certain news of Miss Vivian I explained to you the nature 
 of my interest in her. I may add in passing that I have now 
 explained myself to her father, and my wishes have his full sanc- 
 tion. I must ask you to be patient while I put the matter more 
 minutely. Miss Vivian, just after her recovery from the first 
 effects of the thunder-storm on a day when you yourself pro- 
 nounced that she was fit to receive a visitor told me, with the 
 utmost deliberation and with an emphasis the sincerity of which 
 it was quite impossible to doubt, that she entertained a sentiment 
 for myself similar to mine for her. 
 
 " I have seen her to-day. Your treatment of her has been so 
 far justified that she has come back in the enjoyment of complete 
 health, but, to my astonishment indeed, it seems hardly credi- 
 ble she denies all recollection of everything said or done by 
 her at the inter Mew to which I have made allusion. What is 
 the meaning of this? I would stake my life on her integrity. 
 Can it be that her intellect is still, to some extent, clouded over 
 by her late illness ? In the name of common humanity, tell me 
 the naked truth! Yes and tell me this, too. The half-sister, 
 Miss Wynn, while she was here, managed to wound her arm. 
 Miss Vivian's arm, as though by a kind of witchcraft, bears the 
 scar of a wound which closely one may fancy absolutely 
 corresponds to it. What have you been doing to her? What 
 have you been allowing her to do? I hardly know what to 
 think or what to ask; but you will recognize, as a man of the 
 world, that I have a right to demand the truth, and I positively 
 will have it. When can I see you? We must have it out to- 
 gether, face to face. Yours, THEOPHILUS BARTON." 
 
 The following reply from Dr. Thistlewood was brought 
 back by Mr. Barton's messenger: 
 
 344
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 " DEAR MR. BARTON, You are right at least as to two things. 
 Like a priest, I am surprised at nothing. I am certainly not sur- 
 prised at the contents of your own letter. I agree with you 
 that, since things have happened as they have happened, a re- 
 sponse to your questions is no more than your due. To-morrow 
 morning, if this suits your convenience, I will do myself the honor 
 of calling on you, and will then tell you what I can. But I fore- 
 see two difficulties; the one is that you will be reluctant to 
 believe the facts: the other is that you will be slow to understand 
 them. Yours, with sincere respect, 
 
 "GUSTAV THISTLEWOOD."
 
 BOOK IV
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 MR.. BARTON was like a man who, unkilled, has 
 fallen from some Alpine height, and hardly dares 
 to conjecture the extent of his own injuries. His hopes 
 lay in ruins round him; his late exaltations mocked at 
 him; and from time to time he would shiver with a 
 vague fear of a something behind his sorrows more ter- 
 rible than these sorrows themselves. Weariness at last 
 brought him its brute relief. He lay down, dressed, on 
 his bed, and slept like a log till morning. 
 
 "Can I, in common humanity, tell him all the truth at 
 once ? He would hardly understand it if I did tell him. 
 No; poor creature, he must have it in small doses. If 
 he will only be wise, I need never tell him more than 
 half." 
 
 Such was the tenor of Dr. Thistlewood's reflections as 
 he walked to Mr. Barton's house. Mr. Barton greeted 
 him with a brave effort at self-possession, but his face 
 was haggard, the rims of his eyes were red, and when, 
 having seated himself, he leaned his head on his hand, 
 his gaze was the gaze of one who sees everything round 
 him waver. 
 
 Dr. Thistlewood's first impulse was to ply him with 
 some moral restorative. 
 
 "Well," he began, in a voice which was grave but not 
 too solemn, "as you've made me your confidant before, 
 I quite understand your position or I think I do. If 
 I'm not right, tell me. Let me do the talking first. That 
 will make things much easier. Miss Vivian, before her 
 illness, made you some avowal or other which distinctly 
 implied that she was willing to become your wife. The 
 
 349
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 moment she gets her health back you see her, you 
 remind her of the incident, and this curious young lady 
 disclaims all knowledge of what you are talking about. 
 You are also startled by observing a certain scar on her 
 arm. You think, perhaps, that during her illness she 
 has been the victim of some dark experiments. Any- 
 how, here are your mysteries, and you want me to clear 
 up these." 
 
 Mr. Barton nodded, adding faintly the words: "I do." 
 
 "I'm afraid," said Dr. Thistlewood, "that to clear 
 them up entirely would be rather a long business. We 
 couldn't manage that this morning. But Miss Vivian's 
 behavior to yourself that, unusual as it is, is a com- 
 paratively simple matter; and though, when I explain 
 it, I can't promise not to pain you, you will, on the 
 whole so I think find yourself much relieved. Now, 
 my good friend, listen. You as a priest have seen many 
 cases of fever. People in fever exhibit many freaks of 
 forgetfulness." 
 
 "Yes," said Mr. Barton, wearily, "that's common 
 enough. Once, when skating, I fell and knocked the 
 back of my head. When I'd picked myself up I'd for- 
 gotten my way home. But don't try to gull me with 
 this kind of false analogy. To forget a detail is one 
 thing. To have lost, apparently, an inmost disposition 
 of the heart to have had it wiped out in a week or 
 two this is quite another." 
 
 "Wait a bit," said Dr. Thistlewood. "We as yet have 
 but half the story. I began with the phenomenon of 
 mere forgetfulness, so as to put you on the right track. 
 Let us now go back from the forgetfulness to the details 
 of the thing forgotten. The meeting at which Miss 
 Vivian gave you reason to believe in her affection for 
 you do you remember that I called on you the morn- 
 ing after it occurred ? I had no suspicion, at the time, of 
 the subjects that were discussed between you. I had 
 no desire to find out. The questions I asked you were 
 of a purely medical kind. Did you notice in Miss Viv- 
 
 35
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 ian's demeanor any unusual symptoms ? You did, and 
 you told me what they were. I may tell you now, 
 though I don't think I said so then and there, that they 
 were just what I had foreseen they would be from my 
 knowledge of kindred cases. In the course of the inter- 
 view Miss Vivian's manner changed. It had been dull 
 and apathetic at first. Then, with a marked abruptness, 
 it became just the reverse. Then, you remember, she 
 asked you one or two questions which you yourself at 
 the time noticed as being rather odd. She spoke of your 
 having come back, as though you'd only just left the 
 house; and she asked you if you'd entered through the 
 conservatory, when no such mode of entrance at Cliff's 
 End was possible. She also made use of a rather curious 
 locution. 'So and so,' she said to you, 'is what Mr. 
 Barton tells us.' ' 
 
 "Your own memory," said Mr. Barton, with a sort of 
 aimless sarcasm, "shows no signs of failing you. To 
 me these little peculiarities all seemed very natural." 
 
 "You admit," Dr. Thistlewood continued, "that fever 
 may cause forgetfulness. You cannot be less familiar 
 with the fact that it may produce delusions. You have 
 doubtless seen patients tossing about in their beds who 
 fancy that a bedroom in London is a veranda in Hong- 
 Kong. They constantly make mistakes as to the identity 
 of the people round them a nurse is taken for a mother, 
 a doctor for a son or husband. Also, hallucinations of 
 this kind here you have another familiar fact will 
 develop themselves quite suddenly and will cease as 
 suddenly as they developed themselves." 
 
 "Well," said Mr. Barton, with an air of quickened at- 
 tention, "I am listening. Pray go on." 
 
 "I should like," said Dr. Thistlewood, "to give you 
 an interesting example of this, supplied by the case of 
 a young woman in America, of which some day I may 
 tell you more. A whole book has been written about 
 her by a well-known Boston doctor. The young woman, 
 who had been disordered by a severe nervous shock,
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 exhibited symptoms like those we have just been talk- 
 ing of, and she would sometimes do so with a sudden- 
 ness by which her doctor himself was bewildered. One 
 day, when her health was seemingly quite restored to 
 her, she called at the hospital of which he was the dis- 
 tinguished head to consult him in his own room. When 
 she entered she struck him as being so listless that she 
 had hardly go enough to tell him what was the matter 
 with her. But presently, without any warning, she gave 
 a start as if she saw him there for the first time, and 
 began to talk to him about matters of which he un- 
 derstood nothing. In a minute or two he realized that 
 she was calling him by a name other than his own. When 
 he told her what his own was she insisted that he was 
 talking nonsense. Not till long afterward did he dis- 
 cover that, there before his very eyes, her mind let us 
 put it this way through some infirmity of the body, 
 had been playing her one of those curious tricks we 
 spoke about. Several years of life had disappeared 
 from her memory. To her the physician now appeared 
 to be a former lover, and she imagined herself to be 
 completing a scene with him which had been interrupted 
 several years ago. I tell you this anecdote, Mr. Barton 
 have you any idea why ? I tell it you because the in- 
 cident I have just described is undoubtedly parallel to 
 that which took place between Miss Vivian and your- 
 self. At a given moment, as you noticed, there was an 
 alteration in her voice and manner. Up to that mo- 
 ment she knew you for what you are. From that 
 moment onward she took you for some one else. She 
 believed herself to be in some different place, and to 
 be continuing with that other person an incident, or a 
 series of incidents, belonging to a different time." 
 
 Mr. Barton's face was pale. At last he managed to 
 stammer: "Impossible! What incidents? And with 
 whom?" 
 
 "How can I tell?" said Dr. Thistlewood, avoiding Mr. 
 Barton's eye. "The incidents and the other person 
 
 352
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 were most likely imaginary. For Miss Vivian the scene, 
 at all events, had no association with yourself. Well, 
 Mr. Barton, this fact, though it very naturally disap- 
 points you, has yet a consolatory side to it. It entirely 
 does away with any possible supposition on your part 
 that Miss Vivian has been guilty of intentional lev- 
 ity toward yourself. Further, on your own showing, 
 though she took you for somebody else, and could in 
 consequence have had no intention of flattering you, 
 she spoke of you with very deep regard, and quoted 
 with deep feeling your own words to her imaginary 
 hearer." 
 
 Mr. Barton's pallor was at last tempered by a blush. 
 "I am conscious," he said, "of the delicacy with which 
 you touch on these private matters. If facts are as 
 you say they are, I may perhaps find some consolation 
 in them. But, God help me, Dr. Thistlewood, I feel that 
 you are only playing with me. I feel that there is some- 
 thing in the background to which as yet you have not 
 even alluded. How did she get that scar? Yes, Dr. 
 Thistlewood, how did Miss Vivian, at the time in a state 
 of torpor, and under your own care, or the care of one 
 of your subordinates, come to have her arm mutilated 
 in a manner so closely imitative of the wound received 
 by Miss Wynn it doesn't matter how at Southquay? 
 Don't try to put me off by referring to your story of the 
 twins who both, on the same day, were scratched on the 
 right cheek. But I don't want general analogies. I want 
 specific facts. Miss Vivian must have been wounded 
 by something which lacerated her own skin, even if 
 a hundred others had been lacerated in the same way. 
 Have you been hacking her and cutting her about, and 
 unhinging her mind, so as to see if she bears pain in the 
 same way as her sister?" 
 
 "Come, come," said Dr. Thistlewood. "I could see 
 by the way in which you looked at me that your mind 
 was haunted by some wild idea of that kind. If to 
 watch a patient is to experiment with her, it is perfectly 
 
 353
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 true that I have used Miss Vivian as a subject; but the 
 experiments have been proposed by the young lady on 
 herself. You may possibly compel me, if you are ob- 
 stinate, to tell you everything some day; but for your 
 sake and for hers I would much rather refrain, and in 
 no case could I tell you now. The matter is much too 
 complicated. Look here, Mr. Barton, your feelings are 
 still unsettled. You left Miss Vivian abruptly, and took 
 away distorted impressions of her. Before you decide on 
 acquainting yourself with things that would only trouble 
 you, see her again; see her in the company of others. 
 Lord Cotswold has asked Sir Rawlin and the Cliff End 
 party to dinner to-night. Lord Cotswold has commis- 
 sioned me to say that he hopes you will come, too. 
 Yes, my dear fellow, come. It will do you all the good 
 in the world." 
 
 Pleased with this unexpected suggestion, Mr. Barton 
 assented. His mind was still haunted by some jealous 
 and inexplicable fear, but in part of what Dr. Thistle- 
 wood had told him there was some ground for hope. 
 It might, after all, be possible for him to rebuild his tem- 
 ple, though the original fabric, which he had reared so 
 high, was in ruins. 
 
 Meanwhile, breathing the sunlit air without, Miss 
 Vivian herself, accompanying Miss Nina Arundel, had 
 gone for a walk along the heights of the New Drive. 
 The turquoise-colored sea below, breaking among the 
 hidden bowlders with its drowsy, eternal murmur, the 
 blossoming tops of the laurels thrusting themselves from 
 the subjacent gardens, the horse-chestnuts, whose green 
 cressets were alight among the gloom of the macrocar- 
 pas, filled the girl's nerves and veins with that buoyant 
 trouble of expectation which is the soul alike of youth, 
 religion, and poetry. 
 
 The two ladies were proceeding at a pleasingly slow 
 pace when a carriage, just a little less slow, overtook and 
 pulled up beside them. The occupant was old Mrs. 
 Summerfield, whose voice, issuing from the shades of 
 
 354
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 her poke - bonnet, was saying: " I can't distinguish your 
 face, but surely this is Nina." 
 
 Miss Arundel admitted her identity. "And here," 
 she said, "is my cousin Nest." 
 
 "Oh!" said Mrs. Summerfield, "that's pretty Miss 
 Nest Vivian, is it? She's a very nice young lady. How 
 are you, my dear? Nina, my good soul. I want your 
 help about something." 
 
 Hereupon there ensued a long conversation with re- 
 gard to stockings for some old women in almshouses, 
 which was, however, at last interrupted by an exclama- 
 tion from Miss Vivian. "Look!" she said. "Nina, look! 
 Here comes Sir Rawlin Stantor!" 
 
 Sir Rawlin's thoughts of Miss Vivian had, during her 
 prolonged absence, grown, for several reasons, insensibly 
 less frequent. One of these reasons was the awakening 
 of prudence and principle caused by his accidental es- 
 cape from the natural consequences of his folly. An- 
 other was his work at South quay, which had grown more 
 and more engrossing as the day of the poll approached. 
 Another was the welcome he had met with from his 
 party chiefs at Westminster, and the transforming stimu- 
 lus received by him from a renewed contact with affairs. 
 
 Now, however, when victory had brought its hush 
 with it, and he returned, as he had done last night, to 
 the scenes of his late folly, old interests showed signs 
 of reviving, and his thoughts began to flutter, although 
 at a cautious distance, round the heroine of the hockey- 
 field, the shepherdess with the poppy-colored cap. He 
 had not come out either hoping or expecting to see her. 
 But the moment he did so he was reconciled to the 
 morning's accident. 
 
 "Sir Rawlin," said Mrs. Summerfield, "I'm not able 
 to distinguish you; but give me your hand, and allow me 
 to congratulate you on your victory. Come, if you can, 
 and see me one night at dinner. I can offer you some 
 very old port, and I'll ask that young lady to meet you 
 who, they tell me, is a great favorite of yours. And now 
 
 355
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 I'm going to take this dear Nina Arundel with me to 
 choose some stockings for me in the town. Get in Nina; 
 and you, Miss Nest are you there still? I've no doubt 
 our new member will be gallant enough to take care of 
 you." 
 
 The eyes of the young shepherdess, her smile, and the 
 clear freshness of her complexion relieved him of his last 
 uneasiness. There was no reproachful hint in them of 
 any unpaid debt. 
 
 " I can't tell you," he said, with a sense that he might 
 be safely cordial, "how glad I am to see you again, and 
 to find that you're no worse indeed, I think you're 
 all the better for your illness. Let me examine the 
 invalid. We'd all of us have a rest-cure could we hope 
 for the same results. And there are her violets, and 
 she's got on the same red cap that was tilted over her 
 left eyebrow when I saw her first in the mist." 
 
 "I'll tell you what," said the girl, "if you look at me 
 with such a critical eye these people who are coming 
 along will think my clothes don't fit. Come down into 
 the gardens. We'll find a bench with a view. I'm quite 
 well again, but I haven't quite got my strength back." 
 
 A seat was found, and Sir Rawlin, with a renewed in- 
 terest in her, and also with a renewed caution, took his 
 place at her side. Thoughts, as he did so, came back to 
 him of the one woman who had many years ago fused, 
 despite all obstacles, his spirit and his flesh together, 
 and associated all his aspirations with his longing for 
 her lips and eyes. No such self-surrender he knew it 
 was now possible for him. Between himself and his 
 present companion, however close he might be to her, 
 he mentally placed this fact as though it were a drawn 
 sword. 
 
 They looked at the sea. They spoke in appropriate 
 terms of its beauty. The subject was a safe one, but it 
 could not last forever. Sir Rawlin felt himself wonder- 
 ing what was to take its place. When the time came 
 instinct guided him. 
 
 356
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 "I shall never forget," he said, pitching his tone care- 
 fully, "how frightened I was on your account when the 
 lightning struck the balcony. I was quite prepared to 
 catch you up like a child, and carry you away from it 
 to the other end of the world." 
 
 Here was a speech which met all the demands of the 
 situation. It did not repudiate any fragments of the 
 past that might be remembered by her, but it subtly 
 withdrew from them all inconvenient meaning. 
 
 " Dr. Thistlewood told me," she said, "about the light- 
 ning, and how close we were to it. To me it is all a 
 blank. Anyhow, it's a comfort to know that I made no 
 foolish scene." 
 
 "You weren't nearly so pale," he said, "as you were 
 that day on the hill, when the thunder did nothing but 
 give the ghost of a rumble, and Miss Hazel and Miss 
 Elvira O' Brian were afraid you were going to tumble 
 down." 
 
 "I should have," replied the girl, looking up at him 
 through her long eyelashes, "if you hadn't let me catch 
 hold of you. You must have thought I was very for- 
 ward, but everything seemed convenable in such a mist. 
 Whatever else I've forgotten, I haven't forgotten about 
 that." 
 
 "And have you forgotten," said Sir Rawlin, "my first 
 introduction to Mr. Hugo and to James and to Peter's 
 altar and to Mrs. Morriston Campbell?" 
 
 "Poor Peter," said Miss Vivian. "Mr. Hugo, when I 
 was ill, gave him an electric shock, and he's never been 
 the same since. Mr. Hugo says that if he'd only the 
 right sort of battery he could, by giving shocks to peo- 
 ple, change their entire characters. It's a pity he doesn't 
 change his own. He still thinks a man or a beetle is 
 going to appear in his glue-pot." 
 
 The conversation, from this point onward, found a 
 course along which it could flow and sparkle, neither 
 stagnating in pools too deep and too full of reflections, 
 nor losing its intimate character in the shallows of the 
 
 357
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 merely commonplace, and at last, when Miss Vivian de- 
 clared that it was time to go and that the shortest way 
 to Cliff's End would be down through the gardens into 
 the valley, their exchange of trivialities had brought 
 them so close together that the presence or absence of 
 any closer bond was indistinguishable. But when they 
 had reached the lodge at the entrance of the Cliff's End 
 drive she turned and confronted him with a smile in 
 which lurked a half-possessive seriousness. 
 
 "Well," she said, "are you going to come in and lunch 
 with us?" 
 
 Sir Rawlin's prudence was instantly up in arms. " I 
 can't," he said, "much as I should like to. But, my 
 dear, I was forgetting. I am going to meet you to- 
 night at the dinner which Lord Cotswold is giving in 
 special honor of your convalescence. Good-bye till then 
 good-bye. I'm delighted to see you so well again. 
 What are you going to wear to-night? No, don't tell 
 me. You shall surprise me at eight o'clock." 
 
 As Miss Vivian ascended the drive her thoughts of 
 the late conversation were busy with what she had failed 
 to find in it rather than what she had found. Those 
 gray eyes of her friend, however they might seek her 
 own eyes, were grave with an inward vision of which she 
 formed no part.
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 BY the time it was necessary for him to start for 
 the Turkish Castle, Mr. Barton had pulled himself 
 together, and when he entered Lord Cotswold's drawing- 
 room he was rigid with self-possession. A new anxiety, 
 of a comparatively trivial kind, had indeed helped 
 to sober him, as such anxieties often do. What, he 
 had begun to ask himself, would Miss Vivian think 
 of him in view of his own behavior on the occasion of 
 their last meeting ? Would it, in vulgar language, have 
 struck her that he had made a fool of himself? She 
 should, at all events, have no reason for forming such an 
 opinion now. 
 
 So far as this matter went he was presently set at 
 ease. As soon as he had been welcomed by his host, 
 Miss Vivian and Lady Susannah both came up to him 
 with smiles of such cheerful frankness as to show him 
 that in their eyes he had done nothing unusual. How 
 was he ? they asked, in tones that all the room might hear. 
 Much better, they hoped ; and, full of elegant sympathy, 
 Mr. Carlton approached and added his hopes to theirs. 
 Mr. Barton heard himself declaring that his malady had 
 been a passing trifle; and Miss Vivian confided to him, 
 by a private little glance of her own, her pleasure in 
 finding that a pain, which she knew to have been acute, 
 was over. 
 
 The irony of the girl's unconsciousness of her own 
 share in his trouble was inflicting on him a new pang, 
 when, before he had time to dwell on it, the accents of 
 his host distracted him. 
 
 "I haven't seen you, Mr. Barton," Lord Cotswold was 
 359
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 saying, "since the night of my evening party, though 
 I've heard of you from Dr. Gustav; and I have always 
 been wanting to express to you the interest I felt in 
 your very remarkable sermon and in the hymn which 
 followed it I presume by the same author. It seemed 
 to me that you gave us the whole Christian philosophy." 
 And, drawing Mr. Barton aside, he repeated, in a low, 
 rich tone: 
 
 " ' Lord, when place and space 
 Are not, and the skies 
 Hold no worlds, and eyes 
 Cease to obscure Thy face ' 
 
 I remember it all," he went on; but the butler's voice 
 announcing dinner interrupted him. 
 
 At dinner the conversation was of an ordinary and 
 cheerful kind. Lord Cotswold and Lady Susannah de- 
 veloped an unexpected friendliness by getting on the 
 topic of some mutual though not very near relatives, 
 and Mr. Carlton annotated this pleasant discourse by 
 sundry anecdotes illustrative of the private absurdities 
 of the great. Mr. Barton, his silence observed by Dr. 
 Thistlewood only, sat in a kind of dream; but his eyes, 
 within certain limits, were closely though cautiously 
 vigilant. Their scrutiny was confined to Miss Vivian 
 and those to whom she spoke or who spoke to her. 
 The girl, though not noticeably wanting in any of her 
 accustomed vivacity, had, so it seemed to him, developed 
 some new composure, as though all the world were fa- 
 miliar to her and she were meeting it on equal terms. 
 He was specially struck by the aplomb with which she 
 suppressed a sally of Mr. Hugo's. Mr. Hugo, who, feel- 
 ing himself under Dr. Thistlewood's scientific protec- 
 tion, judged that the occasion was favorable to some 
 oblique annoyance of Mr. Barton, contrived to publish 
 the intelligence, in a voice sufficiently audible, that he 
 had just finished making a kaleidoscope designed to 
 show by analogy how the brain could be shaken up into 
 
 360
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 different patterns of character. To Mr. Barton, in his 
 present mood, such nonsense was itself indifferent; but 
 he felt to the bottom of his heart the implication of 
 the girl's tone when he realized that she was appealing 
 to himself, and saying: "You must shut this boy, with 
 his horrid, dirty hands, up. But no I won't trouble 
 you. I can see you have your headache still." 
 
 The unconscious irony of her friendliness wounded 
 him once again. The lips which had just smiled at him 
 had once pressed themselves to his own. He made no 
 answer. He could hardly smile in return. He could not 
 even continue to observe her until she had turned away. 
 
 When he looked again she was in communication with 
 Sir Rawlin Stantor. They were leaning a little toward 
 each other, across the segment of the round table that 
 divided them. Sir Rawlin's face and manner were in- 
 stinct with a deferent friendliness, but he seemed to be 
 sending his words to her from the other side of some 
 stream which he would not or could not cross. Mr. 
 Barton watched the incident. It was over in half a 
 minute. Others of a similar kind occurred from time 
 to time, and after each the girl was subdued and silent. 
 At length a change came over her. The glances cast by 
 her in Sir Rawlin's direction ceased. She talked with 
 a feverish eagerness to Mr. Carlton, who sat beside her, 
 and presently began to exhibit to him the beauties of 
 her painted fan. Then came the voice of Sir Rawlin, 
 still remote though friendly, begging that he, too, might 
 be allowed the privilege of inspecting it. Miss Vivian, 
 hardly looking at him, passed it over with an extended 
 hand and arm. The arm was gloved to the elbow. The 
 white gleam of the kid arrested Mr. Barton's eye. The 
 glove on that arm, it occurred to him, had not been 
 taken off at all. He thought of the scar hidden by it, 
 and he pushed his plate away from him. Miss Vivian, 
 meanwhile, had resumed her conversation with Mr. 
 Carlton, and was drawing the other glove on with un- 
 necessary and ostentatious care.
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 "By-the-way, my young friend," said Lord Cotswold 
 to Mr. Hugo, when the ladies had left the room, a prom- 
 ise having been given to them that they would not be 
 long left alone, "what was that I heard you saying about 
 a kaleidoscope? Mr. Barton, come here and sit by me. 
 These sprigs of the rising generation are determined to 
 go beyond both of us." 
 
 "I should rather," said Mr. Barton, with an acerbity 
 which he could not control, "say that the thought of 
 to-day was going back to the earliest beginnings of 
 thought, and that persons like our young friend there 
 were its very appropriate mouth-pieces. I dare say our 
 young friend has never read Lucretius, or even heard 
 what Lucretius said about the human mind 
 
 " ' Principio esse aio persubtilem atque minutis 
 Corporibus factum constate.' 
 
 That means, Mr. Hugo Arundel, that, according to the 
 modern science of ancient Rome, the soul is a heap of 
 independent little bits of dust, some of them shaped like 
 hooks, some of them shaped like eyes, which collide by 
 accident and form into a kind of cluster, and that, as 
 soon as this dust-heap is formed, it begins to talk and 
 think, just as if the dust in a dust-cart were to begin to 
 drive the horse. That's what Lucretius said two thou- 
 sand years before modern science was thought of, and 
 modern science is saying no more than he did." 
 
 Mr. Hugo's youth, thus attacked by mature scholar- 
 ship, enlisted general sympathy in his favor, and Lord 
 Cotswold was considering how best to come to his rescue, 
 when Mr. Hugo, recovering from a moment's bashful- 
 ness, fought his own battle with a weapon for which Mr. 
 Barton was not prepared. 
 
 "If Lucretius," he replied, with a smile of elaborate 
 calmness, "really said all that in seven or eight words, 
 he certainly did what nobody could do to-day." 
 
 Not all the consideration and courtesy due to Mr. Bar- 
 ton and his position could prevent the explosion of a 
 
 362
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 certain amount of laughter, Oswald's eyes being filled 
 with generous tears of appreciation. 
 
 "Come," said Lord Cotswold, his own eyes still smil- 
 ing, as he laid a confidential hand on Mr. Barton's ad- 
 jacent shoulder, "you won't be in a hurry to leave us. 
 We'll have our talk by-and-by, when our ladies and these 
 young men have gone. And now I suggest that we have 
 our coffee in the drawing-room. Mr. Barton, we smoke 
 everywhere." 
 
 Mr. Barton was no sooner in the drawing-room than 
 he found himself being asked to play. The request was 
 twice repeated before he seemed to take in its nature. 
 
 " I beg your pardon," he said. " I would have played 
 with the greatest pleasure. I'm afraid, however, I must 
 confess to a slight nervous headache." 
 
 "Then don't try," said Lord Cotswold. "The young 
 people shall amuse themselves. Let them play some 
 game. Can you think of a game, any of you?" 
 
 Mr. Carlton, who, when youth was present, always 
 felt himself younger than anybody, immediately began 
 to propose one well-known game after another, and, as 
 though to avenge Mr. Barton for the affront that had 
 lately been put upon him, proceeded to make a butt of 
 the unfortunate Mr. Hugo. "Let Hugo," he said, "go 
 out of the room, and then come back and impersonate 
 some celebrated woman of history Semiramis, or any- 
 body he likes and we, from his acting, have to find out 
 who she is." 
 
 "Yes," exclaimed Miss Vivian, who appeared to have 
 recovered her spirits, "let Mr. Hugo act Semiramis. If 
 we can't recognize her, you, Mr. Hugo, win. At this 
 game you'll win to a certainty, so you needn't be afraid 
 to try." 
 
 Mr. Hugo remained mute, a monument of annoyed 
 obstructiveness, and Mr. Carlton, having indulged in a 
 variety of other suggestions, at last hit on bouts rimes 
 a pastime which, when he had explained its nature, was 
 received with sufficient approbation. "Somebody," he 
 
 "4 363
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 said, "gives two words or more for the likes of us, two 
 will be quite enough. Each word must be the end of a 
 line of poetry, and two other lines must be added which 
 will make sense and will rhyme to them. Shall I give 
 you an example? You must all have pieces of paper. 
 Ah, Dr. Thistlewood, how good of you! And I see 
 you've got pencils, too. Well, here are two words 
 lace and dressed. See what you can make of those. 
 Now, you've only got five minutes." 
 
 A silence followed, broken by the sound of pencils; 
 but nobody, when the time was up, had produced a pre- 
 sentable poem with the exception of Mr. Carlton him- 
 self. Mr. Carlton 's poem was this, which he recited with 
 a glance at Miss Vivian : 
 
 " Who has the best lace f 
 The best-dressed girl with the prettiest face. 
 Who is the prettiest and best dressed f 
 A young lady, in crepe de chine, called Nest." 
 
 "Capital!" said a chorus of voices. 
 
 "A poor thing, but mine own," said Mr. Carlton, 
 modestly. "Now, two more words. Who'll give the 
 words this time?" 
 
 Various words were now set in succession, but the 
 poems into which they were woven were not very re- 
 markable. 
 
 "What's Hugo about all this time?" exclaimed Miss 
 Vivian, rising. "He hasn't given us a verse. Let me 
 see, Hugo, what you've been up to." 
 
 The very mention of Mr. Hugo's name had the pleas- 
 ant effect of producing a general smile. Even Mr. Bar- 
 ton slightly curled his lips and observed: "It's a pity 
 that so much talent should be wasted." 
 
 "Look here," said Miss Vivian, "Hugo hasn't written 
 a word. Here's merely a paper scribbled over with 
 lines." 
 
 "I was merely trying," said Mr. Hugo, with noncha- 
 lance, "to work out a little problem in Euclid. Do 
 
 3 6 4
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 you want two words? I dare say I can give them to 
 you." 
 
 "Yes," said Miss Arundel, "let Hugo give the words 
 if he can't manage the verses." 
 
 "Perhaps," replied Mr. Hugo, loftily, "I might be 
 able to do both if they were about anything sensible. 
 Here's a word, then square. Oh, you want another? 
 Is that it? Well, thenangles." 
 
 "That's difficult," said Lord Cotswold. "What can 
 anybody make of that?" 
 
 "Nest," said Mr. Carlton, "I've thought of some- 
 thing. Come over and sit by me, and we'll do it to- 
 gether." 
 
 Mr. Barton watched her movements. Her demeanor, 
 inexplicably changed, had now begun to sting him. She 
 sank with her fan and laces close to Mr. Carlton's side; 
 her face, alive with smiles, seemed almost to be resting 
 on his shoulder, and bursts of laughter escaped from 
 her as the work of composition proceeded. 
 
 "Now, Cousin George, time's up," said Oswald. 
 
 "We've nearly finished," said Mr. Carlton. "You 
 read yours out first." 
 
 "Very well," replied the diplomat. "Mine has the 
 merit of brevity ' '- 
 
 " If a poet would square 
 
 His loves with his morals, 
 Let the poet beware, 
 
 Or good-bye to his laurels." 
 
 "My dear fellow," exclaimed Mr. Calton, "you've not 
 rhymed to angles at all! Now, listen," he continued, as 
 Oswald was obliged to confess his error. "Nest and I 
 can do better than that, though we're neither of us pro- 
 fessed poets: 
 
 " A young lady whose dress was cut square, 
 
 Wore a lovely assortment of bangles; 
 She'd a little aigrette in her hair, 
 
 And her bodice and sleeves were all spangles. 
 
 365
 
 But the sleeves of the gown 
 
 Got detached and fell down, 
 And showed that her elbows were angles. 
 
 Whereupon she exclaimed, 
 
 'Let the laundress be blamed, 
 All the buttons are broke by the mangles."' 
 
 A burst of applause followed. The proceedings were 
 at last growing animated. Lord Cotswold clapped his 
 hands. 
 
 "I ought to tell you," said Mr. Carlton, "that the bit 
 about the elbows was Nest's. I think that, at any rate, 
 between us we've exhausted the rhymes to angles." 
 
 " Not quite," said Mr. Hugo, solemnly looking up from 
 his paper. "My poem is this: 
 
 "Let nobody with my conclusion wrangle. 
 Suppose a figure has four equal sides 
 And one rectangle. Every angle, if tried, 
 Will be found equal to every other angle." 
 
 Mr. Hugo's effort, especially the scansion of his last 
 line, filled the room with merriment. It was further- 
 more pointed out to him that he was just as bad as 
 Oswald. Oswald had left out angle, Mr. Hugo had left 
 out square. 
 
 "Come," said Mr. Carlton, "think of another word. 
 We may as well stick to square, but we don't want any 
 more angles." 
 
 Mr. Hugo responded by emitting the monosyllable 
 side. 
 
 "Very well then, side," said Mr. Carlton. "Now 
 side, square. You must all of you bring in both." 
 
 Lady Susannah cast a glance at the clock. "This," 
 she said, "must really be the last. Nest oughtn't to be 
 kept up much longer. Poor child," she whispered to Mr. 
 Barton, "for all her smiles and laughing, she looks tired 
 out of her very life." 
 
 Mr. Barton watched, but he could not trust himself to 
 speak. 
 
 366
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 "What, Rawlin!" said Lord Cots wold, "are you enter- 
 ing the lists , too ? Let me see what it is you've written. ' ' 
 
 He read, nodded, and, despite a gesture on Sir Raw- 
 lin's part, passed the paper to Dr. Thistlewood. With 
 the exception of Mr. Carlton, nobody else appeared to 
 have made much progress. Oswald declared that his 
 inspiration had failed him. Mr. Hugo could get no 
 further than the somewhat irregular couplet 
 
 " If a person should take the square 
 Of the hypothenuse, or a triangle's third side " 
 
 "Well, then," said Mr. Carlton, "you'll have to fall 
 back on mine. It's called 'When the Cat's Away,' by 
 a Heroine Below-stairs: 
 
 " When I ride from Belgrave Square 
 In my lady's coach and pair, 
 With the butler at my side, 
 Don't my sunshade blush with pride!" 
 
 While the applause, somewhat perfunctory, elicited 
 by this was subsiding, Mr. Barton heard his name being 
 uttered by Miss Vivian. "Get Dr. Thistlewood," she 
 was saying to him, "to read out Sir Rawlin's." 
 
 Before the author could enter any effectual protest, 
 Dr. Thistlewood had complied. "Here's something," 
 he said, "in another style." And his voice, as he read, 
 had a musical and grave note in it which slightly an- 
 noyed the author and surprised the rest of the au- 
 dience : 
 
 " Where the city lies foursquare, 
 
 Where the Spirit and the Bride 
 
 Call us to the taintless tide 
 Oh, my fairest of the fair, 
 
 We have drunk our cups beside 
 Other streams than these, and we shall not be there." 
 
 It seemed to Mr. Barton, as he listened, that a sudden 
 revelation had been made to him of another man's in- 
 
 367
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 ner history the history of a heart long dead. These 
 lines, ostensibly a trifle, though too serious for the occa- 
 sion, had, he felt, been written in blood. Meanwhile he 
 was watching Miss Vivian, and he knew that she felt 
 this, too. Her eyes, too, had been opened. They were 
 fixed on Sir Rawlin, who himself had become engaged 
 with a newspaper, and for a second a tear shone in them. 
 They were eyes, thought Mr. Barton, surprised by his 
 own insight, which were "wild with all farewells."
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 MR. BARTON," said Lord Cotswold, when the 
 guests from Cliff's End had gone, "the night is 
 still young. We might now resume what we were saying 
 about our friend Lucretius. If your headache has not 
 disappeared, you've a first-rate doctor at your elbow, 
 who, I hope, will prescribe philosophic discourse as a 
 remedy." 
 
 "Allow me to examine him," said Dr. Thistlewood, 
 genially. "Let me have five minutes with him alone. 
 It's a mild moonlight night. Let us, Mr. Barton, go 
 out on the terrace. We can get our hats and coats in 
 the hall. A breath of fresh air will be good for you." 
 
 Mr. Barton bowed and obeyed. They gained the 
 gravel walk which ran between the castle and the sea. 
 The wind blew faintly from the waves over the battle- 
 ments and the clumps of rosemary. Mr. Barton lifted 
 his hat so as to catch the coolness on his forehead. 
 
 "Well," began Dr. Thistlewood, lighting a long cigar, 
 "what I want to ask you is this: After what you have 
 seen to-night, do you or do you not wish me to go on 
 with my explanations ? Before you answer me, I must 
 beg you to remember one thing. There is only one 
 ground on which I recognize your right to question me 
 as to the present matter at all. I refer to the fact that 
 you regard yourself as Miss Vivian's possible husband. 
 She gave you, I admit, an excuse for so regarding your- 
 self. Since then she has shown you that this excuse was 
 illusory. She has, as I shrewdly suspect, shown you 
 something more to-night. Such being the case, then, is 
 it still your intention to secure, if you can, that affection 
 
 369
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 which she has not yet bestowed on you, and which she 
 has bestowed to speak plainly on a certain other per- 
 son?" 
 
 "My intentions," said Mr. Barton, "are precisely the 
 same as they ever were. I won't pretend to misunder- 
 stand you. Those lines of Sir Rawlin Stantor's, though 
 he no doubt scribbled them off in a mood of cynical idle- 
 ness well, they lit up for me, like a match struck in the 
 darkness, an impression which I had formed already, 
 though I did not consciously understand it. He is a 
 man whose heart is buried in the past, or worn out by 
 the past whether sinfully or otherwise it is not for me 
 to say. If any woman were to love him, she might as 
 well love a figure in a dream. Do you expect me, Dr. 
 Thistlewood, to accept that as a reason for concluding 
 that no other man will ever give her reality?" 
 
 "On the contrary," replied Dr. Thistlewood, "though 
 I can do no more than conjecture, my opinion is that, 
 if you tried long enough, you might succeed." 
 
 "Oh," said Mr. Barton, "so you are of that opinion, 
 too! Well," he went on, impatiently, "what more do 
 you want ? This morning you seemed to be bent on ex- 
 plaining difficulties away. Why do you now insist on 
 them? One would think that you had some interest in 
 parting us." 
 
 "Yes," said Dr. Thistlewood, dryly. "Since you put 
 the matter bluntly, I have." 
 
 Mr. Barton started. "I was right, then!" he ex- 
 claimed. "I was right from the very first! And may 
 I ask your reasons ? Were you or her parents afraid of 
 her falling under a priest's influence? That's why she 
 was snatched away from me. Or you and her friends, 
 perhaps, have some other and more ambitious union in 
 view for her; or you think she would be a brilliant 
 ornament to the house of some rich nephew of your 
 own?" 
 
 "If," said Dr. Thistlewood, "I had a son or a nephew 
 of my own, there is no woman in the world, no matter
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 how depraved, to whom I would not sooner see him 
 married than I would to Miss Nest Vivian." 
 
 Mr. Barton stopped short in his walk and turned on 
 Dr. Thistlewood, speechless. At last he managed to 
 articulate: "You must account to me, sir, for those 
 monstrous words." 
 
 Dr. Thistlewood met the priest's angry and astonished 
 eyes with a something like pity in his own. "My dear, 
 good friend," he said, "I believe I shall have to do so. 
 As a man, I would rather not. As a man of science, 
 nothing would interest me more than to see how you 
 take my news. To-morrow, if you insist on it, this ex- 
 periment shall be made." 
 
 "No, sir," said Mr. Barton, "not to-morrow, but in- 
 stantly. You have dared to slander to slander with 
 the vilest insinuations Dr. Thistlewood, I do not leave 
 this spot till I have made you explain everything." 
 
 "Your tone at this moment," Dr. Thistlewood an- 
 swered, quietly, "shows me how difficult the task of 
 explanation will be. Be patient, and do not waste your 
 anger. But stay. Now I come to think of it, I can give 
 you even to-night not, indeed, the explanation you ask 
 for, but something that may serve as a preface to it. 
 What I have to tell you about Miss Vivian is something 
 she does not know herself." Mr. Barton drew a deep 
 breath of relief. "Come," Dr. Thistlewood continued, 
 "let us go back to Lord Cotswold. I must, for ten min- 
 utes or so, attend to one of the servants here a woman 
 called Sarah Davies, whom I sometimes send to sleep by 
 hypnosis. You and our host, meanwhile, can beguile the 
 time with Lucretius. You are not in a mood for phi- 
 losophy, but still, if I know Lord Cotswold, what he 
 says to-night may have a bearing on what I shall have 
 to say to-morrow." 
 
 The spectacle of Sir Rawlin still absorbed in a news- 
 paper, which he civilly put down when the two ab- 
 sentees re-entered, helped to restore Mr. Barton to a 
 semblance of normal calm, and when Lord Cotswold, 
 
 37i
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 with evident pleasure in his eyes, proposed to renew 
 the discussion which Mr. Hugo had prematurely closed, 
 Mr. Barton felt it would be a relief to listen if not to 
 argue. 
 
 " You were quite right," said Lord Cotswold "though 
 the boy could, of course, not know it in what you said of 
 the Lucretian view of matter, and the poet's leap from 
 matter, as understood by himself, to life. But, if I may 
 venture to say so, you are quite wrong as to this the 
 conception of matter which is forced on us by the dis- 
 coveries of modern science when these discoveries are 
 rationalized by the logic of modern philosophy. With 
 respect to the conception of what matter is, and what we 
 know about it, the scholastics are Lucretians, only they 
 jump from matter to movement, and the movements of 
 life especially, and they have, too, the advantage of Lu- 
 cretius, by the aid of a perpetual miracle. You have 
 studied Thomas Aquinas, but have you ever studied 
 Kant? If you had, you would realize that matter, for 
 the modern thinker, is not, as it seems to you, a collec- 
 tion of boy's marbles, which only move when a mind 
 apart from themselves plays with them. They are sym- 
 bols of the mind universal. They are the gleaming on 
 the fringes of its garment. Between matter and mind 
 Mr. Barton, I am not dictating to you; I am merely 
 trying to express to you the ideas of the modern thinker 
 between matter and mind the antique opposition dis- 
 appears. In the thought of Kant they become one for 
 the thinker. They become one for the physicist in your 
 brain and in mine. Thinkers of your school, Mr. Bar- 
 ton, think and speak of the brain merely as it appears 
 to their eyes generally to their eyes unassisted by so 
 much as a microscope. Could they only see it as it is, 
 by some gift of the double vision, that gray pulp, which 
 disgusts them when it oozes from a broken skull, would 
 be a flame that burned and quivered with all the colors 
 of the rainbow, with the emerald of all leaves growing, 
 with the jasper of the celestial city, with the blue of the 
 
 372
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 sapphire pavement that was under the throne of God. 
 Forgive me for my seeming dogmatism. I am merely 
 throwing down the glove to you. Some other day or 
 night, I hope, it may interest you to take up the chal- 
 lenge." 
 
 Dr. Thistlewood, who had been out of the room dur- 
 ing most of Lord Cotswold's allocution, had returned in 
 time for the end of it, and was now in the doorway lis- 
 tening. "I want," he said, "to show Mr. Barton some- 
 thing which, when that day or night comes, he may pos- 
 sibly find of use to him. Will you, Mr. Barton, come 
 with me into the big room which you once honored with 
 your presence when some moving photographs were ex- 
 hibited there. I am going," he continued, as Mr. Bar- 
 ton followed him, "to show you something which bears 
 on your conception of the brain and the transcendental. 
 The indivisible self uses the divisible organism as its 
 tool such is your own argument; but the tool, though 
 it may sometimes fail to obey the master's orders, is 
 incompetent, being itself lifeless, to dictate orders to 
 the master. I am not going to weary you to-night with 
 any philosophy of my own. I am only going to show 
 you a simple though not a very common experiment. 
 In there, in the big room let me tell you this before 
 I open the door we shall find the woman who has asked 
 me to secure her a good night's rest. I have often done 
 this by hypnotism, a process to which she is very sus- 
 ceptible. Hypnotized subjects pass through different 
 phases, of which the first two are called technically the 
 lethargic and the cataleptic. We shall find Sarah Davies 
 in the second. You watch what happens. That will 
 teach you more than any learned words of mine." 
 
 Dr. Thistlewood opened the door, and at the end of 
 the room within, which was now brilliantly lighted, 
 Sarah Davis, with Dr. Thistlewood's servant near her, 
 was seated like a thing of wax. Dr. Thistlewood, as 
 he and Mr. Barton approached her, took from a shelf 
 a small box containing crochet-work. This box he 
 
 373
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 placed in the woman's hands. "Sarah/' he said, "I 
 should like to watch your stitches." The woman made 
 no answer, but at once began to ply her needles, in the 
 use of which she exhibited great dexterity. Dr. Thistle- 
 wood allowed her to proceed for a little while uninter- 
 rupted. Then turning to Mr. Barton, as though to 
 secure his attention, he said: "Now, watch what hap- 
 pens." 
 
 Laying a finger on the woman's left eyelid, he drew 
 it downward over the eye, in which position it remained. 
 The moment this was done her right hand fell on her 
 lap, as though it were a lifeless model, carrying the 
 crochet with it, but the left hand, though now not ac- 
 complishing anything, still continued in the air the 
 pantomime of its previous work. 
 
 "Well," said Mr. Barton, with a sigh of impatient 
 weariness, "and what does that prove?" 
 
 "We all," replied Dr. Thistlewood, "know that we 
 have two eyes. It is well, though not so generally 
 known, that we have two brains also. The left brain 
 works the right hand, the right brain works the left. 
 There is the same crosswise connection between the 
 brain and the two eyes. If the right eyelid is closed 
 the left brain becomes lethargic, and the whole right 
 side is paralyzed. If we lower the left eyelid it's the 
 other way about." 
 
 "Well," said Mr. Barton, doggedly, "that fact, if 
 genuine, is curious. But what then ? If you shoot one 
 horse of a pair the coachman must get on with the 
 other. But the coachman himself is unaltered. You 
 can easily apply my parable to your two brains, or your 
 twenty brains, if you like it better, and the self." 
 
 "I told you," said Dr. Thistlewood, "that I wasn't 
 going to argue to-night. I'm just going to show you 
 one experiment more. Francesco yes, yes, now she 
 will do nicely come a little closer to her and speak 
 into that ear. Tell her her brother's drowned. Mr. 
 Barton, watch her face." 
 
 374
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 "Sarah," said Francesco, into her left ear, "your 
 brother was drowned last evening." 
 
 "Sarah," said Dr. Thistlewood, into her right ear, 
 "your brother has arrived at Plymouth." 
 
 The result was singular. One half of the woman's 
 face was distorted with sudden anguish, the other half 
 smiled with joy, and the eye lit up and sparkled. It 
 seemed as though two half faces, belonging to two dif- 
 ferent people, had been stuck together with glue in 
 order to produce one. 
 
 "Thank you, Francesco, "said Dr. Thistlewood; "that's 
 all for the present. Now we'll send her to bed and 
 order her a good night's rest. Mr. Barton," he contin- 
 ued, when the woman had left the room, "once more 
 let me tell you that I'm not going to moralize now. I 
 will only say one word of comment on what you have 
 just witnessed. An operator, by performing the purely 
 physical act of raising or lowering the eyelids of another 
 human being, is able, through the connection of the 
 eyelids with various parts of the organism, to divide 
 that being's individual self into two. You admit that 
 such facts are curious. 'Curious' was your own word. 
 You mean by that that you had never thought about 
 them or even known of their existence before. Well, 
 all I ask of you is that you think them over between now 
 and to-morrow morning, and then, since you are de- 
 termined to extract it from me, I will go to the very 
 root of my meaning in what I said about Miss Vivian's 
 character. I must ask you to come here. I shall have 
 to use certain appliances which, unluckily, are not port- 
 able."
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 MR. BARTON'S belated discovery of the nature of 
 Miss Vivian's feelings, coupled as it was with his 
 discovery that Sir Rawlin made no response to them, 
 had not inflicted on him any new dismay. On the con- 
 trary, it had afforded him a sort of solemn encourage- 
 ment. It had also lightened his heart by suggesting a 
 reasonable explanation of the facts which Dr. Thistle- 
 wood that morning had left involved in mystery. If 
 matters had ended here Mr. Barton might possibly 
 have slept in peace, the strange scar and its origin being 
 for the time forgotten. But the latter part of the even- 
 ing had undone the work of the first. Why had that 
 woman with her crochet-work been brought in to mop 
 and mow at him? Even the sound of Lord Cotswold's 
 voice, as it talked about the double vision, and the brain 
 cells with their jewelled fire, made in his ears an echoing 
 which was vaguely sinister. These things, however, were 
 trifles. They might have passed out of his mind if 
 it had not been for Dr. Thistlewood's statement, made 
 by him with such a ghostly emphasis, that the most 
 depraved of women was fitter to be an honest ma'n's 
 wife than Miss Vivian. All that night his sleep was a 
 conflict with distorted dreams. Now he saw eyelids 
 being torn from living faces, now arms being wounded 
 for some diabolic purpose, while the operators smiled 
 and watched. Now he saw brains in bottles, burn- 
 ing like unhallowed lamps and filling dissecting - rooms 
 with gleams of blue and carmine. Now he saw girls 
 with prayer shining in their eyes, while allurement 
 lurked in their laughter as they lounged on sofas and 
 
 376
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 hid their lips behind fans or fragments of foolscap 
 paper. 
 
 The following morning, when he entered Dr. Thistle- 
 wood's large, bare room, he felt like a man about to sub- 
 mit to an operation. The very aspect of the place had 
 something in it austere and formidable. There were 
 signs of preparation, he could not tell for what, and Dr. 
 Thistlewood himself was busy arranging a series of ob- 
 jects which lay in a row on a long, narrow deal table. 
 
 His manner when he greeted Mr. Barton was not in- 
 deed unfriendly, but it seemed to put friendship aside, 
 as though it were for the moment an irrelevancy. 
 
 "If you look about you," he said, slightly smiling, 
 "you will realize why it was necessary for you to come 
 to me in my own quarters. Do you see that big white 
 sheet drawn across the end of the room? Do you see 
 that big gramophone and the other machine standing 
 near it? Do you see those things on the table a row 
 of portraits, framed together in twos ? Do you see that 
 by each pair there is something of the nature of a 
 memorandum? I shall have to make use of all these 
 appliances in order to give you the answer which you 
 still are bent on forcing from me. Come, let us make 
 a beginning. Our concern being with Miss Vivian, the 
 young lady whom you desire to marry, we'll start our 
 proceedings with something very closely connected with 
 her, though after that it will be necessary for us to make 
 digressions. In the gramophone at this moment is the 
 record of a very interesting speech. You shall hear a 
 word or two now. By-and-by we will have the whole 
 of it." 
 
 Dr. Thistlewood, as he spoke, set the instrument in 
 motion, and out of its trumpet-shaped throat issued 
 Miss Vivian's voice, with every nuance of articulation 
 perfect. "What shall I say?" it asked. "Shall I re- 
 peat some passage out of a book?" 
 
 "Good Heaven!" exclaimed Mr. Barton, under his 
 breath. 
 
 377
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 "For the moment," said Dr. Thistlewood, "we'll put 
 that record by, and you shall hear a word or two from 
 another. Now, Mr. Barton, do you recognize this?" 
 
 The instrument spoke again, and with equal fidelity 
 to life the following words saluted Mr. Barton's ears: 
 "Come, Dr. Thistlewood, stick me in the right place. 
 How must I speak? So? All right. Here goes, then." 
 
 Mr. Barton's face of mixed pain and disgust showed 
 that he recognized the voice of Miss Enid Wynn. 
 
 "Of that speech, too," said Dr. Thistlewood, "we will 
 by-and-by have the rest. I use the gramophone system- 
 atically for making psychological memoranda, but be- 
 fore we come back to it I must show you some other 
 documents, which bear on the cases of people who are 
 closely alike physically. On that table will you come 
 to it? I have arranged a series of photographs. We'll 
 take this pair to begin with. These two young men, as 
 you see, are strikingly like each other. There is the same 
 mole on the left cheek of each. The hair from both fore- 
 heads grows in the same way." 
 
 "Yes," said Mr. Barton, "the difference seems mainly 
 one of expression. One of them looks good and amiable, 
 the other has all the look of a thoroughly depraved 
 young ruffian." 
 
 "Those," said Dr. Thistlewood, "are photographs of 
 the two Fourriers. Here is a series of similar pairs 
 the Dantons, the Voirons. You needn't look at all of 
 them, but you must not omit this pair. Here are two 
 photographs representing the two Desmoulins. In each 
 pair you have the same thing a striking resemblance of 
 feature and a striking difference of expression. Now 
 you shall hear them talk. Each pair of portraits are 
 numbered one and two. We'll begin with the two 
 Fourriers. In this box is a gramophone record of some 
 utterance characteristic of each of them. We'll begin with 
 Fourrier I. the good Fourrier." The record was placed 
 in position, and a voice emerged from the instrument 
 describing in grateful accents the kindness with which 
 
 378
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 the speaker had been treated by certain Belgian fathers, 
 the sincerity with which he repented of his early religious 
 levity, and his constant sense of the goodness and pres- 
 ence of "le bon Dieu." " Now," said Dr. Thistlewood, 
 "I'll give you Fourrier II." The voice which emerged 
 presently seemed at first to be identical with the pre- 
 ceding; but it quickly changed its tone, and Mr. Barton 
 found himself listening, almost before he knew it, to the 
 obscene rant of an anarchist, who declared that the 
 priests and the bourgeoisie should alike be killed like 
 rats, and boasted of the rapes and thefts which he had 
 committed, and which he threatened to repeat. 
 
 "Here," said Dr. Thistlewood, "are other similar 
 records Voiron I., Voiron II.; Danton I., Danton II., 
 and, I dare say, twenty more. But the two Desmoulins 
 will be enough for us. Before you listen to them come 
 and examine their photographs. I have, for the mo- 
 ment, covered up everything but the faces. Except for 
 a difference in the manner in which they do their hair, 
 the faces of these two women can hardly be called dis- 
 tinguishable. The hair of Desmoulins I. is arranged 
 after the fashion of a nun. The hair of Desmoulins II. 
 is tousled over her eyes like the hair of a dancer at a 
 cafe chantant. Would you like to see the figures?" 
 Dr. Thistlewood drew a sheet of paper aside, and one 
 of the figures revealed itself habited in a plain black 
 dress. The hands were clasped devoutly. On the 
 breast was a large cross. The other figure was empha- 
 sizing the studied deficiency of its clothing by the man- 
 ner in which a foot was extended and a portion of the 
 skirt raised. Dr. Thistlewood then, as before, gave by 
 means of his gramophone a specimen of the voice cor- 
 responding to each picture. "Listen," he said; "this 
 is Desmoulins number one. Do you hear ? She calls 
 herself ' Sister Martha of the Five Wounds.' She doesn't 
 talk of 'my' dress. She talks of 'our' dress, as a nun 
 would, and she has all the intonations of a nun. Now 
 for number two. I must apologize for asking you to 
 *s 379
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 listen to what's coming." What Mr. Barton heard was 
 a snatch or two of a French song, the unrepeatable mean- 
 ing of which he divined rather than understood, mixed 
 with addresses to some favored or desired cheri, the 
 meaning of which was equally unrepeatable and very 
 much less obscure. Dr. Thistlewood stopped the gramo- 
 phone before the performance was complete. 
 
 "Well, Mr. Barton," he said, "I have now given you 
 a few illustrations, and could easily have given you more, 
 of the fact that characters of a violently contrasted kind 
 may belong to organisms which exhibit no perceptible 
 differences except those which the characters impose on 
 them by modifying facial expression, dress, the doing of 
 the hair, and so forth. I suppose you follow me thus 
 far." 
 
 "I do," said Mr. Barton, at last showing some anima- 
 tion, "and what you have shown me shows, if you will 
 permit me to say so, that your whole conception of the 
 relation between the organism and the self must be 
 groundless. For if two organisms are alike so you 
 told us at Cliff's End the two selves associated with 
 them must be proportionally alike also; but everything 
 which you have just shown me what does it do? Why, 
 it blows this conclusion to pieces in the most striking 
 way, in the most convincing way, imaginable. It seems 
 to me that your philosophy has been hoist with its own 
 petard." 
 
 "That," replied Dr. Thistlewood, "is a criticism which 
 deserves an answer, but before I attempt one we'll have 
 one demonstration more. We have heard from the gram- 
 ophone already the few opening words of something 
 that was said by Miss Vivian and of something that 
 was said by Miss Wynn. Let us now listen to the rest. 
 What Miss Vivian spoke for me was a passage from a 
 favorite book. She named the author. It may inter- 
 est you to note her taste. Her first words you've heard 
 already. Listen to what comes next." Mr. Barton lis- 
 tened, and what he heard was this: "Our souls, stirred 
 
 380
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 by the imagination, long to follow those ships, for to 
 us it seems that they are going to some better country 
 to some land of the heart's desire. But in the lands 
 where the journeys of those ships end the heart is not 
 satisfied. Sorrow will come down and meet them as 
 soon as they touch the quays. So it is with all the fair 
 things of nature. They awake in us a hunger which they 
 themselves cannot satisfy. What, then, can satisfy it? 
 As Augustine says, He only by whom all these things 
 were made." 
 
 Mr. Barton listened in absolute stillness. Then he 
 averted his head. His eyes swam with tears, and Dr. 
 Thistlewood, divining that this was inevitable, made a 
 noise to proclaim his inattention as he busied himself 
 with a new record. 
 
 "Now, Mr. Barton," he said, " I am going to give you 
 something which, though it is certain to cause you pain, 
 it is absolutely necessary, for your own sake, to inflict 
 on you. You will hear an account of an incident in 
 which you played a part yourself." 
 
 The gramophone hummed, and the voice of Miss 
 Wynn leaped from it. 
 
 "Come, Dr. Thistlewood," it began, "stick me in the 
 right place. How must I speak? So? All right. Here 
 goes, then. My good aunt, who fancied I was a bit of 
 a heathen, wanted me to see that tame cat of a priest 
 of hers, and partly to please her, for she's an awfully 
 good sort, and partly to see if he was of the same breed 
 as the rest well, I just said I would." Absolutely re- 
 producing the placidity with which the actual account 
 opened, and the growing excitement and virulence which 
 soon began to infect it, the mimic voice proceeded. 
 "I'd meant at first," it said, "if I could, to have kept 
 my temper and merely draw the fool out. I managed 
 to stop pretty cool I must say that for myself even 
 when he was trying to come over me with his Gods and 
 his Hells and Heavens and his Spirit of Evil and his 
 Fall and his Book of Genesis and his Judgment and
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 his Immortal Life and his silly little Sacraments, which 
 he rattled at me like a baby's rattle; but when he took 
 to telling me that my parents were under his severe dis- 
 pleasure, and talked of his giving orders to me yes, me! 
 as my spiritual director, then at last I let fly, and I 
 gave it him hot and strong." Then some phrases fol- 
 lowed relating to the redemption of the world which 
 had given a kind of shock to even her original auditors, 
 and the voice wound up by saying, with a half laugh: 
 "I should have liked to have given him a taste of one 
 of his own sacraments myself, and confessed to him then 
 and there. I think that some of my faults, my own 
 faults, my very grievous faults, would have sent him 
 away cured of any wish to absolve me." 
 
 "Horrible!" exclaimed Mr. Barton, "horrible! I can 
 listen to no more. Who can doubt, when confronted 
 with depravity and malice such as that, that a living 
 Spirit of Evil makes certain souls his prey? Not only 
 in word to myself, but by the precocious wickedness of 
 her acts, that wretched girl has outraged the sacred 
 sacraments which she derides. Besides baptism she has 
 already received two others confirmation and the holy 
 eucharist and she laughed, though merely a child, at 
 the moment of receiving both yes, even at the mo- 
 ment of receiving her Lord's body. I ought, perhaps, to 
 be only sad when I think of her. But I can't contain 
 myself. I am devoured by indignation also." 
 
 "I understand your feelings," said Dr. Thistlewood, 
 more gravely than ever. "Were I in your position 
 they would be mine. Miss Enid Wynn, of whom I 
 know a great deal more than you do, represents every- 
 thing which is bound to sadden and horrify you. Her 
 intelligence is considerable. It is deliberately directed 
 against all that you hold sacred. She is cruel, after a 
 fashion which is calculated to shock anybody; and the 
 fact that in a selfish way she is very far from unamiable 
 does but exhibit her perversities in a yet more heinous 
 light. For the moment, however, we will drop Miss 
 
 382
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 Wynn. Mr. Barton, come back to these photographs. 
 There they lie in pairs, one after the other Fourrier I., 
 Fourrier II., and the rest of them. I have a confession 
 to make to you. For simplicity's sake in explaining 
 things, I took you in just now. I led you to assume 
 that those pairs of human beings, so similar in their ap- 
 pearance, were twins. They are not so. Be good enough 
 to look again at the two Fourriers. Fourrier I. and Four- 
 rier II. are not twins. They are one and the same per- 
 son. The first photograph that showing the good 
 face was taken at noon on August 5, 1899, just after 
 he had said what you heard about his gratitude to the 
 Belgian fathers. The second photograph was taken at 
 noon, August qth, just before or just after that speech 
 of his about rape and murder. In the interval he had 
 been the victim of an attack of hystero-epilepsy, fol- 
 lowed by a stupor which lasted thirty-seven hours, and 
 that mild and devout young man woke up from it a 
 blaspheming ruffian. In these two conditions Louis 
 Fourrier is two totally different characters, and in each 
 condition he knows nothing of what he said or did in 
 the other. Here we come again to the Dantons. There's 
 a note of this case though the ink is rather faint on 
 the margin: 'Alexis Danton, a native of Aries, educated 
 by his uncle, a priest. Up to the age of fourteen, a 
 nervous boy, exceptionally gentle and religious. At 
 that age, frightened by a viper hidden in a bundle of 
 twigs, is thrown into convulsions, then becomes uncon- 
 scious; then, on recovering his senses, exhibits wholly 
 new dispositions, knows nothing of his past life, and five 
 weeks later murders an old man in a wood. Is tried 
 for the crime, and while the trial is proceeding a second 
 crisis conies. His original character is restored to him, 
 and all memory and knowledge of his second state dis- 
 appear.' Here are the two Voirons. That note is by 
 Dr. Remusat. Voiron I. changed into Voiron II. sud- 
 denly, and, as it seemed at first, without any change in 
 his physical state whatever. But a change, of course, 
 
 383
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 there had been a profound change and its stigma 
 was soon detected. The entire surface of his skin had 
 suddenly become insensible. Here are the pictures of 
 Bourne, Barnes, Hanna (Hanna was a clergyman like 
 yourself), Harris, Alma, Gregson, the celebrated Felida, 
 and so on. But the great case which will illustrate the 
 matter most clearly is that of Louise Desmoulins." 
 
 "Go on," said Mr. Barton, resignedly. "I have been 
 face to face myself with the depths of human depravity. 
 Whatever you may show me, if it must be so, I can en- 
 dure." 
 
 "I will begin, then," said Dr. Thistlewood, "with a 
 sketch of this woman's life. But first, if you will ex- 
 cuse me" and here he touched a bell "I must say 
 something to my servant. Francesco, you will be good 
 enough to push the bioscope forward. I shall want the 
 lime-light presently. Well, Mr. Barton," he resumed, 
 lowering his voice somewhat, "Louise Desmoulins, be- 
 tween the ages of seventeen and twenty, lived a life of 
 the lowest profligacy. She was then rescued and placed 
 in a convent near Dijon. Her reformation was rapid 
 and remarkable. Her acts of mortification were con- 
 stant. She was constantly on her knees in the chapel. 
 Angels visited her, and in ecstasy she saw the Virgin. 
 At the end of two years comes a violent nervous crisis, 
 caused by a fall down-stairs, and followed by a long 
 lethargy. She wakes up and her religious life is ob- 
 literated. She has the look, the manners, and the lan- 
 guage of a vicious woman of the street. You have heard 
 her speak under both conditions. This change from one 
 condition to another continued to recur at intervals till 
 her death at the age of thirty. Generally the transitions 
 were too slow, being accompanied by an intervening tor- 
 por, to be susceptible of reproduction by the bioscope. 
 Her case, however, was under my observation for a 
 somewhat prolonged period, and I had my appliances 
 in readiness should a suitable opportunity arise. It 
 came at last. Louise, who for six months had been in 
 
 384
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 a condition of sanctity, fell asleep one morning after 
 breakfast, a thing which, as it was not usual with her, 
 roused the attention of my assistant. He carefully 
 watched her when she woke up a few hours later, and 
 then he hastily sent for me. 'The change is coming,' 
 he said, 'but it's hardly begun yet.' And, so far as I 
 could see at first, her demeanor was still that of Sister 
 Martha of the Five Wounds. In a locked closet open- 
 ing from Sister Martha's room I had secreted that very 
 apparatus which my servant has just finished preparing 
 for us. I told my assistant to get it ready for action, 
 and to start it when I gave the signal. You shall now 
 see what it recorded. Francesco what's become of you ? 
 I want you to close all the shutters. That's right 
 as tight as you can. And now go to the bioscope." 
 
 Presently, in the darkness, the sheet at the end of the 
 room exhibited a huge circle of blank, unilluminated 
 whiteness. Then the whiteness turned into walls and 
 furniture, bleak and meagre, and depicted in brownish 
 monochrome, and standing among these was a woman 
 of weak demeanor, who began, having first crossed her- 
 self, to dust and arrange the chairs. Her expression 
 was sweet and spiritual, and her movements slow and 
 placid, till she came to a poor looking-glass, before which 
 she abruptly paused and set herself, as though fasci- 
 nated by the sight, to examine her own reflection. As 
 she did so her hands began to busy themselves with her 
 dress and hair, the severity of her compressed lips re- 
 laxing very gradually into a smile. First her hair was 
 pulled forward till it nearly touched her eyebrows. Then 
 the body of her dress, buttoned high at her throat, was 
 loosened, and as much of her figure was displayed as the 
 circumstances of the case made possible. Meanwhile 
 her eyes were losing their late spiritual quiet. As they 
 ogled themselves in the glass they sparkled, and pres- 
 ently, as was quite evident, her lips hummed some song. 
 Then her feet moved, and she slightly raised her skirts. 
 At this juncture Dr. Thistlewood came into the field of 
 
 385
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 the picture. The woman turned and saw him, and her 
 transformation was at once complete. She advanced 
 toward him with a dancing step, raising her skirts light- 
 ly. Her face was bent somewhat downward and her 
 leering eyes were lifted. He was seen to watch her in- 
 tently, as though she were some curious animal, and 
 then to check her progress with an imperious gesture 
 of the hand. Then the scene flickered, and the illumi- 
 nated sheet was white again. 
 
 Dr. Thistlewood, when the exhibition was over, left 
 Dr. Barton for the moment to the company of his own 
 thoughts, and, telling his servant to open one of the 
 windows, added, in a low tone: "Give me box g$A 
 the locked box the box containing the series which I 
 took and developed in Gloucestershire. And then you 
 can go. I've something to say to this gentleman of a 
 very private kind." 
 
 Mr. Barton, when Dr. Thistlewood returned to him, 
 wore a somewhat dazed expression. "I feel," he said, 
 "as if you'd been taking me through all the horrors of 
 a mad-house." 
 
 Dr. Thistlewood gripped his arm, and with an al- 
 most solemn severity, said: "Let me look at you. Are 
 you well ? Can you bear what is bound to shock 
 you?" 
 
 "Yes! yes!" replied Mr. Barton, impatiently. "God 
 help me, speak out and have done with it!" 
 
 "So be it," said Dr. Thistlewood, his solemn manner 
 persisting. "You have seen what has happened to my 
 little fiction of the twins. You have seen how these 
 persons represented by these pairs of portraits I use 
 the word ' person ' in its commonly accepted sense are 
 severally not, as they seem to be, two persons, but one. 
 You have seen this with special vividness in the case of 
 Louise Desmoulins. Mr. Barton, since you will have it, 
 the case of Miss Vivian and Miss Wynn and the case of 
 Louise Desmoulins are the same. Whether the names of 
 Wynn and Vivian are the names of different souls is a 
 
 386
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 question which you must settle as you please. They 
 are, at all events, names for the same body." 
 
 Mr. Barton stared. His jaw fell. For some seconds 
 the entire room was silent. 
 
 "Come," said Dr. Thistle wood, brusquely, "sit down 
 and recover yourself. Let me get you a glass of brandy. 
 There, drink that, and don't try to speak for a minute 
 or two. Meanwhile I'll arrange something else. We 
 may possibly find it necessary." 
 
 He was still engaged in his operations, over which he 
 had intentionally lingered, when Mr. Barton, with re- 
 covered voice, interrupted him. "Do you mean to tell 
 me," he gasped "do you positively mean to tell me 
 but no, this is lunacy do I understand you to be seri- 
 ously asserting that Miss Vivian in reality has never 
 been away at all that Miss Wynn was Miss Vivian her- 
 self masquerading in different clothes that Miss Vivian 
 made a mock of religion? But no the whole thing's 
 incredible." 
 
 Dr. Thistlewood was somewhat relieved by Mr. Bar- 
 ton's apparent calm, though he knew it was the calm of 
 a consternation which as yet did but partly understand 
 itself. "I admit," he said, "that it's confusing. Let 
 me tell you the whole story. Miss Vivian, at the be- 
 ginning of her illness, did go away for a day or two. 
 She was sent to my house at Malvern. Her parents are 
 naturally anxious that her peculiarities should be kept 
 secret, and by the advice of Dr. Gonteau, at Nice, she 
 was called in her different conditions by two different 
 names. In her case these changes, which have several 
 times occurred, are gradual, and such being the case I 
 was able, by taking her away for a day or two, to bring 
 her back in her other condition as though she were really 
 a sister. A contingency of this kind had been foreseen 
 by her parents from the first, and two alternative ward- 
 robes were sent with her when she came to Southquay. 
 Her elderly French maid a discreet and very well-paid 
 person knows the secret; but poor Lady Susannah 
 
 387
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 little does she guess what those two wardrobes mean! 
 As to what happened after the accident with the motor- 
 car, that is simplicity itself. Knowing the turn which 
 events might possibly take, I brought the young lady 
 here, the severe inflammation of her eyes providing me 
 with a good excuse, and here she remained in a very 
 curious state till one fine morning she woke up as Miss 
 Vivian again, believing herself to have been lying here, 
 unconscious through fever, ever since the memorable 
 storm ; and she only knows about that because I thought 
 it best to tell her. I see I see it in your eyes and in- 
 deed I can hardly wonder at it that the whole story 
 even yet seems nothing to you but a bad dream. If 
 one's in for a painful business, it's best to get it over 
 and have done with it. Let me show you one thing 
 more which will probably quicken your comprehension. 
 Will you stay where you are? I am going to close the 
 window again. Now watch the sheet. What the lens 
 is about to throw on it is a room in my house at Malvern, 
 and in that room will take place an incident like the in- 
 cident which you have already witnessed from the life 
 of the woman Desmoulins." 
 
 Again on the sheet came a circle of blank whiteness. 
 Then the whiteness again gave place to a room, this one 
 being daintily though very simply furnished, and there, 
 on a sofa, was lying a female figure whose dark hair, un- 
 bound, was dishevelled on a pale pillow. The eyes were 
 closed, the limbs were quiet as a statue's. Mr. Barton 
 held his breath. He was looking at Miss Vivian. The 
 limbs were quiet, but he realized in a few seconds that a 
 movement, though not of the limbs, had already begun 
 somewhere. It was a heaving of the beloved breast. 
 Suddenly, with a start, she that seemed dead rose. With 
 her eyes wide open she lifted herself into a sitting post- 
 ure. She stared, blinked, frowned, and her mouth 
 opened and moved like the mouth of one who shouts. 
 Then from behind some curtain a woman, evidently a 
 nurse, approached, stroked her hair, and spoke to her 
 
 388
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 with reassuring gestures. Whereupon a little dog sprang 
 up and scratched at the invalid's coverlet. Mr. Barton, 
 meanwhile, had heard a humming behind him, followed 
 by Dr. Thistlewood's words, "Listen, they are going 
 to talk," and a voice which he recognized as the voice 
 of Miss Enid Wynn cried: "Hi, there! where am I? 
 What the devil is all this?" "It's all right, miss," said 
 the nurse. "You've been ill since that day in the hunt- 
 ing field." The invalid blinked again, and then, catching 
 sight of the dog, "Take the little brute away," she said. 
 "Why the dickens have they brought it here?" Then 
 the gramophone ceased and the pictured scene vanished. 
 
 " Mr. Barton," said Dr. Thistlewood, who was now 
 opening the window-shutters, "the last veil has been 
 withdrawn from the seclusion of Miss Nest Vivian. I 
 have withdrawn it only because she is the woman whom 
 you have hoped to marry." 
 
 From Mr. Barton there came no word of answer. 
 Still seated, as though in profound meditation, with his 
 head bent forward, he was resting his chin on his high, 
 clerical waistcoat. At last he rose, drew himself up 
 with an air of suppressed haughtiness, and, turning to 
 Dr. Thistlewood, broke into an unnatural laugh. " Prob- 
 ably," he said, in a voice hardly less unnatural, "you 
 don't believe in the New Testament. But this is a case 
 of possession. I recognize every symptom. For such 
 evils even to-day there is One who can provide a cure. 
 I thank you. You have done your duty. My God, let 
 me go out and think!"
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 AS a rule, any great calamity is, in proportion to its 
 /-\ magnitude, inadequately realized by its victim at 
 the moment of its actual incidence partly because it 
 inflicts a shock by which the mind is at first paralyzed, 
 partly because its effects are complex, revealing them- 
 selves to the victim's consciousness slowly and one by 
 one. It is never, indeed, borne so easily as it is at the 
 first moment. Of this fact Mr. Barton's case was an il- 
 lustration. " Here is an example of possession. Through 
 my aid, under God, she shall be delivered from the un- 
 clean spirit." This thought, which he carried with him 
 when he left the Turkish Castle, was in its own way 
 staggering, for it brought before him the dread power 
 of evil in an almost visible shape; and yet, like a gleam 
 of sunshine, it cheered him till he reached his home, for 
 it offered a solution of his perplexities, and also a prac- 
 tical hope, both of which were in accordance with his 
 own beliefs. But as soon as he found himself in his 
 library, and exercise no longer distracted him, his in- 
 tellect became like a caldron over whose ferment he 
 had no control, and thoughts began to rise like clouds 
 from it which blotted the pale gleam out. 
 
 That a devil should be permitted to oust Miss Vivian 
 from her own body from that temple of the Holy Ghost 
 by means of an attack of influenza or an electrical 
 condition of the atmosphere, neither of which were con- 
 nected with any fault of her own this, so his intellect 
 urged on him, was not a very welcome conception ; but 
 that the devil should be exorcised, not by any spiritual 
 agency, but by the physical shock resulting from the 
 
 390
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 vagaries of a motor-car, was a conception more unwel- 
 come still. It would open the door to a materialism 
 more grotesque even than Dr. Thistlewood's. Perhaps, 
 however and here was a new suggestion the weakness 
 of her body, which rendered possession possible, might 
 be cured once for all through the strength which would 
 soon be imparted to her by confirmation. This sugges- 
 tion had hardly had time to form itself before it was ex- 
 tinguished by the reflection, forced on Mr. Barton now 
 for the first time, that this being whom he called Miss 
 Vivian, and whom he had learned to love while prepar- 
 ing her for that great sacrament, had received it already 
 had received it years ago. Then his mind, like a 
 mechanism which developed some new movement, sud- 
 denly swept these intellectual problems away from him, 
 and began to torment him with an alternation of two 
 pictures and of two sets of verbal memories. He saw 
 Miss Vivian looking at him as she had looked at him out- 
 side the church on that sacred and remembered morning 
 when he had taken his first walk with her. He saw her 
 as she was when he had talked to her about God and 
 human affection. He saw her as she was when, although 
 then unwittingly, she had given her lips to his. And 
 each of these visions brought with it the tones of her 
 appealing voice, charged as they were with the uplift- 
 ings and the tremulous susceptibilities of the soul. Then 
 came a second image associated with the name of Wynn 
 and a voice from the very thought of which he still re- 
 coiled in horror. With a spasm of incredulity which 
 fought in vain against conviction, he asked himself if 
 the lips of prayer which had once touched his own were 
 those very lips which in his hearing had been foul with 
 malice and blasphemy. 
 
 From intellectual, from moral, and from emotional 
 tortures such as these there seemed to be no escape. 
 One passed from his consciousness only to give place to 
 another, till the series began anew in a fatal and closed 
 circle. 
 
 39 1
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 "Luncheon is ready, if you please, sir," said the voice 
 of his maid, interrupting him. 
 
 "Leave it on the table," said Mr. Barton, wearily. 
 "I'll take what I want when I'm ready for it. And stay 
 run across to the vicarage and say that I've just been 
 with a doctor. I have what the doctors would call a 
 neuralgic headache, and for a day or two may be unfit 
 for anything. Ask the vicar to arrange about the ser- 
 vices with Mr. Moore and with Mr. Entwistle. Or, no 
 I'll write a line myself. Don't go telling people that I'm 
 ill. All I want is to be left absolutely quiet." 
 
 When the note had been written and despatched a 
 new impulse took possession of him. Quitting his house, 
 which he now felt to be intolerable, he wandered off with 
 his sorrows to a little, unfrequented bay, where he threw 
 himself down on the softness of the white sand, and the 
 sighs and the murmurs of the water lulled him out of 
 the sense of time. When at length he roused himself, he 
 was conscious of a bright and tender thought stealing 
 into the blank misery which now made up his being, 
 bringing to him a new hope. It was the thought of Miss 
 Vivian as she must have been when a little child, be- 
 fore her troubles, whatever might be their nature, fell 
 on her. Here, at all events, was a soul fresh from the 
 hands of God, which could not be lost or sullied except 
 through its own perversity. However its life might be 
 hidden, it was impossible that its life should cease, and, 
 come what might, he never would let it go. When he 
 re-entered his house he found a note from his vicar 
 saying all that was suitable, and this note had been 
 placed on a bulky packet, the direction of which was in 
 the writing of Dr. Thistlewood. 
 
 Still disposed to be sanguine, Mr. Barton tore the 
 packet open, and found that among its contents were 
 these few words from the sender: 
 
 "I said that there were many details which I could not ex- 
 plain this morning, but now that you have time to realize the 
 
 392
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 general character of the situation, the enclosed documents may 
 help you in forming a clearer estimate of it. They are notes of 
 Miss Vivian's case, made by Dr. Gonteau, of Nice, who has 
 known her from her birth onward." 
 
 These notes, written in French, were encumbered with 
 much medical detail. Mr. Barton, to facilitate his com- 
 prehension of them, had to make notes of his own. 
 Thus aided, after many hours of study, he discovered 
 that the most important portions of them were as 
 follows: 
 
 "Enid Nest Wynn Vivian, aged nineteen in 190 . Single; 
 born in France; the child of wealthy parents. The father Welsh; 
 the mother Belgian. Traces of religious excitability in father's 
 family. Want of moral balance in father's character. Caught 
 cheating at cards, though in no pecuniary difficulties. Left his 
 own country in consequence. Maternal grandmother attached 
 
 to court of King of . Beautiful; very devout; 
 
 reputed to be King's mistress. Mother divorced from first 
 husband. Accomplished, open-handed, sceptical in matters of 
 religion. 
 
 " Enid was, from the first, a mischievous though a clever child. 
 To all appearance her health was perfect. She was always 
 alarming her attendants by making her escape from the nursery. 
 On two occasions (aged four) found her way into the streets. 
 Discovered on first occasion playing with three strange boys; 
 on the second had been taken to police-station. Discovered 
 sitting on table talking and laughing with inspector. Her 
 nurses. Catholics, complained of her disinclination to say her 
 prayers, or of her irreverent manner of saying them. She was 
 constantly reproved for her use of slang and profane expressions, 
 her delight in these being increased by the perception that they 
 shocked her elders. 
 
 " At the age of six she caught a severe chill and was laid up 
 for a week, bearing her illness with very great impatience. This 
 was succeeded by a long period of somnolence. After the dis- 
 appearance of this symptom it was noticed by both nurses that 
 her disposition had undergone some change. She was quiet, gen- 
 tle, talked no slang, said her prayers with remarkable diligence 
 and devotion, and asked many questions about religion. 
 
 "This change persisted for twenty-one days, after which she 
 was frightened by the falling of a china jar. The fright was suc- 
 ceeded by a violent throbbing of the temples, and this by a deep 
 
 393
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 sleep, which was evidently hypnoleptic in character. When she 
 woke it was observed that her disposition had reverted to that 
 which it had been three weeks ago in other words, the dispo- 
 sition which she had manifested from the cradle. 
 
 "Except for this interval of three weeks, the development of 
 her character was continuous up to the age of ten. At the age 
 of seven she was sent as a day pupil to the convent at Cimiez. 
 She spent much of her leisure time with three boys, the sons of 
 an English gentleman, occupant of a neighboring villa, romping 
 with them and getting into all kinds of trouble. At the convent 
 she was precocious in her studies, but was constantly in disgrace 
 for laughing at the sisters, at the books supplied for study, and 
 at the character of the instruction generally. 
 
 "At the age of ten fell when climbing an olive-tree, and was 
 carried home insensible. Remained so for twenty hours, and 
 woke up with no memory of her past life except the three weeks 
 preceding the fall of the china jar, which she seemed to imagine 
 had only just taken place. Her first question was : ' What has 
 happened to the bits ?' Her disposition, too, was similar to what 
 it had been during the weeks in question. She was gentle and 
 religious, said her prayers devoutly, and often accompanied a 
 lady, an acquaintance of her parents, to the English church. 
 She exhibited, moreover, a strong taste for poetry, and was very 
 fastidious as to her dress, rejecting with contempt the clothes 
 previously worn by her. In this idiosyncrasy her mother was 
 delighted to indulge her, allowing her to buy hats, boots, gloves, 
 stockings, and lingerie as she pleased. As to her general health, 
 she was not so robust as formerly, and for two years was taken 
 care of by an English clergyman's widow, who lived alternately 
 at Mentone and a small village near Geneva. During this period 
 she called herself by her second name, Nest, having always been 
 known previously by her other and her first name, Enid. 
 
 "At the end of this period she, being then just twelve, was 
 thrown from a donkey between Mentone and St. Agnese, was 
 much shaken, and experienced a kind of paroxysm at the sight 
 of her injured clothes and especially her disfigured hands. An 
 illness of three days followed, ending in hypnoleptic torpor. On 
 the fourth day woke up with character and memories of Enid, 
 and unable to account for the situation in which she found her- 
 self. 
 
 " An Anglo- Jewish stock-broker, with a wife superior to him- 
 self, took her with them to Cairo, to a lodge in Scotland, and 
 to a hunting-box in the English midlands. During this period, 
 at her parents' desire, she drops the name of Vivian and is 
 known as Enid Wynn. Her present protectors not perhaps 
 
 394
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 the best judges report nothing objectionable in her conduct. 
 In the winter of 19 , at the age of eighteen years and two 
 months, she has an attack of influenza, induced by a chill caught 
 in the hunting-field. This lasts ten days. She then quits her 
 bed and is taken out-of-doors. A relapse ensues, resulting from 
 a fresh chill. A few days later complains of violent headache; 
 light pains her ; she is kept in a dark room ; exhibits fear of every 
 one; mistakes people for snakes. Gradually these symptoms 
 disappear; she becomes so weak that she can scarcely swallow, 
 and sinks finally into a sort of trance-like collapse supposed, at 
 first, to be death. 
 
 " On emerging from this state, though her weakness somewhat 
 disguised the fact, she exhibited a change of manner which her 
 friends and attendants thought curious. An account of her was 
 sent to her parents, and to myself also, and we at once divined 
 what must have already happened or be impending. Arrange- 
 ments were promptly made for her transference to the care of 
 an aunt who resides in the southwest of England, a considerable 
 payment being made by the parents on her account, with a 
 view to her remaining under the aunt's care permanently. I 
 went myself to England to superintend her removal. She was 
 brought to the house of my friend Dr. Maddison, in Harley 
 Street, still in a state of very imperfect consciousness. There, 
 after a few hours of profound torpor, she awoke, to all appear- 
 ance well, but she awoke in the character of Nest; and when she 
 was told that she was being taken to her relations in England, 
 in order to regain her strength, she imagined herself to be just 
 recovering from the effects of the thunder-storm at Mentone, 
 more than two years ago, the storm and her own terror being the 
 last things she remembered. 
 
 " I took her to Southquay, and she has been under my obser- 
 vation since. Her nervous condition is still highly unstable, 
 but a healthy life, not too dull, yet wanting in occasions of agita- 
 tion, may lead to restoration of health and possible permanence 
 of present condition." 
 
 It was midnight before Mr. Barton had finished ex- 
 tracting these salient passages, and writing out, as he 
 did, a careful and literal translation of them. He was, 
 when he had finished, too tired to reread them or con- 
 sider their general significance before he succumbed to 
 sleep, nor did his mind in the night pay any conscious 
 attention to them; but when he came down the next 
 morning to his early toast and coffee, and drew his docu- 
 *6 395
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 ments forth from the drawer in which he had placed 
 them, he realized, before he had time to reread a single 
 sentence, that they were fraught with a meaning to 
 which overnight he had been blind. He had gone to 
 sleep still drawing comfort from the thought of his 
 loved one in her earliest childhood, when her soul, her 
 true self, had been free from all strange vicissitudes, and 
 of the beautiful years which gave earnest of others which 
 were yet to be. He now realized in a flash that, if Dr. 
 Gonteau's records meant anything, all thoughts such as 
 these were founded on the most vain of dreams, and 
 their place was taken by others whose import was pre- 
 cisely opposite. If the child as born into the world, the 
 little child as baptized, is the true soul, the true, indivisi- 
 ble self, and if any other self supervening is not a true 
 self at all, then the true self in this case was not the Miss 
 Vivian whom he loved, but the portent that had been 
 called her sister. Enid Wynn Vivian so the pitiless 
 record assured him had, till she was ten years old, 
 been recognized by all who knew her, her religious 
 teachers included, as a perfectly healthy and excep- 
 tionally clever child. What was the difference between 
 her and any other of those unhappy children who, from 
 childhood onward, prefer evil to good ? Of all the facul- 
 ties possessed by the God-created human soul, none at- 
 tested more clearly that soul's divine origin than con- 
 science the mystical faculty by which good and evil are 
 distinguished; and the presence of this faculty in Enid 
 Wynn was conspicuous ; for ill-doing, even in the nursery, 
 had afforded her an impish pleasure. Unless it could be 
 maintained that all sinners were phantoms and if this 
 were so, why should Christ have died for them? the 
 soul of Enid was as real as the soul of the greatest saint. 
 And on this consideration there followed the stupendous 
 question if his own one, his beloved one, were not a 
 true soul, what was she ? Was she merely an iridescence, 
 a phosphorescence, on the quagmire of organic matter? 
 Here the passion of the lover expanded itself into that 
 
 396
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 of the believer and the theologian. " If such is the case, " 
 he cried out to himself, "with one soul, is it not the 
 case with all? What, then, shall become of us? Is not 
 our whole faith vain?" Both these passions were tor- 
 menting him when the morning's post arrived, bringing 
 him a letter from Lady Susannah Lipscombe. It helped 
 to separate them, and it also inflamed each. She wrote: 
 
 "DEAR MR. BARTON, I was so sorry to see, the other night 
 at Lord Cotswold's little party, that you were still suffering. I 
 could see it now and then quite clearly from your face; and now 
 my maid has heard from one of your servants that you had been 
 ' dreadful bad,' as she called it, with a sort of neuralgic headache. 
 I hope it's quite gone by this time; but if it is not, will you 
 let me send you a stick of something I have which is made up 
 with peppermint, and if you rub it on your temples it will take 
 the pain away. 
 
 "And now, Mr. Barton, I want to say something else, too; 
 and if I ask you a searching question you must not think that 
 I do so out of any prying curiosity. Since your return from 
 Nice, though you brought with you her parents' approval, you 
 have said nothing more to me about Nest I mean about your 
 hopes and intentions. Has there been any misunderstanding? 
 Nest has been just as silent about the subject as you have. I 
 thought at Lord Cotswold's party that your behavior to her was 
 rather odd. I ask you this because Nest herself seems suffering. 
 I noticed this at the party first, and since then she has become, 
 not physically ill, but pensive. I went yesterday to see her 
 about something in her sitting-room, and I found her poring 
 over that beautiful book you gave her, with pictures of the 
 visions of the saints in it. She was looking at them I hardly 
 know how to put it well, as a girl might look who was looking 
 at a picture of her fiance, and I have my suspicions that she was 
 in your church before breakfast, I don't know for how long, 
 without having eaten anything. You remember our old anxiety 
 about her on this score. I won't ask you for any secrets, but if 
 there's some trouble which you know about, cannot you make 
 things straight one way or the other ? When are you coming to 
 see her again about confirmation ? Or do you think But no 
 I won't say more till I hear from you." 
 
 Confirmation ! The word was like a blow, driving into 
 his flesh a thorn whose point had been already fixed in 
 
 397
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 it. Miss Vivian's confirmation was a fact accomplished 
 long ago. How could he prepare her for a sacrament 
 which could never be received again ? Or, rather, had 
 she received it ? Was the child who had been confirmed 
 she? How could Christ be Belial? How could she 
 be identical with the adolescent Enid Wynn? He felt, 
 as he asked these questions, that his forehead was grow- 
 ing wet and cold. She herself his dearest who so 
 desired this holy rite, was now, in the disappointment 
 arising from a misadventure of her young fancy, seeking 
 consolation among the saints, and in good time she would 
 learn, aided by his own care, that love had meanings of 
 which as yet she had hardly dreamed. He could see her 
 turning the leaves of that book the Visions of the Saints 
 his own gift to her with those delicate hands But 
 his imagination here recoiled. He struck his forehead 
 sharply, as though to dispel the image. He had seen 
 that one wrist was branded with the beginnings of a red 
 scar. Yielding to his volition, the detested detail dis- 
 appeared. She was dearer to him now than ever, but he 
 dared not yet intrude on her. He must, for a few days, 
 leave her to learn her new lesson in secret. He must 
 also, meanwhile, learn new lessons himself. He must 
 learn to endure the recurrence of thoughts which at pres- 
 ent scalded him. He must make himself master of dif- 
 ficulties which still he could not deny this escaped 
 his grip and reformed themselves, like the coils of some 
 endless serpent. But Lady Susannah's letter must, in 
 any case, be dealt with now. His answer was brief. He 
 wrote : 
 
 " So far as I am concerned, no complication has arisen of a 
 kind to distress your niece. Things may have to be postponed. 
 I shall be the only sufferer. If anything which strikes you as 
 excessive church-going continues, will you let me know, but do 
 not check her unless it seems absolutely necessary. I am still 
 rather out of sorts, and one of the other curates will, for a day 
 or two, undertake my confirmation classes. As to her, a per- 
 plexing fact has just come to my knowledge. A communication 
 has reached me from Nice to the effect that she has been con- 
 
 398
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 firmed already. This, it appears, was in her childhood, but a 
 nervous attack, like that from which she has just recovered, has 
 erased the fact from her memory, and her parents Heaven help 
 them never thought it worth their while to tell her. A little 
 later, when I have had more time to reflect, I will explain the 
 matter to her myself. You may trust me, I think, to do my 
 best for her." 
 
 The effort of writing brought him a moment's ease. 
 When the letter was finished and despatched the old 
 troubles began again, but once again their activity was 
 interrupted by an extraneous incident. A parcel was 
 brought to Mr. Barton which apparently contained books, 
 and the parcel was accompanied by a letter to the follow- 
 ing effect from Dr. Thistlewood: 
 
 " I shall be interested to hear your opinion when you have 
 read Dr. Gonteau's notes, but I beg you to be in no hurry. To- 
 day and to-morrow I am engaged, and in any case I think that 
 it would be better that, before we resume our conversation, you 
 should have ample time for thinking things over by yourself. 
 I am sending you three books. One is a modern treatise on 
 psychology, by Father M., a Roman Catholic priest; the two 
 others are monographs dealing with two well - known cases 
 similar to Miss Wynn Vivian's. I won't ask you to wade through 
 the whole each of the two monographs contains some five 
 hundred pages but I have made notes of the parts to which 1 
 wish to draw your attention. In Father M.'s book there is only 
 one. This one passage is, at all events, enough to show that he 
 recognizes the necessity of facing the problems which such cases 
 raise. Were I you, I should go away for a day or two. Rest 
 and a change of scene would, I am confident, do much to clear 
 your thoughts."
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 THE suggestion contained in Dr. Thistlewood's clos- 
 ing words Mr. Barton had made already more than 
 once to himself. He had longed, herein resembling many 
 other troubled men, to take himself far away and fight 
 his fight in the wilderness. If this were to be done at 
 all it might as well be done now. No actual wilderness 
 of the traditional kind was available no Bo-tree, no 
 Mount of God; but some twelve miles off was a watering- 
 place, at the present season always empty, whose in- 
 habitants and whose streets would be strange to him, 
 and where he could wander about the beach alone. 
 This would suit his purpose. He would start within 
 the next hour, and these books of Dr. Thistlewood's 
 they could go with him, and he would read them there. 
 
 Often as he had passed this quiet bathing-resort in the 
 train he had never before entered it, and now when a 
 station omnibus had set him down there at an Old- World 
 inn he could have fancied himself in a foreign town. 
 Here he spent two days, and here in the blank hours, 
 with nothing to interrupt him, he felt that by some 
 gradual and not very orderly process his confused 
 troubles were assuming some coherent order. He came 
 to realize, as he had not done at first, that these troubles 
 were of two distinct kinds. One related to his own pure- 
 ly personal affections, the other to his entire conception 
 of the nature of man and God, and the question of 
 whether all he held sacred were not merely some mon- 
 strous dream. 
 
 So far as he personally and his own affections were 
 concerned, his case, so he told himself, did not differ 
 
 400
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 essentially from what it might have been had he dis- 
 covered that the woman he loved was the daughter of 
 a murderess, or that she herself was liable to fits of 
 homicidal mania, or that she had been over-persuaded 
 by somebody to assist in an act of forgery. Facts such 
 as these might, it was quite conceivable, divide him for- 
 ever from her and from his own happiness ; but any mere 
 private affliction, however desolating its character, would 
 be bearable with the aid of prayer, and of resignation to 
 the Divine Will; and love, if thwarted here, might count 
 on attaining its fit reward hereafter. 
 
 But in his own case, behind and beyond his merely 
 personal difficulties were others which at once rose out 
 of and interpenetrated them, which threatened the very 
 foundations of the fortitude by which they might have 
 been borne otherwise, and which were not personal but 
 universal. Here were problems connected with the very 
 foundations of the Catholic faith, with the entire sacra- 
 mental system, with the redemption of man by Christ, 
 with that high philosophy of soul from which, as from 
 a solid rock, he had looked down hitherto at the turbid 
 foam of materialism. Here were problems connected 
 with the very nature of conscious existence, and the 
 significance of the human race. Miss Vivian's case could 
 not possibly stand alone, and if her soul were really a 
 vessel which could be broken into different parts, his 
 own soul and every soul was susceptible of disintegra- 
 tion likewise. It was bound to be disintegrated by 
 death. The supreme thinkers of the past, no less than 
 the saints, were wrong, and an urchin like Hugo Arundel 
 was nearer to the truth than they. All the universe 
 collapsed in a heap of ruins. 
 
 By an effort of the will he freed himself from the 
 thought of his private sorrows, and fixed his mind on 
 these fundamental, these all-comprehending, questions. 
 He turned them over and over as he wandered in be- 
 wildered misery along the mile of silent esplanade 
 which ran between a common and the sea. He wan- 
 
 401
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 dered to and fro, moving rapidly now, now slowly, till 
 his pale, abstracted face and striking figure became a 
 familiar perplexity to the few loiterers, whose presence, 
 like his own, accentuated rather than broke the solitude. 
 At last, yielding to mere physical weariness, he seated 
 himself in one of those wooden shelters which were 
 frequent here, as they are at other sea-side resorts. 
 When he entered it the little structure was vacant ; nor 
 was he aware that two nurses, whose charges were dig- 
 ging on the sands, had settled themselves shortly after- 
 ward in the corner opposite his own, and looked at each 
 other as some murmured words from time to time es- 
 caped him. At last he was himself startled by the sound 
 of his own voice. "My God," he heard himself ejacu- 
 lating, "my God, why hast thou forsaken me?" To 
 the women his words were audible only as a more em- 
 phatic murmur, but he, fearing that he had exposed 
 himself, rose and went away. To escape the chance of 
 recognition he left the neighborhood of the shore, and 
 betook himself to an inland road lined with scattered 
 houses and leading he knew not where; and by-and-by, 
 recessed between two small villas, he came on a build- 
 ing which he recognized as a Roman Catholic church. 
 He turned and entered; and this home of another com- 
 munion, though that communion was, according to his 
 theories, schismatical, provided him with a subtle com- 
 fort which he might not have found so readily under 
 the arches of his own chancel. It filled him with a 
 sense of the majesty of the holy Church universal of 
 the saints, the martyrs, the confessors, the scholars, the 
 great philosophers, and all those whose broken hearts 
 hold the spikenard of divine contrition. It was a sense 
 of those countless myriads who, whether great or hum- 
 ble, have, age after age, and in all countries of the world, 
 borne witness by their lives and deaths to the faith by 
 which he lived himself. He did not fight alone. All 
 these were with him; and he felt that under him was the 
 support of the everlasting arms. 
 
 402
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 He emerged from the building strengthened but not 
 cured of his troubles. Like sea-sick passengers on a 
 ship, who, convinced though they may be that they will 
 not lose their lives, continue, none the less, to suffer the 
 throes of death, he experienced doubt as a torment, 
 though he did not experience it as a danger, and it still 
 made him sick and dizzy with its recurring and subsid- 
 ing spasms. Strengthened, however, he was, and that 
 such must be indeed the case he realized by his own 
 actions. Instead of returning to the company of his 
 own thoughts he went to his hotel, unpacked Dr. This- 
 tlewood's books, and resolved, by a study of those parts 
 of them which Dr. Thistlewood had commended to his 
 notice, to face the facts of the situation in their most 
 specific and most formidable form. 
 
 In each volume Dr. Thistlewood had placed a slip on 
 which, together with the numbers of certain pages, was 
 a note relating to the scope of the volume's contents. 
 
 Of Father M.'s psychological treatise, what he had 
 written was this: 
 
 "The author argues throughout from your own theological 
 and philosophical stand-point. He assumes that the soul is 
 separate from its bodily mechanism, and uses his knowledge of 
 what the details of this mechanism are for the purpose of ex- 
 pressing this separateness in modern scientific language. You 
 will find nothing that was not implied in your sermon, with the 
 exception of his reference to the case of the woman Felida. 
 Felida's is one of the classical cases of what are called divided 
 lives. He takes the records of it, and seeks to show from these 
 that the so-called separate lives were not divided in reality." 
 
 Of a second volume, what he had written was this: 
 
 " Here is an account, given in minutest detail, of a young 
 woman, Miss B., who developed in the course of her life four 
 characters at least, each of which had its own separate memories 
 and had no knowledge of the existence of the three others. One 
 of these characters persisted for eight years. What will mainly 
 interest you here are the pages mentioned below, which will 
 show you with what singular exactness some of the incidents 
 
 403
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 of Miss B.'s divided lives resemble details known to you in con- 
 nection with Miss Wynn Vivian. See especially the scene in 
 which she mistakes her doctor for a former lover; also the 
 tabulated accounts of her different tastes and feelings with re- 
 gard to dress, books, amusements, prayer, religion, etc., as ex- 
 hibited by her in two of her contrasted and mutually hostile 
 phases." 
 
 Dr. Thistlewood's note as to the third volume was of 
 a similarly explanatory kind: 
 
 "This is an account of Mr, Hanna, an accomplished American 
 clergyman. Mr. Hanna one day fell on his head out of a pony- 
 cart, and was put to bed unconscious. When he woke again to 
 consciousness his entire past life was gone from him, and a new 
 life and character had to be built up from the beginning. He 
 had no religious feelings. He was taken to his own church. It 
 woke in him no memories. He was to have been married. Of 
 this fact he knew nothing, and fixed his affections presently on 
 a new object. Formerly a teetotaller and an enemy of all frivo- 
 lous amusements, he now drank beer in music-halls and devel- 
 oped a lively delight in the antics of half-nude dancers. See 
 undermentioned pages. Note specially the manner in which 
 the second character constructed itself." 
 
 Mr. Barton took the books with him to a lonely part of 
 the beach, determined to tear out the heart of them 
 under Dr. Thistlewood's guidance. He not unnaturally 
 began with the treatise of the Roman priest. He agreed 
 with Dr. Thistlewood that it would be needless for him 
 to read the whole of it, he could see at a glance that 
 its reasoning was so absolutely parallel to his own. He 
 accordingly went at once to the passage which dealt 
 with Felida. When he had read it he laid down the 
 book delighted. It was as he had known it would be. 
 To refute the arguments of the materialists, one need 
 but examine carefully the facts on which they profess to 
 found them. It was no doubt true such was Father 
 M.'s admission that Felida's life did go through certain 
 phases, each of which might, by a superficial observer, 
 be taken for a separate life independent of all the rest. 
 
 404
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 This was the conclusion at which the doctors who at- 
 tended and observed her leaped. But what did we 
 learn from the records of these very men themselves? 
 We learn, Father M. proceeded, that, though certain cir- 
 cumstantial memories were peculiar to each phase, and 
 were not possessed by her in the others, yet all these 
 phases alike had a stock of memories in common 
 memories of a general kind, like a stem from which they 
 all grew. Such were the woman's memories of the 
 French language and the multiplication table, and a 
 host of others, which she had obviously possessed in 
 every phase alike. Here was a fact which the material- 
 ists at once admitted and overlooked, and the moment 
 its significance was grasped it was fatal to their whole 
 position. Such cases as Felida's might be interesting 
 in many secondary ways, but they did nothing such 
 was Father M.'s conclusion to cast any doubt whatever 
 on the unity of the human soul. 
 
 This brilliant piece of criticism, though it did not solve 
 all his difficulties, encouraged Mr. Barton in the convic- 
 tion that they were all ultimately soluble, and he turned 
 to the two long monographs on the cases of Miss B. and 
 Mr. Hanna, feeling that to study them would be now 
 almost superfluous. He did, indeed, cast his eye over 
 the passages which Dr. Thistlewood had commended to 
 him, and now and then sighed when he realized the 
 startling likeness between many of the incidents recorded 
 in connection with Miss B., and others no less staggering, 
 with which he was but too familiar; but nowhere in the 
 passages which Dr. Thistlewood thought so important 
 did he catch the suggestion of anything like a new idea. 
 In both these volumes, however, he succeeded in discov- 
 ering something which Dr. Thistlewood had either over- 
 looked or had certainly forborne to mention. This was 
 the fact that the historians of Miss B.'s case, and of Mr. 
 Hanna's, exhibited as to one point a most striking and 
 unlikely agreement. In defiance of their own theories, 
 they alike systematically assumed that the subjects of 
 
 405
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 their respective studies, however their lives might be 
 disintegrated, had each a true self somewhere, if only it 
 could be found and fixed. In each volume, let him open 
 its pages where he would, he came upon such phrases as 
 the "true" or the "real Mr. Hanna," the "true" or the 
 "real Miss B. "; and, so far as his hasty reading would 
 enable him to form a judgment, the doctors in each case 
 declared that they had at last succeeded in restoring 
 this self to its natural and full integrity. This significant 
 fact dawned on him that same evening in his bedroom, 
 where he continued, by a flaring gas-jet, the studies which 
 he had begun on the sands, and which had there been 
 interrupted by the chill and the shades of twilight. At 
 once his mind sprang into new activity. A host of 
 theories, competing for his final selection, formed them- 
 selves, by means of which faith and hope might recover 
 their intellectual basis, and in view of which Dr. Thistle- 
 wood himself, when he heard them, would be obliged to 
 reconsider his position, and then unwillingly to surrender 
 it. The defeat, indeed, of Dr. Thistlewood in fair and 
 open argument would be, Mr. Barton felt, the best as- 
 surance for himself of his victory over his own per- 
 plexities, and he made arrangements, before going to 
 bed, for returning to Southquay by the earliest train 
 next morning. 
 
 It was not yet eight o'clock when he entered his own 
 door again. His first care was to ask whether any let- 
 ters had come for him. There might be one from Miss 
 Vivian such was his secret thought. But there was 
 not. He saw on his desk a single envelope only, ad- 
 dressed in a hand unknown to him the hand evidently 
 of a clerk. He turned away from it with a sigh, and 
 while his customary coffee was preparing he stole into 
 his own church. The whole atmosphere of this edifice 
 was poignant with memories of Miss Vivian and of the 
 prayers and of that memorable sermon which had been 
 filled and fired with his love for her. The thought of 
 her was mixing itself with his prayers in the shadowy 
 
 406
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 chancel now, when suddenly in the background of his 
 consciousness stirred the image of Miss Enid Wynn. 
 Pain, acute though not hopeless, was once more gnaw- 
 ing at his heart; and feeling, when he rose from his 
 knees, that his troubles were not ended yet, he stole on 
 tiptoe down one of the side aisles, as though fearful of 
 observation, toward a small door of exit. All at once 
 he became aware of the presence of one kneeling figure. 
 It was not far away. With a rapid movement he drew 
 back behind a neighboring pillar, and, hiding himself 
 as completely as possible, he ventured to look again. 
 His first impression had been correct. The kneeling 
 figure was Miss Vivian herself. There was little chance 
 of her observing him unless some sound disturbed her. 
 Her eyes, which for him had now a more than earthly 
 beauty, saw, if they saw anything external, the chancel 
 and the altar only, and her thoughts were far away. A 
 passionate longing filled Mr. Barton's heart to kneel 
 down at her side and bury every hateful difficulty in a 
 union of his prayers with hers. But a trembling rever- 
 ence, united with the dictates of common - sense, re- 
 strained him, and only his unspoken words, unheard by 
 herself , went out to her. "How could I doubt? How 
 could my faith fail me ? However your earthly vest- 
 ure may at times disguise and hide you, I have seen 
 the self, the soul in you, which nothing can take 
 away." 
 
 Unnoticed, and moving noiselessly, he gained the door 
 and departed, taking care not to disturb her by so much 
 as the clinking of a latch. 
 
 When he re-entered his library, where his coffee-pot 
 was now glistening, he perceived an object which had 
 not been there before. During his absence in the church 
 another letter had arrived for him. It was lying by the 
 one which he had hardly cared to notice. At the sight 
 of it his heart palpitated. It was a letter from Miss 
 Vivian herself. He tore it open, and devoured the fol- 
 lowing words : 
 
 407
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 " DEAR MR. BARTON, I have had no real conversation with 
 you since the day when you came to see me, and when you had 
 to go away almost directly because you felt so fll. I don't 
 count that time at Lord Cotswold's. Nothing like real talking 
 was possible then, of course, and everybody was rather foolish 
 and everything was at cross-purposes. I want to tell you that, 
 since then, I have been growing to understand many things 
 things about which you, and you only, of all men, have ever 
 spoken to me, and I think that before long I may have to come 
 and consult you yes, and tell you everything, as I could do to 
 no one else. But let me wait till I am quite certain of my own 
 inmost self or at least as certain as I can be without consult- 
 ing you. When that time comes I will write to you, and we will 
 arrange a meeting, and if we should meet before then please not 
 to speak about this. I want to say nothing until I feel that I am 
 quite ready with you. In matters like these you are my best 
 you are indeed my only friend. Yours, N. V." 
 
 " P.S. Since we met that night at Lord Cotswold's, when 
 we neither of us, I think, were very well, I have had nothing in 
 the way of health to trouble me but tiresome dreams, which 
 leave one rather unrefreshed in the morning. But I get up early, 
 and am refreshed in other ways. I hope your headache is gone." 
 
 Mr. Barton, on reading this letter, experienced the un- 
 fathomable relief which the sea-sick passenger experi- 
 ences when his ship is at last in harbor. Then relief was 
 transfigured and took the form of rapture. The heav- 
 ens were opened and poured benediction down on him. 
 He sank on his knees to receive the divine influx. He 
 hid himself from the common daylight in the darkness 
 of his clasped hands, and there in the darkness God and 
 the human soul he loved seemed to have drawn so close 
 to him that he knew not which was closest. 
 
 Presently, as a means of regaining his contact with 
 common life, and assuring himself that he was not dream- 
 ing, he took up the letter which he had thus far neglected. 
 The envelope bore the post-mark of Belfast, his native 
 place. Except for an uncle, a banker, he had had, 
 since his father's death, no correspondent in the town; 
 the uncle wrote but rarely, and the size and look of the 
 envelope, no less than the direction, showed that this 
 
 408
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 missive could hardly have come from him. Mr. Barton 
 broke the seal and extracted a quarto sheet. It was 
 headed by the name of a firm quite strange to his mem- 
 ory; nor did he even realize what was the nature of its 
 business till he had read the communication through. 
 When he had done this he found himself in possession 
 of the fact that his uncle had died intestate a few days 
 ago, that his fortune amounted to something like four 
 hundred thousand pounds, that the heir of this was his 
 sole surviving relative, and that his sole surviving rela- 
 tive was the Reverend T. Barton, his nephew. 
 
 Mr. Barton's indifference to money as a means of 
 self-indulgence was absolute. Except as a power which 
 enabled him to serve the Church, he had hardly been 
 conscious of possessing it till the prospect of marriage 
 dawned on him. Then his comparative affluence had 
 acquired a further meaning for him, since it enabled him 
 to offer a home to a delicately nurtured wife; but, apart 
 from the confidence which it gave him in the character 
 of a suitor, the idea of personal affluence formed no 
 part of his consciousness. This condition of mind, how- 
 ever, had for the moment, at all events, ceased to be any 
 longer possible. Affluence had suddenly assumed the 
 undreamed-of form of wealth, and a sense that his whole 
 position had somehow been greatly changed was forced 
 on him no less sharply than it would have been if, in- 
 stead of a fortune, what had come to him had been a 
 pair of wings. Even now he could have said, with ab- 
 solute truth, that of worldly pomps and vanities no 
 single image had arisen to play any part in his agitation ; 
 but, nevertheless, the heir to very nearly half a million 
 was vaguely aware of a strength which had not been his 
 before. But a strength of what kind, and available for 
 what purpose? In accordance with its ruling passions, 
 his nature soon gave an answer. Allying itself with the 
 new hopes produced by Miss Vivian's letter, and also by 
 his recent sight of her, this sense of strength, which was 
 suggested to him by the possession of a great income, 
 
 409
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 lost its primary form before a few minutes were over, 
 and, transmuted by a process which was human if not 
 logical, reappeared as an augmented confidence in that 
 whole intellectual position which he now was impatient 
 to vindicate in a pitched battle with Dr. Thistlewood. 
 Materialism no longer daunted him. He defied it with 
 a renewed contempt. 
 
 In this mood he proceeded to write two letters. Any 
 one who had watched him with eyes sufficiently keen 
 might have detected in his attitude at his writing-table, 
 and in the manner in which he held his pen, an air of 
 mastery which had not been his before. One of his 
 letters was to Miss Vivian a letter tenderly reticent, 
 in which he contented himself with saying that he would 
 obey her wishes in everything. The other was to Dr. 
 Thistlewood, and was couched in the following terms: 
 
 " DEAR DR. THISTLEWOOD, I have acted on your advice, and 
 for two days I have been away. I thank you for your books 
 and for Dr. Gonteau's notes, all of which I have read. I am 
 sending them back by bearer; and if you will be in this morning 
 I should derive much satisfaction from rediscussing the whole 
 matter with you. The bearer will wait for answer. Yours, 
 
 "THEOPHILUS BARTON." 
 
 Mr. Barton, who was rarely at a loss for messengers, 
 found no difficulty in despatching these letters simul- 
 taneously. Dr. Thistlewood's answer reached him with- 
 out delay. It said: 
 
 " By all means come. I will expect you by twelve o'clock."
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 MV dear Mr. Barton," said Dr. Thistlewood, when 
 his visitor entered, "I know that all this which 
 you forced me to reveal must have been a shock to you, 
 but allow me to congratulate you on the fortitude with 
 which, as I can see, you are bearing it. You have read 
 the notes and the books, you say. I shall be interested 
 to learn in what light you regard the situation now.'* 
 
 Mr. Barton had, when Dr. Thistlewood saw him last, 
 been a man cowed and broken, trying vainly to hide 
 from himself the spectacle of his own dismay. Now his 
 manner, though not free from anxiety, had in it some- 
 thing incisive, self-assured, and challenging. 
 
 "It would be idle to pretend," he said, with a magis- 
 terial coldness, "that in respect of its personal bearings 
 Miss Vivian's case gives me less pain than you thought 
 it would. It probably gives me more. So far, Dr. 
 Thistlewood, I do not think I shall have disappointed 
 you. This fact I admit, but I haven't come here to 
 dwell on it. What I want to discuss with you is not 
 Miss Vivian's case individually, but the class of case of 
 which it forms an example. I believe I shall be able to 
 show you, from the facts which you have yourself sub- 
 mitted to me, that, though there is much in them which 
 may surprise any of us, there is nothing which need dis- 
 turb a Christian. The inferences, in short, which you 
 and your friends draw from them seem to me, if you 
 will pardon me for saying so, a huge intellectual mare's 
 nest." 
 
 Dr. Thistlewood looked at him with an odd but a not 
 unkindly smile. "Well," he said, "pray go on. Let 
 27 411
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 me hear the whole of your criticisms. When you have 
 finished I will reply, if any reply is possible. Perhaps 
 it won't be." 
 
 Mr. Barton pressed the finger-tips of his two hands 
 together, and began to speak in a measured tone of 
 authority. 
 
 "It would be arrogance on my part," he said, slightly 
 raising his eyebrows, "to attempt a complete discussion 
 of complicated physical happenings. I shall confine 
 myself to broad facts, as to which the common-sense of 
 one man is, I submit, as good as that of another. You 
 shall have my points in order. There are three of them. 
 In the first place, then," he proceeded, "you have your- 
 self insisted, for my benefit, on the curious forms of hallu- 
 cination produced by very ordinary fevers. Further, 
 we are all familiar with the fact of madness and idiocy. 
 The Church has been familiar with both these kinds of 
 phenomena for nineteen hundred years. But the faith 
 of the Church has not been thereby affected. I should 
 be much surprised to find that you or your friends, if 
 you were put to it, could draw any essential distinc- 
 tion between these changes, so-called, of personality and 
 those mental disorders of which any day in the week 
 you can find any number of examples in any one of our 
 county asylums. You nod. I suppose that, in part 
 at least, you agree with me. Now for my second point. 
 And here I must thank you for your candor, for you 
 yourself, in giving me Father M.'s book, drew my at- 
 tention to the facts I am about to mention. Felida, I 
 gather, is one of the classical examples on which you and 
 your friends rely, when you try to explain away the 
 oneness of the human soul. You know, I assume, since 
 the passage was among those marked by you, what 
 Father M. says about this. Father M. conclusively 
 shows from the very facts which his opponents give him 
 that in Felida's case the so-called separation of lives was 
 a pure invention on the part of those by whom the case 
 was recorded. These men," said Mr. Barton, snapping 
 
 412
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 his fingers, "were in such a hurry to grind their own 
 materialistic axe that they had no time to see what was 
 under their own eyes. Felida's fundamental memories, 
 and the whole substratum of her personality, were as 
 undisturbed and undivided as are yours and mine this 
 morning. Well, you nod again. It seems that we are 
 getting on. I suppose that you follow me thus far." 
 
 "Perfectly," said Dr. Thistlewood "perfectly. I am 
 waiting to hear more." 
 
 "The point," said Mr. Barton, "to which I am coming 
 now I won't call it more conclusive than those I have 
 just touched upon, but it's conclusive how shall I put 
 it? conclusive in a wider and more practical way. In 
 those two elaborate monographs on the cases of Mr. 
 Hanna and Miss B. I discovered yes, in both of them 
 one curious feature which, since you did not mention it 
 to me, must have escaped your own attention. For me 
 it was far more significant than anything in those pas- 
 sages to which you advised me to confine myself. In 
 both these books, with their endless weary pages which 
 chronicle minute differences between one so-called self 
 and another, I find constant references made by the 
 respective doctor-authors to the "real or true Mr. 
 Hanna" and the "real or true Miss B.," and in each 
 case the doctor's aim was to find this self and to fix it. 
 So even these men, it seems, the moment they forget 
 their theories, come back to the view which the hum- 
 blest Christian holds in common with those who have 
 hitherto been regarded as the profoundest thinkers. It 
 therefore appears to me that, in spite of all your science, 
 the Church is not so helpless as some of her opponents 
 fancy." 
 
 "I am not quite certain," said Dr. Thistlewood, when 
 Mr. Barton came to a conclusion, "as to what is your 
 immediate object in urging your present arguments. If 
 you want, as a philosopher, to start a general discussion 
 of the relation of certain facts to your own philosophy 
 as a Christian, or to the future fate of Christian philoso-
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 phy as a whole, I shall be delighted to meet you as soon as 
 we can find the time which a task like this will require 
 of us. But if, as I gather, your object is more precise 
 if your wish is to provide yourself with some conclusions 
 which will justify the continuance of your intentions in 
 connection with Miss Wynn Vivian, I don't mind saying 
 something at once about these isolated arguments as 
 you give them to me. Only, before I do this, let me once 
 more put the plain question to you? Do you, in the 
 face of all that you have lately learned, persist in your 
 desire to make this young lady your wife?" 
 
 "I most certainly do," said Mr. Barton. "I am also 
 aware that I have no claim on your valuable time other 
 than that which some wish to interfere with such a mar- 
 riage gives me. For this reason I accept your question 
 as a legitimate one. Well, Dr. Thistlewood, you may 
 rest assured of this: that my intentions in the matter 
 in question are utterly undisturbed by anything you 
 have been able to tell me, and were never more resolute 
 than they are at the present moment." 
 
 "In that case, then," said Dr. Thistlewood, "I will 
 do the best I can for you. One of your arguments, at 
 all events, I can accept as having some truth in it. I 
 mean that which relates to the fact that the doctors 
 from whom you have just quoted have committed them- 
 selves to the theory of some one self in their subjects 
 which was more real than their other selves. This self 
 they have sought to identify by various tests such as 
 its superior stability, the physical well-being associated 
 with it, or its power of absorbing the memories of the 
 other selves, its competitors. Thus, in the case of Mr. 
 Hanna, the two selves were ultimately fused, and if he 
 is still alive they may remain so to the present day. 
 Now if you like to consult me about this practical aspect 
 of the question, and the chances that what was done 
 for Mr. Hanna may be done for Miss Vivian likewise, I 
 will admit at once that you are on the track of possibili- 
 ties, and it will do you good to realize what the nature 
 
 414
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 of these possibilities is. But as to your other argu- 
 ments, I would sooner not pull them to pieces, but leave 
 you to draw from them what satisfaction you can." 
 
 "I, on the contrary," said Mr. Barton, "should be 
 very much more satisfied by learning here and now what 
 you can urge against them." 
 
 Mr. Barton, as he spoke, had almost closed his eyes, 
 while his lips were compressed into a thin, sarcastic 
 smile. Dr. Thistlewood's temper was, as a rule, imper- 
 turbable, but Mr. Barton's expression provoked him 
 into giving an answer more to the point than he would 
 have given willingly otherwise. 
 
 "Well," he said, "since you will have it so, let me 
 take your arguments as you stated them. It will not 
 take me long. You began by urging that these divided 
 lives, or selves, are nothing more than a peculiar form of 
 madness. Have you taken the trouble to ask yourself 
 what madness means ? What we all of us mean by mad- 
 ness, as opposed to sanity, is a state in which reason, to 
 a greater or less extent, loses its grasp of facts, and of the 
 actual relations that subsist between the individual and 
 the surrounding world. But in the cases with which we 
 are now dealing such symptoms are entirely absent. If 
 Danton, Voiron, Fourrier, Louise Desmoulins were sane 
 when they were in a state of grace and they most un- 
 doubtedly were so they were no less sane in their 
 states of vice and crime. Louise, as a woman of the 
 streets, was mentally far superior to Sister Martha of 
 the Five Wounds. Miss Wynn is in all ways as sane, 
 and, in some, more acute than Miss Vivian. So much 
 for madness. And now, Mr. Barton, for the famous case 
 of Felida, and those facts those undoubted facts on 
 which you and Father M. build. These cases of divided 
 lives differ in their details from one another, just as cases 
 do of an injured leg or arm. Sometimes the limb is dis- 
 located or almost severed from the trunk. At other 
 times we have merely a simple fracture. Divided lives 
 exhibit the same variety. In Felida's case it is quite 
 
 4i5
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 true, as you say, that the different selves had a stock 
 of acquirements in common. It was not necessary for 
 each of them to teach itself to walk and read. But 
 if you turn to the case of Mr. Hanna, the records of 
 which had not been published when Father M. was con- 
 cocting his famous argument I'm afraid that you can't 
 have read very many of those pages which I marked for 
 you you will find that Mr. Hanna exhibited those pre- 
 cise conditions over the absence of which in Felida's 
 case Father M. rejoices. Mr. Hanna's conscious self had, 
 in its two phases, no common memories, no common 
 stock of acquirements. The mind of Mr. Hanna the 
 second began as an absolute blank. Like a baby, he 
 could not speak. Like a baby, he could not feed him- 
 self. What is still more remarkable, he had no idea of 
 space. He thought the bedclothes were part of his 
 own body. He only learned what self, as opposed to 
 the not-self, meant by discovering gradually where his 
 powers of movement ended, and when he had learned to 
 speak, and intellect had reconstructed itself, his chief 
 intellectual difficulty was understanding what was meant 
 by God." 
 
 Mr. Barton was silent for a few moments. His face, 
 as he listened, had betrayed an austere impatience. 
 "We look at these matters," he said, shrugging his 
 shoulders, "from such different points of view that dis- 
 cussion seems almost hopeless. A soul may lose its 
 memories as a balloon may lose its ballast. But the 
 balloon is a balloon still. It is not the sand that 
 soars." 
 
 "Then in that case," said Dr. Thistlewood, "what be- 
 comes of your argument? Just now you were urging, 
 in agreement with Father M., that Felida's so-called 
 many souls were shown to have been really one, because 
 some of the same sand was used as ballast by all of 
 them." 
 
 Mr. Barton bit his lip. "It's idle to talk," he said, 
 "if we are to canter off on a metaphor. I should also, 
 
 416
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 before I can discuss what you can say, require you to 
 give me details." 
 
 "Precisely," said Dr. Thistlewood. "That's what I 
 set out with telling you. I told you that these things 
 couldn't be discussed in a hurry. Had I time I should 
 ask you to consider, before we went any further, what, 
 in a moral sense, the idea of self means for you. I 
 should point out to you that self means for a Christian, 
 not the mere sense of an ego 'bombinans in vacuo.' It 
 means character a disposition of the heart. Otherwise 
 it means nothing. I should point out to you also that, 
 as M. Ribot very trenchantly says, the distinctive thing 
 which changes in these changes of personality is pre- 
 cisely this moral disposition, without which, from a 
 Christian point of view, a soul or a self is no more than 
 a soap-bubble. But I can't do this in five minutes. If 
 we must quarrel, let us quarrel at leisure. Meanwhile, 
 if your arguments still seem to you satisfactory, stick 
 to them. Let them give you comfort, and let us you 
 and me for the moment, instead of quarrelling, con- 
 fine ourselves to an aspect of the matter with regard to 
 which we are in some agreement. I mean the possibility 
 in the present case Miss Vivian's of so strengthening 
 and developing one of the two selves that it shall ab- 
 sorb, dispossess, or in any case permanently abolish the 
 other." 
 
 "Very well then," said Mr. Barton, not sorry to change 
 his ground, "for the moment we will waive theory and 
 just keep to this practical point. It is the point on 
 which, rather than on those quoted by yourself, I fixed 
 my attention when I looked through those books you 
 lent me. In the case of Mr. Hanna there was admitted- 
 ly a complete recovery. In the book about Miss B. I 
 noticed that there were two chapters, of which one had 
 for its title, 'The Search for Miss B.'s Real Self,' the 
 other, 'How the Real Miss B. was Found.'" 
 
 "I suppose," said Dr. Thistlewood, "you had not 
 time to examine into the means employed by the doc-
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 tors to bring about these results, such as hypnotism 
 sometimes induced with the aid of ether. You might 
 perhaps not approve of them. Of this we can talk 
 hereafter. You will be better pleased by learning that 
 reunification has been sometimes obtained spontaneously 
 -by an improvement in the patient's health, by a fa- 
 vorable modification of circumstances, and the develop- 
 ment of stable and appropriately stimulating interests. 
 The girl Barnes, who split up into ten different lives, 
 each with its own memories, finally settled down into 
 that which was sixth in the order of appearance. She 
 married, became a useful young woman, and followed 
 the profession of a type- writer, her cure having worked 
 itself out altogether unaided by any artificial treat- 
 ment." 
 
 "Well," said Mr. Barton, "this I do believe of you 
 that you are no less anxious for Miss Vivian's welfare 
 than I am. If you can help by your advice to further 
 the result you speak of, I shall ask for nothing better. 
 Let us get the result, and you may trust me to put my 
 own interpretation on it." 
 
 Dr. Thistlewood leaned back in his chair and looked 
 contemplatively at his boots. "We are talking," he 
 said, "of Miss Vivian's health and the kind of mental 
 result we may look for from its continued improvement. 
 I have had better opportunities than you have had for 
 forming an opinion about that. Since the evening on 
 which she realized that a certain romance was hopeless, 
 and exchanged the agitation of suspense for the com- 
 parative calm of disappointment, her general condition 
 has, I think, much improved. Nothing troubles her but 
 the persistence of vivid dreams which tease her because 
 they seem so meaningless dreams of inanimate objects, 
 such as a railway station, which seem to force themselves 
 meaningless on her eyes, and which sometimes make her 
 sleep a worry rather than a rest. At her aunt's sugges- 
 tion she came to me about an hour before your own 
 arrival. I'm sure you won't regard a trouble like this as 
 
 418
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 serious ; and otherwise I thought her better than I have 
 done since my first acquaintance with her. Still this 
 morning she seemed tired I gather that she had been 
 at church so I gave her something that would put her 
 to sleep for an hour or so. She is in the house at this 
 moment. In another five minutes she will be awake. 
 Her aunt will be here for luncheon, and is going to take 
 her home aftenvard. I should suggest that you stay 
 and make your own observations for yourself." 
 
 A rapid flush spread itself over Mr. Barton's face. 
 The image of Miss Vivian as she knelt in church came 
 back to him, and the look of her sacred letter, against 
 which his heart was at that moment beating. He as- 
 sented to Dr. Thistlewood's suggestion with a coldness 
 which was pleasure under a thin disguise. He began 
 to consider whether his own letter would have reached 
 her before she started for the Turkish Castle. He felt 
 convinced that it would, so that when they met they 
 would understand each other. Little did Dr. Thistle- 
 wood dream of the kind of knowledge on which Mr. 
 Barton based his belief in the human soul. 
 
 Lord Cotswold, as usual, received him with gracious 
 friendliness, and he, too, like Dr. Thistlewood, detected 
 in the priest's demeanor, subdued and grave as it was, 
 some subtle and elusive self-confidence which had not 
 been there before. When Lady Sus"annah arrived she 
 looked at Mr. Barton with a glance, so Lord Cotswold 
 noticed, of half-shy, questioning curiosity, and Mr. Bar- 
 ton, by a slight stiffness in his greeting to her, seemed to 
 be withdrawing himself from the reach of any confiden- 
 tial catechising. Then the door opened again, and at 
 last Miss Vivian entered. She was the same as ever, and 
 yet not the same. The soft and equable self-possession 
 which had distinguished her at Lord Cotswold's dinner- 
 party, and had then given place to an artificial frivolity, 
 had developed itself. It shone in the quiet of her eyes 
 and expressed itself in the character of her dress. She 
 was usually addicted to striking though always delicate 
 
 419
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 colors. This morning, from her hat to her shoes, every- 
 thing was a dove-like gray. Perfect as this toilet was 
 from a dressmaker's point of view, it seemed to Mr. 
 Barton to be a sanctification rather than an adornment. 
 Dr. Thistlewood watched to see how she and Mr. Bar- 
 ton met each other. They bowed and just touched each 
 other's hand. Then they moved apart. Dr. Thistle- 
 wood noted their distant demeanor with satisfaction, 
 till he saw that it was followed by a glance of mutual 
 understanding, which caused him to reflect impatiently 
 on the incalculable ways of women. 
 
 At luncheon the two sat opposite to each other. Dr. 
 Thistlewood watched them still. The result of his ob- 
 servation became, as time went on, less and less satis- 
 factory and more and more perplexing to him. As for 
 Mr. Barton, his continued reserve was remarkable. Of 
 that glance which Dr. Thistlewood had intercepted he 
 attempted no repetition. He rarely even looked at the 
 girl, nor did he often address her. Miss Vivian's eyes, 
 on the contrary so Dr. Thistlewood perceived rested 
 on Mr. Barton, not indeed in a way which would have 
 attracted ordinary observation, but nevertheless with 
 a curiously systematic frequency, and their expression 
 was one which, to the best of his recollection, he had 
 never noticed in a woman's eyes before. It betokened 
 a sense of hope mixed with some profound repose. To 
 Dr. Thistlewood himself, however, as well as to her 
 aunt and Lord Cotswold, her manner had a suave com- 
 posure which was always ready on occasion to take the 
 form of a fugitive but wholly unforced cheerfulness. 
 
 "Here is something going on," thought Dr. Thistle- 
 wood to himself, "much more serious than I had antici- 
 pated. This man has bewitched her. If I don't look 
 out the fat will be in the fire in no time. I'm glad to 
 see," he said, turning to the girl rather sharply, "that 
 your nap has done you good. I hope that what you 
 call your morning dreams did not presume to molest you 
 on the sofa after mid-day." 
 
 420
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 Miss Vivian laughed. "No," she said; "I suppose 
 they respected the witching hour of noon." 
 
 "May I ask," said Mr. Barton, for the first time 
 starting a subject, and speaking as though the mat- 
 ter was one of purely impersonal interest, " how 
 dreams in the morning differ from dreams at any other 
 time?" 
 
 "Yes," said Lord Cotswold, "let us hear about this. 
 I've just been reading a book in which the writer at- 
 tempts to divide dreams into classes. What do you say ? 
 Who's there?" This was addressed to a servant. "Cer- 
 tainly. Lay another place. Yes, my dear young lady, 
 you were saying or, rather, you weren't saying, but we 
 all want you to say what distinction you would draw 
 between dreams yourself. Ah this is an unexpected 
 pleasure. We were just talking about dreams. I hope 
 this is a reality." 
 
 Lord Cotswold had risen from his seat, and was grasp- 
 ing the hand of a lady whose clear, incisive voice would 
 have cut any dream in two. 
 
 "Whatever else I may be," said Lady Conway, for 
 the new-comer was she, "I was always a model mother, 
 and I've come back to see my child. At this moment 
 she is lunching on a patent preparation of gruel, and 
 I've fled from a dish of mutton-chops which was pre- 
 pared for my own consumption. My dear," she went 
 on, turning to Miss Vivian, "what's happened to you? 
 One would have thought you'd come from heaven if 
 your clothes hadn't come from Paris. Ah, Mr. Barton, 
 I saw your name last night in a paper which is not, as 
 a rule, much occupied with clerical news. I hope that 
 what I read may be true, and that the World may be 
 allowed to offer its very humble congratulations to the 
 Church. What! Has nobody heard? Mr. Barton, I 
 must reintroduce you as the deserving successor to one 
 of the largest fortunes in Ireland. We shall be having 
 you for a bishop soon." 
 
 "I did hear," said Lady Susannah, "though I didn't 
 421
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 hear any details, a sort of rumor about something of 
 the kind last night." 
 
 Dr. Thistlewood looked at her. Her eyes, in their 
 own way, were an object of study not less curious than 
 Miss Vivian's, but they were much easier to read. Dr. 
 Thistlewood read them like a book. They were turned 
 toward Mr. Barton with a light of intimate yet shy con- 
 gratulation in them, and Dr. Thistlewood knew that in 
 the mind of this simplest and most unworldly of women 
 Mr. Barton had, as a suitor for Miss Vivian's hand, ac- 
 quired a desirability and importance which he hitherto 
 had not possessed. Dr. Thistlewood smiled a little grim- 
 ly. Then he frowned. "This will never do," he mut- 
 tered. "Things are growing worse and worse." 
 
 Mr. Barton somewhat relieved him by courageously 
 changing the conversation. "We were talking just 
 now," he said, "about a subject very much more inter- 
 esting. Miss Vivian was telling us that her morning 
 dreams were more tiring than any others, and Lord 
 Cotswold was asking her how the two kinds differed." 
 
 Miss Vivian, being accordingly pressed to go on with 
 her explanations, did so with perfect simplicity, though 
 the matter in question was not, she said, worth making 
 a fuss about. The morning dreams, she continued, the 
 peculiar dreams that annoyed her, differed from other 
 dreams because they were so much more vivid and at 
 the same time so much more stupid. "For instance," 
 she said, "I dream sometimes of a row of bottles, rather 
 like Mr. Hugo's, only they are cleaner, and I can't get 
 rid of the sight of them. They stay before me like a 
 bright picture. And sometimes I see, in the same tire- 
 some way, an odd kind of stone hut, like a dwarf's hut 
 in a fairy story, or a church-yard, very ill-kept and full 
 of absurd monuments; and, worse still, I am constantly 
 seeing railway stations, or rather bits of them, and they 
 have absurd names. I have often seen one called Pog 
 and another one called Kethar. Dr. Thistlewood was 
 so flattering as to take my reminiscences down. But 
 
 422
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 there's nothing in these dreams except their extraordi- 
 nary clearness and a sort of perverse commonness to 
 make them anything out of the way. They make me 
 feel, when I am asleep, as if a lamp was being waved to 
 and fro before my eyes." 
 
 "My dear," said Lady Conway, "you have given us 
 a most brilliant description. If you could only teach 
 me to see railway stations not Pog and Kethar, but 
 Euston as clearly and pertinaciously as you do, I 
 might, perhaps, beat the police and discover who stole 
 my jewel-case. Well, and how is our Rawlin?" 
 
 Dr. Thistlewood glanced at Miss Vivian, and adroitly 
 upset his wineglass with a view to checking the intro- 
 duction of this indiscreet topic; but Lord Cotswold hav- 
 ing risen at that moment, a general movement followed 
 which rendered this step superfluous. 
 
 "Nest," said Lady Susannah, "I ordered the carriage 
 early. I hear that it's just come. No, Lord Cotswold, 
 no we really mustn't wait for coffee. I have an en- 
 gagement, and shall be rather late as it is. Nest, my 
 dear, what's become of you?" 
 
 What had become of her was this : With a placid di- 
 rectness of movement, as soon as the party rose, she had 
 approached Mr. Barton; she had drawn him a little 
 aside, and, looking up at him with an expression 
 of earnest confidence, she was saying to him some- 
 thing or other which was evidently of deep impor- 
 tance. 
 
 Mr. Barton bent his head to listen. Then he inclined 
 it farther. Otherwise he gave no sign. Miss Vivian 
 and he then parted without the semblance of an ordi- 
 nary leave-taking. 
 
 " My dear Mr. Barton," said Lady Conway, when Miss 
 Vivian and her aunt had departed, "I hope I did not 
 do wrong in congratulating you on your good-fortune. 
 I was certainly betraying no secrets, for I saw the news 
 in an article called 'Social Doings in Ireland.' What 
 the English Church wants is consistent men like your- 
 
 423
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 self, who have the material means for giving effect to 
 their convictions." 
 
 Mr. Barton bowed. The thought expressed by Lady 
 Conway had already mixed itself with his own special 
 hopes and troubles. 
 
 "Well," Lady Conway continued, as she turned round 
 to Lord Cotswold, "I'm glad that dear Susie has got her 
 Miss Nest back again. If half that I've heard lately of 
 the other young lady is true, she had made even Nice a 
 good deal too hot to hold her." 
 
 Dr. Thistlewood looked again at Mr. Barton. He was 
 biting his lip, and for a moment, but for a moment only, 
 his features contracted into an expression of sharp pain. 
 Then he recovered his equanimity, and, observing that 
 his engagements would prevent his remaining longer, 
 made his adieus with a courtesy almost stately in its 
 grave reserve. 
 
 "I may shortly," he said to Dr. Thistlewood, "be 
 able to renew our conversation with a fuller knowledge 
 of the circumstances than that which I possess at pres- 
 ent." 
 
 "What," Dr. Thistlewood asked himself, "could Miss 
 Vivian have just now said to him?" 
 
 What Miss Vivian had said was this: "I am sure of 
 myself now, as I was not when I wrote that note. I 
 now know what you meant all along when you used to 
 talk to me. Try to come and see me to-morrow. To- 
 night I will write again. All I want now is to tell you 
 everything everything. ' ' 
 
 "Mr. Barton," Lady Conway said to Lord Cotswold, 
 as soon as the priest had gone, "takes his good-fortune 
 very much like a saint and a gentleman. I'm sure he 
 would like, if he could, to spend his thousands on fag- 
 ots to burn the people who are wicked enough to dis- 
 agree with him. As for the young lady Dr. Gustav, 
 did you observe her? I always told Rawlin that the 
 young lady would go far. She seems to have discovered 
 in advance on which side her bread is buttered." 
 
 424
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 DR. THISTLEWOOD, ever since the beginning of 
 his confidential relations with Mr. Barton, had 
 made notes of the priest's demeanor under the stress of 
 his own discoveries and the revelations which it had 
 been necessary to inflict on him. That afternoon Dr. 
 Thistlewood made a further note, which was as follows: 
 
 "This man interests me more and more, though he will end 
 by driving me to do something which I would, if possible, 
 avoid. 
 
 "He is a typical specimen of human nature as submitted to 
 two influences which rarely affect the same subject simultane- 
 ously in such close connection namely, those of religious faith 
 and intense personal affection, both reacting on facts calculated 
 to destroy both. 
 
 " The heart of all living faith is, and has always been, an emo- 
 tional and indefinite perception of some profound truth, but 
 this is a kind of truth which, for the great mass of mankind, can 
 be operative only when invested with some form which is defi- 
 nite, and it can be invested with such a form by means of 
 symbols only. Hence all believers (as we call them) in propor- 
 tion to the practical efficiency with which the truth is perceived 
 by them, identify the truth itself with the symbols namely, 
 the cosmic, the moral, and the quasi-historical myths through 
 which alone for them it achieves definiteness. Accordingly, if 
 external facts which conflict with these myths are obtruded on 
 them, they feel that a certainty which is external is being pitted 
 against a deeper certainty which is internal, and this latter cer- 
 tainty so far prevails with them that any theory is accepted by 
 them, no matter how untenable, by which admitted facts may 
 be deprived of their hostile significance, or else may be so ob- 
 scured that they cease to signify anything. Such is the case 
 when faith alone is at issue. In the case of Mr. B., we have a 
 vehement personal affection of a curiously exalted kind, adding 
 
 425
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 to the obstinacy of faith another which is even more vivacious. 
 What precisely has been happening during this last day or two 
 I cannot very well guess. Is it possible that the girl has re- 
 covered her memory of the love-scene when she took him for 
 Sir R., and has transferred to him the good- will of Sir R.'s busi- 
 ness ? To-morrow or next day I am prepared to hear anything 
 of mutual passion and rapture in which all facts are forgotten. 
 If that prove to be the case, then the eyes of the blind must be 
 opened once again. And then I shall be sorry for her perhaps 
 even for him, too." 
 
 If Dr. Thistlewood could have looked into Mr. Bar- 
 ton's heart he would have exchanged his state of con- 
 jecture for one of moral certainty. That supreme bless- 
 edness, the prospect of which, when first held out to 
 him, Mr. Barton had found to be a delusion, and which, 
 having raised him so high, and having made a new man 
 of him, had vanished, abasing him in the depths of 
 amazed sorrow, revealed itself to him now and sooner 
 than he had dared to hope as being at last on the point 
 of turning into an ineffable, an overwhelming reality. 
 Compared with his present expectations, those which 
 brought him such beatitude on his journey home from 
 Nice seemed puerile. 
 
 Late that same evening the expected summons reached 
 him to present himself at Cliff's End. It came not from 
 Miss Vivian herself, but from her aunt writing on her 
 behalf. Here was solid evidence that there was no 
 more delusion now. Lady Susannah wrote: 
 
 " DEAR MR. BARTON, Nest tells me that, at her own request, 
 you are coming again to talk to her. She wants it to be to- 
 morrow. This is a great relief to me. If there was anything 
 wrong, I do hope that your coming will make things right for 
 both of you. I am glad for your own sake to hear about your 
 great inheritance. No one could know better than a person so 
 nobly disinterested as yourself how to use great wealth wisely. 
 I hope that we, as a family, may have the right to be very 
 proud of you. Will you come about five o'clock? When you 
 come I will arrange that you shall go to Nest's sitting-room, for 
 in my own little nook near the door there has been a fall of soot, 
 and everything will be covered up with sheets, as a prepara- 
 
 426
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 tion for the chimney-sweeps. Don't trouble to write if the time 
 which I have named suits you. Unless we hear to the contrary 
 before twelve to-morrow, you will find Nest waiting for you." 
 
 Mr. Barton, at the hour appointed, entered the sacred 
 chamber. His heart beat tumultuously. A lump rose 
 in his throat. When Miss Vivian greeted him the words 
 which he tried to form were no more than a hoarse 
 whisper. Neither of them made any show of extending 
 a hand to the other, but looks and signs were exchanged 
 in accordance with which they seated themselves, a table 
 being interposed between them. 
 
 "I thank you so much for coming," Miss Vivian said, 
 at last. "Will you let me begin and put things in my 
 own way?" 
 
 Her voice was charged with feeling, but, unlike Mr. 
 Barton's, it was under her complete control, and her 
 manner was strangely equable, giving no hint of nervous- 
 ness. Mr. Barton, by a movement of his head, signified 
 his desire that she should proceed. 
 
 "I want you, then," she began, "to see me with a 
 good light on me, as photographers say, so as to assure 
 yourself that I am looking well. I do look well, don't 
 you think so? I look, don't I, and I am talking like a 
 person who is healthy and wide awake and has all her 
 wits about her ? I never in my life felt more matter of 
 fact or less of a dreamer than I do at this moment. 
 Wait a second. Let me take away that bowl of flowers. 
 It prevents my seeing you properly. Well, I should like 
 you to tell me that I make a proper, healthy impression 
 on you. I'm not saying this for talking's sake. I want 
 a genuine, candid answer." 
 
 Mr. Barton had no difficulty in giving her the assur- 
 ance for which she asked. No one who saw and listened 
 to her could possibly have done otherwise. 
 
 "That's right," she said, with a smile of half-playful 
 relief. "Now I can speak with confidence. I am now 
 going to speak to you about things to which my eyes 
 a s 427
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 have been opened partly by your aid things in relation 
 to which, as you yourself once said to me it was that 
 day, after luncheon, when we walked together along the 
 cliffs nothing can come between us." 
 
 Her face, with its setting of delicately arranged hair, 
 though it could not divest itself of the magic of its lurk- 
 ing piquancies, was so transfigured as to suggest to Mr. 
 Barton's mind a memorable line of Byron's 
 
 "All youth, but with an aspect beyond time." 
 
 "I want you," Miss Vivian proceeded, in a low but 
 unhesitating tone, "to know me as I know myself. Let 
 me tell you something about my childhood. I believe 
 I used often to be ill, but there's much that I am con- 
 fused about and can't very well remember. But some 
 things stand out as clearly as if they had happened yes- 
 terday. I mean things which happened, or which seem- 
 ed to happen, sometimes in church and sometimes in 
 my own room. When I had said my prayers, or was 
 thinking about them afterward, I used sometimes to 
 fancy that I saw our Lord standing before me, and once 
 or twice the Blessed Virgin. They never spoke, but 
 they would smile at me in a way that gave me con- 
 fidence, and if I was in trouble because I had lost some- 
 thing, they would by a look or a movement show me 
 where to find it. Now I don't think any longer, what- 
 ever I may have thought once, that these figures were 
 what one would call realities. I now have special rea- 
 sons for knowing that they were not. In one sense they 
 were fancies. But would you say they were fancies 
 which were merely morbid which came to me because 
 I was not well? Or would you think it possible that 
 they were signs which meant that I was near, or was 
 getting nearer, to what I seemed to see so clearly?" 
 
 Mr. Barton changed his position. He turned his face 
 away from her, and before he pronounced an answer he 
 pondered with contracted brows. 
 
 "No doubt," he said, at last, "visions of the kind 
 428
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 you speak of all sound theologians are, I think, of 
 this opinion have been due again and again to the 
 operation of evil spirits, who have sought to betray 
 the humble by filling them with a false pride. I feel 
 convinced, however, from the way in which you speak 
 of the matter, that this could not have been so with 
 you." 
 
 "I'm sure," said Miss Vivian, "that these things pro- 
 duced no pride in myself. But I'll tell you what they 
 did do. They made prayer and religion too little of a 
 self-denial and too much of a self-indulgence." 
 
 Mr. Barton smiled. "Who has been frightening you," 
 he replied, "with such ideas as these? When our Lord 
 said, 'Suffer the little children to come to me,' do you 
 think he meant their coming to be painful? Do you 
 ask me about this I hope that such may be the case 
 because you are finding at the present time that the act 
 of prayer is becoming more easy and spontaneous than 
 it once was?" 
 
 "Yes," said Miss Vivian, quietly, "that is more or 
 less my meaning." She stopped abruptly, and both of 
 them were for some time silent. 
 
 At last Mr. Barton said : "In speaking just now of the 
 visions seen by you in your childhood, you hinted that 
 at one time you perhaps took them for realities, and 
 that you have recently quite recently, I so understood 
 from your manner had reasons for assuring yourself 
 that they did not possess that character. What touch- 
 stone have you found which enables you to reach an 
 opinion of this very decided kind?" 
 
 "That," said Miss Vivian, "is the point to which I 
 have been leading up. I wanted to feel sure that you 
 wouldn't laugh at me or think me mad. Mr. Barton, 
 listen. I know that those early visions were not actual 
 external things, because I have seen, since then, other 
 visions which were so." 
 
 She uttered these words slowly and very gravely, but 
 she uttered them with the quiet of one who, troubled by 
 
 429
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 no doubt, finds all emphasis superfluous. Mr. Barton 
 drew a sharp breath. A new world of wonders, for him 
 essentially credible, was opening its abyss before him. 
 He did not speak, but a look from him besought her to 
 continue. 
 
 " I am telling you all this," she resumed, with the same 
 self-possessed solemnity, "not because I want to ask 
 you whether these things which I have lately seen were 
 fancies. I know they were not, just as surely as I know 
 that this room is not a fancy. I am telling you because 
 I want you to stand over me, or by my side, and help me 
 along that way on which you have travelled so far your- 
 self, and which now must be mine also. And I come to 
 you, not only because I have known your sympathy in 
 the past, but also because you have been pointed out to 
 me, in a way of which I will tell you presently, as the 
 friend who will sustain and help me. Do you think, if 
 I were not certain of my facts, that I should venture to 
 talk like this to you?" 
 
 "Tell me," said Mr. Barton, in a low, quivering voice, 
 as though he were in the presence of some divine vision 
 himself, "what these visions were, and when, and in 
 what place they appeared to you?" 
 
 "They appeared to me in church," she said, "not dur- 
 ing any service, but when I was alone there, as I have 
 been, early in the morning each of these last few days. 
 I felt that something was coming. I was dimly con- 
 scious of the direction in which I was being drawn and 
 guided, and at last well, I can only say that this won- 
 derful thing happened. But, wonderful as it was, it 
 somehow did not surprise me. It merely seemed to com- 
 plete something, like a rose unfolding from its bud. I 
 had been kneeling in church for half an hour or so, not 
 praying exactly, but thinking things over, and feeling 
 them letting them grow into me. They were the sort 
 of things of which your own book, The Secret Way, is 
 full, and of which you talked to me when we walked that 
 afternoon along the cliffs together the world beyond 
 
 430
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 the world, the star beyond the star, the heart of hearts, 
 the better country which the ships will never reach, but 
 to which they seem to beckon us. And then I opened 
 my eyes, and my eyes fixed themselves on the altar, 
 and I thought of how He, who is the heart of all this in- 
 ward world, condescends to come to us there in His 
 actual bodily form, though its beauty is then veiled, and 
 how He offers to those who seek Him a refuge from all 
 loss. And as I was doing this the chancel became vague, 
 but I still saw the lamp that hangs in it. It was a spot 
 of extreme brightness. I remember this vividly. And 
 then this brightness disappeared and gave place to an- 
 other, which seemed to have come forward, so that it 
 was like a white cloud, which I could have touched had 
 I held my hand out ; and the next thing I knew was that 
 our Lord Himself stood before me, and no veil hid Him 
 now. His form, Mr. Barton, was just as clear as yours 
 is. I could take in every detail. His dress was white 
 and loose, and there were two lines bordering it, one 
 gold and one red, like a piece of braid. And He stooped 
 toward me, and He just touched my chin, so as to raise 
 my head a little, and make me look Him full in the 
 eyes, and He said to me, 'I know you love Me. Do 
 you love Me well enough to become altogether Mine ? ' 
 And I must have said 'Yes,' though I don't know how 
 I said it. And then He opened His robe and I saw his 
 sacred breast, and a face was painted on it so perfectly 
 that it seemed like a real face reposing there, and it was 
 yours. And our Lord said to me, 'Are you willing to 
 rest where he rests?' And I said 'Yes,' as before, and 
 He said, 'Then I will give you my guidance and show 
 you how this may be.'" 
 
 "Go on," said Mr. Barton. "You spoke of visions. 
 Was this followed by another?" 
 
 "Yes," she replied. "The second vision came next 
 morning in the same place. You are taking me seri- 
 ously, aren't you? You're not laughing?" 
 
 "If I could laugh at all," said Mr Barton, "I should 
 43 i
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 laugh at that foolish question of yours. My face is an 
 open book to you. Read it for yourself and see." 
 
 For a certain number of seconds the priest and the 
 girl looked at each other. When a pure man, to whom 
 love first reveals itself in his maturity, and who, contrary 
 to the habits of a lifetime, has felt the unbelievable 
 pressure of a woman's lips on his, her lips can never be 
 to him the thing that they were before. They are the 
 rim of a vessel in which the spiritual wine is tendered to 
 him, and the wine will not quench his thirst until he has 
 touched those lips again. Spiritual beings, with a flut- 
 tering of dove-like wings, were, so it seemed to Mr. Bar- 
 ton, thickening in the air around him, and were drawing 
 Miss Vivian and himself together in the tabernacle of 
 their brooding plumes. But his moment was not yet 
 come. It was coming; but he even now must wait 
 awhile. 
 
 "My child," he said, lowering his eyelids, "go on, if 
 you think me worthy. I mustn't go on looking at you 
 I mean not yet not yet. Well the second vision it 
 came, and it gave you the guidance promised?" 
 
 "Yes," said Miss Vivian, "and I am bringing its mes- 
 sage to you, so as to be assured that I have understood 
 it rightly. As I said just now, this second vision came 
 to me in the church also. It came yesterday morning. 
 It, too, began with a brightness which seemed to origi- 
 nate in the neighborhood of the hanging - lamp, and 
 which soon afterward was as near to me as the next row 
 of chairs. And then this soft cloud went, and instead 
 of it was the Blessed Virgin. And her dress was blue, 
 like the deepest blueness of the sky, and her hands were 
 white like lilies, and the hearts of all women seemed to 
 be melting in her eyes. And she said to me : ' Nest Viv- 
 ian, your heart has been tried by the love of what you 
 never could have made your own. It has been tried 
 thus, so that you might be drawn toward another object 
 which can be made your own entirely. My Son loves 
 you, and I know that you love my Son, and He has sent 
 
 433
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 me to tell you how you may be worthy of His most close 
 embrace. If you would be worthy of my Son you must 
 do what by some of those nearest to you will be ac- 
 counted foolishness, but there is one whose head reposes 
 on my Son's breast, and he will protect and lead you, 
 making hard things easy, and you and he shall be with 
 my Son together.'" 
 
 Mr. Barton bowed his head. One tense hand was 
 pressed against his closed eyes. The supreme revelation 
 was, he felt, to be made at last, and he and she would 
 then be in each other's arms. 
 
 Miss Vivian's voice, previously quite tranquil, had be- 
 gun to tremble, not much, but perceptibly, and she had 
 paused as though to recover her self-possession. "Well, 
 Mr. Barton," she resumed, "the Blessed Virgin went on 
 in this way: 'Nest Vivian,' she said, 'raise your eyes to 
 mine. You know the title by which the Church calls 
 me, and you know what that title means. If you would 
 be worthy of my Son you must be and you must remain 
 as I am, and you must join the company of those made 
 sisters by most sweet vows who have given themselves 
 to the Sacred Heart, and have no lover and no bride- 
 groom except Christ.' And then she kissed me on the 
 forehead and I was alone again in the empty church, 
 and the words ' Sacred Heart ' were still sounding in my 
 ears, and I knew that what she had said was the un- 
 sealing of my inmost thought. You, who have been 
 given to me for my guide, you must now help me. There 
 is no need for haste," she went on, with a smile, "or for 
 rushing things. When people are certain they can easi- 
 ly afford to wait ; and there must be a convent which 
 will take me, like that of which our Lady spoke. That's 
 the sort of thing which you know, or which you will find 
 out for me, and your judgment shall be my guide. Ah, 
 Mr. Barton, I shall no longer make you anxious by seem- 
 ing too fond of balls; and this, if you still care for me, 
 will, I fancy, be a great relief to you. Why do you look 
 like that? Your face seems as though it had turned to 
 
 433
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 marble. Do you think that I have taken myself in? 
 Do you think that I am too presumptuous? Do you 
 think that our Lord never appears to anybody?" 
 
 Mr. Barton had risen to his feet. The fashion of his 
 countenance, as she said, had indeed undergone a change. 
 With a hasty movement of his hand he enjoined her not 
 to speak, and he seemed to experience a difficulty in 
 finding his own voice. " God forbid," he said, " that such 
 unbelief should be mine. Just now you uttered words 
 of wisdom. There is no need for haste. Were you less 
 dear to me than you are I might find a readier answer. 
 Nest Vivian, you do not know what you have done. 
 You have confronted me with a problem so profound 
 that as yet I cannot see to the bottom of it. I must 
 think it over in a solitude so solitary that you can hard- 
 ly imagine the desolation of it. Before I go, give me 
 some sign of your recognition that, if I am slow in giving 
 you any judgment, it is for your sake it is for your sake 
 that I am slow." 
 
 He stood facing her. He made no movement with 
 his arms, but his hands were opened toward her in a 
 mute and forlorn appeal. It was an appeal which took 
 her by surprise; but she divined its immediate import, 
 and she could not resist it, though what lay behind it was 
 a riddle to her. She approached him frankly and grave- 
 ly, she made the gesture for which he hungered, and one 
 hand of hers gave itself to each of his. 
 
 " You don't, then, think me presumptuous ? And you 
 won't desert me on my pilgrimage ?" She put the ques- 
 tions submissively, and yet with a regained confidence, 
 her hands meanwhile being still in his close grip. It was 
 all he could do to restrain himself from throwing his 
 arms around her. As a matter of fact, he maintained 
 a rigid though not a forbidding aloofness, and said to 
 her, solemnly: 
 
 "When God bestows on any one any very signal favor, 
 she or he who receives it must not expect to understand 
 it without long and careful thought. The Blessed Vir- 
 
 434
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 gin had to ponder long herself before the true nature of 
 her own blessedness dawned on her. St. Teresa brought 
 her visions to her confessor, and scrupulously sought his 
 counsel, before she allowed herself any assurance as to 
 what they really meant. Of you, then, I ask that for a 
 time you should reverently suspend your judgment, and 
 that meanwhile you should pray and meditate, and ex- 
 amine calmly the very recesses of your own heart. And 
 I, for my part, will pray and meditate likewise, and ex- 
 amine all sides of the question. Then, but not till then, 
 my judgment may venture to aid yours. When that 
 time comes," he added, dropping her hand, "may God 
 Himself judge between me and you. I, my child, I 
 have had my visions also, and I have suffered in them 
 things concerning you."
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 " /\ /I ATTERS do not seem to be marching as quickly as I 
 
 / V I had feared they would. Mr. Barton as yet has made no 
 
 further sign. I had, however, yesterday a line from Miss 
 
 N. V. Whatever has happened, she, at all events, seems to be 
 
 fairly satisfied, except for those morning dreams of hers, which 
 
 still give her some trouble. If they do not cease soon, she says, 
 
 she would like to see me again, though she bears them now much 
 
 better than she did at first." 
 
 Such was the entry made by Dr. Thistlewood in his 
 note-book three days after that intimate and furtive 
 parting which had caught his attention in the dining- 
 room of the Turkish Castle. 
 
 When two days more had passed he had something 
 further to record: 
 
 " Yesterday afternoon, by appointment, had a visit from Miss 
 N. V. In her general health there is a very decided improve- 
 ment. She has been out with her aunt calling on some of Lady 
 S.'s Southquay friends also on some poor people. This is a 
 new practice. I mentioned Sir R.'s name to her. I did this while 
 I had occasion to feel her pulse. The pulse distinctly quickened. 
 Also there was a momentary blush. Otherwise she was abso- 
 lutely tranquil. She once more described her dreams. I gave 
 her the same treatment, and with very interesting results. These 
 set down at length in note-book 256." 
 
 Here a break occurred in Dr. Thistlewood's page. 
 Then came the following entry, written some hours 
 later: 
 
 " Since writing the above, have had at last another visit from 
 Mr. B. He was certainly not triumphant. On the other hand, 
 he was not exactly dejected. He has, he told me, been im- 
 mersed in correspondence connected with his succession to his 
 
 43 6
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 late uncle's property. This may explain a good deal, but it 
 does not explain everything. It explains an added obstinacy 
 with which, I am sure, he sticks to his own opinions; but one 
 thing it does not explain namely, a genuine anxiety which he 
 displayed, very different from his first hysterical efforts to con- 
 vince himself by the process of annihilating me, that physical 
 science has nothing to do with souls an anxiety to learn how 
 much or how little the vile body can, in one way or another, 
 perturb the indivisible entity which condescends to inhabit it. 
 Indeed, he has actually made a suggestion which I had made 
 to him myself already, and which then he seemed to dismiss 
 as unworthy of much attention. He suggested that he should 
 come here when Lord Cotswold and I were at leisure he did 
 not care how often and ascertain what science has really got 
 to say about the matters which are now troubling him. We 
 have arranged everything. Our gentleman is to dine here to- 
 morrow. Lord C. knows nothing of the secret of Mr. B.'s dis- 
 tress, except the fact that Mr. B., having begun to prepare her 
 for confirmation, has discovered that N. V. was confirmed in 
 childhood and had forgotten the fact through illness. With 
 Mr. B.'s assent, so as to render discussion easier, I am to tell 
 Lord C. that a case similar to Miss V.'s has occurred among Mr. 
 B.'s more or less intimate acquaintances, and has caused him 
 much perplexity." 
 
 An observation is to be found in the memoirs of an 
 obscure writer to the effect that a sorrow or anxiety, its 
 cause being still operative, can be cured, and cured only 
 by another different in kind and more insistent. "My 
 financial losses," he says, "my own faulty extravagance, 
 and my terrible inability to meet my just obligations, 
 were a load on my back all day, and when I slept they 
 were a nightmare; but when, having loved Margaret, 
 and believed that she loved me, I was led to doubt 
 whether this love continued, my debts ceased to exist 
 for me. I lived in this new pain only. As for the others, 
 I could hardly so much as recollect them. But when my 
 doubts of Margaret ended, and the aching of my heart 
 was eased, the load of my debts came back to me, and 
 I soon found myself wondering how any one thus loaded 
 could have any patience for so idle a thing as love- 
 making." 
 
 437
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 Mr. Barton's experiences, ever since that memorable 
 morning when he had seen Miss Vivian in church, and 
 afterward received her letter, had offered a parallel to 
 the fact chronicled in this brief passage. The pressure 
 of his intellectual perplexity was expelled altogether 
 from his consciousness, first by the rapture, and then by 
 the absorbing pain which he experienced successively as 
 the adoring and the despairing lover. His new hopes 
 had lightened this pressure. His new pain had extruded 
 it from the circle of his conscious being. 
 
 This new pain was more profound, because it was 
 more concentrated, than that caused by his first disap- 
 pointment and the terrifying revelations attendant on 
 it, but it was more easily borne. His spiritual fortitude, 
 in the present case, was not weakened. It was, on the 
 contrary, stimulated by the call of the great sorrow 
 which bade it, in the name of Christ, to come forth and 
 display itself. Mr. Barton had not walked with his Lord 
 for nothing. He had felt in his meditations the cross on 
 his own shoulders. He was familiar with the meaning 
 of the great word " Renuntio, " and he had often solemn- 
 ly wondered when, if ever, the supreme summons would 
 come to him to pronounce that word on his own account. 
 Had that summons come now ? And was this, indeed, to 
 be the form of it, that he should tear from his heart all 
 hopes of making humanly his own that life which the 
 Lord had committed to his special keeping? With an 
 effort he placed his hopes in the hands of his divine 
 Master, and prepared himself to face the desert across 
 which, it might well be, all his journey would lie be- 
 tween that hour and his last. 
 
 Gradually, however, his thoughts began to take a dif- 
 ferent turn. Thus far, so a whisper told him, he had 
 been thinking of himself only. It might be a very fine 
 thing for his own soul this renunciation of an earthly 
 love; but might it not mean the abandonment of Miss 
 Vivian to a kind of life for which she had no vocation 
 and to which these visions of hers had not really called 
 
 438
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 her? And here a thought suggested itself to Mr. Bar- 
 ton's mind which, strangely enough, had thus far es- 
 caped him. In desiring to enter a convent, what was 
 the kind of convent which Miss Vivian had in contem- 
 plation? The only book which he had lent her bear- 
 ing on conventual aspirations namely, The Visions of 
 the Saints was the work of a Roman Catholic. The 
 "Sacred Heart" these words were ominously suggest- 
 ive of Rome. Could it be that her desire was to quit 
 the Anglican communion, she not knowing in her sim- 
 plicity what such a step would mean ? Here, for an An- 
 glican priest, was indeed a grave question. The Lord 
 could, by no possibility, urge one of his children to stray 
 from that special fold in which He had Himself placed 
 her; and here the whole problem opened itself of what 
 these visions of Miss Vivian's might be really meant to 
 convey to her. Round Mr. Barton's head, as he took 
 this problem to his pillow with him, her image hovered, 
 beseeching him not to leave her until no doubt existed 
 as to the things belonging to her peace. 
 
 When he rose from his bed next morning his eyes had 
 some new purpose in them, and his breakfast was no 
 sooner despatched than he sought out certain volumes 
 which occupied a portion of his shelves not often dis- 
 turbed. They were volumes which dealt with the sub- 
 ject of visions, true and false, and for many hours he 
 was examining the treatise of a Spanish theologian on 
 the various tests by which the true and the false might 
 be discriminated, and more especially on the several 
 varieties of the latter, some of which were due to the 
 ingenuity of evil spirits, some to a perverse activity in 
 the mind of the visionary himself, and which consti- 
 tuted a danger from which saints even were not exempt. 
 There was one section which he reread more than once. 
 It's title was "De visionibus quae naturalibus causis 
 tribuendas sunt." He had just placed a marker between 
 the pages of this section when he started to pay that 
 visit at the Turkish Castle which resulted, as Dr. Thistle- 
 
 439
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 wood set down in his notes, in Mr. Barton's engagement 
 to return there the following day with the strange ob- 
 ject of learning whether science could not teach him 
 something. 
 
 Lord Cotswold at once put Mr. Barton at his ease by 
 expressing the pleasure he felt in the prospect of some 
 further philosophical discussion with one whose point 
 of view was in many ways different from his own. " My 
 interest," he added, "though I must not say my pleas- 
 ure, is increased by learning that two curious cases, 
 which belong to the region lying between matter and 
 spirit, have been brought under your own notice, and 
 have provided you with a definite reason for consider- 
 ing what such cases mean in relation to your own phi- 
 losophy. As to your young friend, who, it seems, has 
 received already the sacrament for which you were pre- 
 paring her, and has oddly enough forgotten the fact 
 well, Mr. Barton, there you have a question of theology 
 which I won't presume to touch upon. Taken by itself, 
 it is merely an illustration, for you singularly vivid, of 
 a vicissitude which is common enough in the career of 
 human memory, and being common it escapes notice. 
 But the other case the duplication, or it may be the 
 triplication, of self in the person of one of your own ac- 
 quaintances there you have something which at once 
 arrests attention. It obliges you to puzzle over prob- 
 lems which would otherwise have been never so much 
 as imagined by you. Come, let us go to dinner."
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 MR. BARTON experienced a very sensible relief on 
 perceiving how completely, on Lord Cotswold's 
 part, any suspicion was wanting with regard to the 
 identity of the case which was to be the text of the im- 
 pending conversation, and the trio were accordingly no 
 sooner seated at the dinner-table than he felt it in- 
 cumbent on him to begin by putting the two others 
 in their place. 
 
 "In a general way," he said, addressing his host, "I 
 am, of course, sufficiently aware of the sort of interpreta- 
 tion put by you on cases of this kind, so I ought to tell 
 you plainly, before we go any further, that such an in- 
 terpretation is for me forgive me the expression an 
 absurdity, or has an absurdity at the root of it. I am, 
 of course, ready to listen to whatever you can say in de- 
 fence of it, but I ought to make it clear that the only 
 open question for myself is not what these maladies sig- 
 nify: it is how they can be cured, and what are their 
 precise symptoms. I mean," he continued, as Lord Cots- 
 wold encouraged him to explain himself, "how far can 
 the activity of the physical organism mimic the activity 
 of the actual mind or soul? I cannot, you see, even 
 state my case without making assumptions which you 
 and Dr. Thistlewood will repudiate; but still there is 
 a whole world of facts which I admit not less freely than 
 you do. One soul in this life knows another soul through 
 the medium of the body only. I admit also that when 
 the soul is engaged in contemplation or meditation, the 
 body plays a necessary part in this inward process like- 
 wise; and just as a person who suffers from aphasia, 
 
 441
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 which admittedly is a physical and not a mental afflic- 
 tion, fails to convey his true thoughts to another, so 
 may the soul, owing to causes equally physical, fail to 
 present true thoughts to itself. I should incline, in fact, 
 to represent the brain as a glass, through which, under 
 normal conditions, the soul sees things as through a 
 window, but which is, on occasion, so bent or tilted that 
 it acts as certain mirrors do, used by conjurors on a 
 stage, and, instead of showing the soul things really ex- 
 isting, bewilder it with images which are reflections of 
 its own ideas. Here, I should say, we have the origin 
 to take an extreme case of those false visions which, 
 as all theologians admit, even saints at times have been 
 in danger of mistaking for true ones. My own view 
 here may differ from yours in some respects, but we are 
 both concerned with the same order of facts, and it 
 would interest me much to learn, as a practical man, 
 within what limits these hallucinations develop them- 
 selves, and with what physical conditions scientific ob- 
 servers connect them. This is what I desire far more 
 than a controversy over first principles; but still, if you 
 would care to spy out what you and Dr. Thistlewood 
 would regard as the nakedness of a priest's soul, so be 
 it. I am at your disposal. Let us take first principles 
 first." 
 
 "We did," said Lord Cotswold, "not so very long ago, 
 have a little skirmish about these things, or at least 
 we sounded our trumpets. But the conditions then 
 were unequal, and thus far they are so still. We know 
 your position ; you made it plain in your admirable ser- 
 mon. But what do you know of ours? You seem to 
 think that it is represented by a modern paraphrase of 
 Lucretius. Let Dr. Gustav and me put our heads to- 
 gether and try to do it more justice." 
 
 Mr. Barton assented, the spirit of battle rising in him. 
 
 "Perhaps," he said, "my words the other night may 
 have sounded unduly crude; but, if you come to the 
 essence of things, I am still prepared to maintain that 
 
 442
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 the materialism of to-day, endlessly elaborated as it is, 
 has not advanced, and is forever incapable of advancing, 
 a single step beyond the old Lucretian paradox. Ex- 
 press it as you will, you have this assumption at the 
 bottom of it: that life can and does result from a colloca- 
 tion of lifeless particles, the corollary being that, since 
 matter was before mind, mind played no part in the 
 process which was the condition of its own development. 
 The parent process, in other words, was fortuitous. 
 Sense came out of nonsense. Well, Lord Cotswold, 
 till you can induce me to believe this, the first principles 
 of materialism, whether modern or otherwise, are, I fear, 
 outside the pale of what for me is reasonable discussion. 
 Still, I can listen. I am willing to be a target for your 
 own and for Dr. Thistlewood's arrows." 
 
 "Mr. Barton," said Dr. Thistlewood, half laughing, 
 "I could see that the challenge in your eyes, when you 
 talked about fortuitous particles, was especially directed 
 against myself. It is now your turn to be patient, and 
 you shall have my general answer. What you say about 
 Lucretius and his particles is no doubt true enough. I 
 grant you also that many modern scientific specialists 
 have, as to first principles, got no further than he. For 
 them, as for him, the universes, living and lifeless, result 
 from a concurrence of particles supposed to have been 
 originally independent. But, if you consider what sci- 
 ence really implies, you will find that these particles, 
 which are vulgarly supposed to be its starting-point, are 
 by it, more vehemently than by any other system of 
 philosophy, repudiated as impossible and, indeed, un- 
 thinkable things. For science an independent particle 
 is a contradiction of terms. Take the law of gravitation. 
 This, as has been well said of it, means that every grain 
 of ground pepper in Sirius affects every grain of salt in 
 every salt-cellar in Paris. If science teaches us any- 
 thing, here is its universal lesson: that no particle has 
 ever existed or can exist, can be what it is or be where 
 it is, except in virtue of its connection with every other 
 , 9 443
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 particle in the universe. If you realize this you will 
 see that matter, for modern science, is something very 
 different from a chance concourse of atoms, each of 
 which was originally a sort of hermit in space and 
 might possibly again become so. Each one of them is 
 the centre of an endless web of connections. Apart 
 from that, it would not exist at all. In the dance of a 
 mote in a sunbeam is all the movement of the stars. 
 Every smallest activity of your brain or mine is a move- 
 ment of the thought universal. It is continuous with 
 and inseparable from the process which reddens on the 
 robin's breast and shines in all the courses of the suns. 
 I don't expect you," Dr. Thistlewood went on, "to 
 grasp, in the interval between your soup and your cutlet, 
 a conception which is still unfamiliar to many men of 
 science themselves; but a practised thinker such as you 
 are will at least gather from what I have said that 
 modern science, if it deduces life from matter, under- 
 stands the word ' matter ' in a sense so different from 
 your own as not to be open to the criticisms which you 
 have just now sought to apply to it." 
 
 "I can only," said Mr. Barton, doggedly, "go by what 
 I happen to read; and it seems to me that, not so many 
 years ago, we had a great German scientist address- 
 ing this allocution to the world: 'The brain secretes 
 thought as the liver secretes bile.' You, Dr. Thistle- 
 wood, may disguise this doctrine as you will, but as 
 soon as you wash off the paint to this favor does it 
 come." 
 
 "I agree," said Dr. Thistlewood, "that this statement 
 as it stands is absurd, but, without painting it up, let 
 us try the experiment of completing it. The brain 
 secretes thought, but what has produced the brain ? It 
 is not for science, whatever it may be for theology, a 
 little hermit mechanism self-created and generating its 
 own movements. It is linked by a chain of causes to 
 the whole past of the universe, and if detached for a 
 moment from the system of things surrounding it to 
 
 444
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 make an impossible supposition it wouldn't be a brain 
 at all." 
 
 "I think," said Mr. Barton, turning from Dr. Thistle- 
 wood to Lord Cotswold, "that my opponent is still 
 eluding the ultimate crux of the situation. Until we 
 consider what the nature of conscious life is, it may 
 perhaps be possible to persuade ourselves that such life 
 is the product of compound causes; but I don't retract 
 one word of what I said in my sermon that the essence 
 of our life is consciousness, and consciousness is es- 
 sentially one and indivisible. Its centre is the ego, 
 which is the nominative case of its verb the numeral 
 which alone gives value to the series of ciphers follow- 
 ing it." 
 
 "When Sir Rawlin Stantor and I," said Lord Cots- 
 wold, "were together in Persia, we were induced by the 
 atmosphere of the East and perhaps by the fact that 
 we had much time on our hands to study Eastern 
 philosophy, more especially that of India. Of science, 
 in our sense of the word, Indian thought knows nothing; 
 and yet Buddhism, which regards the separate self 
 not as a primary fact but as the last illusion, and 
 Brahminism, with its Great Sentence, are far more in 
 accord with the European science of to-day than are 
 any of the philosophies which have developed them- 
 selves since the beginning of the scientific epoch. If 
 you urged your argument about the permanence of the 
 individual soul on a Hindu, the Great Sentence, as it is 
 called, of the Vedantic philosophy would be his answer 
 to you. In that sentence is the heart of a philosophy 
 which is far older than the Christian, and which is ready 
 to burn and blossom out of the Western science of to- 
 day. 'Thou art That.' In those three words our own 
 science is summarized." 
 
 "I confess," said Mr. Barton, slightly curling his lip, 
 and pushing a cherry-stone about his plate as though 
 chastising it for some ineptitude, "that I do not find 
 this Great Sentence more than moderately illuminating. 
 
 445
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 Myself, I should get more out of the two great com- 
 mandments in the Gospels." 
 
 Lord Cotswold, quite unmoved by the delicate irony 
 of his guest, was about to answer when the course of the 
 discussion was interrupted by a letter which was brought 
 to Dr. Thistlewood, and which contained so he said 
 when he had glanced at it a request to attend a friend 
 now staying in Southquay, and suffering from a com- 
 plaint with the nature of which Dr. Thistlewood had 
 special acquaintance. "I shall be back," he said, "in 
 less than an hour, and Mr. Barton will, I hope, still be 
 here." 
 
 "I," said Lord Cotswold, "will do my best to retain 
 him. While you are away we'll suspend our present 
 discussion, and I'll show him some of my plans and 
 photographs of early Syrian churches." 
 
 Mr. Barton had no interest in seeing how absurdities 
 might be rendered plausible. Spirit for him was spirit, 
 and matter, as such, was matter. Matter, through its 
 relation to spirit, became no more alive than a mirror 
 did because living things were reflected in it. All he 
 wanted to discuss and he wanted to discuss it, not with 
 an amateur mystic, but with a doctor of considerable 
 experience was the simple question of how far the 
 mirror on occasion might mislead the eyes which looked 
 in it by such and such false reflections. He felt, ac- 
 cordingly, when Dr. Thistlewood left the room, that his 
 own concern in the conversation was for the time sus- 
 pended, and he was presently glad to avail himself of 
 his host's suggestion that they should, during Dr. Thistle- 
 wood's absence, turn from the philosophies of the East 
 to the sanctities of its Christian architecture. 
 
 "We will," said Lord Cotswold, when a number of 
 bulky portfolios had been brought forth from their hid- 
 ing-places and deposited on a convenient table, "talk 
 of the Great Sentence at a more convenient season. 
 Now, what have we here? Ah, this is the Templars' 
 chapel in the great Castellum Peregrinorum. Do you 
 
 446
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 see that mountain in the background? It was there 
 that Elijah brought confusion on the priests of Baal, 
 and saw the rising of the cloud no bigger than a man's 
 hand. Here we have a bit from Aleppo. This I found 
 at Alexandretta. Do you see the broken columns 
 doubtless from some temple of Venus which have been 
 built, like logs, into the chancel walls ? Here we come to 
 Famagusta. That wheel-shaped window is finer than 
 anything of its kind in Europe." Mr. Barton took a 
 magnifying-glass which his host offered him, and was 
 soon absorbed in an examination of mouldings and 
 masonry, the construction of vaulted roofs, and the 
 style and subjects of frescos obscured by time or 
 shadow. His interest was genuine, and he permitted 
 himself slightly to exaggerate it in order to avoid the 
 recrudescence of philosophical or theological contro- 
 versy. 
 
 Thus an hour and then another hour went by. Dr. 
 Thistlewood had not returned, and Mr. Barton was be- 
 ginning to feel that not all the chancels of the Crusaders 
 were a substitute for the kind of information which Dr. 
 Thistlewood alone could give him. At last, having 
 glanced at the clock and expressed a polite surprise at 
 the time having gone so quickly, he was about to make 
 the declaration, inevitable in such cases, that he must 
 not allow himself to keep his host up any longer, es- 
 pecially as there was no knowing when Dr. Thistlewood 
 would reappear. "I had something," he said, "of a 
 special kind to ask him relating to the case of that 
 friend of mine which we spoke about at the beginning 
 of dinner. But this must keep till to-morrow. I can 
 only hope that I haven't trespassed on your kindness 
 already." 
 
 He had hardly, however, finished his speech when 
 Dr. Thistlewood entered. 
 
 " I was," he said, " detained, and was afraid that when 
 I got back I might find Mr. Barton gone. I don't 
 know, Mr. Barton, if you object to sitting up late. His 
 
 447
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 lordship here, who is good enough to follow my advice, 
 generally goes to his bed an hour or so before I do, but 
 if you will come to my room we can have a little seance 
 there by ourselves." 
 
 "I trust," said Lord Cotswold when, in accordance 
 with this suggestion, he bade good-night to his visitor 
 with a very stately politeness, "that you soon will give 
 me the opportunity, not of changing your opinions for 
 you, but of explaining certain alternatives to them 
 which, in the face of such facts as those with which you 
 have been yourself confronted, will, when we are dead 
 and gone, be competing with them for the world's ac- 
 ceptance." 
 
 "Well, Mr. Barton," said Dr. Thistlewood, when Lord 
 Cotswold had taken his departure, "shall we come and 
 get to business?" 
 
 In his tone, Mr. Barton noticed, there was something 
 of dryness and command which had, during dinner, 
 been wanting to it. Wondering what this could mean, 
 Mr. Barton followed him. 
 
 "Now," said Dr. Thistlewood, closing the door of his 
 study, where a cloak just worn by him was disposed over 
 the back of an arm-chair, "we can discuss practical ques- 
 tions. Since I was called away from the dinner-table I 
 have made a discovery which will perhaps save you 
 trouble. I think that I know, without your telling me, 
 your reason for wishing to inquire into the kinds of 
 illusion to which the mind is liable from admittedly 
 physical causes. Miss Vivian has been the recipient of 
 some new mental impressions which do not, in your 
 opinion, accord with actual fact. You wish to assure 
 yourself that in this opinion you are correct, so that 
 you may, without doubt or scruple, give her your ad- 
 vice accordingly." 
 
 "By what means," said Mr. Barton, "you could have 
 formed so strange a hypothesis it passes my wit to con- 
 jecture. I admit, however, that it is, in substance, cor- 
 rect." 
 
 448
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 "Perhaps," Dr. Thistlewood continued, "I may vent- 
 ure to go even further, and surmise that Miss Vivian 
 conceives herself to have received some specific intima- 
 tion the contents of which, in your judgment, are doubt- 
 ful, or even obviously misleading. There my guessing 
 power ends. But tell me if I am right so far." 
 
 " I admit it," said Mr. Barton. " You are certainly an 
 adept at inferences." 
 
 "You must," said Dr. Thistlewood, "not be too quick 
 with your compliments. In the pocket of my cloak 
 there I have a book a very pretty illustrated book. 
 Let me take it to the reading-lamp. Will you kindly 
 come over and examine it with me?" 
 
 Completely perplexed, Mr. Barton did as he was re- 
 quested, and the book which Dr. Thistlewood spread 
 open before him was none other than the Visions of the 
 Saints his own present to Miss Vivian. 
 
 "You will wonder," said Dr. Thistlewood, "how I 
 came to be possessed of this. My answer is simple. 
 The patient whom I have just been attending was Miss 
 Vivian herself. Don't be alarmed. It's only the old 
 trouble. She told me again about what she calls her 
 morning dreams. This evening she was slightly agi- 
 tated, and longed for a good night's rest. Before doing 
 what I could for her I naturally asked her some ques- 
 tions, and it so happened that she spoke to me of two 
 visions not dreams in bed, but figures which she had 
 seen in church. To these appearances she has been at- 
 taching some peculiar significance, but she would not 
 tell me what. It is something, I conjecture, which ex- 
 cites your own disapproval." 
 
 "Perhaps," said Mr. Barton, "since so much has come 
 to your knowledge, I may without impropriety add to 
 it one further detail. Miss Vivian is inclined to under- 
 stand these manifestations as a command to her that 
 she should quit the Anglican and enter the Roman 
 communion." 
 
 "And such a command," said Dr. Thistlewood, "you, 
 449
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 an Anglican priest, naturally cannot accept as emanat- 
 ing from a divine source. You are, therefore, anxious 
 to find for it some natural origin. I can help you. To 
 me, as no doubt to you, Miss Vivian described both these 
 visions in detail. The first figure seen by her was habited 
 in a white robe, ornamented with a red braid which had 
 threads of gold in it. The second wore a hood and 
 mantle of very deep sky-blue. Look now at these two 
 pictures in this book Visions of the Saints. There 
 the two figures are exactly as Miss Vivian saw them. 
 The first has a picture on its breast. Miss Vivian did 
 not mention that. That detail is too grotesque, perhaps, 
 for the modern fancy to assimilate ; but there is the braid, 
 there is the white robe, and there is the Virgin Mary, 
 sky-blue from head to foot. Here, in accordance with 
 your own very excellent simile, we have a glass which is 
 normally a window, playing the part of a mirror, and 
 so reflecting images in the patient's memory as to make 
 her mistake them for external and supernatural objects. 
 I could lend you, if you like, an extremely interesting 
 book which gives a minute history of a number of sim- 
 ilar visions seen by Welsh non-comformists during an 
 epidemic of religious revivalism. These visions the 
 Saviour with His wounds bleeding, winged angels hold- 
 ing tapers, and so forth visions so definite that the 
 percipients never doubted the external reality of them 
 were found, in every case which admitted of precise ex- 
 amination, to be reproductions of pictures familiar to 
 the person in question. In Miss Vivian's case I have 
 discovered something more. You may possibly have 
 heard, without giving the fact your attention, that hyp- 
 notic conditions are producible simply by fixing the 
 eyes on some bright object. An object of this kind 
 played a primary part here. The bright object here was 
 the lamp hanging in your chancel. Miss Vivian, on each 
 occasion, before the vision appeared, had, as she prob- 
 ably told you, fixed her eyes on this. Gradually a state 
 supervened of which her recollection was vague, and 
 
 45
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 out of this vagueness the two figures developed them- 
 selves. I could tell you more about the details of this 
 psychological process which is probably the same in 
 the case of all ecstatics, from the Platonists of Alexan- 
 dria down to St. Francis and St. Teresa if such infor- 
 mation were necessary for your present purpose. I in- 
 cline to suppose, however, that what I have just said 
 will be enough for you. Miss Vivian's visions originated 
 in certain pictures which you yourself gave her, and 
 these her brain, under the influence of a specific stim- 
 ulus, presented to her consciousness as symbols of the 
 emotions which at the time dominated her. They mean, 
 therefore, as much as the emotions mean, neither more 
 nor less, and you may assure both yourself and her 
 that they have no other authority." 
 
 Mr. Barton listened with a feeling of profound relief 
 which was now and then traversed by a shudder of in- 
 dignant pain. It was evident that Dr. Thistlewood in 
 the present case was substantially right. The call to a 
 celibate life, and possibly to the Roman Church, which 
 to Miss Vivian had appeared as a divine command, was 
 manifestly nothing more than the creation of a disor- 
 dered fancy. But when Mr. Barton heard the voice of 
 the gross materialist degrading all visions to conjuring 
 tricks of the human brain, he felt that, in order to pos- 
 sess himself of the facts he sought, he had to kneel and 
 dive for them in a cloaca of reeking falsehood. At all 
 events, the liberating fact was now in his secure pos- 
 session. He would now be able, with a conscience ab- 
 solutely clear, to destroy that gateless wall which, sud- 
 denly rising in front of him, had threatened to divide 
 him forever from the soul and from the breast he loved. 
 
 "Well," said Dr. Thistlewood, eying Mr. Barton curi- 
 ously, " you told us at dinner to-night that you came 
 to the Turkish Castle in search of practical facts, not of 
 any general principles. You have had an instalment 
 of what you wanted, and perhaps you had better go 
 and sleep on it. But, my dear sir, before you go I
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 have something more to add. I have told you one fact 
 connected with this young lady's welfare, but I have 
 still to tell you some others, and for her sake, just as 
 much as for your own, after what I have seen to-night, 
 I must submit them to your close attention. You would 
 not wish Miss Vivian to fall ill again for want of such a 
 thing as proper sleep, would you? If you want to see 
 that famous real self of hers established permanently on 
 its proper throne, you wouldn't do anything to inter- 
 fere, would you, with her restoration to sound physical 
 health? I thought not. Well, if such a restoration is 
 to be achieved, it is necessary, before all things, that she 
 should, so far as is possible, be kept from anything in 
 the nature of excitement or emotional agitation. And 
 now, Mr. Barton, listen to something further which you 
 doubtless know already, but which you won't object to 
 hearing from the mouth of another person. For some 
 reason or other I need not inquire what the disturb- 
 ances to which Miss Vivian is liable have some intimate 
 connection with yourself. Your own conduct may, 
 therefore, if not very carefully controlled, be fraught for 
 her with the gravest dangers, and I want to-morrow 
 morning, either here or at your own house, to put cer- 
 tain details before you of which at present you know 
 nothing. Meanwhile," Dr. Thistlewood continued, put- 
 ting his hand in his pocket, "I have something to give 
 you it was better, I thought, to keep it until we had 
 done our talk which will probably be a fresh proof to 
 you of the truth of what I have just said. Miss Vivian 
 this evening was, when we were left alone together, too 
 much perturbed by something to be able to talk calmly 
 until she got it off her mind by writing a few lines to 
 you. I told her where you had been dining, and that 
 I should find you here when I got back, so she begged 
 me to act as her postman, and I now discharge my 
 duty. You will, no doubt, prefer to open her seal in 
 private. To-morrow, then, Mr. Barton, let us renew 
 our conversation here." 
 
 452
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 Eager to devour the letter which had thus unex- 
 pectedly come to him, Mr. Barton was almost effusive 
 in his promise to return next morning, and hurried 
 home through the darkness, taking his treasure with 
 him.
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 WHEN Mr. Barton, some ten or twelve hours later, 
 was ushered again into Dr. Thistlewood's study, 
 his eyes had a hope in them which seemed so assured 
 and high that sublunary delays and obstacles would be 
 powerless to disturb its patience. In Miss Vivian's let- 
 ter of last night lay the secret of this exalted mood. 
 While he had been wearing himself out in meditation 
 and in inquiry relating to her, she, it appeared, had been 
 led by the divine hand to a conclusion identical with his 
 own. She had written: 
 
 "I cannot rest until I have told you this: that you were 
 right when you urged me to examine myself very carefully 
 before putting any final interpretation on that which I have 
 seen and heard. No; I realize it now. I am not meant for 
 that special life to which it at first seemed to me I was being 
 called in so plain a way. The voice of the Sacred Heart must 
 speak to us through our own hearts. They must be its inter- 
 preters. You know my heart better than of late I have known 
 it myself. I felt that I must confess this before I could get to 
 sleep." 
 
 Dr. Thistlewood contemplated his visitor with a sur- 
 prise that had some contempt in it. 
 
 "Mr. Barton," he said, "you must be very easily 
 pleased. I've seen many lovers in my time, but I never 
 saw one who looked as happy as you do when the object 
 of his affections was in the gravest possible danger." 
 
 "Danger!" exclaimed Mr. Barton. "Good God, what 
 has happened? Tell me!" 
 
 "Sit down," said Dr. Thistlewood. "She's in no 
 danger of dying. Suspend both your hopes and terrors, 
 
 454
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 and give me your close attention. If I had not noticed 
 the expression of your face when you entered I might 
 have thought it necessary to ask you my old question 
 over again: Are you still seriously bent on making this 
 young lady your wife ? But your face has answered me. 
 Further, I will spare you the trouble of adding something 
 which I am sure you are longing to impress on me I 
 mean that the young lady, after a series of vacillations, is 
 at last learning to reward your affection by returning it, 
 and that her letter of last night gives you fresh grounds 
 for confidence. Let us assume that such is the case, 
 and that, if there were nothing to check you, you and 
 Miss Vivian, before many months were over, would be 
 standing in some elegant chancel full of flowers and 
 bridesmaids, and receiving the primal blessing known 
 to have been breathed o'er Eden. Well, you won't have 
 forgotten what I said to you about Miss Vivian before I 
 explained to you the secret of her connection with Miss 
 Enid Wynn. I told you as emphatically as I could that 
 she was not a fit wife for anybody. In spite of what you 
 have learned since then, you do not seem to agree with 
 me. I, on the other hand, am of the same opinion still. 
 I will, however, for the moment, modify my original way 
 of putting the case, and content myself with saying that 
 she is unfit to be your wife at present." 
 
 " Now," said Mr. Barton, " you are talking with per- 
 fect reasonableness. I will engage that you find me 
 not less reasonable than yourself." 
 
 "You must, then," said Dr. Thistlewood, "make one 
 momentary concession to me. You must allow me, 
 without interruption, to put things from my own point 
 of view. You, for your own part, are satisfied that the 
 lady whom you call Miss Vivian is the real soul, or self, 
 pertaining to a certain body, the other self being less 
 real or not real at all. And in this view you are sup- 
 ported by the language of the very men who have made 
 the question of the divided self their study. But these 
 men to whom you refer, and whose works I lent you, 
 
 455
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 allow themselves to speak, and sometimes even to think, 
 in a popular manner which is at variance with their own 
 principles. From a scientific point of view, no one of 
 these selves is more real or less real than any other, ex- 
 cept in so far as it is mentally more complete, associated 
 with a better state of health, and is, above all, more per- 
 manent. Do you," said Dr. Thistlewood, taking from 
 the table something which looked like a child's tin 
 trumpet amputated at both its ends, "know what this 
 object is ? This scientific implement is the work of Mr. 
 Hugo Arundel. who honored me by a commission to 
 solder one of its joints for him. It is a kaleidoscope, 
 and a very efficient one. It will show you, each time it 
 is shaken, some new geometrical pattern, but no one of 
 those patterns is more real than any other. Precisely 
 the same is the case with these divided lives. They re- 
 sult when the organism through which they are mani- 
 fested is unstable, and the ordinary, persistent self, such 
 as your self or mine, differs from them because normal 
 organisms like our own possess a stability which these 
 others the exceptions lack. The persistent, the stable 
 self bears to any one of these selves which alternate the 
 same relation that a tesselated pavement bears to one 
 of the patterns in Mr. Hugo Arundel' s kaleidoscope." 
 
 Mr. Barton reflected, and at last answered with a frown: 
 " If one puts your implications altogether aside, and 
 takes what you say as relating to the surface of the facts 
 only well, in that limited sense I don't know that I can 
 disagree with you." 
 
 "You at all events feel," said Dr. Thistlewood, "that 
 stability is so essential to a healthy self that you would 
 not wish, if you married Miss Nest Vivian, to know that 
 at any moment she might turn into Miss Enid Wynn, 
 and, for example, while she was standing by your side 
 at the altar, instead of the proper response, suddenly 
 treat you to those views of matrimony which Miss Wynn 
 on one occasion expounded to you." 
 
 "God forbid!" exclaimed Mr. Barton, sharply. "You 
 
 456
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 surely don't hint that such an occurrence is pos- 
 sible?" 
 
 " You might," said Dr. Thistlewood, " very easily make 
 it so. What I have just said I have said because I wish 
 to warn you, not because I wish to inflict on you any 
 speculative opinions of my own. Perhaps you will see 
 now that, in opposing your matrimonial project, I have 
 more to say for myself than you thought I had, and I 
 have not finished yet by any means. Do you remember 
 that time you came here and talked about the case of 
 Felida, and insisted on the fact that all Felida's selves 
 sprang, as it were, from a soil of the same general mem- 
 ories? And do you remember how I pointed out to 
 you that, in Mr. Hanna's case, this feature was absent ? 
 What I said about this matter requires a little more ex- 
 planation. For you, and for those who think with you, 
 self is the contents of the conscious circle of which the 
 ego is the indivisible centre. Well, in this sense, and in 
 this sense only, the divided selves of which we are speak- 
 ing are really separated from one another. They are 
 different flowers of consciousness, but they sprout out 
 of the same unconscious bulb." 
 
 "Precisely." said Mr. Barton. "That's precisely the 
 point I urged on you." 
 
 "I doubt," said Dr. Thistlewood, "whether you knew 
 precisely what you urged. At any rate, we may take it 
 that your matured view is this: that Miss Vivian, your 
 own soul's counterpart, is for you the one true personality 
 associated with Miss Vivian's body, and you wish that 
 body, with all the faculties pertaining to it, to belong to 
 Miss Vivian's soul as your own body belongs to yours. 
 Very well; this re-establishment of single self in a body 
 for a time alternately tenanted by two was accom- 
 plished in Mr. Hanna's case, as you very truly said, and 
 it might quite possibly be accomplished in Miss Vivian's 
 likewise. But have you ever thought of the risk by 
 which this unifying process would be accomplished ? It 
 never seems to have occurred to you that if one of the 
 
 457
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 two personalities succeeded in suppressing the other, the 
 one that came out victor might be not Miss Vivian but 
 Miss Wynn. You will have seen, if you have studied Dr. 
 Gonteau's notes carefully, that not Miss Vivian but Miss 
 Wynn was the first personality that developed itself. In 
 the second place, Miss Wynn's is the personality that 
 has been most persistent. For every eight months of 
 Miss Wynn's life, Miss Vivian has lived only five; and 
 while Miss Vivian's health has been and is precarious, 
 Miss Wynn's has been exceptionally sound. But that's 
 not all. I have something else to point out to you at 
 which I have not yet hinted. You remember the de- 
 scription which the other day, at luncheon, Miss Vivian 
 gave us of the odd dreams that had been troubling her ? 
 Among them were dreams of two railway stations with 
 grotesque and impossible names. One of these names 
 was Pog, she told us. The other, as you may remember, 
 was Kethar. Perhaps you will begin to see light when 
 I tell you that Kethar is really a portion of a name very 
 much longer, which is actually painted somewhere in 
 large letters on a board this portion being the portion 
 which alone, from a certain point of view, would be seen 
 by a passing traveller between a book-stall and one of 
 the station buildings. Kethar, Mr. Barton, is a portion 
 of the well-known Market Harborough. In the same 
 way Pog explains itself as a portion of another name 
 the name of a station which you have doubtless passed 
 yourself. Pog is neither more nor less than the first 
 syllable of Poggibonsi Poggibonsi being a place not 
 far from Siena. Miss Vivian's experience of England, 
 as you know, is confined to Southquay. The very name 
 of Market Harborough is in all probability strange to her. 
 She told me herself that she had never set foot in Italy. 
 But Miss Wynn has stayed near the first of these places, 
 and has passed through the station constantly, and when 
 I myself first set eyes on her she was not far from the 
 second. So you see that the materials of which Miss 
 Wynn is composed are lying not so very far below the 
 
 458
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 surface of Miss Nest Vivian ; and you need but give too 
 rude a shake to that delicate kaleidoscope of possibilities, 
 and the pattern which you love will go, and the pattern 
 which you hate will be shaken back again. Think of 
 what all this means, not in its theological bearings you 
 must settle that matter for yourself but in relation to 
 your projected marriage when looked at on its practical 
 side. Can you consider it fitting that you, an English 
 clergyman, should marry, not knowing what you marry 
 a something which may this week be devoted to your 
 Deity and yourself, and the week after may be blasphem- 
 ing the one and bringing ridicule or ignominy on the 
 other ? Come, Mr. Barton, be a man. Give this foolish 
 project up. Promise me on your word of honor that you 
 will cease to push your suit and never utter to Miss 
 Vivian another syllable which could tend to keep in her 
 any affection for yourself. Such an affection would 
 mean misery for you and her. If you won't promise me 
 this, I must do what I had rather not do." 
 
 "Dr. Thistlewood," said Mr. Barton, haughtily, "I 
 have listened to you with great forbearance. You have 
 told me certain things which it was doubtless right that 
 I should know, and for having told me these I thank 
 you. But when you demand a promise from me that I 
 will not marry without your canonical sanction; that I 
 will renounce the prospect of marriage a prospect which 
 need not be immediate; that I will withdraw or like a 
 coward shrink from renewing my avowals of that affec- 
 tion in which she has learned to look for succor I will 
 do nothing of the kind. Dr. Thistlewood, I have in my 
 pocket that letter which I received last night. Miss 
 Vivian in that letter shows that she is as sane as you are 
 that she is capable of calmly reconsidering her own 
 impulses, and setting them aside when she sees that they 
 have been mistaken or unduly rash; and do you think 
 it likely that I shall abandon her because a peculiar 
 danger threatens her, from which, as I have reason to 
 know, my support would be her best protection ? In all 
 30 459
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 reasonable ways I am willing to be guided by your 
 advice, but, instead of allowing her to suppose that 
 I retract the devotion I have offered her, I shall 
 do all in my power to assure her that it is hers for- 
 ever." 
 
 "You are," said Dr. Thistlewood, "a very obstinate 
 man, but before I exchange the method of moral suasion 
 for another I will make one further appeal addressed 
 to your common-sense. The lady, or the body of the 
 lady, whom you propose to marry has received already 
 three of the Christian sacraments baptism, confirma- 
 tion, and the eucharist. The child by whom these sacra- 
 ments were received was a child of whose life, of whose 
 beliefs, and even of whose existence, Miss Vivian knows 
 nothing. If Miss Vivian became your wife, would not 
 you, as a clergyman, feel some difficulty in determining 
 her relation to these means of grace? I can hardly 
 venture to hope that considerations of this kind, though 
 they go to the root of your beliefs as to souls and sacra- 
 ments, will deflect you from your present purpose. Still, 
 there is no knowing, and I thought it worth while to 
 mention them." 
 
 "I confess," said Mr. Barton, calmly, "for I am not 
 afraid of being candid, that these difficulties were felt 
 very keenly by myself, but on reflection they have van- 
 ished. I regard them as being solved sufficiently by a 
 curiously pertinent analogy. The grace conferred by 
 infant baptism is, as we all know, conferred on a being 
 which is unable to understand or profit by it. It lies 
 dormant, or germinates, as it were, in the child's system, 
 its results being not apparent for a period of some years. 
 In special cases, such as that of Miss Vivian, the grace 
 conferred by confirmation may well operate in the same 
 way." 
 
 "Your theory," said Dr. Thistlewood, "is also, I sup- 
 pose, a vindication of the substantial identity of the 
 two selves in question, superficial appearances notwith- 
 standing?" 
 
 460
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 "Undoubtedly," said Mr. Barton. "That I assume in 
 any case." 
 
 "Very well then," said Dr. Thistlewood; "we shall, 
 perhaps, come to an understanding. Your assumption 
 shall, for argument's sake, be mine, and from this point 
 onward I shall confine myself to bare facts. Miss Wynn 
 Vivian or whatever we like to call her received, dur- 
 ing that unregenerate girlhood of which Miss Vivian 
 knows nothing, three of the sacraments of your Church. 
 The number was three, wasn't it?" 
 
 Mr. Barton assented. 
 
 "Well," Dr. Thistlewood continued, "it is now my 
 duty to tell you that her experiences in this way have 
 been more extensive than you suppose. Miss Enid Wynn, 
 of whose life your prospective bride knows nothing, has 
 not been content with three sacraments. She has en- 
 joyed the advantage of a fourth ; and that, Mr. Barton, 
 happens to be the sacrament of marriage. Miss Enid 
 Wynn has a husband yes, a husband who is alive, and 
 who not so long ago was alive and kicking in Southquay." 
 
 Mr. Barton, with a violent movement, pushed him- 
 self back in his chair. His mouth gaped, and for a 
 second or two it remained open. 
 
 "Let me," said Dr. Thistlewood, "tell you the whole 
 story. If you care, at your leisure, to examine Dr. Gon- 
 teau's notes again, you will see how one thing fits in 
 with another. A rough outline of the events is all that 
 I need give you now. I first encountered Miss Wynn 
 in the train between Florence and Siena. There was in 
 my compartment, when I started, one other traveller 
 only an overdressed man with large, protruding eyes. 
 I heard him speaking Italian, but I took no particular 
 notice of him. By-and-by, at a side station, a third 
 traveller joined us a girl, evidently a lady, whose in- 
 dependent demeanor and somewhat masculine dress 
 caught my attention and made me wonder who she 
 was. I had, however, ceased to think of her when some 
 rearrangement of rugs, bags, and umbrellas began to 
 
 461
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 be made jointly by the other traveller and herself, and 
 I realized that the two were in the act of starting an 
 acquaintance. They first spoke in Italian. Ultimately 
 they took to English. The obvious good-breeding of the 
 girl and the obvious under-breeding of the man made 
 me wonder at the readiness with which she met his ad- 
 vances. Two days later I came upon this same couple 
 sauntering with a tender leisureliness in the public gar- 
 dens of Siena. The moment I saw Miss Vivian I was 
 struck by an odd likeness between her and this heroine 
 of Siena; but differences of dress, voice, manner, de- 
 portment, and facial expression rendered the likeness 
 less remarkable than the contrast. My second encounter 
 with Miss Wynn was at a small hotel in the Hebrides, 
 where I stayed a night on my way to a friend's shooting- 
 lodge. She had no recollection of having ever seen me 
 before. She was by way of being with some people 
 who had taken a forest in Ross-shire, but she was evi- 
 dently quite independent of them, and had come to this 
 place so she told me for fishing. Her name in the 
 visitors' book was entered as Mrs. Jordan. No Mr. Jor- 
 dan was visible that evening, but the following day he 
 arrived arrived in the primitive wagonette which was 
 to take me to my own destination. You may imagine 
 my surprise when I recognized him as the gentleman 
 who had enlivened Miss Wynn's residence at Siena. I 
 am not much given to gossip, but the driver of my 
 wagonette was. Mr. and Mrs. Jordan, it appeared, had 
 been staying under different roofs for some weeks in 
 the neighborhood, and had lately been married in ac- 
 cordance with the requirements of the Scottish law. To 
 this information the driver added a remark which I did 
 not catch at the time, but I realized its purport after- 
 ward. Returning a month or so later from my friend's 
 remote house, and happening to stay again at the same 
 hotel for a night or so, I learned from the local doctor, 
 with whom I forgathered over a glass of whiskey, that a 
 lady a stranger who had only just been married had, 
 
 462
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 under his auspices, given birth to a child; that the child 
 had been promptly committed to the care of a crofter's 
 family, had died in a day or two, and been buried ; that 
 the parents had attended the funeral, that the mother 
 had been heard to remark, 'This sort of thing sha'n't 
 happen again,' and that father and mother had disap- 
 peared by different steamers. Well, Mr. Barton, to 
 make a long story short, I have discovered that this 
 man Jordan, whose father's home is in Glasgow, and 
 whose mother was a native of Turin, had once been a 
 courier, and I know not what besides ; but of late years 
 he has, being a good linguist, travelled in Italy and else- 
 where in Europe for a Glasgow firm which manufactures 
 a cheap fuel from peat. What his relations with Miss 
 Wynn were at Siena I must leave you to guess. Any- 
 how, he saw reason to believe that she had or that she 
 would have money, and his marriage to her in a country 
 where marriage is exceptionally easy, and with whose 
 laws he was familiar, was the result. His wife, however 
 for she told me this herself took a very inadequate 
 view of the validity of a Scotch marriage, regarding it 
 merely as a means of getting herself out of an awkward 
 scrape. It was, in any case, for the time to be kept a 
 secret. The wife was to rejoin her friends as if nothing 
 had happened, and when she rejoined them the process 
 of regret began. Certain papers, which unintentionally 
 this gentleman had left in her hands, revealed to her the 
 fact that he had been guilty of business irregularities 
 which would, if brought to light, consign him to penal 
 servitude, and with this knowledge at her disposal she 
 was confident that she could keep him at a distance. 
 He, for his part, was not too anxious to obtrude himself 
 till some doubts which had arisen in his mind with re- 
 gard to her fortune had been elucidated ; and meanwhile, 
 as you will see from Dr. Gonteau's notes, those events 
 took place in the neighborhood of Market Harborough, 
 or Kethar, which removed her for the time from her hus- 
 band's ken altogether by transforming her into the angel 
 
 463
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 whom you propose to marry yourself. Mr. Jordan, who 
 was not without his plausibilities, might, having thought 
 things over, not have been inconsolable if he had not, 
 in the course of a holiday, happened to visit Southquay. 
 There, having improved himself into Count Giordano, he 
 was doubtless looking out for a fortune which was not 
 a speculation but a certainty. There, however, at a 
 ball, he happened to catch sight of Miss Vivian. Her 
 likeness to his wife struck him at once so forcibly that 
 he made, through Colonel O'Brian, such inquiries as he 
 could as to her family. What he heard convinced him 
 at first that the likeness which had struck him was ac- 
 cidental. He gathered, however, that Miss Vivian had 
 large means or large expectations; and then, when Miss 
 Vivian disappeared, and when, first on the golf-course 
 and subsequently in a motor-car, a figure began to be vis- 
 ible to him which at a distance was indistinguishable from 
 his wife's when he gathered, moreover, as he did from 
 Colonel O'Brian, that this new apparition was Miss Viv- 
 ian's near relation well, you can guess what followed. 
 He lay in wait for his wife, who first doubted his identity, 
 and was then determined to elude him. At last she 
 grasped her nettle. She met him by appointment at a 
 spot outside the town. She took him to a place about 
 ten or twelve miles from here, and there they fought 
 out their battle. As to the idea that their marriage was 
 legally valid, she laughed at it. Count Giordano con- 
 vinced her of her error. Count Giordano's wife, on the 
 other hand, convinced the Count that if their marriage 
 were known to her parents every penny of her fortune 
 would disappear; and she capped this announcement 
 with another, still more efficacious, and relating to the 
 proofs possessed by her of the Count's business delin- 
 quencies. Here, Mr. Barton, is a letter which, during that 
 curious time intervening between Miss Wynn's accident 
 and the transformation into Miss Vivian which followed 
 it, Miss Wynn confided to my keeping. It is a letter 
 from her to her husband, in which she informs him that 
 
 464
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 if he wishes to make any claim on her his claim must be 
 referred to me, I having been placed in possession by 
 her of all the necessary documents relating to his career 
 and character. But perhaps it will be needless to trouble 
 you with this characteristic epistle. It will be enough 
 to remind you of something which occurred when you 
 yourself were present. You will remember that Miss 
 Vivian, when describing to us her troublesome dreams, 
 mentioned, in addition to the railway stations, a church- 
 yard and a curious cottage. That cottage is the cot- 
 tage in which her inconvenient child lived. That church- 
 yard is the church-yard in which her inconvenient child 
 lies buried. I need add no more. I regret your ob- 
 stinacy which has forced me to draw the veil from cer- 
 tain facts unknown even to Miss Vivian's parents. I 
 regret your obstinacy, but, believe me, I respect your 
 pain." 
 
 For some minutes there was silence between the two 
 men, tragic for both, and for Dr. Thistlew T ood embarrass- 
 ing. It was suddenly broken by the entrance of Lord 
 Cotswold. Then, for all the surprises which Dr. Thistle- 
 wood had inflicted on Mr. Barton, Mr. Barton, rising 
 from his chair, paid him back in kind.
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 I HEARD," said Lord Cotswold, "that Mr. Barton 
 was here, and left him till luncheon - time to talk 
 over medical secrets. I have come now to say that I 
 hope he will not desert us, for he owes me the oppor- 
 tunity of finishing a certain discourse which I left the 
 other night unfinished somewhat to my own discredit. 
 The text of it, Mr. Barton, was the condition of one of 
 your own friends." 
 
 Mr. Barton greeted his host with an almost ghastly 
 calm. He had suppressed every sign of agitation. He 
 had even forced his lips to smile. 
 
 " Dr. Thistlewood and I," he said, " have been discuss- 
 ing that friend's condition. Painful, of course painful 
 from a personal point of view, but interesting to me, 
 as a priest, in respect to the problems suggested by 
 it. Yes, Lord Cotswold, I shall look on it as a high 
 privilege to hear something more about the interpreta- 
 tion that you and Dr. Thistlewood put on it. If, as I 
 understand and our friend here has repeated it to me 
 during the last hour how many times was it, Dr. This- 
 tlewood ? was it seven or only six ? that in your opin- 
 ion and his, and in that of the scientific world generally, 
 what we used to call the soul, and all the things we value 
 in it, are merely so many patterns formed by a kaleido- 
 scope called the brain if a woman's character is not her 
 character at all, but merely the successive gleamings of 
 a shot-silk dress worn by her it will be interesting to 
 me to learn how, when we are all convinced of this, the 
 business of life will be reasonably carried on. What will 
 become of our efforts, our duties, our principles, our I 
 
 466
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 won't speak of morbid emotions such as love but our 
 friendly likings for one another, without which we shall 
 be rather dull ? You began, I think, on this subject the 
 other night, but I was occupied then with some poor 
 matters of my own, and I fear I was not equal to grap- 
 pling with what you were about to tell me. I am quite 
 a new man this morning. I am ready to attend to any- 
 thing. You were talking about the Great Sentence a 
 sentence superior to anything extant in the Gospels. I 
 am anxious, Lord Cotswold most anxious to know 
 what that sentence means." 
 
 Lord Cotswold, somewhat surprised by Mr. Barton's 
 unwonted volubility, and a note in his voice which did 
 not seem wholly natural, was nevertheless delighted to 
 find him in this receptive mood, and as soon as they 
 were settled in the dining-room he took up his parable 
 and began. 
 
 "I agree with you," he said, "that these views as to 
 the nature of individual life but suggest to all of us 
 those difficulties which your language hardly carica- 
 tures. A view almost as strange was forced on the hu- 
 man consciousness when it was shown that this solid 
 earth, previously supposed by all men to be the immov- 
 able centre of the universe, was really one globule out of 
 many, all spinning round a central sun. But the human 
 race has at last become accustomed to this conception 
 of things, and with other changed conceptions even 
 with those of which we are now speaking it will one 
 day come to terms, and my own belief is, if I may say 
 so to a Christian priest, that the East will show the West 
 the way. Not, Mr. Barton, that I despise the ancient 
 wisdom of the West. I will not only Brahminize to you 
 in connection with the Great Sentence, but I will Pla- 
 tonize a little, too. You are a student, I am sure, of 
 Plato." 
 
 " Yes," said Mr. Barton, " I may claim for myself that 
 character." 
 
 "Let me, then," said Lord Cotswold, "make a start 
 467
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 with my Platonizing. For you the main foundation of 
 what you call the philosophy of spirit is the impossibility 
 of getting out of a complex mechanism like the brain 
 that unit, that pin-point, of consciousness which is what 
 we mean by self, and through which alone the world has 
 for us any existence. Now, a large part of the difficulties 
 urged in this connection by you and by all assailants 
 of what is commonly called materialism, was in my 
 opinion, answered by Dr. Gustav when he dwelt upon 
 that obvious fact, to which many scientific men are still 
 so strangely blind, that none of the phenomena which 
 they study are of any private interpretation that no 
 one of them is intelligible except in connection with the 
 All. The steam in the cylinder of the steam-engine is 
 impossible without the boiler. The vitality which mani- 
 fests itself in your brain and mine is equally impossible 
 apart from the vitality of the entire universe. The en- 
 tire universe, though to the eye or to the visual imag- 
 ination it is an aggregate of parts or particles, is for 
 thought, as Dr. Gustav said, a web of indissoluble con- 
 nections. If you compare personality to the gleamings 
 of a shot-silk dress, each dress is merely one fold of the 
 seamless garment of the All. Your own self cannot ap- 
 pear more absolutely indivisible to you, nor mine to me, 
 than is the oneness of the All when we think of it as the 
 sole self-existing fact; and when we so think of it we 
 are in the presence of God. Nothing is in you or me 
 that is not in this divine Total. If what we experi- 
 ence as personality exists in me and you, it exists in 
 the Total also but there in so large a measure that it 
 baffles our understanding. You remember Plato's al- 
 legory of the cave?" 
 
 Mr. Barton nodded. 
 
 "Plato," Lord Cotswold continued, "represented the 
 mass of mankind as dwelling in a dark cave and unable 
 to see the sun. Let me alter his allegory a little, and 
 suppose that, though not shut up in a cave, they have 
 their backs so bent that they are able to look downward 
 
 468
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 only. They can, therefore, never see the blinding glory 
 in heaven, but every morning they see an image of it in 
 every dew-drop. The individual drops evaporate; the 
 sun-image that was in each ceases; but next morning, 
 and the next, there are new drops in the place of them, 
 and the same unit of light is alive and divine in each. 
 What the dew-drop is to the sun's image the brain is to 
 the human self." 
 
 Instead of offering any objection to this way of put- 
 ting the case, Mr. Barton smiled, somewhat vaguely, 
 but still tolerantly. "Yes," he said "yes. That's a 
 very pretty piece of symbolism." 
 
 "And now," said Lord Cotswold, "I will, if I'm not 
 wearying you, pass from my Platonizing to my Brah- 
 minizing, and come back to the Great Sentence ' Thou 
 art That.' I agree with you, Mr. Barton, that it is to 
 the Western mind not very illuminating when enunci- 
 ated without commentary; but, with the aid of what I 
 have just been saying, I can now make it more intelligi- 
 ble to you. When the Eastern philosopher says to the 
 individual seeker for truth, meditating on his own 
 nature, 'Thou art That,' he means by his 'That' the 
 sum total of things from which in ordinary life the 
 'Thou' is accustomed to distinguish itself. There is a 
 story told of a great Eastern saint which will bring the 
 idea home to your sympathies as well as to your under- 
 standing. The aim of this man's life poor heathen as 
 he was, he did not enjoy even the privileges of a Chris- 
 tian dissenter was the achievement, as it was with the 
 heroes of your own Acta Sanctorum, of union with the 
 divine nature; and the story represents him as coming 
 again and again to the door of the Lord's heart, and 
 standing without and knocking. On each occasion the 
 Lord asks, 'Who is there?' And again and again the 
 saint answers, ' It is I.' But so long as he answers in 
 this way he is told that he cannot enter. At last a day 
 comes when the question, ' Who knocks ?' being repeated, 
 the saint answers not, ' It is I,' but, ' Lord, it is Thou 
 
 469
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 Thyself.' Then the door opens, and the saint and the 
 Lord are one." 
 
 "Yes," said Mr. Barton, "the saint and his Lord were 
 one. Precisely. Such a union is the object of all sanc- 
 tity." 
 
 "I mention this story," Lord Cotswold continued, 
 " not because it solves for you or for me all the practical 
 problems which, as you rightly say, will arise if the world 
 at large ever realizes that conception of the individual 
 which the division in the personality of that friend of 
 yours has at least presented to your imagination. It 
 does not solve these problems, but it shows that this 
 conception, to us novel, has been familiar to the mind 
 of a civilization far older than our own, and that it is ca- 
 pable of being invested with a profound religious signifi- 
 cance. I will say more. How does the Christian religion 
 profess to reveal God to us ? Through a" man through 
 the Word made Flesh. It is only through being trans- 
 lated for us into terms of our own nature that the In- 
 finite and the Ineffable has assumed for us any definite 
 meaning. What the Word made Flesh is for all of us, 
 according to your own theology, that are we all for one 
 another, according to these revelations which science is 
 now forcing on such of us as have eyes to see. In so 
 far as we each of us experience what we know as our 
 own selves, we experience and we embody the working 
 of forces which are part of the divine Infinite. In our 
 affections, whether friendship or love, we are parts of 
 that desire and will in virtue of which the worlds endure. 
 A part of our actions results from what we know as 
 conscious motive, and aims at a known object. Another 
 part of our actions and possibly a part much larger 
 results from impulses which lie beyond our ken, and 
 which, though they carry us on their current, we have 
 not learned the art of translating into terms of reason. 
 Into what terms of reason, motive, and emotion men will 
 translate their new knowledge of themselves as parts 
 of the universe, growing out of it and then disappearing 
 
 470
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 into it; how they will view such cases as that of Mr. 
 Barton's friend cases in which some personality, per- 
 haps loved by some one, dies the most indubitable of 
 deaths by being changed before our eyes into another 
 of this I know no more than Cato knew of the religion 
 that produced St. Francis. But this I do know: that 
 faith must follow knowledge not in the beginning, but 
 in the end. The conquest of new knowledge may be 
 rapid. The assimilation of it will be comparatively 
 slow, and faith will be bruised and molested by it long 
 before it submits itself to any confessed change. Mean- 
 while," said Lord Cotswold But a sharp sound inter- 
 rupted him. He had not observed that during the last 
 few minutes Mr. Barton, in an aimless way, had taken 
 up his knife and had been playing with it, very much 
 as a child might, and this knife had by accident dropped 
 ringing upon his plate. At the same moment a servant 
 announced a visitor. 
 
 Lord Cotswold turned to Mr. Barton with a rapid 
 change of manner. "When you lunched with me last," 
 he said, "we were honored by the unexpected advent 
 of a very delightful lady who was escaping from her own 
 cook. The cook has not improved, and the delightful 
 lady, on occasion, still finds refuge in mine. I'm sorry 
 that our conversation should be interrupted. I was 
 very anxious to tell you my candid view of the faith 
 which will not yield to the first onslaughts of evidence." 
 
 "My dear Lord Cotswold," said Lady Conway, "don't 
 get up, don't order anything back not even the tepid- 
 est cutlet. Let me have a chair next yours. That will 
 be feast enough for me. My dear man, I've lunched 
 already, so allow me to have my own way. Or, no 
 you've not yet had your coffee. You shall give me a 
 cup when the time comes, and, meanwhile, may I make 
 a suggestion ? I see here a person no, Dr. Gustav, it's 
 not you to whom I have something to say of a very 
 particular kind. Mr. Barton, I was on the point of 
 writing to you, but to talk will be much better. Lord.
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 Cotswold, may I take him into the drawing-room, and 
 we'll come back to you for our coffee afterward?" 
 
 In response to a look from Lady Conway, Mr. Barton 
 had risen. "Certainly," he said; "I shall be delighted." 
 With a gesture of dignified amity she laid a hand on 
 his arm, and the two passed slowly together down the 
 long room toward the door. Before they reached it her 
 communications to the priest had begun. 
 
 "I suppose," she said, "that a man with your means 
 and talents does not intend to bury them in the napkin 
 of a semi-fashionable watering-place?" 
 
 "You refer, I presume, to Southquay?" said Mr. Bar- 
 ton, with his hand on the door-handle. "Certainly not 
 certainly not. I've determined to leave already." 
 
 "What can be afoot now?" said Dr. Thistlewood, 
 when this strangely assorted couple had disappeared. 
 "Do you know that all the time you were talking to 
 that man at luncheon he was not aware of a single word 
 you said? Nothing would have surprised me less than 
 to have seen him drop down fainting." 
 
 "Good God," exclaimed Lord Cotswold, "you don't 
 say so! I thought that, for a clergyman, he was listen- 
 ing to me with unusual patience. What has happened 
 to him? Is he ill? Or has that case of his friend, 
 which you and he were discussing together, disturbed 
 him?" 
 
 "You say," replied Dr. Thistlewood, "that he lis- 
 tened to you patiently. That case has so disturbed him 
 that he is beyond the reach of impatience. Facts con- 
 flicting with faith, which, if the reason of the believer 
 views them from a distance, and as a spectator only, 
 are passed by and forgotten like the death of a distant 
 soldier, have entered this man through his own personal 
 sympathies and have torn him like an explosive bullet. 
 There is in his creed no poppy or mandragora which will 
 medicine him to his old repose." 
 
 "Indeed! " said Lord Cotswold. "What you tell me 
 is interesting. If his faith is mortally wounded I should 
 
 472
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 mourn for it as for a lost friend. But, my dear Gustav, I 
 believe that your fears are needless. In the case of men 
 like Mr. Barton faith is beyond the reach of wounds. 
 It may be stunned, but it will not die; and its life after 
 every blow will be yet more obstinate than before. 
 Obstinacy like this may to us seem the obstinacy of 
 folly. In part it may be so, but it is something else be- 
 sides. If logic, if reason, if evidence were the sole sup- 
 ports of faith, the old faiths by which men have lived 
 would decompose far more rapidly than any new faiths 
 could construct themselves. In times like these in which 
 our own lot has been cast the whole continuity of the 
 world's higher life would be broken if the churches 
 and men like Mr. Barton, who represent their spirit, 
 were not ready, in defiance of reason and evidence, to 
 protect the existing bottles while the new are being 
 slowly fabricated: and what the new bottles will be that 
 can hold your hopes and mine, or of what material they 
 will be made, neither you nor I can conjecture. What, 
 Lady Conway! Is the interview over already? And 
 where is your spiritual director? I hope you have not 
 frightened him away!" 
 
 "No," said Lady Conway, "but he's gone, and he 
 sent you any number of apologies. This fortune of his 
 has for the moment turned his head not with pride 
 I don't mean that at all but by worry over business; 
 and about business, as I know to my cost, most clergy- 
 men know nothing. But Mr. Barton will very soon be 
 equal to all occasions. He had thought everything out. 
 I was surprised by the clearness of his ideas and the 
 promptness with which he expressed them. This was 
 flattering to my own vanity. I have long had an eye 
 on Mr. Barton as fitted for something more important 
 than preaching to old women at Southquay and drink- 
 ing tea with them afterward, and now, with this money 
 of his, his equipment as an apostle is complete. I have 
 just been able to offer him the living of St. Stephen's; 
 the place is on our property, just outside Manningham. 
 
 473
 
 AN IMMORTAL SOUL 
 
 There are thirty thousand people in the parish, a mag- 
 nificent church to be decorated, mission halls to be var- 
 nished, and ten thousand Radicals to be humanized by 
 the ministrations of an ascetic Conservative. Mr. Bar- 
 ton leaped at the proposal. There was something al- 
 most uncanny in his eagerness. The bishop is delighted. 
 I wrote to him a week ago about it, and I sent him a 
 copy, cut out of a Southquay paper, of a sermon which 
 Mr. Barton preached here. I think it was on the sub- 
 ject of confirmation. The bishop thinks that Mr. Bar- 
 ton will be an admirable man for refuting some of the 
 professors at the new Manningham University, who at- 
 tack the doctrines of the Church, he says, simply because 
 they do not understand them." 
 
 THE END
 
 JfiSOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY 
 
 A 000137886 8