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 IIC^
 
 UGLY IDOL
 
 A DEVELOPMENT BY 
 
 CLAUD NICHOLSON 
 
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 ' A rs longa, Z'ita brevis est ' 
 
 LONDON: JOHN LANE, VIGO ST 
 BOSTON: ROBERTS BROS., 1896 
 
 *vu
 
 Copyrighted in the United States 
 Ail rights reserved 
 
 Edinburgh : T. and A. Constable, Printers to Her Majeity
 
 To my Mother
 
 I
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 Tins was the thoroughfare that Gilbert had 
 passed along for some years every morning and 
 evening ; yes, this was it, teaming with life ; — not 
 the politest. 
 
 The lights of all kinds of vehicles joggled, 
 flashed, flared backwards and forwards behind 
 the thin curtain of the fog, and broad, quivering 
 patches of light from the shop-windows lay on the 
 pavement. Lamps fringing the streets twinkled 
 away in all directions ; everywhere there were 
 cross reflections, a medley, a turmoil of shifting 
 lights. 
 
 A world of clerks, peopling the darkness with 
 red cigar-tips, chattered and giggled in the ecstasy 
 of the young life that wakes with the closing of 
 office hours ; costers, on business and pleasure ; 
 children with big baskets or broken mugs ; thin, 
 white-faced girls with small, very small, bundles 
 of work ; and other women with no work at all, 
 but open red lips agape over glistening teeth, 
 jostled each other on the crowded pavement. 
 
 Gilbert swung along mechanically, engrossed 
 in his own thoughts, a bad habit that had grown 
 on him recently, and he no longer noticed what 
 passed on either side of him ; with the callousness 
 
 A
 
 2 UGLY IDOL 
 
 of habit he walked every day upon the pavement 
 he had so hated a while ago. Yet this crowd, 
 coarse, roaring, pushing, swearing, repulsed him 
 still when he awoke to its reality ; sometimes he 
 smelt the hot air from restaurants, the odours of 
 tobacco and strong wine, and heard anew the 
 excited voices and suggestive giggles from within, 
 and turned aside shuddering. And yet, he thought 
 bitterly, the people that passed him were miserable, 
 like himself; one, here and there, — that shivering 
 woman, clutching at her meagre black shawl with 
 a bruised hand, — even tragic; others — that tips) 
 man, guided by a female urchin in laceless boots 
 — absurd. Or was the woman in the black shawl, 
 with her dirty face, her straining, gazing eyes, her 
 bleeding fingers, amusing also? No doubt. 
 
 Some six years since, he had torn down here, 
 assailed with that need of action — action, that 
 comes on a man in the height of passion; and 
 six months ago, vaguely aware of the throbbing 
 life that hustled past him, and swept along the 
 steaming pavement, he had stridden again, in 
 such a fine fresh anger as comes to us only mice 
 in fifty years ; that storms and swirls about the 
 roots of our being like some flooded river that 
 tears up trees in its herculean fur)-. 
 
 All this, of course, had ended in nothing par- 
 ticular ; his passions generally did. 
 
 Just now, engrossed in his own thoughts, and 
 far away in very flowery fields, he knocked by 
 chance against a woman, who seized him by the 
 arm and told him with a loud laugh 'to clear out 

 
 UGLY IDOL 3 
 
 of the vv'y of lydies.' He became conscious of 
 others of her kind round about, and fled in horror. 
 Vile street ! he had known it so long, and it never 
 ceased to repulse him ; he looked round him with 
 a new shiver of disgust. He was not of the kind 
 who become hardened to things they do not like, 
 nor yet of those who stand by and mark with idle 
 observance all the filth the gutter washes past 
 them ; his one defence was the garment of 
 dreams he tried to wrap about him. He was an 
 unfortunate person with ideals ; ideals, these ice- 
 creams of things of which boys take a farthing 
 lick before the)' discover how they are made and 
 how soon they melt. Then instead of doing as 
 sensible people do, and discarding them for some- 
 thing more solid, Gilbert stuck to his poor ices : 
 they were not very nourishing. 
 
 A swish of swing doors, a sudden roar of voices 
 and a gust of bad odours reminded him that he 
 was near the public-house at the corner. A bar- 
 man came to the door with a half-empty pot in 
 his hand, and asked briskly of a respectable 
 woman outside what she wanted. Gilbert did 
 not hear her reply, being too pre-occupied, but 
 his ear caught a burst of uproarious mirth, the 
 splash of the fluid from the pot and ' Ere 's a kiss 
 from me, ducky.' 
 
 He grinned sardonically to himself as he turned 
 away into a dark silent row of dwelling-houses ; 
 this very thing had happened to him in polite 
 society a few months ago. He had overheard 
 Graham whispering, so very wittily, his abomin-
 
 4 UGLY IDOL 
 
 able dregs of scandal ; he had splashed and 
 stained Gilbert to the best of his ability ; more 
 politely than the barman perhaps, but with the 
 same intention. 
 
 After all, he thought, there was nothing nice in 
 life, and why was one so desperately anxious to 
 live? Why did he, himself, love his life so much? 
 And then he smiled ; for he loved Agatha, and she 
 was life to him. Why was it a sin for him to love 
 her, when it was no sin for her to love Lester ? Ah, 
 pah ! he threw away the end of his cigarette : he 
 was going home, to his wife. Yes, he had a wife, 
 and he had married for money. lie said this 
 plainly, for he enjoyed being cruel to himself 
 sometimes, and wilfully ignored the fact that he- 
 had after all the best of the bargain. As he took 
 out his latch-key, he thought mockingly of the 
 many resolutions he had formed on that night 
 when he had gone to Agatha, and had paced up 
 and down outside the front-door. He had resolved 
 to be the dummy of others no longer ; he would 
 not give up all that was dearest to him in accord- 
 ance with his father's arrangements ; he, with his 
 artist nature, ambitious, restless, — and clerk at 
 Stanley's, — he would go to her to-morrow, would en- 
 force her attention, would cry to her that he loved 
 her, had loved her for many long months. All these 
 things he had resolved, — outside the front door. 
 
 He was a strong-willed man, but his will 
 manacled his own hands ; a passionate man, but 
 life had been hard to him, and the fool had 
 never dared to show his passion in daylight. On
 
 UGLY IDOL 5 
 
 a foggy night, freshly roused and insulted, he 
 could scheme earnestly the downfall of the 
 world : in the morning he was a clerk, trudged 
 forth to the office, and had other things to do. 
 With that prickly sensitiveness, so annoying to 
 other people, he was afraid on the morrow to hurt 
 his own tender soul or hers. 
 
 He turned his key in the door, and on enter- 
 ing was met with a pleasant warmth, an appetising 
 smell of dinner, and his wife. 
 
 1 Arc not you rather late ? I wish you would 
 try to be more punctual — it upsets the servants,' 
 she said, in that extremely good-natured way she 
 had of saying everything, and that took the sting 
 from any reproach. Then she waited beside him, 
 with round eyes and open mouth, expecting a 
 caress. She was accustomed to an affectionate 
 brother who hugged her and tom-boyed about 
 her with an unceremonious and apparent love 
 that suited her simple mind ; but this was not 
 Gilbert's way, and he was quite unconscious of 
 her disappointment, and the blank he left when 
 he hurried into the study to look for the evening 
 post, without a word of welcome or affection. 
 
 At dinner, with his eyes glancing side-wards at 
 the letters beside his plate, he asked what she had 
 been doing during the day, and received in reply 
 a little flood of news. 
 
 ' I saw father's new coffee-house in Portal Lane ; 
 I hope it will do as well as the others. I managed 
 to get the paint to-day for the mission-room texts, 
 and Miss Spears has started a sewing-club that
 
 6 UGLY IDOL 
 
 I looked in upon ; but I am already so busy for 
 the Sisters' Bazaar that I did not undertake 
 any more work. I am afraid Sister Francis 
 Secunda is passing away,' she added, in the 
 unctuous tone sh~ had learned from hearing her 
 mother preach in the mission-rooms. ' But one 
 must thank the Lord for deliverance in her case, 
 poor dear saijitly creature ! ' 
 
 This was only laughable in Ella, while it was 
 objectionable in her mother. It was odd, perhaps, 
 to hear this big, buxom woman, with her ruddy 
 face, big mouth, evident teeth, bespattering her 
 conversation with sudden religious reference as 
 other people use slang. She had grown up in 
 an atmosphere of religion, which was somewhat 
 mixed in her mind by reason of having her 
 mother's Salvation Army tendencies on one hand, 
 and her aunt's Anglican Sisterhood principles 
 on the other. She busied herself with all these 
 things as a matter of course, and without any 
 particular thought. It troubled her a little after 
 her marriage when she found that Gilbert was 
 much too busy to go to any but very exceptional 
 bazaars, and even her mother could only persuade 
 him to attend one of the very charming prayer- 
 meetings that were given in the drawing-room 
 once a fortnight. And Ella suspected that the 
 presence of the German ambassador and Mrs 
 Budd had accounted for his compliance. But she 
 had an equable nature ; she preferred sewing to 
 those meetings, and did not regret the circum- 
 stance much.
 
 UGLY IDOL 7 
 
 Her marriage had not made any great change 
 in her life. She saw very little of her husband, 
 and continued to district-visit and to receive the 
 same circle of friends as before. She lived in 
 much less opulence, of course, than at home ; but 
 the house was her own, and she mistress of it ; the 
 wife of a man poor, but with expectations. She 
 loved Gilbert, and saw him in the evenings and 
 on Sundays. In those circumstances there was 
 no reason why she should not be happy. 
 
 Once he had taken her to see some very odd 
 friends of his. He had known one, whom he 
 called 'Theresa,' all his life, he told her, and she 
 liked her better than some of the people she saw 
 there, who behaved in a very queer manner, it 
 seemed to her, and she owned frankly that she 
 did not care for them. Gilbert smiled. 
 
 'Very well,' he said, 'I will not press you to 
 know them. I dare say they will not trouble you 
 much.' 
 
 Since that she had, in her simple way, tried to 
 make him drop them. She distrusted them. 
 
 ' Where have you been ? ' — ' Why are you so 
 late ? ' — ' Are you going out ? ' — ' You won't be 
 long, dear?' — all those little questions conveyed to 
 him that ' they ' were absorbing too much of his 
 attention. He invariably had a crisp answer 
 ready, invariably did what he intended to do, and 
 his calmness baffled his loving wife. 
 
 But they got on very well together, and looked 
 very comfortable sitting opposite each other at 
 dinner, in their neat little dining-room.
 
 8 UGLY IDOL 
 
 'O Gilbert,' Ella went on, 'I saw that Miss 
 Humberston to-day. Isn't she an artist, or some- 
 thing of that kind ? Of course Uncle Laurence is 
 an artist, but he never comes to the house now. 
 He was really very nice, but I am afraid that he 
 was lost to the ways of righteousness. Oh, I 
 looked for that sock this morning in the bedroom, 
 but I had not time to mend it, or your coat. Do 
 you see this lovely fern I got to-day ? ' 
 
 So she chattered on, an endless flow of small- 
 talk, which is generally interesting to a husband 
 who has been away all day, and likes to hear of 
 what has happened during his absence. And 
 Ella was a person who made home bright. Big 
 as she was, she had a certain school-girlish gaucherie 
 of movement that gave one an impression of 
 youthfulness — not elegant, but frank and whole- 
 some. Her face had a freshness about it, too, that 
 atoned in the eyes of some for its plainness and 
 air of astonished simplicity ; her odd, loud laugh 
 was startling ; her heavy footsteps and manner of 
 banging doors also ; but these habits gave a taste 
 of life to the dull house. She had an eye for 
 decoration, and was at present painting the 
 drawing-room chimney-piece in a bold design, free 
 enough in touch to be artistic — unexpectedly so, 
 for nothing in her appearance led one to expect 
 such real taste and ability. 
 
 ' Come and see,' she cried to Gilbert, bouncing 
 from the table and running upstairs on the impulse. 
 She continued at the pitch of her voice from the 
 landing —
 
 UGLY IDOL 9 
 
 ' It 's not quite dry. I am afraid the dust is 
 sticking to it. Just call to Mary to bring me a 
 cloth. Mary! a cover, please/ and after all she 
 ran down to get it herself. 
 
 1 Yes,' said Gilbert, suddenly conscious that he 
 had not spoken much since he came home. 
 ' Really pretty, my dear, and very well done. 
 After all, you are quite an artist, Ella.' He put 
 his arm through hers. 
 
 ' I 'm glad you like it,' she said simply. ' Your 
 judgment counts for so much. I wish you would 
 draw the design for the door.' Then she laughed 
 — ' guffawed ' her father called it. ' Mrs. Leighs 
 called just when I was busy at it, and she looked 
 rather shocked. Of course I used to do most 
 things in the boys' photography room at home 
 after they gave up using it. When she turned 
 round to say good-bye, she swept the whole of 
 this poppy off, and I had a great business in 
 getting the paint from her dress.' 
 
 1 You shouldn't have told her it was there.' 
 
 1 Oh,' said Ella, to whom this had never occurred, 
 1 1 could not have let her go with it like that. She 
 is such a very good person, Gilbert, so charitable, 
 and has brought the Bible and the name of the 
 Lord to many poor boys for the first time. She 
 will never forgive me. I am afraid she thinks I 
 am not as good as I should be, and,' she added 
 meditatively, ' it was such a handsome dress, too, 
 — silk, — and it must have been very expensive.' 
 
 Gilbert laughed. ' The cause of her anger, I 
 dare say. If it had happened to any one else, she
 
 io UGLY IDOL 
 
 would have exhorted them to bear it patiently. 
 Never mind her. She is not worth bothering 
 about.' 
 
 Ella opened wide her mouth. This was entirely 
 against the principles to which she had been 
 educated, and it astonished her that her husband 
 should be such a good man without doing any of 
 the things she looked upon as necessary to good- 
 ness. So, without replying, she dropped the 
 subject, and reverted again to the chimney-piece. 
 
 1 Don't you think a bee or something there 
 would be a great improvement — a blue butterfly 
 would look very well ? ' 
 
 Gilbert's arm stiffened, and he frowned painfully. 
 
 1 No,' he said quickly. ' I 'd put a white one, or 
 a brown one, or — any colour but blue. Put a bee.' 
 
 He retreated from her, and she was astonished 
 to observe the veins swell on his brow as they did 
 when he was put out. What had she said to 
 disturb him ? She began to wind some wool, and 
 having, of course, no idea of silence, she asked, in 
 the act of dividing a skein, why he was cross. 
 Was he tired ? Why did he not take his medicine 
 if he had a headache ? 
 
 Gilbert, exasperated, was turning his head to 
 answer, when he saw something black with the 
 corner of his eye, and he bounded from his chair, 
 glad that an excuse offered itself on which he 
 could expend his irritation. 
 
 ' That damned cat in the drawing-room again ! ' 
 he shouted, and the beast, recognising its enemy, 
 fled through the door incontinently.
 
 UGLY IDOL ii 
 
 1 Gilbert, I wish you were fonder of cats ! 
 But I did tell the servants to keep it in the 
 kitchen,' Ella said with a sigh. She looked so 
 good as she said this, and it was so kind of her 
 to give up her own liking for the animal to his 
 dislike of it, that Gilbert sat down again, con- 
 science-stricken, determined to be pleasant for the 
 rest of the evening. Just then his dog came in, a 
 big, handsome fellow, wriggling all over with 
 happy recognition of his master. 
 
 ' Here you are,' he said with his laughing mouth. 
 ' Glad to see you. Had a good dinner ? So have 
 I.' He sat down between Gilbert's knees. 
 
 1 Well, old boy, what devilry have you been up 
 to to-day? I see a satisfaction and repletion in 
 your eye that bodes ill.' 
 
 ' No,' said Ella, ' I don't think he has done 
 anything to-day.' 
 
 'You are getting that all in a mess. Let me 
 hold it for you,' and Gilbert sat patiently for half 
 an hour while his wife disentangled the skein. 
 She chattered and laughed. Ah ! this good 
 Ella ; life would surely never be very unkind 
 to her. 
 
 So they sat close together before the fire, the 
 dog snoring peacefully on the hearthrug beside 
 them. This is how things should be after a few 
 months of marriage. 
 
 1 A little blue butterfly ' had got into Gilbert's 
 head, and as he went upstairs when Ella had 
 gone to her room, he said again and again to 
 himself, ' Petit papillon bleu, p' tit papillon bleu.'
 
 12 UGLY IDOL 
 
 He loitered down the passage to his father's 
 room. Inside here was all that he knew of 
 happiness, and sometimes it too turned to sorrow ; 
 a bitter grief swept over him when his father forgot 
 to love him, and he had grown to dread the look 
 in those eyes, the look that came and went. It 
 was curious to see this neat, precise man standing 
 thus, his hair almost singed by the gas jet, his face 
 drooping, thinking of a little blue butterfly and a 
 golden head in the sunshine. 
 
 Ella suddenly burst open her door, and issued 
 forth in search of matches. 
 
 ' If you were tidier, and kept things in one 
 place, you would know where to find them/ said 
 her husband tartly. 
 
 There could be no doubt that Gilbert was 
 developing into a martinet. He went in hurriedly 
 to see his father. 
 
 Mr. Strode was sitting in his big armchair 
 beside the fire, and the light shone brightly on 
 his silver ringlets. He was busy dictating some- 
 thing to Martha, an arduous task for both. He 
 could no longer write well with his trembling 
 hand, and Martha, of course, had never written 
 well, and poetry, above other things, she found 
 difficult to comprehend. Mr. Strode ruffled his 
 curls with one hand, with the other motioned 
 Gilbert to be silent, and Martha crumpled her 
 rugged brow painfully. 
 
 ' Now, did you put " when " on the next line ? 
 Bless me, make haste, what's the matter now? 
 I must get a secretary, Gilbert, I have said that
 
 UGLY IDOL 13 
 
 over and over again. How often do you intend 
 to forget ? You forget me altogether, you never 
 do a thing I ask you ! I must have a secretary : 
 it is of the greatest importance that my book 
 should come out ; and I suppose you have not 
 seen about it yet ? I believe you would like to 
 starve me ; you don't remember that it 's owing 
 to me that you are better off. Martha, is that a 
 blot I see ? Blotting-paper, quick, — must copy it 
 out again — how careless you are!' He gazed 
 about him irately. 
 
 1 Put it away in the drawer, and the pen : shut 
 the ink-pot : now hand me that book, no, that 
 one. Now, Gilbert, listen to this.' 
 
 Mr. Strode's eyesight was no longer very good : 
 but he thought the fault lay in his spectacles : he 
 took them off and wiped them, tried them this 
 way and that, and at last burst out — 
 
 ' I must speak to the doctor to-morrow ; that 
 man in the shop cheated me, and when I wrote to 
 him, answered me impertinently. You must get 
 me a new pair, — now don't forget.' He fidgeted 
 in his chair, and his ringlets hung in a quivering 
 halo round his face. Old face, aged by illness, 
 with an odd vagueness on it, in spite of its irasci- 
 bility. Ah ! this vagueness, Gilbert watched it 
 growing every day. Beautiful face, with its fault- 
 less outline, its little cross smile only wiped out 
 now and then by that flickering confusion that 
 came and went. 
 
 Gilbert knelt down at the side of the chair, and 
 took up the manuscript with a smile.
 
 i 4 UGLY IDOL 
 
 1 Let us go on from where we left off last night,' 
 he said, and began to read. 
 
 Mr. Strode listened, and a pleased smile soon 
 superseded his frown. 
 
 'Ah ! what do yoi: think of that ? Hush, more 
 slowly, — now — what, a word left out ? ' so he com- 
 mented as Gilbert read, marking time on his son's 
 shoulder. Gilbert also seemed interested, and 
 turned with a bright smile when he laid the 
 manuscript back on the table. 
 
 'We must make haste and get it finished ; but 
 a secretary would be a nuisance ; he would not 
 know your ways, you see, and we could not trust 
 him. I will write it out properly, eh, how will 
 that do ? ' 
 
 'Well, it might be better. But be sure you 
 make no mistakes. Do so many pages, and bring 
 it to me to correct every day.' Mr. Strode seemed 
 to think that his son was still a little boy, and 
 Gilbert did not mind, he enjoyed it. Mr. Strode 
 was about to speak again, when a sudden expres- 
 sionlessness came over his face, and he paused. 
 
 ' Er, what was I saying ? ' he murmured. 
 
 ' About this,' said Gilbert anxiously. ' Look, I 
 shall begin here, do you see ? ' He laid his hand 
 on his father's. ' You will let me do it ? ' 
 
 ' Yes, yes, my boy, of course. Now, observe 
 how busy your old father is, he has done some- 
 thing else to-day ! ' 
 
 ' Really ? Yes, you are always at something, 
 but don't work too hard.' 
 
 ' Aha ! ' cried Mr. Strode merrily, ' I always was
 
 UGLY IDOL 15 
 
 bus)-. I could not live without something to do. 
 . . . Just lend me a hand.' 
 
 He rose from his chair with difficulty, and 
 Gilbert guided him, holding him firmly and gently 
 by the arm. Martha, entering at that moment 
 with her master's supper, watched with a sad eye 
 Mr. Strode carefully feeling for each step, his 
 eager face forward, clinging tightly to the pro- 
 tecting hand of his son, Gilbert, as watchful, as 
 careful, peering down through his glasses at every 
 obstacle. 
 
 ' Can't think what makes me so shaky,' grumbled 
 his father. ' Never used to be like this. The 
 piano-stool, — careful — yes, that \s it. I composed 
 the music for the chanson to-day. You are sur- 
 prised, aren't you ? ' his merry laughter rang 
 through the room. ' I thought you would be, — 
 but what 's that ? Martha, don't make such a 
 noise, and put that down in the fender, to keep 
 warm. Gilbert, just see that the ashes don't fall 
 into it.' Gilbert placed the cup carefully, and 
 returned, and then Mr. Strode lifted a dainty 
 hand with a movement suggestive of lace-ruffle, 
 and began to play with his tremulous fingers upon 
 the piano. His head went to the music, he sang 
 a word or two, and Gilbert, at his bidding, 
 manoeuvred the pedals. Martha stood at the 
 table, still watching them as they sat side by side 
 at the piano, producing a music that was worth 
 listening to, for Mr. Strode never did anything 
 that was not worth listening to or looking at. 
 Every one acknowledged his genius.
 
 16 UGLY IDOL 
 
 ' There, you see, are the birds, — hush, softly, re- 
 member it is early morning, — tree-tops just gilded 
 with the first rays of the sun, everything else grey 
 and misty, — covers nottakenoffyet,you knovv,birds 
 waking, — that 's the stream, — go on, louder ' 
 
 Gilbert approached his short-sighted eyes closer 
 to the ill-written music, a proud smile upon his 
 face the while. If some one only heard these 
 compositions of his father's ! When they finished, 
 Mr. Strode turned to his son with a smile. 
 
 ' Charming, isn't it ? ' he said simply. 'It is a 
 long time since wc had a table-cloth opera ' 
 
 ' Yes,' answered Gilbert quickly. ' Let us have 
 one to-night,' and he busied himself about it, 
 pleased to see his father so happy and untroubled. 
 A folded cloth was laid on the keyboard, and 
 Mr. Strode played thereon without any hesitation, 
 never making a fault. It gave an odd, faraway 
 sound that was effective. 
 
 ' This is the angry father,' said Mr. Strode, with 
 an appreciative smile on his lips. ' Now this is 
 the daughter pleading.' 
 
 ' Now she runs off with the hero,' put in Gilbert. 
 
 ' Precisely, and meets with a misadventure, — 
 these agitated chromatics.' 
 
 So they laughed together over the piano, to the 
 wonderment of the old servant behind them, and 
 Mr. Strode was very happy. 
 
 A big cinder, sparkling suddenly from the fire, 
 fell with a great fizzing into the cup that had 
 been put there to keep hot. 
 
 Mr. Strode jumped from the stool nervously,
 
 UGLY IDOL 
 
 17 
 
 and would have fallen if Gilbert had not held him 
 safely. 
 
 'What do you mean by putting it there?' he 
 burst out. ' Your carelessness as usual, Gilbert. 
 I never knew a more handless, clumsy boy, — you 
 spoil everything, tear everything you don't break, 
 especially my things. I believe you do it on 
 purpose. Leave go, you will make me fall if you 
 hold me ; leave go at once ! You upset my nerves 
 completely, when I have done everything for you 
 too ! I shall tell the doctor how I am treated ! ' 
 
 He called Martha to aid him to his chair, and 
 he would not turn to speak again to Gilbert. 
 
 I Take him away, he does it on purpose; he takes 
 advantage of this rheumatism I have in my legs. 
 He declares I 'm ill.' 
 
 I I know it's only rheumatism,' he grumbled to 
 Martha, who said, yes, it was very annoying. 
 
 1 Get out of my sight,' he added, when Gilbert 
 tried to approach him, and did not settle down 
 until his son was out of the room. The loving 
 look died from his eyes, and turned to suspicion 
 and mistrust ; he was certain that every one in the 
 house plotted against him ; he was kept shut up 
 and told he was ill because he was in the way, — 
 oh, he knew all about it, his observation did not 
 go for nothing, — he said ; he saw, he would pay 
 them out yet. 
 
 Gilbert went down to his study with the manu- 
 script he was to copy out in his hand. He gazed 
 at it a long while, and sighed over it miserably. 
 Then he set to work upon it, but the pen twirled 
 
 B
 
 18 UGLY IDOL 
 
 aimlessly in his fingers, and only a big blot fell on 
 the paper. 
 
 He sprang from his chair, his veins all throb- 
 bing ; he strode up and down the room ; what was 
 the matter with him, — what was he going to do ? 
 
 Nothing, he was only wretched, miserable. 
 But so many people are miserable. 
 
 'Dog! Is that you?' said Gilbert, returning to 
 his chair, and becoming aware of a moist black 
 thing, a sniffing, muzzly, affectionate nose at his 
 elbow. He embraced the beast with the silly 
 effusion that comes of sitting up late at night, 
 and meditating in solitude over the littleness of 
 life, the coldness and dirtiness of the Thames. 
 
 ' Doggy ! ' said Gilbert, with his cheek against 
 a soft ear, ' dear old dog ! ' 
 
 Dolphin wagged his tail sleepily. This indiffer- 
 ence offended Gilbert, and he said, 'Cats!' to arouse 
 his uncaring companion. Dolphin at once bristled, 
 and every hair asked, ' Where ! ' ' You are a selfish 
 brute, too, you — no, don't look at me like that, I 
 didn't say anything.' Then he laughed, and then 
 his head dropped on the table. 
 
 In this house everything was quiet, with the 
 heavy, full silence of sleeping night. Upstairs 
 Ella slept the deep, sound sleep of a healthy 
 child. Mr. Strode dreamed of his manuscript, a 
 little pleased smile on his beautiful face. Down- 
 stairs, Dolphin snored peacefully, his nose between 
 two big paws, — Gilbert, his head on the table, cried, 
 cried ... to the tune of ' Petit papillon bleu, petit 
 papillon bleu' Ah, ah ! p'tit papillon bleu.
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 Everywhere was heat, — heat. A still haze lay 
 over the Campagne Saleve ; a great, glowing 
 yellowness glared on its white walls and the 
 dusty road outside, lay in a big sweep on the 
 lawn in front, scintillated in ridges of light on the 
 surface of the lake. The shadow under the trees 
 was very blue, the mountains in the distance very 
 purple, but a brazen sun poured its gorgeous heat 
 upon the world, and things ached and quivered 
 with excess of colour. The air was pregnant with 
 the buzz of insects, butterflies swung daintily 
 on the tendrils of the vines, and the wasps 
 quarrelled among the fruit-trees. 
 
 Spahi was stretched out on the stones in the 
 courtyard, guarding the big iron gate as usual, 
 snapping at flies, and panting, a long pink tongue 
 dangling from the corner of his black mouth. 
 Through the gate one saw the clustering roofs of 
 the old town, the glittering water of the lake, and 
 a ribbon of dusty road, leading thither. Jean- 
 nette's white cap bobbed up and down on the 
 roof under the awning, and one could hear her 
 humming and singing to herself as she sewed. 
 Then she entered into conversation with a man 
 in a cart who drew up with a prolonged 'Brrrri'ri' 
 
 19
 
 20 UGLY IDOL 
 
 outside the gate. At this, Philomene, who, like 
 Jeannette, was French, clattered over the stones 
 in her little glazed sabots, her red stockings peep- 
 ing out at every step. 
 
 Ah ! picturesque Philomene, whose red stock- 
 ings blazed in that sunshine ! 
 
 When the cart rumbled away, she pottered 
 back to the house with a great basket on her hip. 
 
 ' Mais, vous rCaurez pas Pier-re, 
 
 Iron, tron, iron, tron, bri, bri, bri, bri-6, 
 Mais vous tiaurez pas Pier-rc ' 
 
 sang Jeannette on the roof-top under the awning. 
 The children's voices were audible in the dis- 
 tance ; they were as usual in the little wood 
 fringing the high banks of the Rhone. But, very 
 often, Gilbert was there alone, under the trees ; he 
 watched the sunlight dancing now here, now there, 
 on the restless leaves that were never, even on the 
 hottest day, quite still. There was always a little 
 flippant flutter among them, and he wondered 
 what their chattering was all about. And what 
 a fragrance there was in the air ! he never forgot 
 it, that pervading aroma of roses and orange- 
 trees, of new-mown hay that was almost all flowers, 
 of currants and apples that came from the orchard. 
 He lay and dreamt all the long summer day on 
 the edge of the river-bank. Down below, it 
 sneaked past, that river, with the fast slyness of 
 waters that carry with them the secrets of cities ; 
 but it had also the rapid, rippling, onward gait 
 it had learned in the mountains, and only pro-
 
 UGLY IDOL 21 
 
 priety caused it to slacken and slip along oosily 
 as it neared the town. Just above where Gilbert 
 lay, the Arne joined it, white with the snow of the 
 hills, leaping and bounding tumultuously, a savage 
 with the mystery of black rockways largely writ 
 on him. Gilbert watched the Rhone, blue and 
 deep-bedded, the Arne, milky with snow, shifting 
 along uneasily side by side. And there was a 
 multitude of flowers about the banks, all colours, 
 all shapes, opening wide mouths to the busy 
 brown gentlemen that buzzed far and wide with 
 such official importance. ' Tickets, please ! ' it 
 seemed to him the bees said, every time they 
 alighted on the meek geraniums. There were 
 butterflies that swung airily on the tips of petals, 
 and very busy little spiders, irate, fussy little 
 beggars, altogether colonel-like in their behaviour. 
 The big flies would settle upon his hands to 
 perform their toilets, with the conceited self-con- 
 tent common to them. They wrapped their heads 
 in two springy fore-legs, they smoothed their wings 
 with two other legs, and then they wrung them all 
 in couples as a man does when he washes his hands. 
 Or else, he was not alone on the bank, but 
 Theresa would be there, spending her summer 
 holidays at the Campagne in order to learn 
 French, and she spoke English so that Gilbert 
 should not forget it. Lester stayed at home, for 
 no one but Theresa or his mother knew how to 
 manage him in those days, so she came alone 
 Agatha was there very often also, because she 
 lived a mile or two up the road, and came every
 
 22 UGLY IDOL 
 
 week with her mother, who talked to Clothilde the 
 whole afternoon on these occasions, or more often 
 with Mr. Strode in the studio. 
 
 Even then Theresa was a shrivelled person 
 with no pretence to beauty, whereas Agatha was 
 fair and soft, with poetic eyes that peered shyly 
 on the world under their long lashes. Her 
 dolls were great people, queens and princes, the 
 tangible embodiments of a wonderful romance 
 that occupied her complete attention. 
 
 She sat now, with her back against a tree, 
 surrounded by sundry limp or very stiff dolls, that 
 extended their arms with the beaming effusiveness 
 or lay in the drunkly sentimental attitudes peculiar 
 to persons of their construction. Ah well ! those 
 sad dollies have been shut up now in a cupboard, 
 side by side with other relics, and much sunshine 
 has been locked away in their flaxen hair. Agatha, 
 dreamy-eyed, has fingered musty morsels of silk — 
 oh, it was nice when there were dolls in the world, 
 and Monsieur Polichinelle clapped his hands in 
 one's face and shook his humps merrily. 
 
 Ah 
 Ah 
 Ah 
 Ah 
 Ah 
 Ah 
 
 Monsieur Po ! — 
 Monsieur Li ! — 
 Monsieur Chi ! — 
 Monsieur Nelle ! — 
 M. Polichi — polichinelle !- 
 M. Polichinelle !— 
 
 where are you now? 
 
 Gilbert had possessed himself of a doll, and was 
 watching its waxen tears, produced by the sun, 
 with great satisfaction.
 
 UGLY IDOL 23 
 
 'It's a pity,' soliloquised Agatha, ' that Prince 
 Charlie hasn't got any braces to his drawers. 
 Men always have them. Have yours got braces, 
 Bertie?' 
 
 'No.' 
 
 ' Oh,' said Agatha, with great disappointment, 
 ' then you aren't a man.' 
 
 ' I am a man,' he shouted angrily. ' Father 
 doesn't wear them, and look how strong I am ! ' 
 with that he stuck his fist slap against her chest 
 and made her cough. She did not cry, but was 
 about to apologise, when Theresa, fearing a 
 quarrel, called out sharply — 
 
 ' Oh, do take care, or the sawdust '11 come out.' 
 
 ' She 's not made of sawdust,' said Gilbert, 
 already smiling an ingratiating smile, that saved 
 him many punishments. He smiled most when 
 in disgrace, and had an air of being furtively 
 proud of his sins that delighted Mr. Strode. 
 
 ' I know,' answered Theresa, who, as usual, had 
 spoken first and thought after. ' But something 
 would have happened.' 
 
 ' I say, Piggie, this doll is crying,' was his next 
 remark. 
 
 'Oh, that's Victoria Jane: she dies young. 
 I made it that way because she always did look 
 sad.' 
 
 ' It's because you stuff her every morning with 
 bread and milk, and it goes sour,' said Theresa 
 meditatively. 
 
 1 No, — but look — how jolly ! — they 're rolling 
 down her cheeks.'
 
 24 UGLYIDOL 
 
 ' Oh, you are a horrid thing ! I '11 never forgive 
 you, — never. She 's melting ! ' 
 
 Agatha sobbed, and Gilbert looked a little 
 contrite, still watching Victoria Jane's dolorous 
 face with the corner of his eye and secret satis- 
 faction. 
 
 'You can make it consumption,' suggested 
 Theresa. 
 
 1 What 's that ? ' 
 
 ' Oh, something you die of slowly,' she ex- 
 plained vaguely. 
 
 This satisfied Agatha, and Gilbert, wishing to 
 atone for his brutality, began to weave a new 
 romance about the unresponsive persons of these 
 dolls. 
 
 ' Let 's pretend that this one is a crusader.' 
 
 ' Let 's pretend ! ' that is the ' open sesame ' to 
 the wonderful world, where everything is as one 
 wishes it to be, where one hears what one wants 
 to hear, sees what one wants to see. What a 
 sun shines ! what adventures come to one ! — so 
 easily. A pinafore turned inside out is a robe of 
 satin, a gnarled branch a prancing steed. How 
 one works, how one labours, all day long ! what 
 a lot there is to do ! How brows are creased in 
 thought over the plans of battles that are fought 
 by soldiers whose heads come off, and the less 
 accomplished infantry, whose only way of dying 
 is to topple ungracefully sideways ! And Gilbert's 
 soldiers had only profiles, so that he found it 
 necessary to pretend that they died with their 
 wounds in front, and Agatha came to bury them,
 
 UGLY IDOL 25 
 
 singing the Marseillaise, with many tears for the 
 noble heroes glistening in her eyes. 
 
 i This one,' concluded Gilbert excitedly, 
 
 ' should die now. What a pity its lids don't come 
 down ! ' 
 
 ' But heaps of people die with a glassy stare,' 
 said Theresa. 
 
 So the afternoon passed away, and the great 
 hot sun dropped down behind the trees, whose 
 black outline traced a landscape that attracted 
 Gilbert's quick imagination. 
 
 1 1 say ' he began, when Theresa interrupted 
 
 him. 
 
 ' Oh bother, — it 's time ! ' she said, and they all 
 sighed. 
 
 ' Mais voyons ! ' cried a deep voice behind them, 
 and on the path stood Jeannette, her ample person 
 filling the space between the mulberry-bushes. 
 In fact, at that distance, one might easily have 
 mistaken her for a tub with a towel hung to 
 dry over one of its rotund sides, a long-handled 
 mop projecting above it. She gesticulated with 
 vivacity, and her thimble flashed in the sun. 
 She wore very loose soft slippers, and did not 
 care to walk much. She therefore shouted — 
 
 1 Voyotis, M. Guilbert I la collation ! C'est servi 
 — que fait es vous Id ? dites done ! Venez vite, Men 
 vite> voyons 1 ' 
 
 The children approached, and Jeannette mar- 
 shalled them before, her black brows drawn 
 together in their usual fierce frown. 
 
 1 Qu'est-ee que c'est que vous avez Id sur voire
 
 26 UGLY IDOL 
 
 tablier? Oh la, Id, la pauvre poupee ! Je n'ai 
 jamais vu des enfants si mediants, jamais, jamais. 
 Mais voyofis, pas de betises — dame ! Mademoiselle, 
 pas si vite, — marches done a vies cotes, voyons ! ' 
 
 Jeannette continued to converse in this manner 
 until they reached the drawing-room steps, where 
 Clothilde was sitting, working quietly as usual. 
 These steps were so wide as to form almost a 
 terrace, and at each end stood the orange-trees, 
 wafting a dainty fragrance abroad on the cooling 
 air. 
 
 'Ah? here's M. Ic filsT Mr. Strode cried, 
 coming out into the sunlight, his golden beard 
 and hair shining under his hat. Gilbert ran to 
 meet him. 
 
 1 father, where have you been ? Why did 
 you go without me? Did you paint anything? 
 Do let us see. What jolly cakes ! I 'm so hungry.' 
 
 1 Chicken and ham and pots of jam, that 's all 
 you think of, greedy ! ' 
 
 They sat down together in the same chair, and 
 found much to say to each other, and much to 
 laugh at. 
 
 Mr. Strode was followed by Mrs. Yorke, who 
 came with a soft ripple of lace and silk. A most 
 charming little woman, who always ornamented 
 the situation in which she was placed. 
 
 ' How dreadfully untidy you are, my child ! 
 Really, it is quite time we went home,' she said, 
 aimlessly smoothing Agatha's hair from her fore- 
 head. ' I wish I had a boy ; Gilbert, even when he 
 is dirty and untidy, always looks so nice.'
 
 UGLY IDOL 2y 
 
 'But consider the hot-water this youngster 
 keeps me in ; I always get the lion's share of his 
 scrapes,' and Mr. Strode glanced across at his 
 wife mischievously. 
 
 ' Because you are the lion, of course. Always 
 busy, Clothilde, I never knew such creatures ! one 
 can't come here without finding you both as busy 
 as possible. And yet you seem happy ! ' she 
 paused on the steps, the lace edge of her parasol 
 framing her piquant little face. 
 
 1 Busy doing nothing generally,' murmured 
 Clothilde. 
 
 ' Yes, but what a happy existence ! Think of 
 me, who am bored when I am busy.' 
 
 'You do not look so just now.' 
 
 ' Oh I am never bored Ziere' she replied gush- 
 ingly, and Mr. Strode laughed. With a final 
 wave of the parasol she disappeared, and her 
 little Victoria was heard to drive away. She 
 had forgotten Agatha, who stayed to tea, and 
 was taken home later by the concierge. 
 
 Gilbert sat silent beside his father, after the 
 first spasm of chatter, and kept his eyes fixed on 
 this handsome face, watching its every expression, 
 every movement. He was perhaps vaguely 
 conscious of the green lawn, in shadow now, 
 edged all round with flowers and bushes, that 
 scented the air delicately ; of the steps, still in 
 the sunshine, with his father sprawling all his 
 length in a bath of light ; of his dark, quiet mother 
 in the shade of the doorway ; and of the little table 
 laid out with dainty china, one of Mr. Strode's
 
 28 UGLY IDOL 
 
 innumerable fancies ; of the still afternoon land- 
 scape beyond, alive with that quiet movement of 
 things that precedes the silence of the evening, 
 that far-away tinkle of cows in the valley, the 
 'brrrrrre'!' of the peasant to his horses, the 
 last clank of the anvil in the smithy, the busy 
 clatter of sabots in the courtyard, the six-o'clock 
 Angelus of the Roman Catholic church in the 
 town — perhaps he was aware of it all. After- 
 wards it came back to him very vividly, all 
 wrapped in that golden sunshine, and with the 
 peculiar fragrance of old things, the aroma that 
 lingers round remembrances and makes them 
 sweet. The smell of life when it was new ; yes, 
 the smell of it . . . 
 
 A happy boy, — Gilbert. 
 
 And he had the happiest of fathers. The 
 somewhat unsatisfactory state of his pecuniary 
 affairs did not prevent Mr. Strode from enjoying 
 himself to the utmost. He taught this to Gilbert, 
 who learned his lesson readily. But then he 
 adored his father rather as some idol than any- 
 thing quite human, and Mr. Strode served as the 
 peg from which depended all the different garbs 
 of his imaginings. Thus his father was succes- 
 sively a Viking, a knight, a crusader, a red Indian, 
 or Wellington, and all of these had the golden 
 hair, the tall figure of the well-loved father. He 
 drew them in chalk on the scullery wall, and when 
 Jeannette came with a fierce frown and a broom 
 to sweep them off, he smiled charmingly, and 
 chalked moustaches on her face with such an im-
 
 UGLY IDOL 29 
 
 pudent grace, that she retired with the conviction 
 that he would be a great artist some day. 
 
 ' Qu'est-ce que tu me chantcs la, va ! Tu me 
 fais perdre le temps ! Babillard ! ' she growled as 
 she disappeared. 
 
 A most charming place, this Campagne Saleve, 
 with its gardens, its orchards, its orange-trees ; 
 its beautiful or grotesque treasures, that it had 
 pleased Mr. Strode to collect at one time or 
 another. 
 
 An exquisite miniature of a place this, and life 
 sparkled there with the highest polish ; the polish 
 that cracks most easily. 
 
 ' Pleasure, — always pleasure ! ' cried Mr. Strode, 
 and he spent his existence seeking for it ; it was 
 to him so essential that it became a most serious 
 matter, almost a trouble. Pleasure is a snail of 
 a creature, and he recedes into his shell from the 
 hand that would grasp him. But to Gilbert, who 
 looked as children look, with his outside eyes at 
 the outside of things, the sun did not speckle with 
 too long a staring, the snail did not draw in its 
 horns, for he did not try to catch them. He saw 
 only the beauty of his surroundings, and was con- 
 tent therewith. He felt the warmth of the sun and 
 heard the birds sing. Who would want more ? 
 
 When he woke in the morning, he laughed with 
 sheer joy for the life that was in him ; and in the 
 hall there was his father laughing too, playing 
 with his dogs. 
 
 ' Bon/our, bonjour, M. le fils ! ' cried this merry 
 gentleman.
 
 3 o UGLY IDOL 
 
 1 Bonjour, bonjour, bon petit pere adore!' re- 
 turned the son in the jargon of French children. 
 
 Mephistopheles smiled also, looking at this 
 pastille, this exquisite dainty little picture. 
 
 Then, all day long, nothing but a busy enjoy- 
 ment of pleasure. Clothilde sat in the shade of 
 the great tree on the lawn, conversing with Mr. 
 Strode through the wide-open studio window. 
 The children came and went, and Jeannette's 
 sonorous ' Voyons /' sounded in the distance. 
 Gilbert appeared now and then from some far 
 corner, and raised a hot excited face to the head 
 in the window, and he received more than his fair 
 share of attention. He was a delightful play- 
 thing, not old enough to be tiresome and a 
 trouble ; and of course he brought his scraps of 
 news to the big play-fellow who took so much 
 interest in all his doings. Clothilde was only a 
 shadow in the background of his life ; one of the 
 many things that existed, but to which he paid 
 no great attention, just at that moment. He 
 loved her a little less than any one else, because 
 it was she only who punished him. Or Mr. 
 Strode himself was about the garden, or in the 
 ' piggery ' they had built behind the shrubs. He 
 was always bus)-, so busy, a business that resulted 
 in clever sketches, scraps of verse, a song, some 
 figure in wax or clay, which was the model of a 
 great statue that he was always too busy to b< 
 just as his sketches were the ideas for big pictures 
 he had never time to finish. Every one, of course, 
 acknowledged his genius, admired these very
 
 UGLY IDOL 31 
 
 clever beginnings, and waited for that something 
 very great which was to make him famous. 
 
 Every now and then there were excursions on 
 the lake, up the mountains, or butterfly hunts. 
 On these occasions Clothilde selected a spot for 
 lunch, and stayed to boil kettles and so on ; Mrs. 
 Yorke, fresh, fair, indolent, graced the meal, the 
 only cool, ornamental person present. She was 
 always as cool and sparkling as iced champagne ; 
 an indispensable element in parties of this kind. 
 
 On one of these hunts they had settled down 
 under the shade of the trees, only Mr. Strode as 
 usual out in the sun. Clothilde, tired with her 
 exertions, sat well in the shade, the green of the 
 wood giving her white face, pensive, almost sad, 
 an odd ghostlincss. Mr. Yorke was busy turning 
 over the contents of his box, Mrs. Yorke, lolling 
 in a little arm-chair of moss, was busy talking 
 nonsense with Mr. Strode, and Gilbert was dis- 
 cussing a serious question with Agatha. 
 
 ' Oh, he is a nice enough man, a soldier, ' Mrs. 
 Yorke was saying; 'one of those men who is all 
 moustache, and who spends his life combing it. 
 He is dreadfully attached to his wife.' 
 
 1 Don't you want anything to eat, you people?' 
 called Yorke, waving a tin. ' Do you exist alto- 
 gether on sunshine, Strode ? ' 
 
 ' Or you on scientific muck? Believe me, your 
 dirty complexion is due to grubbing in horrid 
 earthy holes.' 
 
 1 Knowledge,' began Yorke sententiously. 
 
 1 Knowledge ! Eruption of an over-cultured
 
 32 UGLYIDOL 
 
 mind. Pimples one's healthiness of thought, and 
 one's visage.' 
 
 They laughed. Gilbert and Agatha paid no at- 
 tention to this conversation. Gilbert was saying — 
 
 ' I like the blue ones.' 
 
 ' 1 like the white one's. They are like little 
 ships,' Agatha replied. 
 
 ' No, the blue ones are like flakes of sky, 
 dropped down, don't you see ? Only it 's a pity 
 to kill them. Suppose we let them go ? ' 
 
 ' Oh no, I get a penny for twelve.' 
 
 'Well, Piggie, that-'s beastly of you. You 
 wouldn't care to be pinned to a board.' 
 
 This thought brought tears to Agatha's eyes. 
 
 ' Do you really like the blue ones best ? ' 
 
 « Oh yes.' 
 
 'Then so do I,' she whispered softly, preferring 
 to have her ideas guided by some one else. 
 
 ' Look ! ' shouted Gilbert suddenly. ' Come on, 
 Piggie, hurry up, there's a beauty, ever so big ! ' 
 
 He bounded away with an irrelevant desire to 
 catch it, even though he would let it free the 
 minute it was in his net. Mr. Strode looked up 
 and laughed. 
 
 ' So ! chasing a blue butterfly ! You are be- 
 ginning early, boy, and may you catch it. One 
 does not generally catch a papilloi bleu' 
 
 'Oh I don't know, don't be so dreadfully 
 melancholy ; there are some people who come 
 up to their ideals.' 
 
 ' Really ! I never meet them.' 
 
 ' One knows that you are a proverbial chaser of
 
 UGLY IDOL 33 
 
 ideals ; but do you mean to say you never caught 
 one?' 
 
 At that he only laughed. 
 
 1 Quite happy without them,' he murmured. 
 1 Catch it, Gilbert. Look out, boy, don't let him go.' 
 
 The blue butterfly sailed away. It fluttered 
 tranquilly out of reach over the hill. Adieu, adieu, 
 petit papillon bleu ! 
 
 'I'll give you all mine,' said Gilbert disap- 
 pointed, and Agatha for a long time treasured a 
 boxful of blue butterflies ; and he, he had given 
 his away, and the other had flown off. He was 
 still chasing it. 
 
 Later, Agatha showed a tendency towards 
 religion, which generally grew stronger after some 
 quarrel with her governess, and which was apt to 
 wane when more interesting matters claimed her 
 attention. Her father was an Atheist, who, after 
 the fashion of his kind, thrust his theories under 
 all noses, regardless that the smell thereof was dis- 
 tasteful to many nostrils. Her mother tolerated 
 complacently a Roman Catholic French nurse 
 and a Protestant English governess, being too 
 indolent to dispense with either until her husband 
 should discover this mixture of creeds. Agatha, 
 who generally inclined towards her nurse's re- 
 ligion, invariably adopted it in opposition to her 
 governess at times of war. 
 
 She went one afternoon in a strongly Roman 
 Catholic frame of mind to recount the history of 
 a recent battle, and to be consoled by Gilbert. 
 
 ' Hullo ! ' he said. 
 
 C
 
 34 UGLY IDOL 
 
 1 1 got out at the window; Miss Gray locked me 
 in. It doesn't matter. Father never minds what 
 I do with her.' 
 
 She stood silent a while, watching him as he 
 mended the rabbit coop. 
 
 ' Do you believe in God ? ' she asked abruptly. 
 
 He had not thought about the matter at all, so 
 answered promptly — 
 
 ' Yes.' 
 
 1 1 don't. I believe in the Virgin Mary. She 
 is ever so pretty, and she has got lots of tapers 
 lighted under her.' 
 
 ' It must be awfully hot,' said Gilbert with 
 boyish profanity. 
 
 1 It's only her picture, and anyway that's very 
 wicked. You should do a penance, you should 
 "venerate" her. That's what you always do to 
 the Virgin.' 
 
 Gilbert, with his hat tilted back, looked as if 
 the conversation were not much to his taste, but 
 still he smiled as usual. Agatha flung her fair 
 plait over her shoulder, an action that generally 
 prefaced some request. 
 
 1 Bertie, I wish you would paint me a nice little 
 Virgin, like Jeannette's, to hang on the wall.' 
 
 ■ Humph ! ' 
 
 Agatha put her arm through his, and rubbed 
 her head against his shoulder. In this way she 
 always conquered him, it made him feel particu- 
 larly masculine and big. 
 
 ' All right then, Piggie,' he said good-naturedly, 
 pulling her hair affectionately.
 
 UGLY IDOL 35 
 
 They went to the studio, where he rummaged 
 among his father's paint-boxes, swept impeding 
 sketches off a small easel, and with many 
 flourishes, said he was ready. 
 
 I It 's very difficult,' he remarked, determined to 
 get his full meed of praise. 
 
 I I know, but you can do it. You will be an 
 awfully great painter some day, won't you ? ' 
 
 ' Oh yes.' 
 
 1 Then, I '11 marry you.' 
 
 This was a new idea to Gilbert, and he thought 
 over it a long time in silence. Then he laughed, 
 and the sound floated pleasantly through the 
 house. 
 
 1 All right, I don't mind,' he said at last. ' And 
 you 'd marry me even if I weren't a very great 
 artist, wouldn't you ? ' 
 
 ' Oh no,' she answered, without the faintest 
 hesitation. 'Just think, Bertie, how lovely it 
 must be to be really great ! ' and she narrowed 
 her eyes, dreaming of Fairyland thrones and 
 cloth-of-gold. 
 
 'But if,' said Gilbert, almost in a whisper, 'if 
 I were as great as father ? ' 
 
 'Oh, you would have to be ever so much 
 more renowned than that/ she replied emphati- 
 cally. 
 
 Gilbert laid down his brush and walked to the 
 window. 
 
 'Bertie, you haven't finished it? Aren't you 
 going to finish it ? Bert-i-e ! ' 
 
 Gilbert stood still at the window, looking out
 
 36 UGLY IDOL 
 
 upon his father, who lay on the lawn, intent upon 
 something he held in his hands. Agatha wept, 
 and the sound recalled Gilbert at once. 
 
 ' I am awfully sorry, only I don't think you 
 are very nice. I '11 go home.' 
 
 ' No, you won't,' he said quickly. ' Not until 
 you have begged his — my pardon.' 
 
 Agatha was a little afraid of him, and also very 
 fond of him, and she very much wanted her 
 Virgin, so she fell on her knees and begged 
 pardon very prettily. 
 
 1 Get up,' he said regally, with gratified pride 
 and returning affection. ' I '11 forgive you, and 
 you may hold the palette.' 
 
 He remembered all these little things after- 
 wards, and tried to feel the warmth of that 
 glowing sun again. But that was impossible, he 
 only saw it shining far away. 
 
 And this sun seemed to have shone in winter 
 also ; then too, as in summer, one was happy and 
 busy. 
 
 Brush, brush fell the flakes of snow against the 
 window-panes for some days, and outside every- 
 thing was grey and cold. Inside, the wood-fires 
 roared up the chimney, and the flames were re- 
 flected in the polished floors. Gradually the 
 world grew whiter and whiter, and a great silence 
 reigned round about. Everything slept under 
 this fleecy blanket, and the stillness of slumber 
 lay on the motionless trees and the wide, white 
 lawn. Sometimes a breath of wind sent a little 
 shiver through the branches, that creaked with
 
 UGLY IDOL 37 
 
 the weight of snow on them. Drip, drip, fell the 
 drops of the end of the water-spouts, yet such a 
 silence there was at the Campagne in winter ! 
 
 1 The angels moult,' said Jeannette, looking out 
 on the courtyard, where Spahi gambolled wildly, 
 as dogs will in snow. 
 
 1 Dieu ! qu'il fait f void, le vilain temps? 
 
 Then the sun shone again, the sky was blue, 
 and a layer of powdered jewels lay on the top of 
 everything. The world was gay, garmented all 
 over with its very best winter coat, radiant, iri- 
 descent in honour of its greatest fete, Christmas, 
 and the Jour de Pan. 
 
 How red Philomene's stockings looked as she 
 clattered about, singing and talking merrily! How 
 blue Henri's blouse, as he swept the gates clear ! 
 
 Then one drove into town, jingle-jangle behind 
 the bells of the sleigh. There, every one went 
 about with big baskets full of packets, laughed, 
 whistled, and sang. The diligences seemed gayer 
 than ever, their bright green and yellow covers 
 glaring in the sun, going and coming with a great 
 rollicking of horses and blowing of horns. In the 
 market-place was a forest of fir-trees, ranging in 
 height from a few inches to several feet, and all 
 the little peasants trudged round-eyed a la foire. 
 
 At the Campagne there was an exchanging of 
 presents, a continual murmur of people talking 
 and laughing and exclaiming. Gilbert's voice, 
 uplifted above all others, was audible all day 
 long. On New Year's Day the French took their 
 holiday and the servants were feasted, and Philo-
 
 38 UGLY IDOL 
 
 mene and Josephine came with tears in their 
 eyes, Henri with a ponderous Swiss grin, Jeannette 
 with frowning emotion, to thank Monsieur and 
 Madame for their kindness. Mr. Strode would 
 not have it spoilt by the presence of any English 
 servant. 
 
 Gilbert enjoyed these simple things ; but then 
 he was just so high, small enough to smell the 
 scent of flowers, to feel the poetry of things, to 
 have the soul to enjoy them. 
 
 Then the Yorkes went away. Agatha appeared 
 very sad at the parting, and told Gilbert that she 
 still kept her blue butterflies. He smiled with a 
 tear in his eye, and told her that she was a little 
 idiot to care so much about them. Mr. Strode 
 felt it also, and drove away with them to the 
 station to see them off. Clothilde stood on the 
 door-step, watching the departing carriage, a 
 
 smile on her lips, a pucker in her brow. 
 
 'Good-bye! good-bye!' shouted Mr. Strode, 
 
 waving his hat to the pleasant little companion of 
 
 so many summer days. 
 
 1 Good-bye ! good-bye ! ' cried Gilbert to the fair, 
 
 tear-stained face swollen with grief that leant 
 
 from the window of the train. 
 
 After this, the sun shone less brightly. The 
 
 anxious frown grew on Clothilde's face, and Gilbert 
 
 often heard bursts of anger from his father. 
 
 ' Get away, you confounded little pest,' was 
 
 said to him once or twice, when he approached 
 
 with his usual flow of conversation, confident of 
 
 receiving a quizzical attention.
 
 UGLY IDOL 39 
 
 Then one day he found Jeannette with a more 
 than ordinary fierce frown, clearing out his 
 drawers, and asking what of all this rubbish he 
 wished to keep. 
 
 1 Mais oui, certainly, you are going away, and 
 you cannot take all these messes with you. Eh ! 
 Don't talk to me, voyons, how should I know 
 anything ? You must ask of Madame where you 
 are going.' 
 
 There ensued a turmoil ; Mr. Strode went away 
 by himself in too great a hurry at the last moment 
 to catch his train to say good-bye to any one. 
 All the boxes were packed, every one was very 
 busy, and Gilbert was wanted nowhere. He 
 wandered solitary, desolate, through the rooms 
 where each little year of his life had fled so 
 happily, fled, fled. . . . Men came into the house 
 to value this and that, pictures and books were 
 heaped in piles, carpets rolled up, furniture 
 huddled into forlorn groups about the hall and 
 passages. Sack and straw lay about the sunny, 
 bright lawn, everything was being sold and 
 carted away. 
 
 Then one said good-bye to the orchards and 
 gardens, to the big tree on the lawn, whose red 
 leaves fluttered down like tears, it seemed to 
 Gilbert. One was embraced for five minutes by 
 Jeannette, and caught a last glimpse of her well- 
 known white cap and frowning brow. One spent 
 half an hour with Henri, leaving instructions 
 about the dogs. Philomene and Henri listened 
 in sniftering silence. At last one drove out at the
 
 40 UGLY IDOL 
 
 iron gate, and Henri, and every one, waved hats 
 and handkerchiefs to the sad occupants of the 
 carriage. One had a last glance at the white 
 house, still sleeping as ever, in the sunshine. 
 
 ' Adieu, adieu ! ' 
 
 The gates clanged behind them. 
 
 Good-bye, good-bye, dicrc Campagnc Saleve. 
 
 Adieu ! adieu ! petit papillon bleu !
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 GILBERT was sent to school, and after a term or 
 two enjoyed it very much ; but when he went 
 home for his holidays it was to a London lodging- 
 house. 
 
 1 Well, Gilbert, my boy ! ' cried his radiant 
 father. ' Your mother is not able to meet you. 
 We are house-hunting, and she is away on that 
 errand just now. We want a nice little house'; 
 and for a while they lived on Clothilde's money, 
 which came to her at the opportune death of her 
 mother. 
 
 But unhappily it did not cover Mr. Strode's 
 requirements, and he said to his wife, ' Never 
 mind, Henry — little ass — has the property now. 
 You are his only heir, and after you, Gilbert, of 
 course. You forget these things,' he added a 
 little testily. ' You magnify our difficulties ab- 
 surdly, you should look into the future.' 
 
 He always looked into the future ; he ran 
 through the whole of to-day so as to arrive at 
 to-morrow more quickly, and when to-morrow 
 was cloudy, he saw the sunshine of many years 
 ahead shining on the other side of it. He was 
 annoyed at his wife's shortness of vision, and he 
 was himself so happy that he could see no reason 
 
 41
 
 42 UGLY IDOL 
 
 for her melancholy. Clothilde listened in silence, 
 and forbore to say that it might be long, very 
 long, before her brother's property would become 
 theirs. He was of the kind that live long. 
 
 Gilbert spent another term at school, and then 
 did not go at all, for Mr. Strode would not send 
 him to a day-school as his mother wished. It 
 could not be thought of: Gilbert must have 
 masters, or stay at home, and he, Mr. Strode, 
 would teach him. A boy of his talent could not 
 be spoilt at a bad school. So Gilbert stayed at 
 home, and learned many things that are not 
 generally taught ; but also his Latin and Greek 
 were considerably better than the ordinary, for 
 his father's knowledge penetrated more or leas 
 into all things, and his intimate acquaintance with 
 languages, classic and otherwise, was remarkable. 
 
 ' Dearest,' said his wife, 'the child must go to 
 school; you forget his age. In some ways he is 
 very backward, and he will find himself dis- 
 qualified for the ordinary businesses of life, 
 she added hastily, 'we cannot afford masters. If 
 you would only sketch and paint for sale ! Take 
 a studio and work ! ' 
 
 In answer to that he shrugged his shoulders, 
 and, smiling, said that he could not possibly paint 
 unless the mood took him ; he could not tie him- 
 self down to make a livelihood by one thing. 
 Bah ! impossible. He could manage the money 
 if she would only let him. She wasted in her 
 housekeeping fearfully,' he cried, bursting into 
 rage ; when he wanted to buy that exquisite
 
 UGLY IDOL 43 
 
 alabaster vase, she had absolutely not a penny in 
 the house ! ' 
 
 Then a cold compelled him to stay indoors, and 
 he gave Gilbert lessons when the mood took him, 
 but mostly taught him to paint. He pictured the 
 future that lay before them, how he would do this, 
 or Gilbert that ; he drew the attractions of artist 
 life, — an idle pleasure to pass the idle hours that 
 he spent on the sofa, the tips of his fingers gently 
 poised against each other, his imagination at play. 
 It was, as usual, a busy idleness. And Gilbert 
 listened, absorbed these tasty morsels, cuddled in 
 his good but perverted memory these visions of 
 coming greatness, — and forgot arithmetic. It is 
 not a thing one should forget, arithmetic : one 
 lives by it. 
 
 Then a great event happened to Gilbert — he 
 began to think. Hitherto he had not thought at 
 all, he had only reflected his father. Now he 
 meditated, and fell to wondering why this father 
 was still so young and buoyant, his mother so old 
 and careworn. He had never observed the details 
 of his daily life, and now they came upon him 
 with a rush, grinning, grimacing, ugly realities, and 
 he could not get rid of them. They were the 
 more horrid because, with his dreamer's eye only 
 half open, he saw them distorted. He wondered 
 how it was that they had come to be so poor, and 
 he gazed disgusted on his shabby surroundings — 
 so shabby to his half-open eye. Why had his 
 father's manifold talent brought them neither 
 fame nor fortune ? What made it difficult ? He
 
 44 UGLY IDOL 
 
 suddenly thought that he led a lazy life, and 
 began to contemplate selling some sketches, and 
 he dropped his lashes and dreamt about it, about 
 studying in Rome, perhaps, or else in Paris, work- 
 ing hard, delightful work, and the gradual success 
 that he would earn by patient toil, for above all 
 things he would like to earn and win his laurels 
 hardly. Then, he and his father, then, then. . . . 
 Yes, he dropped his lashes, and dreamt about it. 
 
 He began to make advances to his mother, 
 awoke to her personality. She did not repulse 
 him, but she received him quietly : one could 
 hardly have told whether she loved him or not. 
 
 Then his soul was fired by the news of Lester's 
 early success. At twenty-five Lester was making 
 a name for himself, that odd, unnoticed brother 
 of Theresa ! He, also, began a picture in 
 earnest, a great big thing that was to be his first 
 step after Lester. It seemed so easy, one painted 
 one's picture, had it exhibited, and the thing was 
 done. Things, when you put them that way, are 
 all very simple. 
 
 How was it, then, that his father had not suc- 
 ceeded? 
 
 For some time Mr. Strode had been daily en- 
 gaged in the city, and he seemed to find his 
 business there both interesting and exciting. He 
 was angry with Clothilde for not taking more 
 interest in his projects ; her pale, resigned face 
 angered him. The thin hand laid in remon- 
 strance on his sleeve enraged him. So it happened 
 that he was duped in some transaction, and they
 
 UGLY IDOL 45 
 
 moved into lodgings again — cheap, common 
 lodgings ; but Clothilde, with the last fragment of 
 her money, a little hidden store, managed to buy 
 a house in Penton Street. 
 
 And then her energy, long worn to a very thin 
 thread, snapped quietly. 
 
 There was not much furniture in the room, and 
 Gilbert had to sit on the bed, for there was no 
 chair. It rained outside, and the houses over the 
 way were greyer than usual. Yes, it was very 
 grey out there ; a thick, dark sky brooded over 
 the tops of the houses, seeming to dip in heavy 
 folds between the chimney-pots like an 1 1 1— 
 stretched canopy. Everything was wrapped in 
 impenetrable silence, such as reigns in the dull 
 parts of noisy cities, only far away a man shouted, 
 ' Cy-o-als ! ' at regular intervals down the empty 
 street. Suddenly Campagne Saleve came before 
 him, all glowing with sunshine. He saw the 
 laughing group upon the steps, and Jeannette was 
 singing somewhere : 
 
 ' Mais, vous n'aurez pas Pier-re, 
 
 Ton, ton, ton, ton, bri, bri, bri, bri-6 ' 
 
 1 Cy-o-als ! ' shouted the man, a little nearer. 
 
 ' At least you will have a roof over you,' mur- 
 mured his mother. ' Take care of him — my boy . . .' 
 
 There was surely something wrong about it all 
 — this dismal room, that dismal street, this silent 
 end to a silent life. Gilbert was silent also, for 
 his passions were not of the kind that blaze and 
 flare upon the top.
 
 46 UGLY IDOL 
 
 So the shadowy figure of his mother receded 
 altogether into the shade ; and although she had 
 been a background to the scenes of his life, yet 
 she left a blank that remained. She had had a 
 strong restraining influence upon his nature, 
 though no one knew it ; he felt it, and missed it 
 when she was no longer there. But the impression 
 she had made remained, and time did not wear it 
 away. He knew more of her ten years after than 
 he did just then. 
 
 At the death of his wife Mr. Strode became very 
 ill. He came home at night very excited ; he 
 rushed to his wife's room and flung open the door, 
 beginning to speak before he was well inside, and, 
 reaching the bed, fell headlong down beside it, 
 shaking the floor with the heaviness of his fall. 
 Henry overcame his dislike to Mr. Strode on this 
 occasion, his pride not allowing that his only sister 
 should be buried meanly, and accordingly a 
 grand, sombre funeral was given her. Her son 
 and brother walked behind an over-decorated 
 hearse, and listened as the earth closed over her 
 with a dull thud. 
 
 ' I don't know whether you are as much of a 
 fool as your father,' snarled Henry to his nephew, 
 1 but you are at least her son. Any decent debts 
 I shall pay. You will have to be frank with me, 
 and it will depend upon circumstances what I 
 pay, and how. Don't think you can count upon 
 me for all and sundry. I 'm not rich. Try to 
 marry a nice girl, one at least that is pretty and 
 not vulgar.' He made an expressive gesture that
 
 UGLY IDOL 47 
 
 was lost on Gilbert. ' I have nothing to do with 
 your father's affairs, remember that,' and he 
 departed. 
 
 Gilbert had listened heedlessly. 'Old beast!' he 
 thought, without much warmth, and he also went 
 away sadly. He nursed his father with a love 
 that overcomes all obstacles, and little by little 
 Mr. Strode recovered. Gilbert, of course, was not 
 accustomed to think of everything, and even 
 Martha's presence did not prevent an accumula- 
 tion of bills that lengthened his face afterwards. 
 In these two months he learned a great deal. 
 
 Mr. Strode arose with silvered hair, tottering 
 legs, and bent back. ' Be all right next week,' he 
 said with a radiant smile. 
 
 He had now to manage his affairs himself, for, 
 of course, Martha could not be allowed to do so. 
 It angered him greatly to find how dependent he 
 had been on Clothilde. It was really very hard 
 that he, no longer as strong as formerly, should 
 be forced to do all these menial duties for himself. 
 He flew into a violent passion when bill-time 
 came, for hitherto he had had nothing to do with 
 the paying of things. He had only bought what 
 he wanted. He went out almost every afternoon 
 by himself. He took his umbrella, and would not 
 have Gilbert's assistance. ' I am not in my second 
 childhood yet, and I am likely to know more 
 about the streets of London than you do,' he said 
 testily, when Gilbert demurred at his going alone. 
 He paused at the corner of the street to see that 
 he was not followed. His son gazed after his
 
 48 UGLY IDOL 
 
 tottering form from the window, helplessly. One 
 day he went out as usual, and Gilbert sat down 
 calmly beside the fire to wait for him. The early 
 winter twilight closed in, and still he sat beside 
 the fire, and Mr. Strode had not come back. 
 Every sound in the street caught his ear. ' Some- 
 thing has happened at last,' he told himself 
 drearily, and listened and listened until he lost 
 all sense of the proportion of sounds, and started 
 nervously at the dropping of a cinder on the 
 hearth. At last his father came back, not a whit 
 the worse for his outing, a semblance of his old, 
 happy smile on his face as he entered. 
 
 1 Well,' he said, bursting as usual into the 
 middle of his subject, ' you are to begin next week.' 
 
 'The Life School?' asked Gilbert, perplexed. 
 He had been thinking on the subject of his career 
 for some time, making up his mind on certain 
 points before he broached his plans to his father, 
 which he intended to do this very evening. This 
 was opportune. 
 
 'Life School? Damn the boy! does bethink 
 he 's going to a Life School when his father is 
 dying of starvation for want of immediate money? 
 What a selfish thing youth is — it thinks of nothing 
 but itself! Those ideas of yours, Gilbert, about 
 a studio, and goodness knows all what, are all very 
 fine for you, sir, for you,' he stuttered, flying in 
 defence of himself from anger to rage. ' You 
 think the nice future of twenty years hence that 
 you have been building for yourself will be here 
 to-morrow, and you forget — you choose to forget,
 
 UGLY IDOL 49 
 
 perhaps — that there is an actual present to be 
 lived through — that I am penniless, that I may 
 even be reduced to dying of starvation — I ! ' and 
 he drew himself up, a tall, broad-shouldered man 
 yet. It did seem absurd that he, above all others, 
 should die such a death. Next moment he shrank 
 again into a bowed old man, and wandered 
 restlessly about the room. 
 
 Gilbert listened. He was taller, though less 
 broad, than his father. He pulled himself up to 
 the extreme height of his long, lank figure, and 
 his face was obscured by the dimness above the 
 lamp-shade. 
 
 His father paused before him irresolutely, and 
 as they stood thus the common little room seemed 
 too small for their silence. The idol of his heart, 
 cherished very carefully for so long, but sometime 
 tottering, fell of a sudden, and in the chaotic 
 confusion caused by this shattering Gilbert lost 
 consciousness of his surroundings, and stood erect 
 in silence, numbed by the greatness of his emotion. 
 He hid his fists in his pockets, and the veins 
 swelled on his brow. 
 
 Presently he asked dully, ' What is it that I am 
 to begin next week ? ' 
 
 His father sat down in the rickety arm-chair by 
 the fireside, smiling genially. 
 
 ' Ah, now, that 's right ! I knew you would see 
 the reason of it. You always were your father's 
 own son, weren't you, old boy ? I 've got a splen- 
 did place for you in Stanley's office — languages 
 required, you know. You will get as good a 
 
 D
 
 5 o UGLY IDOL 
 
 chance as any young fellow in your shoes can 
 expect. It's not like some little clerk's place, a 
 thing one need be ashamed of; oh no, not at all ! 
 I saw some really nice young men there to- 
 day, and I think you need companions. Paid 
 monthly, too ! Not much, to be sure, to begin 
 with, but we shall have it to fall back upon, — we 
 will not starve yet a while. Poor Tegart-Hoare is 
 really very obliging, in spite of his wife.' 
 
 Gilbert listened without moving, and Mr. Strode 
 rambled on. He must really start work again, 
 now that he was better he must astonish the 
 wretches who had dropped him, and from whom 
 he had fallen proudly asunder, with a specimen 
 of the true worth of his talent. He had a splendid 
 idea, but the subject would require to be treated 
 on a large canvas. He would see about it to- 
 morrow. 
 
 Gilbert left the room abruptly, and tore out 
 into the streets seeking refuge in their glare and 
 rattle. Nothing in the crowd repulsed him ; these 
 loud laughs did not smite his ear rudely, the hot 
 odours of gas and cookery, of many people 
 crowded in small places, did not nauseate him. 
 He mingled with this Saturday night's crowd ; 
 elbow to elbow he hurried along with a creature 
 from whom he would have fled in daylight ; on, 
 on, in this turmoil of a laughing, smoking, 
 cursing crowd ; on, on, through the muck of the 
 gutters. . . . 
 
 He came home in the early morning with the 
 fragments of the fallen idol swept away out of
 
 UGLY IDOL 51 
 
 sight ; no doubt in some seldom searched corner 
 of his heart they were stored and treasured. The 
 intense passion roused last night slumbered again, 
 and the boy in him also. 
 
 In the evening of his first day at the office he 
 went to see Theresa. Mr. Strode never visited 
 these old friends, and Gilbert went there partly 
 in secret ; his father seemed jealous of Lester, 
 and had moreover a strange fear of being 
 patronised by his former friends. This prickly 
 pride was very absurd ; no one had ever thought 
 of patronising Mr. Strode. 
 
 Gilbert had not seen Theresa since his mother 
 died, and he could not very well have told what 
 sent him to her now. He did not wish for 
 sympathy or confidence, so he told himself, and 
 he had not that longing that lighter natures have 
 for an audience to his sorrow. But in truth he 
 went to be scolded, to be pinched into a little 
 warmth by Theresa's straightforward utterances. 
 
 She was alone, and jumped up briskly on 
 seeing him. She was no better-looking now than 
 she had been when she was young : an odd, 
 wizened little creature, like the shrivelled kernel 
 of a nut, with a nervous habit of grimacing, and 
 an astonishing manner of issuing outrageous 
 sentiments unvarnished by any delicacy of speech. 
 Her mind and tongue and limbs seemed to wag 
 in obedience to a string pulled by some one else 
 inside. She, in fact, catapulted all she said, and 
 what she did not catapult she pop-gunned. 
 
 She received him, however, without remark, for
 
 52 UGLY IDOL 
 
 sympathy between such friends is expressed by 
 silence rather than words. 
 
 Gilbert was a little stiff. 
 
 1 We have moved into Penton Street,' he began. 
 1 Father seems pretty well. You will be glad to 
 hear that I have found a permanent employment.' 
 
 1 That sounds like a phrase you have been 
 learning to say. I think you are too old now to 
 repeat your lessons to me. Sit down in this chair 
 and tell me about it properly.' 
 
 ' I ' he began and stuck again. 
 
 Theresa fidgeted impatiently, and he hurried 
 on with awkward flippancy. 
 
 ' Listen, Theresa,' he said, ' and rejoice. I have 
 got a place in Stanley's, you know — swell place.' 
 
 Presently he turned round to construe her 
 silence. 
 
 ' Who is the perpetrator of that ? ' 
 
 'It's a very good post. I — my father is 
 delighted.' 
 
 ' Really ! ' 
 
 ' Yes.' 
 
 1 But I thought you were going to take up 
 illustrating, and I have been to Herison about 
 it, and he said he thought your work was un- 
 necessarily good. You are not going to give it 
 up ! After all — and you were so eager about it, 
 besides it would pay.' 
 
 ' Stanley's is a certainty ' 
 
 ' But begin by illustrating out of hours.' 
 
 He hesitated. Illustrating was to him almost 
 as nauseating as the office ; he had had such
 
 UGLY IDOL 53 
 
 very great ambitions, art had seemed such a very 
 exquisite mistress, so far removed from pencil 
 and paper and toil in Penton Street. ' It has 
 become impossible,' he growled, his head in his 
 hand. 
 
 ' Well,' Theresa sighed, ' I suppose you know. 
 Only it seems such a waste of good talents. If 
 you could only sell them to some one who would 
 make better use of them.' 
 
 1 The unfortunate person would make a bad 
 investment ' 
 
 ' We are wandering from the subject.' 
 
 Suddenly the coldness and bareness of his 
 present life came over him. Theresa was his 
 only friend, and he did not see very much of her, 
 and feeling that he was not of the society that 
 frequented her house, he sneaked there secretly, 
 at times when he knew she would be alone. His 
 father had dropped from his old surroundings as 
 effectually as a dead man, and in as short a time. 
 Gilbert had not spoken to any one, it seemed to 
 him, for months. No one cared, cither. . . . 
 Somehow, this great room with its bright fire, 
 and Theresa grimacing more than usual in the 
 fitful light of it, moved him strangely. But then, 
 oddly enough, Theresa was a person who drew 
 confidences from others ; her servants came to 
 her with sad histories, to be consoled ; Lester, of 
 course, depended on her entirely, and Gilbert 
 could not remember the secret he had from her. 
 
 So he tumbled to his knees beside her. 
 
 ' Theresa ! Traddles ! Say something, do talk
 
 54 UGLY IDOL 
 
 to me ! No, — don't mention it again — don't make 
 it any harder — I hate this beast of an office — I 
 tell you I 've been nearly mad — don't rub me up, 
 or I shall go all over it again — I ' 
 
 . . . Theresa hung a wet handkerchief over her 
 knee to dry at the fire. She was talking prosily. 
 
 1 1 meet Lawrence Tegart-Hoare, the artist one ; 
 he comes here, in fact. But the other, who is 
 connected with the Stanley's, is tied to a Salvation 
 Army dame now, I believe — one of these people 
 all prickly with virtue, that goad other people — 
 like me — to la-bas. That sensational agony- 
 column kind of religion always upsets me. I am 
 afraid you will see a good deal of it.' 
 
 So he did in the coming six years, for Mr. 
 Strode had reasons for keeping on very friendly 
 terms with the rich brother of the artist whom he 
 had known. 
 
 Mr. Strode went often to this big house in 
 West Kensington, and Gilbert wondered to see 
 him in an atmosphere so utterly uncongenial to 
 his nature. Gilbert himself did not find it very 
 entertaining. He came and went, came and went, 
 to and from the office, week after week, month 
 after month, and life became to him the dreary 
 routine it is to most people. All serious thought 
 of art died out or was crusted over. Mr. Strode 
 himself seemed to have forgotten it, and never 
 touched canvas or brushes. On the contrary, he 
 had taken his place in an art-hating circle of 
 society, and was as charming as ever in this new 
 atmosphere of busy charity and mission-rooms.
 
 UGLY IDOL 55 
 
 In the evenings Gilbert came home and wrote at 
 extra work he got so as to have a continual 
 supply of ready money for Mr. Strode to spend 
 on his little occupations. After all, thought the 
 son, few men with shattered health and broken 
 fortune would lead such a happy, busy life, would 
 find so much for his idle hands to do. Or, other 
 evenings, he laughed, talked, and read aloud, and 
 sometimes Martha saw them with their heads 
 close together under the common white lamp, 
 playing like children at a comedy they concocted, 
 which was acted by absurd figures that Mr. 
 Strode's deft fingers modelled out of wax. These 
 figures, in the process of melting, collapsed into 
 suggestive attitudes, and with his faculty of doing 
 everything of this kind, Mr. Strode immediately 
 struck off appropriate rhymes, which were some- 
 times so good that Gilbert wrote them down 
 in a book. On these occasions he sat on late 
 into the night writing or wasting time with his 
 head on the table, for it took a year or two for 
 that detestable office, that stool to which he was 
 tied for life, to become simply an unheeded every- 
 day matter. Then Saturday afternoon or Sunday 
 were so often spent at the Tegart-Hoares' ; at 
 first amusing enough, then wearisome, and then 
 disgusting. 
 
 'Well, my boy, we will go there to-morrow 
 afternoon,' his father would say. 
 
 Gilbert did not answer for fully five minutes, 
 and put on a certain expression that did not be- 
 come him. He was at no time handsome ; a very
 
 56 UGLY IDOL 
 
 long lank man, with the thin white face of one 
 who lives much indoors. A cold, taciturn face 
 which ordinarily changed very little in speaking, 
 and to which the conventional smile of politeness 
 added no charm. His eyes were melancholy, 
 intensely so, but he peered through his glasses in 
 the unbecoming manner common to short-sighted 
 people, and the beauty of eye was not evident in 
 the rapid glance one throws at a man of this 
 personal appearance. 
 
 1 1 do not very much care for the Tegart-Hoares. 
 Is it necessary to go so often ? ' he said at last. 
 
 ' They are amusing, and besides, useful. You 
 must learn business, Gilbert ; you must know 
 people for policy's sake sometimes.' Mr. Strode 
 nodded his head cunningly. ' Tegart-Hoare is nice 
 enough, and he still has a spice of worldlincss left 
 in him that turns up when his wife is not by. 
 Ella is a charming, straightforward girl.' 
 
 Gilbert opened his eyes wide at that, but gave 
 in of course, for it never occurred to him to oppose 
 his father. 
 
 Only, one Saturday, returning from the office 
 early, it suddenly seemed to him that this life was 
 unutterably dreary, to have lasted for years, an 
 unbroken grey monotone. The thought of that 
 house in West Kensington sent a shiver down his 
 back, and he paused irresolutely. He was shoved 
 off the pavement by a gay, rude crowd that was 
 fighting for entrance at the pit-door of a music- 
 hall. Looking up, he found that he had passed 
 the place often, and with a sudden gleam of
 
 UGLY IDOL 57 
 
 vicious joy he flung himself into the crowd, fight- 
 ing with the best of them for a place. He enjoyed 
 himself very much. 
 
 But, when he went home, in one room there 
 was a weeping and helpless Martha, in another 
 his father, on the verge of illness with rage, 
 shaking with unrestrained passion. In the evening 
 he vowed that he would never do it again, and 
 sighed, for theatre-going, from the vagrant show 
 to the Lyceum, was much to his heart. 
 
 His life was not, perhaps, very entertaining, 
 since he did not find much diversion at the house 
 of the Tegart-Hoares. This was a fine place, 
 richly furnished in such solid manner as is appro- 
 priate to people who eschew the frivolities of life, 
 and are somewhat bulky in material being. 
 The drawing-room was a large, handsome room, 
 decorated with palms and a magnificent mantel- 
 piece that caught the eye at once. A smell of 
 pews hung about it by reason of spare chairs and 
 Bibles being stored in a cupboard there. 
 
 Something ominous about this room struck 
 Gilbert the first day he entered it, and he never, 
 even when it became familiar, got rid of the 
 feeling. It was sombre, an atmosphere of in- 
 digestible richness pervaded it that cast its heavy 
 spell upon the entering stranger. 
 
 Then Mrs. Tegart-Hoare sailed in, with a hand 
 extended in courteous welcome. 
 
 1 So sorry to have kept you waiting. I am so 
 busy, and I am sure you will not object, when you 
 know that I work in a good cause. Is this
 
 58 UGLY IDOL 
 
 Gilbert ? He is surely the age of my John. Ah 
 yes ! I have heard very good reports of him from 
 my husband.' 
 
 She gazed at Mr. Strode a little suspiciously, 
 knowing that he had been an artist, and hence 
 very wicked when young. Her husband had 
 ventured to point out that his old friend would 
 make excellent material for converting, and in this 
 spirit of charity she received the Strodes without 
 further demur. 
 
 Her suspicion, however, soon transferred itself 
 to Gilbert, although, she thought, he really looked 
 very respectable and gentlemanly : for Mr. Strode 
 had evidently quite reformed since his youth, and 
 he bowed and smiled, and sat down beside her 
 with that appearance of being so extremely in- 
 terested that came to him in talking with any 
 stranger. 
 
 ' Ah, I have often heard of your works,' he 
 said. 
 
 1 When one sees the degradation, the savagery, 
 of these poor people in the streets, one is moved 
 to make an effort to redeem them.' 
 
 Mr. Strode was sympathetic ; he inquired after 
 her numerous charities, her prize-givings, her 
 meetings, was, in fact, so very charming, so de- 
 lightfully attentive, that Mrs. Tegart-Hoare spoke 
 even more on the subject than was her habit in 
 ordinary conversation. 
 
 Gilbert sat opposite, a little amused, a little 
 astonished, and observant. She was a personable 
 woman, big, plain, majestic, with an odd and
 
 UGLY IDOL 59 
 
 almost childlike simplicity on her face that showed 
 she was no hypocrite. She believed all she 
 preached, every word of it, with a faith that made 
 her sermons quite eloquent. She had found the 
 narrow way, she said, when she stood up, stout, 
 imposing, in the Mission House. She exhorted 
 all present to follow her, — she paused earnestly, 
 with her eyes upturned to the ceiling, her mouth 
 where she left it in pronouncing the last word. 
 This would have been more convincing if her big 
 teeth had not caught one's attention ; as it was, 
 one felt ashamed of the suspicion that the narrow 
 way was constructed by herself on an improved 
 nineteenth-century model. It would, Gilbert 
 pondered once, be difficult to follow her there ; it 
 was narrow, and she filled its space herself. 
 
 As Gilbert sat opposite her, he wondered why 
 he vaguely suspected her, what it was about her 
 good, simple face that he distrusted. 
 
 1 Yes,' Mr. Strode was saying with a smile, ' a 
 beautiful book, I agree with you. Have you read 
 Renan's Vie de Jesus ? ' 
 
 Gilbert gazed in astonishment ; his father was 
 surely taking her off! 
 
 1 No,' she answered. ' But I read with great 
 
 appreciation , by Moncure Conway. It did 
 
 one good; it seemed to lift one up into ' 
 
 Mr. Strode turned his head away, and glanced 
 across at his son very oddly. 
 
 1 Indeed ! You read freethinking books 
 then ? ' 
 
 Mrs.Tegart-Hoare's teeth gleamed wide asunder,
 
 60 UGLY IDOL 
 
 severed by astonishment, and her lips receded like 
 retreating waves, leaving bare and unlovely ex- 
 panse of gum. 
 
 ' FreetJiinking ? oh dear me no ! I read those 
 religious books for instruction, for knowledge, of 
 course, — but ' 
 
 Such was her simplicity of faith, that she read 
 her own creed in books of quite opposite senti- 
 ment ; read aloud to her husband in pointed 
 unction things that under another name would 
 have caused her teeth to gnash in horror. 
 
 She was really a simple woman. 
 
 At this somewhat awkward moment the door 
 was hurled open, and Ella tumbled in, laughing 
 loudly. A school-boyish giggle was audible out- 
 side, and Ella shouted, ' O Frank, you horrid 
 boy, I '11 pay you out ! ' with a boisterous tom- 
 boyishness unbecoming to her years, for she was 
 twenty-two. 
 
 1 Ella-h ! ' exclaimed her mother feebly. 
 
 1 Oh, I didn't see any one was there,' said the 
 good-natured elephant, not at all put out, and 
 she laughed again and sat down to talk to 
 Gilbert. 
 
 At first sight she was rather entertaining. She 
 had no lack of conversation about subjects new 
 to him then, and her odd jumble of religious 
 phraseology and school slang was amusing. 
 
 4 Oh, the boys are awful fun ! We have a lot 
 of them, and make them carpenters and all that. 
 Many of them hear the name of the Lord for the 
 first time when they come to us. But they really
 
 UGLY IDOL 61 
 
 get an idea of religion and goodness in a very 
 short time. We have them all scrubbed at a 
 tank. We then teach them hymns. Oh no ! 
 they tore the Bible to pieces. It was dreadful, 
 but I read them fairy tales, and they were quite 
 good. The women are more difficult to reform, — 
 they cheat, you know, for the Christmas packets ; 
 but we managed it by tickets. No, not mother ; 
 it is one of my aunts, who is very High Church, 
 who does all that' 
 
 Then she said that she painted texts and 
 religious things for her aunt. Would he like to 
 see them ? He said yes, and she romped to the 
 door with her usual energy, upsetting a little table 
 in her course. 
 
 ' Ella-h ! ' exclaimed her mother vaguely, and 
 from force of habit, without turning to see what 
 had happened. 
 
 She led the way to a little carved wood back- 
 stairs, traversing a wide landing, whence one saw 
 the huge wall of the staircase covered with pictures 
 and valuable prints. 
 
 1 Ah ! ' said Gilbert, with awaking interest. 
 ■ Hogarth's.' 
 
 1 Hogarth's ? ' Ella turned an unresponsive 
 brown eye upon the wall. ' I dare say, some of 
 papa's old collections. Oh, those water-colours 
 aren't Hogarth's, I know, because they are Uncle 
 Lawrence's.' 
 
 Gilbert gazed at her in stupefaction at this, 
 but before he had time to reply some one 
 coming upstairs laughed, and remarked slowly,
 
 62 UGLY IDOL 
 
 1 Ella, as usual, displaying her ignorance with 
 flying colours.' 
 
 This was Mr. Tegart-Hoare, a lean, lazy man, 
 whose fear of death in the first place, and want of 
 resistance in the second, had drawn him from a 
 worldly life into his present religious surroundings. 
 He was a shadow of his wife, always there, never 
 particularly evident. She was his regulator in all 
 matters — it saved trouble. He simply took care 
 to see that her coffee-houses kept themselves, and 
 that the mission-rooms did not exceed the sum 
 he allowed for them. But she was a very good 
 manager. Her charities, somehow, seldom cost 
 her very much. 
 
 He passed on, after a word or two, and went 
 into the drawing-room. 
 
 As Gilbert followed Ella down a passage they 
 passed another shadow, a small, haggard creature 
 in old carpet slippers. This, she explained, was 
 her eldest brother, who had been very ill. Her 
 mother had made him a clergyman, had written 
 his sermons for him, and had urged him to learn 
 them off by heart, which had resulted in brain 
 fever. Her second brother seldom lived at home, 
 for he whistled shocking tunes about the house and 
 could not be tolerated, and he consequently lived 
 in other circles ; but Mrs. Tegart-Hoare, being so 
 busy and wrapped up in her ' good ' works, had 
 no time to inquire what circles he frequented, nor 
 how he managed to slip through his allowance so 
 quickly. Ella loved her school-boy brother, who 
 would have liked religion well enough had he
 
 UGLY IDOL 63 
 
 been allowed to play the big drum, but as this 
 instrument did not figure in his mother's meetings, 
 he found it rather dull. Ella chattered all this 
 to Gilbert, showed him her painting-room, her 
 little texts and cards, and he listened inattentively. 
 He did not care for her ; he conceived her to 
 be big, coarse, stupid, and his dislike of her was 
 nameless. It arose from the sensitiveness that 
 Penton Street, the walk to the office, his intro- 
 spective life had fostered into a nettly growth 
 that stung him at every turn. He hurt only 
 himself, however. It is, of course, better to hurt 
 others. . . . 
 
 Theresa and her brother had been away from 
 town a year or two, and Gilbert missed them very 
 much. He went joyfully to see her as soon as he 
 heard of their return, but the drawing-room was 
 crowded, for others also ran to see Lester. He 
 was a very great man nowadays. He was a 
 recluse, and therefore it was the highest aim of 
 one's life to say that one had been to his house, 
 and one ran with all one's might to be the first 
 inside his door when he came to town. But a 
 great many people went to see Theresa, rather 
 than her brother, for Lester was seldom visible. 
 
 Gilbert crept in shyly, and sat down unnoticed 
 in a corner, afraid to stand lest his height should 
 attract attention. It seemed to him so long since 
 he had been anywhere but in that sombre house 
 at West Kensington, and this laughing, and 
 talking, and cultured flippancy, this apparent light- 
 heartedness, light and dainty as dandelion fluff,
 
 64 UGLY IDOL 
 
 struck him and stirred him strangely. He knew 
 that it was an exterior quality only, but he had 
 lived in the midst of it when he was a boy, and 
 the very smell of it raised a longing in him that 
 was painful. He tingled in response to things 
 that were said around him, and much was said, 
 for every one talked, talked, talked, just the talk 
 to which he liked to listen — bright, effervescent, 
 sometimes clever, always entertaining. Success! 
 Success ! was written on almost every face ; the 
 ample egotism of it shone in almost every eye, 
 and he felt that he had no business there. But 
 why should he not realise his old dreams — begin 
 at the bottom and work upwards as others did, to 
 carry this triumph of overcome obstacles in his 
 eye also ? There was yet plenty of time — oh ! 
 plenty of time. Why not enjoy life, live in the 
 sunshine, and succeed ? 
 
 ' Live, eat, and drink, for to-morrow you die, — 
 yes, take the drink you like best, a thimbleful 
 only, or a tumblerful if you can ; drink, drink ! 
 for to-morrow it will not matter. If you love the 
 sunshine, live in the sunshine, for who pities the 
 idiot who shuts it out because some one at his 
 side prefers the dark ? Do what you want ; push 
 along in the scramble and shout for joy, stamping 
 on the toes of others ; drink a big drink of what 
 you like best, for to-morrow it will not matter.' 
 He thought all that with the unnecessary bitterness 
 of very young people. Then he remembered the 
 burden of debts, the common little home in 
 Penton Street, and he left Theresa's with a
 
 UGLY IDOL 65 
 
 hanging head. But he found her company in- 
 vigorating, the air of his home unbearable without 
 some break, and he went to her again. 
 
 I Why did you sneak away on Friday ? ' 
 
 I I was obliged to go.' 
 
 1 Because you have a morbid idea that clerks 
 at Stanley's have no place in our circle? I don't 
 choose my friends by the pattern of their coats.' 
 
 ' I prefer not to come, don't you see ' 
 
 1 Gilbert, I see the influence of the Tegart- 
 Hoares upon you.' 
 
 He laughed, and described that household to 
 her. He could be amusing enough when taken 
 off his guard. 
 
 1 How dreadful to be burdened with a soul that 
 requires such an amount of looking after ! ' she 
 exclaimed when he finished. ' As bad as having 
 a Toy-Yorkshire.' 
 
 Gilbert noticed that she was unusually nervous 
 and irritable, that she looked very tired and very 
 old. She talked to him irrelevantly and with 
 unnecessary vigour, and she did not seem con- 
 scious of his silence. His grunts, his gestures, 
 and certain manipulation of his glasses, gave as 
 much impression of conversation as the ordinary 
 chatter of other people. She turned her eyes 
 continually to the door, and seemed to be listening 
 for some distant sound. Noticing this, and con- 
 cluding that he was not wanted, he rose to go, 
 but she detained him with a quick movement of 
 her hand. 
 
 ' Lester has finished a picture, — I really think his 
 E
 
 66 UGLY IDOL 
 
 masterpiece this time. He has been working very 
 hard, in order to finish Mrs. Studleigh by the 
 twelfth. And he has set his heart on frescoes for 
 the ante-room,' she said. ' I know you like his 
 work. Wait till he leaves the studio, I will show 
 it to you. We hava had such a bother about the 
 frame ' ; she broke off and looked harassed. 
 
 ' He always succeeds,' Gilbert murmured. 
 
 1 Yes,' she said proudly. ' No one has yet 
 accused him of failure. Only I am afraid that 
 he is verging towards the boundaries of eccentri- 
 city. His ideas run away with him.' 
 
 1 Ah ! ' remarked Gilbert vacuously, an intro- 
 spective gleam in his eyes. ' And does he think 
 that he has never failed ? ' 
 
 ' I don't know, he never speaks about it, he 
 seems to lose all interest in anything accom- 
 plished. He simply begins again. It will be 
 viewed next Friday, and you must come for once, 
 — yes, really. You have never seen Lester chcz 
 luil and she glanced up again proudly. 
 
 At this moment the door opened, and Lester 
 ran in. 
 
 Theresa looked up with a bright, loving smile 
 that shed a pleasing remembrance of youth over 
 her face. There is a great charm, a something 
 that tickles one's soul kindly, in the sight of such 
 a beauty on a plain face. One remembers that 
 there are other things besides red lips and long 
 eyelashes. 
 
 1 Mary Leighs has not come yet,' she began ; 
 but he looked at her unseeing for a moment
 
 UGLY IDOL 67 
 
 with his dreamy eyes, and a little smile hovered 
 round his mouth. 
 
 1 Finished ? ' 
 
 ' Yes, come, and see,' he said quickly, and 
 throwing his arm round her neck, led her off. 
 
 The antechamber to the studio was crowded 
 with scraps of embroidery, rugs, curtains, dresses, 
 weapons, and all those things that Lester, how- 
 ever, seldom used for painting from ; but the 
 studio itself was a bare place, containing only 
 what was necessary, with a couch or two for 
 visitors. Near the window stood the newly finished 
 picture on its easel, and Lester ran to it excitedly, 
 and waited impatiently for them to comment upon 
 it. Not that it mattered to him whether the rest 
 of the world cared for his work or no. The 
 picture was finished, and ceased to interest him, 
 but he wanted to be praised. And the more 
 people that praised him the better ; he liked to 
 see a roomful of people paying homage to him, to 
 him ! He seldom spoke on the subject of art, 
 never established theories, never defended himself 
 when attacked ; but he disliked those who attacked 
 him, for it seemed to him that they were rude, and 
 interfered with his pleasure. No one could quite 
 tell what Lester thought about anything, or 
 whether he did think. What did it matter? He 
 was a great genius ; his art was wonderful, his 
 personality nothing. 
 
 Gilbert gazed at the picture, and a warm glow 
 of admiration crept all over him. Theresa stood 
 beside him, also in silence, for there was nothing
 
 68 UGLY IDOL 
 
 to say. It had, as usual, Lester's power of driving 
 criticism from the mind of the spectator. A charm 
 hung over his work, so that one could not say this 
 foreshortening is wrong, that impossible, the light 
 wrongly centred, or the tints opaque. No, one 
 looked at them, and marvelled and thought. The 
 spirit of his idea was upon them, and one forgot 
 they were done in paint, on canvas. 
 
 ' Well,' said Lester a little crossly. 
 
 Gilbert jumped, and remembered that he was 
 expected to admire. 
 
 1 Very fine, — magnificent ! ' he remarked drily, 
 with a cold smile at his effort to praise ; absurd 
 of Lester to expect it. ' More than magnificent, 
 it's ' 
 
 A little gratified smile crossed Lester's lips 
 quickly, but he waited for more. 
 
 Then they looked at the picture again. 
 
 It was Genevra locked in the chest The box 
 was bisected so that one saw her inside. The 
 background was a dark-greyish brown, and the 
 light came in from the old, started seams. Genevra 
 knelt, looking straight from the picture, and her 
 hands seemed to be seeking up the edges of the 
 frame, aimlessly seeking for some spring to let 
 her out. But she knew that she would have to 
 die there, and the horror of it grew in her eyes as 
 one looked at her. A most unutterable despair, 
 an irrevocable doom, emanated from the face of 
 this simple figure of a girl. 
 
 Music had raised this feeling before in Gilbert, 
 but never a picture ; and this was odd, for it had
 
 UGLY IDOL 69 
 
 none of the searching, enervating, nervous passion 
 of music ; on the contrary, it was cold. That was 
 its striking fault, or quality, it was cold. It was 
 horrifying, but not convincing. 
 
 Gilbert mumbled some more commonplace 
 phrases, the usual things that one always says, 
 and Lester listened, an angry frown growing on 
 his face. He fidgeted before the picture, and 
 suddenly cried, ' It is a failure ! ' and began to run 
 up and down excitedly. 
 
 1 Lester ! ' exclaimed Theresa in amazement, for 
 she had never heard him say this before. She 
 had never heard him make any noticeable com- 
 ment upon a finished picture. 
 
 He was a thin, little man ; his fair, pointed face 
 was not remarkable for expression, and it seemed 
 impossible that he should contain in his small 
 body the terrific passion that burst from him at 
 times in volcanic explosions. It was always there, 
 underneath, and it seemed to vibrate through him 
 as air passing over strings sets them a-quiver : it 
 thrilled in the under-tones of his voice, it gleamed 
 at the back of his eye, and to shake hands with 
 him was like taking hold of the handle of a 
 battery. He was not conceited, for one could 
 not put a word to his faults or virtues, but he 
 demanded — unconsciously — the admiration of 
 every one, and he got it ; he had but to look with 
 his fascinating eye, and people did what it asked 
 of them — unconsciously. 
 
 'It is a failure ! ' he cried, raking the hair from 
 his brow with nervous fingers.
 
 70 UGLY IDOL 
 
 ' Nonsense ! ' said Theresa sharply, and very 
 prosaically. ' You have been working too hard the 
 last week or two : leave it alone for a while. You 
 will find it is all right, after a little.' 
 
 It was her business in life to be prosaic. She 
 was, she said, the lump of lead at the other end. 
 
 ' What is the matter with it ? ' Lester went on, 
 ' Why should I fail ? I ! ' 
 
 The passion grew in his eyes, and burst upon 
 him, coming as some outside element, sweeping 
 him along in its course as wind sends withered 
 leaves scudding before its might. 
 
 ' Despair is the most subtle of expressions. I 
 take it because it is interesting ; it has so many 
 phases, it is such a sad thing, complex and simple 
 all at once. It should be miserable, puny, should 
 show the miserableness of life. She should be 
 miserable — Genevra — in that box where she is 
 going to die. She should be in utter despair. 
 Love, hatred, scorn, the)' are all so easy, — who 
 cannot do that? A smile, a frown, — pah! so 
 easy ; but despair ! it is subtle, — a contorted 
 muscle does not give it ; it does not frown, it does 
 not laugh, it looks, it looks ! Hut why cannot I 
 see it? Why can / not lay my hand on it? 
 See,' he cried, with the childlike simplicity of 
 speech that was his peculiarity, ' look at her, 
 — she is as far from the thing as that panel ! 
 Why can I not do it, why have I failed ? It is 
 a failure ! ' he shouted in his fury, and seizing a 
 big brush, he swept all the paint from- the 
 palette with it, and daubed out the face, the
 
 UGLY IDOL 71 
 
 face that no one else in the world would have 
 found any fault with. 
 
 Yes, he daubed it out ; stamping with rage he 
 covered the canvas with motley streaks of paint. 
 He demolished it, he would tear it to bits, this 
 thing that defied him, — he would tear it to bits. 
 
 Theresa caught him by the hand and turned 
 him away. 
 
 ' Lester ! Lester ! leave it now ! ' she said. 
 
 For a moment he stood gazing vacantly, 
 quivering with his exertion. Then a smile grew 
 and grew upon his face, and his eyes began to 
 sparkle. He threw his arms round her neck. 
 
 ' I must begin again,' he whispered. ' It is 
 impossible not to succeed a second time. I will 
 begin again.' 
 
 'Yes, begin again, of course you will succeed, — 
 only come away just now, it is getting dark,' she 
 answered, caressing him and gazing at him, a 
 great love beaming from her wizened face. 
 
 Gilbert thought that it was difficult to tell 
 which of them was most beautiful ; he, rapt in 
 the ecstasy of his genius, or she in the adoration 
 of this brother. Gilbert also bent his head in 
 admiration of him. Yet there was nothing to 
 admire in Lester : a little weakly man, emotional, 
 amiable, very simple in ordinary life. His genius 
 was a thing he obeyed implicitly ; it led him away, 
 away, and he followed where it took him. 
 
 He was not responsible for the actions of his 
 genius.
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 GILBERT lived rather an odd life, with Theresa's 
 house upon the one hand, and the Tegart-Hoares 
 upon the other. He found they did not mix 
 very well, but he could not resist visiting Theresa, 
 this breezy person revived him like the sweet air 
 of the sea. Also, household matters weighed 
 heavily upon him. He hated money and business, 
 had been brought up to do so, and now he found 
 himself face to face with those little tiresome, 
 intractable figures, those jumping eights and 
 nines, that fret the youth out of a man as the 
 most subtle bacillus. Mr. Strode in forgetful 
 moments would do things without telling his 
 son of them, and unexpected bills cropped up 
 that caused Gilbert to pull long faces over his 
 quarterly accounts. Mr. Strode, in fact, had 
 relapsed into his old habit of buying what he 
 wanted, and leaving all other money concerns to 
 those around him. Sometimes, when Gilbert 
 hesitated to answer his demands, he flew into 
 abuse of their poverty, and expended his anger 
 upon the nearest recipient — as a rule, his son. 
 And then Gilbert, thinking of his enforced idle- 
 ness, his trying life, — for, if it were dull for 
 himself, what must it be to his father, whose
 
 UGLY IDOL 73 
 
 earlier life had been wrapped in luxury and 
 pleasure ? — gave in, and made up by extra work 
 in the evenings. As he rose in the office he 
 made more, of course, but then more went. 
 
 So they pottered on drearily, and that house 
 in West Kensington grew wearisome, and more 
 wearisome. Sundry things, too, disturbed Gilbert's 
 rest. Mr. Strode had taken to going down to 
 Tegart-Hoare's study, and his son, remembering 
 what had gone before, feared Stock Exchange 
 and speculations. Only, Tegart-Hoare was a 
 gentleman and disinterested, too shrewd a man 
 to lead either himself or his friends into a scrape. 
 Perhaps, Gilbert tried to think, he was a good 
 friend for his father. Then, when Mr. Strode 
 disappeared, he left his son in company with 
 Ella — it was always Ella. And Gilbert was 
 conscious of being taken possession of gently by 
 Mrs. Tegart-Hoare. He was pressed into all 
 kinds of services, asked to help here, to help 
 there, to hand Bibles at meetings, to be generally 
 useful. She wished to convert him, to lead him 
 unconsciously to be one of them ; because the 
 simple soul wished to save him from the gay 
 and flippant life his father had led ; wished, 
 she said, pressing his knee affectionately, that 
 he would take the place of her own lost son. 
 She lent him books to read, and it seemed as if 
 he were fast becoming one of the obedient 
 shadows that surrounded her. He submitted, 
 for his father's sake, and waited to see where it 
 was all leading to. He hated it, it disgusted him,
 
 74 UGLYIDOL 
 
 and once, when sitting tete-a-tete with Ella in 
 the drawing-room, he quite suddenly made up his 
 mind to leave the house there and then. His 
 father was occupied as usual downstairs in the 
 study, and he simoly said that he had an en- 
 gagement to keep, and must go away. Ella's 
 face fell. 
 
 'Must you really?' she asked with sincere regret. 
 
 He answered yes, but as Mrs. Tegart-Hoare 
 had a strange habit of pervading her house when 
 at home, he met her on the stair and was stopped. 
 
 ' Your father is still here,' she said. 
 
 ' I am really afraid I must keep my appoint- 
 ment.' 
 
 ' You will come and hang up those texts before 
 you go ? ' 
 
 ' I really haven't a moment ' 
 
 ' But if you wait I will take you with me in 
 the carriage and drop you.' 
 
 She retreated into her chin, well pleased with 
 the prospect of a conversation with him. The 
 fear of such an event drove Gilbert to ultimate 
 measures. 
 
 ' Very sorry,' he murmured, bolted past her 
 down the stairs, and was gone before any one 
 had time to stop him. The eldest son, emerging 
 quietly from the dining-room, caught a glimpse 
 of his flying figure, and followed it with a half- 
 shocked, half-longing eye. Ella was astonished, 
 her mother gasped for a moment or two, then a 
 dental convulsion brought her jaws together, and 
 she murmured, ' Poor dear boy ! '
 
 UGLY IDOL 75 
 
 Gilbert hurried off, afraid of pursuit, and did 
 not feel easy until the underground had taken 
 him a good distance away. His impulsive nature 
 was still trying to work its own way under the 
 coat of calmness which circumstances had thrust 
 upon him, and it still sometimes got the better of 
 him. The fire is the most dangerous that works 
 inwards. It was only that over-sensitiveness and 
 foolishness about him that made him passively 
 submit to be led a way he did not wish to go, 
 to be shoved into a compartment of life he did 
 not wish to inhabit. Then he sat down in 
 lonely melancholy, and wondered at his sadness 
 and dreariness. Inveterate muddler ; if one yet 
 gave him a choice, he would do what his father 
 wanted of him. 
 
 This afternoon he went straight from the 
 Tegart-Hoares' to Theresa's. 
 
 He found some people there, but slipped so 
 quietly into the room, that no one noticed that he 
 had not been there all the time. He listened 
 amusedly to the conversation, catching stray 
 words from different groups, much impressed with 
 the aimless, mirthless laughs that threaded the 
 buzz of voices. It was necessary to look unutter- 
 ably pleased at everything that was said ; and it 
 seemed to him that a person near him trimmed 
 her smiles according to her bonnet, which was of 
 a very bright and disconcerting pink. 
 
 1 Have you seen ' — (laugh) — ' the newest one- 
 man-show ? ' — (laugh). 
 
 1 No ' — (laugh, laugh).
 
 76 UGLY IDOL 
 
 ' Most extraordinary'. Very flat and wanting 
 in tone, to my mind, but one is fearfully behind 
 the times if one is surprised at artists' vagaries now. 
 I always know, when a thing looks frightfully out- 
 of-drawing, that it is the one to praise ' — (laugh). 
 
 Then some one else became audible to him, an 
 emphatic, uplifted voice. 
 
 1 Oh, but you are too hard, the world must have 
 something to gaze at, and the half of existence 
 that isn't the world has to provide it, or else where 
 should we be, and what would we land in ? ' 
 
 ' Knickerbockers ! ' squealed an ecstatic girl, 
 caught in the midst of an eulogy on rational 
 dress (laugh, laugh). 
 
 ' I don't quite understand,' said a soft voice that 
 struck familiarly on his ear. It sent a tingle 
 through him, and brought a vivid picture back to 
 his memory. He raised himself in his chair ; yes, 
 Mrs. Yorkc was sitting over there, not much 
 changed by the fifteen years that had passed 
 since he last saw her. The same indolent, 
 smiling triflcr. There was no reason why she 
 should look older, for she had been carried 
 through life very carefully by other people. 
 
 He sank back dreamily, remembering many 
 things he had forgotten, seeing the sunshine of 
 La Campagne Saleve shining far away. 
 
 ' You will be a very great artist some day, 
 Bertie.' He started up as this echo of a voice, 
 also forgotten, seemed to sound so closely to him. 
 A woman was sweeping her skirts over his out- 
 stretched foot, and was saying ' Beg pardon.' He
 
 UGLY IDOL 77 
 
 rose with a smile to apologise, and she paused in 
 turning, to look at him, a harassed endeavour to 
 recognise him in her eyes. 
 
 ' Gilbert ? ' 
 
 'Ah! Then you remember me ? ' he mumbled 
 idiotically. 
 
 1 Of course, or rather your smile,' and she 
 showed no disposition to go away. 
 
 He almost laughed to remember how com- 
 pletely he had forgotten Agatha ; how glad he 
 was to become aware of her existence again ! 
 He was astonished at the flood of conversation 
 that came so readily to his lips, at the pleasure 
 with which he listened to her as she recounted 
 simply the story of her life since they had parted. 
 She recalled to his mind this and that, laughing 
 a little, sadly, longingly, scrutinising with her 
 restless eyes while she talked all that passed 
 before her. 
 
 ' And do you remember the great future we 
 predicted for you ? ' A mirthless smile lighted 
 her lip for a moment. ' I have been expecting to 
 hear of you.' 
 
 He stiffened. ' Instead, it is Lester you have 
 heard of,' he growled. 
 
 A sudden gleam came into her eyes. * Lester ? 
 yes,' and she appeared to think. 
 
 He watched her, and it seemed to him that she 
 was very beautiful. Oh, something cried within 
 him, very beautiful! She was extremely fair; it 
 impressed him the more, as Ella displayed an 
 abundance of colour. His eye travelled over her
 
 78 UGLY IDOL 
 
 masses of light hair that looked white under the 
 black brim of her hat ; her white oval face with 
 its drooping brows, its wide mouth ; her big pale 
 eyes, that wandered with an uneasy harassment 
 over the people and articles in the room. There 
 was a narrowness about her brow, a troubled 
 melancholy in those never-still eyes, a suggestion 
 of passion about her altogether that is seen some- 
 times in these very fair women. He conceived 
 her in her fairness to be very beautiful. 
 
 ' We laughed at him when he was a boy,' she 
 said meditatively. ' And now he is so famous ! ' 
 
 ' Lester ? Yes.' He went on to speak about 
 him, and was charmed at the interest she took 
 in all he said, and there was something so 
 sympathetic in her close attention, that he drifted 
 away from Lester, and, led by her little questions, 
 spoke of himself. 
 
 ' I ? ' he began ; ' oh ! I have been doing 
 nothing.' 
 
 This nothing, however, took many minutes in 
 the telling, and, as when long ago he lay on his 
 back under the trees telling her sad stories, her 
 eyes filled in response and her face reflected his 
 expression. When he had finished there was a 
 slight pause ; then she said, with a touch of cold- 
 ness. 
 
 ' But, with your talents, you might have ' 
 
 Well, of course, it was natural that she, with 
 her adoration of greatness and success, should 
 feel a little scorn for a man who had fallen so 
 short, so lamentably short, of his promise.
 
 UGLY IDOL 79 
 
 At this moment a general stir and a quick 
 migration to the door denoted the entrance of 
 Lester. Agatha's restless eyes were arrested, they 
 gazed eagerly at him, at this great artist, this 
 painter of wonderful pictures, this hero of many 
 dreams. 
 
 The little man stood alone, smiling to right and 
 left, smiling very happily, for he saw a roomful 
 of people bowing before him. He paused to talk 
 to this person and that, and every one seemed to 
 fall under the magnetism of his presence ; every 
 one seemed to find his simple remarks, his glances, 
 his smiles, his gestures, very fascinating. Agatha 
 was not disappointed apparently to find him so 
 small, so fair ; on the contrary, his power, his 
 genius, seemed only the greater ; it seemed most 
 marvellously great by contrast. 
 
 This little man, inoffensive creature enough, 
 whose pointed face drooped under the pressure 
 of ill-health, and whom one would pass by with 
 a sniff in the street, had yet such a way with his 
 brush that decided the fate of a woman's life. 
 
 One crowded round him with trivial compli- 
 ments. They had all seen his last series of 
 studies ; how did he manage his combination of 
 realism and idealism ? His touch refined every- 
 thing — wonderful, magnificent ! Quite his best. 
 How did he manage his grey monotones, his 
 vivid effects of white light ? So charming. 
 
 Lester took it all in, and oddly enough it was 
 sincere : to be thoroughly insincere to him was 
 impossible, his simplicity prevented it. Yes, he
 
 80 UGLY IDOL 
 
 took it all in, he looked with a pleased smile 
 round about him, and lie was the centre of 
 attraction. He seemed to like this. 
 
 In looking about him his eye caught an earnest 
 face turned in his direction, and he paused to 
 observe it. He did not paint portraits, but a rare 
 face here and there appealed to him for some 
 quality, as a study of an unusual expression, and 
 then he said, ' I must paint it.' He looked again, 
 and Theresa saw a sudden glow of interest sparkle 
 in his eyes ; he saw plainly that this pale head 
 was what he wanted for his Genevra. He accord- 
 ingly walked straight across to Agatha and 
 entered into conversation with her without delay, 
 unconsciously watching her as she spoke. 
 
 ' You were not here last Friday ? ' he began 
 amiably. 
 
 ' Oh no. We have only just come home from 
 abroad, and of course it is impossible that you 
 should remember me.' 
 
 He did not remember her, but he said with an 
 engaging smile, his head a little on one side — 
 
 'Really! have I known you before? I hardly 
 think it possible, for I could not have forgotten 
 you ' 
 
 1 It was long ago,' she murmured, confused by 
 the steady gaze of his dark eyes. He looked at 
 her with evident interest ; the confusion was be- 
 coming to her. 
 
 ' It is pleasant to remake an old acquaintance,' 
 he said gracefully ; ' very pleasant,' he added, and 
 Agatha felt that his manner was fascinating.
 
 UGLY IDOL 81 
 
 But he did not talk much, he stood by and 
 listened. It was Gilbert, shaken out of his usual 
 reticence, that seemed to find no lack of conver- 
 sation. 
 
 Then Mrs. Yorke rippled like a summer wave 
 across the room. 
 
 1 1 ought to be going,' she said, sinking into a 
 comfortable chair and buttoning a glove. 
 
 ' That 's conscience,' said Graham, a youthful 
 protege? of hers at the moment. ' It 's a great ob- 
 struction in the path of life. Now my "ought," 
 if I have one ' 
 
 ' Is a gobbling monster that eats the hundreds 
 and tens and remains in open-mouthed solitude 
 at the end of the quarter ! ' 
 
 1 Ah,— exactly.' 
 
 ' It 's a convenient word,' said Theresa ; ' it re- 
 presents all the good one doesn't do.' She cast a 
 proprietary eye at Gilbert, and added, ' You have 
 rediscovered each other without my help, I see.' 
 
 1 What ? ' said Mrs. Yorke inquisitively, ' it 
 can't be Gilbert ? I should never have known it ! 
 I am delighted to meet you ! How is your father ? 
 Do tell me all you have been doing.' 
 
 Gilbert was embarrassed ; the odd happiness 
 he had experienced that afternoon had been of 
 quick birth, and died as easily. He determined 
 to escape at once, and he told himself bitterly 
 that this was what came of visiting Theresa. 
 How was he to own that his father was a broken 
 old man living in Penton Street ? 
 
 Theresa divined his feelings from his relapse 
 F
 
 82 UGLY IDOL 
 
 into awkwardness, and attracted Mrs. Yorke's 
 attention to something else. 
 
 1 My dear,' said this lady when out of ear-shot, 
 1 1 should never have known him if I hadn't met 
 him here. So plain ! and he was such a charming 
 boy ! He 's quite uninteresting ! ' 
 
 Theresa was pleased ; she disliked Mrs. Yorke, 
 and would have been inconsequently put out had 
 she admired Gilbert. 
 
 ' Yes,' she said, ' he is uninteresting, and a tall 
 man distinctly needs something to take one's 
 attention off his trousers.' 
 
 Mrs. Yorke fluttered a little, and was pleasantly 
 shocked. ' He certainly has long legs,' she re- 
 marked mildly. 
 
 Almost every one went away then, and Gilbert 
 was again aware of that atmosphere of aimless 
 laughing, but Theresa did not allow him to slip 
 out quietly, as had been his intention. 
 
 ' Do you know that you have only been here 
 about an hour ? ' 
 
 • It seems a long while, — but, I would rather go, 
 — it gives me a false position.' He blushed. 
 
 1 A man's social position is not cut and dried 
 like a woman's. Who is to know that you are not 
 an impecunious young artist like Graham ? ' 
 
 He shook his head. 
 
 1 Then why do you come at all ? ' she asked 
 unreasonably. 
 
 ' I have no place else to go ' ; he drew himself up, 
 and added quickly, ' that I care about particularly.' 
 
 And, yes, it was odd ; but it was at Theresa's
 
 UGLY IDOL 83 
 
 house, through Theresa, or with her in the back- 
 ground, that all the events of his life happened to 
 him, and yet it was really not her fault. 
 
 Gilbert looked back into the room, and saw 
 Agatha talking to Lester. He stayed. 
 
 ' Ah ! that is it ! ' Lester had just exclaimed, 
 in answer apparently to a thought of his own. 
 ' You are going to live in London long ? ' 
 
 1 Yes, I think so. Some months anyway.' 
 
 ' You have travelled at all ? ' he sat down 
 beside her, and his enticing little face was quite 
 close to hers, lit up with a wonderful smile. 
 
 'Yes, we have done nothing but travel for 
 years.' 
 
 'Ah! the south? Have you been to Algiers? 
 Yes ? One lives there ! Every particle of air seems 
 iridescent with colour and heat ! Life is deep- 
 tinted there, very gorgeous ... It is nice. Per- 
 haps,' he added, seeing little reciprocation on her 
 face, 'you did not care for it ? ' 
 
 ' No, it was too much. I wanted something 
 restful, colder, greyer. Really I am not very fond 
 of travelling, it gives one such a homeless, vagrant 
 feeling ; one makes no lasting friendships, you 
 know. I do enjoy, I would enjoy a home life, 
 where you settle down with well-known things 
 all round you ' ; she paused to see if Lester were 
 inclined to agree with her. She suggested 
 thoughts of her own, which easily gave way 
 before the decisions of others. 
 
 ' How odd ! ' exclaimed Gilbert, ' I would give 
 anything to travel.'
 
 84 UGLY IDOL 
 
 'Yes — but a woman's instincts are home- 
 making, aren't they ? ' 
 
 ' Why, hang it ! I think you are wrong,' said 
 Graham ; ' all the women I have ever known used 
 home as a place to be away from.' 
 
 Agatha said no more ; she dropped her light 
 eyes and thought, or listened to the warm, 
 thrilling voice of Lester. Women generally 
 listened to him, though he spoke low ; there was 
 that in his voice that attracts. 
 
 Then Mrs. Yorke, having put on her other glove, 
 and finding herself 'alone,' told Agatha that she was 
 really going, and impressed upon Gilbert that he 
 must come and visit them, and, of course, Mr. 
 Strode also. 
 
 ' It has been the very greatest pleasure to me 
 to come here,' said Agatha as she shook hands 
 with Lester, and he, looking into her eyes, saw 
 that she meant it. This woman did something 
 more than admire him ; a gratified smile hovered 
 round his lips. Somehow or another, he had 
 never felt this pleasure in any one's flattery, 
 adulation, or admiration before. And she had 
 a face that he must paint ; her pale face, his 
 intuitions told him, was the face capable of 
 expressing that despair which had evaded 
 his grasp ; yes, yes, he trembled as he looked 
 at her, he saw infinite possibilities in her light 
 eyes. 
 
 'You will come again soon?' he asked in his 
 form of question that was always a command. 
 ' I have several sketches of Algiers and these
 
 UGLY IDOL 85 
 
 places. And you will allow me some day to make 
 a sketch or two of your head ? ' 
 
 ' Of me ! ' she exclaimed astonished, and a flush 
 of extreme joy mounted to her masses of fair 
 hair. ' Is it possible that you find anything in 
 me worth painting?' 
 
 ■ Paint Agatha ! ' cried Mrs. Yorke, turning in 
 the doorway. 'Dear me, how charming! It's 
 an honour we shall fully appreciate. But we 
 really must go, it is getting so late, and the doctor 
 told me to avoid night-air. Did you bring my 
 cloak, Agatha, and my veil ? Do make haste, 
 dear, I 'm shivering.' 
 
 Agatha swept from the room to fetch her 
 mother's things, while this charming lady de- 
 scended the stair, still attended by Graham. 
 
 ' Remember me to your father, Gilbert, and do 
 look us up whenever you have time.' 
 
 ' Yes, I hope you will come. I always used to 
 visit you, it is your turn now to visit us,' Agatha 
 herself had added gracefully. 
 
 So every one went home, Mrs. Yorke tired and 
 fretful, Agatha with a beaming eye ; it had lost 
 its restlessness ; it had found something to look 
 upon, to live upon. Gilbert went home as happily 
 as possible. Poor eater of ice-cream, chaser of 
 butterflies, why should he not be happy ? 
 
 1 What is the pale woman's name?' asked Lester 
 of Theresa as they sat over the fire together. 
 
 1 Do you mean Agatha Yorke ? ' 
 
 ' Ah yes, that is it. Her face — did you notice 
 it? It was just what I wanted.'
 
 86 UGLY IDOL 
 
 ' Yes, she is a good subject. There is some- 
 thing ghostly, unfinished, and sad about her. No 
 wonder, with that mother.' 
 
 ' Yes — what I wanted,' murmured Lester. 
 
 1 Very well, I will ask her here. I am afraid 
 Mrs. Yorke will come too — and I do dislike her ; 
 she is as delusive as a pomegranate' 
 
 1 Oh,' said Lester. 
 
 What did Theresa's likes and dislikes matter 
 to him as long as he had what he wanted ? Per- 
 haps he did not realise that she had any. 
 
 ' The studio is in a dreadful mess,' she sighed 
 presently. ' Will you be working to-morrow ?' 
 
 ' Yes.' 
 
 ' But it will do you no harm to put it off for a 
 day and get the place cleaned.' 
 
 1 No, I shall want the room to-morrow,' he 
 answered, unconscious that he caused her any 
 inconvenience: 
 
 And then he wanted her to sit closer beside 
 him, and read to him. So she put aside her work 
 and read till he fell asleep. She gazed at him, 
 his fluffy hair spread out on the red cushion, and 
 thought him very beautiful. He opened his eyes, 
 caught her gaze, and a loving smile awoke in 
 response. ' Go on,' he murmured, and this 
 occurred until she was hoarse. 
 
 His effect upon Agatha was strange and sudden. 
 Her childhood, of course, had been very happy ; 
 she had lived in the world of ' Let 's pretend,' 
 which is a very happy place. Then, she admired 
 fine clothes, great riches, big men, and kings with
 
 UGLY IDOL 87 
 
 crowns and sceptres. All these things were very 
 much to her, for her nature was deep, dramatic, 
 narrow. Her narrowness of mind bound her 
 about, and she did not always follow Gilbert in 
 his wide flights of fancy. This narrowness is a 
 quality, not a fault in woman ; for some think it 
 bends the forces of her nature with more energy 
 in one direction ; she is not troubled with con- 
 flicting passions, these spider-like ' instincts ' and 
 inquisitive doubts that run about the world spin- 
 ning mischief ; in her narrowness, her singleness, 
 of mind she attaches her all, her passion, her love, 
 in one place, to one being, one ideal. 
 
 Of this kind is the Mary who watches at the 
 foot of the Cross. 
 
 But Agatha inevitably lost her kings and 
 sceptres, and found nothing else to take their 
 place. Her selfish little mother, so careless, so 
 happy, was not a person to replace these old 
 dreams or foster new ones. Agatha was brought 
 up to see life in a black coat and trousers, and 
 it was not very lovely. So she was an unhappy 
 girl, seeking for something she could not find, 
 aware of a void that nothing filled. She travelled 
 with her mother, here, there, all over the world ; but 
 her simple, gentle nature found no interest in this 
 various turmoil of peoples and lives ; she wearied 
 actually for quiet, for surroundings that did not 
 change unceasingly with this bewildering rapidity. 
 Her father was a restless man, but partly travelled 
 because his wife chafed at and tired of people and 
 things she saw too much of. This did not suit
 
 88 UGLY IDOL 
 
 Agatha, who, like a creeper, would better have 
 vegetated in one spot, and clung to a supporting 
 wall, embracing it with tendrils. . . . 
 
 She sought everywhere for this support and 
 could not find it : she transported her old love of 
 kings and sceptres to an intense adoration of great- 
 ness and success. A man who had achieved 
 something, had lifted himself above the level of 
 the common herd, who stood before the eyes of 
 the world on a pedestal of his own making, ap- 
 pealed to her — her savagery perhaps — that never 
 civilised little bit of nature that must have a 
 wooden idol to worship, or one to demolish. 
 
 Dear little idol, that one paints with one's 
 paints, studs with the jewels one likes best ! Dear 
 little ugly idol ! 
 
 In the midst of this, she saw for the first time 
 a picture of Lester's, and the minute she set eyes 
 upon it, something said in her, ' This is it.' She- 
 dreamt of this picture, and thought what manner 
 of man it must be who had such a way with his 
 brush. Yes, she looked at the thing, and thought 
 of the man behind it. She did not idealise the 
 picture, but she was ready to adore the man who 
 had painted it. 
 
 Then this afternoon she saw him, talked with 
 him, sat beside him, saw all her idealised fancies 
 in his little face, saw the greatness of his work 
 in his little physiognomy, and her restless eye 
 paused stilly in the seeing of these things. 
 
 Gilbert's short-sighted eyes had become won- 
 derfully wide-awake and far-seeing also. Quite
 
 UGLY IDOL 89 
 
 suddenly this fair, very pure, and exquisite woman 
 had come into the precincts of his dingy, dreary 
 life. She was thrown with exaggerated bright- 
 ness against the dull background, so suddenly. 
 He was a very warm - hearted man, and the 
 hardness of fate had no power to hurt the kindli- 
 ness of his soul. He blazed up at first contact 
 with Agatha, and illuminated her with a light of 
 his own making. 
 
 Dear little idol ! . . . 
 
 Arriving at home, he received his father's anger 
 for the first time with indifference — with, in fact, 
 a warm amiability on his face that astonished 
 Martha. 
 
 ' Understand that it is not to happen again, — 
 I won't have this impertinent disobedience, con- 
 founded impudence. Ella was quite upset, can't 
 insult the Hoares, most particular matter — great 
 importance — besides ' Mr. Strode ended in un- 
 heeded mumblings, and a good supper restored 
 his equanimity. 
 
 Afterwards Martha heard them laughing 
 merrily, talking, laughing, laughing ; they were 
 great company to each other at times, father and 
 son. But later Gilbert remembered that he had 
 work to do, and sat down to it with a sigh. Pen 
 did not write, blotting-paper was lost — pah ! this 
 damnable poverty ! His sudden glow of happi- 
 ness faded as he thought of the long perspective 
 of days at that detestable office that must pass 
 before he could see her again. He tore up his 
 paper in a rage, and hurled it in the fire.
 
 90 UGLY IDOL 
 
 After that, he took another sheet and finished 
 his work. He felt himself to be an unpicturesque, 
 disappointing man, his little passions generally 
 ended in the prosaically commonplace. 
 
 Next Saturday he determined he would act on 
 Mrs. Yorke's invitation, and go to see her. He 
 had no business to, and that was the charm of it. 
 
 1 Gilbert, where are you going ? ' asked his 
 father, turning round with one of his canaries on 
 his finger. 
 
 Gilbert knew that the mention of Mrs. Yorke's 
 name would only upset his father, so he simply 
 answered that he had made an appointment which 
 he was going to keep. 
 
 ' You are always away from home now. You 
 go out at least once a week, — tweet, tweet, pretty, 
 pretty — without telling me where you are. I 
 have a right to know where you go. I insist 
 upon it. I might need you ; I always do need 
 you. Besides, how am I to know whether your 
 friends are people I would approve of? I can't 
 allow it, — most selfish of you. I can't allow it, I 
 tell you. Do you hear?' 
 
 Mr. Strode was becoming cross, much too cross. 
 It frightened Gilbert, and for a moment or two 
 after an outburst, a blankness settled on his 
 face that was more alarming. This vagueness 
 was there now, and he murmured that he had 
 a headache. 
 
 1 After all,' Gilbert thought, ' it will do another 
 time, and he is not well to-day.' So he stayed at 
 home, and did everything he could think of to
 
 UGLY IDOL 91 
 
 bring the smile back to his father's face. And it 
 was not long in coming, for Mr. Strode was the 
 happiest person in the world, and his happiness 
 was of the catching kind that infects others. 
 
 This was very good of Gilbert perhaps, and he 
 repented it the very next time Agatha's face came 
 before him, and haunted his dreams. Penton 
 Street was murkier than it had ever been before, 
 the office more detestable, the thought of the 
 household in West Kensington unbearable. 
 
 It resulted in his journey one afternoon straight 
 from the office to the address Mrs. Yorke had 
 given him. 
 
 He found himself upon their doorstep, then in 
 a hall that glowed warmly with red light, then in 
 a drawing-room impregnated with Mrs. Yorke. 
 There was lace and drapery and etchings every- 
 where, china and grotesque things to relieve them. 
 The chief ornament in the room was Mrs. Yorke 
 herself, of course, and as she came forward to 
 welcome him he felt himself very big and ugly, 
 suddenly realised that his coat was shabby, and 
 heartily wished he had not come. 
 
 ' Delighted to see you, my dear boy. I am sure 
 I am very glad you have come, for I was nearly 
 asleep. It gets dark so early now. Agatha is 
 out, shopping for me ; I can't go out in this 
 weather myself. Let 's see. I am afraid the 
 chairs are all small ; but perhaps you can double 
 yourself up into this one. Graham generally uses 
 it. Your father must be proud of these inches,' 
 and she patted him kindly on the arm, wanted to
 
 92 UrGLY IDOL 
 
 know why his father had not come, and settled 
 herself again in her deep chair comfortably. It 
 was impossible to feel awkward long in her vicinity. 
 There was scarcely a man, old or young, who was 
 not enslaved by her charm, although, curiously 
 enough, many women failed to perceive it. Gilbert 
 marvelled at her youthfulness as he glanced across 
 at her, a fair, soft, Persian kittenish creature, whose 
 outward fur of conventionality saved her a great 
 deal of trouble and thought. 
 
 1 1 think we might poke the fire/ she said 
 indolently. 
 
 ' Let us make a nice blaze, and be cheerful. 
 Now, will you ring the bell ? — three times, or that 
 wretched Mary won't bring up tea till some time 
 to-morrow. What a serious person you are, 
 Gilbert ; do let me hear you laugh. Or are you 
 shocked at my frivolity ? ' 
 
 She pushed a footstool nearer the fire, and laid 
 two little slippered feet upon it. 
 
 1 No,' said Gilbert, with his eyes on the footstool. 
 
 1 You used to laugh so much ! Don't you 
 remember when you were supposed to see me 
 home ? What an odd, old-fashioned little cavalier 
 you were ! ' 
 
 1 Yes,' said Gilbert eagerly, ' I remember very 
 well. And you do not look a day older.' 
 
 1 My dear boy, you have forgotten.' 
 
 1 No,' he said, as he picked up her handkerchief, 
 ' I certainly have not. You are a bit of that sunny 
 landscape,' he added to himself dreamily, keeping 
 the soft, fine handkerchief between his fingers.
 
 UGLY IDOL 93 
 
 'You have not told me anything about your 
 father,' she remarked, recalling him with a jerk to 
 himself. He said that his father had very broken 
 health, went out very little, had, he emphasised, 
 entirely dropped his old circle of acquaintance. 
 It was sad, he thought as he spoke, that his father 
 had changed so much, fallen so far asunder from 
 his old associations, so that he had to excuse him 
 to Mrs. Yorke. He, Gilbert, had no business 
 there either, he had no place in her society, and 
 she would soon find that out. He bitterly deter- 
 mined that he would never go again. 
 
 ' What a pity ! ' said her trivial voice. ' One 
 must grow old some day, I suppose. You see 
 how much I suffer now ! But your father was a 
 sort of fairy prince : it is impossible to connect 
 age with him. And — your mother? Ah yes!' 
 she sighed ; but at the same moment she smiled 
 to herself; for that, at Campagne Saleve, had 
 been one of the most amusing incidents in her 
 life. 
 
 A servant brought in a tea-table, and Agatha 
 followed her, her hands full of parcels. Gilbert 
 handed Mrs. Yorke her handkerchief, with a 
 sudden awakening to the fact that it was still in 
 his hand, angry that, having come to see Agatha, 
 he had stayed talking with her mother, and had 
 been enjoying it very much. She received it with 
 a laugh ; anyway she had done better than sleep. 
 
 ' Ah, here you are, just in time to pour out tea ; 
 but first you might go upstairs and fetch me my 
 white shawl — or Mary can go.' Mrs. Yorke had a
 
 94 UGLY IDOL 
 
 charming habit of keeping those about her running 
 on her behalf. 
 
 Agatha shook hands with Gilbert, and sat down 
 at the table. Then they talked pleasantly about 
 everything and nothing, and Gilbert was surprised 
 to find himself chattering also. He listened to 
 every tone of her voice, and watched the fire-light 
 gleaming on her hair. 
 
 'My dear,' Mrs. Yorke was saying, 'you don't 
 want to go to that horrid dog-show? Well, I 
 can't go, and you can't go alone. Perhaps Theresa, 
 or Graham, or Terryll or somebody is going.' 
 
 ' I suppose you would not trust yourself to me,' 
 murmured Gilbert. 
 
 ' Oh yes ! capital idea ; Agatha never will go to 
 any place with Graham,' said her mother rising. It 
 did not matter to her who her daughter went with 
 so long as she had not to go herself. She left the 
 room complaining of draughts. 
 
 And now that he was left alone with Agatha, 
 he suddenly relapsed into an awkward silence. 
 His fascinated eye watched the fire-light leaping 
 up on her pale face, illuminating for an instant 
 the masses of blanc-cindre hair that nearly touched 
 her eyebrows. Neither was she much inclined to 
 talk. She accepted Gilbert as a sort of brother 
 whom she had not seen for a long time, and she 
 did not feel it necessary to talk politenesses to 
 him. There was a well-being on her face that 
 had not been there when he last saw her ; a com- 
 plete, full womanhood there was about her that 
 filled him with delight.
 
 UGLY IDOL 95 
 
 Presently she seemed to remember that he was 
 there. 
 
 ' After all our great dreams, Gilbert, you ' 
 
 1 I am in Stanley's. Yes, dreams are nothing.' 
 
 * But it is only temporary, I suppose. You have 
 not given up all your old ideas completely ? ' 
 
 ' Yes,' he answered grimly. ' I — have.' 
 
 * What a pity ! ' she said softly, mentally con- 
 trasting him, perhaps, with Lester. ' I am so 
 sorry, for I always used to feel a sort of partner- 
 ship in your doings. I looked forward to sharing 
 the pride of your success.' She laughed, and 
 looked across at him with her straightforward eyes. 
 
 1 She had felt a partnership in his doings, had 
 looked forward to his success,' and he had done 
 nothing. Perhaps she scorned him. 
 
 1 Agatha, if I begin again now, if I really work, 
 you know, I believe I could ' 
 
 ' Oh, yes, begin again ; you are so young yet. 
 And then — oh yes — how can you waste yourself 
 so at an office ? — haven't you a spark of ambition ? ' 
 
 This was the same Agatha that had egged him 
 on in his boyhood. 
 
 1 It would please you ? ' 
 
 1 Of course.' 
 
 'You really take an interest in my welfare 
 still ? ' 
 
 1 Of course,' she said again, looking at him in 
 surprise. 
 
 ' I will do it,' he muttered, and Agatha felt 
 pleased that she had roused him from his inaction. 
 
 He went away full of mighty resolves. He
 
 96 UGLY IDOL 
 
 would leave Stanley's ; he would continue his art 
 training ; he would illustrate in the meantime ; he 
 would win her approbation, and then he would . . . 
 
 He arrived home, and found his father very 
 angry. He retorted with a red streak of wrath 
 across his forehead. A great many things were 
 on the tip of his tongue. It seemed to him that 
 he had never been so angry before, never had so 
 much he wanted to say. He stood up straight, 
 collecting his forces, about to hurl a vigorous, 
 defying eloquence at his father's head, to silence 
 that babbling stream of childish ire. But he 
 stopped suddenly as he saw an expression of fear 
 growing on his father's face, which quickly grew 
 crimson with passion. He stopped and turned 
 away — ah! he turned away. His softness was 
 not equal to braving it out ; all these unsaid 
 things remained unsaid, and he turned away. 
 
 Why, he pondered bitterly, had he come across 
 Agatha? Why had she in a moment roused him, 
 seized his soul in her grasp, and held it so tightly ? 
 He had accustomed himself to his life; it would 
 have gone on and on, endurable. Then, quite 
 suddenly, she came and upset it all ; a little 
 curious push with her finger, and she had knocked 
 it all over. And it had been so difficult to build. 
 
 He would never see her again ; he must not 
 allow himself to be drawn into that nonchalant, 
 money-spending society. He was poor, poor, and 
 poor people were not given happiness. Happiness 
 was bought, like everything else ; it was not 
 given — nothing was given.
 
 UGLY IDOL 97 
 
 So he came and went, came and went again, 
 to and from the office. He crumpled his brow 
 over the wretched money affairs that were be- 
 coming more and more entangled ; he spent 
 sombre hours with Ella, and worried over his 
 father's odd behaviour. 
 
 Oh no ! it was better that he should not think 
 of Agatha. She had really very little to do with 
 him.
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 GILBERT was with Theresa in the drawing-room. 
 He turned his eager eyes always to the door, and 
 was but faintly aware that she was talking. For 
 him to be there on Saturday afternoons had 
 become an institution ; for Agatha to be there on 
 Saturday afternoons, sitting to Lester, was another 
 institution, and it frequently happened that they 
 left the house together; and Theresa, knowing 
 that Gilbert had few friends, endeavoured to make 
 the few hours he spent there every week as 
 pleasant and home-like as possible. 
 
 It seemed to him an unutterably long time 
 since Agatha had disappeared behind that door. 
 He heard a slight murmur of voices on the other 
 side, and that angered him unreasonably. Why 
 did she stay in there so long ? 
 
 Theresa was seated opposite him in an odd 
 attitude, her skirt tucked up and rolled round her, 
 and she was sewing with a thread that seemed to 
 knot often. Every now and then she travelled 
 round herself to sew another bit. 
 
 1 In unsophisticated days I envied the ancient 
 Greeks, and longed for draperies that are tied on 
 with a tape or two ; but now I have come to the 
 conclusion that it must be rather irksome to 
 
 98
 
 UGLY IDOL 99 
 
 travel through life holding on one's clothes as 
 they invariably do in pictures. I always want 
 to know what happened when they let go,' she 
 said. 
 
 1 1 expect they were sewed somewhere,' he 
 answered vaguely ; and his eye, returning from the 
 door for a moment, fell upon a spot on his coat. 
 It suddenly occurred to him that his coat was 
 shabby; would Agatha notice it? Of course. 
 Shabby ! that was the most sordid word in the 
 language, and it meant so much, just as this little 
 spot contained in itself a history. He scratched at 
 it furtively, the horrid stain. He thought with a 
 shiver that Graham was always well dressed, and 
 then he violently determined that, at all events, 
 that cad was not going to take her home, as had 
 already happened once or twice. He heard 
 Theresa chattering on, but paid no attention, and 
 hinted that it was tea-time, and that Agatha had 
 been sitting very long and would be tired. 
 
 She, however, did not look so. She was seated 
 in a big chair on the platform, and Lester was 
 making rapid sketches of her in different positions. 
 She watched in wonder as he rubbed out his work 
 with the duster again and again. 
 
 'It is singular,' he said to himself. 'Perhaps 
 — the other side.' 
 
 ' I wonder that you have chosen me to paint,' 
 she murmured, ' for I have been told that I have 
 very little expression. Do you find it so ? ' She 
 lifted her eyes anxiously. 
 
 1 No, not at all ; you have a face that answers
 
 ioo UGLY IDOL 
 
 when it is appealed to. That is the difficulty, 
 you change so often.' 
 
 He turned abruptly and gazed at her so that 
 she dropped her eyes again. Her face .seemed t<> 
 fascinate him, only it troubled him that she would 
 not look as he wished her to look, and yet he- 
 knew that she could, lie tried her with many 
 expressions, but never roused that one of which 
 he was in search. 
 
 She was silent ; she seldom spoke much. Once 
 already a whole afternoon had passed without her 
 saying more than perhaps six words. It was so 
 wonderful to sit lip there, to be painted by him, 
 to be the object of his regard, the sole subject of 
 his thoughts, perhaps, at that moment; to be the 
 means, as his model, through which the greatness 
 of his genius was made known to the world. She 
 watched him working, in silence. She thought 
 that he worked very hard, and her eye roamed 
 Over the easels with half-finished pictures on them. 
 
 It might happen that some day he would 
 
 realise the rich field he had to himself, for he 
 could do with her what he liked, and she was 
 all his. 
 
 ' I think you are tired,' he said presently. 
 'Come down for a moment and take a rest'; he 
 held up his hand to help her. 
 
 'All these sketches, all that work, is for no- 
 thing ? ' she exclaimed, pointing to the studies that 
 he had thrown aside. 
 
 1 They will not do. You — what is it about 
 you? You never look as I wish you to! Yet.
 
 UGLY IDOL 101 
 
 I am certain that you could. I know it. I am 
 never mistaken. Look at me again.' 
 
 She tried to keep her eyes steady, but they 
 sank gradually, for she felt as though he were 
 looking through her, through her at something 
 beyond. Her face drooped as a withering lily on 
 its stem as she stood before him, clearly defined 
 against the big bare wall beyond. 
 
 ' What is it ? What do you see ? ' she asked 
 tremblingly, a little frightened. 
 
 ' Yes ! ' he cried. ' You arc beautiful ! Now I 
 see that you are beautiful,' and he gazed at her 
 rapturously. 
 
 A crimson blush grew over her face, but she 
 answered, ' No, no, you are making a mistake ; it 
 is only you who see me that way.' 
 
 Only you ! a smile of pleasure trembled on her 
 lips as she said it. 
 
 He did not listen to her, he was buried in his 
 own thoughts. Then he suddenly darted away 
 to another subject ; he showed her sketches and 
 pictures. He talked descriptively of them, and 
 kept his dark eyes upon her watchfully and 
 disappointedly, but drinking in her praise with 
 open ears. He sought for her to say something 
 of each, waited for her comments ; he had never 
 been praised quite in this way by any one else, 
 and it was very enjoyable. Undoubtedly her 
 company afforded him a very great pleasure. 
 
 ' Yes, that is a study of greyness. You like it ? 
 The sky here is often so grey ; it broods over a 
 big city and sees all its vices — all the filthiness
 
 102 UGLY IDOL 
 
 rises up and covers everything with its miserable 
 greyness. Grey is the colour of sadness ; you, — 
 yes, — you are like a spirit of sadness, — like this ; 
 see, — your hair should be looser,' — his own 
 nervous fingers tugged at it so that it fell down 
 a little round her face. 
 
 Half-muttered fragments of ideas escaped him. 
 One could see in his eyes how quickly his 
 thoughts travelled. 
 
 ' It is like a winter's sun in mist, a veil of 
 tears perhaps ; — no it is not despair ; it will not 
 do,' and he sighed deeply. 
 
 It is impossible to say hew long he would have 
 kept her there— until probably he felt tired and 
 the light failed. But Theresa went to the door 
 and knocked when she thought it was time that 
 he should stop, for she feared that he would 
 over-work and over-tire himself, and Lester's 
 health had to be guarded with great care. 
 Gilbert followed Ther 
 
 1 How have you been getting on?' 
 
 ' 1 have clone nothing/ said her brother a little 
 
 petulantly. 
 
 'No,' whispered Gilbert to Agatha, 'he has not 
 done you justice.' 
 
 She was gathering her hair into its knot again, 
 and simply looked up at him in silent disagree- 
 ment. 
 
 ' I am sorry. You must try again another day,' 
 said Theresa ; but Lester lingered near the easel, 
 vaguely fingering his brush. 
 
 1 Lester, you have a headache, you are tiring
 
 UGLY IDOL 103 
 
 yo»r eyes. Wait till she comes again, perhaps 
 she will be in the mood you want her. She is 
 not to-day ' 
 
 ' No, I shall not get it to-day.' 
 
 'Well then, dearest, will it not be better to 
 wait ? ' 
 
 ' Yes — I am tired,' and having got him to own 
 this, Theresa knew that he would be obedient. 
 At times he declared that he was not tired, and 
 then no argument would move him ; if urged too 
 far he simply locked the door, and she would 
 have to go away, to loiter outside in the passage, 
 useless, to be told by the doctor that if she were 
 not more careful of him she must take the 
 consequences. She looked round the room now 
 with a despairing eye, noting the various pictures 
 in different stages of completion. It did not 
 seem as if he would ever finish any of them ; yet 
 never in his life had Lester left a thing unfinished. 
 
 This afternoon, of course, Gilbert took Agatha 
 home. Unfortunately the walk was not very long. 
 
 ' Let us walk quick, Gilbert, I am afraid of 
 meeting Graham.' 
 
 1 Do you not like him ? ' 
 
 ' No, not at all ; I cannot understand how 
 mamma puts up with so much of him ; he is so 
 coarse beside ' and there she paused. 
 
 1 Beside ? ' queried Gilbert quickly. 
 
 4 Any one else I know.' 
 
 Gilbert took the lame conclusion to himself, 
 and quivered with joy. Her meaning was very 
 plain.
 
 104 UGLY IDOL 
 
 ' I do not care for him cither ' he mumbled, 
 feeling a necessity to talk, even about nothing, 
 because the way was so short. ' His drawing is 
 trashy stuff, too ; he has not even the art to make 
 his subjects, you know — only just — disagreeable. 
 I believe he tries to imitate Lester.' 
 
 ' Imitate Lester! Would any one dare to do 
 that?' 
 
 How warmly she always sympathised with him! 
 
 'Oh yes, they are good for the critics, who 
 get a dash at Lester through them sometimes. 
 Luckily he knows nothing of it.' 
 
 ' No, these little matters are below him.' 
 
 'Yes, 1 cried Gilbert enthusiastically. 'I never 
 saw anyone before who accepted him in the right 
 light ; he is as misjudged a man as Zola, and 
 people try to measure him by their own little 
 tape-measures.' 
 
 Agatha agreed very warmly to this, and added 
 other comments of her own to which he also 
 
 agreed. It seemed to him, in fact, that they 
 always did agree warmly with each other, and 
 Agatha entered heartily into all he said. And, 
 great God! what a lot he said; always on the 
 most prosaic subjects, or searching for her likes 
 and dislikes. This eager, emphatic person, with 
 glowing eye, was certainly a pleasant companion 
 to her, for she did not understand anything that 
 was not earnest, and her effect upon him was to 
 make him invariably so: if an irony escaped him, 
 she did not perceive it. He would have been 
 very easily repulsed ; most women, indeed, drove
 
 UGLY IDOL 105 
 
 him further and further into his shell by their 
 polite, indifferent, strained manner to him. It 
 was not so much that he was plain, but he was a 
 bear. By which is meant, is it not, the stolid 
 person who is apparently incapable of compre- 
 hending just those nice little things that salt life 
 and make it tasty ? 
 
 1 He is uneducated ; he has no woman-kind of 
 his own, you know. But I could educate him ; 
 he is a little heavy on hand,' said Mrs. Yorke to 
 Graham, who was a distant relative of her 
 husband's whom she was asked to 'mother' while 
 he was in town, to keep him from evil ways. 
 
 'I never meet him any place, — he's oldish, I 
 suppose ? ' 
 
 1 Not your age, my dear boy. Why, I might be 
 his mother.' 
 
 ' Impossible ! ' 
 
 ' But do you know that I am forty ? ' 
 
 'That's only over twenty, isn't it? I'm over 
 twenty too. Jove ! charming ! I begin to like 
 arithmetic' 
 
 ' It is odd that you have never learnt that two 
 and two make four, in the matter of money.' 
 
 ' I have learned that one and one make two, 
 you know.' 
 
 1 Bad boy, I don't doubt it.' 
 
 Mrs. Yorke jumped up from her chair, saying, 
 ' Here they are. Gilbert seems to me to be im- 
 proving already.' 
 
 She was really a very youthful-looking woman ; 
 she might have been anything under thirty-four.
 
 106 UGLY IDOL 
 
 Gilbert lingered on the doorstep of the house, 
 in no hurry to go away. 
 
 1 Are there any books you want changed at the 
 library ? ' 
 
 ' Yes, but do not bother about it, I will go my- 
 self to-morrow.' 
 
 1 Don't you trust me ? You never used to 
 hesitate to make use of me,' he answered, smiling. 
 
 ' You had nothing more important to do then.' 
 
 ' Nor yet now,' he added quickly. 
 
 ' You are very obliging,' Agatha said, with her 
 gentle smile, and disappeared for a moment to 
 fetch some books about which she gave him in- 
 structions. And he went away well content, 
 thinking of the frank, pleased smile she had 
 thrown at him. He cuddled it, and fostered it, 
 until it grew and grew in his passionate soul to 
 just such a size as he wished it to be. 
 
 Gilbert's even persistence had overcome Mr. 
 Strode's opposition, who accepted his son's 
 absence every Saturday afternoon now as a 
 matter of course, and, being occupied with his own 
 affairs, did not inquire whither he went or what 
 he did. He seemed to have forgotten that it had 
 ever been otherwise. He was at present engaged 
 on a work which he was going to present to 
 one of Ella's very Anglican aunts, a person 
 associated with an Anglican Sisterhood which Mrs. 
 Tegart-Hoare tolerated and gave to because, at 
 least, it was religion. Mrs. Tegart-Hoare, being 
 so good, could not resist ' giving ' to this wealthy 
 charity, and in return she told her sister what the
 
 UGLY IDOL 107 
 
 boys wanted for Christmas presents. A telescope, 
 a photographic kit, surgical instruments for Willie, 
 which articles the sister gave with violent complain- 
 ings to the other half-dozen sisters about expense. ' 
 
 Mr. Strode was employed in concocting a land- 
 scape for the chapel creche. He laughed over it 
 a great deal with Gilbert, but he could not help 
 being charming to any one in whose presence he 
 found himself, and the whole Tegart-Hoare 
 household agreed that, whatever he might have 
 been in his youth, he was a most delightful man 
 now. Others said that one could see what he had 
 been as a boy — some ladies' highest praise. Why, 
 of course, Mr. Strode's youth was imperishable ; 
 one could see quite well in old boy what young 
 boy had been. 
 
 Martha objected to this landscape very much ; 
 some coals were taken from her economical little 
 heap, and were covered with papier-mdchc' for 
 the ground-work of mountains ; next she was 
 asked to knit very tightly some brilliant green 
 wool that Gilbert bought, which was boiled after 
 and fuzzed out for trees. She watched her masters 
 in wonderment as they spent the whole evening 
 with sleeves turned up and dirty fingers over this 
 child's-play. Mr. Strode's merry tongue wagged 
 briskly, and sudden appreciative undertones of 
 laughter came from Gilbert now and then. But, 
 as a rule, he was thinking of other things, and 
 sometimes care forced itself upon him, weighed 
 upon his brow, and his mouth twitched in meagre 
 response to his father's chatter.
 
 108 UGLY IDOL 
 
 When the landscape was finished a screen of 
 paper was put before it, and one looked at it 
 through a small hole. 
 
 They took it to the Tegart-Hoares. Mrs. 
 Tegart-Hoare glanced at it askance, and thinking 
 all these things wicked, endeavoured t<> abstract 
 
 it, but her sister, accustomed to her ways, guarded 
 it vigilantly. Tegart-Hoare was interested in it, 
 and had progressed from modelling to a discussion 
 on art when his wife swept past him. and he be- 
 came aware <>f his backsliding. He stopped 
 abruptly. 
 
 1 Marmaduke, Stark says the mare is ill, but I 
 require the carriage, W ill j about 
 
 it ?' 
 
 The shadow disappeared. 
 
 Ella admired it, and listened with int. 
 while Gilbert patiently explained how it was 
 d< me. 
 
 'How clever you are!' she exclaimed, 
 at him with admiring brown eyes. 
 
 ' It is very simple,' he answered, suppr 
 yawn. 
 
 ■ Frank!' shouted Ella through the open door. 
 'Do come and look at this lovely crick*, it 's like 
 a doll's theatre.' 
 
 ■ Ella-hl' gasped Mrs. Tegart-Hoare. 
 
 Marmaduke returned, and said that the marc 
 could not be used. ' Weight of the carriage and 
 its occupant,' he drawled, running his eye over 
 his wife's figure, so that Mr. Strode smiled and 
 ruffled his white hair, ' i^ certainly too much for
 
 UGLY IDOL 109 
 
 her at present. It's not altogether the weight of 
 your sanctity that counts,' he murmured, turning 
 away. 
 
 Then he and Mr. Strode disappeared down- 
 stairs ; Mrs. Tegart-Hoare and her sister went 
 away also, and Gilbert was too much engrossed in 
 his own thoughts to note the meaningful nods 
 and fragmentary remarks that passed between 
 them. Ella sat down beside the fire and 
 crocheted. There was a nice matronly look 
 about her when she engaged herself in a quiet 
 occupation like this, but her talk was wearying. 
 Gilbert suddenly asked if she played, and, pleased 
 with this attention, she swung across the room to 
 her grand piano, and performed a carefully 
 tutored piece or two. Gilbert sat deep in his 
 chair, and thought of Agatha: she was so unlike 
 Ella; she appeared to him exceedingly beautiful, 
 impossibly beautiful, as he figured her to himself 
 in the Tegart-I ioare's drawing-room. 
 
 Agatha, also, spent her time in dreaming ; it is 
 apparently a thing that every one does. She 
 always had dreamt, but now it was difficult to 
 tell which was dream and which was actual, and 
 it did not matter. People knew, of course, that 
 Lester had chosen to consider her as worthy of 
 his attention — that, in fact, she was sitting to him. 
 They thereupon discovered that she was very 
 beautiful, and she complained to Theresa that she 
 was never left alone. 
 
 ' If you get stuck on a pedestal, you must ex- 
 pect people to try and see what 's on the top,' was
 
 no UGLY IDOL 
 
 the answer, delivered with the sharpness Agatha 
 never understood. She wondered how he came 
 to have such a dreadful sister, and why he loved 
 her so much. And Theresa did not care for 
 Agatha any better. ' One of those insipid women 
 like tepid tea that men rave about, because they 
 have no passions or unpleasant idiosyncrasies to 
 disturb their selfish little souls' was her opinion. 
 
 People, of course, put Lester's choosing down 
 to his madness, because, said the beskirted half, 
 observing sundry male eyes turned in Agatha's 
 direction, 'don't you think she's too pale to have 
 the real beauty of a blonde? Her mouth is 
 really very large, and her eyes are dreadfully 
 lightl Hut still, she's sweet, isn't she? if she 
 weren't a i solemn.' 
 
 Agatha vaguely wondered why she was looked 
 at curiously by so many, but she did not think 
 of it much ; these things were outside her, quite 
 outside; but Mrs. Yorke found the position in- 
 teresting. 
 
 ' I shouldn't wonder, you know,' said Graham, 
 'when you get a genius and a woman like that — 
 they seem two oddities rather well met.' 
 
 ' Poor Theresa ! ' whispered some one el 
 
 These little phrases germinated and sent up 
 shoots; there must always be something interest- 
 ing where a man and a woman are concerned. 
 
 Next time Agatha went to the studio Lester 
 said that he had been waiting for her, — why had 
 she not come sooner ? 
 
 ' I thought you were busy,' she answered.
 
 UGLY IDOL in 
 
 His smile was bright, for he always seemed 
 pleased to see her, and with a quaint courtesy he 
 led her to her chair. He had begun another 
 picture of her. His intuition told him that he had 
 here something most entirely feminine ; and al- 
 though she had never yet looked as he wished 
 for Genevra, she had other interesting expressions. 
 He had not given up his supreme idea, he never 
 gave up anything ; some day she would have to 
 come up to his demands, to show him the despair 
 he needed to see before he could paint his picture, 
 unless he found another more competent than she. 
 
 ' It looks like a Madonna,' she said when she 
 came down from the platform, and regarded the 
 Simple figure in blue which was beginning to 
 appear upon the canvas. ' Only it is just a 
 woman. What is it ? ' 
 
 'It is a woman,' he answered. He never dis- 
 cussed his pictures ; he expected her to admire it, 
 that was all. ' An Eastern woman. They are more 
 wholly women, the Orientals, than ours, aren't 
 they ? ' 
 
 Agatha wanted to know what it meant, but he 
 was not paying attention to her, his eyes roamed 
 restlessly over the room. 
 
 • " My soul doth " — no, I forget, — Theresa will 
 remember it' 
 
 ' " My soul doth magnify the Lord " ? ' 
 
 4 Yes, that 's it,— but look,— look at this bust ! ' 
 he cried, calling her to a table that had been 
 covered over. He looked up into her face, waiting 
 for her to comment upon it.
 
 M2 UGLY IDOL 
 
 ' Hut why do you alwa) s want me to pr 
 your things? Why do you always want me to say 
 u Very pretty"? You know I can't — it's so absurd.' 
 
 He lifted his head, gratified, but at that 
 moment an inadvertent movement of her hand 
 shook the table, the bust rolled unsteadily, and 
 fell with a crash "ii the iloor. 
 
 He started, and she gazed with fear at the 
 
 light thai grew in his eyes. 
 1 Broken ! ' 
 
 She skeined to DC scorched by the hot 
 
 of th' '•<• t \ e ~. 
 
 ' Broken! ' 
 
 lie stamped on some fragments; he told her 
 how precious it had bii-n, that it could never be 
 replaced, that she had broken it, his bust ; he 
 
 raved, he stamped, he ilcw up and down tin- room 
 
 le himself; perhaps hi- would like t«> kill her. 
 
 She did not know him, nor these terrible out- 
 
 burstS that came on his nervous nature ; she took 
 every word he said to heart, and such was her 
 belief in his greatness, that she felt she had com- 
 mitted a sin in the breaking of this bust. 
 
 She fell on her knei :s and held up her hands, 
 in a shrinking from the blow she thought his 
 clutching hands would deal her. 
 
 ' Oh,' she cried, ' forgive me, 1 did not mean it !' 
 
 lie paused, reeled a little, and put out a hand 
 dizzily. 
 
 • 1 le is ill,' she thought in alarm, and taking the 
 hand led him to the sofa. He lay down, and she 
 knelt beside him, at a loss what to do. Then he
 
 UGLY IDOL 113 
 
 opened his eyes, and saw her kneeling beside him, 
 and his regard fixed itself upon her face. He 
 noticed the tears that still quivered on her lashes ; 
 and her sorrow; and looking at her his eyes began 
 to sparkle again. He sat up. 
 
 1 Like that ! That is better ! Yes, — yes,' he 
 cried, unconscious of the fragments of white stuff 
 that lay round his broken bust. He put his hand 
 in her disordered hair, and lifted it gently to see 
 her face. 
 
 ' Very beautiful ! ' he whispered, caressing her, 
 still with his fingers in this shining hair. Then 
 he turned to his easel, and worked there in silence, 
 the scratch, scratch of his crayon being the only 
 sound in the room. 
 
 She, confused by the rapidity of his moods, 
 was scarcely aware of anything but that his 
 embrace had been round her, and that, at present, 
 she must not move. The position was very 
 trying, but she would have stayed there for ever. 
 
 A deep silence filled the big, bare room. In 
 the window, not far from the broken fragments of 
 plaster, Lester drew quickly ; in the middle of 
 the floor Agatha knelt, her pale face raised to 
 the light, a sofa of blue colour near her, behind 
 an expanse of grey wall. 
 
 When she rose to go, she begged again to be 
 forgiven for the breaking of the bust. He gazed 
 at her wearily for a moment, and his eyes followed 
 hers in the direction of the fragments. 
 
 ' Oh, never mind,' he said with a regal smile, and 
 she admired his generosity, his greatness of nature. 
 
 H
 
 ii 4 UGLY IDOL 
 
 The sittings were interrupted for a week, for 
 when she came again, accompanied this time by 
 her mother, the studio was being cleaned, and 
 Lester had been told by Theresa that he was not 
 well enough to work. The windows were open, 
 and clouds of dirty, charcoally dust swirled in the 
 air, and it was evident that she was not wanted. 
 However, Lester appeared in the dining-room 
 doorway, and seeing her, found a million little 
 things to say and do that kept her there for the 
 afternoon. When he was not occupied in his 
 studio, he was busy over little things that never 
 came to any apparent finish, nor had any apparent 
 
 object, things that sometimes even appeared 
 somewhat foolish. He was extremely sociable 
 when not working, and did not care to be left 
 alone ; Theresa felt therefore relieved that Agatha 
 
 should take her pi 
 
 Gilbert arrived as usual, and helped Theresa in 
 the studio, while Mrs. Yorke hovered round the 
 door, issuing a mild flood of gossip, endeavour- 
 ing to entice Gilbert into an entertaining con- 
 versation. But finding him too preoccupied, she 
 resolved to go away. 
 
 'Do let me do something,' she turned to 
 with an aimless flutter of lacy sleeves. These 
 little gestures of hers gave a confiding birdy im- 
 pression, a fluffy dependence upon others that 
 was charming — quite too charming. 
 
 ' And now,' said Theresa when she was gone, 
 ' Let us work a little. I think that board may be 
 intrusted to the servants ; and can you reach the
 
 UGLY IDOL 115 
 
 shelf without steps? You should be a librarian, 
 Gilbert ; your faculty of reaching high shelves 
 would be appreciated.' 
 
 He looked down at her, about to answer, when 
 the sound of Agatha's voice came from the 
 distance, and at that such a transparent happiness 
 shone on his face that it attracted her attention. 
 
 1 What are you looking so silly about ? Do 
 you contemplate suicide or marriage ? ' And then, 
 being extremely businesslike when at work, she 
 added, with a whisk of her apron, ' Come, come, 
 pile these loose pages together, to be thrown away.' 
 
 But presently, it seemed to her that he was 
 peculiarly silent, and turning sharply she saw 
 him sitting, his legs stretched out before him, the 
 linsorted heap at his side, six or seven sketches 
 upon his knees. 
 
 ' I should have remembered how useless a man 
 always is. I had an erroneous conception that 
 y ill were useful.' 
 
 He started. ' Are all these — to be — thrown 
 away ?' 
 
 ' I think I said so half an hour ago.' 
 
 *Oh,' and he began mechanically to sort them out. 
 
 ' Why ? ' 
 
 ' Oh nothing.' 
 
 ' I must help, I suppose. It's odd, but I always 
 have to do my own business in the long-run. 
 Agatha, Agatha, Agatha — bless me! how many 
 more ? — what, — Gilbert ! ' 
 
 Theresa stood up and quivered like those dolls 
 on wires that go by machinery.
 
 u6 UGLY IDOL 
 
 ' Oh, don't take them from me ! ' he cried 
 piteously, and, falling on his knees, he sought for 
 them with eager hands. 
 
 Then for a quarter of an hour he held forth to 
 Theresa, his hot face close to hers, a general air 
 of emotion and gesticulation about him that re- 
 minded her of his foreign blood. She listened, — 
 and an undercurrent of other thoughts occupied 
 her at the same time. This sort of thing was not 
 for her, even if she wished it ; this terrible happi- 
 ness of youth was as far away from her ;is though 
 sin: had never been young. Perhaps sh c - envied 
 him his one freedom, the freedom to love like 
 this, with his whole soul, his whole being. Hut 
 she had Lester still ; sh led him with an 
 
 unnecessary sadness, for, after all, it had nothing 
 to do with her. 
 
 'Yes,' s.u'd Gilbert, with an idiotic smile, ' I am 
 happy. 1 
 
 Ah ! ah ! petit papillon bleu ! 
 
 Looking at him, his excited eyes thinking of 
 the hopelessness of it, of this poor wretch daring 
 to love his Agatha, Theresa internally doubted 
 the verity of this statement. Then, also, she 
 knew that he had no lack of energy, in perverted 
 causes, no want of a will which he used wrongly; 
 a very warm, tender heart, but a diseased thing 
 that went all wrong. His emotions burnt into 
 him, and they were very fierce, and she wondered 
 where the folly would end. 'He is so upside- 
 down and inside-out and wrong-way-round and 
 pig-headed,' she meditated.
 
 UGLY IDOL 117 
 
 She proceeded to lecture him. She pointed out 
 that he was poor, that he did not live in Agatha's 
 society, that he only came to her, Theresa, as 
 an old friend, quite independent of society ; that 
 Mrs. Yorke would most certainly object ; that, in 
 fact, it was an utter impossibility. And then 
 she brutally wanted to know whether Agatha 
 had given him any encouragement. He poured 
 such a torrent of evidence of this fact upon her 
 that she retreated into silence. 
 
 What a lot of life one lives in a month some- 
 times! how one races along, so happy, so reckless, 
 chasing — chasing a blue butterfly ! 
 
 All this time Agatha was with Lester; and when 
 Theresa saw her sitting beside Gilbert on the sofa 
 at tea, with the same shining, far-away eye that 
 she had noted in him, she concluded, that their 
 happiness was horrid to look on at, and relapsed 
 into a morose silence. ' He looks as handsome as 
 he used to be,' she said to herself with a snarl. 
 
 ' Will you take my arm, it is so slippery ? ' said 
 Gilbert to Agatha when he took her home. She 
 did so, and he felt the little gloved hand on his 
 sleeve. 
 
 ■ Don't be afraid,' he added, as she felt for her 
 steps, ' I 'm here; I will hold you up, lean on me.' 
 Saying this, the radiant but short-sighted boy 
 slipped and tumbled himself. 
 
 Agatha laughed a little, and said, ' I hope you 
 have not hurt yourself? Are you quite sure?' 
 
 How thoughtful she was ! 
 
 ' I am afraid you will not depend on me now.'
 
 n8 UGLY IDOL 
 
 1 Yes, I do; that was only an accident. I always 
 feel safe with you, you are so big, — or, at least, tall.' 
 
 And this delighted him. 
 
 Somehow it never entered into his head to 
 doubt that she returned his love. It did not 
 matter, he was quite happy in the fact that he 
 loved her, and her conduct had never been such 
 as t<> give rise to any doubts. 
 
 A month, two months, glided by, unnoticed by 
 an)- one ; every one was busy. Mr. Strode smiled 
 
 and talked to Tegart-Hoare in the study; Tegart- 
 
 llo.ne talked to his wife, she to Ella, Ella to 
 Gilbert, and Gilbert to himself; he was g e ner a lly 
 half asleep when Ella spoke to him. On the 
 other hand he found much business concerning 
 
 Agatha ; he had slid into a place beside her. lie- 
 it was who did this and that for her and her 
 mother— particularly, somehow, for her mother. 
 Mrs. Yorkc took advantage of what she conceived 
 to be his excessive good-nature to make a slave 
 of him, and having achieved this, she discovered 
 he was one of those people that improve upon 
 knowing. Agatha grew to depend upon him 
 also ; he was always there to do these little things 
 that no one else wants to do. ' Oh, ask Gilbert, he 
 is sure to know,' one grew into the habit of saying, 
 and it saved a great deal of trouble. He fetched 
 and carried and was happy ; he did not speak 
 much, for he read in her smile her kindly welcome 
 of him, all that made words seem, to him, un- 
 necessary. She accepted him without a thought, 
 liked his company, and — well, of course, he was
 
 UGLY IDOL 119 
 
 as a brother to her. She asked him innocently 
 why he never came when other people were there, 
 on ' At home ' days, and he mumbled that he could 
 not get away from the office. He took his three 
 weeks' holiday at a time of year that the other 
 clerks did not want it, for since he could not 
 afford to go into the country now, it did not 
 matter. He spent them in a happy and unhealthy 
 manner, travelling by underground between Pen- 
 ton Street and Holland Park, in which locality 
 both the Schellesses and Mrs. Vorke lived. He 
 saw a great deal more of Agatha than ordinarily, 
 for Lester was ill, and consequently had no need 
 of her. Gilbert put her absent-mindedness and 
 dreaminess down to everything but this circum- 
 stance. 
 
 Yes, Lester was ill, and Theresa became un- 
 bearable to every one. 
 
 'What time is it?' he would ask, after Theresa 
 had spent hours in vainly endeavouring to interest 
 him in something. 
 
 4 Half-past three.' 
 
 He lay gazing at the ceiling. 
 
 ' The bell keeps ringing,' he remarked presently. 
 
 ' People leaving cards, I expect. Does it annoy 
 you ?' 
 
 ' Oh no,' but he seemed to have a thought in 
 his mind that he did not utter. 
 
 ' I think perhaps I had better do this or that,' 
 she would say half to herself, in the hopes of 
 catching his ear. 
 
 ' Don't trouble,' he would reply drearily.
 
 izo UGLY IDOL 
 
 Then she would do something else ; she would 
 get Caspari to come with his violin and play some 
 of his exquisite music in the- next room. This 
 was found to be too exciting for Lester; it did 
 not soothe him or send him to sleep, it touched 
 the hair-spring of his being, and sent all his 
 nervous little wheels revolving giddily. And then, 
 having nothing better to do, he gazed at Thi 
 and discovered that she was plain. 
 
 ' What a pity it is that yOU are not prettier!' he 
 said. 
 
 ' But you love me in spite of that? 1 she asked 
 
 anxiously, her face more than usually pud 
 with pain. 
 
 'Yes, of course,' he answered, with a loving 
 
 smile, and she was repaid for a day of v. 
 
 attendance upon his every wish and want. 
 
 The Vorkes came to ask after him, and he, 
 hearing then . called to Theresa that he- 
 
 would like to see them, and she found him tranquil 
 after the visit. 
 
 ' I .suppose he gets tired of me, always me. 
 \ , it is natural ; still it is horrid that other 
 people should have so much more effect on him 
 than [.' 
 
 Agatha pleased Lester. Her face was a con- 
 tinual delight to him, and he told her often that 
 she was beautiful. He seemed to miss her when 
 she was not there, and looked for her coming, 
 perhaps because he read unconsciously her admira- 
 tion of him in her eyes ; at all events her presence 
 filled him with a sense of complete satisfaction.
 
 UGLY IDOL 121 
 
 She offered him her all ; he took it. What did 
 he give her in return ? One does not ask these 
 questions about a genius. He would never do 
 any one any harm, this simple little man, and he 
 would not wrong this woman who, like himself, was 
 quite unconscious of the clacking tongues of on- 
 lookers. He found a pleasure in her company, 
 that was all ; and since his wishes had never been 
 denied him, he pursued his pleasure. She sat at 
 his feet, adored and dreamt. Let us bejewel the 
 
 3 of our idols. . . . 
 
 When he was again at work, he went on with 
 her picture, but she did not recognise it as herself 
 when it was finished. He had idealised her, but 
 that he should do so pleased her. This was not, 
 of course, the picture he had in his mind ; it was 
 still unpainted. 
 
 People insulted Agatha by telling her that it 
 was really very like her. Then they went away 
 and shrugged a shoulder. 
 
 ' Who but Lester Schelless could conceive her in 
 such an attitude, with such an expression ? — she, 
 so quiet, so singularly lacking in ordinary con- 
 versation, so awfully commonplace ! Unless it 
 was all underneath. Of course, some people were 
 very deep ; and, any way, all this had lasted nearly 
 four months . . . Did any one know that Strode ? 
 He seemed to share his brotherly terms of 
 acquaintance with the two families. Wasn't it 
 odd ? Of course he always had been at Theresa's, 
 but he was so often seen with the other. In fact, 
 it is evident . . . You know, she seems rather . . .
 
 122 UGLY IDOL 
 
 Unless she does something decisive now . . .' 
 People were enjoying themselves in a little 
 harmless gossip. Gilbert and Theresa were as 
 unaware of this enjoyment as Lester and Agatha 
 themselves. 
 
 But business crowded upon Gilbert. In the 
 midst of his mad happiness, his worldless dream 
 that was without time, past or future, came 
 quarterly-bill time, and he descended to earth on 
 an unpleasant switchback of broken dreams and 
 half realities. His father's irritability frightened 
 him, for the doctor had told him its portent, so 
 he hid all the bills, and chattered brightly. Hut 
 he could not keep it up, ami night after night he 
 crumpled his hot brow over these figures. They 
 grinned at him, with their fingers at their noses. 
 'You have not been attending to us,' they said ; 
 'and so he, your father, has put us all on the 
 wrong side. You can't do it, you can't put us 
 back.' A nought and a nought and a nought — 
 these little, wide-open mouths of poverty, when 
 they do not swell the train of a chubby leading- 
 figure. Gilbert gazed in dismay, in utter despair. 
 He sat for a full hour one night, thinking 
 apparently, and every minute of this hour traced 
 its mark upon his face. Once more a tumbling 
 of idols, — no, a selling of them ; once more the 
 filthy, stinking rag of reality was stuck under his 
 nose. 
 
 ' Oh ! oh ! ' cried his poor, sore heart. 
 
 'Oh! oh!' yelled the open, empty-mouthed 
 noughts. Everything had tumbled into the gutter.
 
 UGLY IDOL 123 
 
 The luxury of love had to be paid for like every- 
 thing else. So he spent a whole night with his 
 books spread before him, his hands lying idle 
 beside them, staring vacantly. 
 
 For a week or two Gilbert hid his grey face in 
 Penton Street. He found a vicious joy in the 
 thought that Agatha would miss him and wonder 
 at his absence. She had shown such a sympathy 
 in all his concerns that now he felt she would be 
 gently offended at his neglect. That he was to 
 her all that she was to him the sanguine dreamer 
 never doubted. He was, of course, like every one 
 else, fully occupied with himself. Self is such a 
 big thing that you cannot see round the corner 
 of it sometimes. 
 
 Another trouble fell on him — or he awoke to 
 it. He was standing one day in the hall at the 
 Tegart-Hoares' in a little side-passage to escape 
 the notice of the mistress of the house, who came 
 and went in her usual perambulations about her 
 domain. He was waiting for his father, had been 
 waiting for three-quarters of an hour with dull 
 patience, listening to the sounds about the 
 passages. It was a silent place, for its thick 
 carpets deadened footsteps, but there was a soft 
 patter of people coming and going, an opening 
 and shutting of doors, sudden bursts of Phil's or 
 Ella's voice in the schoolroom, and the sibilant 
 whisper of Mr. Tegart-Hoare's never-ending con- 
 versation was always audible. Also, he heard his 
 father's voice in the study. 
 
 1 Bent has threatened to foreclose. You know
 
 i2 4 UGLY IDOL 
 
 what that means to me,' Mr. Strode was saying 
 excitedly. ' Of course, I do not allow Gilbert to 
 meddle in these matters.' 
 
 'No?' drawled Tegart-Hoare leisurely, with 
 the undertone of irony that always permeated his 
 voice. ' Then you are ' 
 
 'We) arc ruined, we are ruined, my dear friend. 
 We have no pos-possible means of meeting this 
 mortga Nfot heavy, of course, at all — arrears 
 of interest and all that, — but I am quite unable 
 to meet them.' 
 
 Gilbert knew from the tone of voice what a very 
 Inating expression of a xintenance accompanied 
 hi i father 1 1 won is. 
 
 'Henry will have nothing to do with it. He 
 hates me. He always was an awful ass.' 
 
 ■ Precisely/ murmured Tegart-Hoare. 
 
 'He said in his letter that he would make 
 Gilbert an allowance in case of his mania 
 
 'You gave him the idea of that, I SUppo 
 
 ' Well, I mentioned that there was such a 
 possibility; but at present, of course, he had no 
 capital to marry on. Then he wrote to Gilbert. 
 I took the letter. He said he was quite willing 
 to give so much, if it aided him to make an 
 advantageous marriage. He will do nothing 
 more. The idiot doesn't see that it 's only present 
 difficulties I 'm suffering under. He calmly says 
 that he has nothing whatever to do with my 
 business affairs. I — 1 believe ' 
 
 ' He, then, proposes to make that up?' 
 
 'Yes, yes.'
 
 UGLY IDOL 125 
 
 ' Gilbert inherits his property ? ' 
 
 ' His everything — his everything. It 's only this 
 matter with Bent, and a few other little debts that 
 are not pressing. But Bent — Bent ! Help me, my 
 dear friend, help me. Consider my terrible position. 
 What am I to do ? You are the only friend I have 
 left on earth. You know what it must cost me to 
 ask for help ; it is nothing to you, and, of course 
 — only a present obligation — afterwards ' 
 
 'Well, she has so much, — yes, sit down. Of 
 course I shall see to it. One condition, — I take 
 Bent into my hands completely. There is no 
 need for you to — ah — trouble about it further just 
 now. She is not likely to marry any one else. 
 It is not what could be called a business transac- 
 tion, but in the cause of friendship these things 
 art- not considered,' added Tegart-Hoare gener- 
 ously, with his eye, trained by his wife, turned 
 Upon the future, where he saw his gauche daughter 
 installed as mistress of Henry's English and 
 French properties. Ella, plain and awkward 
 and untaking, brought up, too, in a circle of society 
 that was peculiar to Mrs. Tegart-Hoare, and that 
 embraced gentlemen of good family or title who 
 only visited her with religious intent — Salvation 
 Army captains, — Ella had not much chance of 
 marrying, except, perhaps, some clergyman with 
 no property in view but his portion of the 
 Kingdom of Heaven. 
 
 The Strodes at this moment were very poor ; 
 a heavy mortgage that Mr. Strode raised upon 
 his house, during his transactions in the city a
 
 126 UGLY IDOL 
 
 few years ago, had fallen due, and this meant 
 entire bankruptcy, as he could not even pay the 
 accumulated interest, Gilbert's money having 
 been spent as it was earned, and before. Ella 
 had enough money to make the life of her 
 husband quite comfortable, and she could of 
 course, once Bent was disposed of, tide her 
 husband and his father over their present diffi- 
 culties Mr. Strode, well aware that Kent was 
 not the only cloud on his horizon, although by 
 far the greatest, had had hi> eye upon thi 
 
 some time. Mrs. Teg.irt- 1 1. are. seeing that Ella 
 would gain prospects, that poverty (she con- 
 sidered her daughter's dot as such) would perhaps 
 have a good effect upon her, for at present her 
 
 lapses from religion caused some anxiety, 
 : irt-Hoare having looked on the circumstances 
 all round, having considered that Ella's poverty 
 would not entail living in an unbecoming manner; 
 
 that Gilbert was a grave young man, in Stanley's 
 
 too, of which their was no need tO DC ashamed 
 if people asked to whom Ella was married ; 
 that they were of very good family — Mrs. TV 
 Hour conveyed to her husband, that slu- thought 
 
 the match proper and suitable. 'We must ex- 
 tend our charity, Olir fellow-feeling to all who 
 
 need it, Marmaduke. Mr. Strode, we know, is 
 repenting for the follies of his youth ; let us aid 
 the Stray sheep, — such a very charming man. 
 Ella loves Gilbert, we must not thwart the dear 
 child, and I am sun- he is very worth)-. And,' 
 added the simple soul, with naive frankness, ' I
 
 UGLY IDOL 127 
 
 fear she will not have again such an opportunity 
 with a young man of prospects.' 
 
 1 Your faith in the future is generally practical, 
 Emma,' returned Marmaduke. ' The prospects 
 on the whole are worth considering, and the 
 outlay for it — small — quite unimportant.' 
 
 She suspected him of saying something that 
 was wicked. So it happened that Gilbert heard 
 scraps of conversation outside the study door ; 
 but he did not hear the whole, he only heard enough 
 to awaken vague suspicion that his father had been 
 deceiving him, had been concocting affairs of 
 his own with that cunning that had come on him 
 since his illness. What had he been doing, and 
 why had he kept it secret? His father had 
 deceived him, his father, his father . . . 
 
 Mr. Strode came out of the study with a 
 radiant smile; there was a bow, a laugh, a jump 
 of his littk- silver ringlets as he said good-bye to 
 Mr--. Tegart-Hoare, and she watched him depart 
 with a very amiable display of teeth. 
 
 At home, Mr. Strode found his chatter was 
 received in dead silence on the part of his son, 
 and this irritated him. 
 
 ' What do you mean by reading the newspaper 
 when I am talking to you ? ' 
 
 Gilbert laid it down, and turned a thin, grey, 
 lined face obediently to his father. 
 
 1 Well ! ' said Mr. Strode. 
 
 'You were busy with Tegart-Hoare this after- 
 noon ? ' 
 
 * What of it, what of it ? I may talk to Tegart-
 
 128 UGLY IDOL 
 
 Hoare when I choose, I suppose? Learn not to 
 meddle in things that don't concern you.' 
 
 ' You have told me nothing about it ! ' 
 
 4 And is it necessary for you to know every 
 blessed thing that goes on around you? Is it 
 necessary for you to inquire into all your father 
 does ? I am not such a fool as I look yet.' He 
 smiled cunningly, a little shamefacedly. 
 
 ' But, — well, — we 're all we have to each other, 
 you know, we two. I always think of you 
 first, — and you me, — don't you? If this business 
 concerns me — and it must since it concerns you, 
 — why don't you tell me? why do you make a 
 secret of it? Oh don't keep anything from 
 me,' and he caught his father's hand and looked 
 in his face with a great love. 
 
 Mr. Strode snatched his hand away, and 
 worked himself up into one of his dangerous 
 passions ; he swore, he defended himself piti- 
 fully, and ended in sobs. Yes, he cried, and 
 leant against the shoulder of his son, who soothed 
 him. Suddenly, in the midst of it all, Gilbert 
 thought of Agatha, and he loved her more than 
 ever before, and she shone brighter and brighter 
 against this dreary background.
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 And so it happened that after the lapse of a 
 month, Gilbert suddenly turned up at Theresa's. 
 He had gone first to Mrs. Yorke's door, and his 
 courage had failed him ; he had almost a dread 
 of meeting Agatha ; but recent events had pushed 
 him, pushed him, he had almost run there, and 
 when he arrived, he — turned aside. After a long, 
 dark month of dreams, that had risen to such a 
 pitch as to drive him forth at all costs, after that 
 to be so near her, so near the possibility of seeing 
 her, — he ran to her door and turned aside. 
 
 He went with no distinct feeling whatever, 
 except a need of seeing her, and a vague instinct 
 told him that if he saw her, he would say all that 
 had been held back in his silence so long, he 
 would commit unutterable follies, and he in his 
 shabby coat had no right to commit them. So 
 at the last moment, he turned aside from the 
 door. 
 
 It seemed to him as he went away, that all 
 the doors of the houses were very tightly shut 
 against him. He was shut out and it was cold. 
 Slinking along the pavement beside him was a 
 thin cur, its tail down, its skin shivering over its 
 protruding ribs. Now and then it gazed wistfully 
 
 I
 
 130 UGLY IDOL 
 
 down the area-steps of a house, but all the doors 
 were shut. It, too, was out in the cold. Gilbert 
 became conscious of his companion, and eyed it 
 with fellow-feeling. It had been a handsome 
 retriever once, no doubt ; at any rate, it was no 
 mongrel. Its coat was scabby and brown, its 
 face savage, and one of its legs had been broken 
 by a kick, like as not. 
 
 1 Boy,' said Gilbert, making advances. 
 
 The beast came up and sniffed at him with 
 lifting lips, and when he raised his hand it 
 cowered from him. But it did not bite him, it 
 recognised him as a friend of its kind ; moreover, 
 had been a gentleman once, and retained a 
 fragment of manners. 
 
 They walked on again, and the dog followed 
 Gilbert as though he were its master. 
 
 Habit took him to Theresa's door. He went in 
 almost absent-mindedly ; but this door, too, was 
 shut to the dog. Gilbert turning round saw it 
 still there, and remembering that he had a 
 packet of sandwiches in his pocket that he had 
 got for his father's supper, flung it out. 
 
 It unfortunately happened that every one was 
 at Theresa's that day, for she had announced her 
 departure from town, and given a big At Home 
 ' to prevent them coming by twos and threes at 
 the last while I 'm packing,' she said. 
 
 When Gilbert entered, a very vivid remem- 
 brance of the first time he had met Agatha there, 
 five months ago, came before him. Yes, he was 
 listening to that voice again, and he felt the blood
 
 UGLY IDOL 131 
 
 rise to his temples in response to it. He lingered 
 outside the door, his hand was on the handle, 
 when he reflected that he would have to open it, 
 which would attract attention to him, and he 
 retreated quickly to the studio. He could breathe 
 here, in this big, bare place, dark in the half-light 
 of drawn curtains. A bright gleam came through 
 the curtains that separated it from the ante- 
 chamber, and from beyond the ante-chamber 
 came a buzz of conversation. He stood with his 
 ear at the chink, listening to the voice that was as 
 clear in his ear as the drops that fall from above 
 in a cascade, mingling with the deeper notes of 
 other waters. Then it ceased. He waited im- 
 patiently, but it did not begin again. He must 
 glide into the room from the ante-chamber. He 
 must make her speak again, to him. Yes, oh yes, 
 she must speak to him, and he clutched the 
 curtain to draw it back ; caught it roughly in an 
 eager, shaking hand. Suddenly he let it drop 
 again, and turned away hurriedly. He would go 
 home, go home at once. . . . 
 
 The door opened over there, and the rustle of 
 a woman's garment told him some one else had 
 come into the room, and he could not go. In a 
 minute he saw the shine of her pale hair. Ex- 
 quisitely beautiful she appeared to him in the 
 blue gloom of the half-lit room. Her hair was 
 silver almost, her face white, and he could see the 
 expression of her wide mouth. He leant forward 
 and stared and stared ; all the very unwisest 
 things that he had not said yet rushed to the tip
 
 132 UGLY IDOL 
 
 of his tongue, and he would say them now. What 
 had she come there for ? To see him, of course. 
 How did she know that he was there ? Had seen 
 him on the stair, perhaps. No, he knew that was 
 not it ; but she had come to look for him. 
 
 ' Agatha ! ' he tried to whisper ; but his voice 
 sounded loud and jubilant. ' Agatha ! ' 
 
 ' Oh ! ' and there was a moment's pause. 
 
 ' You did not know that I was here ? ' 
 
 ' No! you startled me. Why are you in here? 
 Were you in the other room? Surely I have not 
 seen you for a long time.' 
 
 ' But I will explain, — forgive me.' 
 
 1 Yes,' she answered simply, very vaguely, 'I 
 missed you.' 
 
 'You are not angry with me? I will ex — ex- 
 plain.' 
 
 He put out a hand to take hers ; he stuttered 
 and stumbled over the crowd of words that tried 
 to fight their way between his teeth, and his teeth 
 seemed to close tighter and tighter upon them. 
 He was so happy, so terribly happy, in the know- 
 ledge of all he was going to say, and she was 
 waiting, evidently waiting, and the deep silence 
 that only comes where living things are fell upon 
 them. From the other side of the curtains came 
 the murmur of voices, flippant voices, the clink of 
 tea-spoons, that gleam of bright light. He was 
 conscious of the figure beside him. He could just 
 distinguish her pale head, and he shivered with 
 ecstasy. 
 
 The door at the end of the room opened again,
 
 UGLY IDOL 133 
 
 and Gilbert had not yet said a word of all that he 
 was going to have said. Some one came in. 
 
 Agatha suddenly stirred. It almost seemed 
 indeed as if she had suddenly awakened from a 
 sleep or a dream. She left his side, he felt her 
 go, and he raised his hand to detain her. ' Come 
 back, come back, I have not said it yet — listen ' ; 
 but she had left him, and he heard the swish of 
 her dress as she moved quickly away. He started 
 forward to follow her, and then suddenly remem- 
 bered that some one else was there, and paused. 
 
 ' Ah ! ' he heard her sigh — a sigh replete with 
 joy — with supreme content. ' Ah ! ' she sighed, 
 and a voice he knew replied. It was Lester's. 
 
 He shrank back ; but he heard their voices still 
 as they talked together. . . . Yes, he heard them, 
 and he heard Lester's first word. . . . He shrank 
 back into the folds of the curtain ; but it seemed 
 to him that these voices followed him, and whis- 
 pered closely in his ear, ... or was it the voices 
 that came from the other side ? There, there was 
 talking, and light, and that pervading laughter ; 
 he had heard it all before, this wearisome talking, 
 — was there not even somebody saying : 
 
 1 Have you ' (laugh) ' seen the latest one-man- 
 show ? ' (laugh). 
 
 There came a pause, a dead silence, as if they, 
 too, were listening to the low sounds that came 
 from the grey gloom behind. 
 
 'Ah ! ' . . . the moisture rolled from his forehead. 
 
 Then a great burst of laughter oh£! how 
 
 gay they were in the drawing room !
 
 134 UGLY IDOL 
 
 ' What a pity Mr. Schelless missed that ! ' 
 
 ' I suppose it is on account of his health that 
 you are going away so early this year ? ' 
 
 ' Yes,— partly.' 
 
 1 Where is he ? — is he not well ? ' 
 
 * Oh yes,' Theresa said. ' He should he coming.' 
 
 ' No, no ! he is here, here.' Gilbert thought that 
 he had cried it aloud ; but no one seemed to have 
 heard him. Theresa did not know that there was 
 anyone in th om there. She laughed and 
 
 talked unconcernedly. 
 
 Gilbert stood in the doorway, and slowly 
 dropped die curtain behind him. Hf Stumbled 
 through the anteroom, and slid noiselessly into 
 the drawing-room, into the bright light, am< 
 the chattering throng. He stood a moment, and 
 listened again ; he had a great deal of listening to 
 do to-day. A little group, out of sight round the 
 le of the wall, was gossiping in undertone 
 ' ¥es, gone on for five months, nothing known 
 
 1 Perhaps, as usual, something will happen out 
 of town. It will need to.' 
 
 'But that other fellow disappeared.' 
 
 ' Oh, no ! 1 i n him about, I think. The 
 
 most outrageous flirtation 1 ever saw.' 
 
 ' Oh, well, we don't know, you know; but she 
 
 must be either unutterably simple or — t'other 
 
 round.' 
 
 ' Never trust these blondes.' 
 
 1 Oh, it 's t'other way round, of course.' 
 
 1 Well, there are none of them shy about per-
 
 UGLY IDOL 135 
 
 forming in public. Every one knows, and if she 
 doesn't do something decisively soon, her reputa- 
 tion ' 
 
 ' I do not think, anyway, that we should discuss 
 it in Theresa's drawing-room.' 
 
 ' I am sure,' muttered one moving nearer, ' that 
 it will end scandalously.' Gilbert stood, listening 
 to these light-hearted gossipers, and conceived 
 their words to be laden with deep, malignant im- 
 port. Somewhere in his poor distraught head 
 words took root, and it seemed to him that 
 they menaced a danger to Agatha. . . . 
 
 This was Graham, who as he spoke moved 
 towards the entry to the antechamber. 'Let's 
 go in here, and have a look round quietly. It 
 will be cool.' 
 
 But Gilbert was there, and did not move aside 
 to let him pass. 1 [e saw very distinctly the lifted 
 eyebrows and sneering mouths. In such esteem 
 was held his Agatha. 
 
 • Excuse me, but Miss Schelless told me she did 
 not wish this room used to-day. The doors have 
 been opened by mistake ; the blinds are down,' 
 said the sentinel haughtily, and he seemed to 
 Graham of most unusual height 
 
 1 Oh,' mumbled this gentleman, ' that 's a 
 nuisance, but one may go in the hall, I suppose ? ' 
 
 Gilbert stared at him vacantly ; he was certain, 
 quite certain that he heard sibilant whispers 
 behind him approaching — from the studio. He 
 opened his eyes, looked about him with a 
 frightened glare, and bolted from the room. 
 
 /
 
 136 UGLY IDOL 
 
 1 Devil ! ' said Graham. 
 
 ' My dear boy, do I hear you swearing ? ' said 
 Mrs. Yorke amiably. 
 
 Gilbert walked all the way home, and it was 
 only instinct that took him there. He walked and 
 walked for miles and miles, and time was endless. 
 Agatha ! Agatha ! something had happened, — 
 what! — no, she did not love him. He laughed, 
 he wondered why lie laughed ; it was so odd, 
 wasn't it? She loved Lester; Lester was a great 
 man, he was successful ; — he — he was nothing, and 
 he was quite alone. There was a great crowd 
 round him, he smelt it, there was a flashing of 
 lights, a laughing, a talking, the turmoil of many 
 people, and he was alone ; she had turned from 
 him, and gone away, and he was alone. He 
 walked quickly, he pushed rudely past people, and 
 oaths were hissed in his ear; one, two, Agatha 
 I, Agatha loved this genius — Lester — one, 
 two, Agatha loved, — so he walked, marching 
 mechanically to a rhythm. I am alone, alone, 
 alone, one. . . . 
 
 There followed a darkness, and then the night- 
 mare went on. A loud voice said in his ear that 
 he had wronged her, had brought her to the very 
 verge of scandal. He struggled with the voice, 
 he shouted that he had as much right to love her 
 as any one. Surely he had done nothing to merit 
 all this ! — for long he had been so miserable, 
 surely he might be happy a little while ! Then 
 he was in a street and all the doors were shut to 
 him ; there was one where he knocked and knocked
 
 UGLY IDOL 137 
 
 and it did not open ; the voice said, ' She won't 
 open to you. She doesn't want you,' and he 
 hurled himself at the door and tried to break it, 
 but some one pulled him away and made him 
 march, one, two, one, two. I am alone, alone. 
 After that a hurly-burly of figures danced before 
 his eyes, and he fell to making sums. They 
 changed continually, these horrid figures, they 
 would not work right ; the answer was always 
 one, two, one, two. 
 
 1 Well, I will go away now. Yes, yes, don't 
 excite yourself, no reason at all,' said the doctor 
 to Mr. Strode with the imperturbable patience 
 that medical men learn. 'And I can trust your 
 discretion to see that no one makes any disturb- 
 ance, eh ? ' 
 
 Martha opened her eyes at that, but Mr. Strode 
 smiled and nodded importantly, and to his old 
 servant's astonishment returned quietly to his 
 room. 
 
 1 Now, Martha,' he said with a frown, ' no noise.' 
 
 ' You see,' said the doctor with a laugh, ' he is 
 quite safe.' 
 
 Mr. Strode's anxiety during his son's illness 
 had upset the whole household, and Martha had 
 had special charge of him. He loved his only 
 son, and became conscious of his dependence 
 upon him when he was no longer there. He had 
 a fear of illness, but hovered about the room, 
 half-angry, half-frightened when Gilbert did not 
 know him. ' What ? what ? how is he now, eh ? ' 
 until the nurse, being only an ordinary person,
 
 138 UGLY IDOL 
 
 grew almost angry, and the patient doctor was 
 sent for to establish peace. Mrs. Tegart-Hoare, 
 considering them now as in her possession, gasped 
 a little at the poverty their home displayed, and 
 sent many luxuries. She enjoyed it, it was so 
 nice and satisfactory to see the good one did. 
 Theresa at once despatched a nurse, and Mrs. 
 Tegart-Hoare sent another, in case that person 
 was not reliable. But still, for a week or two 
 these things seemed useless, Gilbert having been 
 for some time overworked and underfed. One 
 marvelled that Mr. Strode did not bring on one 
 of his dangerous attacks, but it seemed to Gilbert 
 when he opened his eyes and saw him again that 
 he was frailer, more bent, more childish. 
 
 ' Well, my boy ! ' he cried joyfully, approaching 
 the bed. 'Make haste and get well, now, eh? 
 Your poor old father has been long enough 
 without you.' 
 
 It was a beautiful, lovable father this, though, 
 Gilbert thought, who patted the pillows with a 
 helpless attentiveness, his eye dewy with emotion. 
 
 Gilbert progressed very slowly towards recovery, 
 and Mr. Strode did his very best to vary the 
 tedium of the day. But his son did not respond, 
 he lay still and answered when he was spoken to, 
 he said ■ Thank you ' when things were given to 
 him, and smiled with a politeness that was baffling. 
 It was hard, he thought perhaps, that he had 
 lived. 
 
 ' What is the matter with him ? ' cried Mr. 
 Strode impatiently.
 
 UGLY IDOL 139 
 
 1 It takes time,' said the doctor. ' You must 
 leave a man to recovery in his own way, you 
 know. Er — he is perhaps nervous, easily upset ? ' 
 
 ' Oh no, I assure you, never was ill in his life, 
 never had my nerves ! ' 
 
 ' Had mental worry lately, though ? ' 
 
 1 No. Oh, I kept everything that could disturb 
 him from him ! ' said Mr. Strode hastily. 
 
 Then he went to Gilbert and asked him why 
 he still lay in bed — he, his father wanted him, 
 missed him, could not get on without him ; and 
 Gilbert sat up and said that he was much better. 
 He thought, too, of the household books and 
 accounts, he remembered the state they had been 
 in when he had gone over them before he was 
 taken ill, and all day long the detestable subject 
 haunted him persistently. He calculated the 
 expense of his illness, and — it was very hard that 
 he had not died, he was so near it, and it would 
 have been so easy. It would be easy still, so 
 very easy ; one would fall asleep never to wake : 
 unutterable bliss ! never to wake ! He did not 
 sleep much, but still he had the sensation of 
 waking. He felt it coming, dreaded it, tried to 
 evade it, but still it came, a big thing, a ghoul, 
 with the myriad faces of life smirking over its 
 shoulder. And yet it could be so easily evaded, he 
 could sleep so that it would never happen again. 
 
 1 Well, Gilbert, my boy, how are you this 
 morning?' His father. No, it was evident he 
 must accustom himself to the waking. There 
 was his father.
 
 140 UGLY IDOL 
 
 One morning he gave Martha the key of his 
 desk and told her to bring it to him ; she only 
 obeyed after a good deal of resistance. He 
 opened it slowly and turned over the accounts ; 
 he was angry to find that the figures jumped and 
 danced before his eyes, and he saw stars instead 
 of them. One — two, and at that his pencil twirled 
 in the air, when the book was snatched from him. 
 The doctor had unfortunately discovered him. 
 
 • None of that!' 
 
 ' I am afraid I must.' 
 
 1 l'ooh, my dear fellow, nonsense! Consider 
 others. I don't suppose they want another dose 
 of nursing. You will be well enough in a week 
 for this sort of thing — otherwise, not for a month 
 or t\. 
 
 Gilbert's rye still rested on the book. 
 
 1 No use worrying about it. You must have a 
 holiday. The longer the better.' 
 
 1 I suppose so.' 
 
 ' You will be all right once you are away. The 
 country is delightful in early summer.' 
 
 ' Yes,' said Gilbert with a polite smile. 
 
 I Ie had noticed that his father's manner towards 
 him, affectionate as it was, was curious. He 
 blushed, hesitated, ruffled his hair, and finally 
 went away without having said what was evidently 
 in his mind. Gilbert waited in feverish anxiety 
 for it to come, and when his father appeared that 
 afternoon with an odd, half-eager, half-frightened 
 expression on his face, he saw that it was coming 
 at last, and tried to look as if he suspected nothing.
 
 UGLY IDOL 141 
 
 ' What ! not up ? Not so well to-day ? ' 
 
 ' I did not know what time it was.' 
 
 ' Oh — ah, Gilbert ! ' Mr. Strode hung his head 
 a moment. ' Gilbert, we are,' he cried excitedly, 
 ' we are completely done for.' 
 
 Gilbert clutched the bedclothes. 
 
 1 Bent has threatened to foreclose. He has only 
 allowed us a month. Gilbert, you will not see me 
 ruined ; you will help me, my boy. I haven't a 
 penny, you know. We must do something, do 
 something, eh ? What ? Why should I be a 
 prey to all these misfortunes ? ' babbled the old 
 man, on his knees beside the bed. 
 
 Gilbert had not a word to say, and his father 
 did not know how to go on. He was acting, but, 
 as usual, sincerely ; he knew that it was all settled 
 and arranged, but at that moment he felt as if 
 blank privation still stared them in the face. 
 Why was the boy so indifferent? 
 
 1 Gilbert,' he said, a little petulantly, ' I — I have 
 an idea. Are you attending? You don't care, 
 apparently. I might have known, you ' 
 
 ' No, no, I was thinking. What is your idea ? 
 Your ideas — are always better — than any one 
 else's.' 
 
 'Yes,' said Mr. Strode, glancing up, 'it is a 
 very good idea. My dear boy, I have long noticed 
 that you are very fond of Ella, and I thought 
 that perhaps — she has money — it would save us 
 if you ' 
 
 ' If I married her? ' 
 
 ' Yes, yes. Have you been thinking of it ?
 
 142 UGLY IDOL 
 
 How fortunate ! Tegart-Hoare has really behaved 
 very nicely. He has helped us as regards Bent, 
 but I feel under no obligations to him, because 
 he wants our name, you know, he ! he ! He is a 
 sly beggar. Afterwards, when you are in Henry's 
 shoes, eh, Gilbert? She is a nice girl. Her 
 money will make us quite comfortable. And so 
 you really love her, my boy ? ' 
 
 Gilbert gazed at the foolish, cunning face at the 
 bedside. ' Yes, yes,' he murmured, ' I will — marry 
 Ella.' 
 
 His father rose, looking bright and happy. 
 
 'Think what her money will be to us ! I was 
 never meant for poverty. 1 can't stand it! I am 
 delighted, Gilbert. It is as good as a book. I 
 am sure it will hasten your recovery. We shall 
 have a good deal to do, you know.' 
 
 Gilbert turned away from the radiant face and 
 lay over to the wall. Mr. Strode was extremely 
 astonished when in the evening his sun was worse 
 — had, in fact, a relapse, that pulled him back to 
 where he had been a week or two ago. 
 
 ' He has been agitated, and I thought I told 
 you to be careful, or else you will find it dragging 
 on and settling into chronic invalidism.' 
 
 ' I gave him some news I did not think could 
 do him any harm. Joy never kills, you know,' 
 returned Mr. Strode, too happy to pay much 
 attention to the doctor's threat. 
 
 When Gilbert was better again Mrs. Tegart- 
 Hoare came to see him, and was very kind, very 
 impressive. First of all she prayed in thanks for
 
 UGLY IDOL 143 
 
 his recovery, and wished him to repeat a prayer 
 after her. He was, however, seized with such a 
 fit of coughing that it was found impossible. 
 
 I My dear Gilbert, I understand that you wish 
 my daughter in marriage. This pleases me — in 
 fact, I feel that I cannot thank God enough for 
 having brought such a worthy man across Ella's 
 path. We all of us, indeed, feel a deep joy at 
 the circumstances, and I need not say that her 
 happiness is complete. We must only now pray 
 for your entire recovery ; and it is indeed a 
 pleasure to think that we can be of any service 
 to your father.' 
 
 Gilbert winced. 
 
 I I will endeavour to be a good husband to her,' 
 he said. 
 
 ' Oh, I am sure, quite sure, that her future will 
 be happy with you. She is a good girl, Gilbert. 
 I have brought her up at my side, and feel that 
 she will make your home what it ought to be. 
 Of course, I need not say that since I have seen 
 you together I have observed you, and have seen 
 that you are thoroughly worthy of taking your 
 place in our family.' 
 
 The good creature smiled a circular smile, half 
 composed of arching mouth, half of creased chin. 
 She was not conscious of any condescension or 
 patronage. 
 
 1 She will have no need to complain of her 
 position in our family,' said Gilbert haughtily. 
 
 Mrs. Tegart-Hoare suspected him of saying 
 something of which she did not quite approve.
 
 144 UGLY IDOL 
 
 1 Well, I am afraid you are tired now, so I will 
 leave you,' she remarked. She paused to bestow 
 her first kiss on his forehead before she went. 
 
 He listened to her going downstairs, and sat 
 in nervous fear lest she should return, but she 
 remained there for half an hour talking to Mr. 
 Strode. 
 
 Gilbert took his head in both hands. ' If one 
 could only be mad, one would be happy. I think 
 I have been mad — I remember having been 
 happy.' 
 
 After all, he thought, it was amusing ; it was a 
 sort of goods transaction. Ella was handed over 
 to him or he to her, without his having ever spoken 
 to her on the subject ; but he would have to do 
 it, and he dreaded the passing of days that 
 brought it nearer. Still, he looked forward to the 
 marriage, feverishly, anxiously, he wished it over ; 
 then he would write to Theresa and tell her to 
 announce it everywhere, and Agatha would be 
 safe. That, at the bottom of his heart, was his 
 motive ; on the top of his heart, new comfort for 
 his father, who was getting frailer, much frailer, 
 lie should not suffer any more — not, any way, 
 from want. He depended upon Gilbert almost 
 entirely now ; he came to his son confidingly, 
 patted his knee, and pointed out how he would do 
 this and that when they were better off. 'Eh, 
 Gilbert?' he said gladly. 'It's most fortunate, 
 isn't it?' 
 
 One day Ella came to visit Gilbert, soon after 
 her mother had been. As she entered the room
 
 UGLY IDOL 145 
 
 it seemed to him that she walked even more 
 heavily than formerly, that she carried about 
 with her an atmosphere of busy unrest. Her 
 brown eyes looked straight at him, frankly, 
 lovingly, with a simple, open regard that had 
 something grand in it. But he looked at her 
 mouth, and wished her teeth were not so big ; 
 he was sure they had grown since he last saw 
 them. 
 
 1 1 am so sorry you have been ill ! I have been 
 dreadfully anxious. But I thought you were 
 better ? Ought you to be out of bed ? ' 
 
 ' Why, yes, one gets tired of bed sometimes. I 
 am much better, thanks.' He was more than 
 usually stiff and cold, just because he was trying 
 to be very nice, for he had made up his mind to 
 be as nice to her as possible. Since he was going 
 to marry her he owed her that. 
 
 ' You don't look comfortable,' she went on 
 prosaically, and she began with her instinct of 
 nursing and arranging to settle the cushions 
 with deft enough fingers. 
 
 ' Thank you, you are always doing things for 
 other people, Ella ; don't you tire of it ? ' 
 
 1 No, — not when it 's for you.' 
 
 'Really? Of course ' 
 
 He paused ; the dreaded moment had come, 
 he was going to bind himself deliberately, irre- 
 vocably ; a last tumult of regrets rushed through 
 him, and vague ideas of still saving himself 
 hovered in his mind. Perhaps she would say no ; 
 the humours of the situation in this event occurred 
 
 K
 
 146 UGLY IDOL 
 
 to him for a moment, and then he took her hand 
 to attract her attention. 
 
 ' Then if I asked you to be my wife and do 
 
 things for me always, you would say ?' he 
 
 murmured hoarsely. 
 
 ' Yes, Gilbert.' 
 
 In spite of himself, the quiet dignity of her 
 answer moved him to a little admiration of her. 
 Then he thought, how luck}- it was that she was 
 plain and prosaic, and gave the answer with no 
 tremor of sentiment in her voice! 
 
 Of course she had looked forward to this as 
 the inevitable consequence of her long and close 
 acquaintance with him ; no doubts had ever 
 troubled her. He was grave and upright, a fine 
 man as she knew him, whom she respected and 
 admired, and it made no difference to her that 
 he was u an and aged by illness : it simply gave 
 her the additional joy of looking after him. To 
 be his wife was to her a proud and possible 
 ambition ; nothing in her world was impossible, 
 for the impossible was not worth thinking about. 
 
 ' You will miss a lot of things you have in your 
 present life,' he said with some qualms. 'Are 
 you quite sure, Ella?' 
 
 ' Sure about what?' 
 
 1 About the change, and you will have — a 
 broken-up fellow to look after ' 
 
 Ella laughed heartily. 'What an idea!' she 
 said ; ' why, Edwin is often ill ! ' 
 
 ' And remember — we may as well go all over 
 it now — I don't agree with your mother on some
 
 UGLY IDOL 147 
 
 subjects. I shall never interfere with you or her, 
 but I shall expect her to treat me with the same 
 respect' 
 
 'You mean that you aren't religious, Gilbert?' 
 
 ' Not, at least, in her way.' 
 
 'You aren't an Atheist?' she asked, realising 
 only this other kind of fanaticism. 
 
 ' Certainly not,' he went on patiently. ' But I 
 do not go in for prayer-meetings and all that sort 
 of thing, you know ; there are other ways. I am 
 afraid it sounds unkind, — and it makes a difference 
 to you, Ella ? ' 
 
 ' I know you are different, but perhaps it is 
 because you are so clever. Father always says 
 I am stupid ; I have grown up in it, you see, and 
 I never thought particularly about it. Will you 
 want me to change things ? ' 
 
 ' No, no, you will do as you have always done, 
 unless anything happens after.' 
 
 She thought him a little cold, but that was 
 always his manner, and she did not like emotional 
 people. Perhaps, after all, he was less distant to- 
 day than usual ; or perhaps it was because he was ill. 
 
 ' I wish you looked better ; can't I do something 
 for you ? ' She floundered round him aimlessly. 
 
 ' I shall be all right in a week or two, and 
 Stanley is very nice. He has given me two 
 months from the day we leave town, at the end 
 of which he will raise me to old Cooke's place.' 
 
 1 1 am sure you won't be strong enough. Do 
 you need to go back to the office at all ? Isn't 
 my money enough for us to live on ? '
 
 148 UGLY IDOL 
 
 ' No,' he answered, with a red streak crossing 
 his forehead. 
 
 She sat down and admired him. 
 
 Then there was a great bustle about going 
 away. Gilbert was asked where he would like to 
 go to, and he indifferently mentioned some places 
 at hazard, but Mrs. Tegart-Hoare unfortunately 
 discovered that each had a serious drawback. 
 She went on sundry expeditions into the country, 
 and returned to pour into the ears of her family 
 the history of each house to let she had visited. 
 Gilbert at first thought it necessary to show an 
 interest in her complicated explanations, but 
 Marmaduke said to him, ' Don't worry, just leave 
 her alone. She is quite happy if you grunt at 
 every semi-colon, and nod at the full-stops.' 
 Marmaduke himself was obliged to accompany 
 her, and on the whole found it more entertaining 
 than his drowsy life at home. 
 
 Mrs. Tegart-Hoare was also busy house-hunt- 
 ing in London ; it was difficult to find a suitable 
 house that was not too dear ; she impressed upon 
 Ella the fact that she was entering into poverty. 
 Furniture must be seen, a notebook of arrange- 
 ments settled, so that the two ladies were very 
 busy, and Mr. Strode was as happy as the day 
 was long, for they had much need of his opinion. 
 But he frightened Gilbert by returning very tired 
 in the evening, sleeping badly and showing a 
 great fear of the night ; he would not go to bed 
 till twelve or one, unless removed by Martha. 
 
 Gilbert, by doctor's orders, was kept out of all
 
 UGLY IDOL 149 
 
 this business, but when he heard by chance that 
 Mrs. Tegart-Hoare was settling on a house for 
 him, he went to see it without delay, decided that 
 it was much too near West Kensington, and 
 refused to take it. Mrs. Tegart-Hoare stared at 
 him in stupefaction. 
 
 1 But I think it is the very house for you ; so 
 near us, too.' 
 
 ' Yes,' murmured the eldest son, foreseeing 
 pleasant evenings to spend there. 
 
 But Gilbert proved unwarrantably obstinate, so 
 Mrs. Tegart-Hoare, perceiving that his illness 
 had upset his mental equilibrium, decided to 
 remove him at once to the country, which proved, 
 after all, to be Marmaduke's own estate. In 
 the meantime, knowing much better than Gilbert, 
 poor dear boy, could possibly do in his present 
 condition, she would take the house and furnish 
 it. But he, before the whole family, said, ' I do 
 not wish to disagree, but I do not care for the 
 arrangement of the house at all. Ella has told 
 me of another which seems more suitable, 
 cheaper, and better in every way.' 
 
 1 My dear boy, pray don't worry ; I have much 
 more experience than you in the matter : I am 
 perfectly certain that this one will delight you 
 after. It is for your good that I am acting.' 
 
 ' I don't doubt it, but — in fact, I have written 
 to the landlord of the other.' 
 
 • Never mind, I can easily put him off,' she 
 answered with a beaming, amiable smile. 
 
 Gilbert sank back in hopeless, aimless anger,
 
 150 UGLY IDOL 
 
 a moisture under his eyes and on his forehead, 
 a tremble round his mouth ; Ella had learned 
 to know these signs. 
 
 She stood up and knocked over her chair. 
 
 4 We don't care for it, mother ; the other one is 
 much better suited to us.' 
 
 'Ella-h?' 
 
 ' Gilbert likes it better, any way,' she said with 
 a touch of dignity. ' As we are to live in it we 
 ought to choose. I intend to take the other.' 
 
 ' But — it's so far away.' 
 
 1 Gilbert wishes it,' said Ella conclusively, and 
 she remained mistress of the situation. 
 
 'Is it worth troubling about?' asked Mr. 
 Strode nervously. 
 
 ' Distinctly it is,' murmured Tegart-Hoare with 
 a chuckle. ' Ella intends to be mistress of her 
 own house like her mother, but she appears to 
 consider her husband to be the master of it, which 
 is extraordinary.' 
 
 The marriage was to be hurried on as quickly 
 as possible ; Mrs. Tegart-Hoare dreaded the 
 frivolity it entailed, wished it over and her 
 daughter settled down. Mr. Strode was over- 
 come with an odd nervous hurry, and Gilbert felt 
 it a cloud hanging over him and wished it 
 were all finished. The only impediment was his 
 slow recovery ; he had not the air proper to a 
 bridegroom, but the interval was unutterably 
 tedious. 
 
 1 1 is position as Ella's accepted lover was ex- 
 tremely unpleasant to him ; she was always with
 
 UGLY IDOL 151 
 
 him, always with him, and though he tried to 
 enjoy her company, her faults became very 
 flagrant and annoyed him. He told himself that 
 she was a very good woman with many estimable 
 qualities, a better wife than he deserved — oh, yes, 
 all that. He only wished that the marriage was 
 over, then it could not be helped ; now he still 
 entertained foolish, half-mad ideas of escape 
 which it took him all his time to control. 
 
 1 What is the matter with you ? try to look 
 more cheerful ; one would think you were plunged 
 in the deepest misery instead of the most happy 
 circumstances,' said his father. ' I have to keep 
 making excuses for you, — it 's — it 's a great trial 
 to me.' 
 
 ' I am sorry, but I suppose one can't help an 
 unfortunate physiognomy.' 
 
 ' No, no, of course not, of course not,' said Mr. 
 Strode absently. ' By the way, I have a letter 
 from Henry here, he wants to see you to-morrow. 
 He won't see me — the old ass — and declares that 
 gout won't let him move from his hotel.' 
 
 1 What does he want to see me for ? ' 
 
 1 Don't know, don't know, I 'm sure. Money, I 
 fancy — eh ? ' 
 
 This ill-omened word fell heavily on Gilbert's 
 ear, and next day he went to see his uncle very 
 unwillingly. 
 
 Henry was as much like a worn-out shaving- 
 brush in appearance as he had ever been. He 
 remarked that Gilbert looked ghoulish, and that 
 his old vagabond of a father fully merited his
 
 152 UGLY IDOL 
 
 reverses. Gilbert coldly interrupted that he was 
 not accustomed to hear his father spoken of in 
 that manner in his presence, and that everything 
 had been satisfactorily arranged. Henry, taking 
 no notice of this, went on to say that his nephew 
 had been a fool not to come to him before, that 
 he could not allow his heir to hold the ignominious 
 position of living on his wife's money, and that 
 he would consequently make an allowance of so 
 much, for the sake of family pride only. His 
 hatred of Mr. Strode could not be restrained for 
 long : he said, ' Well, he has killed his wife and 
 done his best to ruin his son.' 
 
 Gilbert answered that he could do without the 
 allowance offered in such a spirit, that he stood in 
 no need of it. 
 
 1 You will take what I give you, damn you ! and 
 you will use that,' throwing down a cheque, ' for 
 going abroad on. You have no say in the matter. 
 I 'm not moved by affection, I hate to think that 
 my heir is an unpresentable object. And now 
 you may go.' 
 
 So they parted with a mutual regard for each 
 other. 
 
 Next day Gilbert endured a journey in a train, 
 and Ella's and Mrs. Tegart-Hoare's attendance 
 upon him. The combined circumstances sent 
 him to bed for some days, and then the amount 
 of nursing he received caused him to get up in 
 self-defence and wander in search of peace. The 
 eldest son was sympathetic. ' There 's a place be- 
 hind the tubs in the conservatory,' he said, ' where
 
 UGLY IDOL 153 
 
 I used when ill — ' he touched his pocket-Bible 
 gently — ' you — er — won't mention it — er ? ' 
 
 ' Oh, certainly not,' returned Gilbert gratefully, 
 and he betook himself thither. 
 
 The county called, and on one or two occasions 
 Gilbert was visible, but Mrs. Tegart-Hoare pinned 
 him in a corner and introduced him to such as she 
 approved of. He saw some nice people to whom 
 he was only allowed to say a word or two. 
 Every one, of course, was charmed with Mr. Strode, 
 and Gilbert felt proud of his father as he watched 
 him conversing easily over the tea-cups ; his eye 
 dwelt again, with a new pleasure, on the charm- 
 ing smile, the jumping white hair and graceful 
 gestures. 
 
 The marriage was called 'very simple,' but 
 Gilbert thought it a long and gorgeous ceremony, 
 and the ' very few ' guests seemed to fill the big 
 drawing-rooms. Ella did not look well in white, 
 but he told her that her dress was beautiful, and 
 she was very pleased. She looked stout and 
 robust beside him, and her vivid colouring em- 
 phasised his leanness and paleness. No one, not 
 even the county paper, had much effusive praise 
 to bestow upon either of them. Frank was there 
 and ate most of the almond icing. 
 
 ' A marriage is an awfully swagger show and 
 all that,' he said to Gilbert with his mouth full, 
 ' when it 's not your own. They look the next- 
 door thing to convicts, the ones that are being 
 married, I mean.' 
 
 It was done, and Gilbert felt a dull sense of
 
 154 UGLY IDOL 
 
 relief. As soon as possible, he disappeared be- 
 hind the tubs, very glad that the honeymoon, 
 which had been projected for appearance's sake, 
 was rendered impossible by the weather. Ella 
 did not seem to have any superstitious feeling 
 about honeymoons, nor any great love of tour- 
 ing. ' Gilbert can't go out in this weather,' she 
 said with something that sounded like a sigh of 
 relief. So he went to the conservatory, and found 
 the weather depressing. He was not a man who 
 could make sunshine out of what life offered him, 
 he must have his own particular kind of sunshine 
 or none .'it all. That was how he saw Ella's 
 worst points, and all Agatha's very beautiful virtues. 
 He sat a while behind the tubs in solitude. 
 
 And the butterfly sailed away, out of reach 
 nver the hill. Adieu, adieu! petit papilloti bleu! 
 The next day, in the study, business was dis- 
 cussed, several papers signed, and so on. Mr. 
 Strode was very stupid about it, he did not com- 
 prehend what was said to him, he seemed very 
 deaf, and said, ' What ? what?' continually. He 
 fidgeted and lost his temper, and when all was 
 finished he jumped up with alacrity. ' Now, 
 
 Gilbert ' when he hesitated and fell back in 
 
 his chair unconscious. This happened at a most 
 unfortunate time, for Gilbert, knowing that some 
 such catastrophe must happen soon, had been in 
 a hurry to get back to his own house in town 
 before it occurred, and now 
 
 The doctor shook his head. ' I doubt ' he- 
 began. l He sliall live, I say it ! ' shouted Gilbert,
 
 UGLY IDOL 155 
 
 and Ella gazed at her husband in alarm. She 
 put her hand on his ; 'We must trust in God,' she 
 said simply. 
 
 ' We must get another nurse,' he answered 
 with unconscious brutality. 
 
 Mrs. Tegart-Hoare somehow, in spite of her 
 efforts to raise a proper affection, found herself 
 kept at arm's length by the new member of her 
 family, and she began to suspect that he would be 
 difficult to manage. She was astonished at the 
 energy he suddenly developed, was a little an- 
 noyed by it, and told him soothingly that he 
 really bothered too much — one could only pray. 
 
 ' He is my father. Do you not understand ? ' 
 and then he went on to say, politely, that she did 
 not need to stay at Farniston on his father's 
 account, since she had so much business awaiting 
 her in London. She looked at him and obeyed. 
 She had been saying that her duties in town 
 could wait until dear Mr. Strode was better. 
 She had, however, conveyed to the household that 
 this was an unusual sacrifice on her part. So 
 Gilbert begged her to sacrifice herself no more, 
 and, since she was not the chief mistress of the 
 situation, she complied with his request. 
 
 ' You must write every day, and tell me every- 
 thing,' she said as she kissed those of her family 
 she was leaving behind. Gilbert bore the caress 
 with frigid gravity, fully determined that it should 
 be the last. Then he showed himself master of 
 the house to such a degree that every one did his 
 bidding without demur, and Mr. Strode, with the
 
 156 UGLY IDOL 
 
 aid of the best nursing, the closest attendance, 
 and his own elasticity of constitution, partially 
 recovered. His remembrance of things, particu- 
 larly of recent events, was very vague ; but he 
 smiled whenever he saw Gilbert. 
 
 ' Yes, yes, this is my son,' he murmured, patting 
 the hand extended to him, and Gilbert came away 
 with a bright light shining in his eyes. 
 
 As soon as possible they took him up to London, 
 and then they went abroad. He recovered 
 marvellously, the doctors said, and he ruled the 
 household completely as his humours and fads 
 came back to him. Ella regretted it at first; 
 but she fell under the influence of his charm, and 
 stood with great good-humour his sharp attacks 
 of temper, his growing suspicion of her. And she 
 thought it very nice that Gilbert, such a stern, 
 precise man, should be so gentle, so untiringly 
 patient with him. 
 
 Ella was a happy person. She loved her 
 husband, all the more because he grew ' fiky,' 
 and engendered habits. She even helped him in 
 this, perhaps, by continually favouring his likes 
 and dislikes. She saw little of him when they 
 came home ; but her life was full of other things, 
 which generally had some connection with him. 
 Bed-socks, for instance. She only regretted his 
 passive, unbending opposition to her mother ; and 
 Mrs. Tegart-Hoare, who had looked forward to 
 ruling and managing this household, came to the 
 conclusion that, after all, it was as well that 
 Gilbert had chosen the house furthest away.
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 THERESA lingered in town until she heard that 
 Gilbert was better. Then she started with her 
 brother for the cottage they had by the seaside. 
 It was a nice place, standing alone with a planta- 
 tion of trees round it, on the edge of a cliff, and 
 it had a little bay to itself. Lester, contrary to 
 his usual habit, was distraught and lonely, and did 
 not seem to find his ordinary pleasure in the sea. 
 It had been his custom to lie on the cliff, the blue 
 sky above him, the blue sea below, enjoying the 
 wide vista of glowing colour. Ever since he was 
 a boy he had done that, and when Theresa had 
 asked him what he was doing, he said simply, 
 1 It is so blue, isn't it blue ? ' and he stretched up 
 his hand with an expressive gesture that made 
 the sky of much more import to her than it had 
 ever been before. She saw in it a width, an 
 unutterable depth, a magnificence. . . . When a 
 storm came he went indoors, and watched from 
 the drawing-room windows. The premonitory 
 finger of it swept over the sky in a long streak 
 of black cloud, and others, white, rolled up 
 from the horizon heavily. The sea turned grey, 
 fretted into a myriad wrinkles by an insolent 
 wind. Then each wave tossed up white, and they 
 
 157
 
 153 UGLY IDOL 
 
 rushed against the rocks, great, devouring, relent- 
 less beasts, roaring with impotent fury, foaming, 
 lashincr, clawing, retreating with a backward suck 
 for a fresh onslaught. All that, Lester pointed 
 out to Theresa from the window. These things 
 had never before ceased to interest him. It was 
 generally new, unknown things that tired him ; 
 he clung affectionately to old surroundings, and 
 never wished for any others. Perhaps, having 
 grown accustomed to Agatha's company, to have 
 had her continually his chief object of thought, 
 he missed her, and found his life dull without her. 
 Theresa, whose only business was to attend upon 
 her brother, was infected by his spirit of disquiet, 
 and worried all day long to find occupations for 
 him. He liked gardening, and took a great pride 
 in his roses ; but this year his interest flagged, 
 and none of her feints could rouse it. He was 
 also fond of sailing, and often went out in his 
 boat, Theresa, of course, always with him. It 
 was, in fact, an ideal life the)' had led there 
 hitherto in perfect companionship and freedom ; 
 but Theresa felt that she had carried the unrestful 
 atmosphere of town away with her this time, and 
 she feared, from Lester's behaviour, that he was 
 pondering over some new idea, and would sud- 
 denly insist upon returning to his big studio, and 
 plunging into work. 
 
 She was thinking about it one morning as she 
 raked and weeded, presenting an odd figure in a 
 big hat, an apron of canvas, and large earthy 
 gloves. A ball of twine protruded from one
 
 UGLY IDOL 159 
 
 pocket, three or four packets of seeds from an- 
 other, and she wore a pair of sabots she had 
 bought in France. She had not the youth and 
 beauty that look well in such attire. 
 
 She expended her anxiety upon James, a 
 willing old servant, and said to herself as she 
 tied up sweet-peas, ' I really think James is getting 
 too old. Old servants are a great mistake.' 
 
 It was one of those phrases that people cannot 
 live without. Mrs. Tegart-Hoare's was, ' I must 
 change the drawing-room curtains.' 
 
 'Theresa!' Lester called over the laurel hedge, 
 and she went quickly, accompanied by two puppies 
 who snapped at her heels at every step. 
 
 ' Dogs ! ' she said, aimlessly kicking from side 
 to side as she walked, ' I can't have it. There 's 
 a glove,' and she threw it away, watching them 
 run after it, with soft loose legs that flounced 
 about with the uncertain grace of the skirt- 
 dancer. 
 
 Lester met her, with his hands full of roses, 
 smiling with pleasure at the colour of them. 
 
 'This,' he said, taking a little bud and caressing 
 it with a dainty finger, ' what a wonderful thing it 
 is, isn't it? Look at the warmth of the life in it ; 
 this deep orange, the yellow, the green tints, just 
 unfurling and unfurling till it reaches its full- 
 blown beauty. How does it know to grow, to 
 swell, to unroll its leaves, to pack them up so 
 tightly ? ' He gazed at it in a pleasant current of 
 thought. 
 
 Theresa laid the others in a pocket.
 
 i6o UGLY IDOL 
 
 ' This yellow rose,' Lester went on dreamily, 
 'would suit her, it would go with her pale hair ' 
 
 ' Who ? ' queried Theresa sharply. 
 
 1 Agatha — don't you think so ? ' 
 
 ' Yes, perhaps it would.' 
 
 He talked about Agatha so simply and openly, 
 that it never occurred to his sister to suspect that 
 he regarded her in any way differently from other 
 women whose beauty had struck him. Perhaps 
 he did not. 
 
 He remained lost in thought, twisting the bud 
 about in his fingers, and she heard him murmur 
 ' Genevra.' 
 
 She had hoped that this idea was forgotten ; 
 since he had torn his picture to pieces he had 
 never mentioned it to her, and she felt a shiver 
 run through her as the ill-omened subject re- 
 claimed his attention. 
 
 'We had better put these roses in water,' she 
 said sadly, and turned a v. 
 
 ' Wait, let me put this here.' He fastened the 
 bud, smiling the while, on the front of her coarse 
 apron. To him she was neither plain nor absurd ; 
 he never criticised her, never connected her in 
 any way with his art ; she was his well -loved 
 sister, who, ever since he could remember, had 
 been at his side, to whom he turned for all his 
 wants, who sheltered him from the storms of life. 
 
 So she turned to go into the house, in her big 
 hat and sabots, the little bud fastened to her apron. 
 
 1 Dogs ! ' she suddenly shouted, and ran as fast 
 as her heelless shoes would permit, to her two
 
 UGLY IDOL 161 
 
 puppies, who were busy digging up the bed she had 
 just made. Perceiving her, they sat down side by 
 side, and regarded her with big sentimental eyes. 
 A torn plant still dangled from the solemn mouth 
 of one. 
 
 ' Who did that ? ' 
 
 The puppies regarded the hole in innocent 
 surprise, then suddenly eight unsteady legs and 
 two waving tails whirled round her in a loose- 
 jointed ecstasy of delight, and in half a moment 
 the lawn was strewn with chewed roses, tangled 
 twine and seeds. Theresa and the two puppies 
 were at last brought to a standstill by a connection 
 of ravelled string, and gazed helplessly round for 
 aid in the midst of the destruction. 
 
 1 Untie me, James,' said Theresa. 
 
 The old man approached cautiously, muttering 
 that the beasts would be the killing of them all 
 some day. They went away with him ; they 
 often walked with James, finding that his slow 
 gait facilitated the playing of hide-and-seek be- 
 tween his legs. This was particularly enjoyable 
 when he carried such a thing as a tea-tray. He 
 said that he was not fond of them, he called 
 them ' damned, mischievous, destructive brutes ' 
 to the gardener, and polished their collars every 
 Friday with the silver. 
 
 Theresa loved her puppies because they 
 furnished her with continual occupation of a kind 
 that did not allow time for morbid reflections, and 
 they returned her love with open devotion that 
 was very satisfying. They ran to meet her when- 
 
 L
 
 1 62 UGLY IDOL 
 
 ever she appeared, or searched for her when she 
 did not come, walloped round her feet with an 
 emotional and dental affection she could have 
 dispensed with, gazed up into her eyes with 
 sentiment, broad smiles upon their faces. They 
 destroyed the garden, tore things in the house, 
 were always audible, and were apt to appear in 
 the drawing-room, curveting and mincing, dis- 
 playing with pride ghastly scraps that the butcher 
 of the village had thrown away. Theresa gave 
 them castor-oil every Saturday. They growled 
 and quarrelled, they made all the noise in the 
 village fights, seated at a safe distance, and went 
 to sleep over the hearth-brush, one at each end, a 
 tuft of coloured hair sprouting from each mouth. 
 
 'They're so much nicer than children,' Theresa 
 told Mrs. Yorke, 'and so much less trouble!' 
 
 1 My dear ! ' murmured this lady, who theo- 
 retically loved children and adored babies, al- 
 though the only remark she had been heard to 
 address to the former was, ' Now, darling, run 
 away and play.' 
 
 When the puppies slept, the house rested. ' Sh ! 
 don't wake the dogs,' one said then, and even 
 Theresa enjoyed these moments of quiet. Lester, 
 also, was very fond of them, and sat on the lawn 
 playing with them, laughing as he seldom laughed 
 at other things, and with the high-bred discrimina- 
 tion of their kind they were never unbecomingly 
 mischievous in his presence. 
 
 Theresa and Lester led a happy life in this quiet 
 house, in the midst of its gardens and simple
 
 UGLY IDOL 163 
 
 pleasures. Afterwards Theresa wondered why 
 fate could not leave even this nook alone, why she 
 must come even here with her meddling fingers, 
 darkening the sun that had shone there peacefully 
 so many years. 
 
 At that moment, with no such thought in her 
 mind, she jerked to and fro busily, and having a 
 necessity for talking, soliloquised aloud, or carried 
 on one-sided conversations with her brother at 
 varying distances ; or else in the shade of the 
 verandah she read to him, while he sketched idly, 
 and the puppies gnawed quietly at a stolen shoe. 
 Or else again, Theresa in several aprons put on 
 unbecomingly before and behind, with sur- 
 roundings of soap, towels and scrubbing-brush, 
 was endeavouring with the aid of the gardener 
 to wash one of these animals in a big tub. On 
 these occasions James was careful to shut all the 
 doors and windows of the house, for the beast in- 
 variably escaped, a shining, soapy, slippery thing 
 that made straight indoors for refuge. 
 
 I Theresa ! ' Lester cried once at a critical 
 moment. 
 
 ' Yes, do wait, I 'm washing Adolphus.' 
 ' Theresa ! ' called the persistent voice after a 
 short interval. She went at once, and he kept 
 her some time over little matters of no great 
 importance. 
 
 I I hear sounds in the distance, I must go,' she 
 said at last, and a sticky, soapy animal gambolled 
 to meet her, well coated over with ashes from the 
 dust-heap, a favourite playground.
 
 164 UGLY IDOL 
 
 But the joy of these things faded when she saw 
 the well-known cloud settle on her brother's face 
 again. She did her best to dispel it, and sug- 
 gested a little cruise to distract his thoughts, so 
 in the afternoon they went down to the beach, 
 and punted out to the lugger in which they sailed 
 leisurely about the coast. Theresa would not 
 allow him to go alone, partly because they both 
 entertained an exaggerated idea of his dependence 
 upon her, and partly because he was apt to dream 
 occasionally and forget to pay attention to his 
 sails. She did not even care for him to scramble 
 about the rocks in the bay ; out at the point the 
 water was very deep, the shore shelved, and there 
 were quicksands. He had been accustomed to 
 sailing all his life, but it was too hard work for 
 him now to go alone. 
 
 It was delightful out in the boat that day; a 
 little breeze bore them gently along ; the coast 
 was yellow in the glowing sun ; the sky was blue, 
 the sea was blue, the trees very green, the sand 
 white, and this vivid blaze of colour formed a 
 landscape scarcely English. 
 
 Theresa talked, but Lester gave no answer, he 
 appeared to be asleep. ' You know,' she went on, 
 ' it is no use puzzling about it, you could paint 
 the picture better without Agatha ; you are wasting 
 time over her, she is incapable of the expressions 
 you want, she hasn't got it in her. Why do you 
 go on wasting time over her?' 
 
 1 I will make her,' he murmured drowsily. 
 Then he woke up and talked about the sea, and
 
 UGLY IDOL 165 
 
 all those little things that make conversation 
 pleasant. In the evening they returned, Theresa 
 heavy of heart, Lester happy and content 
 
 Next morning, in turning over the letters at 
 breakfast, she appeared to James to be in a bad 
 humour, and her comments upon her corre- 
 spondence were not kind. 
 
 1 Gilbert — at last. I hope he doesn't write to 
 Agatha ; he has no one with sense to look after 
 him, now that I am out of the way. Decidedly 
 my lot in life is to act super and chambermaid in 
 every one else's dramas. Mrs. Yorke, dear me ! ' 
 
 She proceeded to each one in turn, soliloquising 
 as was her habit while she opened the envelopes. 
 
 ' Dogs ! ' she cried, as she unfolded Gilbert's 
 letter, ' be quiet, and leave the hearth-brush alone, 
 I can't hear myself speak.' 
 
 The letter was short and crisp enough. 
 
 'Dear Theresa, — I am all right again, and 
 cannot thank you enough for all your kindness, 
 but I shall hope to do so in person when we meet 
 again. I have been extremely busy during the 
 last month or two, and that must excuse my 
 silence. I am married and my father has been 
 dangerously ill ' — (Theresa read this twice, and 
 then went on mechanically, without comment). — 
 ' I will not hide from you, that the chief object was 
 money' — (here a whole sentence was scratched out, 
 and though she investigated it inquisitively for 
 some time, she could make nothing out). — 'You 
 may express your sentiments as much as you 
 like by letter, should you find my news astonish-
 
 1 66 UGLY IDOL 
 
 ing, but do not mention the subject when I see 
 you. And, Theresa, Ella loves me more than I 
 deserve. . . . My father is very happy ; he likes 
 the society of the doctor, and luckily I can afford 
 these luxuries for him now. Our new address is 
 below. We are, however, going away, and will 
 not be there till autumn.' 
 
 That was about all it contained, and his writing 
 was stiff, as though he had gripped his pen very 
 hard. 
 
 Theresa jumped up from the table, absently 
 shoved the puppies away from the hearth-brush, 
 and sat down to write an answer at once. The 
 puppies returned to the brush. 
 
 The first page of her letter bristled with an 
 anger that wanned Gilbert to an affectionate smile 
 when he read it, but at the end a round watery 
 blot attracted his attention, and he put the sheet 
 away carefully in his pocket. 
 
 The puppies sat solemnly side by side, their 
 fascinated eyes fixed on Theresa's white hand- 
 kerchief. They waited in silence till she dropped 
 it, then seized upon it with a squirm of joy and 
 galloped out into the garden, mouthing it. Having 
 torn it to pieces, they returned proudly and 
 attracted her attention to the pieces. She gave 
 them a slap and a lump of sugar. 
 
 In Mrs. Yorke's letter there was nothing but a 
 little gossip. She heard that Gilbert had married 
 a Tegart-Hoare, quite a nice girl, though not in 
 her set. He was really very wise to marry into a 
 family with money. She rambled on for three
 
 UGLY IDOL 167 
 
 pages, and at last came to the purpose of her 
 writing. The climate in the north did not agree 
 with Agatha, who was certainly not well, which 
 was a nuisance, since she herself was also seedy. 
 She was enchanted with Theresa's description of 
 her home, and wished to know whether there were 
 any nice little houses to let there ; if so, she would 
 be delighted to settle near friends for the summer. 
 Was there any society ? 
 
 1 No,' growled Theresa. ' Certainly none that 
 you will care for.' At this moment Lester entered 
 the room, and idly looked over her shoulder to 
 see what she was reading. 
 
 1 Mrs. Yorke wants to come here.' 
 
 1 To us ? That is very nice.' 
 
 'You would like them to come?' 
 
 1 Oh yes — very much.' 
 
 ' Here, as guests ? ' 
 
 1 Do you not mean that ? ' 
 
 ' If you would like it.' 
 
 'Yes, I would like it.' 
 
 ' Very well,' and with a sigh she wrote to invite 
 them. 
 
 An effusive answer came a day or two later, 
 followed after another interval by Mrs. Yorke's 
 own charming person. 
 
 ' What a delightful place ! So secluded and 
 peaceful ! ' 
 
 ' I only hope you won't find it dull, there is 
 nothing to do,' said Theresa with scant grace. 
 ' We are absolutely idle all day long.' 
 
 1 Yet you have as usual the air of being ex-
 
 1 68 UGLY IDOL 
 
 tremely busy'; Mrs. Yorke regarded her hostess's 
 apron and trowel. ' One is never dull with you,' 
 she added. 
 
 She continued to be amused during the two 
 months she spent there. She sat generally in 
 front of the house, a great ornament to the garden, 
 and Lester was aware that the scenery was 
 improved by her ; or else she went out in the 
 boat, only after a few cautious questions as to 
 whether they should not take a man. Theresa 
 pottered about as usual, somewhat annoyed to 
 find that her soliloquies were always answered, 
 and that she was obliged to keep her dogs out of 
 the house. Agatha was silent and gentle, and 
 Theresa treated her as a nonentity, and, like her 
 mother, was rather glad she kept so much to her 
 room. 
 
 1 You have come ? ' Lester said to her. 
 
 She answered, ' Yes.' 
 
 ' I have not seen you for a long time.' 
 
 ' No, such a long time — to me ! — but you have 
 not noticed my absence, you have other things 
 to do.' 
 
 ' Oh, I have missed you ! ' 
 
 ' Missed me,' she murmured. He looked at 
 her as she stood before him in the green shadow 
 of the trees, delicate lights touching her pale hair, 
 her white face. 
 
 ' Yes,' he whispered in delight, ' I have missed 
 you.' He drew her down to him and kissed her, 
 and seemed to find the same pleasure in gazing at 
 her as at a flower.
 
 UGLY IDOL 169 
 
 ' Very beautiful ! ' he cried, his sparkling eyes 
 looking through her, beyond her. He held her 
 hands, he touched her face with caressing fingers 
 and kissed her again. 
 
 1 You are glad to be with me ? ' 
 
 ' Yes, oh yes ! ' 
 
 ' With me, with me ? ' he urged. 
 
 1 But you know I love you ! ' 
 
 He held her hands tightly, drinking in the 
 music of her words, watching the green shadows 
 flicker on her face. 
 
 ' I love you, I love you,' that was all she had to 
 say, and she said it again and again in response 
 to his asking eyes. 
 
 Agatha was so quietly happy, pursuing her 
 way and the course of her passion so calmly, 
 without evidence of excitement, that Theresa saw 
 nothing, nor yet suspected anything. Lester was 
 the last person to raise her suspicions, and having 
 taken it into her head that Agatha was capable 
 only of commonplace talk and action, she would 
 have continued in her opinion with very flagrant 
 evidences to the contrary under her nose. She 
 heard Lester tell Agatha of his meditated next 
 picture, she heard her reply that she would sit as 
 long as he liked, and she passed by without 
 hearing any more of the conversation, or troubling 
 about it. She was glad that Lester had another 
 companion : it was a change for him ; her com- 
 pany must often tire him, she thought, and she 
 noticed that he was better and brighter since the 
 arrival of the Yorkes.
 
 170 UGLY IDOL 
 
 It hurt her a little. 'You are an idiot, Theresa, 
 you are growing selfish, a monomaniac ; and re- 
 member you are only the chambermaid,' she 
 said to herself, and went out and cuddled her 
 dogs. 
 
 Mrs. Yorke, having nothing else to do, awoke to 
 the fact that Agatha was really very much with 
 Lester ; she began to wonder, being a conven- 
 tional person, whether that was right, considering 
 his peculiarities. She thought about it at ease, 
 a little surprised, a little put out that the idea had 
 not occurred to her before. She personally dis- 
 liked Lester very much when he was not there, 
 and she was a little frightened of him in his pre- 
 sence because he took no notice of her. But she 
 really could not undertake to speak to Agatha 
 and make a fuss ; Agatha sometimes displayed a 
 temper that was quite upsetting. It would, in 
 fact, be a relief to have her married, to a genius 
 too. So she said, ' I will just let it be, it couldn't 
 be better.' 
 
 She remembered the many sittings, and deter- 
 mined to speak to Theresa on the subject, since 
 Lester was so very irresponsible. 
 
 1 Theresa, I believe you invited us down here 
 on purpose.' 
 
 ' What purpose ? ' 
 
 1 Why, you intriguer, for Lester and Agatha to 
 be together.' 
 
 1 He enjoys her company.' 
 
 ' Well, if you put it that way, it's the same thing.' 
 
 ' Same whaf ? ' asked Theresa sharply, mystified.
 
 UGLY IDOL 171 
 
 ' My dear, don't bite me. It 's impossible that 
 you haven't remarked it. Why, ever since I have 
 been here it has been as plain to me as daylight. 
 They are always together, everywhere. It's 
 horrid, you know, when one grows old to see 
 others doing it, but of course I am pleased for 
 Agatha's sake. I never in the least suspected 
 such an ambitious turn of things for her.' 
 
 1 1 don't understand,' said Theresa, following a 
 puppy with a corner of her eye. 
 
 1 I believe your attention is riveted on that 
 horrid dog ! ' Mrs. Yorke paused, astonished at 
 Theresa's obtuseness. Besides, the subject was 
 always one that one skirted round about, hinted 
 delicately, — a perfumed lace handkerchief of a 
 thing which one dangled with daintiness. Cupid 
 is a dressed person ; has wings, and a quiver, and 
 a strap to fasten it on by — oh, very much dressed. 
 It is impossible to denude him. 
 
 1 Must I be plain ? Dear me ! Well, don't you 
 see that they are practically what you might call 
 — engaged ? ' 
 
 ( Engaged ! ' repeated Theresa blankly. 
 
 1 Think of all those sittings and things. And 
 now, I spoke to Agatha last night. She did not 
 contradict me. And just think what people would 
 say, after all this, if they weren't ! ' 
 
 ' Engaged ! ' said Theresa again, and suddenly 
 dropping her trowel marched off without another 
 word. 
 
 ' It seems to me that every one is a maniac 
 nowadays. I suppose clever people are pre-
 
 172 UGLY IDOL 
 
 dominating. I am afraid that I prefer amusing 
 people. Agatha was quite mad last night, had 
 nothing to say for herself ; and now Theresa, as 
 usual, is cracked in her behaviour. It's lucky 
 that I looked into it after all, but it's really a 
 great nuisance. And it is getting very cold.' 
 Mrs. Yorke went indoors. 
 
 Theresa went straight off to look for Agatha, 
 and, having found her, stood stock-still before her 
 without uttering a word. When she spoke it was 
 softly, very kindly. She had not much to say. 
 
 ' Agatha.' 
 
 ' Yes.' 
 
 I Are you engaged to Lester ? ' 
 Agatha stared at her in amazement. 
 
 'Are you engaged to my brother? because, if 
 so, I ought to know, you know.' 
 
 I I don't know,' said Agatha dreamily. 
 * What ! ' 
 
 1 1 love him.' 
 
 ' Ah, then it 's true ! ' 
 
 ' Yes, oh yes,' said Agatha with sudden eager- 
 ness, and, taking Theresa's hand in hers, she 
 added, ' And he loves me.' 
 
 Theresa said nothing. She looked at Agatha, 
 and had a glimmering now of what Lester admired 
 in her. She was distressed, and gently disengaged 
 herself from the retaining hand. She seemed 
 about to speak, but she hesitated, and finally 
 sighed, without any remark. 
 
 ' I hope it 's all right,' she murmured as she 
 went away, carrying with her a picture of Agatha's
 
 UGLY IDOL 173 
 
 face. ' No, it is all wrong ! ' Then she went out 
 for a long walk with her dogs. She was away a 
 long time, and when she came back and heard 
 that Lester had been asking for her, the same 
 irresolution came on her face. He welcomed her 
 eagerly, and wanted to know why she had gone 
 away without telling him, and for so long. 
 
 ' No, no,' she said to herself; ' not yet, not now.' 
 After this the atmosphere of the household became 
 perturbed. Theresa was abstracted, moody, and 
 sad, and Mrs. Yorke felt awkward. 
 
 So in the end of September it grew cold, the 
 leaves began to fall, and Mrs. Yorke found it 
 melancholy. Theresa said she liked autumn in 
 the country better than any other season of the 
 year. The red leaves and purple tinge of the 
 baring trees seemed to her an exquisite combina- 
 tion, and she liked the still decay of things. 
 
 ' Ghoul ! ' replied Mrs. Yorke, with a twirl of 
 her umbrella. ' You won't care for these things 
 when you grow older. It reminds you of death, 
 and that all things end.' She shuddered. 
 
 Lester was beginning to suffer from the damp 
 weather and to weary of his idleness, so they 
 determined to return to town. 
 
 Although the puppies had attained a certain 
 state of sobriety, it was impossible that both 
 should accompany their mistress, and with many 
 pangs she resolved to part with one, and spent 
 much time in discussing to whom she could trust 
 him. At last she decided to send him to Gilbert, 
 and forthwith despatched him, without asking this
 
 174 UGLY IDOL 
 
 gentleman whether he wanted a dog or not. She 
 wrote a long letter, which seemed to take a great 
 deal of thought. She said that the dog's name 
 was Gustavus Adolphus, and that he answered to 
 Dauphin, Dolphin, Japhet. He ate Spratt's puppy- 
 biscuits, pear-peelings, bread and mustard, goose- 
 berries, strawberries, nuts and sweets, shoes, 
 pencils, hearth-brushes, and — important item — 
 cinders. Then she paused. She remembered the 
 day when Gilbert had helped her to clean the 
 studio ; now he was married, and Agatha had 
 passed out of his life. But she knew Gilbert. 
 ' Feelings, full of feelings,' she snapped to herself, 
 and wrote a long letter about Gustavus Adolphus. 
 At the end she put, ' We are coming back to town 
 in a week's time. Agatha's engagement to Lester 
 will be given out.' 
 
 'Suppose Gilbert doesn't want the dog? He 
 may find it rather expensive ; new house, too,' 
 said Mrs. Yorke dubiously, watching the many 
 preparations made for Adolphus's convenient 
 travelling. 
 
 1 Impossible ! ' 
 
 1 But his wife? ' 
 
 ' Wife ! ' said Theresa, with a nut-cracker snap 
 of her jaws. 
 
 ' I am afraid she is rather a nonentity, and I 
 should say that he is a very unpleasant husband.' 
 
 1 His appearance is awe-inspiring, luckily. A 
 hideous enough Guy Fawkes to keep people from 
 seeing the straw he is stuffed with.' 
 
 Mrs. Yorke, in fear of travelling with the
 
 UGLY IDOL 175 
 
 remaining puppy, hurried away at once, and 
 Theresa did not seek to detain her. 
 
 Agatha told Lester that she would see him 
 again very soon ; she took two hours to the say- 
 ing of this, and she left him with a glow on her 
 cheeks and a perfectly placid brow. 
 
 So Mrs. Yorke and Agatha returned, and then 
 Theresa and her brother, and no sooner had they 
 arrived than Agatha was always about again — it 
 seemed, at least, to Theresa that she was always 
 there. Lester filled odd moments by working up 
 the Genevra again ; it progressed very slowly, and 
 sometimes, but seldom, he would sketch Agatha 
 roughly in charcoal, generally rubbing it out as 
 soon as it was done. His silent patience was well 
 known to his sister ; he was apparently no longer 
 interested in this picture, for he was engaged on 
 others, one or two pressing commissions ; yet she 
 knew that even if it took him ten years he would 
 still do it, and she prayed that he might not find 
 another who suited him better than Agatha. At 
 times, when she thought over it, she wondered 
 whether it was not all a concoction of some- 
 body's, if she could not yet snatch Lester back to 
 herself and carry him away to the other end of 
 the world. People came and congratulated, and 
 she listened dully, answering prosaically that it 
 'would greatly depend on Lester's health, and 
 other circumstances ; she could fix no date — in 
 spring probably, May or June.' Then she laughed 
 to herself; should she tell them that it was all a 
 farce ? Lester loved no one but her, and had she
 
 176 UGLY IDOL 
 
 not given up her whole life to him ? It was 
 absurd to connect anything so human as love of 
 woman with him — he, who had none of the ordi- 
 nary passions of men. Such a simple, simple little 
 man, — yet his simplicity had not been respected ; 
 Mrs. Yorke and her daughter had, of course, been 
 scheming ; Theresa, if she had only not been so 
 blind, could have stopped it all long ago. Surely 
 Agatha was only art to him ? Theresa asked 
 herself questions in infinite sadness, for, beyond a 
 certain point, she knew her brother no better than 
 any one else. She watched Agatha, but her happy, 
 placid exterior was impenetrable ; how should she 
 be warned that he was not as other men ? 
 
 ' If Eve hadn't been made of Adam's rib, she 
 wouldn't be attached to him, dear dog, and 
 wouldn't disturb you and me,' she was remarking 
 to Marcus, when a visitor came just when she was 
 not wanted, and prattled on subjects that Theresa 
 felt no interest in just then.
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 GILBERT was very busy, he made a point of being 
 so. He helped Ella and her Anglican aunts, 
 but in such a manner as to show them that he 
 was not one of them and did not intend to be- 
 come so. Mrs. Tegart-Hoare was not often in 
 the house of her son-in-law ; she preferred that 
 Ella should go to her. But still entertaining 
 thoughts of Gilbert's conversion, she sometimes 
 went on Saturdays, when she knew he would be 
 there. She pervaded the house the moment she 
 was inside the door : why did Gilbert hang all 
 his coats in the hall ? the new housemaid left dust 
 on the stairs ; what price did Ella pay for her 
 bacon ? Her voice faded away in the distance 
 as she went upstairs to Ella's bedroom, and 
 servants furtively huddled things into cupboards. 
 She visited Mr. Strode, read to him, excited him, 
 angered Gilbert, who felt that he had been gently 
 scraped with a grater beyond endurance, kissed 
 Ella, smiled supremely at the pegs where Gilbert's 
 coats had hung when she arrived, and left texts 
 for Ella to paint. 
 
 Immediately after one of these visits, Gilbert 
 had taken his wife to see Theresa, but the visit 
 had been a failure. Some of Theresa's most 
 
 M 177
 
 178 UGLY IDOL 
 
 peculiar friends happened to be there, and 
 astonished Ella, who had been brought up in the 
 very good and solid society which remains, in the 
 midst of London, provincial. She was shocked ; 
 and was distressed to note that her husband 
 appeared to find himself at home amongst these 
 people, that his manner was indeed far less stiff 
 than she had seen it before. 
 
 ' No, Gilbert,' she said when they came away, 
 ' Miss Schelless is your friend, but ' 
 
 Somehow she seemed to him at that moment 
 more stupid, more gauche than ever. 
 
 1 1 will not force you to know them,' he an- 
 swered. ' But I have known Theresa all my life, 
 and of course I intend ' 
 
 1 Oh, of course,' assented Ella, but a tone in 
 her voice told him she agreed only with reluc- 
 tance, and they continued their journey in silent 
 displeasure with each other. 
 
 As he took out his latch-key at the corner of 
 the street, a little brougham bowled up to the 
 door, and to his surprise his father got out slowly, 
 and stood laughing and nodding his head to some 
 one inside. Then he made a sweeping bow, and 
 the brougham went away. 
 
 1 Well, Gilbert,' he cried, with a radiant smile, 
 waving his stick, ' guess who that was ? ' 
 
 ' Some one I know ? ' asked his son, giving his 
 arm to help him up the steps. 
 
 'You did know, any way. Well, now, Mrs. 
 Yorke, I met her round the corner. Most aston- 
 ishing how people turn up, isn't it, after years of
 
 UGLY IDOL 179 
 
 separation ! As charming and as youthful as 
 ever — wonderful woman ! ' 
 
 Gilbert tried to answer with a smile, but Yorke, 
 Yorke, always that name — it seemed to dog him 
 persistently, and he wanted so to forget it. 
 
 He was not nice at dinner that evening ; there 
 was nothing to find fault with, and this annoyed 
 him ; and he was unreasonably provoked that 
 his father found such a pleasure in his discovery 
 of Mrs. Yorke. He looked back, with opened 
 eyes, at the days of Campagne Saleve, and at the 
 mischief the thoughtless little woman — of course 
 it was her fault entirely — had been nigh to making. 
 It pained him that when she came again, she 
 was so welcomed. But then, true, if it amused 
 his father — Ella unconsciously blundered by re- 
 marking that Mrs. Yorke had been to call the 
 other day, and that she was very nice, and well- 
 dressed. ' It was affecting to see how delighted 
 she was to meet your father. Are you cross, 
 dear ? ' she added, after gazing at him for a 
 moment. 
 
 ■ No,' he replied, with every sign of this state 
 of mind upon his face. 
 
 After dinner it entered into his head to wind 
 up all the clocks, keeping his wife running for 
 this and that incessantly. She had asked him a 
 week before to put together some models she was 
 making for a bazaar, and suddenly he announced, 
 that since he had no particular business to-night, 
 he would do them now. She and the servants 
 were accustomed to these attacks of busy tidi-
 
 180 UGLY IDOL 
 
 ness, and Ella liked them, for they brought him 
 closer to her ; on other nights he had so 
 often ' something to do ' in the study. Still, she 
 suspected that they occurred when he was put 
 out, for he generally looked pained and ill, 
 smoked much, and answered her coldly when she 
 spoke to him. To-night, with a smelling pot 
 of glue on the fire, newspapers spread on the 
 hearthrug, he turned up his sleeves and investi- 
 gated the pieces with an absent and gloomy ex- 
 pression. 
 
 ' You are so neat-handed that I thought you 
 had better do it, but don't trouble if you are tired. 
 Why don't you rest sometimes? you are always 
 working; is it wise? — oh, I think it's the Eiffel 
 Tower, or some such thing. I thought it might 
 be raffled — do take care of the carpet ; hadn't you 
 better do it in the dining-room ? Oh dear, I hear 
 that dog ! ' 
 
 She bounced up with her usual energy, and ran 
 away calling Gustavus Adolphus. She liked the 
 dog, and romped with him ; but she wished that 
 he were not allowed so much in the house, and 
 by sundry complainings had tried to get him 
 expelled to the kitchen ; but Gilbert, suspecting 
 her of disliking him after the fashion of her 
 mother, who sat upon and squashed all things 
 she did not approve of, coldly refused. His wife 
 therefore spent the first month after the beast's 
 arrival in guarding her household properties. 
 
 Her abrupt departure caused a disturbance in 
 his arrangements on the hearthrug ; but he made
 
 UGLY IDOL 181 
 
 no remark. He lifted a weary eyebrow, and felt 
 lonely, for his father's hand trembled too much 
 now for him to occupy himself with such neat 
 work as he had done formerly. 
 
 Ella returned, breathing hard with her exer- 
 cise, and plumped down beside him, fingering the 
 pieces and talking. Gilbert confined himself to 
 1 Pass me this,' ' Take hold of that for a moment,' 
 1 Don't shake,' and so on. 
 
 'Wouldn't your father like to do this?' 
 1 1 am afraid his hand shakes too much.' 
 ' What a pity ! because I fear he is lonely up 
 there all day long. He does not like me, and he 
 does not care to have the Bible or any other book 
 read to him ; but I suppose I read badly. I read 
 so little, and I get so sleepy at night.' 
 
 This last phrase penetrated to Gilbert's wander- 
 ing thoughts, and he suddenly became aware that, 
 without complaint, she led a very lonely life, and 
 passed whole evenings by herself. He glanced 
 up ; yes, there she was, watching him affection- 
 ately, and he, beast, had been as nasty as he could 
 be all day. But then, he thought angrily, how 
 could she expect him to be nice? Had he not 
 suffered, suffered ? . . . did she not continually fret 
 and worry him ? was not his whole life a failure, 
 and she the tangible evidence of it ? 
 
 She caught his eye as he looked up, and smiled 
 in response. He blushed with shame, and hastened 
 to make up for his negligence. Brute that he was, 
 he had no business to inflict his private grievances 
 upon her.
 
 182 UGLY IDOL 
 
 ' The edifice grows,' he remarked pleasantly. 
 
 ' It 's quite nice work, isn't it ? ' 
 
 ' Lay the foundation-stone, Ella, to bring it 
 good luck.' 
 
 She did so, laughing the while. 
 
 Then, when they separated for the night, he 
 kissed her affectionately. 
 
 ' My good wife ! ' he murmured, for sometimes, 
 when he awoke to her innocent, single-hearted 
 love of him, her tolerance of his caprices, he 
 admired her again as on the day that she had 
 said, 'Yes, Gilbert' 
 
 But when he looked forward to a long per- 
 spective of years to be spent in this way, a cold- 
 ness settled on him, and he knew that long before 
 the way was half traversed, something would 
 happen, or he would go mad. No, he could not 
 go on, and on. . . . He felt a hot hatred of all 
 around him, a vague desire of vengeance . . . yes, 
 he wanted to revenge himself on something or 
 some one, — on whom ? He was almost afraid to 
 trust himself in Ella's company. Perhaps he was 
 mad now, —ah no. ... A big desire to see Agatha 
 grew in him ; he had not seen her for so long. 
 He had kept himself away so scrupulously. That 
 was why. He thought of her so often that all 
 his thoughts seemed to run into that one groove. 
 Or was it Agatha that he dreamt of, or only all 
 the beautiful things that, in his life, he had only 
 touched with his finger-tips, had only seen far 
 away? Other people attained all that they 
 wished, and he Suddenly he stretched out
 
 UGLY IDOL 183 
 
 a clutching hand, and cried, ' So I will ! ' Then 
 he dropped his head, and told himself that that 
 was impossible. 
 
 Out across a summer sky, a blue butterfly had 
 flown away peacefully over a hill. Adieu ! adieu ! 
 fi tit papillon bleu ! 
 
 And yet, time passed, weeks perhaps, or months, 
 and he dawdled on. He had given up going to 
 Theresa, and heard nothing of what passed. He 
 was scarcely even missed by Theresa, who was 
 too much occupied in her own thoughts to notice 
 his absence. No one missed him. Agatha and 
 Lester went their way in sublime happiness. Mrs. 
 Yorke was pleasantly engaged in planning and 
 replanning the marriage. 
 
 But Theresa, not knowing this, was working 
 towards the conclusion that the marriage should 
 never take place. She would say to people, ' Oh, 
 it is broken off,' and then one would go away and 
 shrug a shoulder, and murmur, ' It is only a genius.' 
 
 Many things had brought her to this conclusion. 
 
 She sat outside in the drawing-room, quite 
 alone, and she could hear Lester's voice in the 
 studio ; he was in a passion again. This could 
 not go on any longer ; she would have to speak 
 to Agatha, to open her eyes, to tell her point- 
 blank that he only loved her as something to 
 paint ; but she had let the time slip by, and every 
 moment she was alone with Agatha she talked 
 studiously of other things. For many weeks she 
 had heard Lester's uplifted voice in the studio, 
 and knew that the Genevra was failing again.
 
 1 84 UGLY IDOL 
 
 Agatha had sat to him, and sat to him, at 
 intervals during the winter. The picture was 
 nearly finished, and it did not please him. 
 
 He received Agatha to-day with a troubled 
 face; he ran to meet her, and she saw the strange 
 expression again that had been growing on his 
 face for many weeks. 
 
 ' You have not come for a long time. I have 
 been waiting for you.' 
 
 1 1 was not well.' 
 
 ' But I wanted you.' 
 
 He watched impatiently while she took off her 
 hat and cloak quickly. He drew her by one arm 
 to the platform, and forced her into position with 
 unconscious roughness. 
 
 ' Why do you not look as I wish you to ? Do 
 you not see what I want ? ' 
 
 His gaze frightened her, and she tried to soothe 
 him by the caresses that had never failed yet to 
 quiet him. He did not respond, did not even 
 listen. The subtle influence that she had been 
 gaining over him, which she had felt, and of which 
 she had enjoyed the exercise, was gone, or was of 
 no avail when the passion that brooded at the 
 back of his eye shot forth with an ominous 
 sparkle. 
 
 1 If I only saw it, if I could only see it ! ' he 
 muttered to himself, and turned to the picture. 
 
 Then he began to paint. 
 
 Agatha thought that she remained in the 
 strained position in which he put her for hours ; 
 once she asked for a rest ; but he did not hear
 
 UGLY IDOL 185 
 
 her. He was seeking, seeking for the expression, 
 the one expression that receded obstinately from 
 his eager hand. He went on desperately, trying 
 to clutch at what he could not catch hold of. 
 Maddened with a sense of failure, he went on, 
 with more concentration than he had ever shown 
 before. He would do it, he must, and he turned 
 again to study her. But as he looked, she wavered, 
 once or twice she swayed, and then fell heavily 
 upon the floor, and lay there without a movement. 
 He ran to her, knelt beside her, called to her ; but 
 she did not answer. 
 
 ' Agatha ! Agatha ! ' He touched her, he kissed 
 her, he knew that by the saying of certain things 
 he could awaken a look in her eyes that he loved ; 
 but she baffled him now. She neither answered 
 nor stirred. This made him angry, and he tried 
 rougher measures, and then in his helplessness he 
 rose to go for Theresa ; but on his way to the 
 door, he passed the easel where he was working, 
 paused to note the effect of the picture. It 
 reclaimed his attention, and he set to work again, 
 forgetting the woman who lay there prone, no 
 longer of any use to him, no more in his 
 thoughts. 
 
 Presently he drew back to regard the effect of 
 his work again ; then he flung away his brush, 
 the palette clattered to the floor and he stamped 
 upon it. A great anger at the thing, the paltry, 
 baffling thing, seized him ; his inability to conquer 
 it — he, who had never known what it was to be 
 overmastered — drove him mad with fury, with
 
 1 86 UGLY IDOL 
 
 thwarted will. He ran about the room, beside 
 himself, silent, for the words stuttered behind his 
 clenched teeth. He came against the platform 
 and saw Agatha lying there still, and his eyes 
 gleamed as he sprang towards her, all his passions 
 concentrated in this glance. He sat beside her 
 for a moment inactive, gleaming, smiling, trem- 
 bling, and then, his notice attracted by her shiny 
 hair, he plunged his hands into it, seized her by 
 it and shook her, — he shook her. 
 
 1 You ! It is you ! ' he hissed. ' You ! You will 
 not obey me — you can, you shall — I will make 
 you, — oh — I will make you — I — I — do you hear? 
 — you shall ! You ! — ah ! ' He flung himself upon 
 her, panting, shaking her still, to make her 
 answer. 
 
 ' I am never mistaken, — why do you not answer 
 mc? I will do it — it is so easy — you keep me 
 from it. You ' 
 
 He clawed her with fingers already growing 
 weak. He waited a moment, but she did not 
 answer him, and the gleam grew colder in his 
 eyes. 
 
 'I will make you. 1 — I will make you!' he 
 whispered lower and lower. His little hands 
 crept round her neck, the sibilant whispers 
 dropped from him more slowly, his own fair, 
 fluffy hair touched hers as he bent over her, and 
 his little hands crept round her neck. . . . 
 
 Suddenly her eyelids quivered, lifted, and she 
 looked up at him, consciousness gathering and 
 bringing with it the look he loved. He dropped
 
 UGLY IDOL 187 
 
 back, watching the smile spread over her face ; 
 he was astonished, he trembled still, and the 
 perspiration glistened on his forehead. No, this 
 was not the creature who had lain there a 
 moment since, who had baffled him, opposed 
 him ; this was she who caused him so much 
 pleasure. 
 
 Agatha realised that she had fainted, and — he 
 was there, he had restored her. . . . He had left 
 his work, he, who could not be drawn from it 
 even by Theresa — he had come to her aid, was 
 leaning over her now. 
 
 ' Lester ! I have fainted ; have I interrupted 
 you ? Forgive me, I could not help it, but do 
 not be troubled on my account, do not look so 
 troubled. See, I am all right, do not be worried. 
 Let us go.' 
 
 He felt her embrace again, and the beautiful 
 face looked up at him as he loved ; yet a remem- 
 brance of his hands round her neck, and all that 
 he felt when he put them there, lingered in his 
 confused thoughts, and he watched her distrust- 
 fully. 
 
 ' I do not want you,' he murmured, ' to sit any 
 more.' 
 
 She gazed at him in astonishment, then she 
 noted his fatigue and trembling hand, and 
 wondered at the sensitiveness of his nature. She 
 whispered soothingly all the caressing words she 
 knew to calm him, but his troubled air, his 
 perplexed frown, his doubting eyes frightened 
 her, and she felt a momentary uneasiness.
 
 i88 UGLY IDOL 
 
 ' Lester ! ' she cried, ' what is it ? Will you not 
 tell me ? What is the matter with you ? ' 
 
 He continued to regard her in silence, watching 
 her frightened face in fascination. 
 
 'Yes,' he murmured at last. ' It is she, and she 
 is beautiful.' The gratified smile came to his lips 
 as he listened to her ; he was very tired, and the 
 sound of her voice was pleasant in his ears. He 
 urged her on, he held her hand, and a sense of 
 peace and well-being stole over him. 
 
 The door behind the curtains opened, and 
 Theresa came in. For a moment she looked at 
 them, and for a second time she understood the 
 beauty of Agatha, and she realised that art 
 sometimes is only the shadow of reality, and that 
 even out of pictures women looked like this. 
 
 She banged the door. 
 
 Agatha turned, and Theresa's appearance 
 brought her back to the ordinary life that existed 
 for her outside the studio. She wondered 
 dreamily how it came to have invaded here. 
 
 ' Agatha,' said Theresa, ' I think he is ill to-day, 
 and you have been here a long time.' 
 
 ' Yes, I am afraid he is very tired ; I will go.' 
 She turned to Lester and repeated to him that 
 she would have to go now. He put his arm round 
 her to detain her. ' No, no,' he said, kissing her. 
 
 Theresa turned her back and clasped her bony 
 hands together. ' It is evident that I must remain 
 sane,' she said to herself, trying to fill her ears 
 with her own nonsense. ' Yes, I am sane ; it is 
 the only bathos of life, and makes everything
 
 UGLY IDOL 189 
 
 ridiculous. Theresa is ridiculous, and inadequate 
 language only gives her a big Damn, and that is 
 not appropriate.' 
 
 She turned briskly and found that Agatha was 
 just shutting the door. 
 
 1 Lester ! ' 
 
 He did not answer. 
 
 ' Lester, listen, dear. Do you love this woman?' 
 
 Seeing that it was Theresa, he smiled as he had 
 always smiled to her, and she cried suddenly : 
 
 ' Lester, you will never leave me, you love your 
 sister, you will not go away from her ? Oh, you 
 will not leave me alone — now ? ' 
 
 • What ? Theresa, what is the matter with 
 you ? — leave you ? ' 
 
 She knew quite well that he could not do 
 without her : she read it in his eyes. 
 
 ' No, no, I was talking nonsense, as usual.' She 
 was silent for some time, thinking, perhaps, that 
 if it had not been for her blindness all this might 
 never have happened, and as it was 
 
 1 But do you love Agatha, Lester ? ' 
 
 She watched his vague eyes travel round the 
 room. ' Yes,' he said at last. 
 
 1 But do you realise what that means ? You 
 know you must marry her.' 
 
 Lester was becoming more and more dreamy 
 and did not seem to hear. 
 
 ' Lester, you must marry her, you know that ? ' 
 
 A painful, dreary business this that Theresa 
 had to do. 
 
 He turned his face towards her slowly.
 
 190 UGLY IDOL 
 
 1 Yes, — very well. I am so tired,' he answered 
 vaguely, almost sleepily. 
 
 1 Yes, but attend, dear, do you hear what I say?' 
 
 ' Yes, yes,' and his eyes closed heavily. 
 
 Theresa felt her loneliness and friendless- 
 ness very much ; the burden that rested on her 
 shoulders w;is great, and she had no one to 
 help her. How could she say to Agatha, 'Go 
 away while there is yet time — he does not love 
 you'? Mow could she tell her that he would tire 
 of her, that he could not live without her, Theresa, 
 and that moreover he grew restless, excited, ill, in 
 th<- other's company? 'You will not be happy 
 together, and you will not want me.' Agatha 
 would not understand. She would simply be 
 angry. And then if Theresa allowed the marriage 
 to take place, ditl she not know very well what 
 
 the consequences would be? No, at all costs.it 
 could not he allowed ; her first consideration was 
 of course her brother, his happiness, his comfort, 
 his health. What a fool she had been ! why had 
 she not seen it long ago, before it had gone so 
 far that Mrs. Yorke had spoken to her about it? 
 
 She would go to Mrs. Yorke now, and see if 
 she could not find some sense in this careless, 
 unthinking little mother. Theresa went in dread, 
 for Mrs. Yorke had ever)- right to be angry at the 
 matter to be explained to her : but, perhaps, 
 flippant, lazy, she would not mind, or she would 
 understand. 
 
 She was, however, as usual, inaccessible. The 
 drawing-room was full, for Theresa had happened
 
 UGLY IDOL 191 
 
 to arrive on her ' Day,' and several ladies of Mrs. 
 Yorke's varied acquaintance were gossiping mildly 
 and eating sandwiches. Beside Mrs. Yorke on the 
 sofa sat an old gentleman, a very beautiful old 
 gentleman, and they seemed to Theresa as 
 perfectly matched as a pair of china figures. 
 His silver ringlets jumped with each turning of 
 his head ; when he smiled he displayed excellent 
 white teeth, all the little movements of his shaking 
 hands were very graceful, and a startling youth- 
 fulness sat on his face that made her think that 
 his frailty was due to illness, not age, most 
 certainly not sorrow. Then, as he turned his 
 profile to her, with a wicked smile apropos of 
 some witticism he was about to utter, she noticed 
 a strong resemblance to Gilbert as he used to be, 
 and it flashed upon her that this was Mr. Strode. 
 She looked at him again — he who had such a 
 footstool of a son, who was such a happy man, 
 ah yes ! such a very happy man. She wondered 
 how he came to be here and alone, for she had 
 understood that he was entirely confined to the 
 house and dependent upon his son. 
 
 She went forward to shake hands, and when at 
 last he understood who she was he was charmed 
 to meet her again, and apologised for his deafness. 
 She asked about Gilbert and received only a very 
 vague reply. 
 
 ' I believe they are rather religious, the Tegart- 
 Hoares ? ' asked Mrs. Yorke. 
 
 ' Oh dear me, yes, extremely so ! Had I not 
 better introduce you to them ! ' 

 
 192 UGLY IDOL 
 
 ' Wicked ! you have not forgotten how to be 
 rude yet. But it astonishes me that you should 
 belong to their family now.' 
 
 'They are amusing. Tegart-Hoare is very 
 nice. A very good thing for me, — for me.' 
 
 He beamingly discussed the good points of the 
 family, laughing at them the while, but he forgot 
 their names, and looked blank when Mrs. Yorke 
 recalled reminiscences, and said, 'Ah? Yes?' 
 continually. She watched his flushed, nervous 
 face with anxiety, and almost wished he had not 
 come ; he was so very old, and ill, and yes, a little 
 foolish. 
 
 ' It is just as well that you are in the hands of 
 the Tegart-Hoares,' she said lightly. 'It will 
 give you a chance of saving your soul.' 
 
 ' I lost it long ago,' he answered as flippantly. 
 ' I think you had something to do in the losing of 
 it, eh?' 
 
 ' That sounds dreadful. You know I never 
 did anything wicked in my life.' 
 
 ' Really ? no, no, perhaps not,' he laughed to 
 himself. So they flirted with each other, until 
 Mr. Strode began to show signs of fatigue. He 
 looked about restlessly and put out a feeble hand, 
 and murmured, ' Gilbert.' Then he rose in a 
 sudden hurry and said that he must go, searched 
 for his hat and gloves with a great deal of aim- 
 less fuss, and Mrs. Yorke, considerably frightened, 
 drove him home. She talked to him on the way, 
 and told him, laughing, that he was really getting 
 old, or rather frail, and was it safe for him to go
 
 UGLY IDOL 193 
 
 out so much ? He should stay at home. Then she 
 dropped him at the corner of the street, and went 
 on her way shopping. Gilbert saw him coming, 
 excited, flushed, and bewildered, and went to 
 meet him. 
 
 ' Yes, it is Gilbert,' said Mr. Strode, taking his 
 arm with a sigh of relief. ' Make haste and open 
 the door, boy, don't keep me out in the open air ; 
 I think I have caught cold.' 
 
 So Theresa had found Mrs. Yorke otherwise en- 
 gaged, as usual, and was obliged to go away with- 
 out having said anything. She had heard one of 
 the sandwich-eating persons say, ' Quite delightful 
 for Agatha, isn't it ? Her mother has told me for 
 certain that the marriage will take place in June.' 
 
 ' Nothing is decided,' Theresa had bounced out. 
 1 My brother's health is too unsettled.' 
 
 This was followed by a gentle, ruminative, 
 cud-chewing silence, but when she turned to go 
 away she heard some one say : 
 
 1 Health ! You know that means his mind ; he 
 really is — I have heard it said that he is — very 
 eccentric' 
 
 Theresa went away with these words ringing 
 in her ears, and the worst of it was that they 
 were true. 
 
 Next time Agatha came, as usual, to see Lester, 
 she was met by Theresa, and it seemed to her 
 that the small woman was as indomitable as the 
 guarding dragon in fairy-tales. 
 
 1 No,' Theresa began, ' you cannot see him ' — 
 and there her jaws shut with a click.. She was 
 
 N 

 
 194 UGLY IDOL 
 
 going to have had a long interview with Agatha, 
 to have appealed to her womanly sense, to have 
 shown her — hideous task ! — her brother as he 
 really was. 'Don't you see,' she was going 
 to have cried, ' he is very gentle, very lovable, 
 but he is a genius and — he is odder than he used 
 to be ! He does not love you, he does not want 
 to marry you, it is not right that he should marry 
 you.' She was going to have told all these brutal 
 truths to Agatha, but as soon as she saw the tall, 
 fair, dreamy woman, she realised the futility of 
 it, and she said, 'You cannot see him. 1 And 
 Agatha slowly withdrew. 
 
 • No,' Theresa said to herself, ' she suspects me, 
 she would not believe me.' 
 
 \\ ith a quick brightening of her face, she 
 suddenly jumped lip and went away to put on 
 her hat. She was going to Gilbert ; he was her 
 only friend, her only intimate friend, for, as often 
 happens, in the midst of a large circle she stood 
 alone. With her usual promptitude of action, she 
 went to him the moment she thought of him, 
 quite forgetting, in her hurry, the relations she 
 had supposed to exist between him and Agatha 
 before he married. 
 
 She arrived there and was shown into the 
 drawing-room, and her observant eye mechani- 
 cally took in all its details. 
 
 ' Wife predominates here, evidently. I wonder 
 whether she painted the mantelpiece — not bad. 
 There is not a vestige of Gilbert here — poor 
 Gilbert!' .
 
 UGLY IDOL 195 
 
 A door was opened somewhere, and a dry, 
 precise voice called, ' Ella ! who dusted my room 
 this morning?' 
 
 There was a heavy scuffling of feet, and a 
 breathless person answered, ' Mary, I suppose. 
 Why?' 
 
 ' Did I not leave particular orders that nothing 
 on the writing-table was to be touched ? Now I 
 miss two important letters. You must either get 
 rid of that girl or see that she obeys.' 
 
 ' But, Gilbert, she is a very good servant. I 
 will tell her, but are you sure they aren't on the 
 floor ? ' 
 
 ' Certainly not. I 'vc looked, of course.' 
 
 A little more conversation in the same tone 
 ensued, then the door was shut again and a bell 
 was rung sharply. A moment after, Ella, red 
 and flustered, swung into the drawing-room and 
 apologised for keeping the visitor waiting. 
 
 ' Oh dear ! ' she broke off, ' there 's the cat ! ' and 
 she hastily caught it up, adding, ' My husband 
 does not care for it to be in here,' and disappeared 
 again with the animal in her arms. 
 
 Theresa looked and listened in wonder ; she 
 almost doubted whether it was really Gilbert's 
 house she had entered. When Ella returned, 
 she talked for five minutes on ordinary topics, 
 and decided that she liked Ella. Ella thought 
 Theresa was much nicer than when she had last 
 seen her. 
 
 ' 1 may as well say that I have come to Gilbert/ 
 announced Theresa abruptly, after a pause.
 
 196 UGLY IDOL 
 
 ' Oh ! ' said Ella hesitatingly, ' he is at home. 
 He is obliged to take his holidays now, unfortu- 
 nately, although I think he needs them. He works 
 so hard, you know, and he is far from well just 
 now. Mr. Strode is very weak and frail. I think 
 that partly upsets him. The doctor comes every 
 day, and he told me that he thought he would be 
 the better of a change.' 
 
 Theresa did not pay much attention to the 
 colloquial mixture of pronouns, and Ella stopped, 
 having come to the end of her news. 
 
 ' I will go and look for him,' she said awkwardly. 
 
 'Oh, no,' said Theresa. 'Don't trouble. I'll 
 go,' and she darted away without further ceremony. 
 She knocked at the door she had heard open a 
 while ago. 
 
 ' Well ? ' growled Gilbert. 
 
 'It's me. Make haste and open the door.' 
 
 Ella listened to this in open-mouthed astonish- 
 ment. She herself would not have dared to 
 address him thus in his present humour. Gilbert 
 opened it hastily, and Theresa went in. 
 
 ' Theresa ! ' he exclaimed, a little huskily, 
 extending his hand in welcome. 'How pleased I 
 am to see you ! ' 
 
 She was conscious of a moisture round her eyes, 
 for, from what she had heard of him, she had not 
 expected this effusive welcome, the real joy that 
 lit up his livid face. He put her into the biggest 
 chair, and stirred the fire and looked at her 
 expectantly. 
 
 She felt a sudden reluctance to speaking about
 
 UGLY IDOL 197 
 
 Agatha to him, and he did not look like a man 
 in a position to give comforting advice. Her 
 conclusion that that episode had been one of those 
 things that pass in a man's life began to waver ; 
 perhaps, after all 
 
 ' How many times do you go to church on 
 Sundays now ? ' she asked irrelevantly. 
 
 He understood from this, and her face, that she 
 was greatly annoyed and troubled about some- 
 thing. What ? he wondered nervously. 
 
 1 What is the matter ? Has anything happened ?' 
 
 1 Yes,' said Theresa sadly. 
 
 ' Tell me, what is it ? ' 
 
 1 Don't look so anxious ; it has nothing to do 
 with you, only with me.' 
 
 ' Only with you ? ' 
 
 1 No, no, Gilbert ! I want you to help me.' 
 
 Then all of a sudden she disappeared behind her 
 handkerchief. Gilbert sat before her, his knees 
 drawn together, in the awkward position of a man 
 alone with a woman crying. 
 
 1 I am keeping you waiting,' she said pre- 
 sently. 
 
 ' I will wait as long as ever you like/ he answered 
 gently, but his face belied him. He was terribly 
 anxious. 
 
 ' I know ; that is why I came. But I came to 
 talk business. It is you, Gilbert, who upset me. 
 I am never upset by anything.' 
 
 ' Did you say you wanted me to help you ? 
 You generally help yourself better.' 
 
 ' I will tell you all about it. I don't know what
 
 198 UGLY IDOL 
 
 to do. I have been so blind. I was secure in his 
 simplicity. . . .' She told him the whole situation, 
 and gradually became too absorbed in her own 
 view of the case, her own distress, to notice his 
 silent attention. He sat motionless in his chair, 
 and turned his face from the light. 
 
 1 Her mother is no use, and I cannot do it. She 
 suspects me ; she would not believe me. There 
 is no one ; only I thought that you, who know her 
 so much better ' 
 
 4 I ? Do you know what you are saying ? ' he 
 shouted, leaping from his chair. 
 
 For the first time in her life Theresa was un- 
 sympathetic, selfish, self-absorbed. Her one 
 thought was fear for her brother, and she would 
 leave no stone unturned where he was concerned. 
 She was no longer looking at Gilbert, and it was 
 simply with surprise that she said : 
 
 1 Even you will not be sensible. Will you not 
 help me ? Don't you realise what my brother is 
 to me ? ' 
 
 He sat down again, pushing his chair a little 
 further into his dark corner. ' Go on,' he said. 
 
 ' But, Gilbert, she will listen to you better than 
 to any one. She spoke more to you, and you 
 seemed to understand her better. You know, you 
 were a sort of brother to her.' 
 
 1 Sort of brother ! ' He laughed. Had Theresa 
 quite forgotten, or was she choosing to forget for 
 her own purposes ? 
 
 ' Yes,' he said, seeing that she paused, ' a sort 
 of brother.'
 
 UGLY IDOL 199 
 
 ' When she was a little girl she always went to 
 you.' 
 
 ' That is a long time ago.' 
 
 1 But a hint or two — just a word.' Theresa 
 walked about the room. ' Surely you are not 
 going to treat me like a stranger now, to keep me 
 outside that wall of silence too, Gilbert? Have 
 you no feeling for her, then, that you will not even 
 move a little finger?' 
 
 ' Hush, stop ! I — er — I am thinking.' After a 
 moment he added prosily, ' Why do you not 
 marry them and look after both of them ? ' 
 
 'Impossible! it would lead to all sorts of 
 catastrophes. I have just been explaining that 
 to you. Where are your wits ? You are not 
 helping me much.' 
 
 He thought again in silence. Theresa paused 
 before him and peered into his dark corner. 
 
 ' Gilbert ? ' 
 
 ' But,' he began desperately, ' I never see her. 
 I have not been to the house for yea — months. I 
 could not make an ostensible call and deliver a 
 lecture.' He suddenly laughed ; it was, like 
 everything else, so ridiculous. 
 
 ' Of course not, but I can arrange it. I am 
 going to take Lester down to Nodes. Then I 
 will invite her, then you, and then I will take 
 Lester abroad.' Theresa talked very fast, and 
 the more she thought of it, the more she blamed 
 herself, the more she set her heart on her little 
 plan. 
 
 ' It will be very easily managed then. Oh, how
 
 200 UGLY IDOL 
 
 I blame myself for having been so blind ! It is 
 all my fault ; but perhaps it isn't too late. 
 Gilbert, you will do it, won't you, Gilbert ? ' 
 
 ' Very well,' he said ; ' I will do it' 
 
 1 1 am sorry it should fall on your shoulders. I 
 would have done it myself if I could.' 
 
 1 Oh, it does not matter.' 
 
 Having arranged this, Theresa returned to 
 comparative equanimity, and awoke to his some- 
 what odd behaviour. 
 
 ' Gilbert, I will not press you, — if you have any 
 serious objection,' she hesitated. 
 
 ' No, oh no, I assure you.' 
 
 ' What is the matter? are you going to despatch 
 me with that ? Was your dinner indigestible last 
 night, or what ? ' 
 
 He rose to see her to the door, and taking her 
 hand held it in his for some time, looking down 
 at her the while. 
 
 ' Gilbert, you trouble me dreadfully. You al- 
 ways do what I tell you, but I feel sure this time- 
 that it is something you really do not wish to do. 
 Don't make me feel that I am forcing you — to 
 anything that hurts you.' 
 
 1 No,' he said quickly, dropping her hand. ' No- 
 thing of the kind.' 
 
 She went away feeling that she had not suc- 
 ceeded ; another person's opinion generally helped 
 her to make up her mind her own way, and she 
 came away with the sensation of having beaten 
 herself without effect against a stone wall ; no, 
 not quite a stone wall, but she felt that Gilbert
 
 UGLY IDOL 201 
 
 had become inaccessible even to her. He was 
 the only person to whom she could turn, and he 
 had listened so reluctantly, so coldly, — but no, his 
 manner had not been precisely cold ; he seemed, if 
 anything, overcome with inward emotion. She 
 gave it up ; only she went home with a nameless 
 oppression hanging over her, and she said to 
 herself, ' I know that it will not come right. 
 Something will happen, I feel it in the air — like 
 thunder, yes, distinctly thunder.' 
 
 Gilbert sat down again after Theresa left him ; 
 she did not know how cruel she had been, but he 
 had undertaken to do it. He would go to Agatha 
 and he would say to her, ' You must not love this 
 man, you cannot marry him, he is mad, — or any 
 way he will become so, — he will make you un- 
 happy, and it cannot be allowed.' Ha-ha ! — he, 
 — he would say that to her. And could he trust 
 himself? He had not seen her for so long, he 
 had banished every thought of her from his mind, 
 and she was not an unnaturally beautiful creature 
 of dreams to him, was she ? He looked forward 
 to a nice long honourable life at the office, with 
 his wife at his side, did he not ? Oh yes, he 
 was a cold, prim person, who could be trusted 
 with this paternal duty, and he must help poor 
 Theresa ; it is very nice to have confidence reposed 
 in one, particularly by such a managing general 
 as Theresa. 
 
 He could trust himself, his emotions never 
 gained the upper hand of him — one — two — Agatha 
 — no, never ! Her actual presence would not
 
 202 UGLY IDOL 
 
 awaken or rouse this strange turmoil that sent 
 the blood throbbing in the veins in his temples ! 
 Did he love her, or was it only all his bitterness, 
 his disgust with life, his perverted energies, his 
 broken, miserable, hated life? 
 
 ' Gilbert ! Gilbert ! ' cried Ella, knocking at the 
 door. lie flung it open. 
 
 ' Dinner. The gong has gone three times. I 
 am sorry we are so late, but Mrs. Weir Brighton 
 was here and kept me talking. I Icr daughter is 
 going out to the Zenana Mission ; I am sure she 
 is very brave.' 
 
 After a while Ella went on : ' Do take more 
 soup, Gilbert ; it is one of Shaw's invention, and 
 I think it is very good for you.' 
 
 ' It is very good, my dear,' he answered plea- 
 santly. ' You are the best housekeeper any one 
 could have, Ella, and you have the art of 
 looking as if no responsibility rested on your 
 shoulders.' 
 
 She smiled well pleased, and never thought of 
 telling him the amount of anxious consideration 
 his habits and idiosyncrasies cost her. She never 
 had pointed them out to him, or only in such a 
 way that he mistook it for feminine grumbling. 
 
 1 Oh, by-the-by, the doctor said he would 
 come again to-night, he said your father was not 
 so well to-day. And Air. Strode was calling for 
 you this afternoon, and when I went to tell him 
 you were busy, he was quite upset. I wish he 
 had not taken such a dislike to me.' 
 
 'Yes, it is unfortunate, but you should have 

 
 UGLY IDOL 203 
 
 sent a message by Martha. You know he is not 
 to be irritated.' 
 
 Both relapsed into silence, and the moment the 
 meal was over Gilbert hurried upstairs, and Ella 
 sat down alone in the drawing-room. She felt 
 lonely, for it had not been Gilbert's habit lately to 
 leave her in the evening ; he seemed to seek her 
 company, and the restless eagerness would die 
 from his eyes when he sat beside her. ' Read to 
 me, Ella,' he would say, and he had gradually 
 educated her to read and appreciate books that 
 formerly had been Hebrew to her. The simple 
 pieces that she only played for her own satis- 
 faction, he listened to with evident pleasure, and 
 would have none of her sonatas ; and her placid 
 flow of commonplace conversation sent him to 
 sleep, for which she was glad. True, he came 
 down in the morning something hot, in a hurry 
 and a state of frigid fuss that upset the household. 
 But all men are like that, you know, especially 
 when they are going to the office. 
 
 Gilbert went upstairs quickly. This nightly 
 visit was a painful business, more especially since 
 his father had come home that day, chilled and 
 angry. A terrible dread clutched at his heart 
 every time that he turned the handle of the door. 
 It followed him always, it told him that his father 
 was growing frailer, much frailer, every day. He 
 paused now in the passage to compose his features 
 and to smile before he entered. He looked round 
 the room and thought that surely nothing was 
 wanting here, nothing absent that would help to
 
 204 UGLY IDOL 
 
 retain this precious life and preserve it. Surely 
 this would be left him ; it was not possible that 
 this should be taken from him. 
 
 His father was sitting as usual in his big chair 
 by the fire amusing himself with chessmen on a 
 board, for his eyesight no longer permitted him 
 to read or write. 
 
 ' How are you to-night ? ' said Gilbert, crossing 
 the room. 
 
 ' All right, all right, my boy. You are late: you 
 leave me very much alone ; why didn't you come 
 sooner ? ' 
 
 ' I will come as early as you like to-morrow. 
 I think the doctor is coming again to-night.' 
 
 ' Who, who? Speak more distinctly.' 
 
 ' The doctor, — you know, — the nice fellow who 
 brought the chessmen. You like him, don't 
 you ? ' 
 
 ' Yes, very nice man, but he thinks I 'm ill. 
 Now I am as well as possible.' He shook his 
 curls, and laughed cunningly. 
 
 1 Never mind, he has plenty to talk about, and 
 these little mistakes don't matter.' 
 
 ' No. — What 's-her-name ! Tuts, forget people's 
 names now. Martha, what 's-her-name? ' 
 
 ' Ella,' said Martha quickly. 
 
 ' Yes, of course, E-Ella was here this afternoon. 
 I wish you would keep her away, why do you let 
 her come? ' 
 
 ' It shall not happen again ; but she cannot do 
 you an)- harm, I am always there.' 
 
 Mr. Strode fingered a pawn abscntly.and glanced
 
 UGLY IDOL 205 
 
 about him, evidently trying to catch some thought 
 that evaded his memory. 
 
 1 Ah yes ! Clothilde, — no,' he shook his head 
 testily ; this name invariably angered him. 
 
 ' Mrs. Yorke, Mrs. Yorke ' 
 
 ' Yes ? ' said Gilbert anxiously. She had come 
 to visit his father once since he had been confined 
 entirely to the house. She had stayed five 
 minutes, and had descended in a flurry, had 
 admired the drawing-room and had made several 
 useful suggestions to Ella. 
 
 ' She was here — she was extremely rude, — she 
 said I was old and ill, — she laughed — and some- 
 thing about being bothered by decrepit, old — 
 what was it ? She used to admire me ; she is not 
 old, I am not old.' His face flushed, and he leant 
 forward in his chair with the vague troubled look 
 in his eyes that smote the heart of his son. 
 
 Gilbert took his hand. ' Look,' he said. ' Don't 
 think about her, she is not worth it ; if she 
 doesn't admire you — well, it doesn't matter, she is 
 silly. I will not let her come here again. You 
 have me, you know.' 
 
 The wandering fingers closed over his hand. 
 ' Yes,' murmured his father, ' you are here.' 
 
 There was a moment's silence ; Gilbert did not 
 move, and Martha coughed the awful cough that 
 comes on old people sometimes. 
 
 'What is the king doing over here — a problem?' 
 
 Mr. Strode laughed merrily, and began to show 
 his son how the king came there. He had been 
 teaching Martha to play, and she was so stupid ;
 
 206 UGLY IDOL 
 
 then she had read him a detective story, and he 
 placed the men to show her how it worked. 
 
 ' See,' he said with interest. ' This was the 
 fellow that committed the murder, that bishop 
 over there the one that stole the ring — no, was it ? 
 Martha, read the story again. Now read distinctly, 
 I can't hear you ; read distinctly, I tell you ! ' 
 
 Martha approached the book to the lamp, and 
 peered at it through her worn old eyes, eyes worn 
 in the service of this most charming master. 
 Mr. Strode, with a happy smile, placed the chess- 
 men as the story unfolded, and Gilbert knelt 
 beside him, very interested also, giving furtive 
 knocks to the obstinate pawns that his father's 
 shaking fingers could not move properly. 
 
 In the midst of this, Martha remembered that 
 it was time for Mr. Strode's medicine, and Gilbert 
 rose to put it out. 
 
 ' Don't go away ; come here, — the things are all 
 falling.' 
 
 ' Yes, — just one moment.' 
 
 ' Will you come here ? You have knocked 
 them all over. I wish you would do as I tell 
 you.' 
 
 ' No, see, I am here,' said Gilbert, putting the 
 glass down before him. 
 
 1 What 's that ! I don't want it, take it away. 
 You have upset them, and all my work is undone. 
 Careless, thoughtless, selfish, — always were.' 
 
 ' I will pick them up ; I know where they were. 
 Let us get this glass out of the way first ; it is 
 only a mouthful.'
 
 UGLY IDOL 207 
 
 ' Do you take me for a child, damn you ? You, 
 and the doctor — and her — you 're in a conspiracy 
 against me ; you want to poison me, I know you 
 do. Take it away at once, at once.' 
 
 « Father ! ' 
 
 1 Don't shout at me ; I am not stone-deaf yet, 
 either — take the thing away at once ; you want 
 to poison me, I know you do ; you tried the other 
 day when I was ill. You want to keep me shut 
 
 up, you want to make people believe I'm — I'm 
 
 Leave go ! Martha ! Martha ! make him leave go.' 
 
 Gilbert was obliged to retreat, while Martha 
 soothed her patient. But he could not make up 
 his mind to go away ; he would wait till the 
 mood was past, till the smile was back again ; it 
 would come very soon. But he could not be 
 long with his father now without this happening ; 
 always, always his visits ended in his going away, 
 sad, outcast, while Martha calmed her enraged 
 master. Did he really distrust his son ? It 
 seemed so like it that Gilbert could not take it 
 philosophically, and say to himself, ' He does not 
 mean it ; he does not know what he is saying.' 
 And at other times his father showed such an 
 open love of him ; the wandering fingers closed 
 over his hand, ' Yes, you are here.' 
 
 This love was all he had, — all, all. 
 
 I You had better go away, Mr. Gilbert' 
 ' No, I will wait here and see.' 
 
 ' You must go just now, Mr. Gilbert' 
 
 I I shall stay in this corner.' 
 ' Houts ! ' said Martha.
 
 208 UGLY IDOL 
 
 1 Keep an eye on him,' went on Mr. Strode. 
 1 He has evil intentions ; I 've seen it, over and 
 over again. They keep me shut up. He makes 
 people say nasty things to me ; he forgets who I 
 am, and that I've done everything for him. He 
 was always untrustworthy.' 
 
 1 No, no, — listen, — I am your son, you know. I 
 am your son. Look at me, you trust me ; we 
 were doing the chess a little while ago, don't you 
 remember? Yes, you know me, — say that you 
 know me, — Gilbert, Gilbert, you love Gilbert ! 
 He always does everything for you.' 
 
 The smile, that particular smile did not come 
 back. ' Take him away ! ' shrieked his father, 
 recoiling from him, and turning helplessly to 
 Martha. ' He is trying to catch hold of me, — save 
 me ! You will repent treating your poor old 
 father like this some day, sir, when I am gone. 
 It is you who made me ill ; I won't have it, do you 
 hear? Put him out — lock the door, I won't have 
 him in here again.' 
 
 Gilbert went. He went down to his study, and 
 walked about there through an endless night. He 
 told himself that his father did not know what he 
 said ; yes, but that did not alter it. A little 
 while ago these tempests had been brief; they 
 had passed away, and his father had looked at 
 him, looked at him so confidently, — they gave 
 him something to live for, to think of always, to 
 care for, those eyes. Ah ! they were very much 
 to him, these loving, following, watching eyes 
 ' Yes,' his father would say, ' I have you, my boy.'
 
 UGLY IDOL 209 
 
 And now they were very seldom there, more often 
 they were doubting, mistrusting, and afraid ; oh ! 
 that was it, they were afraid, and they only grew 
 the more frightened the more he tried to soothe 
 and explain. ' It is I ! ' he cried to them, and 
 they made no response ; they were frightened — of 
 him. 
 
 The night was very dark. Just as well perhaps 
 that the night was dark ; one does not want the 
 eye of light to penetrate this darkness, no ! — no ! 
 
 In the cold greyness of early morning Gilbert 
 crept upstairs ; at the hour when some things die 
 and others sleep, and the shadow of another world 
 lies coldly on the face of things, when no shadow 
 is black, or no light white, and all is grey. . . . 
 
 He paused outside his father's door ; probably 
 he slept, or he might be awake — he was sometimes 
 at this hour, but — he turned the handle softly and 
 went in, longing for a look from the eyes that 
 loved him. 
 
 Gilbert stood at the end of the bed ; no, his 
 father was asleep, and Gilbert looked at him. 
 
 Mr. Strode lay with his face to the light, this 
 beautiful face with its white hair about it, the happy, 
 pleased smile on its lips. No anger, no mistrust, 
 but only this happy, happy smile. As Gilbert 
 looked, there came back to him very vividly the 
 radiant father who lay in the sunshine at Cam- 
 pagne Saleve long ago ; it seemed to his fancy, 
 his very kindly fancy, that he of the golden beard, 
 the god-like beauty, lay there ; he heard the 
 ringing laugh again, and the light shone on the 
 
 O
 
 2io UGLY IDOL 
 
 bright hair of the great, grand, adored father. 
 Ah! all! clicr petit pcre adore" ! Yes, it seemed 
 to Gilbert that, after all, his father had not 
 changed much. 
 
 He looked at the face again and his eyes 
 widened, and he stretched forth a timid, feeling 
 hand. 
 
 ' Father ! ' 
 
 He fell across the bed with a big cry. 
 
 And Mr. Strode lay peacefully with his face 
 turned to the light, and on his lips his most 
 radiant smile. 
 
 This was at the hour when the shadow of 
 another world lies coldly on the face of things, 
 and all is grey. . . .
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 Theresa went to meet Gilbert at the station. 
 He had written her a short letter thanking her 
 for the flowers she had sent, and giving her the 
 date of his departure and the train by which he 
 would arrive. She thought of writing to him, 
 and then concluded that she would not deluge 
 him with correspondence ; only she hoped that he 
 had forgotten Agatha, and would not remember 
 the part she had asked him to play. Perhaps 
 she could do it better herself; she would take an 
 afternoon, and in a gentle conversation she would 
 open Agatha's eyes. What could be simpler ? But, 
 on the contrary, she found that it grew more 
 difficult, for Lester continued to seek Agatha's 
 society ; he wanted her always beside him, to sing 
 to him, and follow him when he idled in the 
 garden, or, on a warmer day, to go out with him 
 in the boat. Yet also, as ever, he turned to 
 Theresa for all his wants. ' Theresa ! Theresa ! ' 
 was heard through the house as often as before. 
 
 Mrs. Yorke was there, ill, completely upset, and 
 she wondered if they could not put the marriage 
 off for a month or two. ' That he should have 
 gone and died now,' she murmured crossly. 
 
 As Theresa stood, waiting for the train, on the 
 
 211
 
 212 UGLY IDOL 
 
 empty platform, something forlorn about the 
 sleepy little station struck her. She remembered 
 the many times she and Lester had come and 
 gone, and she idly wondered what would have 
 happened before they left again. 
 
 The train drew up ; one door only opened, and 
 a dog jumped out. Marcus Aurelius approached 
 with inquisitive nose advanced, but he and 
 Adolphus belonged to different families now, and 
 growled a little to remind each other that they had 
 people under their charge. Gilbert followed his 
 dog, and then Ella came with a bundle of wraps 
 and went away at once to look after the luggage. 
 
 ' Ah, you have come to meet us, that is very 
 kind of you. How delightful the air is here after 
 London ! And the train was crammed, unfortun- 
 ately,' Gilbert began, somewhat absently. He 
 looked tired — his raised eyebrows, his eyes particu- 
 larly, looked tired, — and being an unusually pale- 
 complexioned man, the red on his cheeks did not 
 become him. 
 
 When Ella came up, Theresa admired her ; 
 she was big, perhaps, but she had a commanding 
 presence that carried off her bigness, and she was 
 less stout than she used to be ; she had lost her 
 vivid colour, and there was an expression on her 
 face which was not all teeth. 
 
 ' How do you do ? — Yes, the luggage is all right. 
 I think you had better get in ; the air is cold after 
 that hot compartment.' 
 
 She packed her husband and the bundle into 
 the carriage, saying to Theresa that the long legs
 
 UGLY IDOL 213 
 
 of the one and the stick-handles of the other re- 
 quired a certain amount of manoeuvring. Gilbert 
 seemed to have changed since Theresa heard him 
 say, ' Who dusted my room this morning ? ' 
 
 Gilbert sat forward and watched the country 
 unfurl on either side of him ; little green leaves 
 were bursting forth from silver sheaths on all the 
 trees ; round, fat purple hedges were beaded with 
 red-nosed buds, and all the brown earth was 
 green-shadowed with the tiny blades that pushed 
 busily up into the sunshine. Gulls from the sea 
 hovered over the fields, and the sun lay low, cast- 
 ing long shadows of trees across the road. The 
 air was full of the chatter of birds ; rooks cawed, 
 tits twittered, and the sparrows quarrelled. Oh, 
 everything was so young, growing, green, and all 
 the world was gay. . . . 
 
 He leant back in his corner, and took off his 
 glasses. 
 
 ■ I am afraid you are tired. We shall soon be 
 there now. There 's the sea.' 
 
 ' Oh no, only the sun is a little bright on this 
 white road,' and he did not wish to look at the 
 blue, dancing sea. 
 
 No one was in the drawing-room when they 
 arrived, for Mrs. Yorke declared that she could 
 not possibly face Gilbert. 
 
 ' Death, so close to one, upsets me dreadfully, 
 I am quite shaken. And hardly a month ago he 
 was talking away in my drawing-room, and per- 
 haps I wasn't quite kind — well, I wasn't thinking. 
 People with recent losses are always horrid ' ; and
 
 214 UGLY IDOL 
 
 so the minute she heard the carriage wheels she 
 retired to her own room, to wait, any way, till the 
 ice was broken. ■ Yes, I am old, I am old,' she 
 cried to herself, and looked in the glass. ' Any 
 way, I must put on that pale grey thing to-night. 
 It is a toning colour.' 
 
 Ella had not disliked Theresa the first time she 
 saw her, and now she thought her a nice person, — 
 particularly, too, as there were no people in green 
 plush garments of odd manufacture about her. 
 
 ' You know,' Theresa said to her, ' Gilbert is 
 quite at home here, and I hope you will be so also. 
 He needs you to look after him, and you must 
 do that just as if you were at home. No one 
 stands on ceremony here.' 
 
 Ella found this to be true. At first she was 
 perplexed, but when she saw that they all did 
 as they liked, came and went or stayed, accord- 
 ing to their inclinations, she found the freedom 
 very enjoyable. The drawing-room, all the rooms, 
 were homely, and the furniture, worn to the d< 
 of comfort attained by old boots and shoes, 
 was mended and patched, and faded and repose- 
 ful. It was particularly inviting on the day that 
 they arrived : the sun shone in at the three draw- 
 ing-room windows that looked over the sea ; a 
 group of deep, dosing chairs were gathered round 
 the fire, and a little tea-table stood ready there. It 
 was, to townspeople, ' the country,' peaceful, simple, 
 beautiful ; where one lies under trees and dreams, 
 and is so happy — oh ! so very happy — and where 
 the tragedy of life is the crumpling of a rose petal.
 
 UGLY IDOL 215 
 
 1 How nice it is here ! ' said Ella, while Theresa 
 poured out tea. 
 
 1 Yes, it is growing old with us, and fits round 
 our bumps and projections.' But Theresa looked 
 about sadly as she spoke ; the place was old, 
 worn-out — yes, she felt it, worn-out : trouble had 
 entered into it, and the charm was gone. The sun 
 shone in at the windows, and made obvious the 
 patches. 
 
 Gilbert sat in one of the deepest chairs, trem- 
 bling at every sound in the house, fearing that 
 Agatha would come into the room at any moment. 
 Of course she would come into the room, as she 
 had come years and years ago, wasn't it, into 
 the studio ; she would swish past and look at 
 another — how she would look at another ! He 
 felt a dream-like sensation stealing over him, and 
 he watched Ella with vague eyes ; she was re- 
 ceding into the background, into the unheeded 
 surroundings, whence she had emerged last year, 
 was it ? — and the image that was reality to him 
 grew larger, and brighter. It was the last thing 
 left him, this image, and even to that he had 
 no right — yes, yes, the image was his, all his, 
 perhaps it was no longer quite Agatha — or it 
 would be wholly Agatha, only when she was 
 there. . . . 
 
 Let us jewel the eyes of our idol. 
 
 No ; he shook himself and opened his eyes, he 
 was dreaming — nonsense, as usual, and he became 
 conscious of a murmur of conversation. 
 
 1 Don't make a noise, you will waken him.'
 
 216 UGLY IDOL 
 
 ' I ? ' he said, ' I am not asleep,' and then he 
 knew very well that Agatha was there, appearing 
 — as he had often seen her before, with the failing 
 light, the greyness of dusk about her — fair, mys- 
 terious, and very remote. She came towards him, 
 and sat down beside him, after having been intro- 
 duced to Ella. 
 
 ' I have heard all about it,' she said gently ; 
 • Theresa told me.' Then, after a moment's pause, 
 she went on to say that she had not seen him for 
 such a long time, and that she had missed him. 
 She was very sorry that he looked so ill, but the 
 air here would surely do him good. 'Lester,' she 
 said happily and simply, 'improved noticeably in 
 a week ; did he not, Theresa? ' 
 
 ' Yes,' Ella and Gilbert answered simultane- 
 ously, 'the air was delightful.' 
 
 'It is nearly dinner-time,' said Theresa, after a 
 pause, beginning to be anxious about her brother's 
 absence. ' Play us one of those old-fashioned airs 
 your mother taught you, Agatha.' 
 
 Agatha began an air that was well known to 
 two of her listeners ; long ago Mrs. Yorke had 
 played it at the Campagne Saleve, and the sound 
 of it had come through the open door to the 
 children in the garden. ' Listen ! that is the 
 flowers crying because they have to go to bed. 
 Look, the daisy has curled up all its eyelashes,' 
 Gilbert had said, dreamily lying, as usual, on the 
 overhanging bank of the Arne. 
 
 The tune agitated Gilbert now: it thrilled 
 through him ; it played upon every fibre; it recalled
 
 UGLY IDOL 217 
 
 to him every emotion, every feeling of joy or 
 sorrow that this woman had caused him. The 
 notes mocked him, they jeered, they were cruel, 
 they were vicious. ' Here we are again,' they said, 
 with a hideous laugh in them. ' A little changed, 
 eh ! Oh, we are not done with you — we will 
 excite you, work upon you, tear you to pieces. 
 We will remind you of your father ; he is not here 
 now ; where is he? Nothing is here — for you — only 
 us; listen well, and feel our cutting pain, this is the 
 last time you will hear us. Ohe ! — what mischief 
 we are doing ! we will tear you to pieces ; we will 
 madden you, poor unfortunate ! who were foolish 
 enough to come under our spell. Listen, listen, 
 it is the last time you will hear us — the last — 
 time,' sang the concluding chords. 
 
 Gilbert rose abruptly from his chair, and left 
 the room. He went out, out into the garden, and 
 felt the cool evening air about him, and heard it 
 whisper among the leaves. Down below was a 
 wide expanse of shimmering sea ; subtle, silent, 
 peaceful water, hiding the danger of the quick- 
 sands under a gentle face. 
 
 1 Dear little tune,' Gilbert whispered to himself, 
 • that sings to me " a last time." Is there a last 
 time? It goes on and on, always on, but — a last 
 time — yes, I will make it a last time.' 
 
 ' Gilbert ! ' 
 
 He turned. His wife had followed him, and 
 she said that it was too cold to stay out. He 
 loved her well ; she was always the same, and her 
 presence was soothing. He turned to her for
 
 2i8 UGLY IDOL 
 
 almost everything, and she was always ready to 
 do whatever he asked, with a calmness that made 
 all things seem easy and natural. She no longer 
 irritated him, either, by an uncomprehending 
 stare. 
 
 ' The sea is lovely to-night/ he said, taking her 
 arm. 
 
 'Yes. I would like to stay out; but I think 
 we should go in. It is so restful, isn't it?' By 
 that she meant that she hoped he found it so. 
 
 'Yes,' he said smiling, 'very restful. . . . You 
 are not sorry you came now, Ella?' 
 
 • No, — oh no.' 
 
 At first neither Ella nor Mrs. Tegart-Hoare had 
 been anxious for Gilbert to go amongst 'them.' 
 
 ' Gilbert wishes to take Ella to that Miss — 
 I don't remember the name. Of course, one does 
 not wish to cross the dear boy ; but I really do 
 not think she is a person I should like Ella to 
 be intimate with.' 
 
 ' Well, he can go alone,' said Marmadukc ; 
 but Gilbert had told his wife that he could not go 
 without her; he had become accustomed to her, 
 and had grown dependent upon her lately, and 
 besides, — oh yes, she must go.' 
 
 ' Don't interfere with the poor dear fellow now,' 
 went on Marmaduke. ' I know Miss Schelless, 
 and I prefer her infinitely to Lady Ulith.' 
 
 ' Really ! Well, if that is the case.' 
 
 ' Yes, I assure you, my dear Emma,' he added, 
 without qualifying his remark or giving reasons. 
 
 So Ella went to her husband, and told him
 
 UGLY IDOL 219 
 
 that her mother permitted them to go, under the 
 circumstances. 
 
 ' Permit! ' said Gilbert. ' Well, well, never mind.' 
 
 And Ella found ' them ' much nicer than she 
 expected. She did not know, of course, that 
 Theresa was unnaturally silent and sober, and 
 did not understand her when she said one day, 
 ' I am ageing, and my wits are falling out like 
 teeth.' 
 
 Mrs. Yorke, delicate, fragile, was a person who 
 moved Ella's instinct to help, and one generally 
 encountered her carrying some of the shawls and 
 baskets of this indolent lady. Mrs. Yorke was 
 delighted to have some one always there to whom 
 she could chatter. Theresa gardened as assidu- 
 ously as ever, but with vacant eyes, and without 
 any pleasure, only she found a little amusement 
 in teaching Ella the names of plants and the art 
 of raking. 
 
 ' You are one of these people that keep others 
 from going quite mad,' she said. 
 
 Gilbert told Ella that Lester was a great 
 genius, and this astonished her much, — he was so 
 gentle, so unobtrusive, so completely in the back- 
 ground. 
 
 ' Background ! ' repeated Gilbert. She did not 
 know why. 
 
 He had sought her out in the garden, looking 
 more than ordinarily tired and flushed, and had 
 dropped down on the ground beside her. She, 
 quite certain that the ground was damp, had 
 pillowed his head upon her skirts.
 
 220 UGLY IDOL 
 
 ' He and Miss Yorke are engaged, aren't they ? ' 
 
 « Yes.' 
 
 1 1 thought so ; engaged people are generally 
 invisible, and they are always together.' 
 
 1 Always.' 
 
 ' But I think she looks very happy.' 
 
 1 Yes. Oh, by-the-by, I must have left my 
 ' and he got up and went into the house. 
 
 Lester's study was in a corridor that was shut 
 off from the rest of the house by a baize door, 
 and it was there that he spent most of his time. 
 Gilbert was passing down the passage when he 
 heard voices, and paused. It was Lester, not in 
 the study, but in Theresa's little piggery next 
 door to it. 
 
 ' I will make her ! ' he was not speaking loud, 
 but his voice was very distinct, and the sound of 
 it bound Gilbert to the spot. 
 
 ' She has defied me — she has done it before — 
 she, it is she who prevents me — she has done it 
 always — always, and I will make her obey me,' 
 and then it sank to a hissing whisper. 
 
 ' Lester, dear, she is asleep. Wait till she wakes.' 
 
 ' No, — she is doing it on purpose, — she has 
 done it before, — leave go, — I must make her, — 
 leave go.' 
 
 Gilbert drew nearer, and saw through the door 
 Lester, struggling to free himself from Theresa's 
 grasp, his eyes glistening with anger, — perhaps it 
 was anger. On the sofa Agatha lay asleep. 
 
 ' Leave go,' Lester whispered, his eyes fixed
 
 UGLY IDOL 221 
 
 upon Agatha. ' Why do you hold me ? Why do 
 you not help me ? Theresa, help me,' and with a 
 sudden jerk he freed his arm, and ran towards the 
 sofa. Theresa, helpless, was about to waken 
 Agatha that she might save herself, when Gilbert 
 darted past her, seized the little man in his arms, 
 and carried him off to the study. Agatha still 
 slept. Theresa closed the door of the room behind 
 her softly. She clasped her hands in doubt and 
 agony, looking to Gilbert for sympathy and to 
 share her trouble ; but he came out of the study 
 supporting himself by the wall, and she gazed at 
 his face at first in vague amazement. 
 
 ' Has he been like that before ? Why do you 
 let him go near her? He will kill her. He will kill 
 her ! ' His cheeks were red, and that hot bar 
 streaked his forehead : she had not thought it 
 possible that he could look so angry, so terribly 
 angry. 
 
 ' But, Gilbert, do you accuse me, — you ?' moaned 
 Theresa in her loneliness. ' He has been excited, 
 of course, nothing more. He has never been like 
 that — he is as sane as you or 1/ she added fiercely; 
 and then she cried, ' What am I to do, what am I 
 to do ? ' 
 
 Gilbert did not speak ; he leant against the 
 wall for support, and she realised again the girdle 
 of silence that bound him about. 
 
 1 1 am talking nonsense, — it is not safe, — I must 
 do something at once ; but oh, I assure you, he 
 means nothing by it, it is only the excitement 
 that takes him when he has worked too hard.
 
 222 UGLY IDOL 
 
 You know, he is so gentle, he would never hurt 
 a fly — meaningly.' 
 
 ' I will try to let her see — to make her under- 
 stand — now, to-morrow, sometime soon, yes, it 
 must be sometime soon,' Gilbert said at last. 
 
 Theresa took his hand in silent thanks. ' God 
 grant that you will be successful,' was all she said. 
 
 Gilbert hesitated a moment ; he would like to 
 have said to her brutally, ' I am not doing it for 
 your sake ' ; but he turned and went away in 
 silence. 
 
 Out in the garden, under the shade of the trees, 
 Ella was sitting, his peaceful, placid wife. lie 
 went to her with a longing for her soothing, 
 calming company, loving her unconsciously, and 
 without passion. 
 
 ' Let us go for a walk,' he said hurriedly. ' Let 
 us get away. Are you read)'?' 
 
 ' Yes,' she answered at once, noticing his nervous 
 fidgeting. 
 
 ' Dolphus ! ' she called, and their dog ran to 
 them, leaping and bounding at the prospect of a 
 run. 
 
 Ordinarily, when they went out they dawdled, 
 picking flowers and ferns, and Gilbert told his 
 wife about the insect life of the woods — the snails, 
 the butterflies, the mask-like wood-lice that he 
 remembered at Campagne Saleve. But to-day 
 he paced along so fast, that after a while she was 
 obliged to stop him. 
 
 1 Gilbert, remember that we have to go back, 
 dear. Let us sit here and rest a moment.'
 
 UGLY IDOL 223 
 
 ' I am tiring you ; why did you not say so 
 before?' He flung himself down on the dry 
 grass, and Dolphus immediately rollicked towards 
 him, and sat on the top of him. Warm, silky, 
 loving dog ! The sun was warm too ; everything 
 was about him that makes life pleasant. 
 
 'Ella,' he said suddenly. 'You have not the 
 faintest idea how good you are.' 
 
 She smiled indulgently at him. 
 
 ' How can you put up with me ? You never 
 complain, lately you have never complained, and 
 I — you ought to.' 
 
 1 Why ? ' she said simply. ' I love you, and I 
 am your wife.' 
 
 ' I wish,' he went on after a pause, with a sudden 
 unreasoning anger, ' 1 wish you were not so 
 grandly simple! It makes me feel — 'as usual, he 
 relapsed into silence, and did not say aloud what 
 he thought. 
 
 ' I am afraid,' said Ella, not attempting to 
 understand him, ' that the air here does not agree 
 with you.' 
 
 At that he laughed, and she wished that he 
 would not laugh — that way. 
 
 1 No, perhaps not . . . but it doesn't matter. 
 It 's not for long.' 
 
 ' No, only another week, and I am sure you 
 would be better quite abroad.' 
 
 ' Yes.' 
 
 They turned to go back, and they saw from 
 afar the little brown house, nestling among its 
 trees.
 
 224 UGLY IDOL 
 
 1 One couldn't find a quieter, prettier place,' said 
 Ella. 
 
 Agatha was sitting in there alone ; Gilbert 
 could see her through the window. He paused 
 to look, and looked so long, that, becoming con- 
 scious of his gaze, she raised her eyes. 
 
 'Oh,' he said hastily, 'I was just passing by,' 
 and he stayed. 
 
 ' I promised Theresa,' he told himself, ' I am 
 only here for that purpose — that is all,' and he 
 walked in at the window. 
 
 1 Another lovely day,' he began, and talked 
 pleasantly about the weather. He walked about 
 the room while he spoke, and looked out at the 
 bright, sunny garden beyond. How long would 
 it be before he was out there again ? Not until 
 he had deliberately infused his gentle little poison, 
 until he had destroyed her sublime happiness. 
 He would make her know what it was to suffer ; 
 she too should feel the anguish of it ; he laughed, 
 and he sat down beside her. 
 
 ' What is this ? ' he asked, taking up a sketch 
 that lay on the table close by. 'Is it yours ? ' 
 
 ' Oh no, it is an old, old sketch of Lester's. 
 Look at the date, he can only have been twelve.' 
 
 ' I never heard of his painting then.' 
 
 ' No, we never heard anything of him.' 
 
 ' He always was peculiar.' 
 
 ' No one ever understood him.' 
 
 1 No, no one does, and that is why he makes 
 those around him so unhappy.'
 
 UGLY IDOL 225 
 
 He was coming along very gently, and she 
 helped him. He clutched the arms of his chair ; 
 why, after all, should he talk to her of Lester ? — 
 what had Lester to do with him ? Nothing, 
 nothing ! Why was she not looking at him, and 
 why was she so little disturbed ? And was she not 
 more exquisitely beautiful than ever she had been? 
 
 1 Yes,' he said viciously. ' He is a great genius, 
 but he has not any of the ordinary feelings of 
 man. He is quite devoid of — all things outside 
 his talent' 
 
 He waited ; but she did not even think it 
 worth her while to disagree. Did she understand ? 
 Why would she not look at him ? Were his 
 words in her ears so insignificant ? 
 
 'You know,' he said, leaning forward, 'Theresa 
 — the doctors — fear for his brain.' 
 
 Now at last she looked at him, and yes, oh 
 yes, she was beginning to understand. But how 
 she looked at him ! with what a superb anger — 
 no, an unbelief! 
 
 ' I love him,' she said. 
 
 Gilbert leant still further forward, a hideous 
 grin clutching at the corners of his mouth, and he 
 put out a hand to touch her. 
 
 'He is mad,' he muttered slowly, distinctly. 
 
 'And he has tried to kill ' She withdrew 
 
 from him, glancing at him with a cold dislike. 
 Oh, why did she look at him like that ? ' Agatha ! 
 Agatha! oh, believe me, I am telling you the 
 truth — you are mistaken — he is not worthy of 
 
 you, — do not think of him, for he is ' 
 
 P
 
 226 UGLY IDOL 
 
 Agatha sat still, amazed. 'Has she no feeling ? ' 
 he thought desperately. 
 
 ' O great God ! ' he cried to her. ' He is a 
 monster, he is mad — mad ! — he does not love 
 you ! ' 
 
 He took her hand tightly in his ; his flushed 
 face quivered, and his great eyes glared at her. 
 
 ' Yes ! ' he shouted. ' I — / love you — oh ! ' and 
 he remained with his mouth open, his tongue 
 clacking against his teeth. 
 
 She wrenched her hand from him and stood 
 up ; her nostrils dilated, and her paleness grew 
 more intense, even that light hair seemed to turn 
 grey, 
 
 You?' she said. He told her that Lester was 
 a monster, this man, and he had left his wife and 
 come to her, knelt before her, and told her that 
 he loved her. — ' You?* she said. 
 
 Gilbert looked up at her, and gradually he 
 realised what he had done, and he laughed a little. 
 
 • Yes.' he answered, looking at her still. ' I ! ' 
 
 ' You said that Lester does not know what he 
 is doing, — you say he does not love me, and you 
 lie, you lie! You dare to tell me that you love 
 me. — you come to insult me, You /' 
 
 Gilbert grovelled under this 'You/' Never, 
 never had he conceived anything like it — the 
 utter scorn, the deep, cutting, killing scorn of it. 
 
 She stood another moment before him, swaying 
 a little, looking beyond him. 
 
 ' Lester ! I will ask him, — he who is so pure, so 
 exalted above the world and its littleness. I
 
 UGLY IDOL 227 
 
 will ask him.' She turned away with a confident 
 smile. 'And I know, — oh, I know what he will 
 say. You abuse him because he is so infinitely 
 above you, — no, you cannot understand, — you do 
 not know the greatness of him ; he loves me as 
 you cannot understand. But I will ask him.' 
 
 She went away, and Gilbert knelt on the ground 
 where she left him. Suddenly he realised that 
 he was alone, and that she had gone. . . . He 
 rose, and he walked out through the window ; 
 yes, he was going out at the window into the 
 bright, sunny garden beyond. Ella saw him go, 
 and wondered that he did not call her as usual. 
 But he passed out through the gate alone. 
 
 In the afternoon he was coming back along the 
 edge of the cliffs, and he looked out over the wide 
 expanse of glittering blue sea that was tickled by 
 the vigorous breeze into little rippling waves that 
 sent a chequered network of dancing light over 
 the face of it. Blue was the sea, tossing up frills 
 of white foam round the rocks ; chattering and 
 laughing with the pebbles over the secrets of its 
 quicksands. Gilbert stood on the long nose of 
 the cliff that ran out to the Point, listening, 
 looking, for is not the world very fair to look 
 upon in spring? 
 
 He looked, and his eye was riveted on the 
 white sail of a boat that appeared close below 
 him round the end of the bay. It was coming 
 slow r ly home to its moorings, sailing gently before 
 the breeze, dipping like a sea-gull into the water. 
 He watched it, for he knew it well, and he saw its
 
 228 UGLY IDOL 
 
 occupants ; he watched it, this little boat moving 
 more and more slowly, for Lester, it was evident, 
 was paying no attention to his sails. He started 
 forward to the very edge, unconscious that there 
 was an edge — what did it matter? The big, kind 
 sun shone full on him as he stood there, on his 
 lined, flushed face, his straining, glaring eyes — 
 no, it was not a kind sun that shone on him 
 without the mercy of a shadow. 
 
 The woman in the boat stood up ; he could 
 hear that she was speaking, speaking very loud, 
 and he saw her fling out her arms in supplication 
 before the little, motionless figure at the tiller. 
 
 'Agatha! Agatha I ' he cried. He knew that 
 she was asking for her answer. lie — he! — stood 
 by and looked on, he saw her spurned, repulsed ; 
 he could give her an answer — O God ! a very 
 complete answer. ' Agatha ! Agatha I ' 
 
 She stood up again, and then he saw her at the 
 side of the boat. 
 
 She turned once more, again she spoke, and 
 still the figure sat motionless at the tiller. 
 
 Then — the water spread itself in broadening, 
 grinning wrinkles round about. 
 
 A cry, terrible, triumphant, rang through the 
 air, and was echoed mockingly among the rocks, 
 and with a great jump he sprang from the cliff 
 into the deep, smiling sea below. 
 
 1 Agatha I ' 
 
 Lester heard, but still he sat, his eyes wide 
 open, gazing. ... A hand clutched at the edge 
 of the boat, and for a moment a pale face,
 
 UGLY IDOL 229 
 
 despairing, searching, unutterably forsaken, looked 
 up at him. . . . 
 
 His eyes suddenly sparkled, and he rose with 
 nervous energy, directing the boat to its mooring. 
 He was going to call for help. He was going 
 for aid. 
 
 The sea, smiling over the secret of its quick- 
 sands, rippled in to the shore. 
 
 Lester came into the room where Theresa sat ; 
 looking up, she saw his face. 
 
 1 Where is she ? ' she whispered fearfully. 
 
 He gazed at her, a triumphant smile on his 
 lips, his eyes glistening. 
 
 1 Theresa ! ' he cried, embracing her fondly. 
 ' I have found it, — I have seen it — now I know, — 
 oh, I know ! ' 
 
 He ran away to the studio and locked the 
 door. 
 
 A picture was exhibited next year which 
 created a great sensation. One read that it was 
 the greatest attainment of Lester's genius, and it 
 was admired, discussed, denounced. No other 
 picture of his was ever shown, and his house in 
 London was empty, and then it was rumoured 
 that he had fallen over on the other side, that is, 
 no longer genius. . . . 
 
 The name of the picture was ' Despair.'
 
 Printed by T. and A. Constable, Printer* to Hex Majesty 
 
 at the Edinburgh University Press
 
 John Lane 
 
 Cije Bowleg ftfcaU 
 VIGO STREET, LONDON, W. 
 
 THE KEYNOTES SERIES. 
 
 Each volume with Designed Title-page and Cover 
 Crown Svo. 3s. 6d. net. 
 
 Seventh Edition. 
 
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 THE DANCING FAUN. By Florence Farr. Crown 
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 A CHILD OF THE AGE. By Francis Adams. Crown 
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 Twenty-second Edition. 
 
 THE WOMAN WHO DID. By Grant Allen. Crown 
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 ' A distinctly clever book, of a fresh conventionality.'— Academy. 
 
 'A brilliantly-written tale. . . . Teems with character sketches of ex- 
 traordinary force and delicacy.' — Daily Telegraph.
 
 THE KEYNOTES SERIES 
 
 Second Edition. 
 
 THE GIRL FROM THE FARM. By Gertrude Dix. 
 Crown 8vo, 3s. 6d. net. 
 
 I )ix has a pleasant and graceful style. The dean is well and sym- 
 pathetically portrayed, and some of the scenes between him and Katherine 
 bear the stamp of truth.' — Daily ChronicU. 
 
 ' The novel is exceptionally well written, the characters are admirably 
 drawn ; there is a vividness, too, about several of the descriptions and 
 scenes which is a great deal more than mere patient realism.' — Glasgow 
 Herald. 
 
 ' A decidedly clever little book.' — Saturday Review. 
 
 ' The work of a writer with real gifts for fiction, gifts of characterisation 
 and story-telling.' — Star. 
 
 ' The story is cleverly constructed and well written.'— Weekly Scots/turn. 
 
 ' A thoroughly wholesome book and very clever. Katherine is a charming 
 : r.' — Queen. 
 
 verful piece of writing. The dean and his daughter are drawn 10 
 evitw. 
 
 Till-: MIRROR OF MUSIC. By Stanley V. Makower. 
 Crown Svo, 3s. 6d. net. 
 
 'It i^ a new thing in literature. There is a magnificent breadth, a 
 simple directness, about the conception of this diary, and the leading idea 
 is worked out with a resourceful ingenuity, a piercing insight, and an 
 unerring taste which betray the hand of some one very like a master.'— 
 Woman. 
 
 markably original and noteworthy book.' — Saturday Review. 
 
 ' A fantastic and original book, to which belongs that note of distinction 
 rait in the days of crude aud rapid production.' — Daily News. 
 
 ' The volume is a very remarkable one, and will be valued most of all by 
 rho love music in its best and noblest forms." — Western Morning 
 New*.
 
 THE KEYNOTES SERIES 
 
 YELLOW AND WHITE. By W. Carlton Dawe. 
 Crown 8vo, 3s. 6d. net. 
 
 1 Stirring and admirably written stories. In " Fan-Tan " a superb word- 
 picture is painted of the Chinese national game, and of the gambling hells 
 in which it is continuously played. The stories abound in dramatic situa- 
 tions and palpitate with dramatic interest.' — Daily Telegraph. 
 
 ' Are well written, and have about them a flavour of the shiny East, 
 which would seem to show that they are the work of "one who knows" 
 what he is talking about.' — Daily Chronicle. 
 
 'This thoroughly entertaining volume. Rich in local colour, and pre- 
 sented with considerable literary skill in a peculiarly vivid and impressive 
 manner. ' — Observer. 
 
 ' Are as idyllic and charming as the heart could desire. Every page 
 gives sign that the book has been put together with fastidious and loving 
 care. Several of the tales are completely effective, and none fall short of 
 an entrancing picturesqucness.'— Woman. 
 
 THE MOUNTAIN LOVERS. By Fiona Macleod. 
 Crown 8vo, 3s. 6d. net. 
 
 ' It is impossible to read her and not to feel that some magic in her touch 
 has made the sun seem brighter, the grass greener, the world more wonder- 
 ful.'— Mr. Ghorge Cotterell in Tlu Academy. 
 
 ' We eagerly devour page after page ; we are taken captive by the speed 
 and poetry of the book.' — Literary World. 
 
 ' Primitive instincts and passions, primitive superstitions and faiths, are 
 depicted with a passionate sympathy that acts upon us as an irresistible 
 charm.'— National Observer. 
 
 ' From Nial the Soulless, with his hopeless quest and wild songs and 
 incantations, to sweet Sorcha, who dies of the dream in her eyes, these 
 mountain folk have charm to set one musing. The book ic altogether 
 fascinating.'— Saturday Revievj. 
 
 ' The sadness of Fiona Macleod's " Mountain Lovers " is well redeemed 
 by the art with which the short and simple story is told.'— St. James's
 
 THE KEYNOTES SERIES 
 
 Third Edition. 
 
 THE WOMAN WHO DIDN'T. By Victoria Crosse. 
 Crown 8vo, 3s. 6d. net. 
 
 'No one who recollects "Theodora" will need to be told with what 
 acute perception the author reveals the hidden springs of human conduct. 
 In her the feminine gift of intuition seems to be developed with almost 
 uncanny strength, and what she sees she has the power of flashing upon 
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 find within its pages a strong and subtle study of feminine nature, bitins 
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 Speaker. 
 
 ' A striking, well-told story, strong in character drawing, subtle in 
 observation, and fascinating in its hold of the reader.' — Realm. 
 
 ' Is undoubtedly effective. Told with singular force and naturalness, 
 which renders it by no means unworthy of the admirable series in which 
 it is included.'— Whitehall Sttriew. 
 
 ' Is at least a proof that the " Keynotes Series" can touch the soft pedal 
 of resignation as well as the clarion of revolt." — Sketch. 
 
 THE THREE IMPOSTORS. Ly Arthur Machen. 
 Crown 8vo, 3s. 61I. net. 
 
 ' With this new volume Mr. Machen boldly challenges comparison with 
 Mr. Stevenson's " Dynamiters." We enjoy his humour and marvel at his 
 ingenuity.' — Daily Chronicle. 
 
 ' We confess to having read the volume with entrancing interest. It has 
 power, it has grip, it holds the reader ; and if it leaves him in a decidedly 
 creepy condition, it likewise leaves him asking, like Oliver Twist, for more.' 
 — 11 'kitehall RtvitV. 
 
 'These different tales are ingeniously strung together, and lead up to a 
 fearful climax. The idea is gracefully and artistically worked out. Those 
 who enjoy a thrill of horror will find much entertainment in these weird and 
 uncanny stories.' — Scotsman. 
 
 ' Remarkably well done and remarkably thrilling. Mr. Machen has 
 constructed a book full of trepidations and unnamed terrors. It i<; n^t 
 Stevenson, of course, but it is a prodigiously clever counterfeit." — Woman.
 
 THE KEYNOTES SERIES 
 
 Second Edition. 
 
 THE BRITISH BARBARIANS. By Grant Allen. 
 Crown 8vo, 3s. net. 
 
 ' Mr. Allen takes occasion to say a good many things that require saying, 
 and suggests a good many reforms that would, if adopted, bring our present 
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 'A clever, trenchant satire on the petty conventionalities of modern life.' — 
 Vanity Fair. 
 
 'All will acknowledge the skill and cleverness of the writing. Honest 
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 ' We can warmly recommend it as an eminently readable and distinctly 
 clever piece of work.' — Publishers' Circular. 
 
 ' Is not a book to be dismissed lightly. There can be no doubt that 
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 'It is a triumph of the advocate's art, so advanced, so honest, and so 
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 ' An extremely careful and clever study ... a deeply interesting story. 
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 would speak them.' — Pall Mall Gazette. 
 
 'Yet another success in Mr. Lane's "Keynotes" Series. "Nobody's 
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 authoress again. It reads like a transcript from a personal experience. One 
 follows Bridget's career with almost breathless interest.' — Weekly Sun. 
 
 ' Bridget is alive to the finger tips ; a vivid, impulsive creature ; of as 
 many moods as there are hours in the day ; brave, beautiful, outspoken, with 
 something of temperament genius.' — Daily News.
 
 THE KEYNOTES SERIES 
 
 PLATONIC AFFECTIONS. By John Smith. Crown 
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 ' A remarkably powerful and original story.' — Daily Telegraph. 
 
 'The reader will not feel inclined to quarrel with Mr. Smith for the light 
 and breezy way in which he deals with the problem : therein lies much of 
 the charm of " Platonic Affections." ' — Academy. 
 
 'An original and striking story, written in easy and pleasant style. 
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 arrangements never stand the test of time, the inevitable denouement 
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 '"The Unforgiven Sin," a story of woman's dishonour judged in the 
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 IN IIOMESTUN. By E. Nesdit. Crown Svo, 3s. 6d. net. 
 
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 '"A Death-bed Confession" is one of the strongest, sterner 
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 fine enough itself to make the fortune of the book." — Daily Telegraph.
 
 THE KEYNOTES SERIES 
 
 NETS FOR THE WIND. By Una Taylor. Crown 8vo, 
 3s. 6d. net. 
 
 1 Miss Taylor is to be congratulated upon a very remarkable achieve- 
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 brilliantly.'— Glasgow Herald. 
 
 ' Full of fascination. The writer is an artist in words and the word 
 painting is always finished like a picture.' — Scots/nan. 
 
 'Wild, fantastic, and full of dreamy sadness, are the sketches in this 
 volume.'— Pall Mall Gazette. 
 
 ' Miss Taylor has imagination and also a picturesque and delicately 
 vivid style.' — Daily News. 
 
 IN SCARLET AND GREY: Stories of Soldiers and 
 Others. By Florence Henniker. With 'The Spectre 
 of the Real.' By Florence Henniker and Tiiomas 
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 'The work of a keen and sympathetic observer of life endowed with a 
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 ' Written with quiet pathos, unerring insight, and conspicuous felicity of 
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 ' It is a real delight to read anything so delicately finished and so rich 
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 DAY BOOKS. By Mabel E. Wotton. Crown Svo, 
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 'The interest is considerable and well sustained.' — Whitehall Review. 
 
 ' Stamp her as a keen analyst of character and motive, and a writer who 
 can be graceful or powerful as the occasion requires.' — Scotsman. 
 
 ' " Morison's Heir" is a really clever study of a shallow and selfish 
 woman. The irony of a delicate situation is skilfully developed.'— ( 
 Herald.
 
 THE KEYNOTES SERIES 
 
 FORTHCOMING VOLUMES. 
 STELLA MARIS. By Marie Clothilde Balfour. 
 UGLY IDOL. By Claud Nicholson. 
 SHAPES IN THE FIRE. By M. P. Shiel. 
 KAKEMONOS. By W. Carlton Dawe. 
 COD'S FAILURES. By J. S. Fletcher,
 
 ®m JOHN LANE 
 
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 J^ BE LLE S LETTRE S WMM&sE.

 
 iSg-6 
 
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 u. The Dancing Faun. By 
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