GODFREY MERIVALE 
 
 Being a Portion of His History
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE 
 
 Being a Portion of His History 
 
 BY 
 
 H. B. MARRIOTT WATSON 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 
 'THE HOUSE DIVIDED"; "CHLORIS OF THE ISLAND"; "THE REBEL' 
 "THE ADVENTURERS"; "GALLOPING DICK," ETC. 
 
 PHILIP WELLBY 
 
 6 HENRIETTA STREET, W.C. 
 
 LONDON 
 
 1902
 
 PLYMOUTH 
 
 WILLIAM BRENDON AND SON 
 PRINTERS
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE 
 
 Being a Portion of His History 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE original home of the Merivales, in which, indeed, 
 it had been their extravagant boast that they were 
 autochthonous, was the county of Yorkshire. Here was 
 the spreading theatre of their earlier achievements, mainly 
 displayed in those days by raid and tourney of arms, and 
 by a constant expansion of territory in the Ridings. They 
 were a formidable family in feudal times, could bring into 
 the field a small army, and cut their way, by one means 
 or another but chiefly by violence into some position at 
 Court. What broke them, as most houses of the kind 
 were broken, was the long civil war which ended in the 
 accession of the first Tudor sovereign. They were, of 
 necessity, White, and shared in the fall of the Yorkists so 
 thoroughly that Sir Edward Merivale, of Pontrack, the 
 head of the house, found himself left with little more than 
 bare acres, a smoking castle, and his own worthless life. 
 Yet with that descent upon misfortune and indignity the 
 family entered upon a new career. Keeps and castles, 
 raids and forays were out of date ; lands stretched green 
 before fine mansions, and formal gardens grew where 
 moat and dyke had been. The Merivales, with the 
 common sense of the race, recognised the new era, 
 acquiesced in its changes, and sank into home-keeping
 
 a GODFREY MERIVALE 
 
 and hard-drinking 1 country squires. If they earned little 
 they did not spend much, since London never saw them, 
 and, great as their name sounded on their native fells and 
 moors, they were unacquainted alike with fashion and the 
 march of the broad world. Gross of speech, and rude of 
 manner, yet keeping a certain physical excellence, these 
 bumpkins swaggered, and hiccoughed and sported, and 
 bred from generation to generation. And they bred 
 generously and well, so that in the end what was seen 
 to be inevitable happened. They broke their confines, 
 swarmed over the borders of the shire, and spread in 
 streams about the country at large. Then it was that 
 Godfrey Merivale, who as the owner of Pontrack was 
 properly regarded as the head of that clan, shut up his 
 castle, cleared out most of his kinsmen, and came up 
 to London, under the influence, it may be, of some 
 more adventurous ancestor. This was in the reign of 
 William III., when solid men of common sense were in 
 request rather than brisk wits and indecent elegance. 
 Godfrey Merivale's tall body and strong face helped in his 
 advancement ; he was pitchforked into a position at the 
 Treasury, through the offices of a great nobleman, and, 
 gaining somehow a reputation for honesty, as well as for 
 financial ability, died Sir Godfrey, and the first baronet 
 of his line. 
 
 From that time the fortunes of the family mended at 
 least of that branch of the family which Sir Godfrey 
 represented. Pontrack was rebuilt by the second baronet, 
 and throughout the eighteenth century the Yorkshire dale 
 blossomed slowly into the peaceful beauty which charac- 
 terises it to-day. Yet the characters of that stock remained 
 the same, or changed very little, except under the common 
 moulding of the changing times. The later Merivales 
 of Pontrack were men of education, of substance, of 
 respectability, sometimes, and even in one or two examples 
 developed a quickness of wit. But behind that or before
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE 3 
 
 that, indeed, since these were the prime features of the 
 blood the Merivales remained, as they had been, hard, 
 handsome, and capable of common sense, because wholly 
 destitute of sentiment. They were dull and unimagina- 
 tive, but they knew their mind, they never doubted what 
 they wanted, and consequently what they wanted they 
 generally got. The violence of the Borderers had degene- 
 rated, or ascended, it may be, into obstinacy obstinacy 
 marked by an extremely selfish good humour. And with 
 all this there is still another character of this house to 
 be remarked as inhering. Fecund they were before the 
 War of the Roses decimated their lives, and fecund they 
 remained. Man and woman, they begot and brought forth 
 handsome children in plenty to carry on the Merivale 
 nature and the Merivale eyes eyes blue, hard, and 
 faithful to their quest. The modest fortunes of Sir 
 Godfrey and his immediate successors were sorely bur- 
 dened by the claims of many children ; and perhaps it 
 was the charges entailed by these that drove the Merivales 
 eventually to seek the rehabilitation of their purses and 
 estates by advantageous matches. They married heiresses, 
 from the third baronet onwards ; and now for the first 
 time did Nature interfere with what had seemed to be an 
 indestructible property of that blood, a property as in- 
 eluctable as fate. By what irony, or through what stroke 
 of divine anger, was it that with this renewal of their 
 fortunes the Merivale fruitfulness waned ? Sporadically, 
 if the phrase may be allowed, the large broods appeared, 
 but with the constant accession of fresh heiresses, even 
 this accidental atavism vanished, and the ranks of the 
 later generations in direct heirship dwindled. That strong 
 and fecund blood grew impoverished and rare, as infertile 
 as though the owners were mean and small and sickly, 
 and not tall and fair and ruddy of colour and sound in 
 limb. Thus Sir Francis eighth baronet, a quiet, stalwart 
 sportsman of forty odd, had no children, and enjoyed
 
 4 GODFREY MERIVALE 
 
 by the favour of his forefathers a rent-roll of ^"50,000 
 a year. 
 
 The line was, however, in no danger of extinction, for 
 the sprigs of this ancient race sprouted in many countries 
 and counties. It is with one branch in the West that this 
 narrative is immediately concerned. The fourth son of 
 Sir Hubert, the fourth baronet, born before the heiresses 
 had made a deep impression upon the family fortunes, 
 was obliged to content himself with a family living in the 
 fens, a rich living, one that had increased in value with 
 the rolling centuries, and changed from a wide and empty 
 marsh land into a fat and populous glebe. Yet since 
 the advowson returned to the gift of the family, and 
 the living fell afterwards to some Merivale of a nearer 
 claim, the fourth son's eldest son found himself cast upon 
 an indifferent world with some brothers, and the savings 
 only of a hard-living parson. His share in these sufficed 
 to set him up eventually as a solicitor, and as such he 
 lived a respectable life in the respectable city of Worcester, 
 trusted by his clients, and invited upon ceremonious occa- 
 sions to dine with squires and hierarchs. This gentleman, 
 who was a Godfrey, developed a cynical humour, which 
 was of no value to his children, but, having married the 
 daughter of a prosperous doctor, and lived economically, 
 he was able to distribute at his death a surplus among 
 five children. So far the Merivales of this obscure branch 
 had not (you will perceive) paid the penalty of commercial 
 marriage, nor could the charge be justly brought against 
 the eldest son of the solicitor, although his wife had in- 
 herited a small fortune, and although she bore him but 
 one child. This Roland Merivale, a degenerate from 
 the stock, abandoned to his nearest brother the practice 
 of solicitor, and, living idly upon his small patrimony, 
 sank at last to poverty. From this he was ultimately 
 rescued by the match he made with the daughter of a com- 
 fortable tradesman ; after which, gathering up his self-
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE 5 
 
 respect, he started a school in Cheltenham, a vocation for 
 which he was obviously unfitted. Charlotte Merivale was 
 a young woman of graces and a better education than 
 might have been expected, and the affection between her 
 and the helpless schoolmaster was sincere and pathetic. 
 But she died a pretty, colourless woman when the boy, 
 Godfrey, was in petticoats, and the school followed her 
 very shortly into eternity. The modest competence which 
 had come to him with his wife seemed to this amiable 
 dilettante the end of his and the world's desire. The 
 Merivale blood had drifted into strange corners, where 
 it would not have known itself. Here was one of that 
 house, after two generations only of less aristocratic 
 mothers, fallen to the tastes of a recluse, a student, a 
 man whose nose hangs over books and prints ; for the 
 schoolmaster, his wife dead, fell into deeper retirement, 
 journeyed to and from his library, spent his time in 
 consulting catalogues of second-hand dealers, and in 
 opening newly arrived parcels, and rejoiced over his pipe 
 and glass, indifferent of company, even if it should be his 
 son's. Gone were the eyes of the Merivales at last, and 
 two quick, changing, humorous orbs of grey looked 
 forth upon the spectacle of life. This Roland Merivale 
 owned all the properties necessary to success save one, 
 and that was ambition, or, if the word sound better, 
 determination. He reclined upon his own comfort, and 
 shrugged his shoulders at opportunity ; his imagination 
 (O Merivales !) was at once too strong and too shy to find 
 a welcome in the circles into which he was roughly cast. 
 His brother, the engineer, who dammed cataracts and 
 bridged chasms in Indian mountains, had found a vent 
 for a quality of less frailty and less indolence. But the 
 schoolmaster passed down life content and ungrudging, 
 casting a smile at the humours of a world of which he 
 did not consider himself a part. 
 
 Young Godfrey Merivale had no memories of his dead
 
 6 . GODFREY MERIVALE 
 
 mother, but his father had impressed himself somewhat 
 deeply as an unusual figure. The house in Cheltenham 
 did not go by the rules of other houses. The meals 
 were irregular, the guests were few, and the conduct 
 of the establishment was unconventional. The stratum 
 of society in which Roland Merivale found himself moved 
 him generally to amusement, but sometimes to distaste. 
 Yet for the sake of his wife he accepted it, although 
 she was long since gone ; and, indeed, he would have 
 had no spirit to break away if he had desired to do 
 so. Custom chained him to his irregular and unhealthy 
 habits, to his poor company, and to his books. This 
 shabby-genteel student grew more of a scholar with the 
 years, to which taste he added that of a connoisseur of 
 wine. The combination was recollected by his son as far 
 back as his memory could travel. There was a figure 
 in the twilight, the nose shut between the covers of musty 
 volumes ; there was the sound of turning pages ; and upon 
 the table stood a decanter of a pleasant redness. Below 
 and silent upon a hassock was a child's shape, humped 
 sleepily against the wall, deep in the shadows and for- 
 gotten these two hours. This dream came back at times 
 to Godfrey's mind. The thick, unmanageable volume of 
 pictures had fallen from his knee and woke him. There 
 was the light still nickering on his father's face, discolour- 
 ing the features so oddly that they suggested to the boy 
 an ogre. He stared in horror, newly out of sleep ; the 
 ogre champed his lips, and there was a sound of wine 
 running into a glass. Back into the light again stepped 
 the yellow-faced ogre, and once more the leaves of the 
 book rustled. The child dared not move ; so greatly had 
 his fancy worked on him. He breathed deeply ; the book 
 shut with a clap ; he uttered a cry ; and his father came 
 forward. 
 
 "What, child, not in bed yet? You must go. You 
 must go. I will ring for Hannah."
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE 7 
 
 Hannah arrived ; the lights were lit ; Godfrey's head 
 was patted softly and affectionately, but absently ; and as 
 the child went out, hanging to Hannah's firm hand, the 
 scholar settled himself to more books and wine. 
 
 The pictures retained upon the memory of childhood 
 are inconsequent and accidental ; no common meaning 
 may be found in them. Another scene was graven deep 
 on Godfrey's mind. Two men talked together, and one 
 was he whom he had learned to call cousin a stout, 
 cheerful fellow, identified in later years as a local vintner. 
 The voices rose, and attracted the attention of the child 
 at play. They rose higher, and he paused in his military 
 operations to gape. 
 
 " Your bill, sir, your bill ! " demanded his father, harsh 
 of note and imperious. 
 
 " Why, it can't end like this, Mr. Merivale ; it can't end 
 like this," pleaded the vintner. 
 
 " Your bill ! " vociferated the scholar, thumping on the 
 table. 
 
 " After all our friendship " began the stout man. 
 
 "Friendship! D'ye suppose there could be any ques- 
 tion of friendship between you and me ? " cried Roland 
 Merivale scornfully. "After our friendship! Man, you 
 forget your place." 
 
 "I'm your poor wife's cousin," said the stout man 
 sullenly ; " and what are you but a damned boy- 
 thumper ? " 
 
 "Send in your bill, Mr. Packer," said the ex-school- 
 master, cold and stern, " and oblige me by considering 
 my account and acquaintance closed." 
 
 The origin of this quarrel was never known to the boy, 
 who was vaguely terrified by the passions of the opposing 
 parties. But the vintner ceased to come to the house, and 
 never afterwards was recognised. Indeed, the day before 
 the clumsy youth of twenty left his native town for 
 London, Mr. Packer, now grown stouter and less cheerful,
 
 S GODFREY MERlVALE 
 
 stared at him blankly and severely from the doorway of 
 his shop. 
 
 It is clear that a sudden surge of caste feeling had 
 overwhelmed the Merivale in his encounter with the 
 tradesman ; but this was by no means characteristic of 
 him. Arrogant he was, as became his blood, however 
 sadly changed and adulterated ; but he took no pride in 
 the history of his family and, in fact, knew little about it. 
 Like his father before him, he had been born far from the 
 atmosphere and influences of Pontrack, had never seen it, 
 and had nothing to expect from it. His pride was rather 
 that of intellect than of race, and even of taste more than 
 of intellect. He loved to be put to the test as a con- 
 noisseur of literature in general, of poetry in particular. 
 His tastes and his instinct of intellectual arrogance 
 descended to his son, and were sedulously, if un- 
 consciously, fostered. The iron and unblushing faces 
 of the Merivales had faded to this pale scholastic visage, 
 yet the continuity of blood inhered and revealed itself in 
 an indifferent eye to morals. The ex-schoolmaster had 
 no morals ; they did not come into his philosophy of life. 
 He passed the literature of the ages in review before him, 
 and found nothing in it objectionable save from the point 
 of art. He trained his son in this indifference, not by 
 active persuasion, but through a neglect to instil prin- 
 ciples. 
 
 "Take this epigram of Martial," said he, "Number 
 so-and-so, Godfrey. Can you read it? There's the 
 decline I spoke of just now. The man's a mere canter, 
 the dirty boy of the party. But that phrase is turned 
 well. You know the meaning of ... oh, I think it's in 
 the dictionary. . . . There is neither grace nor light. . . . 
 Confound the man, he might have been the author of all 
 the mural literature of Rome." 
 
 And the boy of fifteen shifted uneasily upon his seat, as 
 the meaning of the passage dawned slowly upon him.
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE 9 
 
 Godfrey clove his way steadily through Aristophanes 
 with a growing wonder. Old Roland chuckled and 
 pointed the wit of his author ; he loved to hang over 
 a phrase, to twist a rendering into perfection ere he let it 
 go. But to the pupil, who dared not give mouth to the 
 blasphemous comparison, the plays seemed much on a 
 level with the performances of the strolling companies of 
 burlesque. Yet upon that reflection the "violet crown" 
 or some such phrase would strike his fancy, and he would 
 spend his leisure time in writing. Most of what he wrote 
 he headed Carmma, and began with Lib. I. Ovid had 
 done the same, and Horace, whom he did not like, not 
 to speak of Propertius and Tibullus. These verses, 
 achieved in the boy's sixteenth and seventeenth years, 
 were mainly erotic, but upon a high and passionate plane. 
 They dealt with an emotion sacrosanct and undefiled by 
 earthy taints ; it was not a gross sentiment of the living 
 creature, but something ethereal, intangible, spiritual, 
 and coy. It resounded through addresses, which had the 
 solemnity of religion, to the Paphian Queen, to Eros 
 Anichate, to Cytherea, to the unstained and radiant 
 Anadyomene ; or, venturing more boldly still, to the 
 "chaste huntress," to the wild inviolable nymphs of wood 
 and sea. At twelve he had wept over CEnone, and his 
 heart was full of tenderness for the discarded Ariadne. 
 At fifteen he wrote : 
 
 " Midmost Pelion's giant pines 
 That grace his height and glory his inclines 
 There sleeps a bower far lovelier than there be 
 In the Elysium of the Deity." 
 
 But these essays in verse never reached the ear or eye 
 of his father, before whose austere judgment they would 
 have shrivelled up. 
 
 " I see you scribbling a good deal, Godfrey," said the 
 man once. "What is it you write?" and as the boy 
 stammered and grew red, " Is it verse ? "
 
 io GODFREY MERIVALE 
 
 Godfrey gasped out an affrighted affirmative, trembling 1 
 for the next question or command. 
 
 "Ah!" was his father's reply, "I won't ask to see 
 them. Of course they mean nothing. It is a good thing 
 for the taste. It educates. But burn them, my dear boy, 
 burn them afterwards. I have composed epics and odes 
 in my time, and I thank God there is not one line in 
 existence. The value of writing oneself is to be able to 
 appreciate others. Go on with your poems, and burn 
 them." 
 
 This unexpected advice was not followed by Godfrey, 
 who cherished for several years the hope that some day 
 his work might find place in a book. The local paper, 
 into which some of his less private and discreter rhymes 
 were occasionally admitted, printed now and then reviews 
 of books, and to see his slim volume of verse lordly 
 dominating this column had been the aspiration of years. 
 The desire had not wholly left him when, at a later age, 
 he was himself a contributor (unpaid) to the column, and 
 wrote long and serious articles on the meaning of Rossetti's 
 House of Life and Browning's Sordello, which were in- 
 variably emasculated by the irreverent editor. Nay, faintly 
 in London town even did that thin ghost of ambition haunt 
 him, invisible save in the somnolent hours between sleeping 
 and waking, and revisiting him reproachfully through the 
 pleasant fumes of his " nightcap." 
 
 That he was destined to rack the fine feelings of the 
 world as a poet of the mystery and tragedy of life was 
 Godfrey's firm belief in those days ; and there is no doubt 
 that this faith, strong because instinctive, sustained him in 
 a life somewhat solitary. Educated beyond the environ- 
 ment which was natural to his mother's son, he had few 
 thoughts or feelings in common with that prosperous 
 circle of burgesses. Rather did his mind turn towards 
 those superior beings who composed the aristocracy of 
 the town. Colonels and generals were there in numbers,
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE n 
 
 with all their healthy families ; and from the surrounding 
 country flowed a stream of rural gentlemen. The son of 
 a solicitor, who had declined leisurely to the solitude of 
 his study, was no proper mate for such as these, who held 
 like limpets to the caste to which they had been born, or 
 which they had achieved. Still less was the son of a poor 
 schoolmaster a fit companion for their children. Godfrey 
 had recognised very early the chasm between him and 
 these children, to whom he was naturally drawn. His 
 experiences included several repulses, of one of which his 
 father was, by accident, a witness. The scowl on Roland 
 Merivale's face abashed the offender into surly silence and 
 an awkward withdrawal ; but it was upon his son that the 
 wrath was vented. 
 
 "What did you let him do that for, you little fool?" 
 demanded the ex-schoolmaster. "Cannot you hold your 
 own ? We were gentlemen before these people were out 
 of the gutters " ; and later, in the evening, he became 
 friendly and communicative over his port. 
 
 " Our ancestors fought at Barnet and at Flodden, before 
 these people were created," he said genially. " You 
 remember Towton, Godfrey? There Sir Roger Merivale 
 fell with sixty of his retainers." 
 
 Godfrey was twelve and inquisitive. " Which side were 
 they, father ? " he asked anxiously ; and had a deep sense 
 of disappointment when he heard that the Merivales stood 
 for the White Rose. Henry, the victor of Agincourt, had 
 been his hero, and Henry was a Lancastrian. 
 
 "Every brother of Edward Merivale (his name was 
 given him by the kings of that line) fell at Bosworth 
 three brothers and two uncles so they say," concluded 
 the schoolmaster, puffing at his cigar. 
 
 " Where did they live? " asked Godfrey, glowing. 
 
 "The castle still stands, but modernised," said his 
 father. "It is in Yorkshire. Pontrack is the name. 
 I've never seen it. ..." He looked at his wine, and
 
 12 GODFREY MERIVALE 
 
 smiled humorously at the serried ranks of his library. 
 "Quantum mutatis ab illo" he murmured. "Wine and 
 wench and the consolation of religion. ..." And so he 
 passed into a muse. 
 
 But from that time forward the boy had another interest 
 over which to dream. He came of an ancient and illus- 
 trious family, which had poured forth its rich blood on 
 innumerable fields of honour. Morte d' Arthur guided his 
 ideas in this connection. The glory of the conflict, the 
 whole-hearted surrender of the knight to chivalry, the 
 abandonment of physical courage, the heroism of an 
 ideal, these sentiments, transmuted and exalted by the 
 modern heart, animated the growing boy. He stormed 
 Acre with the Crusaders, and died many deaths upon 
 stricken fields, in defence of beauty, in defence of inno- 
 cence, in his role of Knight of Compassion and Champion 
 of Lost Causes. In his father's bookcase was a volume 
 of the Peerage, and he spent many hours over it. Under 
 the name of Merivale, in the Baronetage, he found much 
 that was interesting concerning the earlier history of the 
 family ; but there was no mention of his father or himself. 
 Knight Banneret was a style of honour that took him 
 greatly, and Sir Edward, Knight Banneret (stout and 
 noisome English captain) became to him a paladin. 
 
 "A gentle knight was pricking o'er the plain." 
 
 In that fine line rode Sir Edward to the wars in behalf 
 of his God and his king, Yorkist though he might be. 
 Godfrey, his descendant, took indeed to wearing white 
 roses in summer when his pocket allowed him, and the 
 immortal conqueror of Agincourt faded into the unreality 
 of a stained-glass window. It was in the pages of Burke 
 that he came across the namesake of his father : ''Roland 
 Western Merivale, born 1820, married (\) Caroline, daughter 
 of Sir James Cresvoick, Q, C. , ivho died in 1865, (2) Emily, 
 daughter of George Bunt, Esq., of Haythorpe ; died 1874."
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE 13 
 
 And underneath this name the following: "(i) Eleanor 
 Caroline, b. 1850, d. 1870 ; (2) Jane, b. 1853, d. 1856 ; 
 (3) Ellice, b. 1860, d. 1862 ; (4) John Roland, b. 1870." 
 
 This formal and, so to say, official recognition of his 
 relatives made Godfrey's blood fly. The cold, blunt ad- 
 mission of the family, with the names and ages of the 
 children, was more glorious, because more grave, than 
 any celebration in florid language. They existed within 
 the clasps of a stud-book, and no doubt moved all the 
 more portentously and solemnly for that. He wondered 
 what the John Roland, who was six years younger than 
 himself, was like, and under the influence of an exaltation 
 due to the proud knowledge of his blood he sat down 
 and wrote a letter to Roland Western Merivale, of 
 Cadogan Gardens and Richmond. It did not seem 
 possible that a Roland should not answer the son of a 
 Roland ; but time went by and no letter came, extending 
 a right hand, and full of family history, to Godfrey of 
 the line of Sir Edward, Knight Banneret. Indeed the 
 letter lay in pieces in the waste-paper basket, and had 
 no place in the recollections of a busy banker who was 
 also a busier amateur of Art.
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 ODFREY was hurt, but in no way abashed by the 
 silence of his kindred. He would not expose him- 
 self to a second rebuff, being 1 of a sensitive nature, but 
 he took no less delight in his genealogy. That drunken 
 and quarrelsome marauder, Raymond Merivale, who led 
 a company of pikes with Cceur-de-Lion, became the most 
 considered of his known ancestors. Raymond had not 
 only been an unscrupulous adventurer, but worse things 
 were suspected of him, though the reverend chroniclers 
 for the love of Holy Church had been prepared to gild 
 him into the likeness of a saint. He died with a poignard 
 in his back, which was evidence of some foul treachery 
 in his household, and proof, also, to the boy that he had 
 been martyr to some Lost Cause. It was this character 
 Godfrey assumed for himself, though he was far from 
 admitting the causes as lost. They were forlorn hopes 
 which he led, and invariably to success. He had no 
 partners in these brave feats and noble combats, for there 
 was no one with whom his shamefaced soul might seek 
 communion. His father was set a great way off, the 
 children of his age belonged to a different class, and 
 above him were the cold, repellent countenances of the 
 gentry. His mother's sister, Aunt Edith, that warm and 
 talkative woman, drew nearest to his confidence, and 
 might have gained it if she had been in constant touch 
 with him. But Mrs. Fardell had married into the northern 
 centres of industrialism, and journeyed south but once 
 or twice in the year. Good-looking, coarse in her texture, 
 
 14
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE 15 
 
 but of a certain neat taste and intelligence, Aunt Edith 
 beamed upon the solitary boy with a sense of friendliness 
 and indulgence. She was like a lighted inn, where he 
 was welcome, sure of warmth and food the single 
 hostelry in that inhospitable country. She sympathised 
 with Godfrey in his pride of race, and seemed vaguely 
 to indicate that it was his father's fault that better use 
 was not made of the facts. On one occasion the brother- 
 in-law overheard a conversation which ruffled his irritable 
 mind. 
 
 " How can you encourage that child in that nonsense? " 
 he asked angrily. " You ought to know better. Crusaders ! 
 Good Lord ! So is everyone descended from the Crusaders. 
 I won't have such tomfoolery, Edith." 
 
 At which Aunt Fardell broke out in her voluble way, 
 coarsening as she proceeded. " And I'd like to know, 
 Roland Merivale, why the poor boy shouldn't," she 
 demanded. " If you'd had more thought of it you'd ha' 
 been, perhaps, in a better position. The Merivales come 
 of a proud ancestry, and you ought to know it. I won't 
 have you speak to me like that, not if you did marry poor 
 Lottie." 
 
 The smiling cynicism of Roland Merivale annoyed her, 
 as she told the boy. 
 
 "Your pa aggravates me, dear. He's like my Jim 
 in that. They've both bad tempers. Never you mind, 
 don't you take any notice of him. You go on about 
 the Crusaders. I'd be proud if I'd been a Crusader my- 
 self." 
 
 Aunt Edith's frankness was always at war with her 
 common sense, which was sharp and inevitable. Godfrey's 
 verses were a source of surprise to her. He did not 
 discover them to her, but she came upon them for herself, 
 and, being of an inquisitive mind, did not scruple to read 
 what she found. "That stuff," she called it, but very 
 kindly. " I see where you get it, my dear," she said.
 
 16 GODFREY MERIVALE 
 
 "Lottie used to scribble, poor girl! She was great at 
 literature, your ma was. Perhaps that was why your 
 father married her. But she wasn't a bit like me, or none 
 of us. I don't believe she was pa's child at all," she 
 continued meditatively, warming her ankles at the fire. 
 " She wasn't a bit like us " ; and suddenly, recalled to her 
 audience, and, no doubt, a sense of her indiscretion, she 
 broke forth acrimoniously. 
 
 "There, what are you looking at, Godfrey Merivale? 
 Don't stare like a stuck pig. If you think you can cheek 
 me you'll find you're mistaken. There, child, never mind 
 me. I don't mean what I say half the time. Your ma 
 was worth more than me, though she hadn't as good 
 hair ; and you've your pa's handsome face, if you have 
 got your ma's eyes." 
 
 It was, indeed, obvious that all of Roland Merivale had 
 not descended to his son, in whom the blood of another 
 race worked, at times, tempestuously. It was thin, timid, 
 elusive, and leaned to sentiment, which divided his mind 
 in due course between heroics and erotics. The foundations 
 of the strong Merivale nature were indestructible, even by 
 floods of tears. 
 
 For sentiment led to tears ; the fountains of grief sprang 
 lightly in the presence of profound and irrevocable facts. 
 
 "Give me no eyes, no eyes, O Lord," he pleaded, 
 beating his hands, in the face of death or cruelty, or pain 
 or some other mortal woe. "I will not see. Why do 
 they make me see?" And, the sound catching his self- 
 conscious fancy, he repeated to himself a line from an 
 ancient volume on his father's shelves : 
 
 " Oh eyes, no eyes, but fountains fraught with tears !" 
 
 No doubt the plebeian blood was manifest here, but it 
 was not wholly maternal inheritances that drove him into 
 love. Merivales walked that way early, yet not with such 
 ceremony and secrecy, and not with such inward fears.
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE 17 
 
 In those days the Muse had spread over three languages, 
 and was occupied often with indifferent Latin and bad 
 Greek. The ring of the elegiac couplet was in Godfrey's 
 ears, and Ovid was his master, for choice the Heroides 
 with their passionate and mournful cadences. He fashioned 
 addresses to unknown loves, as others have sacrificed to 
 unknown gods. Thus at sixteen he was ripe for romance, 
 and his opportunity was offered in all the richness of 
 poetical attire. He wandered on a warm summer evening 
 in the outskirts of the town, his thoughts in harmony 
 with the generous season, and charged with fancies and 
 imaginings so delicate that he could not put them into 
 words. His father was a scholar ; his mother had written 
 verses ; he was destined to be a great poet. He wondered 
 what those efforts of the dead plebeian mother were like. 
 "She had a real good education, your ma had," Aunt 
 Edith had told him. " She always took to her books, just 
 like your pa." What was not possible to one that came 
 of such stock ? 
 
 Out of the falling dusk the leaves rippled on the trees 
 in the garden close by him ; and he thought of Pan and 
 the glades of Arcady ; and after that of Dryads that hid 
 among the shadows and played in the moonlight. He 
 drew near and peeped over the wall, as if perchance he 
 might catch sight of some fair nymph revisiting the 
 earthly scenes which once her race had peopled. A large 
 apple tree was before him, waving softly, and in it surely 
 some dim shape took form ; eyes looked forth and smiled 
 mysteriously. Ere the fugitive fancy had fled, the form 
 materialised, and in the twilight he was aware of eyes 
 that frowned and a voice that spoke. 
 
 " What are you staring at, I should like to know? " 
 Godfrey muttered an apology, but stared still ; for he 
 saw now quite clearly, and it was a girl who swung in a 
 hammock under the leaves and questioned him. Her 
 frown had gone, and she looked now merely haughty and 
 C
 
 i8 GODFREY MERIVALE 
 
 slightly anxious. The alarm grew in her pretty rounded 
 face. 
 
 " Why don't you go away? " she said boldly. 
 
 "I beg your pardon," stammered Godfrey; "I was 
 thinking of something else ..." and under the spur of 
 Merivale blood, he added quickly, "I thought you were 
 a nymph." 
 
 The young girl considered him, as if in doubt if he 
 jested, but his expression was not such as justified that 
 assumption. She laughed shortly. 
 
 " A nymph ! " she said. " What an idea ! " and added, 
 " I think it's rude to stare over people's walls." 
 
 Godfrey was not prepared to dispute this, but that bold 
 blood kept him lingering. The girl's feet swung in the 
 hammock, and she let her head fall back. Presently she 
 looked up. 
 
 " Aren't you gone? " she said with asperity. 
 
 "No," said Godfrey bluntly, and there was something 
 in his voice which made her eyes fall. 
 
 "You're not one of the Dillons? " she asked next. 
 
 " My name is Merivale," he said. 
 
 "You've no right to come and stare at me," she re- 
 peated with less asperity. 
 
 There was a fervid line which ran to his lips, but he was 
 ashamed ; to publish it would be too bold. Yet the blood 
 mounted in his face. She swung seductive. 
 
 " I have a right to admire you," he stumbled. 
 
 Apparently she paid no heed, or heard not, but the 
 hammock rocked to and fro. 
 
 "Why did you think I was a nymph?" she asked 
 indifferently. 
 
 "You came out of the trees ; it was dusk; your hair 
 glimmered. Then I saw your face ..." He stopped. 
 
 "There aren't any such things as nymphs," the girl 
 said sententiously. 
 
 "You don't know," said Godfrey. "They have cold
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE 19 
 
 white faces in the moonlight. Their hair is an aureole, 
 and their lips part ..." 
 
 The girl gave a little exclamation of impatience, and 
 the hammock came to rest. 
 
 " What is it? " he asked anxiously. 
 
 "My hair," she said, throwing her face boldly into 
 profile, so that its prettiness was apparent. Godfrey, 
 aflame with his ancestors' blood, scrambled to the top 
 of the wall and leaped down into the garden. He 
 approached her. 
 
 "What are you doing?" she began. "You've no 
 right to come over." 
 
 " Your hair was caught," he said quickly. " I couldn't 
 stay there. I wanted to be. . . . Well, here I am," and 
 he ended with an awkward laugh. 
 
 " Do you know whose these grounds are? " she asked 
 with dignity. "They are my father's, Colonel Sebright. 
 You'd better go away." 
 
 " I won't," said the Merivale, obstinate but trembling. 
 
 She made no answer at the moment, but resumed her 
 swinging. Then she spoke, as sounds were audible in 
 the distance. 
 
 " You'll have to now. There's my aunt coming ! " 
 
 Godfrey walked sharply to the wall, prepared to clamber 
 over it, but was arrested by a voice. 
 
 " You needn't do that. There's a gate there." 
 
 He looked about him, and discovered the gate. "Good- 
 bye," he whispered, and shut it behind him. It was opened 
 ere he had taken two steps. 
 
 "There's a dance at the Elvins' on Friday. Are you 
 going to it ? " asked the voice. 
 
 " No," he answered. 
 
 " Don't you go to dances ? " 
 
 "No." 
 
 The gate shut softly, and the youth strode down the 
 road with an odd sense of exaltation. Between this piece
 
 20 GODFREY MERIVALE 
 
 of the town and his home his thoughts flew wildly, like 
 bees disturbed, and ever soaring 1 higher in their wonder 
 and agitation. His spirit touched the clouds and captured 
 worlds, and then came down to earth and the practice 
 of life. That strange and lovely being, in whom all 
 graces united and all holy sentiments centred, could not 
 be won by such courses as he had been pursuing so 
 far. He must work, the barriers must go down ; and the 
 sooner he set about that business the better. He sought 
 his father impulsively, and blurted out his ambitions. 
 
 " Father, I want to do some work, and I want to learn 
 to dance." 
 
 "Very excellent sentiments, "approved Roland Merivale, 
 smoothing his page with a long paper-knife. " It's high 
 time you did both. Come and talk to me about it 
 to-morrow." 
 
 This was indeed encouragement, but encouragement, 
 alas ! that went for little in reality. The confidential talk 
 between father and son was postponed by the former so 
 persistently that the boy despaired of his objects. It was 
 the indolence of the blood grown now into a fixed habit, 
 if not to a positive disease. There was, however, by the 
 favour of chance, someone at hand to assist the aspirations 
 of youth and love. This was a Doctor Cordery, who, ot 
 all Merivale's acquaintances, came nearest to being a 
 friend. The man was middle-aged, bald, and lean, was 
 much in request for his skill, and had remained a bachelor, 
 with not a little vanity and a great belief in his intellectual 
 importance. He meddled in the public affairs of the 
 place, had a dry sense of humour, and was good-natured. 
 For such illnesses as had occurred in the Merivale house- 
 hold this estimable person had been invoked, beginning 
 with the birth of the boy himself. A certain similarity of 
 taste in respect of books created between the two men a 
 bond of interest in each other; and although the seclusion 
 in which the one lived and the busy life of the other
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE 21 
 
 prohibited any deep intimacy, the schoolmaster never 
 referred to the doctor with the contempt with which he 
 named others of his acquaintance, and the doctor had 
 been known to speak of his patient as " a scholar and a 
 gentleman," a title which is traditionally a passport to the 
 heart of county society. 
 
 This Doctor Cordery, under whose indifferent vision the 
 boy had grown up without notice, brought up suddenly 
 against him as he was stepping into his carriage a week 
 later. 
 
 "Well, my boy," said he affably, remembering the son 
 of a scholar, " How's the Gradus? Finished Horace yet?" 
 and seemed to expect no definite answer. Godfrey 
 muttered some civil words, but the Doctor was examining 
 him. " Let's see, how old are you? " 
 
 "Sixteen," said the boy. 
 
 "What's your father going to make of you, eh? A 
 scholar?" He laughed at his little jest. "How would 
 you like to be a scholar? " 
 
 " I should like to write for the papers," burst forth 
 Godfrey, under the incentive of this familiarity. 
 
 "Papers!" echoed the doctor, and still stood, eyeing 
 him. "Not a bad notion. I'll speak about it." With 
 which vague promise he jumped into his brougham and 
 disappeared from sight. Yet he was more than as good 
 as his word, for he visited the older Merivale two days 
 later, and Godfrey, to his unspeakable joy, found himself 
 presented with the opportunity of his dreams. He was to 
 do work (of a kind) for the local paper, the proprietor of 
 which was a friend of Doctor Cordery. 
 
 Here was a beginning of the career, and no doubt also 
 a means to the dance. But the doors had yet to open, 
 which was to happen but partially, and in a manner 
 somewhat odd. The garden on the outskirts was, as 
 may be guessed, the lode-star of the youth's thoughts, 
 eyes, and hopes. He took every opportunity of passing
 
 22 GODFREY MERIVALE 
 
 the house, which seemed cold and stately a fitting 
 dwelling-place for so sweet a creature. He visited the 
 footway in the twilight on several occasions, and his nose 
 hung over the wall in vain. Yet he saw her again at last. 
 
 "What have you come for?" she asked, with the 
 impatience of fifteen. 
 
 "To see you," he answered boldly. 
 
 The plumpness, the temerity of the reply silenced her, 
 and she went on with her occupation. He leaped the wall 
 as he had done before, and stood before her. 
 
 "You'd better go away," she said quickly; "there'll 
 be someone here directly." 
 
 " I don't care," he declared, on the wings of his passion. 
 The voice and vehemence of this defiance awed her, and 
 she said nothing. " I will stay here, where I have a right 
 to stay," he went on with fine courage. 
 
 " It's not your ground," she protested weakly. He 
 took her hand feverishly. 
 
 "No, but you are," he said. "I have a right to be 
 with you." 
 
 "You're talking nonsense," she said with emphasis, 
 but did not tear her hand away. It moved feebly in his 
 grasp. 
 
 " You have not told me your name," he said. 
 
 " Laura," she faltered. 
 
 "Laura . . ." he repeated and " Laura . . ."as though 
 the sound was sweet, "Laura . . . you must . . ." He 
 bent towards her tremulous but resolute, his eyes burning 
 on that small face, which fronted him half frightened and 
 half fascinated. But Laura had been right. There were 
 footsteps in the distance. And Godfrey had been wrong ; 
 for he fled for the gate, ere his wicked purpose had been 
 accomplished, fled, leaving a bewildered maiden, who was 
 also oddly disappointed. 
 
 These visits, wholly nocturnal in intention, if not quite 
 in fact, were repeated by a tacit understanding, and with
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE 23 
 
 its growth the youth's passion became eloquent. It broke 
 the bonds of silence, and wantoned ; it assumed many 
 forms of literary exercise in three languages at least. 
 Most of these warm and turbulent tributes perished 
 unseen by any eyes save his own. One, at least, was 
 destined to another fate, for a wider audience. The 
 summer was still high and clear, when he paid his last 
 surreptitious visit to the garden and its nymph, and in his 
 pocket was his offering. So far his voice had not spoken 
 of his love, but his looks and his lips only. Those feelings 
 which animated him were too delicate for the harsh vocal 
 chords. In their abashed eyes lay their wells of love, and 
 each was aware of it. But on this evening he was em- 
 boldened, and thrust the tribute into his lady's hand, as 
 some shy troubadour might have done in olden time. 
 
 "What is it?" she asked. "Oh, I can't make out 
 these words." 
 
 " It's . . . it's a secret . . . I'll tell you some day," he 
 murmured awkwardly. "I ... I want you to keep it." 
 
 The course of that twilight romance had not been un- 
 broken by rough shocks and perils ; but hitherto they had 
 escaped shipwreck. Now the inevitable fell at last, and 
 out of the bushes by the bower stepped two men, who 
 stared at them with puzzled dismay. So profound had 
 been the emotion of their young loves that the sounds of 
 the common world had been as silence. 
 
 " Laura ! " cried a voice. 
 
 Laura started, flushed, and trembled ; the boy clenched 
 his fists, panted, and contracted his face in a scowl. The 
 unwelcome guests drew nearer. 
 
 "Who is this, Laura? " asked one of the men sternly. 
 The other exclaimed 
 
 " Bless me, young Merivale ! " 
 
 Godfrey had self-command enough to perceive now that 
 this was Doctor Cordery, bareheaded and smiling. 
 
 "What are you doing?" demanded the younger man
 
 24 GODFREY MERIVALE 
 
 of poor Laura, and noticed the paper in her fingers. He 
 took it sharply, and held it well into the dwindling light. 
 "What rubbish is this?" he said, without much confi- 
 dence in his voice as to what it might be. " It's Latin," 
 he said. 
 
 " Let me see, Colonel," suggested the doctor, and both 
 pored over the delicate offspring of Godfrey's perfervid 
 imagination. 
 
 " ' Laus Amtcae,'" read the Colonel, stumbling in his 
 syllables. " Why what's this ? " 
 
 "A very delicate way of putting it," said the doctor 
 approvingly. " It is a love-poem, Colonel, and you will 
 observe that the heading is modest, Praise of my friend, 
 eh, or mistress. This is no rant ; how does it go on? 
 
 ' Semper amatricis Laurae ridentibus ora, 
 Luminibus niveo et pectore rubra meae.' 
 
 "Not so bad, but when I was at school I should have 
 been told it was too packed. Still, the meaning's clear, 
 Sebright." 
 
 "But I'm blest," said the Colonel, fitting his eyeglass 
 on his nose more firmly " I'm blest if I know. Oh yes, 
 I see ; there's Laura in it. I suppose someone ..." 
 
 "A delicate compliment to your daughter, Sebright," 
 said Doctor Cordery. " Let us English it thus : ' Oh, my 
 Laura hath ever laughing eyes, her lips are red as a 
 berry ..." 
 
 "Oh, but come," protested the Colonel with some 
 asperity, "pectore you know. There's something about 
 pectore . . . That's really going too far." 
 
 "I was about to finish. ' And her bosom is white as 
 snoiu,' " continued the doctor. 
 
 ' ' I say, I say ! " protested the Colonel severely. ' ' That's 
 just what I meant. ' Pectore ' ! Who the deuce has a 
 right . . . and how does he know that ..." 
 
 " Here stands the author, I've no doubt. Let us ask
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE 25 
 
 him," suggested Doctor Cordery, with a wave of his hand 
 towards Godfrey, who stood dumbfoundered, rooted to 
 the spot in terror and shame. How he hated that bald 
 head ! He was gooseflesh from head to foot. The Colonel 
 cast a glance at him, which was cast back with great 
 bitterness. He returned to his studies. 
 
 " How does it go on now, Cordery? Let's see if I've 
 forgotten my Latin? ' Ac velut Aglaiae quae despicit 
 aethere summed Let's see, ' And ..." What's 
 ' velut ' ? " 
 
 " ' Like as,' is the most poetical version I know," said 
 the doctor humorously. 
 
 "To be sure," assented the Colonel; "I always mix 
 ' velut ' up with . . . with something else. Well, you 
 go on." 
 
 " ' And with what beauty Aglaia looks down from her 
 seat on high heaven , with such does my love's face shine 
 upon me/' Am I not right?" asked the doctor, address- 
 ing Godfrey politely. 
 
 The boy's scowl should have stabbed him to the heart, 
 and perhaps it did fluster him, for he went on, " Well, 
 then comes a confusion of simile, which we need not go 
 into and a false quantity, I regret to say, which we will 
 omit. Inspiration cannot be expected to last out always, 
 not even through six lines. You'll remember that if you 
 read your Wordsworth, Colonel." 
 
 "Of course, of course," agreed the Colonel, whose 
 brows were bent upon his tough work. "What's this? 
 I don't seem to recognise so many words as I had thought 
 I should. There's something about virgo. Of course I 
 know that." 
 
 " Let me see," said the doctor, who was enjoying 
 himself, " ' I beg, Cytherea, that you will keep my darling 
 a . . .' well . . . we . . . well, it seems a sort of 
 petition to Cytherea," he went on, with a little awkward- 
 ness, "to keep his lady-love . . . true to him."
 
 26 GODFREY MERIVALE 
 
 "Oh, I see," said the Colonel, "that's the ' virgo 
 intemerata^ I suppose." 
 
 "Well, yes, virginal . . . keep her virginal was the 
 idea," explained the doctor. 
 
 ' ' Then what does ' intemerata ' mean ? " asked the 
 bewildered Colonel. 
 
 "Ah, that ..." said the doctor quickly, "it's rather 
 difficult to find a proper English equivalent. The idea is, 
 'unspotted from the world,' eh? And the reason given 
 we have in the pentameter, ''Because she hath hair and 
 countenance like unto the Jiair and face of Trivia.' Who 
 the deuce is Trivia ? Ah, that must be Diana, ' Queen and 
 Huntress,' you know, Sebright, 'chaste and fair.' " 
 
 The Colonel's slow wits digested and assimilated the 
 significance of these lines. " What the deuce," he said 
 "what the devil does the young beast mean by praying 
 that she remains a ... that about virgo intemerata? 
 Hang his impudence ! " and he glared at Godfrey, now 
 sullen and sick at heart. 
 
 "My dear Colonel," said the doctor, with gentle irony, 
 "you don't object to that pious wish, do you? Surely it 
 would have been impudence rather if he had prayed that 
 she wouldn't ..." 
 
 The girl stared at the two men without understanding, 
 and Godfrey was too greatly fallen to follow them. All 
 that Laura saw which mattered was that her father could 
 not be very deeply offended. 
 
 But he frowned now. " Hang it, Cordery, I don't think 
 it shows a nice mind." 
 
 "Oh, I should have called it an admirable sentiment, 
 but no doubt unnecessary in this particular case," said 
 the doctor, with a bow of his naked head in the direction 
 of Miss Laura. 
 
 "Who is it?" asked the Colonel, abandoning these 
 questions of literary propriety. 
 
 " His name is Merivale," answered the doctor.
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE 27 
 
 "Any relation of the Merivales of Pontrack?" inquired 
 the Colonel. 
 
 The doctor shrugged his shoulders. "A side branch, I 
 daresay. He is a good boy." 
 
 " What's he doing here ? " asked Colonel Sebright 
 abruptly, turning to his daughter ; but Godfrey inter- 
 posed. 
 
 " I came here," he said boldly and defiantly, "because 
 I wanted to see Miss Sebright ; and now I have seen her 
 I am going." 
 
 Doctor Cordery burst out laughing, and the Colonel's 
 features relaxed in a grin. 
 
 "Do you come over the wall, Master Godfrey?" in- 
 quired the doctor, bantering. 
 
 His good humour affected his companion. "Well, 
 look here, my boy, don't do it again," said he; "if you 
 must come, try the front way for a change." 
 
 Godfrey's reply was sheepish, but was hardly listened 
 to ; for the Colonel, with an order to his daughter, had 
 turned away with his friend. " Come, I didn't do so 
 badly after all, did I, with the Latin?" he observed com- 
 placently. "I'm glad to see I remember so much. One 
 forgets most of what one learns at school, Cordery." 
 
 "Yes," agreed the doctor laconically.
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 OUT of his discomfiture, so profound and grotesque, 
 Godfrey, aged seventeen, picked a single consola- 
 tion ; and yet that solace was vast, or seemed so for a 
 little. The scene thought upon with gloomy disgust and 
 a shivering vanity gave some promise of greater intimacy. 
 "Try the front way for a change," said the affable 
 Colonel, a permission which was secured by the doctor's 
 apparent knowledge of the visitor. Doctor Cordery, to 
 be sure, had in no way vouched for the boy, but Colonel 
 Sebright had taken his recognition as a guarantee. He 
 was of some respectable and genteel family, no doubt, 
 and as such was indifferently admitted into acquaintance. 
 The Latin verses, too, in helping the Colonel's self-esteem, 
 had helped the cause of their author. 
 
 "That boy is very clever," said he knowingly to his 
 sister at dinner. " His verses are uncommonly good . . . 
 a distinct vein of poetry." 
 
 The Latin verses settled the doubts of Aunt Julia also, 
 who was at no time very careful or methodical. And so 
 it came about that Godfrey upon his next visit to the 
 bower of his lady did not run at the approach of "my 
 aunt's " feet. He kept his place, and grew red, stumbled 
 into conversation with the elder Miss Sebright, and left 
 an impression of gentility and brightness. The conquest 
 of her father and her aunt pleased Laura for a time. 
 It was, then, evident that this hasty, awkward, and be- 
 wildering young man was of some importance. If she 
 did not understand him, and if his attitude had begun 
 
 28
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE 29 
 
 to bore her, this was not so with others, including those 
 in authority over her. The Colonel engaged her lover 
 once or twice in a discussion of Latin verse, an engage- 
 ment out of which Godfrey appeared to come with honour. 
 
 "What have you been reading lately, Merivale?" 
 inquired the Colonel, very trim and neat, pausing in his 
 progress to the gate, "Virgil, eh?" 
 
 Godfrey was understood by his goddess to say that he 
 was going through Propertius and Lucan. 
 
 "Ah, very good reading, very good reading indeed, 
 Merivale," nodded the Colonel in approbation of his 
 choice. " Lucan's Dialogues . . . very subtle work ! Pro- 
 pertius ... let me see, that's . ah, got to Juvenal 
 yet?" 
 
 Godfrey had read a little Juvenal, as it appeared. 
 
 "Good! capital satires!" commented the Colonel, as 
 it were licking his lips over the memory of that distant 
 but luscious fare ; " very bitter writer, of course, but 
 amazingly clever. Knew human nature, Merivale." And 
 refreshed by this seasonable encounter he went on his 
 way with a cheerful nod to the boy. Godfrey, indeed, 
 found himself in considerable though intermittent favour. 
 The Colonel was neat and particular of person, but his 
 mind was egregiously untidy ; his sister, on the other 
 hand, was careless in both respects. She was at this 
 time thirty, fresh-coloured and healthy, and dressed with 
 a sense of taste ; and such was the natural prodigality 
 of her character, her mental indolence, or her absolute 
 indifference, that she invariably had the air of one with 
 whom liberties might be taken without meticulous pre- 
 cautions. Her smiling and handsome face seemed to 
 condone so much, poised as it was above that fine 
 seductive body, which, slow and deliberate in its move- 
 ments, was yet full of pliant grace. She liked young 
 Merivale, though she could never remember whence he 
 came, but vaguely imagined that he was a scholar study-
 
 30 GODFREY MERIVALE 
 
 ing for the University. It would have been the fulfilment 
 of the boy's dreams had this been the case ; but, alas ! 
 the exigfuous income of the recluse forbade the possibility, 
 had even denied him education at a public school. He 
 was clinging now with both hands to love and work ; 
 and in the new career of journalism, which had un- 
 expectedly opened to him, he saw the avenue to great 
 deeds and high offices. He basked, meanwhile, in the 
 sunshine of his young passion, much to the interest of 
 Aunt Julia, whose observation was vastly keener than her 
 intellect. 
 
 " When you grow up you'll marry, Mr. Merivale? " she 
 asked demurely, as they sat in the garden one hot after- 
 noon. 
 
 Godfrey collected himself with a shiver. "Yes," he 
 said quickly, and with the air of one who was prepared 
 to defy all mockers and scorners. " If you wish to poke 
 fun at me," said his eyes, "you'll find me indifferent." 
 
 Julia Sebright had no desire in the world to jest ; on 
 the contrary, she was pondering over this same passion 
 herself. 
 
 "Do you like tall girls or pettiest" she asked, letting 
 her beautiful eyes rest reflectively upon him. 
 
 " I I've never thought," said Godfrey. " I don't think 
 I notice particulars." 
 
 " But you should," reproved Aunt Julia, and yawned 
 faintly. " It's not a proper compliment to a woman not 
 to know all about her." 
 
 She nestled more lazily into her chair, and the move- 
 ment brought into evidence the curve of her form through 
 her thin summer draperies. The border of her frock hung 
 in a loop, revealing the tapering leg above the ankle. 
 Godfrey noticed this particular, and was conscious of a 
 wish that she would not sprawl, and so publish these 
 intimacies to the world. There was, as it were, no 
 danger of not knowing a good deal about Miss Sebright.
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE 31 
 
 But Godfrey had thoughts only for one, and eyes only for 
 her glorious face. As it fell out on that same occasion, 
 when the long day was waning, he had the opportunity 
 of a private talk with Laura. With what ironic bitterness 
 would he, who had studied Ovid, have contemplated that 
 interview at the time had he known that it terminated one 
 passionate round of life for ever! His romantic professions 
 had ceased to flatter the goddess ; she was too assured 
 of them, and very often they wearied or confused her. 
 Still, she did not refuse them, and even stimulated them 
 into new courses. 
 
 "I'm going, Laura," said he awkwardly enough, but 
 with the accents of reluctance. 
 
 " All right," said Laura indifferently. 
 
 " Good-bye," said he, and whispered, " I don't think 
 you've ever looked sweeter than to-day." 
 
 Laura said nothing, but continued to look indifferent ; 
 yet clearly with intent to provoke a further or a more 
 original compliment to her charms she stooped to tie her 
 shoes, discovering consciously what her Aunt Julia had 
 all unconsciously disclosed. By what oddness of human 
 feeling did the boy not observe and admire in the girl 
 what he had noticed and condemned in the woman? His 
 eyes were all for her face, and that, alack ! was hidden. 
 Her feet, and all that was part of her, no doubt were 
 wondrous and beautiful. But her face expressed that 
 divinity which was resident in her ; it glowed or sparkled, 
 it alone was eloquent and alluring. A boy's passion is 
 probably more spiritual and exalted than that at any other 
 age in either sex. But Laura's face was away, and in that 
 eclipse he waited silently for the return of light. When 
 she had finished with her shoe-string she turned from 
 him. " Good-bye," she said ; "I'm going in " ; and was 
 gone before he could anticipate, and without the usual 
 ceremonies. 
 
 The tragic scene which closed this comedy was enacted
 
 32 GODFREY MERIVALE 
 
 a week later. Godfrey, at a time which had become 
 consecrated to him by custom and the indulgence of Aunt 
 Julia, knocked on the gate of the garden in vain. He 
 wrenched the handle, but the key had been turned upon 
 the other side ; and this remarkable and unprecedented 
 rebuff made him pause and wonder. Was the family 
 away, and was the house in charge of janitors of lock 
 and key? He had almost resolved to go round to the 
 front, by which entrance he had already been invited 
 by the Colonel, to seek admittance, when he was aware 
 of voices over the wall. He called out 
 
 " Laura! Laura! " 
 
 Footsteps were at the gate and there was whispering. 
 
 "Who's there?" demanded the sweet accents of his 
 nymph and lady. 
 
 " Me, Godfrey," he returned, perplexed. 
 
 "You can't come in," she called in a higher tone than 
 seemed necessary. 
 
 "What's the matter? It's me," called poor Godfrey, 
 his heart all a-flutter. 
 
 "You can't come in, and that's enough," cried back 
 that sibilant and unrecognisable voice. " Go away ! " 
 
 Was this some jest or whim of that fair maiden ? The 
 voices in communion puzzled him, and held him silent. 
 He heard a male laugh, and it bewildered him, it maddened 
 him. 
 
 "I must come in!" he said, shaking the handle. 
 " Laura ! " 
 
 " Tell him to go to pot," said a male voice. 
 
 " Go away ! " screamed the goddess ; "you can't come 
 in. Sir George Sutton's sons are here. We don't want 
 you." 
 
 This repudiation struck Godfrey dumb, and for a 
 moment still. Then he leaped at the wall, and scrambled 
 up till his eyes overreached the garden. Below him, 
 already turning away into the shrubbery, were two lanky
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE 33 
 
 youths and . . . Laura ! He jumped to the ground, and 
 the sound of his fall arrested the others. Laura's face 
 was alive with contempt and scorn. 
 
 " Who is it, Laura? " asked one of the lanky youths. 
 
 "Oh," said she coldly, "it's a person who has come 
 over the wall. I don't want anything to do with that sort 
 of person." 
 
 " Let's clear the cad out," suggested the second lanky 
 youth, with the lofty assumption of British superiority. 
 
 The brothers advanced, but in that instant every drop 
 of Merivale blood, so long pale from disuse, ran red and 
 warm, and with a stride Fate was upon the unhappy 
 champions. They rolled ungainly on the grass, and one 
 ran blood at the nose. The sight of that outrage roused 
 Laura, and it may be that the ensanguined countenance 
 of one of her misguided knights touched her maiden heart. 
 She sprang forward within three paces of the panting and 
 defiant Godfrey, whose fists were still clenched. 
 
 "You you beast, I hate you! You beast!" she 
 screamed. 
 
 He dropped his hands, stared at her unintelligently, 
 and finally walked away, reclimbing those heights by 
 which he had once (some few weeks since) reached 
 Paradise. 
 
 This was not, however, the last of that terrible episode. 
 More than three weeks elapsed ere Godfrey passed that 
 way, and then it was to show himself that he had got 
 over the pain and the shame. As fortune would have 
 it, Laura met him at the end of the road. He hesitated ; 
 her eyes dropped ; she looked demure and lovely ah, 
 so lovely. He took off his hat, blushing to the colour 
 of a paeony, and she acknowledged his salutation with 
 a pleasant smile ; she stopped before him. 
 
 " You haven't been to see papa lately," she said prettily 
 and primly. 
 
 " No, I haven't," gulped out Godfrey ; " I good-bye," 
 D
 
 34 GODFREY MERIVALE 
 
 and, in fear of himself and in shame of his confusion, he 
 darted away. 
 
 Yet it is to be doubted if this would have been the end, 
 and if the strength of that passion would not have sur- 
 vived its scurvy treatment. Its fortitude, however, was 
 never put to the test ; for not long afterwards Colonel 
 Sebright and his family vanished from Cheltenham. 
 Godfrey learned incidentally that London had swallowed 
 them up, as it was later to swallow him also. 
 
 Yet that passion which had towered and fallen was in- 
 teresting in its ruins. The embers were warm, and sprang 
 into flame when fed with pitiful memories. That sad 
 forsaken garden with its long untidy grasses, its riotous 
 disorder of flowers, its ugly and neglected weeds, and the 
 broken pane in that upper window which had been Laura's 
 eye upon the street these terrible witnesses to his desola- 
 tion moved him deeply. When he was at his worst he 
 haunted the spot most forlornly, and took a wretched 
 satisfaction in these signals of his own misery. But 
 Laura, kissed but unkind, had been rapt from those 
 scenes of his life, and no news of her reached him from 
 the greater world beyond the borders of the town. And 
 so, the recollection waning with sighs, he passed through 
 work to a more perilous affair. 
 
 Hossack, the editor of the local paper, had come to find 
 his young friend useful. For one thing, he kept an eye 
 on the editor's abundant quotations, and combed their 
 luxuriant locks. Also, he corrected them. Hossack was 
 dull, patient, and sentimental, yet under this last quality 
 concealed a spirit of practical wisdom which more 
 generally belongs to the Lowland Scot. He was not 
 a romantic object for the eyes, being stout and of middle 
 age ; but he flourished a wild enthusiastic pen. It was 
 the chaster taste of the boy that began to restrain him. 
 Godfrey was now earning a living on the staff of the 
 Herald, and had already ceased to thrill with the thought
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE 35 
 
 of his Importance as a maker of public opinion. He liked 
 Hossack, but had a kindly contempt for his ignorance, an 
 ignorance which was, of course, only scholastic. Yet the 
 idea that a man of books, owning a mind stocked with 
 the knowledge of all ages, could fail as a man of the 
 world, and before the common experiences of life, was 
 a thought which had never occurred to young Merivale. 
 He grinned with superiority when Hossack misquoted from 
 Horace or opened his leader after this fashion : 
 
 " Once again we regret to have to call attention to the 
 extraordinary display of ignorance and bad manners on 
 the part of the right honourable gentleman whom the 
 wisdom of the electors rashly entrusted with the Govern- 
 ment of this great country some years since." 
 
 But the picture in his mind was the disparity between 
 the right honourable gentleman, with his culture, his lofty 
 intellect, and his noble aims, and Hossack, fat, fifty, 
 frowning over his flimsy and his ink-stained fingers. 
 This intimate acquaintance with his editor was, however, 
 some time in developing, but at eighteen he was a definite 
 member of the Herald's staff, and spent his time between 
 shaping the news for press and writing paragraphs for 
 a column which Hossack had intended as the fount of 
 witty and humorous gossip. This column, of a truth, 
 was a white elephant to its unfortunate inventor. Started 
 with a bold flourish, and loftily advertising its pretensions, 
 it fulfilled its promise but faintly. Poor Hossack 
 struggled with "On Tap," as it was styled, weekly, 
 and weakly too ; and it was with relief that he flung the 
 odious duty of superintending and inventing the witticisms 
 on his junior. Under Godfrey's hand it became a trifle 
 classical and exclusive ; the point of the jests was mild, 
 and most often required explanation. But it had the air 
 of refinement which did not displease its conductor or his 
 editor. It is doubtful if anyone but these two read it. 
 
 It was when he had fully established himself in the
 
 36 GODFREY MERIVALE 
 
 office of the paper, and was hardened to his duties, that 
 he first encountered the editor's wife. It was "press" 
 night, and Hossack was in his shirt-sleeves, grunting 
 awkwardly over a paragraph for this same "On Tap." 
 To help himself he was dictating it to his assistant, whose 
 ignorance of the people concerned had thrown the work 
 on his superior. The paragraph had not progressed far. 
 
 "Our worthy fellow-townsman, Mr. J. P. Dickinson, 
 is to be congratulated, if all we hear be true, on an 
 approaching honour. A movement is on foot to get him 
 made a Justice of the Peace, and representations are 
 being made in the proper quarters. We have long 
 followed Mr. Dickinson's career with interest, and his 
 public- spiritedness must be known to all our readers. 
 We offer our hearty congratulations, and note. . . ." 
 Here, unhappily, the editor's inspiration ceased, and he 
 looked helplessly at his assistant. 
 
 "You see, his initials are J. P.," he explained, "and 
 I thought we could get a little joke out of it." 
 
 " J. P.! " repeated Godfrey feebly. 
 
 "Yes, come, can't you suggest anything, Merivale?" 
 asked Hossack reproachfully. 
 
 "You could have J. P. Dickinson, J.P.," remarked 
 Godfrey still feebly. 
 
 " Oh," said Hossack, with impatient contempt, and then 
 after a pause, "Isn't there a song something about 
 John Robinson, J.P.?" 
 
 " 'John P. Robinson, he ' . . ." corrected Godfrey. 
 
 "Oh yes, of course. Well, then there's another par 
 I wanted," continued the ruffled editor, " ' On dit also 
 that Mr. Dickinson contemplates at an early period 
 entering the holy state of matrimony en secondes noces ' 
 . . ." So far he dictated gravely, and then, "Can't we 
 hang it on somehow ? Noose, you know, Merivale ! 
 Elevation to the bench and elevation by a noose, you 
 know. Oh, damn it, think of something ! "
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE 37 
 
 It was at this instant of time, while endeavouring to 
 concentrate his straying wits upon the pieces of this 
 unborn jest, that the vision of Mrs. Hossack appeared 
 to Godfrey. The door had opened slowly, and in the 
 piece of glass in the wall before which the editor some- 
 times combed his hair dawned slowly, as in a magic 
 mirror, a radiant face, red and moist of lip, bright of eye, 
 and beautiful in fleshly shape. The assistant's lips parted 
 in amazement, and the next moment the face in its living 
 reality emerged from behind the door, and the eyes looked 
 at him. They stared without ceremony, but with friendli- 
 ness, and a certain surprise ; then she spoke, and Hossack 
 turned and saw her. 
 
 "You, Nelly! What do you want?" he said bluntly, 
 and with what seemed to Godfrey unpardonable lack ot 
 manner or consideration. 
 
 Nelly laughed, and her laugh was sweet ; she spoke, 
 and her voice jarred on the youth's supersensitive ears. 
 It is not until later in life that we pardon accent, and can 
 overlook a looseness of pronunciation. Mrs. Hossack's 
 voice was common, but of good quality ; but when she 
 looked at Godfrey again he forgot the commonness. She 
 was of the age, not of nymphs, but of goddesses, which 
 everyone knows is something between six-and-twenty and 
 thirty. 
 
 "You haven't introduced me, John," said this vision, 
 when she had done with her husband. She was in evening 
 dress, and glowed with colour, lighting up the dingy 
 room. 
 
 " Merivale, this is my wife," said Hossack, giving this 
 unnecessary information with his hands in his hair. 
 "What about that par?" 
 
 " Are you writing for the paper, Mr. Merivale? " asked 
 the lady sweetly. " I do pity you having to stay up so 
 late of nights." 
 
 "Oh, we don't . . . only once a week," said Godfrey
 
 38 GODFREY MERIVALE 
 
 deprecatingly, while his editor pored over the sheet of 
 "copy" which he had taken from his assistant's hands. 
 
 Mrs. Hossack's eyes went above the room with an 
 expression of distaste which was not offensive. 
 
 " How you can ! " she ejaculated. " Dreadful, I call it." 
 
 "It's not so bad," declared the youth, bracing himself 
 to engage in these exchanges with a pretty woman. He 
 was not conscious how vastly fluttered he was, nor aware 
 how pretty he considered her, until she was gone. Her 
 prettiness flashed out at a word from her husband that 
 gross hog. 
 
 " Come, Nelly, get along," said the impatient editor. 
 
 Nelly smiled at the youth, whose colour was high and 
 changing. His nose had come long with growth, his 
 eyes were large and quick, and his face was falling into a 
 fine mould. It was a more delicate Merivale that looked 
 at this pretty woman than stared out of the canvasses at 
 Pontrack ; but it was one equally handsome. The devotion 
 of his gaze struck Mrs. Hossack's fancy, and she dwelled 
 on him, as if inviting him to share her distaste at her 
 husband's methods. She even went so far as to raise her 
 eyebrows lightly at him. 
 
 "Nice state of things, isn't it, Mr. Merivale?" she 
 said. " I'm sure I don't know where he gets his manners 
 not from me." 
 
 She wished him a gracious farewell, and left the room 
 in darkness. Hossack resumed his attempt to establish a 
 relation between noose and elevation ; and Godfrey trembled 
 and wondered at himself. 
 
 Mrs. Hossack was brisk and cheerful, and very much 
 taken up with life, and her feminine vivacity appeared to 
 Godfrey almost brilliant, as he came to know her more 
 nearly. Her repartee was not classical, but it was 
 effective, and he slowly realised how deeply he was en- 
 grossed in her. Nelly Hossack's common accents sounded 
 now divinely in his ears. And there was in his feeling
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE 39 
 
 something' that differentiated it from that which he had 
 felt three years since for the nymph of the garden. He was 
 grown to man's estate, and knew much that he had not 
 known in those youthful days. This, indeed, was a 
 woman, and not a paltry girl ; a woman in the swaying of 
 her gown, in the expert turn of her head, a woman in her 
 experiences, in her knowledge of life yet one who had 
 gone through much and issued forth with steady and 
 innocent eyes. For it was to him plain that underneath 
 the surface of her life were troubled waters. Her beautiful 
 eyes expressed this. She was fat Hossack's second wife, 
 and she told him that her parents were dead . . . long 
 since. Had she been offered up in sacrifice at this shrine 
 of commercial success ? Fat Hossack grew insensibly 
 into the proportions of an ogre poor fat Hossack, with 
 his commercial success of two hundred and fifty pounds a 
 year, ill to get and insecure withal ! This Hossack accepted 
 without comment the regular appearance of his sub-editor 
 at his house. 
 
 "He's a gentleman, John," said Nelly. "Anyone with 
 half an eye can see that. He's very proper in his manners, 
 and has such nice feelings. I pity him in that horrid 
 office of yours, poor young fellow," with which she got 
 up, shook her skirts, and frowned disagreeably into the 
 fire. 
 
 The office, however, was useful, not only to Hossack, 
 but to his wife, who, as the editor's wife, secured through 
 its means many privileges and entrees denied to those of 
 her social station. Hossack had an enthusiasm for style 
 and loved to embroider his articles on the common events 
 of the town ; but he was dull and had no eyes. At fifty, 
 if one has no eyes, one does not notice. In youth one 
 notices too much without eyes. Godfrey was a constant 
 visitor at Haydon Villa, and not infrequently acted as 
 cavalier to the lady. She was ambitious, she loved 
 pleasure, and she had other properties of which she
 
 40 GODFREY MERIVALE 
 
 was not fully conscious. Godfrey's face, as she once said 
 to her husband, reminded her of "some old picture." 
 Moreover, he was a handsome boy, was adoring", and 
 had a pretty air of innocence. Nelly Hossack believed 
 herself to be unappreciated. She played with the thought, 
 she skirted the margins of the pool, all unconscious of 
 the deeps of her own nature and she fell in, happy, 
 desperate, and miserable. That warm blood had never 
 suspected itself. The proximity of the handsome boy 
 stirred her. New and remarkable feelings awoke in her, 
 moving in what direction she could not say and never 
 inquired. She was tossed upon a storm of strange 
 sensations. John drank well, smoked a black pipe, and 
 came home late, and he was more than twenty years 
 her elder. 
 
 Godfrey was anxious that one who so nearly resembled 
 the goddess Juno should partake of those divine tastes 
 which all Olympians possessed. The poets were at her 
 service, and she seemed to like them. He read Swinburne 
 to her. 
 
 " Read me that again," said Nelly Hossack, opening 
 her tremulous, full lips. 
 
 " I Mrs. Hossack, perhaps I shouldn't have read it to 
 you," stammered Godfrey, swinging between the enchant- 
 ment of the music and his sense of propriety. 
 
 " Read it read it ! " commanded Mrs. Hossack. 
 
 He read it, in a voice full of confusion. The confusion 
 seemed to her to emphasise the meaning. 
 
 "Ah God, ah God that day should be so soon ! " 
 
 She sat silent, staring into the fire, and he watched her, 
 conscious now of a frightened wonder. The stillness was 
 rendered gradually in his mind as disapproval, and he 
 rose awkwardly. 
 
 " I must go, Mrs. Hossack," he said, stumbling in his 
 speech.
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE 41 
 
 "No, don't go." She rose abruptly, eyeing him with 
 bewilderment and appeal. " You must stay." 
 
 The key in the door of the hall was heard distinctly. 
 This was fat Hossack back from his crony the auctioneer. 
 
 " Yes, go," she said quickly and under her breath. 
 
 He went as bewildered as she, and endeavouring to 
 reconcile his own emotions to his own standard. No 
 doubt Hossack abused her ; she looked so pitiful ; but 
 she had been touched by the poem, despite its ... 
 Undoubtedly she had in her soul the real thing she had 
 been born out of her due class. 
 
 The comic tragedy came abruptly to its climax in a ball 
 which was given shortly afterwards. This magnificent 
 affair was by no means so exclusive as many of the 
 patrons desired. But the occasion was public, and the 
 proprietor of the Herald arranged for a report. Moreover, 
 by virtue of his good-natured offices, Mr. and Mrs. 
 Hossack were invited. Fat Hossack preferred the com- 
 pany of his friend the auctioneer at whist, and the 
 representative of that great organ of opinion, the Herald^ 
 was his sub-editor, aged twenty. His companion was 
 Mrs. Hossack, something pale and quivering, but hand- 
 somer than ever and clad in wonderful white. Nelly never 
 made a mistake in her gowns, for had she not been at 
 one time a 'prentice at the business ? Those days were 
 happily forgotten, but the skill remained. Her white 
 bare arm and pretty naked shoulders were under a cloud 
 of silken lace when Godfrey appeared to take her to the 
 Assembly Hall, but she removed the covering with 
 boldness. 
 
 " Do I look well? " she asked him appealingly. 
 
 His timid eyes sought her face and passed hurriedly 
 down her figure. There were the pretty white shoulders 
 revealed, and that gentle moving bosom. His glance 
 fled precipitately upwards to her face again. 
 
 "You look lovely," he said in a low voice.
 
 42 GODFREY MERIVALE 
 
 Mrs. Hossack laughed softly. "Oh, you flatterer! 
 You didn't ought to say that," she observed in an un- 
 steady voice ; and the lapse fell on unheeding ears. The 
 cab was waiting, and received a happy, trembling pair. 
 
 The lights and sounds of the ballroom inflamed his 
 imagination further. Woman had never seemed so lovely 
 or so adorable. There was hardly one young person in 
 that large assembly that did not render up some secret 
 charm to him ; it was as a garden of flowers, the frag- 
 rance of which intoxicated him ; and his mind spun 
 through the evening like any toper. Here were love and 
 beauty incarnate ; the assembly ball was surely the temple 
 of that Aphrodite he had once been fond of hymning. 
 This was her Saturnalia, and he was one of her devotees. 
 He enjoyed himself vastly in going merely to and fro, in 
 watching from the wall, but was sufficiently his own master 
 to take Mrs. Hossack into the supper-room. There he 
 ate little but drank a good deal, and in his excitement did 
 not notice how often his companion's glass was filled. 
 Mrs. Hossack's eyes shone, and her voice went faster. 
 Yet it was the scene that had intoxicated him, rather than 
 the beauty of any particular person. The scent of the 
 garden was about him ; he did not individualise. But 
 one frail flower hung on his arm. It was the era of the 
 popular waltz, "Myosotis," and the band plunged into 
 the mellifluous air. Mrs. Hossack's feet went to the tune 
 on the floor. He had already danced with her several 
 times. 
 
 " Let us sit down," she said quickly. 
 
 " What ! won't you dance ? " he asked in surprise. 
 
 " No, Godfrey, no," she said imperiously, and neither 
 noticed that she had given him his Christian name. Her 
 face was flushed, and she would not move her eyes from 
 him. Their glances met and fondled. Mrs. Hossack 
 sighed, and Godfrey's heart went heavily bumping along. 
 Whose fingers stole forth? He held her hand under
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE 43 
 
 cover of her dress, and it was moist and fevered. They 
 both turned their attention, as by a common thought, to 
 the dancers, and so sat in silence. " Myosotis " seemed 
 to throb out the happiness the sadness of love. 
 
 In the cab as they went home both were silent, and the 
 youth was more than silent ; for voices spoke loudly in 
 his heart. He was afraid. What had he done ? What 
 did it all mean? But there was no fear in the woman, 
 and her eyes were liquid and wistful as he handed her 
 out. 
 
 "You must not go yet," she said. " Come in." 
 
 Murmuring something of which he was hardly con- 
 scious, and to which she did not listen, he followed her 
 into the house. She turned up the gas in the drawing- 
 room and looked about her. 
 
 "John hasn't come in yet," she said, and with a deep 
 breath looked at him. There was some emotion in her 
 face in which now at last terror had a part. Godfrey 
 stood, hat in hand, helpless and abashed. What had 
 happened? There was no definite thought in his head, 
 there were merely whirling feelings, odds and ends of 
 reflections, and and something else that was springing 
 gigantic into life behind all. The fear was now not on 
 his face but on hers. 
 
 There was a noise in the hall, a noise that had suddenly 
 risen upon their consciousness, and she leaned to him. 
 
 "You will come to-morrow," she whispered. 
 
 He muttered "Yes," and the heavy feet of fat Hossack 
 were pounding towards the door. 
 
 Fate keeps her surprises very secret. When Godfrey 
 went home he was met by the servant. 
 
 "Your father turned that bad, Mr. Godfrey, that I sent 
 for the doctor, and he's gone to bed." 
 
 " 111?" said Godfrey, startled out of his reflections. 
 
 "So queer-like, he's gone to bed like a lamb. But I 
 think they always know when they're ill, Mr. Godfrey."
 
 44 GODFREY MERIVALE 
 
 The son went upstairs, looked in on his father, and saw 
 him sleeping in the glimmer of the nightlight. He turned 
 noiselessly and went to bed in silence, strange and mingled 
 thoughts for his company. 
 
 Mr Merivale was clearly better in the morning, and 
 querulous with his improvement. He demanded an armful 
 of books which Godfrey brought up from the library, 
 and was sarcastic over some blunders in the process ; 
 so that his son returned more cheerfully to his work, and 
 had space and the chance to reconsider himself in relation 
 to Mrs. Hossack. The new day had brought about some- 
 what of a revolution in his mind, and there was no doubt 
 that he held a position in a sphere of danger. It was 
 exposed to assault very easily nay, it was almost certain 
 of surrender and he burned under the influences simul- 
 taneously of shame and remorse to think so. He had 
 till the evening to make up his mind, but by the time 
 of his return, late in the afternoon, he had settled no- 
 thing, and was drifting inconclusively. At the door he 
 encountered Doctor Cordery, who greeted him in a very 
 friendly way. 
 
 "Your father's ill, and it's a serious matter. There's 
 no doubt of that, and it's no use mincing words. But 
 we can pull him through, I believe. It wants care, that's 
 all, care and . . ."he made a gesture as of one that lifts 
 a glass to his lips. "You understand Godfrey? Not 
 that, eh? That must cease, or I won't guarantee," and 
 as the colour flooded the son's cheeks he turned aside 
 to another matter. "Well, young man, and how's the 
 paper? And what does my friend Hossack think of 
 you?" 
 
 The badinage was friendly and cheerful, and served 
 insensibly to decrease the gravity of the illness of which 
 they had spoken ; and it was in a hopeful mind that 
 Godfrey sought his father's room. But here a shock 
 awaited him, for from that prostrate form streamed a
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE 45 
 
 flood of disconnected and incoherent talk. The patient 
 wandered in a world very different from that on which 
 his waking eyes opened every day. The condition alarmed 
 the young man, and sent him at his speediest for the 
 doctor, who listened attentively, showed no surprise, 
 reiterated his injunctions, and, finally, as a concession, 
 suggested a nurse. 
 
 "Yes, it would be as well," he said, "that woman ot 
 yours is not much good, and you have to be out. I'll 
 send one to-night." 
 
 Back comes Godfrey, with a rising spirit of peace, to 
 find the invalid take a turn for the better. The son sat 
 by the bed and watched, dismally reflective, while the 
 half-conscious mind still rambled, but less vaguely. 
 
 "Amabel!" called the deep husky voice, and echoed 
 " Amabel ! " till the sound had almost the effect of music, 
 because solitary and detached. Or, rather, it was as 
 the tolling of a bell, solemn and melancholy. " Do you 
 remember Amabel ? " 
 
 The question startled the young man with its deliberate 
 reasonableness, and the eyes of his father were opened 
 on him with anxiety. He had almost answered ere he 
 remembered that no conscious function of the living brain 
 animated it. But this was the point at which the patient 
 turned, and the twilight of reason passed into day, or 
 was it night lit by a full and timely moon? Repeating 
 the words he came to, and into his face the return struck 
 of a sudden life and feeling. 
 
 "Amabel!" he repeated. "You do not remember 
 Amabel, my boy," and thoughtfully, "she was before 
 your mother's time," with which he began to talk sensibly 
 of the affairs of life. Godfrey, indeed, heard with sur- 
 prise a number of questions relating to himself, his work, 
 and his wants. His interrogations were, as the doctor's 
 had been, of a friendless remoteness, by one who is 
 vaguely but amiably interested.
 
 46 GODFREY MERIVALE 
 
 "How are you getting on with the paper? . . . Does 
 what's the editor's name? still write those purple 
 patches? I observe you comb them out a good deal." 
 
 He laughed weakly, but with appetite, at some of 
 Godfrey's statements. " That man must be a liberal 
 education to you, Godfrey," he commented. He was so 
 patently himself that his son left him for an hour in order 
 to execute a piece of work for Hossack an interview 
 with an important townsman. The servant, Martha, had 
 instructions as to what was required, and seemed capable 
 of carrying them out. Her presence was dominant, 
 surely, as against a bedridden invalid. This confidence 
 was, however, cruelly abused by facts, and Martha was 
 in a state of agitation and terror on his return. 
 
 "Your father, Mr. Godfrey, he's just been awful. 'E 
 would get up, if you please, and nothink could stop him. 
 And there he is now " 
 
 "Where the devil is he now?" interrupted Godfrey 
 impatiently. 
 
 "In the libery a-reading," gasped the middle-aged 
 servant. 
 
 Godfrey pushed past her, and opened the door of the 
 library. This was exactly what should not have happened, 
 and now he felt glad that he had ordered the nurse. 
 Mr. Merivale reclined on the sofa in the twilight breath- 
 ing with labour ; his long body heaved itself out of the 
 gloom as a painful fact. 
 
 " I want the lamp lighted," he roared. " Is that you, 
 Godfrey ? Tell that woman to light the lamp. Does the 
 idiot think I can read by this ? " 
 
 Godfrey soothed him, and himself lit the lamp ; then 
 his gaze swept his father's face, which was yellow and 
 sickly. 
 
 "You should not have got up, father," he said sadly. 
 " You have overdone your strength. Doctor Cordery 
 particularly warned me against that."
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE 47 
 
 The scholar made a gesticulation of annoyance, sweep- 
 ing this remonstrance from him. 
 
 " Give me my Lucretius," said he, and Godfrey obeyed 
 him ; and while he was doing so the invalid's voice 
 melted, and he went on. " I wonder if you've ever 
 properly appreciated Christina Rossetti," he remarked 
 equably. " I don't suppose you have, Godfrey. But she 
 is very good sometimes. 
 
 ' Life is not sweet. One day it will be sweet 
 To shut our eyes and die.' 
 
 Have you got it? Well, find me Book Three. Here, let 
 me have it." 
 
 He turned the pages quickly, and, ceasing, began to 
 read aloud. 
 
 "This print is bad, Godfrey," said he presently. "Or 
 the light is. You read." 
 
 Godfrey took the book and went on. 
 
 " Animae . . . ah ey, Godfrey. Don't be ashamed of 
 your vowels," he interrupted peevishly. " Corporis atque 
 anima-e. For goodness' sake don't read as if you had 
 no ear." 
 
 Godfrey made the correction and read on. His father 
 
 " ' At jam non domus accipiet te lae/a, neque uxor 
 Optima, nee dulces occurunt oscula nati 
 Praeripere . . .'" 
 
 read Godfrey, and his father nodded his head, finishing 
 the line himself 
 
 " ' et fact fa pectus dulcedine tangunt.' 
 
 Godfrey, pass me the decanter from the cupboard." 
 
 " Father, Doctor Cordery was very particular " 
 
 began Godfrey, but received no attention. 
 
 " Now then we come to it, my boy. How does it go? 
 
 'At nos horrifico cinefactum te prope bus to. 
 Insatiabiliter deflebimus, aetemumque 
 Nulla dies nobis moerorem e pectore demet?'"
 
 48 GODFREY MERIVALE 
 
 He thundered on the concluding spondees of the second 
 line, and beckoned imperiously to his son. " Give me the 
 decanter." 
 
 " Father, I mustn't. Doctor Cordery warned me that 
 you must not have any wine at present." 
 
 With an exclamation of impatience the scholar rose 
 painfully to his feet, and, supporting himself by the table, 
 moved in the direction of the corner cupboard. 
 
 " Father! " remonstrated Godfrey earnestly, and heard 
 as it were the drone of a note in the room . . . 
 " Aeternumque . . ." 
 
 "Father!" 
 
 At his voice his father lifted his hand from the table, 
 twisted half-way round to face him, and fell with a gasp 
 into the armchair that stood near, where he lay with his 
 head back, gazing at his son. 
 
 " Father, how unwise of you ! " said Godfrey reproach- 
 fully, coming toward him. 
 
 But this was death, and the gaze of the eyes did not 
 wince nor waver.
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THIS dissolution of the schoolmaster, the scholar, the 
 bibliophile, and the wine-bibber changed the at- 
 mosphere of Godfrey Merivale's life ; indeed, it changed 
 its skies. The funeral was no sooner over than the 
 problem of Mrs. Hossack met him like a blow. The 
 colour of his views and thoughts was marvellously faded 
 since that night. Then he had looked on the presents 
 and promises of life through a brilliant rosy mist, and, 
 however deeply frightened at some formidable aspects of 
 his destiny, would have shut his eyes and opened his 
 mouth to take its royal gifts. Now it seemed that Life 
 was spelled with a big letter, and was fallen grey and 
 drab in colour. She neither beckoned nor allured him, 
 but commanded, wearing a grave face, indicating sober 
 paths of duty, and holding out only the rewards of a silent 
 self-sacrifice and a constant virtue. Yet this vision of 
 what his career should be did not appear to Godfrey 
 alarming ; he took a chaste pleasure, indeed, in viewing 
 himself in the light of a philanthropist or humanitarian. 
 Duty was certainly the first necessity, and all his mind 
 must shape itself to that end. Thus it was that the 
 pretty shadow of Nelly Hossack troubled him, reminding 
 him of past dangers so lightly regarded, and warning him 
 of awkward explanations in store. But he had a boy's 
 courage, if a boy's shame, and a boy's conscience. His 
 resolution was made before he discovered how his father's 
 affairs stood, and was maintained when he learned his 
 own destitution. Somehow he had always thought of the 
 E 49
 
 50 GODFREY MERIVALE 
 
 small income which had kept the house as inalienable and 
 permanent. The investigations of a friendly solicitor 
 robbed him at once of this illusion. Roland Merivale, 
 having expended his capital upon his hobbies, wine, and 
 books, died in debt, and that death was the necessary 
 signal for a sale of his effects. In the end Godfrey found 
 himself heir to a balance of fifty pounds, a few choice 
 volumes, and a tin box, containing documents which 
 related to the family, and had remained in their hiding- 
 place ever since the solicitor, his grandfather, had carefully 
 deposited them there forty years before. 
 
 To leave the provinces for London at twenty does not 
 seem either a very brave or a very foolish act ; and to 
 adventure the great city with fifty golden coins in one's 
 pocket at that age certainly presupposes no courage at all. 
 But to run away from one's obligations, though these 
 should be inexcusable, to " make a bolt of it," to swallow 
 the shame of what would appear to a woman either a 
 base act of treachery or a piece of cowardice, this course 
 makes a call upon what we commonly style moral courage. 
 Yet if the act were courageous, it lacked the grace and 
 air of maturer accomplishment. A train carried the young 
 man to town one morning late in the winter, without 
 warning either to Hossack or to his wife. It was from 
 his safe refuge in a Bloomsbury attic that he wrote to 
 both explaining his action. To the editor he hoped that 
 his abrupt withdrawal had not been inconvenient, and 
 spoke vaguely of pressing family matters, and an intention 
 of pursuing journalism in London. To the woman his 
 letter was awkward, friendly, shamefaced, and lofty in 
 tone. He quoted not Swinburne now but Matthew 
 Arnold, and an austere sense of duty ran through his 
 epistle. Fat Hossack answered in formidable phrases and 
 with coloured sententiousness, warning him to expect 
 little or nothing from London, grumbling at his desertion, 
 and kindly enclosing a letter to the publisher of some
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE 51 
 
 obscure paper off Fleet Street. From Mrs. Hossack he 
 heard nothing-, then or thereafter, which silence, although 
 striking him to earth with shame once more, nevertheless 
 in the end relieved his mind. During- this season of 
 preparation for his London campaign Godfrey used his 
 eyes about the town, grew familiar with its streets and 
 properties, and pondered a great deal on life and death. 
 The loss of his father had turned the current of his 
 thoughts into a very serious channel. He considered 
 deeply on the goodness of God, and the strange way in 
 which He managed His universe ; yet it seemed, in the 
 phrase of some preacher he heard, that out of the world 
 some scheme was being evolved, and that the broken 
 pieces should receive treatment hereafter. The analogy 
 of the sculptor had been the figure employed, but unhappily 
 the relics of statuary serve no subsequent purpose. The 
 prime fact that weighed on him at this time was the 
 agony of Life, which called out of every corner and from 
 all quarters of the g"lobe, called and cried for compassion 
 and restitution. Man, nevertheless, was born into this 
 planet to take his part in its joys, its pains, and above all 
 its duties ; and what Providence desired was the purification 
 of the heart through the fires of pity and sorrow. He 
 dwelled upon these thoughts and other kindred ideas very 
 intimately in the solitary hours there fell to him. They 
 resulted in the conception of a great book upon the 
 Philosophy of Life, towards which he actually contributed 
 two chapters. Unfortunately the stress of daily living 
 interfered with the work. In his attic he lived not 
 uncomfortably, but fifty pounds would not last him in- 
 definitely. He paid seven shillings a week for a bed 
 sitting-room, his breakfast cost ninepence, and he got up 
 late in order to avoid the expense of three meals a day. 
 But even with these economies he found his money 
 dwindling away, with no prospect of replacing it. The 
 publisher of the obscure paper received him in a friendly
 
 52 GODFREY MERIVALE 
 
 spirit, offered him a drink, and did nothing beyond 
 promising that he would "keep his eyes open." Other 
 publishers and editors whom he managed to see did not 
 even promise so much, but appeared to think that he had 
 better have stayed in Cheltenham. And so, slowly, ebbed 
 the little store of gold from those impoverished pockets. 
 
 But despite this failure to secure a hold upon a career, 
 Godfrey was by no means unhappy. The glory of London 
 had seized his imagination, and the mysterious influences 
 of that city entered into his blood. Vast spaces, diversi- 
 fied by hills and valleys and the signal phenomena of 
 nature, or even flat and desolate as a wilderness, dominate 
 the soul very easily when seen from some height of 
 vantage. The impression of a great city comes more 
 slowly, but as it grows it occupies the mind more 
 thoroughly. The influences which made Godfrey a 
 Londoner at heart settled in him very gradually, but 
 there were times when the fact and environment of the 
 town intoxicated him like strong wine. The dust, the 
 grime, the fog, the murky vapours, and the unclean mud, 
 the darkness and the eternal noise all these furnished 
 part of the impression which London made on him, and 
 that impression, nevertheless, was delightful. The river 
 rolled seaward under black arches and by mudflats, foul, 
 grey, and cruel ; but it was a river of romance, a river of 
 beautiful reaches, of dreadful secrets, of venerable services. 
 The houses were implacable, dull and ugly ; they pre- 
 sented harsh exteriors ; whatever they were to their friends, 
 they frowned without pity on the stranger in the streets, 
 stuccoed, dingy, spattered with mud, and inhospitable 
 with iron bars and drawn blinds. The character of those 
 houses partook of the character of the people ; they wore 
 their worst side outwards, and surveyed the by-passer 
 coldly. They were not malevolent, only indifferent and 
 drab oh, so drab and unjoyous ! But these houses, from 
 dismal tenement to dismal mansion, east or west, and
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE 53 
 
 north or south, made up a wonderful city of innumerable 
 occupations, of endless capacities, of extraordinary his- 
 tories, of infinite degrees of class, character, and means. 
 The disparity was not alarming", but fascinating. London 
 could give everything or deny all. She could be cruel as 
 Hell, and as pitiless, or, again, could lavish upon one 
 the riches of Midas and the happiness of Polycrates of 
 Samos. She appeared in different guises to all her 
 children now as tyrant, and now as benefactor, as a 
 fawner upon success, as a bitter cynic, as one vast Bible 
 of deceptions, as flatterer, as thief, as God and as Devil, 
 as the hope and desire of all men ... as Death. To 
 Godfrey, conscious in some degree of the possibilities 
 displayed by that marvellous organism of which he was 
 now part, London appeared at this time rather as the 
 symbol of a great promise. She was a kindly mother in 
 his eyes, although his sovereigns flowed fast from him ; 
 and he looked to her without question to habilitate him, 
 and to guide his feet gradually to their fitting place and 
 there erect him. This confidence, born of high thoughts, 
 was fed by the glamour of the theatre, which he visited at 
 rare intervals. The pomp and romance of the stage fired 
 him to fresh ambitions and fresh determinations. He 
 knew no one in London, yet he was not afraid. Newly 
 from his theatre he visited the Park, and, paying his 
 penny, sat and watched the men and women of the great 
 and wealthy circles of society go by. They went by with 
 every outward sign of prosperity and happiness. To be 
 such as they must be to be happy inevitably, as a law of 
 Nature. Yet he was aware of a feeling in his heart which 
 was not bitterness but rather an amused contempt ; for 
 his eyes were shining brightly inwards upon a time when 
 he too should pass by, and all these handsome people stare 
 and wonder at him. To such pinnacles soars the ambition 
 of the young, and to such a pitch does that fine vanity 
 reach. Yet when that egoism fades it is a baser selfish-
 
 54 GODFREY MERIVALE 
 
 ness that succeeds, and spreads in a heart which has 
 entertained a more delicate and considerate guest. 
 
 London was thus a wilderness to the youth, but a 
 wilderness with the promise of a garden ; and he faced 
 its blank and lowering streets, escorted by his hopes. 
 Faith was as some invisible but most tangible fairy that 
 led him through the deserts of to-day towards the palace 
 of to-morrow. The pinch of poverty might bring an 
 empty stomach and temporary depression, but could not 
 dull the lights of the horizon. These shone not alone 
 through eastern windows ; they were around him in all 
 quarters of the sky, and, while they cheered and inspired, 
 summoned him also to be about his pilgrimage with 
 diligence. He worked hard during his first year in 
 London, and sought in every direction the opening for his 
 talents. The book of verse he had put aside for the 
 present, recognising that the world was more practical 
 than it should be. Those " Carmina " might very easily 
 wait, for he was young ; but it was evident that the 
 nation had need of a philosophy by which to guide itself, 
 and this kept him at his great and grave treatise which 
 was to deal completely and definitively with the whole 
 round of Life and Death. Meanwhile no newspapers 
 gratefully offered him the liberty of their columns. 
 
 He was alone in London, and he was almost alone in 
 the world. Aunt Edith, comely and kindly, had been ill 
 during the crisis at Cheltenham, and had not seen her 
 brother-in-law marched to his last rest with the funereal 
 pomp and advertisement which she would have loved. 
 And she had not been consulted as to her nephew's flight 
 to town. Even if Godfrey had not come to entertain 
 suspicions of Mrs. Fardell's infallibility, he would have 
 shrunk from laying before her so delicate a problem. 
 But she had written from her manufacturing town to him 
 in his attic, deploring "your pa's" death, wishing the 
 boy luck, and expressing an intention of coming to see him
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE 55 
 
 when she should next visit London. " And just you run 
 down here, Godfrey, my dear," she wound up with 
 characteristic good nature, "if you ever feel low and 
 down, as there are times when one does. There's always 
 a knife and fork for you here, and don't you forget it." 
 
 But correspondence languished after this, as Godfrey 
 had no news to send her, and Aunt Edith was neither 
 fond of letter-writing nor given to continuous reflection. 
 There was no London visit, and no one knocked on the 
 attic door in that Bloomsbury by-street. And this was the 
 environing solitude when one day in early summer 
 Godfrey put on his top-hat, brushed his worn clothes 
 more carefully, and with a glance at his boots to see 
 that they shone with sufficient polish, banged the door 
 behind him, and rattled down the steps on a journey to the 
 house of his cousin, Sir Francis Merivale, Bart., D.L., J.P. , 
 of Pontrack and Mayfair. 
 
 This act was in no way an outcome of deliberate policy ; 
 rather was it a sudden inspiration, springing from the 
 fumes of a friendly lunch with his chief acquaintance. 
 The researches in Fleet Street, the reiterated visits, as of 
 some ghost that haunts those dark forbidding doorways, 
 and the beat on which those confident feet trod time out 
 of number these facts brought about some knowledge 
 of others who were bound upon a like errand. None 
 of these frank and seedy strangers who offered him drinks 
 and would have exchanged with him confidences, and who 
 damned all editors for fools in his sympathetic company, 
 made an appeal to Godfrey as possible friends. They 
 belonged to a different sphere, their voices sounded 
 strange, and their manners and thoughts were as ill to 
 seek as their clothes. Yet he was of an age to 
 sympathise, and knew well enough that here might 
 walk genius, unacknowledged and in tatters, with a gross 
 accent, moreover, and smelling of the gutter. So others, 
 at all times, even from the early records of Art, had been
 
 56 GODFREY MERIVALE 
 
 accustomed to pass their lives in company with their 
 intellectual equals, a republic of the mind, not of taste 
 nor of morals, nor even of education, but bound in chains 
 together by that mysterious property, Genius. Yet it was 
 not a perception of resident talents that awoke in him 
 an interest in Flack. Flack was an amiable, shiftless, 
 vulgar little creature, with the sharp observation of the 
 cockney, his fluency and vitality. He was the sparrow 
 of Fleet Street, but more friendly and less quarrelsome, 
 as indifferent to scruples, nevertheless, and as wanton 
 in his life. This Flack was drawn to Godfrey, who was 
 a year or two his junior, more by contrast of antipathies 
 than by mutual tastes. They were poor and they both 
 wanted work ; beyond that and the fact that they were 
 trying to get their feet upon the same ladder, there was 
 nothing in common between them. Flack had had a 
 good education at Board Schools which teach only know- 
 ledge, and his wits had enabled him to use this informa- 
 tion to the best advantage. He had acquired a crisp, and 
 what he called a "meaty" style, very different, indeed, 
 from fat Hossack's magniloquent and grandiose sen- 
 tences. 
 
 " Sauce you want, Merivale," he explained to his friend. 
 "What's the good of Classics? Damn it! Classics 
 won't write Society pars or edit a trade journal. Anchovy 
 sauce's what's wanted." "Society pars" and the sub- 
 editorship of a trade journal at present constituted Flack's 
 journalistic life, and he had magnificent hopes of soaring 
 to the editorship of the paper in question. The " Society 
 pars " he invented or embroidered in his lodgings in 
 Clerkenwell, and the readers of the weekly organs which 
 dealt in such things never dreamed of questioning the 
 accuracy of his information. Indeed, whether it was true 
 or false was of little consequence, so long as it was 
 " meaty." It was usually " meaty." 
 
 Flack's discerning eyes had noted his friend's depres-
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE 57 
 
 sion, and he it was who played the host at a " real giddy 
 lunch," as he phrased it. The giddiness was not so much 
 in the food, Godfrey discovered, as in the liquor. It was 
 chiefly a concoction of cold punch which was responsible 
 for his exhilaration subsequently, and his sudden remem- 
 brance of his distant cousin in Mayfair. With the punch 
 working in him he spoke of the relationship with some 
 spirit and indifference. 
 
 "Merivale!" said Flack. "Oh, is that the man 
 that's a member of Parliament?" 
 
 " He's another cousin," said Godfrey, gorgeously care- 
 less of this fine profusion of great relatives, "but Sir 
 Francis is the head of the family." 
 
 "Crikey! " commented Mr. Flack, and dipped his nose 
 meditatively in his third glass of punch. " I believe I've 
 written about him. What's he worth ? " 
 
 Godfrey waved his hand in a lordly way. " His rent- 
 roll must be fifty thousand if a penny," he remarked, 
 recalling some phrase that had dropped from his father 
 years back. 
 
 "Crikey!" said Mr. Flack again. "I smell a par. 
 Look here, Merivale, you do me one, and I'll work it up 
 for you." 
 
 " A par ! " said Godfrey in astonishment, but not 
 perfectly comprehending. 
 
 "Yes, something like this, you know: 'Rumour has 
 it that Mr. H. Merivale, M.P., is not unlikely to be found 
 in the next Ministry.' That will introduce it ; and then 
 about the baronet. D'ye see? I'll colour it." 
 
 "You want me to make up a paragraph?" asked 
 Godfrey, staring at him ; and then quickly, " No, I 
 shouldn't like to do that. You may if you like." 
 
 "Look out, Merivale, you'll soil your fingers if you 
 don't take 'em off the table-cloth," said Flack suddenly, 
 and Godfrey started, till he observed the good-humoured 
 grin on his companion's features. "There's no blessed
 
 58 GODFREY MERIVALE 
 
 white in this establishment good enough for your soul, 
 I guess. Let's ask the waiter," pursued the cockney 
 cheerily. 
 
 "Shut up, Flack!" said Godfrey, overwhelmed with 
 a blushing sense of shame ; and then added, as if to cover 
 his confusion, "Is he really going into the Ministry? " 
 
 "What? Who?" asked Flack, opening his mouth. 
 "Oh, that Johnny ! I dunno'. I daresay he is. On dit, 
 Merivale, you know. You and I've said it, at any rate." 
 
 The three glasses of punch conduced to a coloured view 
 of life, and more particularly of people. False dawn was 
 beaming on the horizon, and, full of his precipitate resolve, 
 Godfrey stalked westward in the afternoon, clear enough 
 of head, but still under the impulse of his spirituous con- 
 victions. He was not going to Mayfair as a beggar for 
 alms, but as an equal, as one whom his kindred would be 
 glad to welcome, and regretful that they had so long not 
 known. The house, bare and hideous to view, lay back 
 a little from the pavement, with an odious carriage-drive 
 of stones, proclaiming thereby its superiority over its 
 neighbours by its contempt of space and of the value 
 of so many square feet of London ground. The man- 
 servant who opened the doors received his card with 
 impassive dignity, and showed him into a naked ante- 
 chamber. Presently he returned with the news that he 
 had given the card to a footman, who would see if Sir 
 Francis was in. Twenty minutes passed, and Godfrey's 
 enthusiasm, as well as his confidence, waned under the 
 sobering influences of the barren walls, but he waited, 
 nevertheless, with a swelling impatience. 
 
 Sir Francis Merivale was at home, as the footman 
 knew well enough, but he was closeted with his brother 
 Hubert, and engaged in an interesting conversation. 
 Hubert had a pleasant smile as of one satisfied with 
 himself ; he showed his strong white teeth under his 
 shaven lip, and the colour was brighter in his face than
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE 59 
 
 it had been any time these ten years. Indeed, he was 
 mightily complacent, but his brother, less quick of mind, 
 was frowning as he turned over the news he had received. 
 Sir Francis lived a quiet life, mainly upon his ancestral 
 estate, and was frugal in his habits more from lack 
 of opportunity than from disposition. He was silent, 
 tenacious, good-humoured, and brusque, and a respect- 
 able husband to the wife that bore him no children. He 
 had married very early, as becomes the heir to a great 
 property, but twenty years had gone by and left him child- 
 less. It was to his credit as a Merivale that he did not 
 visit the blame upon his wife, who was not only the 
 usual heiress, but remembered the fact, and strove 
 valiantly but affectionately for her independence. It was 
 a hard task, conducted, as it was, over many years, but 
 she had succeeded in the end through a leaning to the 
 hysteric, which discomposed Sir Francis's quiet life. 
 Unlike his elder brother, Hubert Merivale was a bachelor 
 until thirty-five, and till that time, and even afterwards, 
 lived and moved as a Merivale. He had an income 
 which barely matched his needs, and kept open his iron 
 eyes upon opportunity. Hard, easy-going, and selfish, 
 he devoted his considerable talents to forwarding his own 
 interests, which were equally divided between pleasures 
 and ambitions. In the earlier stages of his career the 
 former, no doubt, predominated ; but in the later he had 
 a will still staunch enough to deny himself when neces- 
 sary. A native shrewdness, a narrowness of idea, which 
 entailed and encouraged concentration, and the gift of 
 imperturbable insolence led him into Parliament, where 
 he represented himself and the Merivale interest at 
 Pontrack. He talked well, and acted with decision, 
 and the crudeness of his nature was never visible in his 
 handsome face. Towards women that was set fair and 
 fine, but threatened unsuspected brutalities, if they should 
 be necessary ; towards men he was what he was at heart,
 
 60 GODFREY MERIVALE 
 
 but a trifle more pretentious than he was to himself. For 
 Hubert Merivale was aware of some of his defects. 
 
 He sat watching his brother with a smile. 
 
 "She's of no family, I suppose?" asked Sir Francis 
 at last. Hubert slapped on the back a collie that lay 
 near his brother. 
 
 "My dear Frank, none in the world, as I understand. 
 But what's that matter? We can spare her some, I 
 suppose. She has twenty thousand a year, and her 
 manners are excellent. She dresses with taste, which 
 is hard to do if you have twenty thousand a year. She 
 has no offensive past, and she is fond of me. I like 
 her." 
 
 " But her age ? " said Sir Francis doubtfully. 
 
 Hubert shrugged his shoulders. "We are all getting 
 on," he said. " If you will allow me to make a guess, 
 you can't be short of forty yourself, Frank." 
 
 " I understand that's her age," said the Baronet, with- 
 out regarding this. 
 
 "People will say anything, Frank," cried his brother 
 lightly. 
 
 " Not if you have twenty thousand a year," retorted Sir 
 Francis, celebrating his unusual cynicism with a grin. 
 "Well, it's your affair, or would be if ..." 
 
 "I need the money," said Hubert bluntly. "And as 
 you're not likely to let me have it, I must look out for 
 myself." 
 
 "You must remember where you stand so far," said 
 his brother after a pause. "You are heir presumptive, 
 and I make you an allowance." 
 
 Hubert's shrug expressed his unuttered comment. " I 
 can't afford to die heir presumptive," he said. "Your 
 life is as good as mine, and Alice is no more than thirty. 
 I can't remain poor for an idea which may never come 
 to anything. Give me two years more with luck and 
 money, and I'll be an under-secretary. "
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE 61 
 
 "All right," said Sir Francis gruffly, whereby his 
 assent to the match as head of the family was conveyed. 
 The matter did not hold his attention long ; nothing did 
 except his shooting and the affairs of his estate. He got 
 up, and the card which the footman had placed before 
 him fell to the floor. 
 
 "What's this?" said Hubert, stooping and picking it 
 up. " Mr. Godfrey Merivale," he read. 
 
 "What is it?" asked the Baronet indifferently. "I 
 didn't look at it." 
 
 "Godfrey Merivale!" repeated Hubert. "It's some- 
 one begging on his name. Let's have a look at him," 
 and he rang for the footman. "The last fellow who 
 came," pursued Hubert, the rising hope of his party 
 "the last fellow was an old parson from the north some- 
 where, who begged on behalf of his kids, and wept when 
 I told him that Merivales nowadays didn't approve of 
 children, in fact discouraged them." 
 
 "What the devil did you tell him that for? " asked his 
 brother savagely. 
 
 " My dear Frank, I'm afraid you've no humour. Why 
 shouldn't I ? " said Hubert complacently. " We do. We 
 haven't bred 'em for long. Look at us." 
 
 " Damn you, Hubert, do you suppose it's my " 
 
 " Don't be a fool, Frank. I'll see this Johnny," said 
 Hubert, and stalked down the hall towards the door. 
 
 Mr. Godfrey Merivale started to his feet, as Hubert 
 entered with an amused grin upon his face. 
 
 " Sir Francis Merivale? " said he. 
 
 "No, not Sir Francis; his brother," explained the 
 M.P. " Been waiting long? Mr. Merivale, I see. What 
 can we do for you ? " 
 
 " I I'm related to Sir Francis's family," stumbled the 
 youth. 
 
 "So I suspected," said Hubert drily. "What's your 
 business, Mr. Merivale?"
 
 62 GODFREY MERIVALE 
 
 " I I I don't think I have any business," stammered 
 forth Godfrey, now the victim of confusion and a rising 1 
 anger. 
 
 "I see . . . just looked in to see how we were going 
 on?" nodded Hubert amiably, his profligate face kindling 
 with amusement. "Well, we're pretty well, thank you." 
 
 " I I came to see Sir Francis, not you," roared 
 Godfrey, pale with his fury and impotent with his con- 
 fusion. 
 
 "Very well," said Hubert unabashed, and putting his 
 head into the hall, called on his brother. " Frank, d'ye 
 want to see Mr. Godfrey Merivale? Lose no time if 
 you do." 
 
 Sir Francis's heavy feet came down the hall, and his 
 bearded face appeared. "What do you want?" he 
 asked of Hubert, without noticing Godfrey. 
 
 " I'm sorry to have hastened you, Frank," said Hubert 
 politely ; " but I think Mr. Godfrey Merivale is in a hurry. 
 He has come to inquire after you." 
 
 Sir Francis, his mask of a face frowning, uttered an 
 exclamation of impatience and displeasure, as at a jest 
 he could not be bothered by appreciating. He heaved 
 himself heavily from the room, and Hubert turned to 
 the lad. 
 
 "There, you see," he exclaimed seriously, "that's Sir 
 Francis ! He's going on pretty well, too." 
 
 The next moment he was roughly jostled aside, and 
 was aware of a flying figure that broke out with a 
 passionate oath and vanished behind clanging doors. 
 
 " He wasn't such good sport as the parson," said the 
 coming under-secretary reflectively.
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE contumely of this treatment by those whose 
 blood was so near his own drove the young man 
 into a frenzy. He got no sleep that night, for his brain 
 had been excited unduly by the rehearsal of the ugly 
 incident again and again. He recalled how Hubert had 
 looked, and how the Baronet, the bearing of the foot- 
 man, and every minute particular of that encounter which 
 he could remember. He writhed in the shame of the 
 recollection, until it seemed that he must take vengeance 
 then and there, or never win back his self-esteem. But 
 there were no heads to split or breasts to pierce before 
 him, only the gimcrack furniture of his garret. A 
 Merivale sensitive to this degree had surely never before 
 been known in the annals of the race ; yet he hit back 
 in some manner after the old and hardy blood, and in 
 a way which they would be the first to acknowledge. 
 The revenge appeared very poor and paltry at the time, 
 but it was all that was within his reach. The tin box 
 was opened, the documents were studied and copied, and 
 letters were composed, most formal and business-like, to 
 the editors of sundry Peerages and Knightages. This 
 led to certain correspondence, and finally to the addition 
 of several facts and names to the pedigree of the 
 Merivales. Godfrey's documents were authentic, and 
 his descent was beyond doubt. This, then, was his act 
 of vengeance he called it later his vindication ; and, 
 vengeance or vindication, it lent itself subsequently to 
 the material and action of this history. 
 
 63
 
 64 GODFREY MERIVALE 
 
 But this raid upon his kin, conceived as it had been 
 in the vainglory of punch, had not been intended by 
 Godfrey to forward his fortunes. No doubt, had it been 
 successful, it would have done so, but at twenty-two he 
 was still too lofty for such considerations. And his position 
 in life was no better and no worse for his visit to Mayfair, 
 except that with each week it naturally deteriorated. 
 The small jobs which had dropped to him like crumbs 
 from fuller tables had been lacking of late, and he 
 approached swiftly his last sixpence. With the loss of 
 that he faced the want of the prime necessaries of life, 
 and not only the want of comforts and luxuries. It must 
 be remembered that he was accustomed to dine out at 
 cheap eating-houses, and to dine out money, not credit, 
 is required. The actual absence of money silver or 
 copper meant, therefore, gradual starvation, an enemy 
 Godfrey now began to descry with growing clearness as 
 he drew nearer. London suddenly loomed upon him in 
 quite another guise, not radiant now of promise, or even 
 flushed with hope, but pale, ensanguined of feature, 
 and displaying skeleton ribs. He endured the face 01 
 this rising horror for several days, and was summon- 
 ing his moral courage, or sufficiently reducing his pride, 
 now cowed and broken, to borrow of Flack with so 
 little hope of return, when a letter reached him from 
 Mrs. Fardell. Aunt Edith ! Why had Aunt Edith never 
 dawned on him in the light of a saviour? From the 
 envelope dropped a money order for ten pounds, and 
 there was her sprawling hand, about two whole sheets 
 of ornate letter paper ! 
 
 "It's no go, my dear," she wrote, "your uncle Jim 
 is still on his inventions, and they don't come to anything. 
 So I've never been able to come up, though I've wanted 
 to particularly to buy some dresses. And if I could 
 have sent more I would, only you haven't made a fortune 
 yet, I'll be bound. Never say die. Keep on keeping on 
 and you'll do. What about that poetry? "
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE 65 
 
 Indeed there was nothing- about that poetry to tell, yet 
 Godfrey was touched. " Dear soul ! " he cried, expressing 
 in the phrase the breadth of his London experiences. 
 He summoned his landlady, Mrs. Melton, a good creature, 
 whose placitude was troubled only by a husband who was 
 drunken and religious, and more religious when most 
 drunken. Mrs. Melton received the order with indifference. 
 
 " I can't change it, sir," she said. " There's no 'urry." 
 
 "Do you know, Mrs. Melton," said Godfrey, his face 
 burning in the ardour of his confession, "Do you know 
 that this afternoon I hadn't a penny, and I owe you three 
 weeks ? " 
 
 "It don't matter, sir. There's no 'urry," repeated 
 Mrs. Melton. "I've 'ad gen'lemen 'ere that went three 
 months." 
 
 " Take it and change it to-morrow," said Godfrey, let 
 down to earth by this indifference, "and . . ." hesitating 
 "if you don't mind you might give me some change 
 now." 
 
 With a sovereign in his pocket he remembered that he 
 had had one meal a day only for a week, and put on 
 his hat. It was then that without a preliminary knock 
 Flack entered his room. 
 
 " Hullo, old boy," said the cockney, "off anywhere?" 
 
 Godfrey explained that he was going out to have 
 supper. 
 
 "You look bad," said Flack cheerfully. "Been ill? 
 All right, I'll come with you. You can stand me a feed." 
 But at the shabby Italian restaurant he grew loquacious. 
 "Tell me, Merivale, what job are you on? I haven't 
 seen you for some weeks." And without waiting for an 
 answer he continued, "I've got something for you. 
 D'you know the Evening Comet? Well, old Stanley, 
 the sub-editor, is on the booze. It's a regular razzle- 
 dazzle he has once a quarter. And he can't hold a pen 
 then, much less think. So someone keeps his work 
 
 F
 
 66 GODFREY MERIVALE 
 
 straight. I can't do it this time, as my old man's ill, 
 and I've got to see the paper to bed. But what do you 
 think?" 
 
 " Can I do it? " gasped Godfrey. 
 
 " I should smile," said Flack, his agate eyes gleaming. 
 " Let's have another liqueur." 
 
 The "razzle-dazzle" or "bust," in Flack's meaty 
 terminology of the backslider, Stanley, did not on this 
 occasion last long, but it provided Godfrey with five 
 pounds to add to his store. Stanley, a man of middle- 
 age, with a yellow beard and benignant eyes, was civil, 
 suspicious, and most particularly formal on his recovery. 
 He thanked Mr. Merivale for his kind offices, smiled and 
 bowed, and had no doubt that the paper was all the better 
 for Mr. Merivale's services during his own unfortunate 
 "indisposition." But as he saw nothing in the manner 
 or behaviour of his substitute to provoke his displeasure 
 or feed his jealousy he dropped later into the familiar. 
 From haughty politeness and the chilling magnificence 
 of a duke, he fell into cordiality and the most extra- 
 ordinary frankness. There was nothing in his life which 
 seemed private or might not be passed in review, for the 
 most part with approbation, before his young friend. 
 Stanley was a braggart, indeed, of a crude and solid 
 intellect, a marvellous memory, and no ideals. He had 
 a drab and featureless wife, and a long family, and in 
 private life kept canaries. His family, however, belonged 
 to him only as his coat might be said to do ; he had paid 
 for it, treated it carefully when not drunk, but dealt with 
 it without sentiment. His tales made Godfrey creep and 
 struck him silent, but that silent audience after all proved 
 a recommendation, for Stanley saw in him a youth different 
 from those who were anxious to out-talk their elder in 
 fact and anecdote, and who over-shouted him in his own 
 club and pot-room. Thus he dealt out jobs to a willing 
 pen, and Mrs. Melton got her rent punctually.
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE 67 
 
 Here was the beginning 1 , then, of the public career 
 which he had marked out for himself ; his feet were on 
 the bottom rungs, and he would climb high, would climb 
 indeed to dizzy heights eventually. But in the meantime 
 his life was neither picturesque nor romantic, if equable 
 through its laxity. He belonged to the free lances of 
 journalism, which made him master of his time and re- 
 sponsible to none. Fishing among the chances of Fleet 
 Street, now that he was admitted of the brotherhood, had 
 in it a certain fascination to so young and adventurous 
 a mind. The vicissitudes were numerous, the rewards 
 various, and the prospects not inglorious or ignoble. 
 This last, this promise of the future, dazzled him, where 
 it left Flack or Stanley unaffected. Flack pursued his 
 course upon the trade organ and the society journal with 
 brilliance and indifference. The range of journalism was 
 thus gradually opened out before Godfrey's eyes. As 
 anyone that walks a stage or holds a banner is an actor 
 or an actress, so anyone who contributes to the production 
 of a newspaper is a journalist. The degrees, however, 
 are more numerous and more different than in any modern 
 calling. The qualities which are exacted in the various 
 branches of press-work, cover the whole ground of human 
 knowledge and the human mind. Fact and fancy, memory 
 and imagination, have equal parts in the equipment of the 
 journalist. The path is broad, and splits into divers 
 different ways. Both the scholar and the man of the 
 world can find room within the profession, together with 
 the last product of the Universities and the most recent 
 wit out of Whitechapel. The press, which must (to fulfil 
 its mission) be all things to all men, cannot despise the 
 offerings of any kind of talent, seeing that its appeal is 
 made to the public in its widest, commonest, and most 
 elemental conditions. Thus came Fiack and Godfrey to 
 be sitting side by side, haunting the same bars and 
 comparing friendly notes. Godfrey's acquaintance with
 
 68 GODFREY MERIVALE 
 
 others who were at the same work grew quickly, and at 
 times too quickly to allow of a proper assimilation. The 
 Radical opinions of the editor of a fierce Tory paper 
 caused him wonder and some alarm ; but after all that, 
 shameless as it was, was more conceivable than the state 
 of mind revealed by Mackenzie, with whom he was partly 
 acquainted. Mackenzie occupied the post of assistant in 
 a small way on a Radical daily, and received " a call " to 
 a similar post on a paper of the opposite complexion at a 
 higher salary. I have said "call," because it was 
 Mackenzie's phrase, very solemnly enunciated at a dinner 
 which was given to him by his friends ere his departure, 
 and at which Godfrey was present. The sentiment at heart 
 of the Scot was sorely moved during that feast which was 
 next day celebrated in the paper as " parting function," so 
 that at the last he broke down under the influences of the 
 champagne, the beaming faces of his hosts, and the 
 coloured compliments of the chairman. The man's voice 
 quavered in a great sob, and, addressing not only his 
 "dear old friend," the chairman, who had "toiled with 
 him, played with him, and had been sad and merry with 
 him these fifteen years," but also "his good friends" 
 present there "to do him such unmerited and unexpected 
 honour," he thanked God that in parting with them he at 
 least felt that he "was responding to a higher call of 
 Duty." 
 
 That duty should have dictated the extreme change of 
 politics puzzled Godfrey for a moment, until, the shouts of 
 approval dying away, he gave vent to impatience, and 
 said scornfully to his neighbour 
 
 "Why doesn't he simply say he's got more on the 
 Trumpet? we'd understand it." 
 
 "We understand it as it is, my boy," drily remarked 
 Flack, who was this neighbour ; and a moment later 
 confided to his friend, "You can never stop these Scots- 
 men once they begin like that. They're all preachers at
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE 69 
 
 heart, and what is more wonderful, I believe they believe 
 they believe what they say." 
 
 It must be admitted that this life, complex, free, and 
 irregular as it was, brought to light many unknown 
 weaknesses of human nature ; some of which caused youth 
 at first to frown, and exhibit either the heat of indignation 
 or the coldness of disgust, yet later brought only a grin 
 to the face, and last of all even passed unremarked as 
 being inevitable if not universal. A course of six weeks 
 on the staff of the Comet, during the summer holiday of 
 one of its assistants, opened Godfrey's eyes very wide. 
 It was odd to read paragraphs regarding the movements 
 of great people and to find that they came from the 
 great people themselves. " Mrs. Etcetera would be 
 greatly obliged if the Editor would kindly insert the 
 following in his next issue " was the form these para- 
 graphs took. "The Right Hon. the Earl of So-and-so 
 dined last Sunday with Mrs. and Mr. Etcetera at No. 
 Eaton Square." In scorn of such indignity, Godfrey 
 would push these angrily into the waste-paper basket, 
 which, however, brought him a reprimand. 
 
 "What the blazes are you doing that for? You con- 
 founded fool ! Don't you know that's news ? " And then 
 to his remonstrances, " Sift it, by all means, but a lot of it 
 goes in. Here, I'll show you who are pretty safe." 
 
 This was Stanley, under whose capable directions 
 Godfrey was fast absorbing the atmosphere and ac- 
 complishments of Fleet Street. But this class of work 
 fell mainly into the capable hands of a woman, who was 
 severely fashionable, visited the office usually in a hansom 
 cab, wore expensive gowns, and wrote also on first nights, 
 dress, and the exclusive "functions" of Society. Her 
 salary on the Comet, as Godfrey learned, was ^250 
 a year, but her dresses and her cabs must have eaten 
 this up, and Godfrey was at first puzzled to discover how 
 she paid her way, more especially as it was understood
 
 70 GODFREY MERIVALE 
 
 that her husband lived on her, and gave her only the 
 protection of his name. He learned (again from Stanley) 
 that the lady did not pay her way, or rather that it was 
 paid for her. 
 
 "She dresses on nothing," said Stanley, winking. 
 " Bond Street and Regent Street are ' werry good ' to her, 
 werry good indeed they are," which was Godfrey's first 
 introduction to the word Commission. 
 
 The word was to occupy a place in his thoughts a little 
 later, where it was planted this time by the ingenious 
 Flack. 
 
 Flack's dream of succeeding to the editorship of his trade 
 journal had long since dissolved into the stuff of night, 
 for an impudent encounter with the proprietor on the 
 inspiration of many "nips" had sent him packing. The 
 " bag," as he called it, interested him not in the slightest, 
 for he was certain to find a new post, and cared nothing 
 if it were rated higher or lower, in status or wages, 
 provided it left him with equal freedom. To swim in the 
 turbid tide of Fleet Street ; to be part of it, to enjoy to the 
 full all its pleasures, its drinks, its gamblings, its "shop," 
 its barmaids, and its scandals ; to breathe the air of 
 the foetid gas-lit offices, worn by the thousand feet of 
 " comps " and reporters this was Flack's only aim and 
 object. He had no ambition beyond ; and to succeed 
 among his "pals," to enjoy his spiced jest with them, to 
 swagger among them, to patronise them now and then, to 
 live his own vulgar little life on terms of good fellowship 
 and affability with his compeers he asked no better than 
 this, and no better than this was given to him. Flack 
 passed through various experiences into the office of a 
 financial paper, from which, fired by the discovery of 
 chances hitherto not suspected, he made an offer to 
 Godfrey. This was discussed at lunch in a restaurant 
 frequented by pressmen, and slowly the mysteries were 
 unravelled before the latter. Flack, among sundry other
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE 71 
 
 duties, was employed in canvassing, and here was the 
 undignified re-entrance of the blessed word Commission. 
 
 " Let us pool together," suggested Flack ; " I know a 
 lot about the City now, and we can walk it from one end 
 to the other. So much for 'puffs' at fifteen per cent, 
 commission, Merivale ; and before we're at it long ' calls ' 
 for each of us. Freeze on to a ' call ' whenever you get 
 a chance, my boy. There's a pot of money in it. That's 
 how we'll work the oracle." 
 
 This was how Godfrey understood the conversation, 
 although the details were by no means clear. He 
 gathered, however, that this road to fortune would involve 
 alleys and byways in which he would prefer not to stray, 
 the possibility of being kicked downstairs, and rubbing 
 the dust off one's breeches, and the glorious uncertainty 
 dear to Flack's heart. This man opened the book of 
 London as a romance, a romance something sordid, but 
 adventurous, enticing, and always whispering in the ears. 
 He refused the invitation politely, and Flack, in no wise 
 disturbed, pointed at a man in the corner of the room. 
 
 "See that chap," he said, with an air of reflected 
 glory, "he's a paper of his own, in our line of goods. I 
 
 daresay you've seen it. The " Godfrey didn't catch 
 
 the name. " A nice, white-faced, elegant fellow, isn't he? 
 Last week he took two hundred pounds from a promoter 
 to stop his noise, and they had a champagne dinner 
 together on the strength of it. This week he's hammering 
 at 'em again, for more, I suppose. But I say, if you are 
 going to blackmail, blackmail fair. We've all got to 
 play the game." 
 
 Godfrey avoided these depths as one shudders on the 
 verge of a precipice, and walked back to safety, and 
 the account of autumn manoeuvres. He was still young 
 enough at this time to keep some of his ambitions and 
 ideals, and, though the Book of Philosophy remained 
 unwritten, and the "Carmina" reposed in the bottom of
 
 72 GODFREY MERIVALE 
 
 his trunk, he fiddled with verse and the superior planes 
 of literature. Short stories, with a sensation (sporting 
 preferred), brought him in a few guineas, and he aired 
 his sonnets and his ballades, as one airs washing, in the 
 columns of hospitable papers which did not pay con- 
 tributors of that sort. He contributed to an eminent 
 weekly journal, which had a comic reputation to sustain, 
 and received no payment, at which Flack, in his practical 
 way, protested. 
 
 "Why the devil don't you send in a bill? I always 
 do if I'm not paid by papers," said Flack, the hack. 
 
 "Oh, I don't mind," said Godfrey, in some confusion; 
 " you see, it's rather an honour, and . . . well, you know 
 it's read by all London." 
 
 "How's that for high?" said Flack, and whistled, put 
 his hat on the back of his head, and ogled the barmaid. 
 " Give me two Scotches, honey, with your very best and 
 most expensive kiss on the rim." 
 
 Flack, however, had by this time drifted among the 
 eddies of Fleet Street, and was attached to a new Church 
 paper in the position of sub-editor. Financial journalism 
 had broken under him like a rotten stick, or rather under 
 his proprietor and editor who had passed through the 
 bankruptcy court, hardly unscathed. The Church paper 
 could not last, as his shrewd wits told him at once, but it 
 was as a plank to hold by until he found firm earth under 
 his feet. "It's all rot," said he, "I wouldn't give two 
 damned pence for an office life. I've bin most things, 
 and give me reporting after all." 
 
 Oddly enough his chance came with Godfrey's, the 
 simultaneous benevolence of Fortune. Stanley was 
 Fortune's agent in either case, and he it was who sent 
 for young Merivale. The Daily Argus, an important 
 organ of Liberal opinions, had hatched out very cautiously 
 a new idea, and in course of time would publish its 
 progeny to the world. It had occurred to the editor that
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE 73 
 
 the public might like a summary of the news before the 
 leading articles. But so deep a revolution must not be 
 embarked upon lightly, and the matter had remained 
 in abeyance for two years. Now at last it was decided 
 to commit the paper to the adventurous act, and Row- 
 botham wanted a man for the job. 
 
 "He's the manager," explained Stanley dully, "but 
 he's practically editor. The editor's a damned nuisance, 
 Rowbotham says, when he does interfere. This here's his 
 little idea ; but Rowbotham swore he'd choose his own 
 man at least. They're always planting on him young 
 Oxford fellows. Rowbotham says he's sick of young 
 Oxford fellows." 
 
 "I'm not an Oxford man," said Godfrey eagerly. 
 
 Stanley eyed him. " I'd half an idea you might be," 
 he said suspiciously. "At any rate, you know the biz 
 pretty well. Would you like the job ? " 
 
 " Well, just about the edges," smiled Godfrey, who had 
 been for some years now the associate of Flack and his 
 friends. 
 
 Thus young Mr. Merivale, aged four-and-twenty, hung 
 up his hat in the office of the Daily Argus, passing rich 
 on ^200 a year. The Comet at the same time added 
 Flack to its staff, and cast him, a full-fledged observer 
 with sharp eyes, into the streets of town for " copy." 
 
 It was on the top of this welcome news that Aunt Edith 
 came to London on that visit which had been so long 
 promised and so long delayed. Jim was "hard at it," 
 and his brother was financing him ; so that he would now 
 have his chance. " We shall soon be riding in our 
 carriages, Godfrey, you and me," she declared, laughing 
 her loudest ; and Godfrey, man of the world these three 
 years, proposed that as they could not hope for that 
 privilege at the moment, they should at least dine in some 
 state in honour at once of the visit and the appointment. 
 Mrs. Fardell cordially agreed, and Flack was joined to
 
 74 GODFREY MERIVALE 
 
 the party, as one who was likely to please Aunt Edith's 
 primitive tastes. He pleased them greatly. 
 
 The friendly distance from which Godfrey regarded his 
 aunt and his acquaintance and smiled at their exchanges 
 marked a definite growth in him of tolerance and cynicism. 
 Aunt Edith would raise money for him somehow, if it were 
 necessary, and once at least Flack had divided with him 
 the contents of his pockets. These were facts beyond 
 the assault of doubt, and as such were witnesses or 
 indices to character. The young man who had lived 
 through four years of grubby London life had become 
 less fastidious and less earnest, and was more content to 
 accept what came or happened. It tickled him now to 
 observe Flack decorously checking his conversation, but 
 with each glass of wine tempted into fresh places of 
 peril. His personal experiences, as narrated by him in 
 his unpretentious cockney, were sufficiently amusing 
 to Mrs. Fardell, a woman of easy risibility at all times. 
 Moreover, he was new, and both were barbarian together. 
 Flack, encouraged by this approbation, was incited to 
 more reckless stories, and Aunt Edith shouted. 
 
 "There, Mr. Flack, that's not at all proper," she 
 declared, wiping her eyes; "here's Godfrey looking at us 
 quite shocked. We don't talk like that up North. 
 We're very respectable. I'm afraid you're very wicked 
 in London. . . . To laugh at a poor girl because of that ! 
 the idea ! " 
 
 This skittish barbarian astonished and amused Godfrey, 
 who by an adroit manoeuvre drew Flack upon another 
 scent before he could go any further. And that evening 
 Mrs. Fardell was pensive, ere she went to bed. Her 
 shapely figure clad in a handsome dressing-gown, she 
 warmed herself before the fire, -pursuing her own train 
 of thoughts, and throwing them into speech only at 
 intervals. 
 
 " I like that young man Flack," said she thought-
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE 75 
 
 fully. ..." He's a most agreeable fellow. . . . Your 
 Uncle Jim will probably make a lot of money, but it 
 seems to come too late somehow. . . . We ain't going 
 to have any children. ... If you saw Jim, you'd see. 
 . . . And look at me! I'm not so old as some people, 
 but I'm near three-and-forty. . . . Not but what I could 
 have. . . . Well, I oughtn't to talk to you about such 
 things, Godfrey. Good night, my boy. I suppose you'll 
 get Jim's money." 
 
 "He must make it first, Aunt Edith," called out 
 Godfrey with a laugh. 
 
 Flack was equally pleased with the evening's entertain- 
 ment. 
 
 "She's a good sort, your aunt, Merivale," he observed 
 when they next met, and after a pause, " Handsome too, 
 but a bit passde. "
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 E courage of the editor of the Daily Argus failed 
 X him at the last moment. He had his idea, he had 
 secured a man, and had provided him with a room, in 
 which the tape clicked monotonously all day ; in fine, he 
 had reached the very verge of his great venture ; but 
 he shrank back from the unheard plaudits of the ex- 
 pectant country. For six months did Godfrey night by 
 night prepare summaries of the news for submission to 
 the editor ; for six months these were printed, revised, 
 and amended by their author and his chief ; and for six 
 months they never appeared in the morning's issues. At 
 length modesty could rack itself no further, and perfection 
 could reach no higher ; the column dazzled the town one 
 bright May day, and Godfrey settled down to his work 
 comfortably and steadily, henceforward. He discovered 
 now that he had mounted several rungs beyond Flack, 
 and had entered a circle of more responsible and respect- 
 able people. The human matter, however, remained the 
 same, subject only to stricter rules or more prudent 
 counsels. Age and marriage are usually sobering facts, 
 in whatever rank or calling of life ; and the staff of the 
 Daily Argus was more serious and less gay, less frank 
 and more self-controlled, than his old companions the 
 free lances, yet equally insincere and cynical. Rowbotham 
 belonged to the older school of which Stanley was an 
 example, alas ! not illustrious ; and Godfrey, after a brief 
 experience, as one who has entered by the front doors, 
 shared his dislike of the "young Oxford fellows" who 
 
 76
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE 77 
 
 were dumped upon him without previous experience, and 
 with amazing confidence in their powers. Godfrey him- 
 self had once imagined that he was fit for any post 
 because he was a scholar ; but those days were gone 
 long since, gone and forgotten out of mind, along with 
 the "Carmina" and the Book of Philosophy. If he had 
 remembered them he would have felt less impatience with 
 the "young Oxford fellows." A young Oxford fellow, 
 however, comes into this narrative merely by his absence 
 from it, and because that led to a step in Godfrey's life. 
 
 Rowbotham, with a half-burned cigar, and a frown 
 upon his dark face, walked into Godfrey's room late at 
 night with a telegram in his hand. He opened the door 
 into a further room which was occupied usually by the 
 Oxford man referred to. It was empty. 
 
 "Where's Morgan?" he asked of Godfrey, with a 
 curse. 
 
 Godfrey did not know. 
 
 "Damn them, they're holding a Debating Society, I 
 suppose," sneered the manager. " I say, Merivale," he 
 pursued after a pause, frowning deeper than ever and 
 pulling at his cigar as he studied the telegram, "do you 
 know anything of pictures? " 
 
 Godfrey began to sum up in his mind a conscientious 
 opinion as to what he did know, but Rowbotham con- 
 tinued, "Nevermind. It doesn't matter. Halward, our 
 art critic is ill, and wires me at the last minute. And 
 press day over ! These amateurs and dilettantes are 
 damned fools. There's no time to get anyone else and 
 you'll have to go." 
 
 " Where ? " asked Godfrey in alarm. 
 
 "To the Academy, of course. Don't you know there's 
 such a thing as the Academy?" demanded Rowbotham 
 irritably. " To-morrow's the Private View, but it's your 
 only chance. We ought to have had the thing in type 
 to-night."
 
 78 GODFREY MERIVALE 
 
 "But but " stammered Godfrey, "I know nothing 
 of pictures. I " 
 
 "Pooh! it's all right," said Rowbotham, soothing his 
 fears contemptuously. " I daresay you'll do it better than 
 Morgan. It isn't as if it really mattered. You know 
 who are the big pots, and report the rest." 
 
 He flung a ticket on the table, and departed more 
 cheerfully, as one whose load is lifted from him, but 
 Godfrey sat aghast. By the next day, however, he had 
 passed into a different mood, and beat with delicious fears 
 and exquisite pride. The manufacturer of summaries, 
 the reporter of dull ceremonies, the corrector of proofs, 
 was elevated to a post of trust and taste ; and, if he had 
 views, now was the hour for enlightening the body of 
 the public, and influencing national opinion. Unhappily, 
 though he had theories, Godfrey was not at all certain 
 that these were right. Give him life, politics, or letters, 
 and he would not have scrupled to publish his views with 
 confidence. But Art? ... It seemed wiser to adhere 
 to the advice contained in Rowbotham's rough words, 
 "Praise the pots and report the rest." Rowbotham saw 
 no difficulty in the way, for each picture was labelled with 
 a mark, and each number referred to a painter, whose 
 rank must necessarily be known, and numbered also. 
 Diffidently, therefore, but under the stimulation of an 
 agreeable pride, Godfrey pushed his way into the Private 
 View. Ere long he found that Rowbotham's suggestion 
 alone was practicable, for the press of people prevented 
 him from anything like a deliberate survey of the pic- 
 tures, whereas if he had carried out an intention which 
 was vaguely in his mind, and gone gravely and con- 
 scientiously through the rooms, appraising each work, 
 he calculated that it would have taken him three days 
 at least. Fate forced him back, then, on the ignoble 
 methods of the manager. 
 
 But the development of Godfrey's taste in paint is no
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE 79 
 
 concern of this history ; the Private View comes into this 
 chapter merely for its accidents and their influences after- 
 wards. The crowd of people ebbed and eddied, and 
 moved in a stream, chatting 1 , laughing-, staring, and 
 wrapped in social, not artistic considerations. And out 
 of the flood emerged suddenly a tall chestnut-haired man 
 whom Godfrey knew at once. His memory looked back 
 over a space of five years, when he had faced Hubert 
 Merivale in Mayfair ; and his blood fetching- a sense of 
 shame even from that remote period, tingled and blushed 
 in his cheeks. He stared at the advancing- man, who 
 more than once bowed and saluted an acquaintance in the 
 room, and he remembered to have read in the Argus that 
 Mr. Hubert Merivale, M.P., was to have a subordinate 
 office in the Ministry. His sanguine-coloured face some- 
 what pallid, a ready smile moving- on his lips, Hubert drew 
 near with his long-, heavy stride a prosperous, a success- 
 ful man, who has lived hard and taken much out of life. 
 His glance fell on Godfrey, and lingered there a second ; 
 he turned to smile broadly to a greeting ; his eyes came 
 back, and, noting the interest and the recognition in 
 Godfrey's face, he hesitated, doubted, and his smile 
 spread, like a signal, under the hard blue eyes. He held 
 out his hand. 
 
 "I think I know your face," he said, beaming 1 . "Aren't 
 you from Pontrack ? " 
 
 People from Pontrack had a value at this moment, 
 when a bye-election was threatened by the coming 
 elevation of the sitting member ; and Hubert had grown 
 diplomatic with years. His superficial smile hung on his 
 face during Godfrey's silence. 
 
 " Yes, I am from Pontrack ... all our family are from 
 Pontrack," said Godfrey deliberately. 
 
 In Hubert's mind the doubt swelled, and an elusive 
 resemblance in the face began to disturb him. " I thought 
 so," he said heartily. "I always know Pontrack faces,
 
 8o GODFREY MERIVALE 
 
 and I shouldn't wonder if I get at your name in a minute. 
 I know we've met." 
 
 "Yes, we've met," said Godfrey quietly. "My name 
 is Merivale, Godfrey Merivale, and I am a cousin of 
 yours. I am reporting this show for the Daily Argus" 
 
 "Oh! ..." cried Hubert, with a start and greatly 
 taken aback. "Ah . . . yes ... I ... I have rather 
 a damned lot of cousins," he explained, with fluttered 
 insolence, and walked on quickly. Godfrey's body was 
 moving with the violence of his feelings, his sense of 
 triumph, his fury, and the effort to contain himself. He 
 was hardly aware how Hubert got away, nor did he see 
 anything before his eyes again until he found there a 
 white well-ordered moustache, a grey cropped head, and 
 a trim short figure. Out of the past did his boyhood 
 come back swiftly with its aureoles and remembrances. 
 It was Colonel Sebright. 
 
 "I think, if I'm not mistaken, I know that face," said 
 the Colonel genially. 
 
 Was history repeating itself? And was he to turn upon 
 the smiling soldier as he had turned upon the member of 
 Parliament? 
 
 "It's young Merivale, isn't it?" demanded Colonel 
 Sebright. 
 
 " It is, Colonel Sebright," said Godfrey, flushed and 
 warm. " But how on earth could you remember me over 
 all this time ?" 
 
 "I have a good memory," said the Colonel, shaking 
 his hand with cordiality " I've a good memory for faces. 
 And Laura, you see, spotted you ..." 
 
 Godfrey's eyes shot in the direction of the Colonel's 
 and beheld . . . Mother of the Loves, was this Laura? 
 A sedate and pretty woman, provoking the admiration 
 of eyes that went by, modestly conscious and sweetly 
 perturbed by glances too ardent, clad with delicate 
 luxury, and breathing the perfume of good looks and
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE 81 
 
 health this was what Godfrey's gaze encountered. He 
 struggled feverishly with his hat, and Miss Sebright smiled 
 and bowed. 
 
 "Laura spotted you," continued the Colonel affably, 
 "when you were talking with Hubert Merivale. He's 
 a cousin of yours, isn't he?" 
 
 "Yes," said Godfrey glibly, and feeling a glow of 
 importance he could not analyse, and would have 
 shuddered at ten minutes since, "he's a cousin, but 
 not a close cousin." 
 
 "Clever chap," said the Colonel, emphasising the 
 statement with a knowing nod of his head. "He's 
 going to be the new under-secretary, isn't he ? " 
 
 "So they say," said Godfrey, looking at Laura. She 
 was neither tall nor short, but of an admirable figure and 
 proportion, and those expressive eyes that had dazzled 
 him into calf-love fleeted across him with a pleasant 
 suggestion of friendliness. 
 
 " You are living in London, Miss Sebright? " he asked. 
 
 "Yes," said Laura, "we live in Kensington. And 
 you ? " 
 
 "I am a journalist," he explained with growing ease. 
 "I'm on the staff of the Argus." 
 
 "Ah, art criticism must be very interesting," put in the 
 Colonel; "very interesting indeed. I'm afraid I know 
 nothing very much of Art, though I do claim to know 
 something of literature; eh, Merivale? You remember 
 the old days ? " 
 
 Godfrey did remember, and he did not disclaim the 
 mantle which had been wrapped about him, and was not 
 his but Halward's. Laura regarded him with interest. 
 She named a certain picture which had been the topic 
 of much conversation, and was even then holding a 
 group of the curious. 
 
 "Ah, so-and-so," said Godfrey loftily, "is rather too 
 strong in colour. But that's an individual taste." 
 G
 
 82 GODFREY MERIVALE 
 
 " I thought so too," said the Colonel reflectively ; 
 "too . . . too strong-, you know, eh? It's what you'd 
 call . . . too . . . too strong in colour, certainly." 
 
 "We shall look out for the criticism to-morrow in the 
 Argus" said Laura pleasantly as they separated, which 
 promise was in a sense complimentary, but also had its 
 latent terrors. But when they did part Godfrey had the 
 Sebrights' address in his pocket, and a friendly invitation 
 to call rang in his ears. 
 
 "You remember my sister, Miss Sebright? She's 
 with us still, and will be glad to see you. You were 
 a favourite of hers in Cheltenham, Merivale." 
 
 The brisk and affable Colonel melted with his daughter 
 into the moving crowd, and Godfrey looked after them 
 with an unusual sensation running in his nerves, and 
 changing vaguely the atmosphere of that cold, unfriendly 
 company. It might have seemed, indeed, as though the 
 air of that garden of nymphs had stolen out of the past 
 into the empty spaces of Burlington House, bringing the 
 fragrance of romance and the warm scents of summer 
 evenings. The hard brightness of the assembly passed 
 for that moment, and magical chances and possibilities 
 seemed to surround and invite him. It was the eye of 
 imagination opening upon life under the whip of some 
 strong feeling, and in that peep much was proffered and 
 promised, though the actual world regained possession of 
 the man's senses almost at once. Yet there is no doubt 
 that a new phase in Godfrey's fortunes was opened by 
 this meeting and developed quickly. The development, 
 in truth, was the more rapid because the society into 
 which he stepped was strange and new. He had known 
 few in London outside the circles of his calling, and those 
 few were usually men. No one makes friends readily in a 
 great town, and it was no one's business to inquire to 
 what house Merivale went after his work was done, if 
 some wife welcomed him, a bachelor's flat, or the ogling
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE 83 
 
 lights of a music-hall. Unfamiliar with the society of 
 women all his life, he had in his last four years grown out 
 of expecting to be otherwise. It was a lower caste he 
 knew, jested with, and despised Flack's barmaids, pretty 
 figures and faces from the innumerable ranks of the lower 
 classes, mild, friendly, usually prudent, and invariably 
 vain and common. The translation into a new theatre 
 surprised and delighted him forthwith. The social world, 
 which he knew, by a thousand pieces of book-knowledge 
 and by many personal experiences in his calling, to be 
 built upon a sand-bed of vanity and jealousy, and to 
 be mortared together by mutual insincerities this, never- 
 theless, was remarkably agreeable to him. Weary of 
 Fleet Street and the latent possibilities of drab or sordid 
 life, the very drawing-rooms and halls of his new acquaint- 
 ances echoed back romance. He was wise enough to see 
 in this merely a personal reflection, but he was also wise 
 enough to enjoy it none the less. That was the point. 
 This wonderful delight which wrapped him round did not 
 descend out of the skies of Kensington and Bayswater ; 
 it was not inherent there. He carried it in his heart with 
 him, in which it was bred, and from which it leaped forth 
 and enveloped him, as it were, in a profound glory. The 
 truth dawned on him with exhilaration, and he sat watch- 
 ing the idea in the fire one night for hours. 
 
 These circles were neither illustrious nor brilliant. They 
 were constituted by the culture of Kensington and the 
 solidity of Bayswater, and into them strayed meteors 
 from Mayfair and Belgravia. Yet to Godfrey they were 
 a wonderful refuge from Fleet Street and his rooms, of 
 which Mrs. Melton was no longer guardian. The 
 preliminary visit to the house in Cranleigh Gardens was 
 as the key to these pleasant evenings. Eight years had 
 brought no change to the Colonel's sister, Julia, and had 
 not even touched her mature beauty. She was as amiable 
 as in Cheltenham, as observant, and as feather-witted.
 
 84 GODFREY MERIVALE 
 
 Moreover, she liked a handsome face, and came to like 
 Godfrey's in particular. Her figure was as smart and 
 seductive as of old, and her kindly liberal eyes rained 
 their attractions. Even Godfrey, absorbed in other 
 reflections, could not be blind to them. He found the 
 people he encountered ready to accept him as a cousin 
 of Mr. Hubert Merivale, and interested, moreover, in his 
 position on the press of London, which in their ignorance 
 they considered important. It was soon evident to him 
 that a number of men danced about Laura as flies about 
 the jam, and of these he came to know one or two. 
 There was Rowlands the barrister, with a taste for letters, 
 a growing chamber practice, and the reversion, so to say, 
 of expectations from a wealthy uncle ; there were two 
 soldiers at least ; and there was Widdowson, a gentle- 
 man of fortune and experience in life and the world. Of 
 these Rowlands was at once the oldest and the most to 
 Godfrey's taste. Rowlands even took a friendly interest 
 in his career, and spoke as one who had himself written. 
 " From the outside, of course," he explained, " I'm no 
 journalist. But I have reviewed a good deal ; it's rather 
 pleasant work." 
 
 Godfrey, also, had reveiwed a good deal, for the Argiis 
 economised by employing the spare time of its inside 
 staff; but he could not say that he found it pleasant work. 
 But then he was unable to choose his books, and usually 
 had to compass a motley miscellany of rubbish. Widdow- 
 son was pale, frail, and pleasant, and deeply versed in 
 foreign literature. His tastes were wholly urban, and his 
 speech was as nice and meticulous as his dress. To him, 
 as to Rowlands and the others, Laura was charming, and 
 her aunt amiably conversational. Widdowson, according 
 to Godfrey's judgment, seemed in most favour with the 
 younger Miss Sebright, at any rate, and Widdowson had 
 a tender way with women. It was his rising dislike of 
 Widdowson that brought home to Godfrey the truth of
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE 85 
 
 his own condition. This discovery was made at an 
 evening- party given by an acquaintance in a large hall 
 a party of some pretensions, and of even greater aspira- 
 tions. Its size ran it outside the limits of privacy, and it 
 loomed in all eyes as a "semi-public function," at which 
 celebrated people might possibly be met. As a matter of 
 fact Hubert Merivale, for reasons of his own, was met 
 there, as you shall see. Widdowson hung about Laura's 
 chair, most obstinately officious, and she smiled upon him, 
 as though she liked this assertion of a claim to her. But 
 it was not her design to remain incarcerated by his 
 attentions, and her amiability was but the mask of her 
 resolution. In so large an assembly Laura was not 
 anxious to be monopolised ; that, indeed, would be to 
 miss the chances of the occasion. Widdowson departed 
 on an errand, and her gracious face summoned Godfrey, 
 in whom a tide of fury was surging unexpectedly. 
 
 "I'm so glad you've come, Mr. Merivale," declared 
 Laura heartily ; " I thought I should never get rid ... I 
 mean ..." she broke off, exhibiting an embarrassment. 
 " Shall we move away from here? " 
 
 Godfrey's mind jumped to the thought she had stumbled 
 over, and the savour of that rejection which she had 
 been too delicate to express, yet had all but blurted 
 forth, was sweet to him. He guided her greedily to a 
 different part of that great hall. As she sat down she 
 put her pretty gown to the rear of her chair swiftly, and 
 with a gentle movement of her hand. 
 
 " Isn't it hot? " she asked, looking at him for sympathy. 
 
 He noted that her colour had deepened, and that the 
 smile had passed from her face. She fanned herself. " I 
 get a little tributary breeze," s?.id Godfrey, "which does 
 not belong to me." 
 
 Laura laughed. " You are welcome," she said, turning 
 her pretty light eyes on him. "You don't talk too much, 
 as some people do."
 
 86 GODFREY MERIVALE 
 
 It was not a great compliment, but seeing that it put 
 him before those others in one respect at least, he was 
 pleased. 
 
 " But you used not always to be so silent," she flashed 
 out on him, "not when ... in Cheltenham. Do you 
 remember how you used to discuss Latin and Greek with 
 my father ? " she hastened to add. 
 
 "Yes ... I do," said Godfrey, thrilling to his reins, but 
 not at that recollection. " I think I could be very 
 talkative even now," he went on, with a little, happy 
 laugh. 
 
 Laura glanced at him inquiringly. "Oh!" she said, 
 and let her eyes fall away. "Do you know that tune 
 they're playing ? " she asked. 
 
 Godfrey had no idea, and did not care. He was con- 
 scious of the rising and falling of the white roses on a 
 white bosom of silk, and the conflict of that dead white 
 with the tone of the flushing throat above it stirred him 
 to pleasure. 
 
 " I remember much from that time," he said at last. 
 
 "What time?" said Laura, opening her eyes. "Oh, 
 you mean Cheltenham," she answered herself, with calm 
 and measured voice. " I don't think there's much use in 
 remembering things so long. I have a very bad memory. 
 It wouldn't do to remember everything ! " 
 
 "Ah," said Godfrey, stimulated by her prettiness to 
 boldness, "you have need to forget, but not I." 
 
 " Need ! " she exclaimed, looking up coldly ; "I'm sure 
 I fail to understand you, Mr. Merivale." 
 
 " You were cruel, terribly cruel," proceeded Godfrey, 
 smiling. " But I forgot ; you have a bad memory, and I 
 won't remind you of that sad cruelty of yours." 
 
 " Yes, I don't remember much about it," agreed Laura, 
 with a laugh. "We were children at least, I was ; and 
 we ..." she hesitated, and a little delicate flush showed 
 in her cheeks. " Didn't we ... didn't you . . . ? "
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE 87 
 
 "I fell in love with you, yes," said Godfrey plumply. 
 There was the silence of a moment between them, and 
 the blood still hung in Laura's face. She seemed unable 
 to pick up her answer, and his eyes glowed on her and 
 fed upon her beauty. 
 
 "How foolish!" she said, with a tiny laugh, and her 
 glance encountered his ; and his was ardent, while hers 
 was a little bashful, a little shamefaced, deprecated a 
 little, and held him timidly for a brief space. Then she 
 rose, hardening into prose. 
 
 " I must really find Aunt Julia. Do ycu think you could 
 discover her, Mr. Merivale ? " 
 
 " I will try," said Godfrey abruptly, and left her. 
 
 That exchange of recollections left upon him a deep 
 mark ; it kept him in a whirl of sensation throughout the 
 evening ; and drove judicious counsels from his giddy 
 brain. It was later that while he was between Miss 
 Sebright and Laura, Mr. Hubert Merivale passed through 
 the room, a great fish in a stream of sprats and herrings, 
 seeing that the unofficial news of his appointment was 
 now the property of all the world. To-morrow would he 
 stand before them and pass through halls and drawing- 
 rooms a person of celebrity, a statesman (and no longer 
 a politician), a man of consequence on his way to the 
 peerage. And in addition to this he was his brother's 
 presumptive heir, heir to a baronetcy and ^"50,000 a year. 
 Here was surely a man of note, a person whose bow and 
 smile conveyed a compliment. The escort of the coming 
 under-secretary was witness to his greatness, and drew 
 the eyes of the two Miss Sebrights. 
 
 " Who is that? " said Julia. 
 
 "That," said Laura, with an eager look at Godfrey, 
 "that is Mr. Merivale's cousin, Mr. Hubert Merivale, 
 you know." 
 
 " Oh, the man who makes the speeches that your father 
 reads us ? " inquired Aunt Julia, and regarded him
 
 88 GODFREY MERIVALE 
 
 critically. "He's good-looking," she remarked con- 
 templatively. " Quite. Hair's rather thin, and he's . . . 
 Is he married ? " she asked inconsequently. 
 
 Godfrey believed that he was. 
 
 "Well, that's all right," said Aunt Julia, with equal 
 inconsequence, "... for him," she added pensively. 
 
 Laura looked at her inquisitively, but Miss Sebright 
 stared from her to Godfrey, and she smiled slightly at 
 him. Godfrey, however, was not looking at her but at 
 her niece, who was watching the new arrival. 
 
 "I should like to know him," said Laura eagerly, 
 parting her lips, and then to Godfrey archly, "Aren't 
 you going to say ' How d'you do ' to him ? " 
 
 Miss Sebright regarded her niece thoughtfully, and 
 from the sparkling face her glance went down the body 
 to the feet, as though noting all particulars, and summing 
 her up. Then she turned to Godfrey and surveyed him 
 with equal deliberation and composure. By the time she 
 had finished her scrutiny, she was aware that the young 
 man had started away, and was walking across the room 
 towards the group about the " celebrity." 
 
 " Did you send him? " said Aunt Julia. 
 
 Laura nodded, too eager to speak, and her aunt opened 
 her pretty mouth, and showed her white teeth in a smile. 
 
 " I'm sure he didn't want to go," she said. 
 
 " No, I know he didn't," said Laura demurely, leaving 
 to the older woman to infer, first, that Godfrey would 
 rather have stayed by her ; secondly, that at her bidding 
 he would do anything. They both watched the meeting 
 between the cousins. It was short, too brief, indeed, for 
 the dignity of this narrative. 
 
 Said Godfrey, oblivious of all else save that he was 
 sent by Laura, and that he raised himself in her eyes by 
 this wild, rash act said Godfrey, "Mr. Merivale, how 
 do you do? You remember me? Last time we met at 
 the Academy Private View."
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE 89 
 
 Hubert looked up from his companion and recognised 
 him. His cool eyes saw an excited visage, in which the 
 eyes were not cool, but burning, as though under the 
 reign of drink. He surveyed him with idle indifference 
 for a moment, and then replied 
 
 "Why, yes, to be sure," he said cheerily. "Come to 
 report the party? They really should not trust you 
 reporters with champagne," and taking his friend's arm 
 moved on. 
 
 The flame that was not of champagne died in Godfrey's 
 eyes, and he felt the pumping of his heart. That open 
 and insolent outrage rekindled in his soul fires long since 
 fallen in ashes, and under the breath of a new passion 
 his whole being was wrapped in a conflagration. But 
 he did nothing and said nothing, turned mechanically 
 about, and with a simulated smile upon his lips went 
 slowly towards Laura and her aunt. There sat the lady 
 who had dropped her glove among the hazards of the 
 arena, and she met him with smiling looks. Indeed he 
 had accomplished the task she had set him, but at what 
 a cost to himself! yes, and even at some eventual cost 
 to Hubert Merivale. 
 
 "You didn't stay long," she said reproachfully. 
 
 "No," said Godfrey, with a false laugh; "he's in a 
 hurry, and rather a bad temper." 
 
 It was Julia Sebright who saw the new flame in the 
 young man's eyes, and wondered ; but she thought he 
 was the handsomer for it. Laura saw nothing. Laura 
 never saw anything that was of no use or interest to 
 her. Nevertheless the hero of the evening, in despite 
 of Widdowson, was privileged to attend the ladies to 
 their brougham ; and soft shafts through the gloom, and 
 a gentle pressure of fingers, softly lingering (he would 
 swear), constituted the reward which Godfrey took grate- 
 fully. 
 
 It may very well be that this kindness, falling more
 
 90 GODFREY MERIVALE 
 
 freshly upon him, helped to disperse the shame of his 
 encounter with Hubert Merivale. His soul was too full 
 to suffer any intrusion on the part of that crude and cruel 
 personality. It soared to skies unknown, as once in 
 youth and May ; it gleamed to gold in the flames of the 
 fire which burned slowly out that warm autumn night. 
 The discovery had taken on the glories of the rainbow, 
 and was miraculous. He could see now how that doctrine 
 about "affinity" had arisen, and that there was much 
 truth in it. As the iron is drawn by the lode, so was 
 he carried years ago in practical childhood to the bosom 
 of this beautiful creature ; and so now, space and time 
 consenting once more, he was again hurried to her, 
 impetuous, precipitate, heedless of all else. But he was 
 aware of a difference which he could not specify. The 
 divine form of Laura hovered in his waking dreams, 
 beseeching him with that sweet deprecating smile. He 
 recalled some verses he had written of her . . . was it 
 in Latin ? He spent half an hour in search among his 
 papers, and brought the poor lines to the light of judg- 
 ment. He read them with a smile, a superior smile. 
 
 "Good heavens!" he said, "what stuff!" and afterwards 
 in tenderer tones, " Even then . . . even then ... it 
 was destiny. But I could do it better now. My life is 
 rounded with experience. I know the world ! " and his 
 eyes were accosted by a phrase, " ' Niveo pectorej" he 
 repeated. "Good Lord . . . Nweo pectore! Oh, what 
 nonsense ! Not nivetis, not candidus, not ... It should 
 be . . . I've lost my vocabulary now. But there is 
 some word. What is it? . . . ivory . . . alabaster. . . . 
 It is delicately blush . . . anything rather than white. . . . 
 Good Lord ! if I had her here I could apply the proper 
 adjective. But not nivetis . . . the conventions of that 
 poor poet, Ovid ! If she were here ! " 
 
 The thought gripped him so deeply that he was silent, 
 and a deep breath escaped him. He sat looking in the
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE 91 
 
 fire ; and perhaps this will explain that difference of 
 which Godfrey was vaguely aware. He looked out of 
 adult eyes, and, idealist still, was under the yoke of a 
 material passion, a passion not such stuff as dreams are 
 made of, but perhaps all the stronger because after all he 
 was an idealist.
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 ODFREY was in some wise acquainted with the 
 heart of woman, in certain of its manifestations 
 and phenomena, at least. This was to say he had 
 imagination, and had lived in a peopled world. Yet 
 this lore was in jeopardy at the first actual ordeal, and 
 like to prove a mere tissue of scholar's knowledge which 
 dissolved on contact with real life. He had after all 
 never lost faith in his ideals, and the goodness and beauty 
 of women was one of these, albeit dimmed and discoloured 
 by London fogs and metropolitan cynicism. Yet on the 
 breathing of Romance how swiftly did those old dreams 
 regenerate themselves, clothe themselves in new colours, 
 and shine forth in glorious iridescence ! It was the 
 transformation scene upon the stage of a human life, 
 which passes sometimes in human life also as in the 
 theatre, into the harlequinade of clown and pantaloon. 
 The passage of the winter brought spring back again, 
 and the city bourgeoned in green. The parks put on 
 their new raiment shyly, the streets filled ever, the long 
 terraces brightened under the sun and came forth in white 
 and cream like debutantes bridling at their admirers ; the 
 sombre sky lifted over the sown miles of London town, 
 and the growing warmth and light rolled back the east 
 wind and encroached continuously upon the darkness. 
 There was a fragrance abroad over the spaces of the 
 city which comes at no other season. The earth smelled 
 sweet and good of nights, and the birds sang from the 
 dawn in every garden. The great town has its fascina- 
 
 92
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE 93 
 
 tions in all changes of the year, but in the spring alone 
 is it magical, turned of a sudden and unexpectedly as by 
 enchantment, to a city of Romance. 
 
 "The sun's on the pavement, 
 The current comes and goes ; 
 And the grey streets of London 
 They blossom like the rose." 
 
 And the rose was blossoming also in Godfrey's heart. 
 For here it was now no bud, sweet and uncertain, fearful 
 of cold winds, and bitter blight. Passion had opened 
 like a flower, full and heady of scent, and red like blood 
 with strength and richness. This was no sickly dwindling 
 blossom, fostered by heat as was Widdowson's, but the 
 natural offspring of health and free air, clean thoughts, 
 and wholesome living. Each month seemed to bring him 
 nearer to Laura, and each month he grew more confident. 
 She was amazingly friendly, and leaned on him. Vain, 
 frivolous, and astute she might be, but she was also 
 fond of good looks, and loved to thrill before the admira- 
 tion in fine eyes. Of all her admirers there was none 
 pleased her young fancy like Godfrey, the old lover whom 
 she had accepted eight years before and discarded so 
 cruelly. She had admitted her cruelty, for they had long 
 since reached a point at which references might be made 
 to those old days. Godfrey was fond of fetching memories 
 from the misty past, and Laura endured it with admirable 
 and demure patience. He had begged that he might call 
 her Laura. 
 
 "Well, I suppose you may," she had replied with a 
 pretty little laugh, " as we knew each other as children." 
 
 "Then you are Laura to me," he cried, "as you were 
 always," and repeated the name lovingly. 
 
 She eyed him with some doubt. " I don't think I should 
 let you," she said, pondering. 
 
 " You can't stop me now," he said, joyously bold.
 
 94 GODFREY MERIVALE 
 
 " You mustn't think " she began hastily, and ceased 
 abruptly. 
 
 "What mustn't I think . . . Laura?" he asked, 
 lingering on the name. He took her hand gently, but 
 she pulled it away. 
 
 " You mustn't," she said in a low voice. " I'm afraid 
 you take liberties " ; and, with soft embarrassed laughter, 
 "you mustn't confuse the present with the past. We're 
 not in Cheltenham and sixteen." 
 
 "No, I'm glad of it," he said, with deep feeling ; and, 
 drawn by his voice, she looked up. The expression of 
 his face fascinated her, stirring something in herself 
 correspondent with it. She stared earnestly, and then 
 looked away half frightened. She was aware in that 
 moment, somehow, of the man's passion, and while she 
 glowed at the sight of it, was afraid also. Yet she 
 lingered over the topic. 
 
 " I was very rude to you, I remember," she said. 
 
 "Were you? You're not now," he answered simply. 
 
 She wanted him to remember. 
 
 " I was cruel to you," she pursued. 
 
 " You're not now," he replied. 
 
 Laura laughed softly. "I could be. Perhaps I shall 
 be." 
 
 " Oh no, you won't ! " he said jubilantly ; and the girl, 
 watching him again, almost believed herself that he was 
 right. She edged away, nevertheless, from a definite 
 understanding, yet dodged prettily about upon the brink, 
 certain of herself and uncertain of all else save his 
 infatuation. Widdowson was deposed from his proud 
 place, and was maliciously witty at Godfrey's expense. 
 He spoke of Bottom and Titania, and was heard to sneer 
 at brute strength ; while in his most savage moment 
 he turned his anger on Laura. "There's a well-known 
 name for her and her like," he declared viciously, the satyr 
 broken out of his civil mask, " a damned ugly name."
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE 95 
 
 The solid sagacity of Rowlands was not so greatly 
 moved. He was always a trifle complacent, and regarded 
 affairs quietly. So he was able to wrap himself in some 
 philosophy for a protection, and more than once walked 
 home amiably with Godfrey. The successful rival had 
 not yet arrived at his full triumph, but expected that 
 happiness any day. His mind reverted to gloom only 
 when he considered his position and his modest means. 
 Certain additional work had fallen to him on the paper ; 
 he "lobbied," as the phrase goes, and haunted the 
 gallery to write picturesque narratives of Parliamentary 
 proceedings. The change brought his income to ^300, 
 but he doubted if Laura could be supported on 300 a 
 year. It was probable from the financial side of the 
 matter that Rowlands was looking at it when he 
 broached the question of Godfrey's career on one of those 
 nocturnal walks. 
 
 "I suppose there's no news," he remarked without 
 interest. 
 
 "Very little," said Godfrey, hugging busily to his heart 
 the cadence and interior significance of Laura's parting 
 words. 
 
 "When does Merivale get office? By the way, what 
 relation is he to you ? " said Rowlands, zigzagging to his 
 point. 
 
 " I really don't know," replied Godfrey, driven out of 
 his muse. " A cousin of some sort perhaps third." 
 
 "Oh, I thought it was nearer," said Rowlands 
 complacently, and asked next, " I suppose you're in the 
 running for the editorship some day? " 
 
 "One never knows," said Godfrey vaguely, "all the 
 office is." 
 
 "Hard hours that nightwork," pursued the barrister 
 reflectively. "Still, you have the day; and I suppose 
 there's a career in it." 
 
 " I hope so," said Godfrey cheerfully.
 
 96 GODFREY MERIVALE 
 
 " It pays? " asked Rowlands, pertinent at last. 
 
 "In a way," answered Godfrey uneasily. "Not too 
 well. We none of us get our deserts, you know. I 
 suppose there's as much in it as in a chamber practice," 
 he added defiantly. 
 
 Rowlands shrugged his shoulders. " Oh, you're aiming 
 at me," he remarked, with a smile. "But you mustn't 
 mind me. I'm a good deal older than you ten years, 
 I should guess. How long have you known the 
 Sebrights?" 
 
 "I knew them eight years ago in Cheltenham," said 
 Godfrey, reluctant but proud. 
 
 "Ah, that's where you score," observed the barrister 
 frowning; and then with approbation, "You've knocked 
 out Widdowson, Merivale ; at least there's that to your 
 credit. But I don't think it will last long." 
 
 "Last!" cried Godfrey, red and furious. "What 
 do " 
 
 "You see, though I haven't known the Sebrights so 
 long as eight years," broke in Rowlands smoothly, " I've 
 probably known them more intimately ; and in any case, 
 as he glanced at his companion, "You're not . . . well, 
 you're a good deal under thirty, aren't you ? " 
 
 " I don't care what the devil my age is," said Godfrey 
 angrily. 
 
 " Oh, rubbish, Merivale ! " said the barrister good- 
 naturedly. "What's the use of flying out?" And then 
 suddenly, "You know she's been engaged before? 
 Well, we won't discuss it if you'd rather not." 
 
 " My dear sir, there's nothing to discuss," said Godfrey 
 grandly. 
 
 "Oh, well ..." said Rowlands impatiently, and 
 muttered to himself something about "a damned young 
 fool." There was, of course, a great deal to be discussed 
 between Godfrey and his rivals, but it is doubtful if any 
 good would have come of the discussion. And despite
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE 97 
 
 his loyal denial, there was much in this information given 
 by Rowlands for Godfrey to turn over in his mind. 
 Laura engaged ! The idea shocked him, hurt him ; he 
 went down under it as a beast under the pole-axe. He 
 found himself wondering with pain if arms had been 
 about that delicate waist, kisses exchanged with mutual 
 ardour, or warm looks and tender glances had passed 
 between . . . Who was the man ? And was it true ? 
 He would have liked now to obtain particulars from 
 Rowlands, but refrained out of pride and shame. Yet 
 the thought rankled as he gazed at Laura, whose innocent 
 eyes met him, offering their silent sympathy for the trouble 
 in his face. 
 
 "You are overworked, I am sure," she said tenderly, 
 when they were temporarily alone, and breathed, " Please 
 don't get ill." 
 
 Here was reward enough for his sufferings, yet after 
 the first flush of delight at her unusual demonstration 
 the doubt returned, lodged in his brain, and festered. 
 Had she ever spoken like this, and with such softness, 
 to someone before, his predecessor, the happy target of 
 such sighs and glances ? It was quite impossible, yet he 
 dared not put his belief to the test and ask Laura. The 
 truth, if it were truth, would be horrible, and he was also 
 ashamed, ashamed of his doubts and his misery and of 
 his greedy heart. 
 
 This was assuredly not the way in which Widdowson 
 set forth to conquer. His weak but persistent passion, 
 sedulously stimulated by imaginings, could not compare 
 with Godfrey's healthy love, yet was greatly more generous 
 and liberal. The boundaries were not marked deep in 
 Widdowson's emotions ; the emotions themselves sufficed, 
 so long as they moved and flowed constantly in his some- 
 what unwholesome nature. He had fallen out of temper 
 with Laura, and with the "plain animal," as he styled 
 Godfrey ; but he was soon grinning again politely, and 
 H
 
 98 GODFREY MERIVALE 
 
 pursuing his plans with imperturbable zeal and pur- 
 pose. The mask had dropped over his face again, and 
 by whatever ugly word Laura might be known, he 
 wanted her for himself. Sometimes he thought that he 
 was as sure of her as did Godfrey. Rowlands was 
 never sure of either, but made no further effort to spread 
 his disbelief. 
 
 The household in Kensington depended largely upon the 
 tastes and desires of the girl. Life there was organised 
 for her, and not for the Colonel, who lived much at his 
 clubs, or for his sister, who was too indolent to take 
 command. She was nominally the mistress, but was 
 content to let her niece order the policy of the house. 
 She read novels, and was insatiably curious of everything 
 that came under her eye, and her quiet and somewhat 
 secret mind found observation and life very tolerable. 
 That contained and handsome face revealed nothing, 
 revealed of her personality, indeed, as has been said, far 
 less than her low bodice of her person. She offered 
 every encouragement to Godfrey to visit the house, and 
 more than once he turned to find her glance dwelling on 
 him thoughtfully, on which occasions it melted into a 
 slow and charming smile and passed away. If he had 
 stopped to think it out, Godfrey might have felt that he 
 was on terms of greater intimacy with the aunt than with 
 the niece ; her looks invited him with great and hesitant 
 graciousness to friendliness and confidence. 
 
 "Why has she not married?" asked he of Rowlands 
 one evening, in which her attractions had been more than 
 usually evident ; " why ever not? " 
 
 " She may," suggested Rowlands, insensible to despair. 
 " She's not more than thirty-seven now." 
 
 " She must have been very handsome," said Godfrey. 
 
 "She is very handsome," corrected Rowlands. "I 
 think that beauty matures. She might have been too 
 meagre at twenty. She is a wonderful figure now."
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE 99 
 
 Godfrey's eyes sought Laura. Wonderful figure ! 
 Well, Julia Sebright was well enough, no doubt ; but 
 how dull was this Rowlands, of the wooden heart, to 
 use such rapturous phrases when Laura, in the glory 
 of her slim fulness and her just height, was by ! Row- 
 lands brought no more sentiment to the business of love 
 than to his dinner or to his cigar ! It was then that 
 Godfrey discovered some of the compensations of a 
 pressman's life. These included tickets for theatres and 
 other privileges at times. That he should have the 
 freedom of closed and formidable doors impressed Laura, 
 who was sometimes glad to avail herself of his offices. 
 He took Julia and her niece to several theatres, but 
 Laura yearned with the longing of a love-sick girl, even 
 with the hysteria of a chlorotic, for a "First Night." 
 First nights were understood to be amazingly exclusive, 
 and to be present at one was to secure the stamp of 
 " fashionableness." Her triumph came when, at the 
 cost of infinite pains, not a little gold, and underground 
 influence, Godfrey got the use of a box for the opening of 
 a big theatre. Never was queen so regnant as Laura in 
 that box and in her beauty. On their return home she 
 lay back on the couch, her pearl dress negligently betray- 
 ing her ankles, flushed, breathing deeply of her intoxica- 
 tion, and gathering up her dreams of conquests. Julia 
 sat and looked at her, picking at her fan. 
 
 "What are you going to do, Laura? " she asked. 
 
 "Do, Auntie! " cried the girl, and started. "Oh, you 
 mean " 
 
 " I mean Godfrey Merivale," said Miss Sebright. 
 
 A smile crept about the pretty face. " He's very good- 
 looking," she answered evasively. "I wish oh, don't 
 bother me, Aunt Julia." 
 
 For once Julia Sebright's face lost its calm, and was 
 torn by a strong convulsion of anger. Her eyes moved 
 and flashed like stormy pools.
 
 ioo GODFREY MERIVALE 
 
 "You . . . you fool!" she said in a low tense voice, 
 and abruptly left the room. 
 
 The procession of spring had reached the full month of 
 May, and as yet Godfrey had done nothing towards 
 determining his fate. But no one asked him his in- 
 tentions, which were, after all, uncommonly plain, and 
 not to be misinterpreted by any eye. 
 
 "You will have to say something," said Julia to her 
 niece on another occasion on which the matter was 
 bandied between them. 
 
 " I haven't been asked," said Laura demurely. 
 
 Julia shrugged her shoulders. "You will have to say 
 something," she repeated. 
 
 What Laura did say conies now to be matter for this 
 narrative. Towards the end of May, a warm growing 
 May, Godfrey met Colonel Sebright and his daughter, by 
 the appointment of the latter, at the Academy. The 
 Colonel was full of enthusiam, tempered with relief that 
 the job was over, when they met in the statuary room. 
 
 "Excellent pictures, Merivale," he declared staunchly. 
 "Excellent pictures on the whole; but there are one or 
 two that are not very good one or two, you remember, 
 Laura ? " 
 
 As the Colonel's youth receded further, his culture grew 
 dumber, or, if not quite mute, of vaguer pretensions, 
 looming mistily aloft, and purporting to comprehend a 
 grtftt scope, it is true, but of immaterial stuff, incapable 
 of refutation, because intangible, migratory, and even 
 agile. To-day he welcomed the unexpected Godfrey, as 
 his daughter was in the way. 
 
 "You'll see Laura home, Merivale, eh? I've got to 
 go to my club. . . . Important committee discussion. . . . 
 Thanks. . . . Stay to dinner. . . . Can't? Sorry. . . . 
 Good-bye." 
 
 The flood of the afternoon sunshine rolled down 
 Piccadilly, and the Green Park sparkled and flashed.
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE 101 
 
 Godfrey and Laura walked gently westwards, the bright- 
 ness of their hearts outshining surely the radiance even 
 of that fine afternoon. 
 
 The park was filling insensibly with the passage of every 
 minute, for the hour was after five, and they stopped on 
 their way to sit in chairs and watch. The tide of carriages 
 went down the Lady's Mile, and foot-passengers sauntered 
 negligently by, bound on no business, and seeming almost 
 consciously to pose as figures in the scene. Godfrey 
 looked at them, but hardly saw them. He was, however, 
 aware of colours and soft sounds that passed, of the buzz 
 of wheels, and of a gay procession of stately carriages. 
 All these things were minor facts in the picture he saw. 
 They were there, sweet and pleasant, a fitting comple- 
 ment to Laura and his own passion ; as were also the 
 brilliant blossoms of the rhododendrons, and the rich hues 
 of the late tulips. But Laura, at least, was under no 
 emotion of such single purpose. Her eyes were open, 
 and nothing of interest escaped them. She examined the 
 dresses of the women, and forgot her companion in this 
 engrossing occupation ; while he was merely conscious of 
 the susurrus of life about him like the flowers and airs 
 of spring, as a background, an accompaniment to one 
 thrilling emotion. Presently he saw her face light with 
 excitement, and she uttered an exclamation. His glance 
 followed hers, and he saw that the looks of the crowd 
 leaned one way towards the Mile. 
 
 "What is it?" he asked. 
 
 "The Princess!" said Laura eagerly. "Here she 
 comes ! " and as the carriage rolled solitary down the open 
 way and between the lines of standing and respectful 
 vehicles Laura's lips parted, she quivered with feeling, 
 and her little hand involuntarily rested with a convulsive 
 clutch upon Godfrey's arm. The touch passed to his very 
 marrow. 
 
 "Did you see her?" she exclaimed, turning rapidly 
 on him.
 
 102 GODFREY MERIVALE 
 
 " No, only you," he said brokenly. 
 
 "Oh, I would give anything to be like that!" cried 
 Laura, unheeding. "What wouldn't I give to be that! 
 To feel. . . to feel . . ." 
 
 A wave of power, of assurance, of protection, over- 
 whelmed the young journalist. "You shall!" he cried 
 tensely ; " I will make you like that. Let me ! " 
 
 Laura breathed a gentle laugh after a pause, in which 
 the situation settled itself in both minds ; she looked up 
 at him, and then quickly away. Something in his ex- 
 pression took hold of her, as it had done once or twice 
 before. She answered nothing, but her look sufficed for 
 that enraptured spirit. 
 
 "We might go on now," she said softly ; and Godfrey 
 followed with happy, swelling heart. The silence was full 
 of contentment ; assuredly words were not required 
 between them, when spirit spoke with spirit, and shy 
 eyes met fervent glances. And thus they walked along 
 the narrow spit into which the fashion and curiosity of 
 London is crowded every season, and presently reached 
 the Serpentine. They came to a pause by the water, and 
 stood looking across the ruffling pond. Furtively the 
 girl's glance shot at him, and, perceiving him to be 
 soaring upon invisible wings, rested on his face. It was 
 handsome, of a fresh colour, quick-eyed, and ardent ; the 
 expression denoted usually a certain restlessness, but 
 now spoke rather of exhilaration. Laura Sebright gazed 
 at him as fixedly as she had eyed the beautiful women 
 that went by in the Mile, and with a little faster motion of 
 her bosom. Out of his rapt state he fell ; his eyes were 
 opened, and he saw that she was looking at him. A 
 smile passed between them. 
 
 " Do let us go on," said Laura, in confusion. 
 
 In Kensington Gardens they rested under the golden 
 green of a great beech, and listened to the thunder of 
 Kensington Gore. The voices of children, committed to
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE 103 
 
 the soft air, saluted them pleasantly. Godfrey, aglow and 
 speaking" gently, turned to Laura. 
 
 " You will be my wife, Laura ? " he asked. 
 
 Her gaze met him, wrapped in a sweet and friendly 
 smile. She shook her head sadly. Godfrey started, and 
 the light she had seen before sprang out in his counten- 
 ance. 
 
 " You shall but you shall ! " he declared fiercely. 
 
 " I I am not suitable for you," pleaded Laura like a 
 child. " You would be disappointed in me." 
 
 "Leave that to me, Laura. You shall. I will make 
 you," he said, stammering, but masterful. "You shall 
 be a great lady. I will make you I will make you . . . 
 like those," he vowed, pointing with his hand towards the 
 park. 
 
 Laura's breath came faster. " You think you are very 
 strong," she murmured. 
 
 "I am strong; I know I could do much for you. I 
 could do all you wanted," he said confidently, and taking 
 her wrist drew her gently but firmly towards him. Even 
 in that public place she did not wince, but her eyes 
 seemed to enlarge and deepen under his gaze, to grow 
 profound with dewy emotion. 
 
 " You love me, dear? " he whispered. 
 
 And she whispered, "Yes," believing in the disturbed 
 chambers of her heart that she did. Through their empty 
 spaces echoed an unwonted voice, and moved strange 
 visitors. But haply these were only guests that scarce 
 stayed their welcome out, and went again, not tenants 
 come home for ever. 
 
 " I knew it," he cried ecstatically, " I knew it, darling," 
 for so faithful is the instinct of this Love, poor soul ! 
 
 His kiss descended upon her willing lips, under those 
 dwindling skies, and her head rested content for a moment 
 on his shoulder. The pa;ans of triumph went up to 
 Heaven.
 
 io 4 GODFREY MERIVALE 
 
 Laura started, and, flushing becomingly, moved from 
 him. 
 
 "We can't be like the housemaid and her friend," she 
 said, tremulously gay. 
 
 "Dear," he said, "I do not care if you were fifty 
 housemaids. The world must fit us, not us the world." 
 
 " Ah, you are confident," she said, recovered somewhat 
 from that transient gust of feeling, and regarding him 
 with wonder. 
 
 "Dearest," he said, coming to earth and limping, "I 
 must tell you about myself. I am sure I can fight my way 
 to any position you would like me to win for your sake, 
 darling. But I must tell you now that at present I have 
 only about three hundred a year from the Argus and say 
 another one hundred from other sources. But I think 
 I'm sure we can " 
 
 "Oh, don't let us talk about horrid money matters," 
 interrupted Laura quickly. 
 
 "My dear, I know it is sordid," said Godfrey, with 
 sympathy, "but it must be faced." 
 
 "We won't face it now," said Laura, with a sweet 
 smile, and rose. He rose after her. 
 
 " Must you go ? " he asked appealingly. 
 
 " It is late," she said. " Look at the sky." 
 
 " Say 'dear,'" he pleaded. Laura looked away. "Do 
 say 'dear,' dear." 
 
 "It is late, dear," said Laura, and laughed lightly and 
 uncertainly. 
 
 "Your father asked me to stay to dinner. Shall I " 
 
 he began. 
 
 " Oh no ! oh no! " cried Laura hurriedly. "Not. . . 
 not to-night. I couldn't. . . . Another day." 
 
 "I see, dearest; I think I understand," said poor 
 Godfrey, thrilling under the suggestions of this diffidence.
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 THAT other day, however, was long- delayed longer, 
 at least, than Godfrey desired. He saw Laura but 
 once again ere he was despatched northwards upon an 
 important mission by the Argus. Rowbotham, pulling 1 
 at his customary cigar, strolled into his room late one 
 evening. 
 
 "You know they've put up a man against Merivale 
 at Pontrack ? " he asked ; and without waiting for an 
 answer, " By the way, his name's the same as yours." 
 
 "Yes," said Godfrey, and proffered no further informa- 
 tion. 
 
 "Well," resumed Rowbotham, "he's going to make 
 a fight, I believe, and they say a good one. You know 
 the parliamentary business now, and Graves is in Vienna. 
 I want you to go down to-morrow and write it up." 
 
 " But " began Godfrey in surprise. 
 
 " There's no one else to fill the part," said Rowbotham 
 abruptly. " It'll take you about a week." 
 
 Godfrey dropped his protest. "Very well," he said, 
 pondering. He thought of Laura with regret, but after- 
 wards of Hubert Merivale with some satisfaction. Here 
 was a good chance to distinguish himself in the press 
 world, and he believed that he could do so. The Argus 
 was hostile to the Government, and Mr. Hubert Merivale 
 need look for no affectionate handling in its columns. 
 Godfrey grinned pleasantly. "I'll go willingly," he said. 
 
 He wrenched himself from London with an effort, yet 
 remembering that through the pursuit of duty alone 
 
 105
 
 106 GODFREY MERIVALE 
 
 might he forward those fortunes in which Laura was so 
 interested. His heart bled sentiment as his hansom 
 travelled out of the hospitable and familiar regions to- 
 wards King's Cross ; but the practical business of his 
 journey soon monopolised him. When he had secured 
 his seat he bought some papers, stowed his luggage 
 away, and walked upon the platform. Suddenly ap- 
 proached from the distance, emerging out of that obscurity, 
 the figure of Flack, a big cigar between his lips, a bold 
 rolling eye, a flushed visage, and a lady of strong colour 
 on his arm. She had a quiet air, and was dressed in 
 cream and with some taste, but her blackened eyes and 
 rose cheeks were witnesses to art, not nature. Flack 
 came to a pause and winked cunningly at Godfrey, who 
 stared at him in wonder. 
 
 "Let me introduce Eliza," said Flack gaily. "This is 
 'Liza. Of course her name's not that, you know, but 
 'Liza being a fashionable name now in upper circles, 
 owing to those coster songs, I call her that. I'm told, 
 Merivale," he whispered confidentially, "that the P. of 
 W. regrets now that he didn't call his daughters 'Liza.." 
 
 His breath smacked of spirit ; he was evidently not a 
 little reckless, and the sense of perspective proper to his 
 sober moments had left him. 
 
 Godfrey took him aside. " What on earth is this ? " he 
 demanded. 
 
 "You leave me alone, Merivale," was Flack's answer, 
 with a leer. "My straight-laced young gentleman, you 
 leave me alone." 
 
 Godfrey uttered an exclamation of anger, and, picking 
 up his courage, crossed to the girl. 
 
 " Would you mind telling me where you are going with 
 Mr. Flack? " said he politely. 
 
 She eyed him suspiciously, but with symptoms of un- 
 easiness also. ' ' I don't well know, "she said ; ' ' you mustn't 
 ask me. It's an outing that's all I know. He won't 
 say where."
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE 107 
 
 " Look here," said Godfrey abruptly, "I'm very sorry, 
 but you see what state Flack's in. He's due to go to 
 Yorkshire by this train with me on a job for his paper. 
 You know what that means." 
 
 She seemed vastly taken aback. " Honest? " she said. 
 
 " On my word of honour," said Godfrey. 
 
 The girl, who had good looks and a certain air of 
 reserve which was almost ladylike, bit her lips, and began 
 to whimper. "It's too bad," she cried. "What shall I 
 do? We came out all prepared." 
 
 " If you will let me advise you, you will let me put you 
 into a cab," suggested Godfrey. 
 
 She examined him sharply, and then assented, accom- 
 panying him with complaints to the yard. 
 
 "It's too bad of Jack," she said, "and I'll let him 
 know it." 
 
 "I would, when he comes back," said Godfrey, as he 
 shut the door of the cab. " I should punish him by 
 depriving him of my society, if I were you, for quite a 
 long time. He deserves it." 
 
 She looked at him dubiously. "And my name isn't 
 Eliza," she said plaintively, " it's Lily." 
 
 "I'm sure it is," said Godfrey soothingly. "Good-bye." 
 
 She leaned over and looked him full in the face. 
 "You're a gentleman," she said. "Thanks awfully." 
 
 Godfrey smiled and nodded, and the cab drove away, 
 but out of the side window the girl's eyes watched him as 
 long as was possible. He went back to the platform, and 
 found Flack in a heated discussion with the bookstall 
 clerk over the price of the Argus. He insisted that it 
 was a "ha'penny rag," and the clerk coldly demanded a 
 penny. Flack appealed to his friend. 
 
 " Here, Merivale, here's a man wants to make me pay 
 a penny for your damned bacon-wrapper," he called out. 
 " I refuse. Do you suppose my income will stand this 
 sort of thing for long ? "
 
 io8 GODFREY MERIVALE 
 
 "Oh, come along-," said Godfrey impatiently, and 
 hurried him away. "There's only just time to get in." 
 He half dragged the unresisting Flack to his carriage 
 and bundled him in, where he fell with a bump on his 
 seat. Godfrey jumped in after him. Flack rose again. 
 
 "Wait a bit, Merivale," he said stupidly, "there's 
 'Liza." 
 
 "If you don't sit down I'll tie you down," declared 
 Godfrey furiously. " Eliza's gone. I've sent her home, 
 you infernal little fool." 
 
 Flack considered, and then with dignity, " I should 
 like to know, Mr. Merivale, on what ground you take 
 this liberty to interfere in my private affairs ? " he said. 
 
 The guard whistled, and the train rolled slowly away. 
 
 " Because," said Godfrey deliberately, "you were doing 
 something which would have wrecked you ; because you 
 would have been shot out of the Comet office within a 
 week ; because you were playing the fool in working hours ; 
 because, in short, you are drunk." 
 
 He turned and looked out of the window, for the situa- 
 tion was repugnant to him in his new and beautiful vision 
 of life, as something more delicate and purer than the 
 bars of Fleet Street and the stippled eyes of the wanton. 
 Flack frowned, pondering these blunt statements in his 
 cooling brain, and at last he said querulously 
 
 " Damn it, you might be more lenient to me." 
 
 Godfrey took up a paper, and heard at intervals the 
 whine, "Damn it, Merivale, you might be more lenient 
 to me." At last he said angrily 
 
 "Shut up, Flack!" 
 
 And Flack "shut up," and composed himself to sleep 
 very comfortably on the seat. As for Godfrey, this silly 
 incident had set him thinking deep, and he turned over 
 in his mind the difference between that unromantic, gross, 
 and happy clay before him and such as himself. The girl 
 in the cream dress ! It amazed him how men could visit
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE 109 
 
 such creatures with admiration and attentions, when 
 opportunities so much finer thronged on every side. The 
 troubled years of London life had robbed him of all 
 puritanical feelings ; he judged no man, and condemned 
 none. But this was a matter of taste, and, being so, he 
 was entitled to look with friendly contempt upon a lower 
 ideal. The effect was to leave him with a repulsion for 
 the somnolent cockney, which was gratified by the silence 
 of that somnolence. 
 
 Yet when Flack awoke he was Flack sober, and Flack 
 rather sheepish. His wink was shamefaced, and he grew 
 more abashed when it went unnoticed. He whistled, 
 yawned, read, and then broke out. 
 
 " Oh, hang it, Merivale, don't be a prig ! " 
 
 "I'm not a prig," said Godfrey stiffly, and then re- 
 calling that some time since the scene would not have 
 been visited by him with such august displeasure, he 
 hesitated, faltered, and finally laughed. 
 
 "You're a most ridiculous person, Flack," he said, 
 "and you'll ruin my character." 
 
 Approaching Pontrack, Flack was interested in the 
 inns, and found that his companion knew nothing of the 
 place. 
 
 " I thought you were a cousin," said he. 
 
 "So I am," said Godfrey drily, "but removed, you 
 see." 
 
 The Castle of Pontrack stood some three miles from 
 the little town on the height above a glen, in which 
 the water moved and brawled incessantly. From this 
 rise, Sir Francis Merivale might look forth across a great 
 stretch of meadow-land and moorland, which lay under 
 his rule. At this time, however, he was not present to 
 look forth, and the Castle was in the hands of his brother 
 and his brother's wife. Into those ancient halls was 
 Hubert, now Under - Secretary of State, to make his 
 triumphant entry after the declaration of the poll. Of
 
 no GODFREY MERIVALE 
 
 the poll there should have been no doubt, nor, despite 
 the statement of Rowbotham, did Godfrey or any other 
 correspondent of the London papers anticipate the victory 
 of the Radical candidate. Yet as days went by it grew 
 clear that the enemy was formidable, if not so formidable 
 as to promise success to his party. The influence of 
 the Merivales, great as it was, was at a disadvantage 
 when faced by so lively an opponent as Mr. Power, with 
 a tongue more glib than Hubert's, a pleasant appearance, 
 and a friendly way with him. Moreover, he was of local 
 extraction, and had not already been tried and found 
 wanting. The constituency had had more than ten years 
 of Hubert Merivale, and had lost its enthusiasm. He 
 was a Merivale, and that was all that might be said 
 in his favour. His hard and capable manner, though 
 the people of that part were hard and capable, by a 
 strange piece of irony, commended him to them less than 
 the mellifluous chicanery of his opponent commended 
 Mr. Power. Thus the fortunes of the combat wavered, 
 and leaned now to one side and now to the other. 
 
 It was the man Wagge that brought about the 
 collision between Hubert and Godfrey, the fourth clash 
 of tongues and temperaments between those distant 
 kinsmen. This Wagge was an agent of the Tories, 
 and most agile and shrewd, and it was understood that 
 on him rested the burden of the defence. If that seat 
 should go under him Hubert Merivale's political career 
 would be wrecked within sight of harbour, and that was 
 why the whole influence and authority of the Castle were 
 being directed into the campaign. Hubert had filled the 
 Castle with people, and half a dozen distinguished men 
 were about the constituency on his behalf, raising their 
 eloquent voices, jesting or cajoling their way into favour. 
 And Wagge, the indefatigable, worked always, mining 
 secretly and with few scruples of conscience. The fellow 
 struck Godfrey as a remarkable type of his class, and
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE in 
 
 interested him. He set forth in the Argus the per- 
 sonalities of the candidates and their prime supporters. 
 "That hard false mask," he wrote of Hubert, "feigning 
 urbanity, and speciously seeming to admit you to fellow- 
 ship and equality." But Wagge he watched in the hope 
 of discovering his methods. Flack had made friends with 
 the little bright-eyed man, and diverted into the columns 
 of the Comet much "copy" from the agent's stock of 
 knowledge. The Comet was Tory, and Flack's news was 
 ruddily coloured and celebrated from trumpets of brass. 
 As it fell out, upon the evening before the election Flack 
 had some information for his friend. 
 
 "Tell you what Wagge's funked, my boy," he said 
 cheerfully. " It's touch and go with our man, and you 
 can trot it out in your rotten rag if you like, with that 
 perfervid pen of yours. Gosh ! I like your measured 
 style, Merivale. It does me a treat," and in answer to 
 a question pinning him to his point, "yes, the Little 
 Bethel and the Temperance is up against us, and Wagge 
 nearly weeps." 
 
 It was with this information stirring in his mind that 
 Godfrey went leisurely to his inn, the "Crown," in order 
 to write his "wire," opened a wrong door and walked 
 quietly into a discovery. There sat Wagge with a dozen 
 men, a friendly company, and two or three champagne 
 bottles on the table before them. 
 
 " Hulloa ! " cried Godfrey, rising to the situation in- 
 stantly. "Mr. Wagge, I believe you're well worth 
 watching. I've always thought so, and now I know it." 
 
 Wagge changed colour, rose to his feet, and after an 
 awkward silence spoke. 
 
 "Just refreshing after a hard week, sir," he said 
 lamely. 
 
 "Just so," said Godfrey, with meaning, and winked 
 knowingly at the men. There was a laugh from one 
 or two, and others shuffled their feet. "Well, I wish
 
 us GODFREY MERIVALE 
 
 you good luck, gentlemen, and more champagne," he 
 ended, and withdrew. 
 
 But Wagge was hard upon his heels, eager and 
 business-like. 
 
 "Excuse me, sir," said he suavely, "but I see you 
 have put a wrong interpretation on the facts. That little 
 party was quite innocent." 
 
 "Innocent?" echoed Godfrey, with a smile. "Why, 
 innocent's not the word, Mr. Wagge. Naturals they are, 
 real naturals in the hands of such a clever man as your- 
 self. . . . But allow me. I have a message to send to my 
 paper." 
 
 Wagge was disconcerted, and his face, usually of a 
 smug and gentle cheerfulness, showed his discomposure. 
 
 "You're a Merivale, ain't you ? " he began limply. 
 
 "Yes, of course," assented Godfrey pleasantly; "and 
 I am also correspondent of the Daily Argus ', Mr. Wagge." 
 He dwelled on the paper's name, and saw his man wince ; 
 but Wagge was game. The little rubicund man met his 
 gaze, and broke into a broad smile, in which his even 
 white teeth showed. 
 
 "You gentlemen of the press are a damned nuisance," 
 he allowed himself to say. 
 
 Godfrey nodded and passed into his room, where he 
 framed a cautious message to the Argus. "The Tories," 
 he wrote among other things, "are resorting to very 
 questionable tactics, and there are rumours of undue 
 influence. The shadow of forbidden courses broods over 
 this election. From this you may gather the degree of 
 confidence with which they are approaching the polling- 
 day. To-morrow may bring a surprise." After which 
 he wrote a letter to Laura, as he had done every evening 
 since his arrival. It opened with "Dearest" and con- 
 cluded with the devotion of "Always and only yours." 
 That delight over, he read and re-read the two letters 
 which had reached him from Kensington. In one of
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE 113 
 
 these Laura had expressed some wonder that his address 
 was at an hotel. Evidently she had thought he would 
 have been welcomed as an inmate of the Castle by his 
 cousins. They were pretty letters, delicately affectionate, 
 and gossiping over several common acquaintances. "Papa 
 brought home a man last night," was one of the items, 
 "a stockbroker, or something. He was dreadful, but he 
 seems amiable. Papa is interested in some companies 
 with him. He asked me if I sang B^thoven, and said 
 he liked potatoes sawtyf" 
 
 Wagge was uncomfortable enough meanwhile, but 
 brazen in spirit and act. He took such precautions as 
 seemed good, and was silent. It was none of his duty 
 to carry bad news to his master, particularly when there 
 was nothing to be done. So Hubert never learned that 
 his kinsman was in Pontrack, reporting ominously to a 
 hostile London journal. So far Hubert had not clapped 
 eyes on his cousin, but on the polling day they met. 
 The voting was in its full tide at midday, when the 
 Under-Secretary came out of his committee-room and 
 found a familiar face in his path. His brain was quick 
 enough to grasp a connection between the bye-election 
 and Godfrey's presence, and his manner beamed. He 
 came to a pause. 
 
 " Hulloa ! You down here ? " he said amiably. 
 
 "Yes, reporting as usual, Mr. Merivale," retorted 
 Godfrey quickly. 
 
 Hubert gazed at him mildly and laughed. "Well, it's 
 going to be a good fight," said he. 
 
 " I daresay," returned Godfrey, with deliberation and 
 under the spell of a sudden resolution. "A good fight, 
 but not a fair one." 
 
 " What do you mean? " asked Hubert sharply. 
 
 "If I were you, Mr. Merivale," said Godfrey, with 
 even intonation, the memory of that bitter thrust in 
 Kensington kindling in him, " I really would not trust 
 your agents with champagne." 
 i
 
 ii 4 GODFREY MERIVALE 
 
 Hubert stared at him ; the words came back to him as 
 familiar; he frowned. " Wagge ! " he thought, and to 
 Godfrey, " What are you for? " very bluntly civil. 
 
 "The .tfcgKC." 
 
 "Ah!" said Hubert very shortly, and, turning on his 
 heel, walked off. 
 
 Yet that was not the last Godfrey saw of the Merivales 
 on this his first visit to the country of his ancestors. The 
 outlying districts of the constituency were being dragged 
 for voters ; and somewhere upon the high road to the 
 Castle that afternoon Godfrey met a dogcart that rolled 
 rapidly upon him. 
 
 " Hulloa ! " cried the driver ; " have you voted? " 
 
 Godfrey found a youthful face smiling pleasantly into 
 his own. 
 
 "No, "said he. 
 
 "Jump in, then," said the youngster cheerfully; "I 
 know what side you're on." 
 
 "Well," said Godfrey, not unwilling to amuse himself, 
 " that's very clever of you cleverer than the likes of me, 
 for I don't know what side you are on." 
 
 " I'm a Merivale," said the young man simply. 
 
 "Why, if it comes to that, so am I," returned Godfrey, 
 with a smile of appreciation at the felicitous repartee. 
 
 The driver of the dogcart gasped. "You're not 
 staying at the Castle, are you?" he asked. " I haven't 
 seen you." 
 
 "No, I'm not staying at the Castle," said Godfrey; 
 "I'm reporting the election for the Argtis." 
 
 "Reporting!" exclaimed the young man, as if over- 
 come by his amazement. " But are you " 
 
 "A relation, you mean?" said Godfrey, and proceeded 
 gravely, "Well, you see, I don't quite know. You see, 
 I don't like to admit people to be cousins of mine unless 
 I am quite sure of their identity." 
 
 "Oh," said the boy bewildered, but gathering that his
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE 115 
 
 bona fides was in question, "my name's John Roland 
 Merivale. I am son of Mr. Roland Merivale." 
 
 "So am I," said Godfrey, again in delight with acci- 
 dent. 
 
 John Roland's wits were so manifestly incapable of 
 grasping the situation that Godfrey took pity on him. 
 Besides, he had had his joke. 
 
 " My father's name was Roland," he explained, " but he 
 was not a banker." 
 
 "Then you must be a cousin," cried the young man, 
 and laughed pleasantly in greeting. "Jump up and I'll 
 give you a lift." 
 
 Godfrey shook his head. "I'm going the other way," 
 he said; "and besides, I mustn't be seen with a Tory. 
 It would ruin my reputation," 
 
 John Roland laughed in vague bewilderment, and shook 
 his whip in salute. "Well, au revoir" he said, and 
 almost ere the words were out of his mouth his high- 
 stepping horse had swept round the corner towards the 
 town. Here was a breach through the cold bastions 
 that guarded the pride of the Merivales ; but how far, 
 apart from this young man, Godfrey was to penetrate ere 
 he left Pontrack he could not have guessed that afternoon. 
 His statement troubled the Under-Secretary, who, how- 
 ever, had no more scruples than his agent. He sent for 
 Wagge, heard the tale ; and, after a burst of violence, 
 composed an antidote. That night until after twelve it 
 was the boast of both sides that each had won ; but as 
 the ballot boxes had not all arrived, and would not be 
 opened till the morning, uncertainty ruled the town, and 
 led to reckless drinking. By eleven next day it was 
 known that Hubert Merivale had defeated his antagonist 
 by fifty votes. 
 
 Later in the afternoon the great gates of the Castle 
 were thrown open, and the new member entered in 
 triumph the house of his race. In his train was a
 
 n6 GODFREY MERIVALE 
 
 numerous company of friends, acquaintances, supporters, 
 constituents, and press correspondents. The Mayor gave 
 a civic air to the performance, which had been specially 
 designed by Hubert himself. He knew at least that there 
 were times when compromise and even humility are in- 
 dispensable, and he thought that this was one. Usually 
 he mistook the occasion, but now he congratulated him- 
 self that he had seized the opportunity boldly. For the 
 celebration would perhaps not have taken place if it had 
 not been for the correspondent of the Argus, and that 
 correspondent was present. The Castle kept open house, 
 and the ladies assembled in the big hall, smiling and 
 flushing and welcoming the victor. In the long gallery 
 of armour was a table spread and flowing with wine. 
 Godfrey stood, absorbing the vivid and unusual scene, 
 and was even stirred to some emotion of which he was 
 instantly ashamed. Thus stood a Godfrey Merivale in 
 Pontrack Castle for the first time for close upon two 
 hundred years, not as master, however, but as a stranger 
 whom none knew or glanced at. 
 
 If none observed him, he, at least, had a pair of busy 
 eyes. The colour in the sombre hall drew him, and he 
 examined the women there. There were several, and 
 among them certain resemblances. Two were handsome 
 women of mature age, one of whom he had no doubt 
 was a Merivale ; and talking to his young acquaintance, 
 John Roland, was a girl of nineteen, wonderfully fair 
 and pretty. His glances separated these figures from the 
 crowd, and almost before he had finished he was aware 
 that Hubert Merivale was passing in talk with an im- 
 portant gentleman of the county. The member's eye 
 roved to him and stayed there ; he listened to his com- 
 panion with a certain abstraction, and hesitated towards 
 Godfrey, for an instant. The devil inspired the young 
 man to step forward, note-book in hand, and bow 
 ceremoniously.
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE 117 
 
 "I'm sure, sir, that the readers of the Argus would 
 esteem it a privilege if you would be good enough to 
 grant me an interview." 
 
 "I'm afraid that I've nothing to say," laughed Hubert 
 good-humouredly, " except that I've got in." 
 
 "Ah, Mr. Merivale, that would be the point of interest 
 to the Argus" said Godfrey suavely, " how you got in." 
 
 Hubert shot a brooding glance at him, but the other 
 Merivale owned some of that ripe and self-contained 
 blood, and stood impassive. 
 
 "I don't think I'll grant interviews," said the member 
 mildly. " But have you had any refreshment, Mr. 
 Merivale ? " 
 
 "May I remind you of your dictum ..." began 
 Godfrey frigidly. 
 
 "Oh, but nonsense, my dear sir," broke in Hubert, 
 smiling hardly ; " we are relatives," and by an authorita- 
 tive glance summoned a lady who stood near. " Honoria," 
 said he, "this is a ... Merivale, a relative. Let me 
 introduce you to my wife, Mr. Merivale." 
 
 Godfrey bowed and murmured his civilities. This move 
 had taken him aback, and he did not wage war on 
 women. Mrs. Hubert, a mild and comely woman of 
 five-and-forty, most carefully dressed, with shining, 
 friendly eyes, gazed at him with interest. 
 
 "Oh, are you one of the family? I didn't know of 
 you," she said pleasantly. " Having married into it only 
 a few years ago I haven't yet reached the end of the 
 Merivales. Which are you? " 
 
 Hubert had turned away, leaving his wife to make 
 what impression she could on this intractable fellow. 
 
 "My name is Godfrey Merivale, and my father was 
 Roland," said the reporter of the Argus simply. 
 
 "Roland!" said Mrs. Hubert in perplexity. "Then 
 you're . . . you can't be . . ."and called "Jack! Jack!" 
 
 This brought to her Godfrey's acquaintance, John
 
 u8 GODFREY MERIVALE 
 
 Roland, who grinned at him. "Jack, do you know 
 Mr. Godfrey Merivale ? " asked the lady. 
 
 " I do," said Jack, with a shy smile at Godfrey. 
 
 "This is very interesting," said Mrs. Hubert. " Fancy 
 our being related ! " and when Hubert looked that way 
 he saw his wife beaming, and Jack and Godfrey laughing. 
 His strong teeth showed under his moustache, as white 
 and even as a dog's ; and he stopped by his sister, Lady 
 George Bower. 
 
 "Violet, I wish you'd go and speak to that young man 
 with Honoria yonder. And get Aunt Katherine to do so. 
 He may spoil this election. ... Be kind to him ; he can 
 be dangerous to me. He calls himself Merivale. It's 
 important." 
 
 Lady George elevated her eyebrows in surprise and 
 stared across at her sister-in-law. "What do you mean?" 
 she asked. 
 
 " Oh, hang it, Violet, don't bother ! Do as I ask, and 
 I'll tell you afterwards," said the Under-Secretary im- 
 patiently ; and recognising the tones of command the 
 lady rose. 
 
 It was a brilliant woman of forty who approached the 
 trio and addressed Honoria as if by accident. 
 
 " My dear Honoria, what are you and Jack discussing 
 so excitedly? " she began. 
 
 " A new relation, Cousin Violet," exclaimed Jack. 
 
 "What!" said Lady George, "not . . ." she looked 
 pleasantly at Godfrey, and neither the surprise nor the 
 welcome were exaggerated by a line. Mrs. Hubert made 
 the introduction. 
 
 "Well, it's very odd," said Lady George, seating her- 
 self and motioning the young man to follow her example. 
 Godfrey had time to reflect how completely she had 
 brushed his companions aside. He sat down by her. 
 
 "I should like to hear where you come in," she went 
 on graciously. "I'm much interested in the family 
 pedigree."
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE 119 
 
 Godfrey began to explain, while the beautiful blue eyes 
 of the Merivales, deep now with intention and curiosity, 
 dwelt and wandered on his face. 
 
 The colour ran in his young face as he sat by this 
 handsome woman, with those fascinating eyes ; and on 
 her invitation he followed her when she rose, and mingled 
 in the throng of talkers in the hall. 
 
 "Aunt Katherine," said Lady George, pausing before 
 a dowager of commanding aspect, " this is a new 
 relation a Merivale." 
 
 "There are many people named Merivale," returned 
 the dowager, putting up her glasses at him ; but added, 
 "There is a resemblance. It's not Raymond, is it? or 
 Edward?" 
 
 "No, Aunt Katherine," laughed Lady George; "it is 
 Mr. Godfrey Merivale . . . Mr. Merivale, Lady Hayling." 
 
 " I don't know any Godfrey," said the Countess 
 abruptly, and turned her glass towards a corner of the 
 hall from which some laughter at that moment broke 
 forth. 
 
 "Who's that old geeser?" asked Flack's voice in his 
 ear, Flack's voice undisguised and joyous. 
 
 "Not so loud," enjoined Godfrey. " I believe it is the 
 Countess of Hayling." 
 
 " I'll guy her, by gum ! " said Flack airily. " Look at 
 her topknot," and scribbled a note. "They want treacly 
 copy on the Comet. Had a drink yet ? There's a gorgeous 
 refreshment-bar in there, and a ripping barmaid." 
 
 Godfrey turned from him irritably, and Lady George's 
 attention revisited him. She saw his frown. 
 
 "Aunt Katherine's a fool. I told her plain enough as 
 eye could speak," she thought, and, raising her voice, she 
 called, "Aline! Aline!" 
 
 There came out of the crowd a pretty girl of twenty, 
 bearing her parentage in many marks. 
 
 "Here is a new cousin of yours," said Lady George,
 
 120 GODFREY MERIVALE 
 
 smilingly indicating 1 Godfrey. " Mr. Godfrey, my daughter 
 Aline." 
 
 What could be more intimate, and what more hand- 
 somely done ! Surely by these familiarities, wherewith 
 he was received into the fold of the Merivales and pressed 
 to those chill bosoms, the blunders and the crudities of 
 Hubert's manner and character were redeemed and be- 
 came secure of pardon ! Left alone with Miss Aline, 
 Godfrey opened a ceremonious conversation, overwhelmed 
 by the tide of favour. But Miss Aline had merely "yes " 
 or "no" for answer, and was sweetly civil, but stared 
 anywhere in the room save at her companion. Godfrey 
 guessed her to be looking for someone, and at the passage 
 of a smile across her features his gaze went the way of 
 hers, and he saw once more the fair girl he had noticed 
 on his entrance. She was wondrous pretty, and went by 
 like a flower. Her glance was, as it seemed to him, 
 blown from his companion to himself like a leaf in a 
 current of air, and, detached again by a breath, floated 
 elsewhere. 
 
 Godfrey turned to Miss Aline, who was still concerned 
 in the passage of people. She was looking for someone 
 else then. "Yes," answered Aline, and "Do you think 
 so?" and " I don't know "; and again, " Not last year." 
 
 The devil! Had the girl any wits? Her eyes danced, 
 and she rose involuntarily. Godfrey smiled. The ecstatic 
 influences of young love made her positively insolent ; her 
 back was towards him. Was it young love ? Rude Aline, 
 if it were so, had his gracious forgiveness and his blessing. 
 That the sun should shine bright on young love was 
 Godfrey's prayer and philosophy. It was owed to that 
 condition, even if never again happiness might revisit 
 hearts grown grey and spirits worn and embittered. He 
 moved away and met Hubert, who smiled in recognition, 
 as of one reconciled and pacified. This popular welcome 
 of a long-lost relative suddenly assumed new and lurid
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE 121 
 
 colours in Godfrey's mind, and he would have passed ; 
 but in the distance he beheld a lane open in the throng, 
 and Flack descend the hall, vinous and happy, whistling 
 a cheerful tune from the last burlesque. 
 
 "I'm afraid," said Hubert, with a grin, "that your 
 friend has met with a slight accident." 
 
 It was constitutional ; the man could not keep himself 
 from gross affronts. But on his honour Hubert could 
 have sworn that he meant no harm. Godfrey broke into 
 flame, the sense of his humiliation lapping about him. 
 
 "My friend, sir, is drunk," he said, "but he will 
 doubtless recover in time to write a glowing notice on 
 your behalf for to-morrow." 
 
 " It's the least he can do for all that champagne," 
 returned Hubert, with wonderful spirit and good temper. 
 
 "Champagne!" said Godfrey furiously; "why, it 
 seems all our conversations turn on champagne." 
 
 The mischief was done; and so said Hubert, tearing the 
 mask aside, and grinning still, 
 
 "No, perhaps I really ought not to have trusted re- 
 porters with champagne." 
 
 "You repeat yourself, sir," cried Godfrey, burning, and 
 scarcely able to articulate. 
 
 Hubert laughed openly, and Godfrey marched down 
 the hall. 
 
 " Damn the prying prig !" said Hubert savagely, as he 
 went out. " Damn him ! Let them print what they will."
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 ALONG letter, pulsing with the yearning of a lover, 
 yet admirably restrained and light of hand, had 
 acquainted Laura with the hour of Godfrey's return. He 
 went to Kensington, nevertheless, to find her absent. 
 
 " She thought she ought to pay some calls. She has 
 gone to pay calls," explained Julia, and invited him to 
 remain until her niece should return. But that was 
 impossible, as he was wanted by Rowbotham at six, and 
 Laura was not expected back until later. He lingered, 
 however, and shyly approached Julia. 
 
 " I suppose you know, Miss Sebright," said he, dubious 
 but smiling. 
 
 "That you and Laura are engaged?" she asked, and 
 proceeded without pausing for an answer. " I guessed 
 it." She looked at him. "Does she call it an engage- 
 ment?" 
 
 "Why well we've never mentioned the word. One 
 doesn't give things names," laughed Godfrey. 
 
 "No," said Julia deliberately, "I don't think Laura 
 does. Laura hasn't spoken of it yet. She is good at 
 keeping her own counsel." 
 
 "Doesn't Colonel Sebright know?" asked Godfrey in 
 surprise. 
 
 " No," said Julia briefly. 
 
 " Well, it won't be long now," said Godfrey joyfully. 
 
 Miss Sebright said nothing, and when he rose ac- 
 companied him to the door. 
 
 "You will come to-morrow? " she asked, smiling.
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE 123 
 
 "Yes; I will write to Laura to-night," he said, and 
 left her to watch him for twenty paces down the road. 
 
 Rowbotham did not want him to resume his ordinary 
 work that night, but to go into the Pontrack Election 
 case. The Argus special articles had excited interest, 
 and the clubs were talking. 
 
 " We must follow it up hot," declared Rowbotham, and 
 got the editor's smiling but uneasy assent to the policy. 
 
 "It's rather awkward," said the editor, "as I happen 
 to know Merivale extremely well. But it's policy, I 
 suppose, Rowbotham." 
 
 Rowbotham bluntly declared that it was " damned good 
 policy," and got his way. Godfrey, after a spare dinner 
 in a respectable but shabby restaurant, spent the evening 
 in his rooms in the Temple, with Hubert Merivale for 
 victim. He stuck pins in the waxen image with a certain 
 satisfaction, and was annoyed in the middle of his 
 occupation to hear someone tumbling up the stairs. 
 Presently his oak resounded to terrific noises, and angrily 
 he threw open the door. 
 
 "What the devil " he began, and recognised his 
 
 visitor. " Upon my soul, Flack, this is too bad," he 
 said. " I leave you drunk and disgracing yourself in 
 Yorkshire, and I find you drunk and disgracing yourself 
 in the Temple." 
 
 "Not so fast, my boy," said Flack in an injured voice. 
 "Drunk, am I? Look at me. I admit I had a bit too 
 much in that old worm-eaten, moth-nipped, fly-blown 
 castle, but I'm no more drunk than yourself. Only had 
 two mellowers. It's all your damned ugly stairs. They're 
 a disgrace, sir, a disgrace to any honest burglar, let alone 
 any dishonest journalist." 
 
 "Oh, come in," said Godfrey impatiently; "only you 
 must be off sharp. I'm in the middle of a ' special.' " 
 
 "Very well, very well," said Flack soothingly. "Don't 
 kick me out before I get in." He entered, and sat down
 
 124 GODFREY MERIVALE 
 
 ceremoniously. "Look here, Merivale," he began critic- 
 ally, "you're getting a bit too thick lately. D'ye suppose 
 we're all going to turn saints because of you? And d'ye 
 suppose you're the only one that's found a girl ? " 
 
 " Better leave that alone," said Godfrey shortly. 
 
 Flack stared, but, being a shrewd young man, took the 
 hint. "All right, old chap. Well, I'm sorry about the 
 moth-eaten castle. Did you see my account of the fes- 
 tivity ? Rorty, wasn't it ? " 
 
 Godfrey laughed. " I suppose that would be the word," 
 he said. " But if I were to put a quarter of those per- 
 sonalities into the Argus I should feel Rowbotham's boot." 
 
 "Ah, well," said Flack, complacently purring, "you've 
 got no go in your old rag. There's no room for a real 
 artist. Come and have a mellower." 
 
 Godfrey shook his head. " I've too much on hand." 
 
 Flack rose. "Ah well, I only looked in to say howdy, 
 and if you are so 'aughty with your ancestral 'alls, 
 Merivale, why I'm no fit company for you, and I'll hook 
 it." He went towards the door. "Ancestral 'alls, Meri- 
 vale, d'ye hear? 'Alls without a 'aughty haitch." 
 
 "Flack," said Godfrey meditatively, "you're amusing, 
 but you've got no backbone, otherwise you'd do some- 
 thing." 
 
 "Compliments," said Flack, and made for the door, 
 singing a ridiculous perversion 
 
 "Jack Flack, he had no back ; 
 His wife, she had no chin. 
 And so, the night bein' cold, 
 They tucked their tootsies in. 
 
 Good night, Merivale," he shouted ; and Godfrey 
 ducked his head once more over his "copy." But he was 
 foredoomed to another interruption, and that at an hour 
 somewhat late. As with agreeable twinges of vengeance 
 he read his article for the purpose of revision, the door 
 spoke once more, and admitted Rowlands.
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE 125 
 
 "I heard you were to be back, Merivale," said the 
 barrister. " In fact, I dropped in last night. My chambers 
 are quite close, you know. May I smoke ? Thanks very 
 much. I like a cigar at this time. I hope I haven't 
 broken into your work ? " 
 
 Godfrey civilly told the necessary lie, and watched 
 Rowlands light his cigar. "I have an interesting case 
 which I thought might suit your paper, Merivale. The 
 Argrts, isn't it? I thought so." He looked closely at his 
 host. 
 
 " Have some whisky ?" suggested Godfrey perfunctorily. 
 
 "Thanks very much ; a small one, if you please," said 
 Rowlands deliberately. "Yes, I had an idea it would 
 suit your columns. I've put the main facts down, and 
 here they are. Do what you will with them." He set 
 a paper neatly written upon the table, and seemed to 
 dismiss the subject. He continued to smoke and sipped 
 his whisky. 
 
 "Would you mind my asking a question?" he said 
 presently, at last arrived at his real mission. " If you 
 have any objection to answering me, please don't," he 
 added apologetically. " Is there any understanding be- 
 tween Miss Sebright and yourself? " 
 
 Godfrey thrilled deliciously. " Yes, there is," he said 
 shortly. 
 
 "Ah!" said Rowlands, and smoked without comment 
 for a minute ; then, " I suppose I must congratulate you, 
 Merivale," he said evenly. 
 
 " It's not announced yet," said Godfrey hastily. 
 
 " No? " said Rowlands, and was again silent. " Well, 
 I heartily congratulate you. She is ... she is a beautiful 
 girl." 
 
 Godfrey neither corroborated nor denied the statement ; 
 he was feeling a trifle awkward, and rather happy. He 
 found in a little that Rowlands was speaking of Julia 
 Sebright.
 
 126 GODFREY MERIVALE 
 
 "I should think she had probably been even more 
 handsome than her niece," remarked Rowlands. 
 
 Godfrey's spirit sneered, but deigned to make no retort. 
 
 " I suppose," continued Rowlands, ruminating openly, 
 " that she has really more beauty still, but for the lack of 
 freshness." 
 
 "Good heavens, man," burst out Godfrey at last, 
 "she's thirty-seven!" 
 
 Rowlands was not disturbed ; the whisky, indeed, which 
 had not been small, had served to stimulate him, and had 
 broken down his guard of reticence. "My dear Merivale," 
 he smiled complacently, "in your overweening youth and 
 happiness you are scarcely fit to take a proper perspective. 
 I am forty, and have nothing much to expect, and, there- 
 fore, I take it that I am a more measured judge than 
 troubled youth. To be thirty-seven is not to be old, 
 thank Heaven, and luxuriance and fulness are to some 
 tastes as pleasant and desirable as bloom and youth. 
 Colour deepens with years, doesn't it ? " 
 
 " Oh, so it does with smoking," laughed Godfrey. 
 
 "Miss Sebright," went on Rowlands, "had many 
 admirers in her youth." Godfrey looked up. He wanted 
 to ask if Rowlands was one, and apparently the barrister 
 realised the thought. "I have only known them some 
 five years ; but I have known a great deal about the 
 family. At twenty-five Miss Laura's age, I think 
 Julia Sebright was surrounded by admirers, some eligible 
 and a few ineligible. Contrary to the common practice of 
 her sex, she preferred the ineligible." 
 
 "The penniless? " said Godfrey. 
 
 "The ineligibility to which I refer," said the barrister 
 elaborately, "was rather the state matrimonial." 
 
 "She fell in love with a married man?" queried 
 Godfrey. 
 
 "There was talk, I know. It went very far. I don't 
 know how far, but it did go very far. There was an
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE 127 
 
 amazing amount of talk. Julia Sebright went abroad 
 with a friend, was absent three months, and then turned 
 up at the sick-bed of ... the man. She said he was 
 going" to die. Of course he didn't. That made more 
 talk. Well ..." 
 
 " She never struck me as a woman of strong feelings," 
 said Godfrey reflectively. 
 
 "No," agreed Rowlands, "I don't know that she is. 
 They were violent then, but that was youth. Perhaps 
 there is nothing left. You can't tell with a woman, and 
 yet the age is ... I have always found in the twenty 
 years of my active life in the world," pursued Rowlands 
 comfortably and with philosophy, "that resurgam is 
 written between the ages of thirty-five and forty, in the 
 case of women, of course." 
 
 "And if there is no ghost to rise?" asked Godfrey 
 lightly. 
 
 "Ah, the point is in this case that there was," em- 
 phasised Rowlands. 
 
 " I think all the more of her for what you have told 
 me," said Godfrey after a pause for reflection. " Sincerity 
 is the one thing in life, sincerity of emotions, and sincerity 
 of act, as well as sincerity of faith." 
 
 " It's often very foolish," commented the worldly-wise 
 barrister. 
 
 " Foolish ! " exclaimed Godfrey warmly, and shrugged 
 his shoulders. "Perhaps it is, or is so accounted. The 
 world has been made by fools of that sort. The fact that 
 you sit there comfortably to-day, to a certain extent 
 prosperous and happy, and immune in large degree from 
 terrors of the night and assaults of disease, is due to 
 fools of that sort." 
 
 "You are young, Merivale," said Rowlands placidly, 
 "and you are naturally just now enthusiastic." 
 
 Godfrey laughed. "No, it's not a question of time or 
 age," he said; "it's blood temperament. I could not
 
 128 GODFREY MERIVALE 
 
 take your views at any time of life. I am not a fool 
 to suppose all is for the best in the best of possible 
 worlds ; in fact, I'm a cynic. I've seen enough to justify 
 me in cynicism ; but I'm not on that account a pessimist." 
 
 "Not with young hot blood," said Rowlands, "you 
 will have to see more first"; and then after a silence 
 which Godfrey was too contemptuous to break, " Do you 
 know this Strahan man? " 
 
 " What Strahan man? " asked Godfrey. 
 
 "Oh, the stockjobber, or whatever he is, that's got 
 hold of Sebright, or that Sebright's got hold of I'm sure 
 I don't know which." 
 
 " No," said Godfrey, " I never heard of him." 
 
 " Oh, he's a recent acquisition," said Rowlands ; " but 
 I thought you had probably heard. He was dining there 
 once last week when I was there, and I met him again 
 on Sunday." 
 
 "I think Laura Miss Sebright did say something in 
 one of her letters," said Godfrey, remembering something 
 about a vulgar business man. 
 
 "That's the stockjobber, if he is a stockjobber, no 
 doubt. But he isn't a mere vulgar business man," said 
 Rowlands. " He's a good deal more than vulgar. He's 
 very clever, I should guess, and knows what he wants." 
 
 "I hope he won't pluck Colonel Sebright," said 
 Godfrey. 
 
 "I don't know," said Rowlands, after a pause, in 
 which he seemed to consider the chances ; and then with 
 apparent irrelevancy, " Did you ever meet Legge? " 
 
 " Legge ! No," answered Godfrey, wondering. "Who 
 is he?" 
 
 " He was you remember I told you Miss Laura had 
 been engaged. I thought you must have met him. He 
 not infrequently goes there still." 
 
 Godfrey's heart bumped angrily, but immediately after 
 with the triumph of a conqueror, " I believe I did once
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE 129 
 
 meet him," he answered. " A good-looking-, dark man?" 
 He could afford to be gracious to the poor discarded 
 Legge. 
 
 "That's he," said Rowlands, and rose. "Good night, 
 Merivale," he threw back at his host; "I didn't know 
 you were so near till the other day. Come over and see 
 me if you have time." 
 
 Godfrey promised easily, but when his guest was gone 
 sat thinking. Somehow the glow of satisfaction which 
 had spread through him at the thought of a defeated and 
 rejected Legge had faded quickly. It had been sheer 
 emotion ; now he fell back upon thought, and pertinent 
 but impotent questions posed themselves in his mind. 
 Ideas took shape, and looked ugly when he scrutinised 
 the fact of Laura's engagement more nearly. He had 
 no right in the world to ask himself these questions, 
 but he did. He was harrowed to his reins at the mental 
 picture of Laura in another's arms, and with the figure 
 of Legge, recalled now vividly, the shame of the thought 
 burned deeper. That identification materialised the idea 
 in harsh and terrible colours. It became an obsession 
 which marched with him to sleep, and remained about 
 the waking fragments of his consciousness. 
 
 This unhappy realisation accompanied him to Kensing- 
 ton, but still he dared not put the; question to smiling 
 Laura. She was delighted to see him, and shrank with 
 a pleasant, maidenly diffidence from the touch of his lips. 
 But he insisted, refusing to be denied with a force and 
 masterfulness that surprised her ; and in the sweetness of 
 that surrender his evil thoughts went up like evil vapours. 
 It was warm, glowing, and pulsing beauty that was 
 moving under his arm and against his breast. He 
 rallied her gently in that she had not broken the dear 
 news to her father. "Miss Sebright tells me he doesn't 
 know." 
 
 Laura's expressive eyes reproached him. "It isn't 
 K
 
 130 GODFREY MERIVALE 
 
 easy to tell some things. One likes to keep some things 
 quite secret." 
 
 "Of course, darling, of course," he assented hastily. 
 "And yet I want the world to know. I would get up on 
 the chimney-tops and proclaim the glorious news." 
 
 Laura said he was a "silly boy," and remarked that 
 Mr. Widdowson had just gone. 
 
 " Poor Widdowson ! " said Godfrey, smiling in fatuous 
 content on her. 
 
 " I think he gets quite odious," said Laura, who had 
 kept the unhappy man for twelve months in her net. 
 
 They were still talking when Colonel Sebright returned, 
 and greeted his young friend warmly. " Ha! Finished 
 electioneering, Merivale?" he asked cheerfully, "Glad to 
 see you managed to get your cousin in, eh ? Just 
 managed it, though." 
 
 Godfrey laughed. "Oh, I had nothing to do with 
 that, Colonel," he said, "my business wasn't electioneer- 
 ing, but journalism." 
 
 "Oh, ah, yes," assented the Colonel, and to his 
 daughter, "Laura, my dear, Mr. Strahan will dine with 
 us. You'll stay, Merivale ? We haven't seen you for 
 a long time." 
 
 Godfrey, pleasantly awkward in his manner, consented. 
 
 "It seems to me I'm always here," he added. Laura 
 regarded him affectionately before turning away to give 
 her orders. His eyes embraced her with ardour. 
 
 Here, then, comes Strahan, the " stockjobber," into the 
 course of this narrative, but "not a stockjobber, my dear 
 Merivale," as Colonel Sebright explained with the air of 
 one reinstating a great man in his proper lofty place, "a 
 financier, a very different thing, as you must know." 
 
 "I have come across financiers of many kinds," said 
 Godfrey, smiling. "But this Mr. Strahan, I understand, 
 is wealthy." 
 
 "Can sign his cheque for a hundred thousand,"
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE 131 
 
 declared the Colonel, and the phrase from those military 
 lips savoured of a lesson that has been learnt. It was 
 not so he would have described a prosperous man some 
 months ago. But as Godfrey sat facing the famous 
 financier at dinner a good deal of his private suspicions 
 and fears ebbed from him. Strahan was a pleasant- 
 looking man of five-and-thirty, dressed scrupulously, and 
 neither loud nor effusive. His eye, which was brown and 
 shrewd, was all that witnessed to his occupation, unless 
 it was a certain attitude of rnind which grated upon 
 Godfrey. 
 
 "But can you do that, Strahan? Do you think we 
 can do that? " asked the Colonel eagerly. 
 
 " Well, I've always paid twenty shillings in the pound," 
 replied Strahan, with a complacent smile. 
 
 He "sized" things, in his own phrase, from the point 
 of finance, which was perhaps quite natural, and he 
 expressed them in the terms of pounds, shillings, and 
 pence. Not that he desired to talk of money, for it was 
 the Colonel who took the lead ; but everywhere in his 
 estimates of men or manners, or rights or obligations, 
 this same criterion showed in his talk. It was a mental 
 characteristic of the man. I have said he was not 
 effusive or loud ; he was, however, common in fibre 
 to the least sensitive observation. His full red lips, and 
 his broad jaw were ensigns of the strong animal, which 
 peeped out, likewise, in that watchful and suspicious eye. 
 He had assurance rather than confidence, but this was 
 not manifested inconveniently or offensively, not even 
 when he nodded in a friendly way at the introduction 
 to Godfrey and observed 
 
 "On the Press? I've known a good many of you 
 fellows. They come to me a good deal, for tips and 
 calls. They're like bees about honey, eh, Colonel? 
 They open their mouths wide in these days." 
 
 The Colonel explained that Mr. Merivale was on the 
 Argus, which elicited the fact that Mr. Strahan did not
 
 132 GODFREY MERIVALE 
 
 approve of the Argus views, but "I daresay they know 
 their business," with an amiable and knowing smile of 
 tolerance at the young man. 
 
 Godfrey was only amused, and, catching Laura's eye, 
 strove to convey to her his sense of the jest, but it was 
 evident she had not seen the humour of the patronage. 
 
 " He is so common," she observed with emphasis and 
 regret later, when they were alone with Julia Sebright. 
 
 " Oh, he's not bad," said the more tolerant Godfrey. 
 
 "The impudence of his saying that to you ! " declared 
 Laura savagely. It seemed to have humiliated her. 
 
 "My dear Laura, I really don't mind," said Godfrey, 
 laughing; "I'm not much concerned with Mr. Strahan's 
 opinions of men or things." 
 
 " I wish people like that weren't so rich," said Laura, 
 still indignant. 
 
 There was of course that objection to offer to the 
 patronage extended to Godfrey, that a rich man does, 
 after all, count. He counts, indeed, proportionately as 
 his money counts, or as he counts his money. His snub 
 or his patronage should, therefore, be of some con- 
 sideration, even to a journalist with ^300 a year, as 
 in the end he will outrun and outmatch mere people of 
 culture or wit, or knowledge, or goodness, or beauty. 
 The humiliation of Godfrey rankled in Laura's sensitive 
 bosom. She was abrupt to the financier, and cross to 
 her lover. 
 
 " Did you know," asked Julia of Godfrey before he left, 
 "did you know that that man has some six or seven 
 thousand a year?" 
 
 Godfrey's "No" expressed little interest. "I heard 
 the Colonel say something about one hundred thousand 
 pounds," he added. 
 
 " It's a lot of money," said Miss Sebright, with a sigh 
 and a smile. " It's very tempting, isn't it? " 
 
 "Oh, very," laughed Godfrey candidly, as he said 
 good-bye.
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE special correspondent of the Argus had been 
 right in supposing that his letters would draw 
 attention to the bye-election at Pontrack. Rowbotham 
 was delighted, and so in a certain measure was the editor 
 also, who made his compliments to Mr. Merivale. The 
 affair, indeed, assumed the figure of a "sensation," was 
 bruited in other papers friendly to the Liberal interest, 
 and ignored by the Ministerial organs. Action was 
 threatened in daily paragraphs, and it was stated with 
 authority that Mr. Power was moving in the matter. 
 The Argus, much to the discomposure of its editor, 
 backed its revelations by articles which thundered for 
 an inquiry. "These charges have been formally and 
 definitely brought by our special correspondent. If true, 
 they constitute a scandal ; if false, it is unfair that Mr. 
 Hubert Merivale should rest under the stigma they 
 involve. In any case, the purity of our electioneering 
 system is dear to both parties." 
 
 The storm, gathering thus slowly, at last beat upon 
 the new Under-Secretary with fury. A petition against 
 the return of Mr. Merivale was presented. Rowbotham 
 was deeply gratified over the advertisement secured by 
 the Argus, and flattered himself that he "knew a man 
 when he saw him." Thus picked out by his performance 
 and thrust into eminence, Godfrey secured the chance 
 which he might otherwise have awaited for ten years. 
 He was drafted on to the editorial staff, and his salary 
 was raised to ^400. This good news, however, he
 
 134 GODFREY MERIVALE 
 
 withheld from Laura for the time, reserving it until he 
 was actually in possession of his place of glory and of 
 his income. 
 
 Flack had congratulated him on his "scoop," and that 
 wholly without envy. Indeed, he was vastly more in- 
 terested in the vagaries of some girl he knew, "a nice 
 little oh, you've seen her, Merivale, of course ! I did 
 the honours, I remember, and I thought you'd run off 
 with her." 
 
 They had met at a "First Night," for Godfrey was very 
 amiably replacing a colleague who had been obliged to 
 attend another "show." John Augustus Flack John 
 Augustus on Sundays, as he explained, John on week- 
 days, and Jack after 8 p.m. Jack, therefore, as he had 
 now become, was present owing to a similar accident on 
 the Comet, and haunted the refreshment-bar. 
 
 " I've got some friends here," said he to Godfrey, who 
 was insistent that the bell had rung. " I don't get the 
 chance to see 'em often, while you can see a bally piece 
 like this any day of the year." 
 
 He winked across the counter at the barmaid, and 
 when Godfrey came out after the next act he was still 
 seated in the room. 
 
 " Do you think I want to see a play to write about it? " 
 he asked jauntily. " No ; you beggars of the Argus 
 may, but not me." 
 
 A young gentleman at the bar turned at his clear voice 
 and stared at him in astonishment, almost, as it were, 
 open-mouthed. Flack's eyes twinkled on him. Then 
 the young man's gaze reached Godfrey, and he uttered an 
 exclamation. 
 
 "By Jove! It's . . . why, it's you!" Godfrey met his 
 look without recognition. "You're a cousin of mine, 
 aren't you ? You know we met a week or two ago at 
 Pontrack." 
 
 "Oh yes!" said Godfrey, recalling the fresh face. 
 "You're "
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE 135 
 
 "I'm Jack Merivale." He turned quickly to two men 
 who were with him, tall, lean, fair-haired, and friendly. 
 
 "I say, Edward, Raymond," he said. "Look here, 
 here's a cousin. Let me introduce you. You're all 
 cousins," he laughed. "Edward, Raymond, and . . . 
 er er?" 
 
 " My name's Godfrey," said that young man. 
 
 "What a fool I am yes. I'm so sorry Godfrey. 
 These are my Uncle John's sons," he explained. Edward 
 and Raymond, young men of something under thirty and 
 of brown complexions and hard gymnastic frames, smiled 
 amiably. "Good piece, isn't it?" they said. It was a 
 burlesque. 
 
 Godfrey assented that it was tolerable. 
 
 "He's on a paper," said Jack Merivale to his two 
 cousins. 
 
 Edward nodded knowingly. " Pretty good sport? " he 
 said. Godfrey agreed that it was. The two brothers 
 drank their whisky and sank into silence. They were 
 not long returned from shooting big game in Africa, 
 an amusement, or rather an occupation, to which they 
 had devoted their lives, and they invariably made the 
 most of their time when within the borders of civilisation. 
 Jack Merivale explained this in turn to Godfrey, who put 
 some civil questions to Edward and Raymond. 
 
 " Oh, it's good enough sport," said Edward. 
 
 " Not bad," said Raymond, and eyed the barmaid 
 circumspectly and hard. 
 
 Flack was here drawn into the conversation by Jack 
 Merivale's eager, boyish eye and merry spirits. He was 
 presented to each. 
 
 "You're on a paper too?" said Jack Merivale admir- 
 ingly. When Flack had admitted this it was Edward who 
 spoke for the first time on his own initiative. 
 
 " I suppose you fellows who write know your way 
 about a bit," he suggested.
 
 136 GODFREY MERIVALE 
 
 Flack thought they did. "We know a thing or two 
 about London, at any rate," he said modestly. 
 
 "Ah!" said Raymond, his blue eyes shining. He 
 looked at his brother. 
 
 "Very good sport," suggested Edward. 
 
 Flack agreed that it was ; Raymond turned slightly 
 to scrutinise the barmaid again, which he did with 
 intelligence and deliberation. 
 
 " Smart girl that," said Flack, observing his glances. 
 
 "Is she?" said Raymond, with interest; and then the 
 bell rang. 
 
 " I say," whispered Jack to Godfrey, as they passed 
 into the auditorium, " I wish you'd tell me where you 
 hang out, will you ? " 
 
 Godfrey gave him the address, and thought no more of 
 them, not even of Edward and Raymond. Jack Merivale, 
 however, was not so forgetful ; he remembered his obscure 
 cousin, about whom he knew nothing, and whose existence 
 he had even forgotten to mention to his father. Godfrey 
 found him at his rooms one afternoon. 
 
 "Hulloa!" he greeted the journalist, "I thought I'd 
 look you up. I say, is that you that they say is fighting 
 old Hubert about his seat? " 
 
 "I'm being called to give evidence at the hearing of 
 the petition," said Godfrey, with some awkwardness. 
 
 "You wrote those articles, showing him up, did you? " 
 asked the ingenuous Jack. 
 
 Godfrey acknowledged it. 
 
 " By Jove! " said Jack, and turned to another subject 
 with such precipitation that it was clear what had been 
 the uppermost thought in his mind. " I say, Merivale, 
 Edward says you fellows get all sorts of chances. Couldn't 
 you get us on behind the scenes at the Gaiety some 
 night?" Godfrey smilingly disclaimed any intimate 
 association with the management of that theatre, or the 
 young ladies employed there.
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE 137 
 
 " Oh, I say ! " exclaimed Jack in disappointment. 
 
 "I'll give you tickets for the opening of the Corybantic," 
 said Godfrey, eyeing him with amusement. " I daresay 
 it will entertain you." 
 
 "Thanks, awfully," returned Jack, and pocketed the 
 cards without more ceremony. " I should like just to see 
 what it is. Edward says you ought to see these things. 
 He and Raymond are out every night while they're here. 
 But they'll be off again soon somewhere. I'm off at the 
 end of the year, you know." 
 
 Naturally Godfrey did not know, but learned from civil 
 inquiries that Jack Merivale had got a commission in the 
 Army, and was going out to India to join his regiment. 
 The youth of two-and-twenty drew Godfrey rather by his 
 negative qualities, than because of any excellence in his 
 intellect or moral character. He was frank, and he lacked 
 conceit ; he looked up to this new cousin, as to one with 
 infinite knowledge and indefinite opportunities, and it was 
 not at all infrequently that Godfrey received some such 
 note as this: " Dear Cousin, Could you possibly get me 
 
 a ticket for ? I've heard it's going to be ripping, and 
 
 there's no chance for me as one of the public, or I 
 wouldn't bother you " ; or as this : " Dear Cousin, What 
 about the Corybantic supper ? Is it possible? Raymond's 
 got an invite somehow." 
 
 The boy was healthy, as healthy as himself in his 
 outlook, and could take no harm in these excursions into 
 life, but when Flack took him in hand Godfrey interposed. 
 Jack Merivale was delighted with Flack, who in his turn 
 was at once pleased with an admirer and gratified with a 
 subject for experiment. The comedy ran a splendid course, 
 until Godfrey discovered his cousin late one night, in a 
 bar off the Strand, entertaining two of Flack's "lady 
 friends " to spirits, himself, between song and dance, 
 hilarious, dishevelled, and quarrelsome. 
 
 Godfrey ordered Flack then and there to a suitable and
 
 138 GODFREY MERIVALE 
 
 well-known region, and extricated the intoxicated youth, 
 amid the convivial jeers of the company, and the angry 
 expostulations of the victim. 
 
 "I'll see you damned, Merivale! I'll see you damned ! " 
 repeated the subaltern, but eventually was bundled into a 
 cab, pacified, and driven home in silence and the sulks. 
 
 This youth of two-and-twenty, susceptible and pliable, 
 but very honest and clean of mind, apologised, sub- 
 sequently, for his indecent behaviour, and in penitence 
 suffered a little lecture from his monitor. Godfrey had 
 developed a genuine liking for him, and took some trouble 
 to be kind to him, lest Flack, or even Edward and 
 Raymond, should pervert him from prudent courses. 
 
 " I like my liquor, Merivale, and I can carry it," he 
 said confidentially to Godfrey, " but I'm hanged if I can 
 stand spirits." 
 
 At Godfrey's rejoinder that there was no necessity that 
 he should, Jack showed doubt. But his innocence and 
 enthusiasm were most manifest at the theatre, which 
 he loved and frequented. It was here that by sheer 
 accident he came under the quick and raining eyes 
 of Laura. Godfrey had had his first real experience of 
 those lovers' quarrels which, mended and ended, go so 
 far to feed the flame of passion. He could not himself 
 think he was to blame, and yet, perhaps, he had been, 
 in his abrupt and male persistence. Thereby, no doubt, 
 he had wounded those delicate sensibilities which belong 
 to woman, lie so near the surface, and go such fathoms 
 deep. It was Colonel Sebright's ignorance of their en- 
 gagement that brought about the difference, an ignorance 
 which Godfrey regretted. He urged that her father should 
 be informed, and when Laura seemed to shrink from that 
 tremendous task, offered himself to undertake it 
 
 " I should be proud to give the news, dear," he said. 
 " Let me do it to-night," and, gently tender, " You must, 
 and shall ! "
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE 139 
 
 "You'll do nothing of the sort," said Laura quickly, 
 and the imperious sharpness of her tones astonished him. 
 " I am my own mistress, and will tell when I like." 
 
 Godfrey's spirit took fire in her anger. " And I am my 
 own master," he retorted. " It concerns me as much as 
 you." 
 
 No doubt this tiny dissension, as it were the merest 
 spark struck out in the conflict of two wills, would have 
 ended in peace, reunion, and an understanding ; but upon 
 that inflamed retort Aunt Julia entered, and the chance 
 was gone. It was owing, then, to this poor cause of 
 estrangement that Godfrey never learned of the intended 
 theatre-party, and was not invited to join it. The blow 
 fell upon him sharply when he saw Laura in the box and 
 noticed how she glowed in her beauty there, all thought- 
 less of him. She gathered his glances as a gem gathers 
 light, and the gloom swelled about his heart, as behind 
 Aunt Julia he made out a black-clad form. It was not 
 the Colonel. But if Laura had avenged herself she was 
 not aware of it, and instantly heaven opened in flower 
 above him, for the girl, sparkling in her evening gown, 
 cast her eyes about the stalls and recognised him. She 
 suffused with smiles, radiant and beautiful, and Godfrey's 
 face grew warm and his heart throbbed with the joy of 
 possession. 
 
 " I say! " exclaimed Jack Merivale at his side, " what 
 a ripping girl ! " 
 
 "Yes, she's very handsome, isn't she?" said Godfrey, 
 afraid that the even and dispassionate tones of the critic 
 were breaking in his voice. He added, "I'll present you, 
 if you like." 
 
 " Rather ! " said Jack. " You know her, then ? " 
 
 "Oh yes," returned Godfrey, with nonchalance, and 
 resisted bravely the temptation to say more. 
 
 The chance came to them during the interval, and 
 so cordial was Laura's greeting that Godfrey barely
 
 HO GODFREY MERIVALE 
 
 noticed that the man in the box was Strahan. The 
 financier sat at the back, very quiet and observant, 
 and after Jack's name had passed in the introduction 
 scrutinised that young man with interest. 
 
 " Your father's the banker, isn't he?" he asked genially. 
 Jack admitted it. "Ah, I know the firm well. I like 'em 
 better than these modern joint-stock affairs. There's an 
 air about them," with which respectable endeavour to 
 introduce sentiment into a business remark Strahan 
 turned to Godfrey. 
 
 " I'd forgotten you were a Merivale," he said amiably. 
 " You're a cousin, then ? " 
 
 "Why, yes," said Laura, embracing them all in her 
 smile. "Didn't you know? Mr. Merivale Mr. Godfrey, 
 I mean," and she looked with particular sweetness at him, 
 " is also a cousin of Mr. Hubert Merivale, the member of 
 Parliament. " 
 
 "Oh, old Hubert!" ejaculated young Merivale, who 
 was amazingly shy and awkward. "Yes, he's a cousin 
 too, isn't he, Merivale ? " 
 
 Godfrey, looking at the girl, thrilled with satisfaction 
 to see how her beauty engaged the boy and bewildered 
 him. He turned to address Miss Sebright, and Laura 
 talked with Jack. 
 
 " By Jove, she is a charming girl !" commented Jack 
 as they left the theatre. " Did you see her eyes? " 
 
 " Better come with me some day and call," said Godfrey, 
 not with generosity, but out of a selfishness that desired 
 to thrill again and out of patronage as well. 
 
 "Oh yes, thanks," returned Jack. "They've asked 
 me to call the old lady, you know," which news some- 
 what surprised Godfrey, who was aware that the "old 
 lady " rarely took the initiative. 
 
 The "sensation" of the Pontrack election had run its 
 course, depositions had been taken, and witnesses ex- 
 amined by lawyers on both sides. The trial promised to
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE 141 
 
 be interesting, and the Government was uneasy. It cared 
 little for Hubert Merivale, but much if its precious honour 
 should be stained, and dangerous weapons delivered into 
 the hands of its enemies. But in the middle of the pre- 
 parations came the news that the petition had been with- 
 drawn, and the public wondered at the unexpected 
 collapse, having no knowledge of its secret history. It 
 was, indeed, Wagge the restless, Wagge the ingenious, 
 who was responsible for the failure, Wagge with his 
 ferret instincts, and his intimate acquaintance with the 
 scandals of the county. Wagge's ingenuity, therefore, 
 and Power's fears prevailed, and Hubert Merivale received 
 the congratulations of his friends and colleagues. His 
 victory at the polls had come to be reduplicated by this 
 second defeat of the enemy, and the party press made 
 capital of the affair. The Comet wagged its head 
 roguishly, the more reputable papers complacently, and 
 the Argus stubbornly and sullenly maintained its position. 
 Upon the top of that news, Sir Francis Merivale, eighth 
 baronet, died suddenly on his Scottish estate, and the 
 triumphant Under-Secretary became Sir Hubert, ninth 
 of that line, and the owner of two old and beautiful 
 houses, and of a joint income with his wife of ^60,000 
 a year. It was, you would say, the grand climacteric of 
 Sir Hubert's life and fortunes. Yet the stage was not 
 so regarded by the man himself, whose cold nature 
 calculated on honours still higher. Smiling cordially 
 under the congratulations of his cousin, Roland, the 
 banker, Sir Hubert relaxed. 
 
 "Well it makes a difference, Roland," said he. 
 " Twenty thousand a year I got with Honoria. But 
 this is on other legs, you know. I'll confess I'm pleased. 
 Poor Frank had a good whack at life." 
 
 " He was little more than five-and-forty," said Roland 
 curtly. 
 
 "Well, he's gone," said Hubert also briefly, "and
 
 142 GODFREY MERIVALE 
 
 here's the ninth baronet, Roland, and what d'you say? 
 the first peer among the Merivales, eh? " 
 
 " And the last," snorted the banker drily. 
 
 Sir Hubert flushed brick-red. "Damn you!" he said 
 savagely, and, with equal ferocity, "don't make up your 
 mind about that. Don't be too sure about Jack." 
 
 Roland looked at him out of the white ambush of his 
 eyes, as if to inquire. "You mean " he began. 
 
 "Never mind what I mean. There is such a thing as 
 counting your chickens, Roland," returned the baronet, 
 recalling his good temper as he realised that Roland had 
 been surprised, and, of course, startled. 
 
 Jack Merivale, however, was not in the least concerned 
 as to the succession of the baronetcy ; at that moment he 
 was, as he had been for some weeks, in magic and delight- 
 ful chains to a woman. His looks devoured Laura with 
 the ardour of calf-love ; he held by her views now, and not 
 Godfrey's ; he had abandoned the pursuit of knowledge 
 in the many ways of life, and sat or kneeled at the feet 
 of his idol. And in that sweet and pleasant company he 
 grew more intoxicated. Laura's alluring ways entranced 
 him every time he saw her ; she could do with him what 
 she would, and he let her understand it, not by words, 
 but by the confession of his countenance. There were 
 his feelings engrossed too large and plain for any woman 
 to mistake, even if she had been devoid of vanity. Laura 
 was not wanting in that prime influence of the feminine 
 mind, and welcomed young Jack on his periodical visits 
 from Aldershot, where he was now stationed. He was 
 savagely rude to Widdowson, whom he regarded with the 
 contempt of healthy youth, and he considered Rowlands 
 a bore. His manner to the former, as indeed in less 
 degree to all those that were drawn within the circle of 
 Laura's beauty, was abrupt and haughty, which was 
 explained by people on the ground of his expectations. 
 He was heir-presumptive to the baronetcy, and would
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE 143 
 
 inherit not only the considerable rent-roll of the Pontrack 
 estates, but also his father's private fortune. Young 
 Merivale was an amazing "catch," as the gossips agreed, 
 and he was welcomed to open hearts in Kensington circles. 
 To Godfrey, then, who had been absent abroad upon some 
 serious errand for a few weeks, one evening comes young 
 Jack, his face glowing, his eyes bright, and his general 
 aspect glittering with satisfaction and excitement. The 
 facts nearest his heart soon broke out of keeping, as with 
 him they were wont to do, and Godfrey listened, with a 
 growing smile and an enlarging sense of wonder, to the 
 confidences of a lover. 
 
 " I tell you when I saw her first, it was all over with 
 me, Merivale," declared the lover ardently. "She's out 
 of mind the best girl I ever saw. You should see her 
 eyes when they look at you ! ... If I can't have her, 
 I don't want anyone, and that's all." 
 
 Godfrey smiled still, until he was assailed by remorse 
 of a sudden. The boy's flushed face rebuked him. 
 
 "I'm very sorry," he said. "I'd no idea of this, or 
 I would have told you. I am engaged to Miss Sebright." 
 
 The shock of the announcement blanched the pink face 
 before him. Jack opened his mouth, stammered, and, 
 "I say, I'm sorry," was all that struggled into definite 
 sound. Godfrey himself sat awkwardly silent. 
 
 " Have a cigarette," he suggested presently, with an 
 assumption of indifference. 
 
 " Thanks, very much," said Jack, and took one, lighted 
 it with quavering fingers, and got up. "Well, I must 
 go," he said, with awkward nonchalance. He held out 
 his hand hesitantly towards Godfrey a ceremony which 
 was not his custom half drew back, and knocked a 
 book to the floor. " Oh, I'm sorry," he said again, and, 
 stooping, picked it up. Somehow he got from the room, 
 leaving Godfrey very pitiful and swelling with ungenerous 
 pride.
 
 144 GODFREY MERIVALE 
 
 Poor John Roland went down to Aldershot and spent 
 a wretched week ; but that strong lode drew him, and 
 it was at the Kensington house that Godfrey next en- 
 countered him, on a Sunday afternoon. Godfrey had 
 reached the house earlier than usual, and, as a familiar, 
 had been ushered straight into the drawing-room, where 
 he saw Laura leaning back prettily on the sofa, and by 
 her Jack Merivale, newly risen to his feet, flushed and 
 frightened. Laura's lips were parted, showing her even 
 teeth, and a look of excitement was in her face. She 
 rose, her expression changing, and then smilingly wel- 
 comed the new-comer. 
 
 " I I'm afraid I must go," stammered young Merivale. 
 
 Godfrey eyed him in wonder, and asked coolly, "Are 
 you going ? " 
 
 With some explanation, launched and foundering in the 
 same breath, the subaltern got out of the house, and 
 Laura looked at Godfrey. His glance was inquiring. 
 
 "Mr. Merivale came to lunch," she said after a 
 moment's hesitation. " He's been rather foolish." 
 
 " Poor devil ! " said Godfrey, and put out his arm 
 towards her. Laura, however, had dropped away, and 
 apparently did not see it. 
 
 The blood beat its way noisily through Jack Merivale's 
 brain as he drove home. He had done that which was 
 unpardonable, and had been found out, surprised in the very 
 act. The scene he had gone through repeated itself in 
 his mind with shameful comments. Laura had been good 
 enough, in answering a letter, to invite him to lunch ; 
 he had found Colonel Sebright away, and Miss Sebright 
 pensive. Laura alone was bright and friendly. He had 
 not meant to assume any intimacy after what Godfrey had 
 told him, but it was so hard ... so hard. ... It 
 had been rendered impossible not to slip, to steal, to slide 
 into dishonour. And yet Laura had questioned him of 
 Godfrey, which should, of course, have kept his cousin 
 in his thoughts.
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE 145 
 
 "Now what's the exact relationship between you?" 
 she asked gaily. 
 
 And to that poor unquestioning 1 Jack could only 
 answer, " I don't know where he comes in somewhere, 
 I suppose." 
 
 And then they had talked of Yorkshire, of Pontrack, 
 and of his father's famous pictures, which the world 
 might see "by card" on certain days. The fragrance 
 and noise of her gown, the breath of her life, the 
 contiguity upon the sofa all these factors united in the 
 conflagration. He had seized her hand, and kissed it, 
 and out of those too-lovely eyes, which he had so often 
 celebrated, poured that which made him fear. She pulled 
 her fingers gently from him. Was she angry ? Her face 
 was strange, a little colour in her cheeks. 
 
 Upon this scene did Godfrey enter, and in an instant 
 the poor youth was abashed, ashamed, and afraid. He 
 fled like a criminal speeding from justice. 
 
 Upon the following day Godfrey was amazed by the 
 receipt of a letter, bearing the Aldershot postmark. It 
 was signed, "Yours always sincerely," and contained 
 a narrative and a confession. He had examined his 
 conscience, poor soul, and discovered that he was dis- 
 graced. "After what you told me I had no right, I 
 should have cleared out, but well, I don't know how 
 it was, but it was devilish hard ; and when I went I 
 didn't mean anything. I thought I could trust myself. 
 But I got I behaved like a beast, and it's right that 
 you should know. My feelings will never alter, but she 
 shall never see my face again." 
 
 A smile, kindly but patronising in its origin, played 
 about Godfrey's mouth as he read. " Good Lord ! " said 
 he, "does the blessed boy think he's all-conquering?" 
 But the confession touched him, nevertheless, and he 
 replied to it at once in an epistle, which by emphasising 
 the remarkable personality of Laura minimised as a
 
 146 GODFREY MERIVALE 
 
 venial matter, therefore, the error into which his young 
 friend had been betrayed. He thought he came to a 
 neat conclusion. " Being what she is I might have been 
 justly annoyed had you not felt as you did." He sealed 
 the letter, saying "virginal" to himself with a com- 
 placent smile, " a good boy, a very good boy." 
 
 Lovers lose their honour if they be true lovers ; for 
 there is no room in the heart save for devotion only. 
 
 " I should not love thee, dear, so well, 
 Loved I not honour more," 
 
 was written by no passionate spirit, but by a dabbler 
 in the art of love, a virtuoso, a dilettante, an inconstant 
 vagabond, with whom love was one of many pleasant 
 pastimes, as the dice, the play, the dance, or the duello. 
 Being a true lover, with no scruples, and an integral 
 faith in his lady, Godfrey carried the letter to Laura and 
 smilingly watched her read it. 
 
 "What do you think? Poor chap! Would you ever 
 have supposed it? " he asked her. 
 
 Laura's gaze lingered upon the sheet longer than was 
 necessary ; she read deliberately, and then folded it with 
 a sharp motion of her hands. 
 
 "People have admired me, "she said in a strange voice. 
 "I suppose you think I'm too old," and there was un- 
 doubtedly a sneer in her tones. Godfrey was astonished. 
 
 " My dear Laura, what's the matter? " he said hastily. 
 " Of course I didn't mean good heavens! you know well 
 enough only it seemed seemed odd, didn't it? " 
 
 "Oh yes, very odd," she said with a forced laugh, 
 and then, more like herself, " He's very young to think 
 of such things, of course ..." and after a pause, " It's 
 true he did kiss my hand. I suppose I ought to have 
 snatched it away sooner." 
 
 Godfrey laughed. " I don't grudge him so much, my 
 sweet, since I have all."
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE 147 
 
 Laura turned and rang the bell brusquely for tea. 
 
 Young Jack Merivale kept his word, and Laura never 
 saw his face again, upon which reflecting Godfrey was 
 philosophical. He did not know, it is true, how much 
 the subaltern had resisted, and heard nothing of the 
 invitations which Julia Sebright had written to Aldershot, 
 and which had been most courteously and elaborately 
 declined on the ground of " work." But Godfrey's 
 thoughts had recurred to the youth more than once, 
 and he was able to appreciate the stubborn loyalty. Jack 
 had no brains, to be sure, which made him take the course 
 he did. "Good Lord! I would not have done it," said 
 Godfrey to himself. " I would have given the other 
 fellow notice and entered the lists. Why the devil will 
 people look upon an engagement as a marriage? It 
 is one's right, liberty, and duty to be exposed to tests 
 during such a time." This sentiment he echoed to Laura 
 in his laughing way, when the case of poor Jack was 
 referred to. But Laura also laughed, and with a shrug 
 of her shoulders spoke of precocious boys, and poor 
 innocence, and the vanity of hobbledehoys which showed 
 how right Godfrey was in his sublime confidence. 
 
 The summer passed, the Sebrights vanished from town, 
 and no open declaration of the engagement had been 
 made by Laura. Widdowson and Rowlands attended the 
 house after their custom, and if the barrister wondered 
 why the betrothal was not announced he said nothing 
 openly, being a secretive man. Moreover, as he re- 
 minded himself, he had known Laura for some years. 
 It was late autumn when Jack Merivale came up from 
 Aldershot on his way to Southampton to embark for India. 
 He lunched cordially with Godfrey the day before his de- 
 parture at a delightful restaurant known to the pressman. 
 It was odd that while Godfrey recalled clearly the occasion 
 of their last meeting and its surprises, Jack Merivale 
 seemed to have forgotten the episode entirely. He was
 
 148 GODFREY MERIVALE 
 
 vastly excited at the prospect of active service somewhere, 
 stated with great delight that he would not be back for 
 years, and wound up by declaring his intention to make 
 a name for himself. 
 
 "You'll have to put me in the Argus before long, 
 old chap, I'll swear," he said, with a sheepish smile ; 
 and when Godfrey said that nothing would give him 
 greater satisfaction, and that he would see to it per- 
 sonally, the youth, with a note of anxiety, continued, 
 " They suppress names sometimes in the papers, don't 
 they ? I mean there's influences underground, and that 
 sort of thing. I know our major's been made a dead 
 set at, he says. They never will mention his name." 
 
 " Oh, we'll mention yours," vowed Godfrey, much 
 amused, and toasted him and his future fame. 
 
 He even went so far as to see the traveller off at 
 Waterloo the next day, and found a crowd of passengers 
 bound for Southampton, as well as a number of less 
 adventurous or less intimate friends like himself. Between 
 his alarms and excursions on the platform Jack spied 
 Godfrey and took him to his carriage. A clean-shaven, 
 grey-haired man, large of face and deliberate of eye, 
 stood near, talking with others. 
 
 " I say, father," said Jack, bursting in on this conversa- 
 tion, " this is Godfrey Merivale I told you about the other 
 day. This is my father, Merivale." 
 
 " How d'you do ? " said Roland's voice, cold and short, 
 after a moment's inspection ; and then to his son, " It's 
 time we took our seats, Jack." 
 
 Godfrey stood back and waved a hand to his friend 
 as the train rolled under the arches. 
 
 The trooper lay rocking in the water, and as he landed 
 on the pier Roland, the banker, cast a glance back at 
 its monstrous proportions. He could not distinguish the 
 figures on deck, but Jack had been in the stern, and his 
 glance went towards the taffrail, whence a flag hung and
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE 149 
 
 weakly fluttered. He stood for some five minutes in the 
 chill air, watching, and gradually over the harbour stole 
 the raw mists of that November evening. They drew 
 down upon the trooper, insensibly swarmed about her, 
 and then points of light sprang up in the cold greyness. 
 She seemed now removed by this invasion of night to 
 a greater distance. A bugle sang out across the water 
 ... a siren trumpeted. 
 
 Roland Merivale read his papers all the way to London, 
 and it was long dark when he reached his home. The 
 house was bright and warm; the appointments of the 
 library which he entered spoke of a taste that was at 
 least cultivated and had been served by deep pockets. 
 The fire shone on the oaken wainscot. He went up to 
 a picture on the wall and studied it carefully. 
 
 " It's a Donatello, I have no doubt," he said, "although 
 it's possible ..." He paused, and, walking to his 
 shelves, took down a volume of Morelli, and sat down 
 before the fire to read. 
 
 This Merivale had broken with many traditions of the 
 house ; he was temperate, as many of his kinsmen had 
 been in later days ; he was of a fine animal nature, as they 
 all ; but he was the first Merivale who ever dabbled in 
 the arts. His house was decorated with the offspring of 
 his taste ; he professed preferences in literature, and he 
 had written in middle life an indifferent treatise on certain 
 Italian painters, with illustrations. The illustrations sold 
 the book, which was of luxurious appearance and fine 
 margins; and upon that Mr. Roland Merivale, j. P., jumped 
 into the position of an authority upon art. His repute, 
 therefore, as a connoisseur and a generous patron as well, 
 singled him out for notice, and he was selected as a 
 trustee of one, at least, of our national museums. By 
 what trick and with what design had nature flung over 
 this barbarian the mantle of aesthetics ? As savage as the 
 primal man in his caves ran Mr. Merivale's blood, and as
 
 150 GODFREY MERIVALE 
 
 cold ; yet his leisure was absorbed in the pursuit of art, 
 art that affected the current of that blood with not one 
 thrill or pause. His admiration was intellectual, had 
 been beaten out by pertinacity; but he was well known as 
 an authority, an expert to whose knowledge the national 
 treasures might be safely entrusted. 
 
 In the middle of his reading the banker suddenly put 
 down the book, struck by a new thought, and fetched out 
 of his bookcase the last issue of Debrett. Turning the 
 pages rapidly he came to the name of Merivale, and 
 halted. He had not looked up the family for years, and 
 now he went carefully through the small type, searching 
 for a name. 
 
 "Godfrey!" he said. "Godfrey! There's no such 
 person. Who the deuce has Jack picked up? " 
 
 And then his finger stopped in its passage down the 
 page. 
 
 " Edward, b. 1769, Vicar of Ayndon . . . had issue 
 Godfrey, b. 1793 . . . had issue Roland, b. 1821, died 1885, 
 m. Charlotte, dau. of Jonathan Mersey . . . had issue, 
 Godfrey, b. 1864. ..." 
 
 Roland, the banker, studied this small type through his 
 glasses in silence, and then, " Humph ! " he said. " From 
 the fourth baronet ! There are plenty of us about every- 
 where." He picked up Morelli again, and was soon 
 engrossed in those adventurous pages.
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 WITH the approach of spring 1 , that spring from 
 which he dated his most enchanted life, Godfrey 
 awoke out of dreams, and faced the future with some 
 practical resolution. It was true that he had besought 
 Laura many times, not only that their engagement should 
 be published, but that a term should be placed upon their 
 celibacy. The girl, however, had demurred ; she was 
 happy as she was, she declared, and did not want to take 
 a leap which might break the pleasant course they were 
 on. Indeed, this objection could not but flatter the man, 
 who was, nevertheless, by no means of the same opinion. 
 Still, if Laura lingered in that happy garden of dreams, 
 so would he linger with her, not oblivious of that which 
 was to come nay, tremulously conscious of it but 
 plucking delight out of the moments as they ran, to-day, 
 to-morrow, and for ever. March winds now blew across 
 the awakening city, the sky opened in blue spaces, and 
 clouds, now no longer impenetrable, dingy blankets upon 
 the face of the world, but rolling and glistening cumuli, 
 drifted upon azure seas of light. The songbirds warbled 
 in the parks and gardens and squares ; the sparrow 
 chissicked on the housetops and in the streets, and in one 
 young man's heart love stirred and swelled, demanding its 
 fruition. These sentiments, grown in him deeply at length, 
 and attended with delicious hopes and tendernesses, took 
 him to his Laura's side, and strengthened him once more 
 to raise the question. But Laura once more put him off. 
 very sweetly and very bashfully. She was not ready ;
 
 $52 GODFREY MERIVALE 
 
 and, being pressed, said, hesitatingly, that he might speak 
 again a little later. The house at Kensington was just 
 now in a merry mood. Colonel Sebright, under the 
 tuition of that capable financier, Strahan, had made 
 money, and was swallowed by a combination of delight 
 and self-satisfaction. 
 
 "Strahan put me in the way of it, it's true," he told 
 Godfrey, in an off-hand manner. " He's a good chap, is 
 Strahan of course not quite . . .eh? But I may say, 
 if I hadn't known when to sell, I should have been left to 
 carry the baby, eh, Merivale ? " 
 
 The Colonel's eyes twinkled at the neatness of his wit, 
 as well as with the complacency of the gifted. 
 
 " You have to know a lot about these things, Merivale," 
 he pursued, following his pleasant reflections. "There 
 are plenty of sharks, you know. And if you don't use 
 your judgment at the right time you'll be stuck, my boy. 
 I shouldn't advise everyone to try this speculation game, 
 not unless they're level-headed. Sell at the highest and 
 buy at the lowest; that's how money's made," which, 
 besides being intelligible to the simplest intellect, had 
 the advantage of being one of Mr. Strahan's favourite 
 axioms. 
 
 The speculations into which the Colonel had been 
 admitted had added to the fortunes of his friend also ; 
 who had risen from the proud position of being able to 
 "write a cheque for ^100,000" to the still prouder of 
 owning a quarter of a million in "golden sovereigns," as 
 he said, together with a vast sum "on paper." No 
 wonder that the household in Kensington beamed and 
 caracoled and curvetted itself unto the golden spring. 
 Godfrey was witness to its joy and prosperity, and 
 rejoiced with the Colonel and Laura. Julia Sebright, 
 who had no idea of the value of money partly because 
 she had never lacked enough for her simple wants, and 
 partly out of constitutional inability to understand was
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE 153 
 
 the only member of the family whom this accession left 
 calm. Strahan took his payment in the honest and 
 patent delight of father and daughter. 
 
 "Gad! we did it that time, Strahan, eh?" said the 
 Colonel, with pride. The financier's quiet features worked 
 slowly. 
 
 "It came off all right," he replied modestly, with his 
 eyes on Laura ; and to Godfrey, " You might have done 
 a bit with us, if I'd seen you, Mr. Merivale. You follow 
 me, and it'll be a picnic for my friends." 
 
 To Laura later Mr. Strahan gave vent to his opinions 
 on pressmen. "Poor devils! they sit up all hours for 
 a screw my secretary would turn up his nose at. What 
 does our friend make? Three or four hundred, I sup- 
 pose?" He shrugged his shoulders. "I made that 
 before I was twenty-one. Now, Miss Laura, will you be 
 good enough to play one of your classical pieces ? " 
 
 The financier, who knew his own mind and could pick 
 out his own road definitely in the battlefield of life, clung 
 hopefully and with faith to music as the characteristic 
 of the drawing-room. He was stayed on it, as the 
 hungry man is stayed with the midday joint. The 
 conventions of society and fashion demanded music 
 in the drawing-room, and Mr. Strahan in company was 
 rigidly conventional. Laura, as she obediently sought the 
 piano, with susurrus of her gown, winced at Strahan's 
 language. 
 
 " He is so ... I wish he wouldn't," she said to Aunt 
 Julia afterwards, in discussing the evening. And Julia 
 Sebright, who knew nothing of irony, replied, " So do I 
 . . . It's true he is ..." 
 
 Once Laura had said, "It is a pity people like that 
 have money," but now the regret was inverted, "It is 
 a pity people who have money are like that." There is, 
 if you will observe, a yawning difference. 
 
 The postponement enjoined by the girl did not last long,
 
 154 GODFREY MERIVALE 
 
 for the hot, impatient blood of the Merivales broke out of 
 hand, and besieged her again. The time and the occasion 
 as well had seemed propitious, although he had not de- 
 liberately prepared for either ; for as upon that day, now 
 seeming so greatly distant, when he had sounded her 
 affections, and her face had rested first upon his breast, 
 so in these same gardens and upon such a day they 
 walked together. It may have been the coincidence 
 that tempted him, and kindled in his heart that sudden 
 fire. 
 
 He swept round on her in the deeps of the wood, and 
 holding her hands in his pleaded with her for his love. 
 The flush which had mounted to Laura's face faded 
 slowly, and she withdrew her hands. 
 
 "You mustn't . . . really, you mustn't!" she said 
 hurriedly. " It is . . . there are so many people about," 
 and on a sharper note, " It's like Greenwich Park." 
 
 " Good God ! " he cried quickly. " And don't we meet 
 there aren't we on the same level, the Greenwich Parker 
 and I ? There is nothing but that one thing in me, and 
 that is want of you. I can't help Kensington," he said 
 desperately. 
 
 "It is an odd moment to choose," said Laura, calmly 
 critical. " It's not fair to me." 
 
 "Well, I will choose another," he declared. "But 
 now answer me Laura, Laura, answer me." 
 
 Laura looked askew, and swung her sunshade. " I 
 have sometimes begun to wonder," she said thoughtfully, 
 with her eyes upon a group of playing children, "if we 
 were really suited to one another." 
 
 "Good heavens! Laura," he burst out, "what a 
 monstrous idea ! Suited ! It is a tradesman's word, 
 a haggler's word. It doesn't come into my dictionary." 
 
 She did not answer ; she had, in the vulgar metaphor, 
 " flown her kite"; he would have seized her hand, but she 
 withdrew a little, and then spoke.
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE 155 
 
 "You are too dreadful, Godfrey," she said, with her 
 sweet, familiar smile; "I will never come out with you 
 again." 
 
 He laughed with awkward joy, and they walked on. 
 
 "Do you remember when we walked here last year?" 
 asked he at last. " It was May, and now it is April." 
 
 "Yes," said Laura indecisively. 
 
 "Sit down, dearest," he went on, moved again to the 
 centre of his being by the remembrance. " Sit down, as 
 we did then." 
 
 Laura halted hesitatingly, and looked about her, almost 
 as one searching for help. But no help came, and, yield- 
 ing to his masterful mood, she sat down. Her gloved 
 hand was in her lap, and he made a motion to take it. 
 She resisted. 
 
 "No more Greenwich Park, please," she said, laughing 
 awkwardly. 
 
 He sat watching her profile with ardent and admiring 
 eyes ; the tip of the delicate nose drew down as she 
 moistened her lips ; the lips were an arc of loveliness. 
 A dagger struck at his heart. 
 
 "Laura," said he, fumbling among his words, shame 
 and anguish together at his heart, " I want you to tell 
 me you never you never cared for . . . that man you 
 were engaged to." 
 
 Laura turned sharply, and shot a glance at him. 
 
 "Of course I didn't," she said presently. "I should 
 think facts would speak for themselves." 
 
 "Of course," he assented eagerly, "I know it, but I 
 wanted to hear you say it. I wonder . . . did he care 
 much for you ? " 
 
 " I suppose so," said Laura impatiently. " I wish you 
 wouldn't ask those questions. It's not fair it's it's 
 ungenerous and . . . mean." 
 
 "No, no, dear," he pleaded. "It's only that I can't 
 bear to think that anyone has ever . . . kissed your lips.
 
 156 GODFREY MERIVALE 
 
 Oh, it is hateful! " he broke forth vehemently, the storm 
 in him now master of his mind. 
 
 " It certainly is hateful," said Laura indignantly, and 
 she flushed deep, turning her angry eyes on him. "What 
 right have you to ask me such questions, or to say such 
 things about me ? It is ungentlemanly ; it is conduct 
 that no one but a ... that no gentleman would be 
 guilty of." 
 
 " I have every right," flared forth Godfrey, who was 
 balancing on wire-drawn nerves. "Since I love you, I 
 have every right to know, and to resent. . . . Oh, but I 
 am not blaming you, dear ; it's only myself that I pity 
 I who was not there. You must have loved him." 
 
 "It is monstrous," said Laura angrily. " I will not 
 stay here ... I think it's quite time you went. ..." 
 She moved hastily away. 
 
 "Laura, Laura," he implored her, but she went on. 
 He sped after her. "Dear," he whispered, "don't, oh, 
 don't ! it's only that I love you so. I have no right." 
 
 "I see what I said was true," said she shortly; "we 
 are not fitted to each other. If you please, I would 
 rather go alone." 
 
 He swung her round with what was even a brutal 
 twist of his arm. "No," he said in another voice, 
 "you're not going like that. I ... I ... I want you 
 to withdraw that. " 
 
 "I will withdraw nothing!" said Laura furiously. 
 " How dare you stop me?" 
 
 His anger was burning now as briskly as her own, 
 but he held himself resolutely in check. " I will not stop 
 you," he said. "You are free to go. But there are 
 some people staring there, and ..." 
 
 " Oh, it is you have brought me to this ! " she broke out 
 bitterly. 
 
 "Yes . . . " he assented, with laboured calm. " I will 
 walk with you to the Gore ; we need not speak."
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE 157 
 
 " No, we need not speak," she said coldly. 
 
 They passed the inquisitive group, and it was Laura 
 who broke the compact. Her serene and equable face 
 was presented to the strangers, as if in passing curiosity ; 
 and with that instinct of deception inherent in her sex, 
 she paused, lifted a pretty arm, and pointed. 
 
 " How delightful those trees are ! " she said admiringly. 
 
 "Very," ejaculated Godfrey, startled. 
 
 They went on and reached the road in silence. 
 
 "Good-bye," said Laura. 
 
 "Good-bye," said Godfrey, and lingered wistful, all his 
 resentment gone. Her face was kindly, but grave. 
 
 " May I " he began. 
 
 " No, no ! not yet, Godfrey," she made answer quickly; 
 " I want to think. Good-bye." 
 
 Thus, then, in a blue and tranquil sky emerged storms 
 and thunder. Upon his breakfast-table the next morning 
 was a letter in Laura's hand, which he opened with 
 tremors and hopes. It was very kind, its breath was the 
 breath of affection and forgiveness, its note was gentle, 
 an excellent thing in woman. It contained the results of 
 Laura's deliberate and mature reflections ; and in the 
 light of these, " with nearly a whole year's space to con- 
 sider and test myself and you," she had come to the 
 conclusion that they were unfitted for each other. 
 
 Godfrey gasped and shook. Was this a jest? No, 
 but surely an exquisite means of punishing him, even 
 (he thought bitterly) the overflow of her petulance. Of 
 course it was ridiculous to suppose that this silly letter 
 was to be accepted as a document between them. He 
 laughed at the idea, and, propping the note against his 
 coffee-pot, read it again. " I shall always regret that this 
 decision was forced upon me," he read, "but never that 
 I have had the privilege of your friendship and society 
 for so long." 
 
 Great God ! What did it mean ? There was some-
 
 158 GODFREY MERIVALE 
 
 thing here, not wholly jocular, something . . . "Always 
 your sincere friend, Laura Sebright. ..." 
 
 He remembered "Yours " . . . " Yours affectionately " 
 . . . "Yours only" . . . "Your Laura" . . . "Yours 
 now and always "... Yours everything but " Your 
 sincere friend." Friend! Was the girl mad? Who 
 wanted a friend ? He wanted . . . The full force of the 
 discovery broke in on him, as if the way into his con- 
 sciousness had been at last opened. With horrible sharp- 
 ness and brightness, the facts stood out ; he realised 
 then with an intensity with which he had realised noth- 
 ing before in his life. A long, long vista, and over 
 that walked solitary . . . Good heavens ! The fatuity, 
 the absurdity, the incongruity of the idea ! It was a jest 
 for Punch. A new Godfrey Merivale had grown up since 
 that lovely May, and now he was alone, wanting his 
 re-creator who had turned upon him, mocked him, who 
 denied her handiwork, and abandoned that fine creature 
 to unbelief and infidelity. There was the point. Should 
 she discard him thus, it was to broken idols she sent him. 
 He must set up false gods, and serve if he did not worship 
 before them. Maybe if that goddess, cold and implacable, 
 should see him from afar engaged in idolatry, she would 
 be smitten at heart, repent, and re-anoint him to her own 
 shrine. 
 
 So far he had carried his imagination without crediting 
 the irrevocableness of this austere renunciation, nor did 
 he credit it until he saw Laura face to face. She was in 
 another mood than that in which he had left her in the 
 Kensington road, in a mood which vastly became her. 
 A little pale, more than a little beautiful, and gracile as 
 a lovely animal, she moved swiftly to him on his entrance. 
 She proffered her hand, but not her lips oh, not her lips ! 
 He took it, paled, and sat down at her bidding. 
 
 "I'm glad you came," she said, and her voice was low 
 and sweet. "I'm feeling very old, Godfrey, and I was 
 afraid you'd never come again,"
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE 159 
 
 " Did you think I would take that " he said. 
 
 " It has hurt me more than I can say," she went on 
 gently. " I feel old. I wonder if it has hurt you as 
 much?" 
 
 " Hurt ! " he said. "It is like daggers. Do you know 
 the mermaid that walked on knives? I'm like that, but 
 they have been in my heart." 
 
 Laura was pensive, playing restlessly with her ring. 
 "I would so much rather not," she resumed presently. 
 " I can guess that you are feeling it, but please think I 
 do. I do. But it had to be." 
 
 "Laura, "said Godfrey firmly, "this, of course, is not 
 the end. We must talk about it." 
 
 " I hope it is not the end of our . . . our friendship," 
 said Laura helplessly. " But it must be the end of all 
 else." 
 
 Her pitifulness should have made an appeal to his 
 sympathy, for was she not at the mercy of a masterful 
 man, and a man at his worst despoiled in his most 
 imperious sentiments ? But Godfrey took no heed of her 
 tone. He was fighting for more than life, which is for 
 hope ; for hope is greater than life, and by hope life 
 hangs, and is made tolerable or happy. 
 
 " You have said that we are unsuited to each other," 
 he began, as if (poor creature) the occasion was one for 
 argument. "I I don't agree. Show me how we are; 
 and if we were," shouted the lover, " I would not care 
 a damn." 
 
 " Hush ! " said Laura, shrinking from his violence, but 
 showing no displeasure at such foul language. "When 
 I say that we are not suited to each other," she pursued 
 in her low and even voice, "I mean, Godfrey, that we 
 look at things from different points of view. We see 
 different sides of the shield, isn't it?" 
 
 " They make up one shield," said Godfrey triumphantly. 
 
 "Yes," she assented, fingering her way; "but ours
 
 160 GODFREY MERIVALE 
 
 don't, you see. We should always stand on opposite 
 sides and shout at each other." 
 
 "This is nonsense," said he roughly, "simple and 
 absolute nonsense." 
 
 " If you like to take that view of what I say " said 
 
 Laura coldly. 
 
 "No, no, no," said he, imploring her. "Go on, oh, 
 go on say what you will, dear. I will listen to any- 
 thing, but I will not endure it. You must pardon me. But 
 we love each other, and surely that is enough, more than 
 enough, to prevail over any difference or conflict in our 
 characters or dispositions." 
 
 He had schooled himself to speak without emotion ; he 
 had better have fallen on her like a raging tornado. 
 
 "One cannot argue about it," said Laura, with quiet 
 dignity and great veracity. 
 
 "But we must we must!" he said desperately. "I 
 am not going away like this. Do you suppose I am, 
 after after all we have been to each other?" 
 
 "I am quite sure, Godfrey," said Laura firmly, "that 
 you will behave like a gentleman in the matter." 
 
 " I will behave as one who loves you," he said between 
 his teeth. " I recognise no other quality." 
 
 "If that is so," said Laura, still very much mistress 
 of herself, " we had better not continue this meeting. It 
 is painful." 
 
 He burst forth on her with words of reproach. " Good 
 heavens! that I have held you in my arms and strained 
 you to me ! That I that I " 
 
 His emotion choked him. 
 
 "See," she answered softly, and touched his arm, the 
 gleam of dew in her eyes, "I won't forget things, I cannot 
 forget things, but it is not possible. Believe me ; I have 
 thought it out." 
 
 " But you give me no reason," he said wildly, and then 
 straightway the strength of her beauty devoured him.
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE 161 
 
 A little locket rose on her bare bosom (for it was evening), 
 her long white arms gleamed in the gaslight, and the 
 flame of the spring fire turned her hair to redness. Every 
 line, arch, and sweep of her body seemed to sway in the 
 glow of the hearth, and to rush upon him simultaneously. 
 He caught her with both arms, swung her to him, in 
 despite of her cry, and, lifting her almost from the floor, 
 flooded her face with kisses. She lay helpless and speech- 
 less in his arms, stirring faintly, but no more, until at 
 length, his mad muscles yielding, she felt the floor firmly 
 under her feet. One pretty golden slipper had fallen 
 from the small foot. She gazed at him, abashed, and 
 confounded in the glory and shame of that stolen sur- 
 render. 
 
 "You should not," she said weakly and breathlessly. 
 " It was very cruel. You must go." 
 
 His cogent passion spent, he took her at her word, and 
 if he had not, who knows? . . . But that was farewell, 
 long in the saying and of linked sweetness, out of which 
 all fire was burned in that instant, and in which all desire 
 was satiate by reason of the numbness of his spirit. The 
 flame which had carried him thus far was spent ; he turned, 
 and without a word went down the stair. 
 
 "And tho* she saw all Heav'n in flower above, 
 She would not love . . . she would not love." 
 
 At the door of the boudoir below he met Julia Sebright, 
 whose observant eyes wandered over his face. 
 
 "Going, Mr. Merivale ? " she asked. 
 
 "Yes, Miss Sebright," he answered. "Good-bye." 
 
 She did not respond to the hand, but said in a friendly 
 voice, " You will be coming soon again? " 
 
 " Oh yes," he said vacantly. 
 
 "Good-bye, Mr. Merivale." 
 
 She watched him out of the hall door and went up 
 to her niece. 
 
 M
 
 i6 2 GODFREY MERIVALE 
 
 "Why wasn't it possible?" she asked abruptly. 
 " Surely you have had time enough by now." 
 
 "Oh, it wasn't, and that's all," said Laura crossly; 
 she was swaying 1 herself irritably in a chair, strangely 
 disturbed rocked, indeed, by emotions that had never 
 before come so far into the light 
 
 "He has four hundred a year, hasn't he?" pursued 
 Julia. "And there is your mother's three hundred you 
 have. You could have easily managed on that." 
 
 "Seven hundred!" said Laura, with a hard laugh. 
 "Thank you, my dear aunt, for nothing," with which she 
 left the room abruptly. 
 
 Yet this was not quite the end, for Laura wrote to him 
 within two days, begging him to think kindly of her, to 
 judge that it was all for the best, declaring that she would 
 not dream of parting with his presents, which were now 
 dear memories, and trusting that they might always 
 remain what they had always been under everything else 
 friends. 
 
 In the madness of his reaction he contemptuously 
 refused the offer. "All or nothing," he said bravely, 
 with that swaggering intolerance which constitutes 
 sincerity. It was not destined to be all or nothing, but 
 the phrase and its churlish but heroic significance soothed 
 his sore spirit. For, indeed, he was going through 
 twisted lanes of pain, and nights of wakefulness and 
 travail. He fingered revolvers and let them drop ; he 
 sat over his work with a bloodless face ; he haunted 
 taverns with Flack and his friends. Late one Saturday 
 night, as Rowlands was passing a well-known inn in 
 Fleet Street on the way to his chambers, a body flew 
 out of the open doors and struck against him. It re- 
 covered and apologised with an awkward laugh, and it 
 was then that he recognised Godfrey. 
 
 " Hulloa !" he said, "hulloa, young man! What's this? 
 Can't you let peaceful travellers alone ? " Godfrey made
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE 163 
 
 some jesting answer, and Rowlands held him by the arm. 
 " Look here, better come in with me," he said. 
 
 "You think I'm drunk," said Godfrey noisily. "I'm 
 damned if I am ! " 
 
 "Well, you're too near to a hiccough for comfort," 
 said sensible Rowlands. " Come into my rooms ; they're 
 quite close. I want to talk with you." 
 
 Reluctantly Godfrey obeyed, and was soon seated in a 
 chair in the barrister's snug study. A capacious china jar 
 holding tobacco stood on the table, also a volume of the 
 latest biography, two law books, a green-shaded reading- 
 lamp, and a pipe and matches. In close neighbourhood a 
 decanter, a glass, and a bottle of soda-water in its stand 
 saluted the eye. It was formal and comfortable in its 
 large orderliness, but betrayed no character beyond 
 English self-respect. Godfrey stared moodily at the 
 table, sorry now that he had been persuaded to enter. 
 
 "Well," said Rowlands, not using too much ceremony 
 with this roysterer. "Are you celebrating a bump ? " 
 
 "No," said Godfrey abruptly. 
 
 "Let me see," pursued Rowlands, with the poker in 
 his hand, for it was a cold night, "you're not a University 
 man, I think." 
 
 " No," said Godfrey again. 
 
 "What's the matter, Merivale?" Godfrey made no 
 answer. His eye was shot with blood. "I suppose I 
 know I suppose I can guess what's the matter," went on 
 Rowlands presently. "Look here, I won't ask you to 
 have a drink, as I think you've had enough. You will 
 excuse me helping myself, won't you? " He poured some 
 whisky into his glass, and deftly opened the soda-water. 
 
 "You see, Merivale," he observed, with rather a 
 pleasant smile, "it hasn't driven me to drink." 
 
 A savage snort of laughter issued from Godfrey. 
 
 "Good God, man! are you comparing " He did 
 
 not finish his sentence, which seemed suddenly futile.
 
 164 GODFREY MERIVALE 
 
 " I can't say I'm surprised," said Rowlands, paying no 
 heed to this outburst ; " though please notice that I never 
 told you so. You see, Laura has been engaged before. 
 I didn't tell you it was more than once, did I ? No ; I 
 didn't think it would be fair." 
 
 " More than once? " repeated Godfrey. 
 
 "There was Legge, and before him Jarvis, whom I 
 don't suppose you've seen. Only twice. As a matter of 
 fact, Miss Laura keeps clear of engagements as a rule. 
 She doesn't go so far." 
 
 "And you" broke out Godfrey in contempt, " and you 
 say you care for her ! " 
 
 "I have cared for her," said Rowlands, sipping his 
 whisky, and thoughtfully, " for the last five years. I 
 suppose I shall always care for her," he added simply. 
 
 " Oh, heart of wood, heart of wood ! " said Godfrey in 
 his soul, and watched him fill his pipe slowly. 
 
 "I'm really sorry, Merivale," said Rowlands. "It 
 would have been no use to warn you. But I think I 
 would take another cure." 
 
 " Do you suppose I am going to be a damned fool all 
 my life?" asked Godfrey irritably, and added, "Good 
 night, Rowlands," and went. 
 
 This scene comes to an end, and with it the first great 
 division of Godfrey Merivale's life, very briefly. The 
 curtain discovers Rowland's chambers once again, and 
 once again it is night. In truth, the date is but three 
 weeks later, in the heart of that fair, false month of 
 May, sacred to the vows of lovers, and sacrosanct in 
 Godfrey's bitter heart. 
 
 "You came about the news, I suppose," said the 
 barrister, looking up at his guest after the greetings. 
 
 " News ! " echoed Godfrey ; " no. What news ? " 
 
 " Oh," said Rowlands, and composed his face and 
 pursed his lips, " I thought you had heard." 
 
 "You mean "
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE 165 
 
 " I mean the stockjobber," said Rowlands. 
 
 "He has Colonel Sebright hasn't lost any money?" 
 asked Godfrey. 
 
 " No," said Rowlands, and laughed awkwardly. <( It 
 isn't very nice for me to say or you to hear. The man 
 Strahan is engaged to Miss Sebright." 
 
 "Miss Sebright!" said Godfrey. "What! Miss 
 Sebright ! " 
 
 "Good heavens, man!" said Rowlands pettishly, "I 
 mean Laura, not Julia." 
 
 " My God ! " was what Godfrey said, and stood quite 
 silent. 
 
 " Won't you have a whisky? " asked Rowlands after a 
 moment, thinking the pause unnatural. 
 
 " Thanks, just a liqueur," said Godfrey, starting. "I 
 have to go to work in half an hour. I have found that 
 kirsch is the best liqueur for clearing your brain. Mine's 
 pretty clear, however." 
 
 Rowlands watched him. " You're not you won't 
 
 Somehow his meaning forced itself on Godfrey, who 
 burst into harsh laughter. 
 
 " I told you I was not a damned fool," he said. " One's 
 not made of that kind of stuff. Good-bye." 
 
 He was gone. Rowlands reflected that he would not 
 have credited Merivale with so much self-control. He 
 did not expect it in emotional natures.
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 ODFREY, having turned this corner sharply, dis- 
 V_JT appears now under his load of cynicism and 
 experience, into the populous streets of Life. He was 
 favourably placed to command a wide horizon, and now 
 for the first time began to inspect the world for his 
 personal profit. It had been interesting before, instruc- 
 tive too, and very tolerable ; now it became no less 
 interesting, but by no means instructive, and much more 
 tolerable in a way. These mounting spirits, clipped and 
 fallen to earth, must pursue their way with what taste 
 and gust they may. The reaction from broken ideals 
 brought Godfrey very swiftly into new modes and 
 standards. Fleet Street, indeed, by a little stretch ot 
 language, may be termed the clearing-house of London 
 life. All sorts and shapes of emotions, experiences and 
 desires meet there and are passed in review and checked. 
 A pressman may not write very good English ; he may 
 not speak with the refinement customary in a University, 
 and he may have a very indifferent knowledge of books 
 and theories, but he becomes an expert in people and the 
 facts of life. Into this receipt of custom pour the confi- 
 dences of human nature, and if any man desires to be 
 educated liberally in life there is his school. It furnishes 
 the best training in the world for the development of a 
 cynic with toleration. The arena was familiar enough to 
 Godfrey Merivale, but it began to reveal itself in un- 
 expected ways. He was, in a word, no longer a pilgrim 
 astray there, but an organic part of it, an inhabitant, 
 
 1 66
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE 167 
 
 a denizen of the wilderness, with all the pleasures and 
 pains incidental to that status. 
 
 Rowlands acquainted him in time of the date of Laura's 
 marriage. The "stockjobber" had spread his nets with 
 success, and could now " write his cheque " for a quarter 
 of a million. Godfrey was not seen at the Kensington 
 house, but with tender irony that left all to the imagina- 
 tion, forwarded to the bride a pair of beautiful and 
 ancient spoons. Then he wiped his slate clean, dreamed 
 a few horrid dreams, and devoted himself to work and 
 amusement. Rowlands desired to give him an account 
 of the wedding, at which he had been present, but after 
 a glance at the realities which lay behind that amiable 
 ceremony, the restive spirit shied and angrily turned its 
 wrath upon the barrister. There was no rational excuse 
 for abusing Rowlands, and, being still master of his 
 actions, he did not say anything. But he hissed in his 
 soul and to himself, "Oh, wooden heart, wooden heart! 
 Stucco, stone, or wood ! Your nerves creep along your 
 body like worms. Be damned for a block ! " But Row- 
 lands only thought him abrupt, and after he was gone, 
 discharging one more thought at the ceremony which had 
 turned Laura into Mrs. Daniel Strahan, sighed, frowned, 
 and picked up his book. 
 
 Books, of course, are a certain refuge in times of 
 emotional stress, and Godfrey, if not reading, was 
 writing one. He locked himself in with his heart 
 periodically, and overflowed with love, jealousy, and 
 bitterness. And thus he helped to outwear that passion, 
 which by being fed and indulged, is more often tamed 
 and broken. But the best curative of all was the activity 
 in which his mind must daily work. He soon ceased to 
 glory in the height from which he had fallen, which seemed, 
 of course, the measure of his past greatness ; he was 
 conscious only of a lower plane of life and of not 
 objecting to it ; he even by degrees came to be tolerantly
 
 168 GODFREY MERIVALE 
 
 amused by others who possessed the ambitions and the 
 faiths which had gone from him. Said one of his 
 compeers, an adventurous pushing fellow out of Oxford, 
 who husbanded to great issues a little talent 
 
 "You're clever enough, Merivale. Why don't you 
 publish ? " 
 
 " I have a book of verses, and I have a novel, and 
 I believe I have a treatise on Life with big letters in my 
 drawers," said Godfrey, "but I'm not going to challenge 
 comparison with people like yourself. You would beat 
 me every time ; you would engineer my head off. No, 
 my dear Carter, I will hold my hand until fifty, and then 
 you people, remembering an old colleague, and seeing an 
 old beggar, will open your hearts, the familiar and tender 
 hearts of Fleet Street, and acclaim me where I hobble, as 
 a spirit of fire." 
 
 Carter laughed, being only in earnest where his interests 
 were concerned, and having an appreciation of the 
 cynical. 
 
 "That's what you call reaching a hand through time 
 to catch, eh, Merivale? " 
 
 "You will say it's the old chap's due. He's never 
 issued anything before. His nights have been spent over 
 copy, and his fading eyes are bleared with the pains of 
 honourable service. Moreover, he won't interfere with 
 us. Yes, I'll wait till then ; but not now . . . not now. 
 Don't I know who does the verse in our foremost critical 
 weekly? " 
 
 "Yes, hang it, I wish they wouldn't send me the verse," 
 said Carter complacently. " I hate verse." 
 
 Therefore life in Fleet Street the superior leisurely life 
 held Godfrey in bondage. He made sufficient for his 
 wants and something over ; he belonged to a reputable 
 club, and he had a wide acquaintance among clever 
 fellows round about his own age. On the whole this 
 was surely a comfortable life, and though it aspired not
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE 169 
 
 to heaven, neither did it sink into gutters. " The average 
 sensual " life, as Godfrey would say to himself, can be 
 adjusted so as to fit all manner of men like a garment. It 
 fitted Godfrey just now, but for how long it would suffice 
 he never wondered, and if he had wondered would never 
 have guessed. The strong blood of those practical 
 ancestors had its way during this time, the spirit of the 
 Meri vales dominated him, and he went about his affairs 
 and the world, save for a certain refinement of temper 
 and mind, much as Sir Hubert, the ninth baronet, himself 
 might have walked London. 
 
 Yet was his outlook upon things not so dry or even 
 as he liked to think. His temperament was finely nervous, 
 and fine nerves, if worn or chafed, make for irritation 
 and the resurgence of buried emotions. There broke out 
 the Godfrey Merivale at times as God saw him, and 
 not that tempered and contented creature that walked 
 equably through the years. One lesson of life, perhaps 
 the prime lesson, is the suppression of those properties 
 in our nature which are found to conflict with comfort. 
 It is, of course, the old story of harmony with environ- 
 ment. He who starts his career out of keeping with the 
 natural round of life must cut and lop until he shapes 
 himself or is shaped by an overmastering fate. Yet out 
 of craters long thought extinct there may burst some- 
 times the .fires of earlier days and earlier hopes and earlier 
 characters. 
 
 It was an eruption of the real Godfrey that took place 
 at the Mayfair Art Exhibition, and an eruption crude 
 enough and violent. The episode is here set down for 
 the sake of a person it introduces, indeed, for the sake 
 of two women. The Mayfair Art Exhibition, as is 
 common knowledge, is an annual " function of society," 
 due to the creditable ambition of high-born or highly 
 moving ladies to discover their talents to the ordinary 
 world. It is held each spring, and usually in the house
 
 170 GODFREY MERIVALE 
 
 of some fine or wealthy lady (the adjectives may be 
 considered exchangeable) who desires to advertise her 
 interest in Art. Mr. Delamere, being" an editor who 
 dined out constantly and met Society on its own ground, 
 so to speak, had been asked to secure a good notice of 
 the Exhibition in the Argus. The art critic, who was an 
 obstinate fellow, flatly refused to attend the Press view, 
 and threatened, on being pressed politely, to write what 
 he thought of the pictures if he had to go. In the trouble- 
 some circumstances Rowbotham thought of Godfrey, 
 vaguely remembering that he had "done some shows" 
 once before. To Godfrey, therefore, the delicate mission 
 was entrusted. 
 
 He found the room, the spacious salon of some noble 
 lady, tenanted by wandering pressmen and a parcel of 
 women in fashionable dresses. These latter congregated 
 together at times, and from that bunch of beauty and 
 youth a flower drifted at intervals towards some critic. 
 Godfrey was stolidly following the numbers when a voice 
 at his elbow made him turn. 
 
 "Oh, please, who are you? " asked the voice, and his 
 eyes saluted a handsome woman of some five-and-twenty, 
 whose own gaze, indifferently polite, was fixed on him. 
 
 " I am criticising the pictures, madam, for the Argus," 
 he answered, with a slight bow. 
 
 The lady turned and beckoned to the group of her 
 friends, while her pleasant voice rang loud in the room. 
 
 "He's the Argus" she said. "Do come here, Lady 
 Bramley." 
 
 A woman somewhat older than herself darted across 
 the room, vivacious and beaming, with a wonderful sound 
 of silk. 
 
 "Argus!" she cried. "Oh, Cynthia, I'm glad you've 
 found him. Mr. Delamere promised me a good notice. 
 How d'ye do, Mr. Argus?" she said, nodding at Godfrey 
 in a friendly fashion. She was joined by a third, a
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE 171 
 
 younger woman, who addressed Godfrey's first acquaint- 
 ance. 
 
 " Have you shown him the Duchess's pictures, Lady 
 Marvel ? You must. Oh, Mr. Argus, you must see the 
 Duchess's pictures at once. They're sweetly pretty." 
 
 " Don't swallow him, Mabel ! " said she that was Lady 
 Bramley. "We can take him one by one. Now, Mr. 
 Argus this way, please " 
 
 "Mr. Argus is coming with me first," interrupted a 
 tourth woman, who, radiant in saffron, had come up. 
 "He shall see Georgy's miniatures or die." 
 
 Godfrey looked on, with a trivial smile on his face, 
 reflecting that they were like a number of handsome 
 barmaids squabbling together. He turned to the picture 
 before which he stood and made some notes on his 
 catalogue. 
 
 "Oh, don't look at that!" cried Lady Marvel im- 
 periously. " You positively shan't ! Come over with me. 
 I want you for five minutes, Mr. Argus. This way, 
 please. You must praise the Countess of Fenton's." 
 
 Her small hand pulled at his sleeve, and instantly he 
 was seized by another hand upon the other side. The 
 excitement, born in part of contending jealousies, and 
 in part artificial, burned and freshened about him. 
 Cynthia, Lady Marvel, was swept close to him by the 
 movement of her friends, and a delicate fragrance, 
 spreading on the air, whence he knew not, thrilled in 
 his nostrils. That faint perfume of the woman, reaching 
 his senses, startled him. She smiled, with a slight change 
 of colour, over her shoulder. 
 
 "Mabel, I'm ashamed of you. You're not at a draw- 
 ing-room. Dolly, don't tread on my dress, you cow ! " 
 
 Godfrey was agitated by a tremor ; a mist rose before 
 his eyes, in which this Cynthia swam, blurred and beauti- 
 ful, and sweet-smelling. But of a sudden (he could not 
 have said why) his nerves began to speak to other
 
 172 GODFREY MERIVALE 
 
 influences ; the strings hummed and thrummed irritably, 
 and he saw only out of those handsome eyes impudence, 
 arrogance, and contempt look forth. Lady Bramley's 
 glance dwelt on him hardly, and a little inquisitively, and 
 the girl called Mabel fluttered about in enjoyment, with 
 no more heed of him than of a footman. Here was where 
 the Godfrey, long latent and hitherto a smiling mask of 
 indifference, broke forth into natural man. " Mr. Argus 
 . . . Mr. Argus" he was summoned on all sides, as by 
 women that chaffered over a jest. He wheeled on them 
 savagely hot-white and splenetic. 
 
 "My dear Miss Green -hat," said he formally to 
 Cynthia, Lady Marvel. "My dear Miss Green-hat, I 
 am glad to see that you belong to a class of society 
 which very properly dispenses with manners, as it enables 
 me to tell you frankly that the colour of your friend the 
 Countess is dirty, the composition infantile, and the 
 whole, in a vulgar phrase, for which of course I need 
 not apologise to you ' muck.' If you and Lady Feather- 
 Boa yonder want any further instructive criticism from 
 me as to the Duchess or anyone else, I shall be happy 
 to give it to you now or later." 
 
 He turned, as he finished, to the wall again, and his 
 amazed audience fell away. 
 
 " Common cad ! " said one of the ladies. 
 
 "Yes, he is that and very rude but rather hand- 
 some," said Lady Marvel pensively. 
 
 " Rude ! " said Dolly, Lady Bramley, " what does that 
 matter? Anyone of that class being rude to one doesn't 
 matter. It's one's friends." 
 
 "My friends are never rude to me, dear," retorted 
 Lady Marvel. 
 
 "He is rather handsome," said the girl Mabel, who 
 was watching the young man with curiosity from where 
 they stood. 
 
 To none of the three was the incident of the slightest
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE 173 
 
 consequence. Godfrey, however, was bubbling with fury, 
 that fury for which he had so long- cultivated reticence, 
 but which had welled up in a moment and confounded 
 him. The reduction of Nature is not only difficult ; it is 
 impossible. 
 
 The Mabel of this extravagant episode was Miss Mabel 
 Heywood, the second daughter and third child of the 
 Liberal member for a famous manufacturing town. And 
 it marked another turning in Godfrey Merivale's life when 
 late one evening Mr. Geoffrey Heywood, M.P., a cigar 
 between his gloved fingers, walked into the office of the 
 Argus, and asked for Mr. Delamere. 
 
 The editor received his visitor with friendliness and 
 satisfaction, and after some talk about common friends 
 and common politics, the member came to business. 
 Mr. Heywood's voice was soft and pleasant, and more 
 ceremonious even than the editor's, and when Godfrey 
 came before them, he fastened instantly upon the analogy 
 of Tweedledum and Tweedledee. Mr. Heywood was the 
 more seductive, and Mr. Delamere the more off-hand, but 
 both worked amiably to their end. 
 
 " Mr. Heywood has come to consult me, Mr. Merivale," 
 said the editor complacently, " upon the matter of a private 
 secretary. Mr. Rowbotham suggested that perhaps you 
 would be willing to speak to Mr. Heywood on the matter, 
 and as he is here " he waved his hand almost affec- 
 tionately to Mr. Heywood. 
 
 " Merivale ! " said the M.P., leaning forward and alert, 
 but still showing his pleasant smile. "Any relative of 
 the Under-Secretary for " 
 
 " A distant cousin," said Godfrey. 
 
 "Ah, yes," said Heywood, smiling more broadly. "A 
 very nice fellow. But perhaps Mr. Merivale will allow 
 me " He looked at Delamere, and Delamere rose. 
 
 "There is a room within here," he said, "which pray 
 use, my dear sir, as you will."
 
 174 GODFREY MERIVALE 
 
 When face to face in the room, Heywood's manner 
 remained as effusive as before, but his voice assumed a 
 more business-like tone. 
 
 "The question was, Mr. Merivale," he said suavely, 
 ' ' whether you would care to undertake the duties of 
 private secretary. I may say that I pay well four 
 hundred a year, which is unusually high." 
 
 " I have no objection to the money part," said Godfrey. 
 
 "Then you are considering something else," said 
 Heywood, his keen eyes, half veiled by their lids, search- 
 ing him. " I need not perhaps point out to one of your 
 experience, Mr. Merivale, that a position as secretary to 
 a member of Parliament offers advantages to any young 
 man ambitious of public life. It is wont to be, if I may 
 say it, a stepping-stone, although we will hope," he con- 
 tinued courteously, "that if we do arrange matters, you 
 will not use the stepping-stone too soon, for my sake. I 
 may also add, perhaps without indiscretion, that in the 
 event of the Government going out, I am likely to be 
 called upon by the Liberal Prime Minister to to assist 
 him." 
 
 "Will you give me until to-morrow, Mr. Heywood?" 
 asked Godfrey. "This, as you can see, has been sprung 
 upon me, and I should like to look round it with a candle, 
 so to speak." 
 
 "Till to-morrow, certainly, my dear sir. I am not 
 going to rush you. You can take longer, if you think it 
 desirable." 
 
 "Thank you; to-morrow will do," said Godfrey, and so 
 left it. 
 
 Here was a path which would take him far from the 
 regions he had known ever since he had arrived in 
 London. Journalism was not dear to him, but it was 
 familiar, as familiar and as intimate with his soul as the 
 palace of the Law Courts, the pigeons of the gardens, 
 or the trees in the Temple. The toss of a coin would
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE 175 
 
 serve to guide his judgment quite as well as any con- 
 sideration. He would settle down into a new province 
 of the world if he went to Grosvenor Street (Mr. Hey- 
 wood's address) ; and it might be as interesting and as 
 comfortable as the borders of Bohemia on which he 
 dwelled at present. In any case at eight-and-twenty, 
 youth is too strong and confident not to front change 
 with a light heart. His feet had grown tired on the 
 pavements of Fleet Street. He would keep his rooms 
 in the Temple, and still be part of the heart of the city 
 which beats all day and night. He went next afternoon 
 to Grosvenor Street with his mind made up. 
 
 "Well, Mr. Merivale, I'm very glad I'm going to have 
 your assistance. I may say, now that we have settled it, 
 that Mr. Delamere strongly recommended you." This 
 was Heywood, still suave, but keen and twinkling over 
 his bargain the crafty huckster revealing himself 
 pleasantly enough. "And now, of course, we shall 
 expect you to be loyal," he added briskly. "You've got 
 to be a good Liberal, eh? Liberalism's necessary as a 
 counterpoise to the other party." 
 
 Godfrey assured him that he had no faith in the other 
 party, which was quite true, but did not add that he had 
 no faith in either party ; and his employer seemed satisfied 
 not only with these assurances, but also with his secretary. 
 
 " A useful man," he explained in the House to a friend. 
 " Has been through the journalistic mill, which is all to 
 the good. And I give him rather less than the last."
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 MISS HEYWOOD, at four-and-twenty, might safely 
 have claimed herself as an expert in life. Shrewd, 
 kindly, and ingenuous, she entertained her friends as much 
 as she confounded her enemies. The frankness of her 
 talk, even of her life in some degree, drew upon her these 
 latter, who, under the apparel of well-wishers, concealed 
 angry hearts. She was wonderfully handsome, and had 
 been expected to make a fine match, according to the 
 phrase of the market, these several seasons. Somewhat 
 tall, she carried herself with a movement, and was finely 
 bold of figure ; her eyes raked you, sharp, brown, and 
 shining, as it seemed to her admirers, under liquid veils. 
 She liked ease and admiration, and she had a very 
 respectable wit ; her laugh was loud and hearty, and she 
 had no meannesses. You will perceive, then, that here 
 was a handsome young woman with few vices, who should 
 have found a mate ready for her at any moment that 
 she wished, particularly as she was the eldest daughter 
 of " Heywood the millionaire." So far, however, Ellice 
 Heywood had chosen no mate, although several candidates 
 were allowed to trail after her. She liked their attentions, 
 and did not scruple to say so in the circle of her family 
 and female friends. 
 
 " Sir Archibald Tower is a very good fellow," she would 
 declare, in laughing earnest to her sister Mabel, "and I 
 won't have him abused. He's worth half a dozen of your 
 Lord Glassburys." 
 
 This was a daughter strangely born to such a father as 
 .. 176
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE 177 
 
 that neat and secret member of Parliament ; but the son, 
 Osborne, and the two younger girls were no doubt de- 
 signed by nature as the complement of this frank beauty. 
 Mabel, fair, slight, and of a middle stature, was un- 
 imaginably seraphic ; her eyes were blue and angelic, and 
 her manner was artificially restrained and cultivated. Yet 
 she, too, had much of her sister's boldness, which, indeed, 
 should appear under the finer name of confidence. And 
 behind Mabel grew Ethel, seventeen, promising and watch- 
 ful. But that faculty of observation was characteristic 
 of the family from the father downwards. Mr. Heywood 
 moved as yet upon a plane something lower than the 
 highest at which he aimed. The section of society which 
 advertises itself, or is amiably advertised by indulgent 
 editors, had opened to allow the Heywoods in, but the 
 tenure of their place was as yet uncertain. Godfrey 
 Merivale had often seen their names in the fashionable 
 news of various papers, and it was with not a little 
 curiosity that he first met the family. Miss Heywood 
 amused him, Mabel was distant and "ravishing," as he 
 explained to a friend, and the "little girl" was impudent. 
 
 "I believe," said he to Carter, "that they have each 
 of them their father's powers of business. I believe they 
 could each make a million if they chose." 
 
 " They won't need to ; they will marry it," said Carter. 
 
 "No," said Godfrey reflectively; "they have got to 
 buy something with tJieir money, and I shall find out 
 what in time, I have no doubt." 
 
 He did, indeed, find out some of the things they were 
 buying, and the more readily that Ellice Heywood's tongue 
 wagged pleasantly. She showed a liking for the secretary, 
 and made excuses to talk with him in his room. It was 
 a book she wanted sometimes, or she had a query for 
 him. Later she frankly sought him out to exchange 
 views or to publish news. 
 
 " Father's a Radical, of course," she said. "You can 
 
 N
 
 178 GODFREY MERIVALE 
 
 get more out of a Radical Government," and she smiled 
 broadly at Godfrey, as at one who also was aware of 
 this. There need, naturally, be no secrets between them 
 on this point. She had not the polite instinct of reserve 
 which her sister cultivated. Mabel did not approve of 
 the secretary, for she remembered what he had forgotten. 
 " His abominable caddishness," as she phrased it, at the 
 Mayfair Art Exhibition, had impressed upon her the 
 physical semblance of the culprit. Consequently she had 
 recognised Godfrey, and protested to her brother and 
 Ellice. 
 
 " He was awfully rude to Lady Marvel and Lady 
 Bramley," she declared. " He behaved like a cad. I 
 can't think how papa has picked him up ! " 
 
 " He was on the Argus" said Osborne, yawning. 
 
 " A newspaper man ! " said Mabel, with contempt. 
 
 "Oh, come, there are gentlemen on the press," said 
 Osborne, remonstrating, hastening to add, " I don't say 
 anything about Merivale. He isn't bad . . . too many 
 airs." 
 
 " Rubbish ! " broke in Ellice. " He's a gentleman any- 
 way, and he's good-looking." 
 
 " Yes, he is good-looking," admitted Mabel. " Lady 
 Marvel thought he was good-looking. But not good 
 form." 
 
 "And where should we be if it weren't for the news- 
 papers?" pursued Miss Hey wood. "They do us very 
 well, on the whole. Perhaps Mr. Merivale could oblige 
 with a full description of your charms, Mabel, in the 
 Argus.'' 1 
 
 "My dear, I'm tired of them," declared the younger 
 woman, lifting her arms. " I am sick of my name. 
 Mr. Vandeleur will leave neither alone ; and to be adver- 
 tised would bring more Vandeleurs like bees to the 
 honey." 
 
 "Men," said Ellice Heywood sententiously, "are more
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE 179 
 
 influenced by notoriety in their affections than are women. 
 If a woman is tried for murdering her husband, she will 
 receive a dozen offers ere she is proved guilty, and a score 
 afterwards." 
 
 The practice of "smart society," since that amazing- 
 stratum was invented by Charles II., has been to cultivate 
 the minor arts of wit and repartee. The Heywood girls 
 played at retort as if it had been a game, and back and 
 forward flew the shuttlecock between them in the privacy 
 of their boudoir. Practising at the nets, if the phrase 
 may pass, had sharpened the quick wits of Ellice, and 
 emboldened the tactics of her sister ; they could face odds 
 by now, and face them without wincing. The features 
 of the elder sister were more honest ; they professed 
 openly much that was inadvisable. But Mabel's ex- 
 pression was bright, beautiful, and uncommunicative ; 
 it neither gabbled nor sulked, and was wonderfully under 
 the control of a clever mind. One difference written 
 large between the sisters was that while Ellice, practical 
 though she was, drifted at ease, Mabel kept a definite 
 course and a definite aim before herself; at least, if the 
 course were not too clear, but of necessity vague and 
 open, the aim was beyond doubt. She held Lord Glass- 
 bury in chains, but was not yet certain of her wishes. 
 There was, for instance, Mr. Edward Ormerod, who was 
 heir to Viscount Coombe, and would own two of the 
 finest seats in the kingdom. Young Ormerod, it is true, 
 was in attendance on Ellice when the chance offered ; but 
 Ellice was careless, seemed to have little disposition to 
 marriage, and leaned, if towards any, towards Sir 
 Archibald Tower. This Sir Archibald Godfrey had met 
 at dinner at his patron's. It was a dinner-party of 
 importance to which he would not have been admitted 
 had it not been for Mrs. Heywood's superstitions. A 
 guest failed her, and in the afternoon she came, plaintive 
 and gracious, begging him to spare them the fate of
 
 i8o GODFREY MERIVALE 
 
 "sitting down thirteen." Sir Archibald, tall and blond 
 and heavy, threw at him the familiar question of which 
 he had long wearied. 
 
 " Any relation to Sir Hubert? " 
 
 " I'm by way of being a sort of cousin," he answered, 
 indulging his impatience in the fatuity of his reply. By 
 his side sat a girl whose face came back out of some past 
 memory to him. He had heard her name. 
 
 " I cannot think yet where I have seen you, Miss 
 Darling," said he. 
 
 She smiled at him prettily. "Can you not?" she said 
 vaguely. 
 
 She was inimitably fair, her hair of brown gold, and her 
 eyes of serious grey. This quiet glance stayed on him 
 gently as he spoke, and swiftly he made the recognition. 
 
 "I have it," he said triumphantly. "You were at 
 Pontrack Castle two years ago, at Sir Hubert Merivale's 
 election." 
 
 " Yes," she assented, with interest. " Were you? " 
 
 " I was there reporting it for the Argus " replied 
 Godfrey. 
 
 "Oh!" said Miss Darling, and regarded him with 
 curiosity. "Do you write for papers?" 
 
 " Not now," he answered ; "or very little. I write for 
 Mr. Heywood," he explained, with a smile. 
 
 Miss Darling considered. " It must be very interesting 
 writing for newspapers," she said. " One has to be very 
 clever." 
 
 He demurred. 
 
 " It always astonishes me the things I read there," she 
 declared. 
 
 Godfrey suggested that it often astonished many people, 
 but she did not notice his small cynicism. She was grave 
 and friendly, and as her gentle gaze fell upon him he 
 remembered his impression of it as of a blown leaf in the 
 wind.
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE 181 
 
 "It is odd that you remembered my face for so long," 
 she said meditatively. 
 
 "It is not odd," protested Godfrey warmly. "It is 
 only odd that I was three minutes before placing you." 
 
 She smiled a little uncertainly, breaking into soft colour, 
 and turned her face to her other neighbour. She did not 
 know Godfrey's name, and she was well acquainted with 
 the Honourable Edward Dormer. Across the table were 
 two of the Heywoods' captures, the one Lord Glassbury, 
 and the other Lady Marvel. Godfrey recollected her face 
 out of the bleak March days, and tried to recall her name. 
 If he had forgotten Mabel Heywood's presence on that 
 absurd afternoon, Cynthia Marvel's person had not yet 
 faded from his mind. There she sat, as alert as she 
 had been that day, as vivacious, and more lovely. Her 
 glance floated over him more than once, but she showed 
 no sign of recognising him. How should she, to whom 
 each day rolled round with its own diversions and its 
 own ephemeral acquaintances? She sat between Lord 
 Glassbury and Mr. Ormerod, and enticed with her beauty 
 at once Ellice's and Mabel's suitor. In the drawing-room, 
 which Godfrey perfunctorily visited, he was astonished 
 to be addressed by Lady Marvel, who had learned his 
 identity from Mabel. Mabel was angry, and covered her 
 wrath with pretty smiles. 
 
 "Do you remember the man who called you Green-hat 
 at the Mayfair Exhibition ? " she said, firing her small 
 barrel. " He's here. He's papa's secretary. Would you 
 like to know him? " 
 
 "He has no right to be here," said Cynthia Marvel; 
 "he ought to have died on the spot. I remember 
 him. Where is he?" and this was how Godfrey was 
 so sweetly introduced to the lady at whom he had been 
 staring. 
 
 Lady Marvel eyed him, and rippled into laughter, in 
 which he joined.
 
 i8 2 GODFREY MERIVALE 
 
 " Of course you're a terrible Radical," she said. " Mr. 
 Merivale, why were you so rude to me ? " 
 
 "Was I?" asked Godfrey indulgently. "I had for- 
 gotten I only remember you. But if I was rude, I have 
 worked out my punishment since then. To have been 
 rude to you and never to have seen you since ! " 
 
 He had an instinct how deeply and how suddenly he 
 might plunge, and was she not, moreover, a leader in 
 "smart society." Lady Marvel did not mind; she was 
 gowned exquisitely, and to be talking to her, to be in 
 her neighbourhood, was a pleasure. Godfrey recognised 
 this, and, while enjoying it, did not seek to analyse. 
 He was not a philosopher at the moment, but a sensitive 
 film for impressions. "Enjoy while you may," he was 
 wont now to say, "and adjust yourself afterwards." 
 It is always possible for the philosopher to drop his role, 
 and to correct the ideal by the actual. Cynthia Marvel's 
 society had never failed to give pleasure to the other 
 sex, although it had often failed to satisfy ; and Godfrey 
 enjoyed what he might of it that evening. 
 
 He had the curiosity the next day to compare in his 
 thoughts this wonderful lady with Miss Heywood. The 
 comparison was in a way bewildering, for it was quite 
 impossible to judge between personalities so distinctive. 
 Yet he credited Ellice with a truer nature, and then 
 doubted his judgment. He was in the library when these 
 reflections entered his head, and he knew no reason why 
 they should, save that Lady Marvel had astonished him 
 with her friendliness. Being not unduly introspective, he 
 did not remark that his thoughts had risen from the book 
 he held in his hand to the subject in question. The book 
 was a treatise on Greek sculpture, and was illustrated 
 with fragments of statues torsos of heroes, disjected 
 limbs of goddesses, and draperies in graceful folds. His 
 mental eye soared from the page to the green raiment 
 of Cynthia Marvel, and fluttered away next to the bronze
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE 183 
 
 of Ellice Heywood. Without the door he heard voices, 
 unconsidered and sharp on the air in the stillness of the 
 house after lunch. 
 
 "She has done it, without doubt." Whose voice was 
 that? Mabel's! "Lady Bramley told me that she got 
 the invitations at once. It's an instance, if you want one, 
 Ellice." 
 
 " She's none too good-looking, and she's vulgar," came 
 in Miss Hey wood's voice. " But everyone has his tastes, 
 and I mine. I didn't think Royalty's would be so 
 bad." 
 
 "Oh, it's not looks," said Mabel eagerly. " My dear 
 girl, you're always harping on looks. Desiree Conover 
 is only passable, but she has esprit. If you'd been with 
 her you'd realise that. I know it's esprit, Ellice. If you 
 want to get what you want, you want esprit, my dear. I 
 could, as Osborne says, do it on my head." 
 
 " I hope you won't, Mabel," says Ellice drily. 
 
 "At any rate, I'll dress her out of court," says Mabel 
 triumphantly. 
 
 There was a pause. "You can do that," said her 
 sister, and they parted. Ellice entered the library, and 
 started. 
 
 " Good gracious ! You, Mr. Merivale ! " she said, and 
 colouring slightly, laughed. " I hope you have had your 
 hands over your ears. Were you shocked ? " 
 
 " I was charmed," said Godfrey. " I get very few 
 opportunities, you see, of an insight into feminine nature. 
 The nature of woman, Miss Heywood, is a book in a 
 strange tongue, of which we can turn as many pages as 
 we will and be no wiser." 
 
 "Yes, we let you turn the pages so long as you don't 
 understand," said Ellice Heywood appreciatively. "A 
 woman will let a man turn the pages all his life. She 
 likes it." 
 
 " And she likes to be insoluble? " inquired Godfrey.
 
 184 GODFREY MERIVALE 
 
 Miss Hey wood hesitated. " I don't know. Yes. 
 Mabel would ! Some would most would. I don't 
 know about others." 
 
 " It is just possible that some might like to be known," 
 suggested Godfrey, with a faint accent of cynicism. 
 
 "It is, as you say, just possible," she replied, meeting 
 his slight smile with its answer. "We were very frank 
 outside the door just now," she went on, "because we 
 thought no one was near. We would be frank if it were 
 possible always." 
 
 " I think you would," said Godfrey, considering her. 
 
 "Mr. Merivale," said the girl abruptly, "will you tell 
 me what you conceive the aim and end of life ? " 
 
 "My dear Miss Heywood," said Godfrey, making a 
 rueful face, "do you think that after lunch this is quite a 
 fair question ? " 
 
 She came and sat down opposite to him. "You have 
 your views, I know," she continued. " I don't shut my 
 eyes, and I watch you. You must have a theory." 
 
 " I sometimes go to church," said he politely. 
 
 "Nonsense!" said Ellice ; "I'm not talking of that. 
 There is something more. But I suppose you won't 
 speak. I wish you would." 
 
 Godfrey was unable to resist the serious mood of a 
 handsome woman. He laid down his book. 
 
 " I suppose, then," he said slowly, " one must say that 
 it is to get along as pleasantly as possible, with as little 
 harm to one's neighbours as possible." 
 
 Miss Heywood said "Oh!" and added presently, 
 "That's not lofty, but perhaps you're right. I haven't 
 any ideas of my own. I've given them up. Yet there 
 is something something ... I feel there is something 
 . . . unrealised ..." 
 
 " You are very young," said Godfrey ; " there is a good 
 deal not realised yet." 
 
 "Ah!" Ellice looked at him, and then out of the
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE 185 
 
 window, whence the noise of the street was audible. 
 "You speak as if you were a hundred," she said. 
 
 " I speak only of facts," he answered lightly. 
 
 Ellice Heywood rose, and measured him covertly with 
 a glance as she turned to go. Then she noticed that her 
 shoe-lace was untied. 
 
 " Mr. Merivale, would you be so good " she began, 
 
 much like her mother. He realised, and, " With pleasure," 
 he said, as he stooped to the ground. She set her foot 
 upon a chair. 
 
 " It's a shame," she said. 
 
 " It's a pleasure," he returned. 
 
 His fingers passed across the foot and touched the 
 instep in its black-silk covering ; he was oddly moved, 
 and stood up. 
 
 "So many thanks," said Miss Heywood, with a little 
 laugh. 
 
 He remembered after his own confusion had lifted that 
 her cheeks had turned warmer in colour. 
 
 It was the juxtaposition of the previous evening repeated, 
 but with a different partner. Once more he had to adjust 
 himself afterwards, and the adjustment was not difficult. 
 " I should say a strong, fine animal," he reflected, as he 
 went down a familiar street that night; "but those 
 creatures are dangerous to themselves if to no one else." 
 No ; on second thoughts he considered they were less 
 dangerous than others Mabel, for example, whom he 
 admired and avoided. They rarely met, and Mabel 
 despised him, ignored him when she could, and frankly 
 had no room for him. He stood momentarily on the door- 
 step of the house he sought, and looked into the lighted 
 darkness. An odorous stateness filled the nocturnal air, 
 for the July was in its decline. There had been for him 
 romance in the breath of London town for years, but this 
 last spring had passed flatly, with the harsh and regnant 
 gloom of the east wind, with neither zephyrs nor blowing
 
 i86 GODFREY MERIVALE 
 
 scents of flowers. And now the arid reaches of the dog 
 days were here. A lace trailing from a dainty shoe was 
 in his mental vision. He shook his head at the darkness, 
 and resolutely mounted the steps to the house. 
 
 It was odd that Carter should speak of the Heywoods 
 on Sunday night. He had noticed the two girls in the 
 park, he said, which he was crossing that morning to a 
 luncheon-party. " Distinctly handsome both," he said 
 critically. "What are they after?" 
 
 "If you were to read your own paper, Carter, you 
 would be able to give me news," said Godfrey. 
 
 "Oh yes, someone said Lord Glassbury. Which one's 
 that? " asked Carter indifferently. 
 
 " I am not in the confidence of either Miss Hey wood," 
 replied Godfrey. 
 
 "The fair one has the better style," said Carter 
 reflectively over his cigar. " More breeding." 
 
 "You may have the fair one," said Godfrey good- 
 naturedly, " if, that is, Lord Glassbury will let you." 
 
 "The other has a carriage. I passed quite close to 
 her," continued Carter, " and as fine a complexion as I've 
 seen." 
 
 "You're an authority you're a judge; I take your 
 verdict," said Godfrey, laughing, and sat thinking of the 
 Misses Heywood when Carter had long forgotten them. 
 
 The dying season still held some glory ; it promised to 
 die in a radiance of beauty and charity. A bazaar had 
 been organised for a necessitous hospital, and "smart 
 society " trooped to its aid. Miss Heywood was to tell 
 fortunes, Miss Mabel to sell flowers, and Lady Bramley 
 was to mix American drinks (with assistance), and rob 
 the middle-classes of as much as was possible in three 
 summer afternoons. Mrs. Heywood, the gracious and 
 watchful daughter of Sir Philip Cave, Bart., lent her 
 daughters willingly in such a noble cause, and, trusting 
 blindly to the instincts of the family, kept no eye upon
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE 187 
 
 them this time. But the second day she wished to send 
 word to Mabel, and who was so convenient to her hand 
 as Godfrey ? The secretary of the member of Parliament 
 was dragged from his work by that gracious demeanour, 
 "I'm sure you won't mind, Mr. Merivale . . ." and " It 
 would be so good of you ..." 
 
 He was, then, something better than an upper servant, 
 he reflected, as he drove towards the Strand. He was to be 
 begged and smiled on. That was so much to the good. 
 
 Miss Mabel Heywood's flower-stall, at which, in the 
 company of a debutante, she assisted the staid and 
 Honourable Mrs. Mead, saluted the eye of the visitor. 
 It was close upon the door, so that each upon entering 
 might provide himself with a button-hole for the bazaar, 
 and upon leaving with another for the streets. Miss 
 Mabel and the debutante clamoured boldly at the elbows 
 of the incomers, and the latter assailed Godfrey with the 
 fervour and importunity of her sex in Piccadilly. She 
 chaffered well at nineteen, at which age it is easy to 
 chaffer. She had a merry eye, and enjoyed thoroughly a 
 game which was so free of the social conventions. She 
 bargained as a real market-woman, and not with Miss 
 Mabel's cold eyes. Those fell at last upon Godfrey, 
 and expressed mild wonder. But she was flushed with 
 success, and in happy spirits, for which reasons she ap- 
 proached him kindly, offering an absurd bouquet for a 
 sovereign. 
 
 "Oh, well, no," she added thoughtfully; "half a 
 sovereign." 
 
 This was meant in a friendly way, as from one who had 
 remembered his circumstances, and that he was not on 
 the level of the lords and wealthy commoners whom she 
 had beset and besought. A bag of gold jingled at her 
 waist, and in her green and white Watteau costume she 
 was as sweet as a picture. Godfrey pulled out some 
 money.
 
 i88 GODFREY MERIVALE 
 
 "Perhaps considering you might make it five shil- 
 lings ? " he suggested. 
 
 Miss Mabel stared at him a moment, her sharp wits in 
 wonder, and then abruptly 
 
 "No, I can't afford less. It's the lowest price," she 
 said. 
 
 He paid, and communicated his message. 
 
 "Oh," she said, and there was in the tone her intelli- 
 gence of the situation. "That's why you're here," it 
 spoke to him. He repeated the explanation aloud, "Yes, 
 that's why I'm here." 
 
 Mabel gave him a look this time of open amazement, 
 and the colour ran into her face. She turned away, and 
 Godfrey, retreating to a proper distance, looked on at the 
 pretty scenes. Little flitting dramas were enacted before 
 his eyes, or rather fragments of them, broken by the 
 passage of people and the hagglings of the market. 
 "So," says he to himself, "it offers a figure for itself; 
 society here depicts itself in a parable," which was, of 
 course, not too original in a brilliant young man. "This 
 is Vanity Fair," he might have said, and said no other 
 than the truth, though he had plagiarised from ten thou- 
 sand philosophers before him. " If they were allowed," 
 ran his thought, "it would be better if they haggled as 
 openly in life as here. The scheme would right itself ; 
 the very honesty would pay in the end. They cry their 
 wares boldly now there is no pretence. You can take 
 them or leave them. You can even taste 'em and try 
 'em before you buy 'em. And you know the price. 
 
 Whereas " His eye was caught by a passing figure, 
 
 a supple body clad in flowing robes. It was Cynthia 
 Marvel, "the fair Circassian," as he said. The fair 
 Circassian dominated the bazaar ; attended by admirers 
 and girt about by the wondering public she passed in a 
 procession of triumph, selling trifles by the way. She 
 was Autolycus to the bazaar, but to Godfrey she was the
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE 189 
 
 "Light of the Harem." He took the liberty to christen 
 her in that name, as she flashed her smiling eyes across 
 him without recognition. Arch confidence and measure- 
 less gratification spoke out of her face. She was too 
 deeply wrapped in her personal triumph to notice any 
 casual acquaintance of a dinner-party. Each day, as 
 has been said, rolled round with its own frivolities and 
 its own guests. Cynthia Marvel swept on with her rout 
 of gallants. Through the space thus cleared before him, 
 his glance shot towards the refreshment-bar, where Lady 
 Bramley, in Empire dress, was touching the glasses with 
 her lips for half a crown apiece. Godfrey, staring, was 
 moved by a gust of laughter. American drinks and an 
 Empire dress ! The incongruity tickled him pleasantly, 
 but he could see already the print of the society columns 
 next morning, familiarly respectful, intimate and admir- 
 ing, lavish and fluent, witness to the ubiquity and the 
 perennial beauty of the charitable ladies, under whose 
 auspices the necessitous poor passed peacefully to death. 
 Lady Bramley's florid hair on a small head was knotted 
 and coifed ; the warm winds fanned through thin strata 
 of gauzy silk a beautiful bosom, and in her scant skirt, 
 slashed open along the thigh, she stood revealed ... La 
 Merveilleuse ! The audacity of the breach had only just 
 dawned on him, when he was arrested by a voice, and, 
 turning, beheld Laura. 
 
 "How do you do, Mr. Merivale?" she said, suffusing 
 with a slight colour, and she put out her hand. It was 
 three years since they had met, and for an instant of 
 time Godfrey was dumb. The face had hardened and 
 strengthened, was more maturely handsome, and glowed 
 with satisfaction. From crown to feet she was of the 
 ripeness of ripe fruit. 
 
 "Mrs. Strahan, this is a pleasure beyond anything," 
 he stammered, for philosophy had fled. " You are looking 
 not a day older than when we met last."
 
 I 9 o GODFREY MERIVALE 
 
 It was false, oh, false ! but it opened the engagement, 
 it covered confusion ; and, after all, if she looked older 
 she had improved. 
 
 " It is . . . a long time, isn't it?" asked Laura, her 
 glances fluttering. She was tenderly discomposed. He 
 said "three years," and, now his own master, inquired 
 after Mr. Strahan. Mr. Strahan was quite well, and, she 
 believed, in Paris. They talked together, of Colonel 
 Sebright and of Miss Sebright, who were also well. 
 
 "They have gone to Gloucester Road. Have you not 
 been to see them ? " said Laura reproachfully. 
 
 He admitted that he had not, quite at his ease. It 
 was odd how little Laura's voice appeared to affect him, 
 yet his eyes ran over her approvingly. He regretted 
 that he had been deeply occupied. 
 
 "Oh yes, we heard," she declared smiling. "Aren't 
 you going in for Parliament? " 
 
 "Well, not that," he answered her. " But I'm getting 
 on famously. I'm maid to the Miss Heywoods just at 
 this moment." 
 
 Surely he was never more his own master. Mrs. 
 Strahan was puzzled ; frankly she did not understand, 
 and so he explained. 
 
 "Ah!" she said, breathing her relief. "Then that 
 means Parliament." 
 
 He said that there was no necessary connection, and 
 turned the inquisition on her. Was she doing famously? 
 
 " Oh, we are never heard of, as notable people like 
 you," she declared, and stared at the Watteau Mabel 
 whom Godfrey at her request had indicated. She looked 
 as delicate as china, this Shepherdess of Fragonard. 
 
 "Where is the other Miss Hey wood?" Mrs. Strahan 
 asked eagerly, and like a scent out of the past, long 
 lost and forgotten, that sparkle in her face stirred him. 
 Laura was eager still ! He looked about and could not 
 see Ellice.
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE 191 
 
 "We shall see her directly," he assured her; "they 
 can't keep themselves hidden on these occasions. It is 
 they who are on show and sale, not the wares." 
 
 "I'm afraid you're very sarcastic," said Laura, with a 
 laugh, for she did not recognise this note in her old 
 lover. 
 
 "And am I to inquire about the health of a family?" 
 asked Godfrey pleasantly. It was the final proof of his 
 self-dominion that he could say this and smile. Again 
 was her cheek flooded softly, and she stood looking at 
 the bustling crowd. 
 
 "There are two," she said, with a change of voice, 
 and he had the whim to fancy that her tone spoke of 
 an "only" pretermitted. It was almost an apology, 
 and he accepted it with complacency. He felt he could 
 mount to something higher, and even now he was on 
 lordly elevations. He opened his mouth, and Ellice 
 Heywood's voice interposed. 
 
 "Tell your fortune, Mr. Merivale?" she said laugh- 
 ingly. " Only half a sovereign to my friends." 
 
 This was much better than Mabel's way the Mabel 
 who had "more breeding" from a mother who was the 
 daughter of a baronet. Godfrey surveyed a Gypsy with 
 bold eyes and fine colour, her streaming dark hair, and 
 her heaving bosom. The shapely legs were clear below 
 the short and dancing skirts. He was aware of a sensible 
 movement on the part of Mrs. Strahan ; it was as of one 
 that presses forward in a crowd in ardour. Her gaze was 
 upon Ellice, and it was eager. Somehow Godfrey winced 
 from that eagerness ; intelligence broke on him instantly. 
 He saluted Laura elaborately and moved away with the 
 Gypsy. 
 
 " I have a tent here," said Ellice, " but I have to come 
 out and beat the drum. My assistant has deserted me 
 in favour of her lover, I think. Let me tell your fortune." 
 
 Her glance was roguish, and Godfrey was struck with
 
 i 9 2 GODFREY MERIVALE 
 
 new admiration. The Watteau girl and La Merveilleuse, 
 yes, and the "Light of the Harem" herself, suffered in 
 eclipse beside this frank, handsome, and picturesque 
 woman. He could see in his mind how man went astray 
 and lived in dirty camps for ever as Romany Rye for 
 bright creatures like this. He held out his hand jubilant, 
 and they were foolish and merry together over the farce. 
 His tongue wagged as if wine were in it, and his face 
 glowed and took fire. In the midst of it all Ellice 
 stopped. 
 
 " I must get Mr. Men vale," she said, and while 
 Godfrey was marvelling at the name, she had seized upon 
 an old gentleman who had unwarily come within striking 
 distance. He begged to be let off, produced a sovereign 
 and declared that he had no future, and knew his fortune 
 to a nicety, and when the struggle was over found him- 
 self smiling into Godfrey's face. The younger man had 
 recognised him. This was Jack's father whom he had 
 seen at Waterloo Station some years since. In his 
 pocket rested, by a freak of fate, a letter received on the 
 previous day from young Jack in India. He spoke on an 
 impulse. 
 
 "Mr. Merivale ! I had the pleasure of meeting you 
 on a sorrowful occasion, if you don't mind my Irishism," 
 and in answer to the questioning glance of this neat, 
 silver-haired man, "My name is Merivale also, and I 
 helped to see your son off." 
 
 "Ah!" said Roland, making a call on his memory 
 in vain. 
 
 Godfrey brought a letter from his pocket. " Strangely 
 enough, I heard from him yesterday. He was in great 
 feather, being ordered to the frontier ; but, of course, 
 you've heard." 
 
 "No, I didn't get a letter this mail," said Roland, 
 showing interest at once. " He's not a good corre- 
 spondent."
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE 193 
 
 "Would you care to " and Godfrey extended the 
 
 letter. 
 
 " If you think I may," rejoined Roland courteously, 
 and took the letter and read. He handed it back. 
 
 " The boy was bound to get on," he said, with paternal 
 pride indifferently restrained. 
 
 Godfrey agreed ; Roland was polite and even friendly. 
 One who was in correspondence with his son was a person 
 of consideration. As a matter of fact, it was merely the 
 second letter which Godfrey had received in three years. 
 And at the back of his mind the banker was gathering his 
 recollections. Had he not looked up in Debrett . . . ? 
 He parted with respect from his companion. 
 
 That evening Godfrey sat working late in Mr. Hey- 
 wood's library, where he had access to certain books of 
 reference on the agricultural condition of the country. 
 To him entered Ellice on her way to bed, Ellice weary 
 from the enjoyment of a theatre party. Mabel was still 
 dancing somewhere, and would dance till three under her 
 mother's wing. Ellice, with her habitual grace of free- 
 dom, threw herself, as she was, fragrant with flowers, 
 into a deep chair. 
 
 " You will tell me to go when you want, Mr. Merivale," 
 she pleaded. " I'm dead tired," and sighed. " Your 
 face looks sallow in this light," she said next, recovering 
 sufficiently to resume the sharp observation of her family. 
 " Are you working too hard? " 
 
 "Not nearly so hard as you," he retorted smilingly. 
 
 Her cloak fell from her arms, revealing her beautiful 
 bust. " I wish I knew what you were thinking under- 
 neath," said she. 
 
 " I was just then thinking how wonderful you looked," 
 said Godfrey, laying down his pen, "and that a dash of 
 crimson became you mightily." 
 
 " You think so? " she asked idly ; and after a moment 
 of abstraction, " You are very close." 
 o
 
 J 9 4 GODFREY MERIVALE 
 
 "Still waters do not always run deep, my dear Miss 
 Hey wood," he said lightly. 
 
 "I never saw you before in a vivacious mood," she 
 continued, her mental vision embracing the events of the 
 afternoon. 
 
 " You see me when I am at work," he replied. 
 
 " As, for example, now," she said. 
 
 " As, for example, now," he assented. 
 
 "It is a shame that you should work so hard," she 
 said. 
 
 " And what about yourself? " he asked. 
 
 " Oh, I do it for pleasure," said Ellice bluffly. " Who 
 was that I saw you with this afternoon ? Do I know 
 her ? " 
 
 " I hardly think so. She is an old acquaintance. Her 
 name is Strahan." 
 
 "Strahan!" echoed Ellice. "Not the South African 
 millionaire ? " 
 
 " Maybe," said Godfrey. " Her husband is something 
 of the sort. If I recollect aright his name is Daniel." 
 
 "That's the man," said Ellice. "Lady Bramley told 
 me about him. He had given her a tip or something." 
 
 "Very likely," said Godfrey. 
 
 " She's rather handsome," suggested Ellice. 
 
 " She was always regarded so." 
 
 " I suppose this man Strahan is getting a footing some- 
 where," observed Ellice, and laughed lightly. "They'll 
 follow in our train, perhaps. Anyhow, we can say we're 
 ahead of them." 
 
 " With his money and her pleasing looks," said 
 Godfrey sententiously, "there is no doubt that they will 
 be welcome." He was interrupted by a peal of laughter. 
 
 "I have you now," said Ellice, clapping her hands. 
 "You are stating your opinions of the Hey woods. With 
 our money and our pleasing looks?" 
 
 " If I had been referring to you I should have used
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE 195 
 
 another phrase than 'pleasing looks,'" said Godfrey, 
 smiling. 
 
 "You're not to be caught!" she said, and sighed. 
 "Well, it is time you turned me out"; and she rose, 
 folding her cloak over her arm. She smiled at him, a little 
 excited, the evening gown announcing her beauties, her 
 corsage full of crushed flowers. "Well, I warn you 
 I shall catch you some night when you're off guard, 
 Mr. Merivale," she said. 
 
 " I hope I shall be awake," he said. 
 
 She laughed ; there was a tiny dubiety in the phrase 
 which he had not intended, and a flush was on her face. 
 
 " You will be tired out with working too hard and too 
 late," she said, " as now. Good night." 
 
 When the rustling sound of her garments was gone 
 he stooped and picked from the floor a dishevelled flower. 
 It was the old pink clove-carnation. He smelled it, in- 
 haling the fragrance till his slight nostrils were distended ; 
 the perfume seemed to go deep into his lungs and pass 
 into the currents of his blood. He stood still for some 
 minutes. "I shall be gone in a week," he said at last, 
 and he spoke aloud unconsciously. "There's only another 
 week before they go to Cowes. I think Styria is probably 
 even better than Lily."
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 THE autumnal woods were hung with saffron and 
 with umber when Godfrey journeyed to Desborough 
 Market. Those rigorous Styrian wildernesses, sparse of 
 people, generous of sport, and hospitable to shallow 
 purses, had strung him to a pitch of health which he had 
 not known for years. The sedentary life of London 
 wears down by gradations even the strongest fibre, and, 
 while feeding the hungry mind, starves the founts of 
 health. Mr. Heywood's occupation of his secretary 
 had, luckily, taken the form of a mission, which, so far 
 from bringing Godfrey back to England, had kept him 
 abroad to study some political experiments in Italy, in 
 Switzerland, and in France. Thus did he return a burned 
 traveller, brown and handsome, lean and tall, and went 
 north to the seat of the Heywoods one clean November 
 afternoon. Here he reported on his embassy, and strove 
 to turn into the stuff of speech the information he had 
 collected over the last two months. The process excited 
 the Radical member, who was still looking for the chance 
 which would fetch his party into power and himself into 
 some place as yet unnamed. As a man who had built up 
 a large fortune by operations in business he had a fancy 
 for the Treasury, and already anticipated in his reveries 
 the advice he would offer as Financial Secretary. 
 
 The year moved towards its close, and Godfrey was 
 still at Desborough Hall, content, amused, and something 
 perturbed at times. The daughters of the house were let 
 loose upon the county; Ethel, the impudent, happy in 
 
 196
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE 197 
 
 the thought that but a few months lay between her and 
 her debut, when she would be at liberty to challenge and 
 be challenged. The raw air, free of eastern harshness, 
 blew up in Ellice's face the colour of good blood she 
 glowed like a jewel, and drew the talk of the house 
 parties. This district lay in a hunting county, and, being 
 no great distance from town, was frequented by constant 
 tides of fashionable visitors. The Duchess was informally 
 regarded as the prime person of the neighbourhood. The 
 Duchess was feather-headed and obstinate ; she had 
 passed fifty, and cultivated the company of the " smart." 
 She was drawn to this by the advantages it promised 
 to her daughters, by the giddiness of her head, and by a 
 silly habit of gambling. To complete the sum of her 
 perfections, she was hard of hearing, which was the 
 origin of the inconsequent incidents that follow. 
 
 The Duchess's party was celebrated in midwinter, and 
 before people had separated to their homes for Christmas, 
 and was, as Ellice Hey wood said, " rather of an omnibus 
 character." She explained this by the fact that two 
 streams of different people met, the permanent inhabitants 
 and the hunting visitors, the respectable and the casual, 
 who might also be "smart," but always, at least, had 
 credentials. 
 
 " Mr. Carver is staying at the Duchess's," said Mabel 
 to her sister, entering the winter garden, where Ellice 
 was in conversation with her father's good-looking 
 secretary. It was a sign of the progress their acquaint- 
 ance had made that Godfrey's eyebrows interrogated the 
 elder girl. 
 
 "Mr. Carver he's the brewing people, and will get 
 the peerage," said Ellice in explanation. "The Duchess 
 wants him, I suppose, for Helen. Lady Marvel says that 
 all brewers are either noblemen or gentlemen in disguise." 
 
 Godfrey laughed. " That is clever of Lady Marvel." 
 
 " Lady Marvel is very clever," said Mabel coldly.
 
 198 GODFREY MERIVALE 
 
 "Yes, but you must remember," pleaded Godfrey 
 gently, "that, considering my surroundings, I am more 
 exacting on that score perhaps than I should be." 
 
 Mabel shot him a questioning glance. 
 
 "How pretty!" said Ellice. "You must really be 
 rewarded. I wish I knew some way to reward you." 
 
 "Your appreciation suffices, Miss Heywood," he said, 
 
 "and " He looked at Mabel, who shrugged her 
 
 shoulders and walked away. She was amazed that 
 Ellice should waste time upon Mr. Merivale. 
 
 That night, a night between the departure of one house- 
 party and the arrival of another, Ellice stopped Godfrey 
 as he went to his room to smoke. She rallied him on his 
 devotion to work. 
 
 " Do you know," she said, " that I have taken it upon 
 me to play doctor? All work, you know, Mr. Merivale 
 . . . The Duchess wants you to come to her party." 
 
 "Indeed!" said Godfrey, staring at her. She was 
 more handsome in her eagerness than ever. "It is 
 kind of her. But who am I to secure the Duchess's 
 eyes? I have seen her once at a hundred paces, and 
 at that distance I believe also that I heard her voice." 
 
 Ellice laughed. "Oh, she's wide-awake. Smart 
 society doesn't ask for money or birth or position. It 
 requires" she snapped her fingers "je ne sais quoi ! 
 genius, character, originality, smartness. Isn't that why 
 we're all there? " she asked merrily. 
 
 " I see," said Godfrey. " And I can see also that if it 
 were on account of my merits that I were invited by the 
 kind Duchess, I must be greatly flattered. But I am in 
 doubt. I can't help suspecting some underhand influence." 
 
 Ellice's white teeth showed in her smile, and she 
 coloured. 
 
 "There are back-stairs everywhere," she said, and left 
 him with the memory of a flaunting face that yet was 
 something shy.
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE 199 
 
 The Duchess's party was not only "omnibus," but was 
 noisy. Lady Marvel declared that the hunting people 
 made it so, and added that it was not necessary to shout 
 like schoolboys in order to express enjoyment. " If you 
 romp, romp in silence," she asserted as her motto, append- 
 ing to that a philosophic remark that "on the whole 
 romping was unsatisfactory, as it was not enough for a 
 man and too much for a woman." 
 
 " Yet you romp," said Captain Osborne Heywood. 
 
 "Oh, I am good-natured," said Cynthia Marvel. 
 
 Godfrey faced the Duchess with equable distinction, 
 and soon realised that she knew nothing of him. Her 
 deaf ears caught the name which Ellice uttered, and she 
 stumbled forward over the pitfalls in her loud voice. 
 
 "Staying with you, my dear? I knew some of them, 
 but never met Sir Hubert before. How d'ye do, Sir 
 Hubert ? Let's see you're in the House, ain't you ? 
 How's politics? " and ere the explanation could be given 
 had been rapt away. 
 
 Ellice tittered and turned to her partner, and Godfrey 
 challenged Miss Darling, whom his eyes picked out at 
 a distance. She walked, a delicate vision, by his side, 
 until someone claimed her. Godfrey sought the wall, 
 an interested spectator, and watched the "omnibus" in 
 motion. It began to roll faster at midnight, when the 
 supper-room had been visited, and it was to the quickened 
 pulses of that hour that Arthur Bell made his bow. 
 Enters half an hour after midnight Arthur Bell from 
 town, fresh-coloured from the night air and genial of 
 appearance. He was thirty-five, his face was scarred 
 with marks of the hard service of pleasure, but youth 
 and assurance beamed in his eye. He was the second 
 son of the Hon. and Rev. George Bell, got his income 
 from none knew, where, and was abominably ineligible. 
 Yet he was "Arthur Bell," as it had been one word, to 
 "smart" people, and was here to lead a cotillion in the 
 proper way. His dress was perfection.
 
 200 GODFREY MERIVALE 
 
 "Shall I begin by turning a cartwheel, Duchess?' 
 shouted he in his hostess's ear. 
 
 "By no means, Arthur Bell. This is not Liberty Hall," 
 she retorted. "Talk to Helen there." 
 
 But Lady Bramley, who had been absent a fortnight 
 from town, begged of his company to learn the news, 
 and here was the piece of gossip sent afloat that led 
 Ellice Heywood to her fate. It was whispered in town, 
 said Arthur Bell, that young Teddy Ormerod and the 
 title would go in due time to the music-halls. "Peggy 
 Pearl" was the name he threw at her, and Lady Bramley's 
 grimace expressed at once her shock on hearing the 
 terrible news and her delight in being the first recipient. 
 
 Meanwhile the Duchess, under the influences of that 
 genial hour, pounced upon Godfrey again, beaming. 
 
 " How d'ye do, Sir Hubert?" she said, and flung him 
 
 upon a pretty girl in white. "Sir Hubert Miss " 
 
 he really did not catch the name. 
 
 " Nothing like a married man for 'em," said the Duchess 
 to a friend in a loud voice. " Safe as a clergyman. It's 
 detrimentals are dangerous." 
 
 Godfrey was aware of a red colour that had stolen into 
 his companion's face. 
 
 "As a matter of fact I'm not married," said he to her 
 cheerfully, "and I'm not Sir Hubert. I've tried several 
 times to explain both facts to the Duchess, but so far 
 without avail." 
 
 The girl tittered. 
 
 " Perhaps I shall succeed directly," he continued, " and 
 in the meantime if you are not afraid of a detrimental " 
 
 The pretty girl said amid further tittering that she was 
 not, and they talked in friendly intimacy. This was her 
 second ball, and she did not know many people ; she was 
 not at all tired, and she wouldn't mind staying there 
 till morning broke. These, as Godfrey gathered, were 
 her main sentiments. The omnibus was gathering speed,
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE 201 
 
 and Arthur Bell was conducting with all the dignity that 
 they merited the operations of the cotillion. The pretty 
 girl, who had been addressed by someone in passing as 
 Nellie, breathed deeply from her bosom as this dance 
 proceeded. Her eyes sparkled, and she turned bright and 
 appealing eyes on him now and then. He was sure that 
 she was counting on his whole-hearted sympathy. 
 
 " Isn't it beautiful? " she murmured in emotion ; and to 
 Godfrey's questions, No ; she had danced once only in 
 a cotillion, and they said she had done it badly. But 
 she would give anything . . . Godfrey thought she ought 
 to be in bed at her age, and felt disposed to say so ; but at 
 that moment Arthur Bell emerged in triumph, the figure 
 came abruptly to an end amid a sharp squeal of fiddles 
 and Nellie dropped her fan in her agitation. 
 
 As it happened Godfrey dived for it simultaneously, and 
 the little dainty head struck him at a tangent ; he felt 
 a warm, smooth cheek brush against his ; and the next 
 moment they were back again- in their seats, two blushing, 
 smiling faces. At this instant Godfrey heard his name, 
 and, looking up, saw Ellice Heywood, her face full of 
 colour, and her body of movement from the cotillion, 
 her lips apart and an interrogation in her expression. 
 
 "Even if you do forget your engagements, Mr. Meri- 
 vale," she said with asperity, "I suppose we shall have 
 to forgive you in the circumstances. Am I to have no 
 supper ? " 
 
 He rose in confusion, and looked awkwardly at Nellie. 
 But the pretty girl sent him a smile, and he recovered 
 himself. 
 
 " If I am to be pardoned?" he said, with a ceremonious 
 bow, and got away forthwith. 
 
 " You are furious, are you not? " asked Ellice, as they 
 passed out of the room. 
 
 "My dear Miss Heywood, I am particularly charmed to 
 be walking in this public manner with the heroine of the 
 cotillion and besides, I want another supper very badly. "
 
 202 GODFREY MERIVALE 
 
 Ellice laughed faintly. "Who was that with you?" 
 she asked bluntly. 
 
 " It was Nellie," said he. 
 
 "Nellie!" echoed Ellice in astonishment, and pausing 
 in her walk ; " Nellie what? " she asked sharply. 
 
 " I'm sure I haven't any idea," said Godfrey humbly. 
 " I know she's Nellie, and she knows I'm Sir Hubert, 
 and is half inclined to think I'm a married man. That 
 is why she was so trusting." 
 
 " Very trusting ! " said Ellice, with her brief laugh, and 
 added out of the largeness of her heart, "She is rather 
 pretty. " 
 
 In the supper-room he obtained for her some champagne 
 and some food, and they talked. Presently comes up the 
 rumour to them, tossing on the tide of scandal, and to 
 that was added an interesting sequel. Young Ormerod 
 was already prisoner among the chorus-girls, and unless 
 he could be cut from under their noses, Peggy Pearl 
 would have him for certain. The full flavour of this 
 gossip was derived from the presence of Teddy Ormerod 
 at the ball. He had already been seen flying round on 
 the wings of the waltz with Lady Helen. Lady Marvel 
 made the addition to the story. 
 
 "The Duchess turned colour, poor creature! She 
 keeps Mr. Carver in one pocket for Helen, and she wants 
 Mr. Ormerod in the other for Gladys. It's a monstrous 
 appetite to swallow at two bites two peerages and a 
 hundred and twenty thousand a year." 
 
 " She mustn't do it," said Ellice, beginning her second 
 glass of champagne. " It's indecent. What will become 
 of us all?" 
 
 " My dear, I'm sure I don't know what will become of 
 you," said Lady Marvel sweetly, with a look at Godfrey 
 as if she would say, "Now, how came you here?" He 
 met her scrutiny gravely, and she laughed lightly. " The 
 company's very mixed, Mr. Merivale, isn't it?" she said.
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE 203 
 
 He noted in his mind that she remembered his name. 
 
 "Yes," he assented, with the air of one deliberating:. 
 " I suppose that's why you and I like it. It is the only 
 opportunity we have of meeting each other." 
 
 Again Lady Marvel laughed lightly, but Ellice's face 
 had darkened. 
 
 "Well, tell me some more about the Duchess," she 
 demanded. 
 
 " If Mr. Merivale would be so good as to get me 
 even me, a glass of champagne, I will proceed to relate," 
 she said. Godfrey hastened to obey, and she turned 
 about to a man who hovered near. " Thank you, Sir 
 James. I am already being attended to. ... No, I 
 never had any sense of equity. . . . Go and talk to 
 Lady Gladys. . . . The Duchess," my dear, she resumed, 
 accepting the glass from Godfrey with a tender smile, 
 "the Duchess, as I say, turned of a brick red and 
 quavered. ' This must be stopped,' she said in loud agita- 
 tion ; ' I will never see poor Graham Ormerod's son ruin 
 himself. He might as well throw himself into a cesspool ! ' 
 I daresay she meant something else. ' Well,' said I, 
 for, my dear Mr. Merivale, you must by this have guessed 
 that it was I who broke it to her, much against my will, 
 
 'there is only one way,' said I. 'You mean ' says 
 
 she. ' The hair of the dog that bit him,' said I." 
 
 " What on earth did you mean? " asked Ellice. 
 
 " The Duchess, not being stupid," pursued Lady Marvel 
 serenely, "saw at once what I meant, and I left her pre- 
 paring her plans." 
 
 "You mean " said Ellice. 
 
 "I mean Gladys," said Lady Marvel, "and in the 
 nick of time she comes. There's Gladys over yonder ; 
 and who is it, do you suppose, that the Duchess has by 
 the ears ? " 
 
 Godfrey looked, and his hostess, radiant and gracious, 
 was to be seen entering the supper-room on the arm of a
 
 204 GODFREY MERIVALE 
 
 slight, plain, and shy young man of six- or seven-and- 
 twenty. 
 
 "That, my dear Mr. Merivale, is young Ormerod," 
 explained Lady Marvel. 
 
 " She's making for Gladys," said Ellice eagerly. " Oh, 
 it's a shame ! There ought to be laws against it." 
 
 " Why don't you stop it? " asked Lady Marvel, sipping 
 from her glass. 
 
 "I will!" cried Ellice, her eyes alight and turned on 
 Godfrey. "You must help me come! You're Sir 
 Hubert, you know. Come ! " 
 
 Her imperious voice summoned him ; he moved after 
 her obediently towards the Duchess. Lady Marvel sipped 
 her wine thoughtfully. 
 
 " I should be frightened if I had that young woman's 
 audacity," she remarked to Sir James. 
 
 Carried along by her own spirits, and under the spur 
 of her success and the wine, Ellice went up to the 
 Duchess, who, according to Lady Marvel's prophecy, 
 was seeking her daughter. 
 
 "Gladys ! " she called, and upon that turned to Ellice. 
 
 "Duchess, Sir Hubert begs that you " began that 
 
 young lady. 
 
 The Duchess smiled and nodded, remembering that 
 Sir Hubert was of importance. "Very good cotillion, 
 Sir Hubert," she suggested in her loud, uneven voice. 
 She dreamed of no trick, and Gladys was coming, 
 obedient to the maternal command. 
 
 "May I get you something, Duchess?" said Godfrey 
 suavely, but quaking at his heart. 
 
 The Duchess looked round her, but there was only the 
 amplitude of her skirt and no plain, shy Ormerod. She 
 glared and frowned. 
 
 "May I get you something?" said Godfrey's amiable 
 voice. 
 
 The Duchess came to herself, and took it very well on 
 the whole.
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE 205 
 
 "Er no, thank you, Sir Hubert," she said shortly. 
 "But you'd better get it for my daughter. Gladys, this 
 is Sir Hubert Merivale." She committed the second 
 introduction in the vague belief that it solved in some 
 way the difficulty into which she had drifted. At all 
 events, whereas she had three seconds before had a girl 
 and a young man on her hands, she had now paired them 
 off and was free. She went in search of the fugitive. 
 
 " I'm not Sir Hubert, you know," explained Godfrey 
 somewhat weakly to Lady Gladys. Somehow he thought 
 it would be desirable to disclaim a false identity to a 
 daughter of the house. " I don't know how your mother 
 comes to make the mistake." 
 
 "Oh, mamma's hopeless at names," said Lady Gladys 
 cheerfully, and her gaze invited him to reveal himself. 
 Godfrey, however, did not give his name. 
 
 The Desborough party left in the thick of the departures. 
 They had come in three broughams, Mrs. Heywood and 
 her two daughters in one, while Godfrey occupied one 
 of the others in the company of a Colonel Valance, who 
 was Osborne Heywood's friend. In the rush and con- 
 fusion of getting off, however, a mistake occurred. 
 
 "The next brougham, please," said Mrs. Heywood to 
 one of her guests, and Godfrey wandered helplessly in 
 search of his vehicle. He was aware of fluttering gar- 
 ments by his side, and Ellice's voice sounded on his ear. 
 
 "Do you know where mamma is, Mr. Merivale?" 
 He turned to show her, but found she had stopped. 
 "Oh, it's Bennett, isn't it?" she asked, and a foot- 
 man opened a carriage door. Ellice stepped in. She put 
 out her head. "Mr. Merivale," she called. "You will 
 have to walk if you don't take your chance. We're all 
 mixed in this crowd. It's this long terrace does it." 
 
 Godfrey hesitated, his hand on the window, his gaze 
 searching among the trooping guests of the Duchess. 
 He was conscious of something warm that touched him.
 
 206 GODFREY MERIVALE 
 
 Ellice had leaned forth, and her cloaked form swept the 
 sash. "Oh, for goodness' sake be quick!" she said 
 impatiently. He got into the brougham, and the coach- 
 man moved his horses. 
 
 For some minutes Godfrey lay back in silence. The 
 lamp in front of them beamed uncertainly on the face of 
 Ellice, secure and still in her wraps, and she wavered 
 before his eyes, a shadowy thing, a mysterious bundle of 
 sweet and fragrant garments. A rustle issued on the air ; 
 her lips had parted and she looked at him, a tremulous 
 smile upon her face, and the flickering lamp in her eyes. 
 These were deep pools, the deeper for the light that 
 flashed in them, the brighter for the darkness. Nay ; it 
 was neither shadow nor perfumed silk, but a live body 
 and warm presence. He saw the knot of flowers heave 
 swiftly at her bosom as upon the tide of the sea. 
 
 "Well, did you manage?" he asked, to break across 
 his rising feelings. The hammers of the heart thumped 
 heavily. 
 
 "Manage?" she asked, starting, and then drew the 
 cloak closer about her. " Oh," she said shortly, " I'm sure 
 I don't know." 
 
 He looked out of the window. "We seem to have 
 left the others," he said, detaching himself from the 
 atmosphere with an effort. 
 
 " Have we? " she asked indifferently. 
 
 Godfrey came back from his stupid stare into the bleak 
 winter night. He saw nothing there but an ugly waste 
 of field, lying white under snow ; in the brougham was 
 beauty and the warmth of that perilous proximity. The 
 amazing perfection of the gown he had admired stole out 
 of the cloak and visited the twilight. It glimmered to 
 her feet. The cloak itself, cumbrous and dark, was as 
 the veil before a goddess, hiding a loveliness that would 
 spring forth at will in all its radiance. He became aware 
 of a glow that spread through him in that cold wilderness
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE 207 
 
 through which they rolled. The silence was wonderful 
 and exquisite, but he marshalled himself to conversation. 
 He spoke of the Duchess, and was answered perfunctorily. 
 Miss Heywood was tired. She shut her eyes and sank 
 back in the cushions ; she crossed her legs, and the hand- 
 some gown shone clearer in the light her white shoes of 
 satin and the white silk hose gleamed below the glitter- 
 ing braid of pearls. Godfrey was afraid of the silence, 
 for out of it all that was Merivale in him was gathering 
 inspiration and courage, and the more reticent blood of 
 other lines withdrew and trembled. He winced at the 
 touch of that full-spreading cloak, but his gaze was upon 
 the corner where she lay. He broke out again into speech, 
 this time of Lady Marvel. Ellice sat up. 
 
 " Don't you think she's beautiful? " she asked. 
 
 Godfrey hesitated. "Yes," he said. "I suppose she 
 is. But she is not expressed to me by the word. She is 
 pervasive when present. There is something more in her 
 than beauty ; one recognises that also, I suppose. But 
 she is ... one may be beautiful and furniture. She is dif- 
 ferent ; she exudes " He laughed, for he had striven 
 
 very hard at his definition in order to detach his thoughts. 
 He felt he had grown saner already. 
 
 " You are enthusiastic," said Ellice. 
 
 He demurred. "I'm not sure that you can call it that," 
 he said. " She is there as a powerful influence, but I 
 don't know that I admire her I think I might distaste 
 the influence." 
 
 Ellice laughed now. " You know what they say of her. 
 It's rather silly. ' What she dares she doesn't, and what 
 she does she dursn't.' " 
 
 "No, I hadn't heard that," said Godfrey slowly. "I 
 wonder who said that." 
 
 "I suppose there is some meaning in it," said Ellice. 
 " I confess it baffles me." 
 
 "Yes, I suppose there's some meaning in it," he agreed.
 
 208 GODFREY MERIVALE 
 
 " I have an idea that it's very clever, and that I should 
 understand it if I knew Lady Marvel better." 
 
 " Oh, you will," said Ellice, with a laugh ; " you are in 
 favour. I know her dropped eyelids and gentle voice. 
 There's no woman in the world can look tenderer without 
 meaning it than Cynthia Marvel," she ended on a sharper 
 note. 
 
 "Now, then, I begin to see ; you open my eyes," said 
 Godfrey, satisfied to have reached this plane of intellectual 
 conflict. " ' What she dares she doesn't.' " 
 
 " Oh yes, you can make something out of it, I daresay," 
 said Ellice coldly. " It's not a very profitable subject for 
 conversation." 
 
 Here was the frank snub, and he settled into silence 
 again, abashed. He thought of Lady Marvel to keep his 
 mind from his companion. " What she does, she dursn't. " 
 He could well imagine that Cynthia Marvel did some 
 things that she should not, in addition to promising other 
 things that she would not. . . . His mind lingered on her, 
 and the carriage grew cooler it was quite cold when they 
 stopped before the hall, cold as the desolate reaches of 
 the park, cold as the white inanimate ground. He 
 assisted Ellice from the brougham, and followed her into 
 the house. 
 
 "We are before the others," she said, throwing oft' her 
 wrap, and cast a glance at him. He met it. 
 
 "May I poke the fire?" he asked, and did so without 
 waiting. Yet the room was warm enough, warmer than 
 the carriage. Ellice sat in a long chair. He lingered in 
 the room, and then moved towards the door. A clock 
 chimed from the boudoir at the back. Ellice half turned 
 her head at the sound. 
 
 "Won't you wait, Mr. Merivale ? " she said. The 
 seduction of her eyes was irresistible. 
 
 "Yes," he said abruptly, and she lowered her face, as 
 if to regard the fire with greater attention. He came
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE 209 
 
 quickly to within three paces of her. Before the luxurious 
 appointments of the room, in face of the physical invita- 
 tion of the woman, and stirred strongly by the look of 
 intimacy which sprang out of their solitude and dazzled 
 him, Godfrey felt the currents of his blood swing wildly 
 along their courses. Something of the heroic violence of 
 his blunt ancestors moved him, but it was touched of a 
 more delicate motive than they would have recognised. 
 Boldness spoke from his tongue, and his heart rocked 
 within him. 
 
 " It was almost as if we had bolted," said he, with his 
 unwavering gaze on her. 
 
 " Yes, isn't it ? " came weakly from the woman. 
 
 " In a sense I suppose we did bolt," said the iron 
 Merivale, from a thousand years of practical blood. 
 
 She laughed uncertainly. "Oh, it wasn't so bad as that," 
 she protested. 
 
 The private secretary came closer. " Do you know 
 what you are like ? " said he. 
 
 She raised her eyes, bright and tremulous, and met that 
 unfaltering and ardent gaze. " How should I ? I suppose 
 they will be in directly." 
 
 If this had been how he had wooed Laura, the mother 
 of two prattling children, the helpmeet of a prosperous 
 " stockjobber " ! But it is not possible even for youth to 
 stand still ; the waters slide under the bridge for ever, and 
 he had the burden of four additional years. 
 
 "You are like a red, red rose that's newly sprung in 
 June," he said. They both breathed the deeper, for 
 Ellice Heywood recalled the context of the lines. 
 
 " It isn't June, alas ! " she returned; "and I'm sorry I'm 
 so blooming. Is my face so red ? " 
 
 He bent nearer, hanging over the back of the chair, 
 and thus was witness from above how her bosom came 
 and went so fast. Perturbation shook him. 
 
 "No," he said brusquely, "you are an enchanted 
 garden of sweet-smelling flowers not one, but all." 
 p
 
 2io GODFREY MERIVALE 
 
 "It is the clove," she murmured indistinctly, and 
 with an awkward movement plucked at the flower in her 
 bosom. He put forth his hand and swiftly but forcefully 
 detached it. 
 
 " Don't !" she cried. 
 
 The clove was in his fingers and went to his nostrils ; 
 the fragrance struck into his brain, as it had struck once 
 before. 
 
 "They are very late," said Ellice tremulously. 
 
 The clove fell from Godfrey's hand ; he stooped and 
 picked it up ; and when he rose he walked away from the 
 fire ; he pushed aside the blind and looked out. 
 
 " Yes, very late," he said, in another voice. 
 
 The girl watched him fearfully while his back was to 
 her, and dropped her gaze quickly when he turned. 
 
 "Can I get you nothing?" he asked, with difficult 
 ceremoniousness. 
 
 Ellice rose. "No, thank you; I must go to bed. 
 Good night." 
 
 She went towards the door and he followed. Out in 
 the hall she passed g^ently away between the half lights 
 like a ghost melting into the darkness ; not until she 
 was gone did Godfrey remember the clove in his hand. 
 He put it carefully in his button-hole, and went to his 
 room. Outside he heard carriage wheels sounding upon 
 the drive. 
 
 Ellice Heywood did not go to bed, as she had said. 
 She sat to her table by the electric light, and, pulling 
 paper and pen to her with agitation, wrote. Next morning 
 early the rack contained a letter addressed to Edward 
 Ormerod, Esquire.
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 BEFORE Christmas Godfrey had returned to his 
 rooms in the Temple, and was engaged deeply 
 with a treatise which was to appear under Mr. Heywood's 
 name, and draw the eyes of his party chiefs. It dealt 
 with the conditions of Foreign Trade, and as Godfrey 
 remarked to his friend Carter 
 
 "If I'd known that I was to be apprenticed to litera- 
 ture in this way, I think I would have written a book on 
 my own account. It might have been more interesting, 
 to me at. any rate." 
 
 It was here he heard of Ellice's engagement to Mr. 
 Edward Ormerod through a paragraph in the Morning 
 Post, and, although he was not at the wedding, owing 
 to his absence abroad shortly after Easter, he sent a 
 pretty present of gems a pearl and garnet necklace, 
 discovered by chance in a second-hand shop. The book 
 forged slowly forward, and the successful man of business 
 was satisfied with his secretary's literary powers. 
 
 " An air of scholarship is not amiss, Merivale," said he 
 in his suave voice ; " yet," considering gently in his mind, 
 " not too positive we must be practical a soup^on, a 
 flavour, no more." 
 
 This was the mind that had amassed hundreds of thou- 
 sands of pounds, neat and diligent, neither adventurous 
 nor large, but tenacious, confident of itself, and un- 
 burdened by shame, sensitiveness, or altruistic folly. He 
 weighed the chances, scrupulously true to his standard. 
 There was a question of some facts which might be
 
 212 GODFREY MERIVALE 
 
 distorted or suppressed. Slyness peered out of his sleek 
 voice 
 
 " I don't think we can do that, Merivale," he said, with 
 calm deliberation, "I . . . really . . . don't think we 
 can do that." 
 
 Godfrey had not proposed that it should be done ; the 
 thought was bred in the man's mind, and flew out into the 
 light, unconscious of itself, revealing itself in that very 
 doubt and negation. 
 
 Spring swung in that year with precipitation. The 
 bleak, blanched face of the world shivered under a feral 
 March, but April stole some softness out of May, and 
 from the back of that wilful month summer shimmered 
 and glistened through her gauze and lawns. It was an 
 ominous year for the house of Merivale, a year in tune 
 with the unfriendly spring rather than the benignant 
 summer. Fate pricked off her numbers on the card, and 
 of a sudden Edward and Raymond, those two tall hunters, 
 laid down the express and the elephant rifle for ever. 
 Edward and Raymond, undivided in their death as in their 
 lives, had spent nearly two years in the interior districts 
 of East Africa, and now no more would return to stand 
 as wallflowers of the bar, and "make up for lost time" 
 in the civilisation upon which they had turned their backs 
 so long. Godfrey, reading of the lamentable affray, dis- 
 tinctly recalled them. He was not sure if it was Edward 
 or Raymond who had said that shooting big game was 
 "pretty good fun," but he remembered the straight, lean 
 bodies, the browned faces, and the blue contented eyes. 
 The treachery of a native chief had resulted in the 
 massacre of the whole party save one scared bearer who 
 struggled to the coast. The massacre is memorable 
 in history only as the origin of a small, punitive expedi- 
 tion, and the extension of the borders of the Empire. 
 The banners stormed yet another patch of blood-stained 
 and luxuriant wilderness, and Edward and Raymond,
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE 215 
 
 souls innocent of policy or design, had given their lives 
 as pioneers of the Imperial idea. 
 
 Not alone of their line did they go forth that black year, 
 hurried precipitately into the gulf. Roland, the banker, 
 retired now even from his daily call at the office, and 
 taking his rank among connoisseurs and men of ease and 
 taste, watched with paternal care the progress of his 
 soldier son. ' The frontier was a busy place, and men 
 made and lost their names there. Here it was that 
 Second-Lieutenant John Roland Merivale was stationed 
 when he learned of his promotion "to be lieutenant," 
 a fact which, figuring in small type in that well-conned 
 corner of the Times, became the occasion of a dinner 
 party at Richmond. Roland was too old for dinners, 
 as he said, and lunched usually at a club and dined at 
 home. His solitariness did not weigh upon him. He 
 had an admirable housekeeper, servants to fit his whims, 
 and his pleasant and veteran hobbies. Moreover, he was 
 ageing in good health, which is the end of every man's 
 desire. He had worn his channel of life through the 
 customs of years, and his long widowhood had helped 
 him to forget that he had ever lived otherwise than he did 
 now. Moreover, no Merivale would suffer the inclusion 
 of a woman in his family circle to affect his tastes or 
 habits materially. In his married life, indeed, he may be 
 said to have lived a bachelor, and, widowed, he was 
 nearly as much married as he had ever been. But old 
 age has also its frailties, and upon Roland the banker 
 had grown the pride of race and a personal pride upon 
 that. If Hubert was the head of the house, Roland was 
 at least its mentor and its doyen, and Jack was heir- 
 presumptive. He had never hankered after the title 
 in the old days, when his active wits told him that Jack 
 would be more comfortable with freedom and his own 
 generous patrimony than with the responsibilities and 
 encumbrances and charges of Pontrack and Chevisly.
 
 214 GODFREY MERIVALE 
 
 But time had changed his attitude ; the bank was still 
 the bank, an honourable source of wealth, but behind 
 that stood the pile of Pontrack, its chequered history, 
 and the ancient traditions of the Merivales. Under the 
 influence of these new thoughts he began to shoot 
 inquiring glances at Hubert's domestic life. The pleasant 
 woman, Honoria, so anxious to justify her admission 
 to the family, by her manner, her sweetness, and her 
 morals, had yet failed to offer the only justification that 
 was needed. Old Roland chuckled at the thought, and 
 in celebrating Jack at his party celebrated also in secret 
 the heir. The party included Lady Merivale, and his 
 cousins, Lady George Bower and Mrs. Edworth, with 
 their husbands. Sir Hubert was elsewhere, and could 
 spare no time for domestic gatherings. So it was Roland 
 who presided, and Roland who was the chief of the 
 party, who stood, in truth, for the Merivale line of which 
 they were all so proud. 
 
 "I wouldn't ask Katharine," he explained to Lady 
 George, in reference to the Countess of Hayling ; " we're 
 not on good terms now." 
 
 "What's she done?" asked Lady George, putting the 
 dress aright upon her handsome shoulders. 
 
 "Oh, she's ridiculous," said Roland, with irritation. 
 "She wants some of her abominable Church guilds held 
 here, and I told her I would see her damned." 
 
 Lady George burst out laughing. " I don't believe you 
 did," she said. 
 
 "Well, it was to that effect," snapped Roland, and 
 stared at his cousin's husband, the Rev. James Edworth, 
 Rector of Purland, who was indulgently regarding him. 
 
 The dinner, indeed, was a mistake, as it turned out, and 
 was the last of the kind that Roland undertook. Lord 
 George was dyspeptic and pessimistic, and the Edworths 
 seized the opportunity to beg. 
 
 " Hang the man 1 He had fifty pounds out of me last
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE 215 
 
 year for his infernal bells," said angry Roland. But Lady 
 George was consoling, and poor Lady Merivale was 
 gentle. Her dress advertised riches, as her voice did 
 amiability. 
 
 "Jack's got promotion," said Roland, coming to his 
 point abruptly late in the dinner. "I'm going to ask you 
 to drink to him." 
 
 "What! captain?" said Mrs. Ed worth, and Roland 
 had to confess that that rank was still to come. 
 
 " I thought captain came next to lieutenant," said the 
 rector's lady feebly. 
 
 " Well, it doesn't," snapped Roland. " Violet, will you 
 drink to Jack?" 
 
 " Certainly," said Lady George. " Here's to Jack, and 
 may he soon be a general ! " 
 
 " We'll all drink that," said Lady Merivale, and Lord 
 George was heard to murmur that the champagne was 
 not dry enough. 
 
 " To Jack ! " they cried. 
 
 The wine had warmed Roland, as it should warm all 
 hale old gentlemen. "Jack is going far," he declared 
 in a jargon he had gathered among artists. " Lieutenant 
 to-day and captain to-morrow. And why not general, 
 eh ? " he declared, beaming. It was the one successful 
 moment of the evening, and was rudely interrupted by 
 the sombre Lord George. The butler had furnished him 
 with an agreeable wine, which he sipped, in greater 
 harmony with his company than heretofore. 
 
 "A fine chap, Jack," he observed impartially. Roland 
 was of the private opinion that as son to him Jack was 
 without equal ; he swelled with pride, and beamed on 
 Lord George. 
 
 "Violet, a glass with you," said he to Lady George, 
 who nodded and smiled. 
 
 " He will make a very good figurehead," pursued the 
 fatuous Lord George. " He will carry on the line well, 
 by George when he gets to Pontrack."
 
 2i6 GODFREY MERIVALE 
 
 Poor Lady Merivale reddened and then whitened ; her 
 eyes fluttered. Lady George, who was none too sensitive, 
 who was never afraid of gross facts, and who had a sense 
 of humour, burst out laughing. But Roland frowned. 
 
 "He'll do quite well at Richmond," he said sharply, 
 like an excellent gentleman. 
 
 But Lady George's laugh more than her husband's 
 blundering words had done the mischief. The wound 
 rankled in the poor lady's heart. It was true they were 
 toasting the heir. She wept on Lady George's bosom in 
 the drawing-room. 
 
 "My dear Honoria," said Violet practically, "why 
 bother your head about such things ? You can't help 
 it. People excite themselves too much about such 
 matters. But what's the good of crying over it? Will 
 you tell me what's to be done ? One would think there 
 was a specific remedy for it. If there is, I've never heard 
 of it. You're welcome to one of mine, if you like." 
 
 It was upon this sad note that the hapless dinner 
 ended ; but they had toasted the new lieutenant, the heir, 
 as Roland afterwards avowed to himself in the spacious 
 seclusion of his lonely rooms the heir, what tears soever 
 unhappy Lady Merivale might shed, what wrath soever 
 smouldered in Hubert's heart. 
 
 " He had his chance," said Roland philosophically, 
 "and he chose to throw it away deliberately. He made 
 his choice, and sold it all for a mess of pottage. And 
 he must stick by his bargain." 
 
 There seemed no doubt of that logic. The real doubt, 
 as the irony of fortune had it, was in another quarter, 
 and was rising even while they sat and toasted the heir. 
 It was a small cloud across the frontier, grown no bigger 
 than a man's hand, a wretched "twopenny" business, 
 the raid of a border tribe. The new lieutenant, who was 
 also the promised heir of those broad acres and that 
 time-worn castle, lay within the week upon an Indian hill-
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE 217 
 
 side, his young face to the dawn and a Pathan knife 
 in his heart. It was soon over, effected with wonderful 
 celerity, the affair of twenty minutes all told ; but it 
 sufficed. Roland must look now for another heir to the 
 ancient house of his fathers, and the army must await 
 the adolescence of another general. 
 
 Hubert, whom the duties of his office had summoned 
 out of town, sent a long telegram of condolence to the 
 father, but had no time in his preoccupation to write. 
 Yet a fortnight later, upon his return, he remembered 
 that the ties of blood are exigent, and entail a sacrifice. 
 He drove down to Richmond to offer in person the 
 sympathies he had already sent over the wires. The 
 banker had altered in trfe short interval ; his head had 
 sunk and whitened, and his neat spare frame had kinked 
 somewhere. His eyes rested coldly upon his cousin, who 
 offered his hand heartily. "I'm sorry, Roland," he said 
 for the third time. "I'm damned sorry; it has been a 
 blow to you." 
 
 "Yes, it has been a blow," said Roland in his old 
 metallic voice, and inquired after Lady Merivale. 
 
 "Oh, Honoria's well; she goes to Scotland next 
 month, but I shan't be able to stay there more than a 
 fortnight. I'm called to Germany in connection with the 
 Bill, and I shall have my hands full when I get back. 
 But Honoria will probably stay in Scotland through 
 September." 
 
 "You are a busy man, Hubert," said his cousin thought- 
 fully. "This is different from the old idling days." 
 
 " It's the penalty I pay for them," said the Baronet, 
 shrugging his shoulders. " There's not much fun in it." 
 
 "I don't fancy there's much fun anywhere," observed 
 Roland. 
 
 "Oh, come," said Hubert, "remember the days of 
 your youth, Roland. I had a very good time. I can't 
 look upon mine as misspent. I think I could improve
 
 2i8 GODFREY MERIVALE 
 
 upon it somewhat, though," he added reflectively; "that's 
 all I would say." 
 
 "Youth!" said Roland slowly, "yes, I suppose there 
 was youth ; but one has forgotten a good deal. It's a 
 long space over which to look back. One's occupied 
 in living in the present." 
 
 " Oh, the present's not bad," said Hubert casually, and 
 then remembered. "This is very hard for you," he said 
 next. " We could have made something of Jack." 
 
 "Yes, I think we could," admitted the father. "I 
 should imagine he would have got his captaincy next 
 year. I had a kind letter from the War Office, hinting 
 as much." 
 
 He spoke with aloofness, as if this was a matter for 
 disinterested criticism, and Hubert struck the same note. 
 The two pairs of steel-blue eyes met without emotion, 
 glittered, and held their secrets. Hubert's was this, that 
 he was touched by a sympathy rare with him. He had 
 liked Jack, and old Roland looked so old. Instead of the 
 half-hour he had promised himself, he kept the carriage 
 waiting thrice that time. They smoked in the garden 
 upon the lawn, where the hollyhocks lined the clean 
 gravel walk, and where Jack had played cricket in years 
 gone by. The curve of the Thames passed Twickenham 
 and wound round towards Teddington. Hubert's gaze 
 travelled across the water, specked with boats, and rested 
 upon the vague mysterious heights of Windsor. He felt 
 a wave of sadness flood him lightly, touching his memories 
 and his affections. He had given the boy Jack lessons 
 in boxing, and had taught him how to row. 
 
 " Yonder's where we were spilled, Jack and I," he said 
 to Roland, pointing a cigar at the river. 
 
 "Ah, yes, so it is," assented Roland stiffly. "I had 
 forgotten." 
 
 " We have been amazingly unlucky lately," said Hubert 
 next. " First Edward and Raymond, and then " he
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE 219 
 
 broke off, a startled expression holding his face and his 
 eyes alight. "Great heavens! Roland, I never thought of 
 it ! Who succeeds ? " 
 
 Roland cast a glance at him. "Don't you know?" 
 he asked. 
 
 "No, I don't. I never thought I never have looked 
 at the family tree for years. Of course, I thought Jack 
 or Edward or Who the devil ? " 
 
 " It's a descendant of the fourth baronet," said Roland. 
 " I've seen him. Oddly enough Jack knew him." 
 
 "The deuce! Where and who is he? Let me have 
 your Debrett, like a good chap " ; and Sir Hubert had 
 flung himself from his easy-chair and walked towards the 
 house. Presently he returned with a volume. 
 
 "Here it is," said he. "Merivale . . . Roland, 
 married Charlotte, dau. of Jonathan Mersey had issue 
 Godfrey ..." He looked up. "You say you've seen 
 him. Why haven't we heard of him before ? " 
 
 Roland, the banker, shook his head. "Jack knew him," 
 he repeated slowly. " He had letters from Jack. I think 
 he seemed a decent fellow. Jack said something about 
 his being an editor or writer, or something of that sort." 
 
 In Sir Hubert's mind memories turned gradually. 
 " Editor ! " he said, and looked at the page. " I suppose 
 this is all right," he asked ; " there is no doubt? " 
 
 "They always have chapter and verse," said his cousin. 
 
 "How did you come across this Godfrey Merivale?" 
 demanded Sir Hubert abruptly. 
 
 " I think he came to see Jack off ... that was let 
 me see how long ago was that ? He had a letter from 
 Jack when I saw him again. He was a tall, slight man, 
 I think. That was when Jack went up to the frontier. 
 He was with one of those . . . you know, those girls 
 . . . married young Ormerod." 
 
 " Hey wood ! " said Sir Hubert, grinding his heel on the 
 stump of cigar, and he rose. A black look of incredulity
 
 220 GODFREY MERIVALE 
 
 and anger marked his strong features. He had heard 
 once that his enemy of the Argus, that troublesome 
 spectre, had gone to Heywood. Someone, indeed, had 
 spoken of the private secretary but the day previously. 
 The soft afternoon air from the river below was on his 
 hard distempered and handsome face. He had asked 
 why he had not heard of Godfrey before. By the chance 
 of fortune he was to hear of him at that moment. A 
 servant issued from the house with a card upon a salver, 
 which Roland took and scrutinised. 
 
 . "Very well," he said to the servant, "show him here"; 
 and as the man went, "You will now have an opportunity 
 of seeing him. Odd he should come at this moment." 
 
 Hubert stared at him. " What ? " he said. 
 
 Roland handed him the card. 
 
 "Damn the man!" roared Hubert; and turning sharply 
 on his cousin, "You can't have him in here. You can't 
 
 see him. It isn't decent in him. It " but already 
 
 Godfrey was upon the lawn. 
 
 He advanced, his hat in his hand, as it had remained 
 since he left the house, and he saw not Sir Hubert, but 
 Roland. Once again was the emotional strain in his 
 nature paramount ; he saw an old man, drawn and 
 withered of face, with thin white hair. The sight had 
 softened even the undiluted Merivale blood of Hubert. 
 Godfrey burst out with frank sympathy, awkward and 
 simple. 
 
 " He was my friend," said he ; "I liked the boy as I 
 have liked few. I thought I would like to tell you that one 
 who claims some kinship with you was saddened by that 
 paragraph in the papers. He would have done much." 
 
 "We think so," said Roland, with a cough. Sir 
 Hubert fixed the new-comer with a steady eye, his whole 
 nature bristling. This fellow ! The Lord keep the house 
 of Merivale if it had sunk to this ! Hubert smelled 
 degeneracy, trade, and effeminate emotions ; this man
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE 221 
 
 delivered his phrases theatrically, he coloured like a girl. 
 He turned his back on him, but Roland's voice called him, 
 and he wheeled about. 
 
 " This is Sir Hubert Merivale," said the banker. 
 Godfrey's colour rose again, and Hubert's grin was just 
 that with which he had confused and enraged a lad some 
 eight or nine years since. 
 
 Godfrey bowed without speech ; it was the Baronet who 
 opened. 
 
 "You are come pretty smart on your errand, Mr. 
 Merivale," he said bluntly, his fury showing for all his 
 care. " It would have been more decent had you kept 
 away." 
 
 " What ! " said Godfrey, gaping without understanding. 
 
 " I say you would have shown more decency if you had 
 not intruded," pursued Hubert, breaking further from the 
 bonds of his restraint. " Look, Roland, what brings this 
 man here, I ask? " 
 
 " Heavens ! sir, I have come to tell Mr. Merivale that 
 I'm sorry his son is dead," said Godfrey, stung by his 
 ancient foe and this incredible treatment. 
 
 " Sorry ! " said Hubert, sneering, " the Lord deliver me 
 from such hypocrisies ! Roland, will he fool you ? Good 
 Lord ! isn't it plain ? What does he here ? I know the 
 fellow well," cried Hubert, carried by his arrogant wrath 
 beyond the margins of his good sense. " He is a pest. 
 Here's poor Jack dead, and down he comes to step into 
 his shoes. It is indecent!" he repeated stormily. "What's 
 his sympathy worth in the circumstances ? " 
 
 "You are drunk, sir," said Godfrey, as hot as himself; 
 but Roland stood eyeing both, his old mind dividing this 
 way and that. "What is it you mean?" shouted Godfrey, 
 shooting fire in the proper Merivale fashion. 
 
 " You suppose your fingers are already on the title, eh? " 
 sneered Hubert, with an angry grin. "They itch for it. 
 But I will be damned if they are 1"
 
 222 GODFREY MERIVALE 
 
 "Title ! " said Godfrey, gaping at him. 
 
 "Lord, how innocent he looks!" said Hubert to his 
 cousin the banker, and laughed harshly. 
 
 "You knew you were left heir by this?" came from 
 Roland's withered lips, dry and flat in tone. 
 
 " The heir!" Godfrey repeated. " I never knew. Good 
 heavens! no I never thought ..." and was struck dumb. 
 
 Hubert's answer was a shrug of his shoulders, which 
 turned the balance in Roland's mind. 
 
 "You'd better go," he said, in an expressionless voice. 
 " I think it would be better you went." 
 
 "What you have said is a surprise," said Godfrey, 
 controlling his voice. " I have never examined into the 
 family pedigree for the last ten years, but if I had known 
 I would have come all the same, Sir Hubert Merivale," 
 said he, with the emphasis of speech that ebbs drop 
 by drop. 
 
 With that he went, his spirit at a pitch of heat and 
 wonder, and the tumult of youth in his blood. He walked 
 to the river, almost unaware of his actions, and there met a 
 steamboat, which carried him downstream like driftwood. 
 Isleworth, the old bridge of Kew, the red roofs and jutting 
 windows of that venerable riverine village, Strand-on- 
 the-Green, the long bend of old Chiswick and the Mall 
 these went by unnoticed. His eyes had turned inwards, 
 where his mind was revolving among new thoughts and 
 strange. At Battersea Park he went ashore, and began 
 to walk. The day was in July, the afternoon was merging 
 into evening, but the glory of the light was still in the 
 sky. He strode through Chelsea towards the centre of 
 the town. He had spoken truly when he had stated his 
 ignorance of his position in the Merivale line. Edward 
 and Raymond and Jack as well have a score of 
 lives between one and a title as those three healthy 
 animals in youth and prime. But it was to appear that 
 others were not so ignorant. The carriages were still
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE 223 
 
 rolling round the park when he entered it, and sat down 
 to cool himself in the breath of the trees. As he medi- 
 tated his name was called, and, looking- up, he saw Laura 
 in the victoria which had stopped in front of him. 
 
 "How do you do, Mrs. Strahan?" he said, when he 
 had gone forward. 
 
 She answered lightly, and then said, " I understand 
 I am to congratulate you." 
 
 He felt the guilty colour in his face. "Indeed?" he 
 said. 
 
 "Aren't you an heir now or something?" she asked 
 gaily. 
 
 "Not that I am aware of," he answered with non- 
 chalance. "Mr. Roland Merivale is heir presumptive 
 to Sir Hubert Merivale." 
 
 "Oh, but he doesn't count. He's very old," cried 
 Laura. 
 
 " Yes, he's old," assented Godfrey. 
 
 " He doesn't count," said Laura emphatically ; and 
 after a pause added reproachfully, "You've never been to 
 see me." 
 
 " Was I asked ? " he said, smiling. 
 
 She made a little grimace ; and it was wonderful how 
 confidence had grown in her. 
 
 "You did not need to be asked such an old friend," 
 said Mrs. Strahan. 
 
 "Yes, I am an old friend, am I not?" said Godfrey, 
 and took the liberty of an old friend to inquire after 
 the health of her husband and family. Laura answered 
 him placidly, but examined him out of the corners of her 
 eyes. She patted a pet dog in the carriage. "You will 
 come, then ? " she asked sweetly. 
 
 He protested his anxiety to come, and the victoria 
 moved away. As he walked to his chambers in the cool 
 air of evening Godfrey passed into a chuckle, which 
 appeared to be the external sign of some satisfaction.
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 THE world which concerned itself with such affairs 
 was very shortly awakened to the change in the 
 prospects of Godfrey Merivale. It was not only Laura 
 Strahan who studied "Baronetages" and gossiped of 
 them. Red-books and Debretts travelled in many 
 broughams plying in Mayfair, Belgravia, and Bayswater ; 
 and the Heywoods were soon aware of that new face 
 which destiny wore. Their manner was admirable, but 
 marked a noticeable difference. Mabel's attitude was 
 more gracious, Heywood himself purred more softly, and 
 Ethel stared curiously. Apart from Heywood's cere- 
 monious acknowledgment of his secretary's new position, 
 there was only Mrs. Heywood in that house to embarrass 
 him by an open reference to it. 
 
 "We must congratulate you on your good fortune," 
 said the M.P. ; and, adding some pleasant compliment to 
 the talents and character he had detected, proceeded 
 smoothly to work. 
 
 With Mrs. Heywood it was otherwise. Equally gracious 
 she was more lengthy, and showed her teeth in a con- 
 tinuous smile. She had known one of the Merivales when 
 a girl, and had thought her clever. " But I suppose you 
 are all that, Mr. Merivale. There's your cousin, Sir 
 Hubert, of course. It's a very old title. I've never seen 
 Pontrack, but my father stayed there once," and then, 
 remembering that after all Sir Hubert was Sir Hubert, 
 and Godfrey was not yet in the saddle, she added with 
 a touch of patronage, "And I daresay this experience 
 
 224
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE 225 
 
 will come in useful to you some day." The experience, 
 of course, came from the privilege he enjoyed in being 
 secretary to so prominent a party politician. 
 
 The rising of Parliament, however, released Godfrey 
 presently from the circle of the Heywoods, and he did 
 not see England again for two months. Upon his return 
 he took up the work of life with a certain alacrity, derived 
 he knew not whence. He had wearied of the alien 
 pleasures of the continent, and came back to plain fare 
 with insular satisfaction. Above all, he was struck in 
 the streets of London by the air and beauty of the women. 
 It was not that abroad other women had not attractions, 
 and might not set themselves up against his country- 
 women ; it was only that these were his countrywomen, 
 affine to him, a creditable type, developed under savage 
 skies, by rude fogs, and through a common history. The 
 very delicate flesh which answered sharply to their varying 
 emotions was a product of mild rains, mild suns, and 
 sheltering gloom. They walked not with the mincing 
 shuffle of Paris, with the short swing of the broad hips, 
 with the challenging muliebrity, but with long lines, 
 bold, careless, and healthy. It was good to be back in 
 England. 
 
 He met Ethel, who was free of her cage now, and 
 essaying flights in London, with these sentiments fresh 
 in his heart. Mabel was dazzling a house-party in the 
 north, and tricking herself before the wondering eyes 
 of her admirers. "There was no one," said one of that 
 circle, "who could so nearly shave the garrison-hack 
 as Mabel Hey wood," but then he thoughtfully added, 
 "Of course, a garrison-hack with two hundred thousand." 
 
 Ethel, who had acquired the ease of both her sisters, 
 and had added to it fresh impudence of her own, showed 
 her frank interest in Godfrey. He was handsome enough, 
 in her eyes, as he had been in Ellice's, and he might be 
 heir to a large fortune and a title. He was, therefore, 
 Q
 
 226 GODFREY MERIVALE 
 
 worth many arch eyes and friendly smiles. Ethel, not- 
 withstanding, was in the position of the young heir who 
 is resolved to partake of life before he settles into a good 
 citizen. Godfrey Merivale was one of many, and as one 
 was acceptable enough. The only point in his favour, 
 and against the others, was that he was more accessible, 
 and strayed into her company more frequently. This 
 juxtaposition developed an intimacy, as it had done with 
 Ellice before her. Godfrey, in his new mood, was stirred 
 to pleasure in the society of this pretty girl, and simul- 
 taneously recognised her feminine vices. She was selfish, 
 she was arrogant, and he held her to be as vain and cold 
 as Mabel. But she drew his eyes, as a young creature 
 of superb promise. Undoubtedly she was destined for an 
 earl or a marquis. While these considerations occupied 
 him in the domestic world of the Heywoods, he was 
 interested to notice the evolution of Laura. He had 
 paid his promised visit, and was admitted to be witness 
 of a vast change in her nature. The financier had altered 
 but little ; he spoke still in s. d., was indulgent and 
 friendly, and carried his own way. The coarse and 
 pleasant animal shone out of his mottled face. He gave 
 Godfrey some "tips," and discovered to him, over good 
 wine, an ambition to get into Parliament. He was frankly 
 egoistic. "I'm as good as any two of those pompous 
 fellows like your Heywood," he declared. " I may not 
 have so much money, but I'm going to. See if I don't." 
 Godfrey, regarding him, felt sure that he would. 
 Tenacity, and a knowledge of his own mind, were visible 
 in every act and every mental attitude. He talked of his 
 " deals," and incidentally Godfrey learned with how many 
 persons of title he was familiar. Yet he thought he 
 detected in Strahan's voice and air no real appreciation 
 of the noblemen in question, but only a satisfaction that 
 he had been able to buy their acquaintance or intimacy 
 with his money. It was a mark of his power, a tribute
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE 227 
 
 to his success, oil to his vanity. Godfrey felt sure that 
 he would have explained these matters to any casual 
 acquaintance in similar circumstances, that is to say, if 
 the right wine had released his personality from its silent 
 prison. 
 
 But Laura had grown vastly more gracious, vastly 
 more mannered, and had a far greater objective outlook 
 than before. She was now not a woman hinged on her 
 own unconscious wants and wishes, but seemed to be 
 rather too self-conscious not to be considerate of others, 
 seemed to suppress herself, to draw out her friends, and 
 to walk in the world like a fine lady. Godfrey asked 
 himself if this were a genuine face, or if it did not mask 
 some pretence. But the next moment he confessed that 
 he did not care two pins what might be the interpreta- 
 tion of her conduct she was handsome ; she breathed a 
 facile beauty, the beauty of health and brightness. Here 
 again he was commended to his English type. She was 
 English-fair (there is no definite word for the type), and 
 she dressed with confident taste. He visited the house a 
 good deal. 
 
 His astonishment was great when early in November 
 he received a letter from Roland Merivale. The hand, 
 slanting, broken and round, told him what he had read also 
 in the face of the banker when he saw him at Richmond. 
 Old age had taken possession of a sudden ; had broken 
 in precipitately, and sat down upon the furniture of mind 
 and body like a dreaded broker. Weariness looked out 
 of Roland's eyes, weariness and a lack of realisation. 
 The orderliness of his long life was still the characteristic 
 which showed at first glance the form in which his nature 
 had been cast. 
 
 "I'm glad you came," said he simply, and referred in 
 no way to their last meeting. " I have had further details 
 about my son's death," he said presently; "the War 
 Office have been very good ; and I also had a letter from
 
 228 GODFREY MERIVALE 
 
 a friend in the regiment. He was killed on the top of a 
 hill." 
 
 He looked at Godfrey as if inviting 1 his interest in this 
 curious fact, and the younger man ventured once more 
 into an expression of sympathy. 
 
 "Yes," said old Roland dispassionately, "I'm much 
 disappointed about my son. He was a good lad. Would 
 you like to see his portrait? " 
 
 Godfrey expressed a desire to do so, and was conducted 
 upstairs to Roland's bedroom, a chamber bare in its ap- 
 pointments and almost ascetic in its formality. Its windows 
 looked upon the wan waters of the cold Thames, now 
 shrouding in November mist. Roland turned up the light. 
 "It's not a bad picture," he said. "It's by my friend 
 
 ." He gave the name of an Academician. "Of 
 
 course Jack was older when he was killed. It's not 
 exactly a Vandyck, you know." He glanced anxiously 
 at Godfrey as if to assure him that he was not under 
 any delusion as to the value of the picture. 
 
 Godfrey declared the likeness to be excellent. 
 
 "Oh, it's very good, it's quite good," said the con- 
 noisseur, surveying it critically. 
 
 It touched Godfrey that this painted image of the dead 
 youth, brisk, smiling, and confident in his early manhood, 
 should hang thus before the eyes of his father as he woke 
 each day or fell into sleep each night. The light sparkled 
 on the boyish countenance ; he could recall Jack's roguish 
 innocence and delight in life. 
 
 "It's a pity the wrong people go," he was moved to say. 
 
 Old Roland deliberated. " Yes," he assented, and then 
 turned to face his guest. " Do you know why my cousin 
 Hubert dislikes you? " he asked. 
 
 Godfrey shook his head. " I was not aware that I was 
 of sufficient importance," he began, with faint irony, but 
 the banker paid him no attention. 
 
 " He's obstinate and wilful, but I've never denied he 
 was clever," he continued. " He's very obstinate."
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE 229 
 
 He had the effect upon Godfrey of one who " doddered," 
 as he phrased it to himself; he rambled on without seeming 
 to reach any definite point, or to be upon any certain 
 course. Godfrey wondered why he had been invited, but 
 presently the reason peered out of the conversation, 
 abruptly and even anxiously. 
 
 "Mind you, I leave all my money to the title, Mr. 
 Godfrey." 
 
 Here, then, was the motive ; but ere Godfrey could more 
 than catch his breath at the surprise, and the inferences 
 involved in this intimation, the old man continued, his 
 shrewd wits awaking. 
 
 "Of course Hubert may have an heir. Don't count 
 your chickens ahead. It's quite on the cards that Hubert 
 may have an heir direct, in which case all my money 
 goes to him. I leave to the Merivales, sir, to the ruling 
 line." 
 
 "Sir," said Godfrey, "he may have a dozen for all I 
 care. I seek no man's money and no title. I wish your 
 son were alive. He was my friend." 
 
 The banker's eyes wandered away ; the business habit, 
 returned for so brief a time, had gone. " I am sorry he is 
 dead," he said softly, and "you will excuse an old man," 
 he added, holding out his hand in sign of farewell. 
 
 The news of Roland Merivale's death, which happened 
 that same month, noticeably increased the friendliness of 
 the Heywoods. He was now definitely heir presumptive, 
 and his chances of succession would have ranked high in 
 actuarial tables. Ethel, impudent in her social successes, 
 was frankest in her remarks. 
 
 " Your cousin died of heart failure, the papers say," she 
 observed, and laughed in scorn. "Why don't they say 
 stoppage of breath ? What did he die of? " Godfrey did 
 not know. " And so you will have forty thousand pounds 
 a year?" she pursued. "Why on earth do you stay 
 here?"
 
 230 GODFREY MERIVALE 
 
 Godfrey replied mildly that man must live, and that he 
 was an adventurer seeking a competence. But Ethel was 
 not moved by such gentle irony. She appeared to believe 
 that he should at least be in receipt of a goodly income, 
 owing to his expectations. 
 
 " Of course," she said, as so many others had said and 
 were saying, " Sir Hubert may still have an heir." 
 
 Godfrey with demure dropped eyes assented, and, 
 conscious suddenly of an error, the girl coloured, and 
 went out laughing. 
 
 The news was important enough to reach the ears of 
 Lady Marvel, who was good enough to say that she had 
 always thought well of Mr. Merivale. In point of fact, as 
 we know, she had admired his looks. In his new clothes 
 he slid imperceptibly into the position of a guest at 
 several entertainments. It was his " hobby " to remain a 
 political secretary, but he was heir to Sir Hubert Merivale. 
 The explanation was easy, and came pat off Miss Hey wood's 
 tongue. Lady Marvel at dinner bestowed glances on him, 
 and asked him why he was not in mourning. 
 
 " I don't wear mourning," he declared, abashed. 
 
 "Oh, I can understand that," she returned, and in- 
 quired if he were going to Desborough that winter. 
 Surely they were now walking upon a plane in common. 
 Lady Marvel seemed to blossom afresh with each depart- 
 ing month. Her presence was warm and luxurious ; she 
 had the effect of promising, of promising in secret with 
 her eyes, and even with her parted lips. She never failed 
 to make an impression upon the men of her environment. 
 She was rare, and moved like an angel. It appeared as 
 if Godfrey were being drawn softly into the web of social 
 life ; it began to enmesh him, and he was not yet aware 
 how greatly. He was of importance enough even to 
 make an occasional appearance in the gossip columns 
 of the papers. 
 
 It was late in January that Sir Hubert Merivale
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE 231 
 
 descended upon town from his northern castle. He 
 came like his forefathers of old robust, hardy, and 
 tenacious of purpose. Matters required his attention, 
 and there were Roland's affairs to be wound up. Society 
 was dribbling into London for the opening of Parliament, 
 and a few houses were open. Fate had kept Sir Richard 
 Marvel and Cynthia in town, and Sir Hubert accepted 
 an invitation to pass the time. Lady Marvel went about 
 asking, " Who will introduce his heir to him? " For she 
 was aware in what light the baronet regarded Godfrey, 
 having extracted the information from the young man. 
 At the moment poor Godfrey was not only being en- 
 meshed in the social web, but in the toils of beauty ; 
 and so far his defences had not availed in the unequal 
 contest. His breastworks, his entrenchments were vain ; 
 they were stormed, and the enemy pressed home to his 
 heart. Philosophy and Lily were futile. Yet was this 
 hardy Merivale not wholly defeated ; he would not 
 capitulate ; he feigned that the leaguer was not at his 
 gate. Possibly he was not yet quite worth an assault 
 in force. The real struggle had yet to come, and that 
 was when his reinforcements should arrive. The re- 
 inforcements were on the way, as will presently appear. 
 Between the man and the woman the conflict would then 
 lie more equal, and who would conquer? 
 
 There was none to introduce his heir to Hubert, for 
 the Baronet went down with a cold in the outrageous 
 weather. The door shut upon him, leaving him in his 
 dressing-gown, warming himself at the fire and abusing 
 Providence. Roland's affairs were troublesome ; they 
 were interminable ; and he pored over documents, ac- 
 counts, and deeds from gloomy dawn to gloomy night. 
 It was only when the curtains were drawn, the lights lit, 
 and the fire shone on the woodwork and wall, that Sir 
 Hubert felt at all cheerful. Night was a refuge from the 
 day, the dolorous, sobbing, darkling day.
 
 232 GODFREY MERIVALE 
 
 Roland's money, apart from his estate in Surrey and 
 his house at Richmond, which went to different relations, 
 was left to the title. This irritated Sir Hubert. 
 
 " Why the deuce could he not have left it to me? " he 
 asked. " It would have been vastly simpler," and he 
 came upon some notes in his cousin's hand. The name 
 of Godfrey Merivale occurred in them. Hubert uttered 
 an oath. Undoubtedly the man was heir, and Roland's 
 will had recognised that. In the solitude of his chamber 
 he brooded over this with the growing choler of a sick 
 man. It was an unreasonable distaste he had taken for 
 the younger man, and was nourished the more that it was 
 derived from no definite source. Hubert felt the intrusion 
 of a stranger into the circle of the family, and in front 
 of this menace his childlessness made him morose. He 
 had, of course, as Roland had said, made his choice, but 
 that irretrievable fact served not to comfort him. He 
 looked round on his rooms, so lavishly furnished and 
 so richly ordered, and frowned deeply at the silence which 
 lay upon all things like a pall. 
 
 " If Honoria " he said, and, ceasing from the 
 
 thought even in his own mind, pulled down from its shelf 
 a volume of the Baronetage. It fell open at Merivale, for 
 here was a marker. 
 
 " Who the devil has been fiddling with this ? " he asked 
 himself savagely. 
 
 He wondered if it had been Honoria, and bit his lip. 
 Was it indeed Honoria who, under the burden of her 
 shame and diffidence, had crept here not for consolation, 
 but for salt for her raw wounds ? Hubert growled, and 
 threw the volume to the floor. The door simultaneously 
 opened to admit his sister, Lady George, who was staying 
 with him. 
 
 "What's this, Hubert?" asked Lady George. "What! 
 a Peerage? Have you been looking . . . ? " She picked 
 it up and turned the pages. "This young man, Godfrey 
 ..." she began.
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE 233 
 
 " Oh, damn the man ! Can't you shut the door, 
 Violet?" snarled Hubert. 
 
 Lady George obeyed, and came forward again. 
 " Honoria says he's the man whom you introduced to 
 us at the Election that time," she observed, indifferent to 
 his temper. 
 
 "I will trouble you not to discuss these matters with 
 Honoria, behind my back," growled Hubert. 
 
 "My dear Hubert, what nonsense!" said the sensible 
 woman, fixing her frank regard on him. " I shall talk 
 of what interests me. You are like a bear with a sore 
 head." Hubert made no reply. "You will be glad to 
 hear," resumed Lady George, "that the nonsense about 
 Jardine has, I think, been finally knocked out of Aline's 
 head." 
 
 " It was time," said Hubert drily; and called "Come 
 in " to a man-servant that knocked on his door. He 
 took a telegram from the salver. "Better marry her 
 off, right away," he said, ripping open the envelope. 
 Then he let it fall. "Great God!" he cried. 
 
 "What's the matter?" demanded Lady George in 
 alarm. 
 
 " Honoria's dead," he said in a low voice, and handed 
 her the paper. 
 
 Lady George blanched, she read the telegram twice, 
 and then looked up. 
 
 " Poor Honoria ! " she said. 
 
 Sir Hubert stared at the fire in silence ; then he spoke. 
 " Poor Honoria ! " he said slowly. " She never got what 
 she might have out of life. She was too fluttered." 
 
 " She was never a happy woman," agreed his sister. 
 
 "'Quite suddenly,' it says?" asked Sir Hubert, "I 
 did not finish " 
 
 Lady George took the telegram from her lap again 
 and examined it for the third time. " ' Quite suddenly,' " 
 she read mechanically. "Doctor suspects death was due
 
 234 GODFREY MERIVALE 
 
 to clot. Writing fully. . . .' Olive sent it," she added 
 unnecessarily, as Mrs. Edworth's name followed. 
 
 " I could never have imagined it. Poor Honoria ! " 
 said Hubert slowly, and he encountered his sister's eyes. 
 Nothing passed between them, not even a shaft of light ; 
 both were quiet, continent, and even hard. Yet it was 
 some moments ere Hubert dropped his gaze. 
 
 "I will get dressed," said he, "if you will kindly ring 
 for Smithers." 
 
 Lady George protested. "You ought not to be up 
 as it is," she said. "The doctor forbids you to go out 
 of one temperature." 
 
 " Damn the doctor!" said Hubert, and himself rose and 
 rang. " I can't afford to be in bed there's too much 
 to do. First Roland and now poor ... I wish you 
 would hurry Smithers, Violet," he ended impatiently. 
 " I have a devil of a lot to do." 
 
 The death of Lady Merivale startled others than Lady 
 George and the husband. The news exploded like a 
 shell in the Heywood household, and Godfrey had never 
 more admired the member's cleverness. Mrs. Heywood 
 was frankly upset, but to Mr. Heywood it was only the 
 occasion for a pretty speech, which informed his secretary 
 that he saw with great regret the death of his relative. 
 The regret undoubtedly was sincere, perhaps even more 
 sincere than was Godfrey's, who only recalled to mind 
 some conversation with a kindly nervous woman at 
 Pontrack some years since. It amused him to notice 
 the lapse in his position and importance. Without undue 
 haste he was dropped unobtrusively out of invitations. 
 Lady Marvel stated openly that his day was over, for 
 she knew Sir Hubert Merivale. There was even a small 
 bet between her and her friend Lady Bramley as to the 
 approximate date of the direct heir's arrival. In the 
 midst of their speculations a paragraph announced in 
 the papers that Sir Hubert Merivale was confined to his 
 house by a chill.
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE 235 
 
 This chill looms largely in Godfrey's destiny, for, indeed, 
 what the papers termed a chill the doctors called a re- 
 lapse a word more significant, more ominous. Sir 
 Hubert, obstinate and angry, was forced to his bed, not 
 by peremptory orders so much as by actual weakness. 
 His doctor spoke of folly, and came twice a day. The 
 Fates, you see, were grinning ironically at the bedside. 
 With his distemper grew his private malice, and his pulse 
 raged together with his mind. 
 
 "Take that damned woman away!" he cried of the 
 nurse they brought him, as once Godfrey had feared that 
 his father, another Merivale, would cry. 
 
 Honoria lay in her vault at Pontrack, and three weeks 
 mark a long time in the sentiments of a Merivale. To 
 his sister, Violet, Hubert talked angrily and without 
 concealment. 
 
 " I will be damned if Graham shall keep me here! 
 What ! Does he think I'm a fool, and don't know how 
 to take care of myself? I know I'm all right. He is a 
 pessimist, with his scares and black looks. Danger ! Of 
 course there's danger, if a man plays the fool." And 
 presently, when the doctor had expressed the doubts he 
 had held back for some time, " He is a fool, Violet, a 
 muddle-headed ass. Get me another. Does he think I'm 
 going to lie here and die, obediently ? The ass, the ass ! " 
 And next, through the apertures of fever, the active mind 
 broke into fury. " That man shall not ... by Heaven, 
 he shan't ... I will rise and marry a barmaid sooner, 
 by God I will ! " and so saying he raised himself and got 
 out of bed, the old, coarse, berserker Merivale alive and 
 instinct. " I shall yet dandle my own kids, Violet," he 
 laughed, and was with difficulty stopped and persuaded 
 to return. 
 
 "I will marry the barmaid. I am yet capable. Find 
 some girl for me. I will have someone," he promised 
 himself ere he fell asleep in the clutches of the fever.
 
 236 GODFREY MERIVALE 
 
 But the fever abated, and the hard man's eyes cleared. 
 He faced his sister with indifference. His solicitor came 
 at his bidding. 
 
 "Does Graham say I'm dying?" he asked, and the 
 solicitor stammered an affirmative. "Very well," as- 
 sented Sir Hubert. " It's hard lines ending in the middle. 
 If I'd got through I would have married again," he said. 
 " But I'll give the man his chance. After all, he has had 
 the decency not to inquire after me. Let him have a turn. 
 He's a Merivale," and he dictated to his lawyer. 
 
 Had Godfrey realised what jest Destiny was cracking 
 he would have been more amused than he showed himself 
 by Miss Ethel's impertinence at lunch. The Heywoods 
 were leaving for the Riviera for a brief holiday, and upon 
 the eve of their migration excitement and bustle were 
 evident. Mrs. Heywood once again used him as an 
 upper servant, and thanked him with a pleasant smile, 
 and Ethel was openly rude. 
 
 " We shall leave you on board wages," she said, laugh- 
 ing, and was sharply brought up by Mabel. 
 
 "And may I have a little beer?" asked Godfrey, 
 smiling, and between his smile and her sister's frown 
 Ethel coloured. 
 
 But later in the afternoon, as the darkness closed in 
 upon the metropolis, Godfrey sat with his employer, who 
 was indicating the main lines of a speech which he 
 desired to make. "There was that luncheon to-day," he 
 said ; " I wonder if the Prime Minister said anything. I 
 think we might have an evening paper, Mr. Merivale." 
 
 The servant brought in from the streets a damp sheet, 
 which Godfrey opened. He turned it about, looking for 
 the account of the luncheon, and suddenly he started and 
 uttered,an exclamation. Mr. Heywood did not notice, and 
 Godfrey at last found the news of which he was in search. 
 Mr. Heywood continued his dictation, and they discussed 
 some doubtful points.
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE 237 
 
 "I think I'll take that in, Mr. Merivale," said the 
 member, pondering. "Will you let me have that paper 
 for a moment ? " 
 
 For a perceptible point of time Godfrey hesitated ; then 
 he pushed the paper towards his employer, who took it, 
 and turned it about, as his secretary had done. " It's 
 not a very full account," he said. " Perhaps to-morrow's 
 
 papers " And here he stopped suddenly, started, 
 
 as Godfrey had started, and turned a broad smile on the 
 younger man. 
 
 " I suppose I'm the first to congratulate you, Sir 
 Godfrey ? " he said in his suave voice. Somehow Godfrey 
 could only grin back at him ; his blood was racing now ; 
 the dam of his will was broken.
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 THE prospect of the title had lain before Sir Godfrey's 
 eyes for some months, yet had had little significance. 
 The fact startled him, and for three days at least kept him 
 in a continuous intoxication of spirit. The Heywoods, 
 in whose pulses he could almost have felt their intestine 
 excitement, had gone to Nice, and he was busily engaged 
 presently in picking up the threads of his new life. Here 
 ended a long lap in the race, and another, strange, full 
 of promise, and as yet unrealised, opened out before him. 
 To deny that he was disturbed by his situation would 
 be folly. Indeed, he began to threaten to undergo 
 changes he had not suspected or feared. The mould 
 in which he had been cast by the action of nine years 
 in London showed signs of breaking up. Underneath the 
 form and manner of his adult worldliness stirred and 
 awoke the real Godfrey, adult also, and the more instant 
 and hungry for his long suppression. He threw off 
 some of the conventions which had chained him with 
 a laugh ; the giant was moving, feeling its feet, and 
 looking curiously upon its bonds and fetters. Crowned 
 with his tolerant cynicism a fortnight since he would have 
 smiled at the idea of any change in himself. To succeed 
 to a baronetcy and ,50,000 a year would matter nothing 
 to him ; he would go on with his life, but it would be 
 more amusing that was all. Yet he was growing un- 
 consciously before his own eyes. Lily was gone, and 
 gone in part were those standards which had excused 
 her. For, with his mental vision involuntarily upon 
 
 238
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE 239 
 
 Lady Marvel, he made comparisons and found distinctions. 
 The philosopher in him some time back would have cried 
 out that there was the difference only of taste, perhaps 
 even of opportunity, and of nothing" more. It must be 
 remembered that the beleag-uerment was still in progress, 
 but the besieged now had his full forces. He turned his 
 thoughts upon the encounter with pleasure ; he realised 
 what such women were, even when they were so hand- 
 some, and, realising, the meshes of the web seemed not 
 so close, and to lie there even more enchanting. It 
 took him three months to get into his part, and even 
 then the mask which had disguised him for so long 
 remained ; it was only within that nature had at last 
 broken out. Somehow the blood of the dominant race 
 asserted itself; he walked and talked, a blend of 
 Merivale and of something that was not understood 
 by other Merivales. It might indeed in some aspects 
 have been Hubert that smiled so hardly and came so 
 practically to the point. He was surrounded by women ; 
 they trooped upon him, and his task was tedious, in- 
 sufferable. 
 
 " I would resign fifty thousand a year to escape 
 it," he wrote to Ellice ; " no, on second thoughts, the 
 title only." 
 
 This was not true ; he would at that moment have re- 
 signed nothing ; he clung tenaciously and affectionately to 
 his place and possessions. His letter to Mrs. Ormerod was 
 in answer to a laconic telegram "Congratulate you " 
 which arrived from Egypt. But there was justice in his 
 complaint. Hubert, true to his last thoughts, had put 
 no difficulties in his way, and what with Roland's money 
 and the estate he found that his income was larger than 
 any previous Merivale's had been. The Merivales, who 
 for one hundred and fifty years married heiresses con- 
 tentedly, must have turned in their vault at this amazing 
 irony. Lottie's child, the child of misplaced affection,
 
 240 GODFREY MERIVALE 
 
 of love in a cottage, reigned now in their stead in 
 splendour. That splendour drew upon him the women. 
 There was Lady George, who made no pretence of tears, 
 was frankly cheerful and friendly ; there was her sister, 
 the rector's wife, who " closed poor dear Honoria's 
 eyes," and loved her jest, hugged her sentimentalism, 
 and kept her eyes sharply open all in one moment. 
 There were cousins of different degrees behind them, 
 and behind them again stood the gaunt form of Lady 
 Hayling. The Countess of Hayling had learned with 
 amazement of the existence of Godfrey, and prepared 
 to swallow him with alacrity, yet with due regard to 
 her unique dignity in the family. She was over sixty, 
 had daughters and granddaughters, and had married her 
 son, the present Earl, to her own satisfaction. She was 
 ready to do the same for Sir Godfrey, tenth baronet. Her 
 respectability was only equalled by her hauteur, and her 
 candour matched her assurance. She was a devoted 
 adherent of the High Anglican party, and had little more 
 feeling for Evangelicals than for Nonconformists. She 
 moved about in a mental world blocked and impeded by 
 conventions, from conventions of Church and politics to 
 conventions of dress and dinner. Outside these no 
 honest or reputable member of Society lived, unless, 
 of course, he or she happened to find excuse for 
 eccentricity in an aristocratic position. Then they were 
 tolerated, indulged as wayward children, who would 
 come back to reason in time. If they did not, well, 
 after all, were they not "of us," and in their errors to 
 be considered more even than they who lived perfect 
 lives of convention in a somewhat less exalted sphere? 
 "Our class" was Lady Hayling's pet phrase, and "We 
 must set an example," or "We can't afford to do that 
 sort of thing." You will perceive how heavily obligations 
 lay upon this member of the nobility, and you must judge 
 from that how high are the ideals which actuate our
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE 241 
 
 peerage. Lady Hayling was brusque in her manner, 
 spoke her mind, and never wavered in her opinions. She 
 had the family practicality and more than the family 
 coldness, if very much less than the family share of 
 humour. She was, in fine, the product of British nine- 
 teenth-century life, the finished article of the Victorian 
 period, that breed of woman which is unknown outside 
 these islands, and is feared and respected within them. 
 
 There is no snob so perfect as the noble snob. The 
 Countess of Hayling's attitude to social life was embodied 
 in her approbation "she is such a lady," which was the 
 high praise she bestowed upon a great dame of her time. 
 The stamp of her approval was necessary to her family ; 
 they sought it from long custom, and stooped under her 
 yoke because she was too important to quarrel with, and 
 too persistent to deceive. Hubert had laughed at her 
 commands, but then Hubert had been the head of the 
 house, and even Hubert had respected her claim to be 
 a great lady. This formidable person it was who sent 
 for Godfrey shortly after his succession. 
 
 " You'd better bring him to me," she said to Lady 
 George ; " I can't understand why he hasn't been already. 
 But I suppose there is plenty to do in settling the affairs 
 of the estates." 
 
 Lady George had in her mind a picture of Sir Godfrey, 
 pleasant and talkative, idling over the arrangement of 
 some flowers for her, and smiled over her handsome face. 
 
 "I daresay he finds plenty to do," she said, "but I'll 
 take him your message. He's really not at all bad. 
 I liked him when I saw him at Pontrack that time " ; and 
 she went on her mission with some little pity for the fate 
 in store for this pliable young man. 
 
 " I have heard of the Countess of Hayling," said 
 Godfrey amiably. " In fact, I think I've seen her. There 
 was a friend of mine in old days, who, I think, said he 
 had guyed her." 
 R
 
 242 GODFREY MERIVALE 
 
 "Guyed her!" echoed back Lady George in astonish- 
 ment. 
 
 "Yes," said Godfrey lightly. " I'm sure I don't know 
 what he did, for I didn't read it. But I daresay he did it 
 well. He could be very rude. He was a reporter named 
 Flack ; I must bring him to you some day, if I may." 
 
 Lady George stared at him, and then went off into 
 laughter. She was not used to this kind of man, and did 
 not quite understand him. But by this time, you will 
 see, Sir Godfrey was beginning to understand himself, as 
 well as to shape his behaviour. His pedestal suited him 
 very admirably, and was comfortable to a degree, except 
 for the stream of relations. That alteration which he 
 had not anticipated had indeed taken place, but it made 
 rather for strength than weakness. Organical life cannot 
 remain motionless, and change at thirty is but evolution, 
 in this case evolution precipitated by a revolution. The 
 real person was at liberty to show himself through the 
 silk gloves and smiles, if he so desired. The only question 
 was as to Godfrey's desire. He toyed with the pleasure 
 of knowing what he could do, and as yet did nothing. 
 After all, there is a vast amount of enjoyment in life 
 possible at thirty, particularly when one has money. 
 Godfrey did not desire to forego the enjoyment, and he 
 promised himself an inexpensive amusement in his visit 
 to Lady Hayling, but one nevertheless which he had 
 bought with his new title and riches. 
 
 The Countess, austerely benignant, sat enthroned as 
 the Empress of the Merivales, and beheld advancing to 
 her in the fresh sunlight a tall young man of slender body 
 and bright eyes, which spoke in advance of his voice. 
 Flushed from her victory over the reluctant sister of Ray- 
 mond and Edward whom she had pressed into the 
 honourable bonds of marriage, the Countess regarded 
 this new subject. His face was witness to his sweet 
 nature, and Lady Hayling preferred to handle sweet
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE 243 
 
 natures. She had grown sore at times in bending the 
 stubborn wills of tough Merivales. But here surely was 
 something different, acknowledged in the air of friendli- 
 ness, in the ease of greeting, in the more delicate lines 
 of the features. Moreover, they were not Merivale eyes 
 that looked out at her, but of a tenderer and warmer 
 colour, of a softness that promised no resistance. She 
 graciously indicated a chair near her own, and smiled on 
 him. 
 
 " I had hoped, indeed expected, to see you before, Sir 
 Godfrey," she said, with faint reproach. 
 
 He apologised amiably. "To say the truth, I didn't 
 know that anyone wanted to see me," he said. " Besides, 
 it is only gradually that I am beginning to find out my 
 new relatives. Lady George very kindly told me about 
 you." 
 
 The air was civil, even to deference, but the words had 
 a dubious complexion. At the thought that she had been 
 first advertised to the young man by Violet, and that her 
 existence had been previously unknown to him, Lady 
 Hayling winced. But, after all, the ignorauce of this 
 strange new-comer among them might be pardonable, 
 and his air of deference was irresistible. 
 
 "I believe, Sir Godfrey, you were born in the West," 
 she said, resuming the pleasant air of catechism. 
 
 The catechumen smoothed the nap of his hat with his 
 arm meditatively, as if evoking memories from the past. 
 
 " I was born, I believe, in Cheltenham," he said. 
 
 " A very respectable town," said the Countess, nodding. 
 " There are a good many decent families there, I believe." 
 
 She had condescended to approve Cheltenham, or at 
 least to " pass " it, as the birthplace of a baronet. 
 
 " Are there? " said Godfrey indifferently. 
 
 She was indulgent to him, more tolerant, certainly, than 
 to any living Merivale, which, having regard to his place 
 in the world, was at once natural and creditable.
 
 244 GODFREY MERIVALE 
 
 "Your father " she continued placidly. "What 
 
 was his occupation, if I may ask ? " 
 
 Godfrey moved restlessly. " He was a scholar, so far 
 as he was anything," he returned, looking- out of the 
 window. 
 
 "Ah, indeed! Scholar!" repeated the Countess 
 musingly, and remembered a connection between scholar- 
 ship and divinity. "That is interesting," she pursued. 
 " He was not, of course, in the Church? " 
 
 A note of hope sounded in her question. 
 
 " No," said Godfrey briefly, adding thoughtfully, as 
 if to soften this bluff answer, " I believe he was a pagan 
 of a kind." 
 
 "Pagan!" echoed Lady Hayling, staring out of her me- 
 tallic eyes, and added, "Dear me, how very extraordinary, 
 how very, very unfortunate ! And your mother " 
 
 "My mother, Lady Hayling," said the tenth baronet, 
 turning his soft eyes on her, " my mother's maiden name 
 was Mersey, and she was the daughter of a well-to-do 
 and retired draper." 
 
 The Countess breathed heavily through her nose as she 
 took this information. 
 
 " Indeed ! " she said somewhat icily, and settled down to 
 digest it. There was nothing of the draper in the air 
 of this young man, at least ; his gaze dwelt on her 
 frankly and wandered politely round the room. It re- 
 turned to her again with a query as if it would ask, 
 " Any more questions ? " 
 
 "Dead?" said Lady Hayling bluntly, and had almost 
 added " I hope," for she had caught at that inspiration. 
 
 " The draper is long dead," said Godfrey solemnly. 
 
 Lady Hayling nodded her approval, and dismissed an 
 unpleasant subject. 
 
 "You have been political secretary, I understand, to 
 Mr. Hey wood, M.P.," she said, clutching with relief at 
 respectability again.
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE 245 
 
 Scholar and political secretary had a fine resounding 
 note. 
 
 "I was his private secretary for some two years," 
 assented Godfrey. 
 
 "We shall expect you to go into the House," said 
 Lady Hayling, smiling 1 . "A Merivale has always re- 
 presented Pontrack." 
 
 Godfrey smiled and bowed at the gracious compliment 
 to his headship. 
 
 "And before that you wrote for newspapers, I am 
 told," went on the Countess. Godfrey acquiesced. " I 
 daresay," she said gravely, "that the experience may 
 be of some benefit to you in the House, where one has 
 to deal with all kinds of dreadful people. " 
 
 Godfrey had listened dutifully and restrained himself 
 admirably, but now he was to break loose. 
 
 "I may say also, Lady Hayling," he said with diffi- 
 dence, " that I have written a book. It is not yet 
 published," he hastened to add, "but I should like to 
 know what you think of it. Of course I would not ask 
 you to read it. But I mean about the advisability of 
 publication. One never knows . . . one doesn't under- 
 stand . . . these things are regarded so differently." 
 
 He ended with a delicate gesture of bewilderment, and 
 on a note of interrogation. The Countess saw before her 
 a frank and interested face, and, shrewd as she was, saw 
 no more, unless it was also a new pupil, an obedient and 
 docile liege, swiftly and easily won. 
 
 " What sort of book ? " asked the Countess, beaming. 
 
 He hesitated. " Well, I'm sorry to have to say that it 
 is a sort of ... a kind of verse, as it were." 
 
 "Oh, poetry!" exclaimed Lady Hayling indulgently. 
 " I daresay you might publish it. It's not as if you were 
 doing it for your living, you see." She regarded him 
 sharply. " Of course it's ... I needn't ask if it's 
 respectable verse."
 
 246 GODFREY MERIVALE 
 
 " Oh, I'm told it's rather good," said Godfrey innocently. 
 
 " No, you don't understand," said the Countess primly ; 
 "what I mean is that it's proper; I hope it's quite 
 suitable. There's nothing unbecoming in it, nothing that 
 couldn't be read by young girls ? " 
 
 " Its language is considered chaste," murmured God- 
 frey. 
 
 Lady Hayling considered him ; it may be that some 
 dim shadow of suspicion fell on her mind, but if it were 
 sufficient to divert her from the subject, it was not strong 
 enough to discompose her. She observed generously that 
 Art had made great progress recently, in which it was 
 evident that she referred to the spread of Art in Society. 
 " I have even one of my nieces who paints," she declared 
 in honest avowal. 
 
 Godfrey said he had no doubt that "Art would soon 
 be considered high-toned," and was aware that he drew 
 his kinswoman's eyes. 
 
 " My dear Sir Godfrey," she said, affable but resolute, 
 "you will excuse me one does not like those . . . slang 
 like that, ' high-toned ' ! I think it is our privilege as a 
 class to keep up the purity of the language. One must 
 not forget one's obligations. Noblesse oblige you know 
 the old proverb." 
 
 "The fact is, Lady Hayling," said Godfrey confiden- 
 tially, "the phrase is really American, and we are 
 permitted to use Americanisms in our class, aren't we? 
 But I agree with you. Let us be rigid in our language 
 as in our morals. And while we are on this matter I 
 should like to ask why we aristocrats say ' ain't ' and 
 leave out our 'g's'?" 
 
 The Countess stared. " I m m " she began. 
 
 "It is hardly a question . . ." 
 
 But Sir Godfrey interrupted her laboured speech. 
 
 "Now I think I have the real explanation," he declared 
 triumphantly. "Now tell me if you think my theory is 
 not right. In our caste or station we have a definite
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE 247 
 
 place to fill, with certain rights and certain duties. We 
 stand apart from the middle classes, and I hope in some 
 small way are of service to them, as models or examples 
 of conduct, manner, habit, or opinions. Very well, we 
 occupy a position, then, analogous to that of the priest 
 in the Church. By virtue of his office, what the priest 
 does is right and justified. May we not suppose some- 
 thing of the same sort applicable to us ? What we do is 
 taken under the protective aegis of our position. In other 
 words, who is to be the arbiter of language, or conduct, 
 if not ourselves the body of opinion that is, that we 
 make up? " 
 
 "I hadn't thought of that," said Lady Hayling dubiously, 
 " but I daresay there's something in it. There's a good 
 deal of sense in what you say, particularly in your refer- 
 ence to the Church." 
 
 "Then you see if I am right, Lady Hayling," he said, 
 rising to go. "You see, what I do my position justifies, 
 and I have no doubt you will be good-natured enough to 
 remember that in overlooking my little frailties. A Pope 
 may have started as a very humble man, but his chair 
 sanctifies him." 
 
 The Countess, whose wits were not nimble enough to 
 deal with this sophism, rose with him. She felt that he 
 was a clever young man as well as an amiable. 
 
 " I have seen four baronets of the line," she told him, 
 as if they had been ships. 
 
 " I hope you will see some more," said Godfrey cheer- 
 fully, pressing her hand, and left her in perplexity. 
 
 But Lady Hayling, though puzzled, was hopeful. As 
 she said to her daughter, who was given over to Church 
 work and charity, 
 
 " He is undoubtedly a very well-meaning young man, 
 and I think he is intelligent. But his convictions are not 
 quite settled. That, however, will improve," she added, 
 and there was no doubt as to the means of improvement 
 which she had in her mind.
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 THE tenth baronet had by this time become duly 
 seasoned to his position, and maintained himself 
 in proper balance. With the swing of the scales, he was 
 alternately cynical and enthusiastic, but always returned 
 to equipoise again. Indeed, at thirty, it was not possible 
 to be invariably philosophical, more particularly with the 
 founts of pleasure so close and so facile. They poured 
 forth their invitations, and at night he lay awake often 
 beset with dreams of the future. This was not a man 
 too strenuous ; his spirit was rather delicate and subtle, 
 and he found his most suitable occupation in enjoyment. 
 No doubt had the aspirations of his youth been fostered 
 and grown, he would have been directed into some form 
 of creation. But he came too late to his opportunity, and 
 his nature, forgetful of its ancient wildings, leaned easily 
 to the affairs of the moment. The base of the boy and 
 the youth remained, but the deadening experiences of life 
 and the ^50,000 a year had altered what would have 
 seemed once his obvious destiny. He had longed to be- 
 come a poet. So do many imaginative youths, but they 
 forget and are happy later in some other occupation or 
 hobby. He had longed to revise the world, to eliminate 
 pain. He recognised now that pain was a law of the 
 world, and that the efforts of any human being at re- 
 vision were of necessity futile. He had even lost the 
 desire to edit the universe. What was left to him was 
 the character of mind which had actuated those boyish 
 hopes and ambitions. He loathed cruelty, he liked to 
 read in books, his tastes were eclectic, and he took a 
 delight in his own cynicism. Sometimes his conscience 
 
 248
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE 249 
 
 worked within him, stirring him to realise those faded 
 plans and ideals. Could he rise in his strength of 
 ^50,000 a year and set the world to rights? But upon 
 that ensued sanity, the balance returned, and he smoked 
 his cigarette, and tossed aside his ardours as he tossed 
 aside his burnt matches. No charity applied in vain if 
 it were commendable to him. His income was far too 
 large for him to overtake it, seeing that he had no 
 luxurious habits. His nature was too restless to suffer 
 him to fall into inglorious sleep, but it was also too dis- 
 trustful or too pessimistic to allow him to act. The book 
 which he had never finished lay in his drawers, and it was 
 odd that Rowlands should be the person to recall it to 
 him. He met Rowlands at dinner at the Strahans, and 
 found no change in his placidity, not even a stir of wonder 
 or admiration at the revolution in his friend's destiny. 
 
 " Didn't you say you had written something once? " he 
 asked, while their host was engaged with a young peer 
 who was associated with him in some financial venture. 
 
 " Did I ? " asked Godfrey. " Perhaps I did once." 
 
 " You never published it? " queried the barrister. 
 
 Godfrey smiled. "My dear Rowlands," he said, "I 
 am going to publish it now. Do you know my plan ? I 
 think it good. If I publish it in the usual way it will be 
 read by a score of people who know me, perhaps yourself 
 included. I should make no name by it. But what I 
 shall do is to employ commissionaires week by week to go 
 about the various towns buying copies. I shall have to 
 purchase the whole of the first edition myself, no doubt, 
 but that will force my publisher to issue a second. A 
 volume of verse in a second edition within the month ! 
 The critics will rub their chins thoughtfully, and ask each 
 other if anyone has seen it. No one will have seen it, 
 except some young ladies who review minor verse for the 
 papers. But when I have bought up three-quarters of 
 the second issue, and a third is flourished before the 
 public, the critics will have to see it. Three impressions
 
 250 GODFREY MERIVALE 
 
 in two months, eh ? I shall have to buy half the third, and 
 a quarter of the fourth issue, but after that I think I shall 
 let the public demand develop itself without assistance. 
 For, you see, by that time the public will know what it 
 wants, and will be buying my verses vigorously." 
 
 Rowlands offered the tribute of a chuckle to this per- 
 formance, which, however, he esteemed so lightly that he 
 turned forthwith to another point. 
 
 " I suppose you're going in for Parliament? " for Row- 
 lands was always solid, and went to substantial facts direct. 
 
 "Why should I?" asked Godfrey, who had been 
 worried of late by the importunate Countess on this very 
 topic. " I have not sufficient belief in myself to think 
 that I could do Parliament any good, and I'm quite 
 certain that it could do me no good. Those are the only 
 two reasons I know for becoming a legislator. I don't 
 want money, and I don't want place ; and Parliament 
 certainly does not want me. Voila ! " 
 
 That night he was doomed to questions. A literary 
 career, a public life, were bruited by Rowlands in one ear ; 
 the financier took hold of the other in the interests of 
 finance. Mr. Strahan hovered between "Sir Godfrey" 
 and " Merivale," as if with satisfaction now in noting the 
 title of his guest, and again in emphasising his familiarity. 
 
 " It's a pity," he opened out after dinner and in a 
 friendly fashion "it's a pity you didn't drop into this 
 little bit a trifle earlier, Sir Godfrey. If you'd come into 
 it three months before you did I could have put you on to 
 something very good." 
 
 " Meaning? " questioned Godfrey. 
 
 " I've just concluded a very big thing," said Strahan 
 complacently. " Heaps of money in it. I got Lord 
 Taverner to come in." 
 
 " I see," said Godfrey drily. "It's a pity that you 
 couldn't have put me in when I hadii't the money. Then 
 it would have been useful. Now " he made a gesture. 
 
 Strahan was constitutionally unable to understand why
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE 251 
 
 a man who had money did not want to make more. He 
 smiled. 
 
 "Oh, well, there's time still," he said. "Things are 
 always cropping up. I get, I suppose, as many as twenty 
 or thirty deals offered me in a week good deals, mind 
 you ; I can't take 'em all up myself, for though I'm pretty 
 comfortable, I'm not the Bank of England. Oh, you 
 could easily double your income in five years. Take my 
 word for that." 
 
 " Good Lord ! "said Godfrey, " I've no desire to do that. 
 I pray Heaven, indeed, that it may never happen." 
 
 Strahan stared in astonishment, inquiring in his mind if 
 this were some form of aristocratic jest. He laughed. 
 
 " Oh, well, we'll see," he observed amiably; " I daresay 
 we'll find you in the swim presently." 
 
 To do him justice it was not Godfrey's money that 
 attracted him ; it was rather a delight in such fine 
 decorations for his drawing-room. He had a handsome 
 wife, and liked considerable people about him. It was 
 always said in the City that "Strahan did make money 
 for his friends," and that "you were not left in the soup 
 as with " certain other speculators and operators in 
 the world of finance. On the whole Godfrey liked him, 
 and even found himself with the amazing thought in his 
 head, that Laura had chosen quite judiciously. Mrs. 
 Strahan had returned to the extreme friendliness of the 
 past, and had the excuse of their long acquaintance. He 
 was pleased to notice that she had the same pretty trick 
 of her eyes, and that it had the same wonderful effect 
 upon him. It recalled boyhood and the thrills and ec- 
 stasies of those wild days. He was frank and cordial 
 with her, and his acquired air of cynicism, the absence of 
 the enthusiasm which had once been so characteristic of 
 him, gave him a new attraction in her eyes. He was 
 certainly frank. 
 
 "Well, I owe you much," said he when, in the dainty 
 way which was Laura's own, she had skirted about their
 
 252 GODFREY MERIVALE 
 
 past relations ; " this much at any rate, my dear Mrs. 
 Strahan, that you introduced me to life. That, I take it, 
 is the most important thing- a woman can do for a man." 
 
 " Do you really think so? " she asked, shining of eye 
 and tremulous of lip. 
 
 " I am your debtor, you see, as always," he said lightly, 
 and was witness to the change of colour that rose in her 
 face. This was the Laura of his ecstatic youth, not the 
 woman, as she should be at thirty, sober, mistress of 
 herself, gravid with her maturity. He was drawn and 
 repelled at once by those signals of long-lost emotions. 
 For a moment he could have spoken the truth to her, 
 a truth brutal beyond belief. What had he thought of 
 her that dreary afternoon on which he had reeled out into 
 the wilderness of Kensington ? 
 
 " Even though she saw all Heaven in Flower above, 
 She would not love she would not love." 
 
 Would not? Could not ! How base the abominable truth 
 could seem ! It would strike her like a blow from some 
 cruel and vindictive hand. She had the experience of her 
 matronhood ; she must have tested herself, her heart, and 
 her nature, and she could come back to shy cheeks aflame 
 with . . . what? An encouraged vanity burned in them, 
 neither the delicate kindling 1 of the young girl's love, nor 
 the budding of a full and fragrant passion in the woman. 
 The colour moved and went, in the glow of a conquest, 
 of a hope to conquer, of a possibility of conquering, but 
 under the stimulus of , no desire, no emotion, and no 
 warm human sentiment. From that poor tremulous smile 
 and pink confusion it seemed difficult and even harsh to 
 draw so much and to condemn so terribly. Yet Godfrey 
 was certain of his analysis, and, even while acknow- 
 ledging the truth to himself, took pleasure in the well- 
 remembered face, in that sweet trick of the eyes, 
 unconsciously repeated. 
 
 The regimen of women began to annoy Godfrey ; it 
 grew into the rule of an obsession with the Countess,
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE 253 
 
 Mrs. Edworth, the pale widow of Sir Francis, and their 
 immediate daughters and nieces. Soon, indeed, he became 
 aware that destiny in the petticoats of Lady Hayling was 
 moving her pawns against him. The chief pawn was 
 Aline, whom Godfrey recollected as a pretty girl at the 
 Pontrack election, and now discovered afresh to be Lady 
 George's daughter. Aline was cold and obedient, and 
 did not watch for him with the fervour with which she 
 had challenged the unseen at Pontrack. "Apparently," 
 thought Godfrey, "the match missed fire," and his mind 
 dwelled with suspicion on Lady Hayling. The good 
 sense and friendly humour of Lady George set her in 
 his mind above doubt ; she was good-fellow to him, and 
 they liked each other. Yet beyond question Aline was 
 being moved towards him ; he began to watch the pro- 
 gress with interest. Many things interested him now, 
 more than he had deemed possible, and above all Cynthia, 
 Lady Marvel. 
 
 Lady Marvel's wonderful instinct for the right thing 
 was shown in their first meeting after Godfrey's suc- 
 cession. She talked to him then with an indifferent 
 familiarity, which unconsciously recalled to him the 
 Duchess's ball. As yet he had not any very clear theory 
 of her. He saw her to be confident, to be careless, to 
 be bold to the point of danger, and to move in a cloud 
 of glory, composed of the admiration of the world. But 
 what was the Cynthia within this mask? In setting 
 himself to find out now he had the aid of his fortune 
 and his quick imagination. Problems like this delighted 
 him now more deeply than penning verses or casting up 
 a scheme of philosophy. Lady Marvel was the lode-star 
 of the writers of social paragraphs, and she had already 
 begun to draw Sir Godfrey Merivale like a magnet. 
 He had stopped himself in time, and was deliberating. 
 He thought he knew her sometimes, and vowed to him- 
 self, at any rate, that he would be dragged into no 
 woman's net, however enchanting the process might be.
 
 254 GODFREY MERIVALE 
 
 He had fallen heavily once in the days of his young 
 enthusiasm ; he told himself that now in his cold maturity 
 he was not likely to experience another disaster. So he 
 made his observations, and between them flashed the 
 usual delicate challenges and passadoes of the sexual 
 duel. The man resisted, and, when he thought well, 
 took a holiday, flying to Brighton, to Pontrack, even 
 as far as Egypt, to cool his heart and sharpen his wits. 
 But he had piqued Cynthia Marvel, who had as a rule 
 only to display her charms to secure her victim ; and she 
 set herself with zest and ardour to the chase. Beneath 
 that strong current of vanity, which was like wine in the 
 blood, was heady, and intoxicated her not only with her 
 beauty, but also with the thought of her prominence in 
 the world of fashion, flowed little eddies of sentiment, 
 which had never been of much consequence in her life. 
 She differed from her friend Lady Bramley, who had been 
 savagely described by a caesura, by a pretermitted noun 
 in the speech of one who disliked her " Half a bore," 
 he had said, and paused. Lady Bramley was metallic, 
 lacked every sentiment, and pursued her way hardly and 
 with greedy fingers. But she had neither the intelligence 
 nor the instinct of Cynthia Marvel, and consequently 
 trailed behind her, a bad second, despite her other quali- 
 fying properties. The question for Godfrey was, How 
 far had Lady Marvel any sentiment, and to what depths 
 it penetrated? You will see that this question could 
 only be answered by experiment, by close quarters indeed 
 and minute observation. With diligent eyes and alert 
 senses each drew near the other, and Lady Marvel lost 
 her temper. 
 
 The occasion was a music-party at which both were 
 present, with many others, and among them the girl, 
 Barbara Darling, who has appeared more than once in 
 these pages. Her prettiness was soft and enticing, yet 
 magnificently virginal and tranquil. She represented 
 what we of this country are so proud of claiming as
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE 255 
 
 the natural character of its young- girls, and she repre- 
 sented that fascinating 1 innocence at once with loftiness 
 and suavity. She allured by her obvious detachment 
 from the grossness of life, by her aloofness, by the 
 chastity and simplicity of her mind and manner. It is 
 so that in youth we behold all women, and the imagina- 
 tions and romances of ages have impressed upon us the 
 view. The heroine of our dear affections walks thus 
 sweetly through our dreams, and smiles at us thus en- 
 gagingly out of the pages of fiction. Miss Darling 1 had 
 the air of this heroine, and distilled a sweet fragrance 
 from her presence. If to Godfrey any criticism offered 
 itself, it was that she possibly lacked character, or at 
 least strength of character, but it was his discovery that 
 this was not so that interested him so deeply that even- 
 ing. She talked well, she had ideas, particularly upon 
 literature and music, and she glowed under the influence 
 of the violins. He caught Lady Marvel's contemptuous 
 eyes directed upon them. She showed her teeth across 
 the room in a derisive little smile as their looks engaged. 
 The laugh, as he recognised, thrust sweet-and-twenty 
 into her proper sphere, which was the sphere of toys, 
 of dolls, of sweetmeats, and of babies. But it would 
 have been more fortunate for her if she had not smiled. 
 Her temper, as I have said, gave out after many weeks 
 of combat, and Godfrey paid her with a steady, civil 
 gaze, in which there was neither answer nor challenge. 
 It was not until much later in the evening- that they met. 
 
 Before the house the street was " up," and the long 
 line of carriages flowed clumsily to the doors. Lady 
 Marvel stood in the forefront of the rout awaiting- her 
 brougham. Voices shouted, shrill whistles issued on the 
 still summer night, and through all was audible the roll of 
 wheels and the chatter of the guests. Godfrey, who had 
 driven to the house in a cab, and was to walk back 
 through the pleasant air, saw Lady Marvel suddenly step 
 down to the pavement, with a gesture of impatience, and
 
 256 GODFREY MERIVALE 
 
 begin to walk along the line of carriages. He pushed his 
 way through the crush and followed her. 
 
 "You are looking for your carriage, Lady Marvel?" 
 he said, when he had overtaken her. " Let me help you 
 to find it." 
 
 She made no answer, and they walked on together. 
 Once he caught her glancing at him. She complained of 
 the noise, and stamped her foot. 
 
 "Where in the name of Heaven is Bertram?" she 
 demanded of the night. 
 
 They turned the corner, round which the vehicles rolled 
 slowly. The public-houses had disgorged their traffic, 
 and a party, very merry, caught them up and enveloped 
 them. Under the starlight and the lamplight Godfrey 
 and his companion, with the frown on her face, were clear 
 as silhouettes. 
 
 " Why don't you marry the girl?" cried one reveller, 
 and was approved by laughter. 
 
 " Don't you leave the girl in the lurch, 
 Take "er away right off to church," 
 
 sang out a couple of his friends, and the chorus was taken 
 up and persisted in till they passed out of hearing. Lady 
 Marvel stopped suddenly beside a brougham. 
 
 " Bertram ! " she said sharply, and an anxious footman 
 leaped down from the box and opened the door. Lady 
 Marvel, from her seat within, regarded Godfrey. " Shall 
 I drive you ? " she asked. 
 
 He jumped in, and the carriage, wheeling out of the 
 string, clattered down the road. Their looks met and 
 entangled. In that communion of eyes Godfrey was 
 stirred and emboldened. 
 
 " I would, you know, if it were possible," he said. 
 
 "Would what?" she asked, and, receiving no answer 
 save from his eyes, laughed brusquely. "You promise 
 what you are safe in promising," she said. "It neither 
 is nor would be possible."
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE 257 
 
 " I accept the chastisement," he answered. " I am re- 
 buked for my forwardness. Well, one of us has to be for- 
 ward, or we should never get on at all that's my excuse." 
 
 " Why get on at all ? " she asked languidly. 
 
 "All right," he responded cheerfully. "Let us stay 
 where we are ; the proximity is pleasant nay, more. 
 No," he broke off quickly, with a sharp realisation of 
 her physical presence, " it wouldn't do. I can't stand 
 the proximity. It would fail it couldn't last. To be 
 just this side the verge ! Oh no no, let us get on or go 
 back, if you please." 
 
 " I will stop the carriage and you can get out," she 
 replied swiftly, and put out her fingers towards the cord. 
 Godfrey watched her with interest, indeed with some- 
 thing that surmounted mere interest, but he said nothing ; 
 with a valiant effort he kept silence. Cynthia Marvel's 
 hand lingered on its way, but before his impassivity, 
 pulled the cord with an access of resolution. When the 
 footman came, however, it was Godfrey who spoke. 
 
 " Please go by Grosvenor Street," he said evenly. 
 
 The brougham started again, and Lady Marvel in the 
 small light made an angry gesture ; he felt that she 
 would have struck him across the face. In Grosvenor 
 Street stood his house. 
 
 "You will forgive me, won't you?" he said gently. 
 "I know it was a liberty, but you must remember my 
 plebeian origin. A man who was dragged up like me 
 doesn't handle situations as delicately as he might." 
 
 She lay back in her place without answer, and the 
 carriage flew on. It passed into Grosvenor Street, and 
 glided rapidly before Sir Godfrey's house. It was Lady 
 Marvel who spoke, for he had sunk back into the dark- 
 ness of his corner, after her example. 
 
 "This is your house," she said coldly. 
 
 " I was aware of it," he answered softly, but made no 
 movement to stop the brougham. 
 s
 
 258 GODFREY MERIVALE 
 
 Lady Marvel once more put forth her hand, which 
 moved restlessly ; she let it fall on the cord, and then 
 drew it back, and nestled into her cloak. 
 
 " Will you forgive me? " he whispered. 
 
 "I don't know," said Cynthia bitterly; "you have no 
 manners, but I suppose your origin, as you say, accounts 
 for much." 
 
 Here was bad temper unconcealed and unashamed, the 
 flying ensigns of defeat. She could not say if this man 
 were sincere or insincere, whether he was playing in a 
 jest, or had embarked upon a serious adventure with her. 
 She resented his subtilty, his control, and above all his 
 lightness. By this time she should have had him at her 
 feet, should have used him with negligent patronage, 
 and should have discarded him, perhaps, as dangerous. 
 Lady Marvel had no objection to dangerous men, for 
 she had a beautiful knack of rejection, and she liked the 
 compliment implied in that danger. It would have been 
 possible for her to retire from the contest ; life, after 
 all, is full of interesting people, and one should not waste 
 time in so brief a journey as lies between birth and death. 
 Yet it was not in Cynthia Marvel's nature to abandon 
 the fight ; it was a fight for her vanity, and, tooth and 
 claw, she returned to it. When the carriage drew up 
 before her door, she entered the house, and from the 
 hall looked round at him. 
 
 "Won't you come in?" she said coldly. "I daresay 
 Dick is back." 
 
 He followed her, and overheard her put a question to 
 the servant. 
 
 "Dick's not back," she said across her shoulder, as 
 if challenging him to go. 
 
 " I am not waiting to see Dick," he told her, as the 
 man moved away, and, following closely behind, as she 
 passed up the broad stairway, "Dick grates! Oh, it 
 grates!" he murmured, "I wish to Heaven you knew how 
 it grates ! "
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE 259 
 
 She walked into a room on the first floor, which was 
 faintly lighted by low-burning lamps, and he stood in 
 the doorway, his crush hat in his hand. 
 
 "How else should one speak of a husband?" she 
 asked more lightly. 
 
 "Husband . . . Dick . * . how they grate!" said 
 Godfrey. 
 
 " I fear they must continue to grate," remarked Lady 
 Marvel drily. 
 
 She let the cloak slip from her shoulders and stood 
 patent in her beauty. The act was not lost upon her 
 companion, who was sensibly affected by it. 
 
 " Am I to go or stay? " he asked quickly. 
 
 "You can please yourself," said Cynthia Marvel. "I 
 daresay Dick won't be long." 
 
 "Good God, do you suppose I am waiting for Dick?" 
 he broke out. " Cynthia ! " 
 
 The woman started ever so slightly, and averted her 
 face. 
 
 " He is kept at the House," she said, even as if he 
 had not spoken, and she rang a bell. To the servant 
 who entered she put a question, "Is supper ready?" 
 
 "Yes, my lady." 
 
 She turned to the door. " I find these entertainments 
 invariably make me hungry," she observed casually. 
 " So I always have something waiting. Will you share 
 my greediness, Sir Godfrey? " 
 
 He said that he was famishing, and went after her into 
 a private boudoir, where a table was set daintily with cold 
 viands, wine, and whisky. The whisky he noted at 
 once, as it seemed to mark the fact that a man had been 
 expected. Also, two plates were laid, before one of 
 which he sat down. Lady Marvel may have noticed the 
 direction of his gaze, and interpreted it, for she said 
 
 " Yes. I expected Dick, but as he has not come " 
 
 " I shall always be delighted to take Dick's place," said
 
 260 GODFREY MERIVALE 
 
 Godfrey slowly, and fixed her eye. She averted her head 
 once more with a faint tinge of colour in her cheek. She 
 helped herself to truffled quail, and he followed her 
 example. No servant had accompanied them. On a 
 nod from Cynthia Godfrey opened a bottle of cham- 
 pagne. 
 
 "I know it's iniquitous," she said, "but those people 
 bored me so, and I positively loathe music." 
 
 For an instant the contrast between this frank con- 
 fession and the pretty taste of Barbara Darling" flashed 
 through his mind, but her compelling eyes banished it 
 almost simultaneously. But as chance had it, back 
 danced Barbara into his thoughts the next moment, for 
 said Lady Marvel, lifting her glass 
 
 " I drink to your pretty girl." 
 
 " Mine ? " he said, and pondered. " Is she pretty ? " 
 
 Cynthia Marvel laughed. " Isn't she? Ophelia ! " 
 
 "Her name, I believe, is Barbara," said Godfrey 
 meditatively. 
 
 "Yes, I know. I've seen her about or some of her. 
 It's hard to tell one from the other," said Cynthia, 
 speaking more rapidly. The wine stimulated her, and 
 she ate and talked glibly. 
 
 As Godfrey sat there a glow of unusual pleasure stole 
 through him ; this woman sparkled on him , eyes, lips, 
 and outline, the inconstant gentle bosom, were in accord 
 to enchant him with the picture they composed. They 
 diffused life and seduction in the room, and his pulses 
 throbbed before the manifestation of her muliebrity. This, 
 then, was the signal of his danger, and he remembered 
 it, while still master of himself. She sailed with exulta- 
 tion on the tide of her triumph, discerning that in his 
 manner, if not in his face, which spoke eloquently to her 
 powers. He had been drawn on to speak of her ; he 
 spoke with animation, and about her beauty flew forwards 
 and backwards the shuttle-cock. She listened, her lips
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE 261 
 
 apart, breathing in her satisfaction. The topic was 
 perilous, beset with hazards. Boldness looked from his 
 eyes, and invitation from hers ; her face had mellowed 
 into the face of girlhood, of innocence, accepting adora- 
 tion. 
 
 She shook her head. "You cannot tell," she said 
 softly. " You dare not, you dare not. Men say, but 
 . . . No, it is false." 
 
 "What would it matter?" he urged, very earnestly. 
 "Dare not! Who says dare not? Men say ... of 
 course they say. If the whole of the herd were to say 
 if every creature out of heaven or hell should say . , . 
 yet would I ... Cynthia, I would, indeed ! " 
 
 She trembled ecstatically, and drew back. "Come!" 
 said she, in the light voice of one that is afraid and chides 
 to cover fear. "That goes beyond . . . you have no 
 leave. You must not use that name so . . ." 
 
 She did not finish her sentence, which had taken the 
 form of confusion. He was upon the edge, and nothing 
 could save him ! Surely nothing could save him. Her 
 heart stirred with incommunicable feelings, unknown, un- 
 recognised. She could not have separated one from 
 another, nor said where vanity ended and something else 
 began. The warmth spread from her heart outwards and 
 struck her with rich colour. He did not lift his eyes, 
 or what he said would never have been said. 
 
 "Yes, I fear I am impudent," he said slowly, and with 
 an air of apology. "That, of course, is my origin 
 again. I ought not, and I won't, Lady Marvel." 
 
 It was then that he saw her, and there was no colour now 
 in her face. She was pale, and the breath came swiftly 
 from her moving nostrils. She rose from the table. 
 
 "Yes, I think you have forgotten yourself. I don't 
 know the reason," she said abruptly. " It's quite 
 sufficient that you have. It is late, and I think if you will 
 excuse me "
 
 262 GODFREY MERIVALE 
 
 "I will go at once," said he, and rose. He did not 
 quite know what he had done. He had meant to pluck 
 himself out of danger, but it seemed that he had done 
 something further, or that something more had been 
 included in his action. Her face scarcely contained 
 her fury and mortification, and some inkling of what 
 she suffered was going home to Godfrey's quick and 
 imaginative intelligence. And the mortification was 
 deeper or broader than that of mere vanity, for Cynthia 
 Marvel had moved to strange impulses. He looked at her 
 nervously, and was awkwardly making his farewell when 
 Sir Richard opened the door, carrying with him a cordial 
 complacency. 
 
 " Ha, Merivale ! " said he, "only just got away. We 
 had a late sitting." 
 
 "I have brought Lady Marvel safely home," said 
 Godfrey most suavely, "and I have just eaten a most 
 delectable supper, and now I am going, Marvel." 
 
 "Ha!" said Sir Richard. "We had the old man 
 up to-night in a towering rage. I think your friend 
 Heywood's sulking because he didn't get office in the 
 readjustment. I got off a speech which was quite re- 
 spectable. You're not going yet, eh? Oh, hang it, 
 man, stay and see me eat! I spoke for half an hour." 
 He sat down to the table. "What is there, Cynthia? 
 Oh, I'll have some of that." 
 
 " I fear it is very late," said Godfrey, glancing at Lady 
 Marvel, who would not see him, "but I confess the 
 prospect of hearing of your speech attracts me." 
 
 Lady Marvel's shoulders were shrugged disdainfully. 
 Her back was to him, and he admired the fine sweep of 
 the line. It seemed that Sir Richard wished him to stay. 
 
 "I'll stay for ten minutes," he said, sitting down again. 
 
 Cynthia Marvel went out of the room.
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 I ^ NTERS here once more Aunt Edith, something older 
 i j in looks, but still comely, talkative, and spirited. 
 These pages, indeed, have used her more hardly than did her 
 nephew, for while she has made no appearance here for 
 many chapters, Godfrey was not so silent towards her. 
 Jim still clung to hopes of a fortune, and still battled 
 through financial difficulties for years on end, and Mrs. 
 Fardell, pinched in her means, displayed only a cheerful 
 faith in her infrequent letters to Godfrey. She rejoiced in 
 his success, and pictured him a great man in London, 
 driving the steam-engines which printed big newspapers 
 with the nod of his imperious head. Godfrey had sent 
 assistance wrapped up in the most jocular parcel as soon 
 as their straits were apparent, but Mrs. Fardell never 
 came to town, and Jim worked ever, grumblingly, towards 
 his goal. The tide of a sudden changed, and flowed in 
 slowly, carrying him to a modest competence. He would 
 be able to boast himself an independent man, as he 
 proudly informed his wife, who conveyed the good news 
 in a letter to her nephew. " And as Jim has no near 
 relation, it will be certain that you can reckon on it, 
 Godfrey, in the end, my dear. And so I warn you. And 
 if Jim had any I wouldn't let him. So if you want to look 
 about a bit for a nice young girl, why, you've got a right 
 to do it with your prospects, and high time too." 
 
 This epistle, moving the recipient to a gentle smile 
 and a resurgence of affection, arrived upon the eve of 
 Hubert's death. The "dear soul," as Godfrey called her 
 perusing the letter, was no student of papers, and in no 
 
 263
 
 264 GODFREY MERIVALE 
 
 wise acquainted with his family history. That a Merivale 
 should have died signified nothing" to her, even if she 
 should see the fact advertised ; and consequently she 
 remained in ignorance of the change in the fortunes of 
 her nephew. It was he himself who communicated the 
 news to her at last in a spirit of self-reproach. "The 
 dear creature shall come and visit me," he said, and forth- 
 with sent his invitation. 
 
 The letter fell and exploded in the Fardell circle in the 
 north ; it drew some pages of a scrawled hand from 
 Aunt Edith, including hysterical blessings and wild talk 
 of Providence and "poor Lottie." " If only poor Lottie, 
 your dear mamma, could have seen the day ! " But poor 
 Lottie was some thirty years dead, and her son had never 
 known her. Mrs. Fardell, who was the least self- 
 conscious of women, and the most direct, accepted with 
 every signal of delight the invitation to London ; but 
 Jim and she were on the eve of their annual holiday 
 at Southport, and the visit, as it seemed, must stand 
 over. In August Godfrey was in Scotland, and the 
 following months he spent in southern France, wintering 
 on his riches in pleasant airs and bright sunshine. Sir 
 Richard and Lady Marvel were at Palermo for some 
 time, and subsequently Godfrey travelled in their com- 
 pany to Algiers. It was not until February that he got 
 back to London, after some episodes which had deeply 
 sounded him, and left him with a grave problem. 
 
 The problem was by no means solved when he arrived 
 in town, or even on the way to solution. It had been 
 difficult to be victor ; it was now, as he realised, more 
 difficult to act the part of victor ; victory carried with it 
 such consequences and such dangers, and its flying 
 banners concealed only the ensigns of defeat. On his 
 arrival Lady Hayling's game of chess was resumed in her 
 rude and resolute fashion. She was devoid of diplomacy, 
 and overbore by sheer weight, the influence of eyes, age,
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE 265 
 
 temper, and position. Thus was Aline moved forward 
 again to a convenient square. Lady George was on the 
 whole interested. She had made no fight on behalf of 
 her daughter when the name of Lady Theodora Cullen 
 had been mentioned. 
 
 "It should be either Theodora or Aline," said the 
 dowager. " He has plenty of money, so we needn't bother 
 about that. Theodora is the best in some ways." 
 
 Lady George did not even remind her that Theodora 
 had no Merivale blood, being, as she was, a relative on 
 Lord Hayling's side. 
 
 "She is the sort of girl he ought to marry," pursued 
 the Countess, meditating, " but on the whole I think 
 Aline," and she looked for gratitude from Lady George, 
 as though the deed were already accomplished and the 
 bridegroom won. 
 
 It was understood in the family that Lady Hayling had 
 marked the quarry, and was ordering the hunt, and there 
 was none that dared intervene. Aline herself looked on 
 with indifference, but with obedience. So long as the 
 Countess secured obedience she made no account of those 
 inner wildings of the spirit, perturbations of the bosom, or 
 dreams of rebellion. She cracked the proud heart with 
 her terrors, but it might weep and lock the door at will so 
 long as the tears did not spoil the pretty eyes or sour the 
 soft face. Godfrey became aware of the moving pawn 
 once more, and was glad of the distraction. Sir Richard 
 and Lady Marvel were still abroad, but a rumour, spreading 
 like a blaze of fire across an empty plain, repeated scandal 
 in the ears of town. Events reached out an arm- across 
 Europe, and finally came in whispers to the Countess. 
 She was honestly horrified, but not amazed. 
 
 "People like that," she declared, "are dragging the 
 name of Society into gutters. What are they? I'm sure 
 no one knows who she was." 
 
 Lady George suggested that she was the daughter of a 
 country squire.
 
 266 GODFREY MERIVALE 
 
 "Oh, there are squires and squires," said the dowager 
 scornfully. "Who ever heard of them? It is perfectly 
 disgraceful. " 
 
 Her anger carried her into action, like a three-decker 
 under full sail, and Sir Godfrey was good enough to call 
 upon her at her desire. He was burned with health in the 
 face, had a stalwart look of increasing manhood, and a 
 sharper and more active eye, but he was as gently civil as 
 upon his first sight of the lady. Yet the change in him, 
 or it may well be some aureole of place that he shed, gave 
 pause to Lady Hayling's frontal attack. She shifted her 
 mind, took up fresh posts, and went about the task in 
 another way than she had intended. She inquired about 
 his journeys, and feigned that she had sent for him in the 
 interests of an ecclesiastical charity. 
 
 " Oh, certainly," said he, with some impatience. " You 
 may put my name down, Lady Hayling." 
 
 She spoke of the responsibility of wealth, a fine, exacting 
 phrase that stamps one with a sense of duty. Godfrey 
 agreed with her, and added to his assent that he had no 
 doubt people with 500 a year were better off than such 
 as they. The dowager scented no irony, and was in 
 cordial agreement. She almost sighed to consider how 
 heavily the burden lay upon them. 
 
 " I was luckier in Fleet Street," he pursued, emphasising 
 his sarcasm, but the word was too much for the Countess. 
 
 "Can't you forget that?" she asked, with severity. 
 "Surely you can put that behind you. It is not a 
 thing " 
 
 " If I forget thee, O Jerusalem " he quoted flippantly. 
 
 Lady Hayling frowned, and he went on. 
 
 " I suppose the reason the Jews do not forget Jerusalem 
 is because they would be destined to forget their cunning, 
 according to the psalmist." 
 
 She looked at him sharply. "I hope you didn't get 
 into the hands of the Jews," she said suspiciously. "I 
 hope you didn't anticipate the "
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE 267 
 
 She had the air of one with a sudden fear that he had 
 involved his inheritance in a morass. 
 
 "I've never seen one," he said, with continued flippancy. 
 " But I suppose I shall now that I move in good society." 
 
 " We don't admit them," said the Countess sharply. 
 
 "I'm glad of that," he returned; "we can't expect 
 all society to be so particular. But I wonder you don't, 
 Lady Hayling. I'm sure they would subscribe largely to 
 the ecclesiastical charity." 
 
 But the Countess had got her opening ; her shrewd 
 eyes espied it and she rushed in. 
 
 "There are, Sir Godfrey, different strata of Society," 
 she said, with the solemn air of a schoolmistress. 
 
 "I have found that out," said he, smiling. "There 
 are amusing strata and dull strata, and you take your 
 choice." 
 
 His levity did not affect the Countess ; she ignored it, 
 for she was moving largely to her object, which would 
 be, of course, to involve him in confusion. 
 
 "You are, in a way, it may be said, and without 
 offence, new to this world, Sir Godfrey," said Lady 
 Hayling in her most deliberate manner. 
 
 "I have said I was happier in Fleet Street," put in 
 Godfrey gently. 
 
 "You are, however, shrewd enough to have already 
 observed distinctions, I have no doubt," she continued. 
 
 "I have already drawn attention to the difference 
 between what is dull and what is amusing," he inter- 
 polated. 
 
 " No doubt it is true from your point of view," said the 
 dowager. "You are a young man and have a restless 
 mind. But all the same, you are making a mistake. When 
 you have lived a little longer you will understand that 
 nothing which is not respectable can really be amusing." 
 
 " Must it, of necessity, be dull? " inquired Sir Godfrey, 
 with his patient smile.
 
 268 GODFREY MERIVALE 
 
 " I have no knowledge of the word," said Lady Hayling 
 gruffly. "It is sufficient for me that there is a distinc- 
 tion between goats and sheep, between what is reputable 
 and what is not so." 
 
 "Between what is good form and bad form?" he 
 suggested. 
 
 Lady Hayling hesitated. "Yes," she assented at last, 
 "you may put it at that." 
 
 " My dear Lady Hayling," said he, more civil than 
 ever, "this is interesting; and the upshot? I feel sure 
 we are getting to close quarters." 
 
 Her eyes darkened on him. "You make the mistake, 
 my dear cousin," she said calmly, "in choosing your 
 society. You have given yourself to the wrong people." 
 
 Godfrey twisted his hat. "I don't know," he said 
 quietly, " that I can be justly accused of giving myself 
 to anyone." 
 
 "You have been abroad for four months," she said 
 abruptly, "and, to speak bluntly, your name is coupled 
 with Lady Marvel's." 
 
 There was a momentary pause. " Indeed," he replied 
 colourlessly, but the colour was in his face. " People are 
 very good," he said coolly, " I suppose if a man is 
 unexpectedly raised from the dunghill to a seat on horse- 
 back he must pay the penalty of the contrast. He is 
 expected to clap spurs to his beast." 
 
 "The stories are circumstantial," said Lady Hayling, 
 with sour disapproval regnant on her brows. 
 
 " Most stories are about handsome women," he 
 observed. 
 
 " Handsome ! " she cried, with scorn. 
 
 "Don't you think her handsome?" he asked, with 
 surprise. " I think Lady Marvel is a very beautiful 
 woman." 
 
 "So it appears," she sneered. 
 
 "She dresses so wonderfully," he went on, deliberately 
 ignoring her, or he must have broken through his control.
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE 269 
 
 His heart was a furnace. "She never wears those 
 hideous coats and skirts, does she, Lady Hayling ? 
 Those skirts and coats which cut the figure, level all 
 proportions to a tame, uninteresting flatness, and deny 
 passage to the male imagination. Don't they, Lady 
 Hayling ? " 
 
 "The man," said the Countess afterwards to her 
 daughter, "the man has an abominable mind. His 
 imagination is prurient " ; but now she rose to the height 
 of her indignation. 
 
 "Your talk is outrageous," she said stormily, "and 
 shows how far you have been corrupted. It is high time 
 you were warned." 
 
 " It is good of you," he said, "and good of those who 
 carried you gossip." 
 
 "This smart society rests on no basis," said she. " It 
 is countenanced only because it has amused a few people 
 who . . ." 
 
 " I think you are probably right," he interrupted, " and 
 when it ceases to amuse me I will not countenance it." 
 
 " Lady Marvel " she began. 
 
 " Lady Marvel," said Godfrey, with some sternness, 
 "is quite well able to look after herself." 
 
 " I'm not thinking of her, but of you," broke out Lady 
 Hayling, with angry candour, "You will spoil yourself. 
 There are tales about everywhere." 
 
 "Oh, I too can look after myself," he said lightly, and 
 
 rose, "and if we are now at an end, Lady Hayling " 
 
 he put out his hand. "It is good of you to take so 
 much interest in me, an upstart, so to speak, an 
 intruder." 
 
 " It is the name the name," she said, furious with her 
 disappointment. 
 
 "Well, I have some interest in the name also," he 
 said, smiling, and again thanking her warmly, took his 
 leave.
 
 270 GODFREY MERIVALE 
 
 The interview, nevertheless, did not leave him as calm 
 as he pretended; a storm threshed in his mind, and, obeying 1 
 the irritation common to sensitive natures, he abused all 
 busybodies and vain gossips. His annoyance was aggra- 
 vated by the coincidence that this public advertisement of 
 their relations should fall upon the top of his own per- 
 plexity. Yet there was no doubt that the fact had some 
 influence on his subsequent conduct, and, indeed, led him 
 to the lane that lay open, a lane which we are to see him 
 taking in the next chapter. 
 
 The dowager at the moment drew his distaste to 
 herself; he was tired of the family, and not disposed at 
 all to feign submission any longer. In which mood he 
 opened and read a letter from Mrs. Fardell. He remem- 
 bered that affectionate soul with remorse, and immediately 
 despatched to her a second invitation, which was accepted 
 with glee and joyous anticipations. Aunt Edith came to 
 London simultaneously with Sir Richard and Lady Marvel. 
 She came without Jim, whose important affairs had called 
 him to America, in order to secure beyond doubt the 
 fortune which they anticipated ; and she went about under 
 Godfrey's guidance with the pleasure of a child. 
 
 "You are sure I'm not doing you any harm, Godfrey," 
 she asked him between two acts of a farce that made her 
 weep with laughter. "I am enjoying this, but if you 
 think I'm doing you any harm, my dear, I'll go back 
 to-morrow." 
 
 Godfrey was touched, as he had occasionally been 
 touched by her speeches. 
 
 " Not the least in the world," he said. " My dear, you 
 are doing me good, for I've not seen anyone laugh so for 
 years." 
 
 "Ho! "said Mrs. Fardell, contemplative of a sudden, 
 "don't they laugh in the upper circles ? Isn't it considered 
 good form to laugh ? " 
 
 " You shall see on Tuesday," he answered, smiling, for 
 on Tuesday he was to give a party.
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE 271 
 
 Mrs. Fardell frowned. " I shouldn't like to put you to 
 shame," she said presently. " I know I'm not exactly 
 what your great friends are, though I'm a lady for all 
 that. But I wouldn't like to embarrass you." 
 
 "Nothing 1 could embarrass me," he said, and feeling 
 that this was perhaps scarce a direct reply, " I shall 
 watch all that you do with sincere satisfaction." 
 
 " I know you always told the truth, my dear," said 
 Mrs. Fardell after examining him, "and so I'm satisfied." 
 
 It took little to satisfy her easy nature, and, her 
 conscience once at rest, she set herself to enjoy her 
 visit, as was apparent at the party. The whimsical idea 
 struck Godfrey that Aunt Edith might play hostess for 
 him, and the picture of this comely jocund woman at 
 the head of his staircase tickled him gently. He saw the 
 Countess of Hayling, who had sighed with relief when 
 she learned of the draper's decease, advancing up the 
 stair. The bare thought had been comedy enough, and, 
 as a matter of fact, it was Lady George who actually 
 received his guests. Once only had he seen Lady Marvel 
 since her return, and he himself addressed her card of 
 invitation. He wrote in pencil above the print, "To meet 
 Mrs. Fardell," and was pleased at his humour. 
 
 Mrs. Fardell was thoroughly at her ease ; she had 
 always had a neat and unostentatious taste in dress, and 
 her whitening hair glorified her. She breathed content, 
 and her nephew paid her affectionate attentions. 
 
 "My mother's sister," he said to Lady George, who 
 smiled, uttered a commonplace, and cast a glance of 
 inquiry at Godfrey. It met with no answer, only supreme 
 gravity and friendliness. 
 
 "I see," said the Countess, who arrived late, to Lady 
 George, " I see the Marchioness of Hale is here. I don't 
 like her ; she's too noisy." 
 
 " I haven't seen her," said Lady George languidly. 
 
 "Over there," said Lady Hayling.
 
 272 GODFREY MERIVALE 
 
 "That! oh, that's not the Marchioness," said Violet, 
 "that's Godfrey's aunt, Mrs. Something Farthingale, 
 I think." 
 
 The Countess raised her brows. " Indeed ! " she said, 
 with an air which signified that this must be looked into. 
 But she was here chiefly to display Aline, to flourish her 
 in the house as a part of it, and possibly the major part 
 of it. "I see that Darling girl," she observed, sweeping 
 the room critically with her glasses. 
 
 "She came with the Crichtons," said Lady George 
 wearily. 
 
 Lady Hayling compressed her lips. She had no 
 objection in the world to the Darling girl, of whose 
 bearing, indeed, she had had occasion to approve in 
 contrast with the growing gracelessness of the day. But 
 she scented danger to her schemes in every pretty girl, 
 and at that moment her kinsman sat in talk with the 
 young lady in animated talk that was observed by other 
 eyes. These were Lady Marvel's, who, shining in her 
 beauty, moved like a goddess through the rooms. She 
 stayed for an instant of time before them, and Godfrey's 
 pregnant gaze dwelled on her in the midst of his con- 
 versation. 
 
 "Well, Lady Marvel, and have you seen Mrs. 
 Fardell?" he asked. 
 
 " And who may she be? " returned the lady coolly. 
 
 Barbara Darling looked as if the tone had shocked 
 her. 
 
 " She is my aunt," said Godfrey. 
 
 " Oh, then, for Heaven's sake introduce me," said 
 Lady Marvel gaily. " I shall learn secrets about you." 
 
 When he had returned to his seat the girl's attitude 
 was more distant, and now and then her glance roved 
 to Aunt Edith and Lady Marvel. 
 
 " Do you think they'll get on? " he inquired. 
 
 Miss Darling coloured to discover that her observations
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE 273 
 
 had been noticed. She sprang- lightly into blushes, which 
 made her delicate skin as soft and warm as a peach. 
 
 " I don't think so," she said seriously. "How could 
 they? They are very different. Mrs. Fardell is a 
 natural woman, and Lady Marvel " 
 
 She did not complete her sentence, and Godfrey won- 
 dered if rumours had reached her also. 
 
 "Yes," he answered, "Aunt Edith is full of sincerity. 
 She cannot conceal her thoughts. Some women, you 
 know, lie with the lips, others with the face, and some 
 with the heart." 
 
 She looked at him anxiously. " I don't think I quite 
 know what you mean," she said. 
 
 Godfrey laughed. "Oh, only that Mrs. Fardell's face 
 would speak if her voice didn't." 
 
 " She's a very good woman," said Miss Darling after a 
 pause. " I liked her very much." 
 
 He had the thought that she meant to put him at his 
 ease lest by any chance he should be doubtful of Mrs. 
 Fardell. It had the appearance of patronage, and caused 
 a tiny smile to move across his features. 
 
 "I'm glad you liked her," he said ; "I've always liked 
 her. She would have mothered me if she could, dear 
 soul. I never had a mother." 
 
 Large eyes, liquid with sentiment, gleamed on him for 
 a moment, and he felt he had drawn her sympathy. 
 From the door of the music-room in the distance Lady 
 Hayling spoke loudly to Lady George. 
 
 " It's indecent. Someone should take her away." 
 
 " He's only been there about ten minutes," remon- 
 strated Lady George. 
 
 But the Countess had taken action ; she sailed across 
 the room and called upon her host, who rose cere- 
 moniously. The great lady annihilated the girl with her 
 very presence, in which nothing less formidable might 
 aspire to recognition. She dismissed her with an in- 
 T
 
 274 GODFREY MERIVALE 
 
 different inquiry after some acquaintance, and taking- 
 possession of Godfrey's chair looked to Miss Darling to 
 retire. The girl obeyed, but Sir Godfrey still stood. 
 
 "Can you tell me where Aline is?" asked Lady 
 Hayling in her pleasantest voice. 
 
 "Aline, when I last saw her," said Godfrey, "dear 
 Aline was eating chocolates. I daresay she's doing it 
 still." 
 
 Lady Hayling said abruptly, " I'm told your aunt is 
 here. I never heard of any aunt. Who is she? " 
 
 "My mother's sister, if it so please you," replied 
 Godfrey, bowing. 
 
 " French manners," she told herself, with a sneer, but 
 aloud, " introduce her to me." 
 
 "With all the pleasure in the world," he said, and went 
 for Mrs. Fardell. 
 
 This enabled him to slip the dowager, of whom he was 
 by now profoundly weary. That lady did not perceive 
 that she had thrown him into Lady Marvel's hands. 
 Cynthia stared at him with a cold smile. 
 
 " I know why you did that," she said quickly, sharply ; 
 " you will always fling it in my face." 
 
 " What is my offence? " he asked helplessly. 
 
 "I am no fool," she said impatiently. "She is a decent 
 woman, of course. Why do you keep flinging the fact in 
 my face. I don't want to know it, and I don't care. It's 
 nothing in the world to me." 
 
 " Ah, you mean Mrs. Fardell " he began slowly. 
 
 " I mean you go about with your tongue in your cheek, 
 and it isn't natural to you," she broke out angrily. 
 " I don't believe there is anything natural in you. You 
 are artifice from head to foot. You are detestable." 
 
 "I can remember a time," he replied deliberately, 
 "when from head to foot I responded to every tone 
 and change of nature. I was the sensitive plant, ex- 
 posed to the rude assaults of wind and rain and frost.
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE 275 
 
 But it didn't pay, Lady Marvel ; it was folly. I think 
 we all have to learn that, even you, Cynthia ? " He 
 smiled inquiringly at her, and the smile had its effect 
 upon her. She laughed shortly. 
 
 " Oh yes, you can reckon me in," she said. " I have 
 been through it." 
 
 "Women don't as a rule, of course," he said sen- 
 tentiously. "They achieve naturalness only as man 
 achieves artificiality after long years. The processes 
 are contrary." 
 
 " I don't know what you mean, and don't want to," she 
 retorted, and after a pause, "Will you come and see me 
 to-morrow afternoon ? " 
 
 There was something other than authority in her tones ; 
 a faint note of doubt, though scarcely of entreaty, might 
 have been detected by one who was on the watch. Godfrey 
 was momentarily silent. 
 
 " I'm afraid I can't to-morrow," he said. "I am going 
 to Pontrack for a couple of days. Business." 
 
 " I think you'd better go and talk to that girl again," 
 she said abruptly ; " you were very merry." 
 
 " Merry? " he said. " I don't think I'd call her merry. 
 She's sedate, like a nun. But I'll take your advice, 
 and go." 
 
 For some reason, perhaps it was because of her un- 
 reasonableness, he had been irritated, and he turned away 
 and discovered Barbara Darling. She was with Aline, 
 who was not eating chocolates now. Aline's healthy face, 
 brown and somewhat broad, was the very emblem of 
 common sense ; she walked pedestrian ways, with some- 
 thing of her mother's good humour and a good deal of 
 maidenly innocence. If the pawn were pushed unduly 
 forward, it was not Aline's work ; she passively resisted, 
 but was in the thrall of the dowager, as all that family. 
 Imagination was not strong enough in the ordinary 
 Merivale blood to run against traditions, and for years
 
 276 GODFREY MERIVALE 
 
 Lady Hayling had been tyrant of the destinies of the 
 young generation. Barbara Darling shone delicately by 
 comparison with the robust girl beside her, who had a 
 friendly feeling for her cousin the baronet. 
 
 " I like him a great deal better than my Uncle Hubert," 
 she avowed to Miss Darling, her friend. " I think Uncle 
 Hubert was very sneery." 
 
 Barbara Darling had a doubt in her mind if Uncle 
 Hubert's successor might not also be so described ; but 
 the thought was too vague and elusive to materialise. 
 
 In the distance, said the Countess to Mrs. Fardell 
 graciously, "Where do you live?" and nodded over her 
 fan at the information. She had visions of a "Merchant 
 Prince of England," and framed her catechism urbanely. 
 Aunt Edith's indignant denial startled and chilled her. 
 
 "Good gracious, no! Don't you fancy it. Jim's more 
 brains than that. He's an engineer, and invents things. 
 He's taken out lots of patents," and Mrs. Fardell was 
 committed forthwith to a history of Jim and his fortunes. 
 It mattered nothing that her auditor received the recital 
 in silence, or at the best with monosyllables. What could 
 stop that warm gush of friendly gossip when the springs 
 were struck and opened? "Of course we've never been 
 anything but poor up to now." 
 
 "Ah, indeed!" 
 
 " But though we're not swells, we're not dependent on 
 any, thank Heaven ! Not but what Godfrey, dear boy, 
 would sell his last boot for us, if it was necessary." 
 
 It was at this stage that the expression on the Countess's 
 face became noticeable; it "lived," so to speak, across 
 the large room, and arrested not only Godfrey's attention, 
 but that of his companions. 
 
 "I think my aunt is enjoying herself," said Godfrey 
 pleasantly. 
 
 Miss Darling sent a glance at him, which combined 
 astonishment and reproach.
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE 277 
 
 " Look at Lady Hayling's face," said Aline, with frank 
 laughter. 
 
 Disgust was now in passage over Barbara's face, and 
 Godfrey looked at her whimsically. She quivered with 
 indignation. 
 
 " It is not fair," she burst forth on him ; " oh, I cannot 
 think how you can allow it ! Mrs. Fardell is a kind, good 
 woman, and . . . ' 
 
 Godfrey had a glimpse of what ran in her mind, and 
 wondered. 
 
 " I think you might take my word for it," he said 
 soberly, " that Mrs. Fardell is thoroughly enjoying 
 herself." 
 
 " It's more than Lady Hayling is," said Aline merrily. 
 
 Barbara was not satisfied by the answer ; her delicate 
 sensibilities winced at the sight of those two in company. 
 Sir Godfrey was abominably lacking in taste. It was 
 mean, atrocious, to take pleasure in the conflict of the 
 two natures. When Aline had gone he addressed her 
 playfully. 
 
 "You know perfectly well that Mrs. Fardell is a 
 simple nature," she declared with asperity, "and you 
 expose her to ... ' 
 
 " To what ? " he asked, and she did not answer. 
 
 "I expose her to a thorough enjoyment of the situa- 
 tion," he answered himself. " We are not all so sensitive 
 as you, Miss Darling. It is a pity, but perhaps on the 
 whole it is as well. The world gets on somehow." 
 
 She told herself in her soul that it was obvious that 
 he had no sensitiveness at all, that he was but the brutal 
 animal after all. But despite his repudiation of her 
 charges, Godfrey liked her the better for her outcry. 
 He had had a glimpse, as he thought, into a very pretty, 
 gentle soul, and had found it furnished with generous 
 impulses and garnished with refinement.
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 MRS. FARDELL had thoroughly appreciated the 
 entertainment which had been given, Godfrey 
 assured her, in her honour. But she had some criticisms 
 to offer. 
 
 " I don't much like that fine lady of yours," she said. 
 "They may be manners, my dear, but well, they're not 
 the manners I'm accustomed to. " 
 
 " Lady Marvel can be rude," agreed Godfrey. 
 
 "Oh, she wasn't rude," said Aunt Edith, "she was very 
 polite. But morals ! Oh, she did talk ! Why, when I 
 was her age I didn't know half of what she knows, and 
 as for talking about it . . . ! She's too handsome by 
 half, and if I were her husband, I shouldn't be comfort- 
 able at all, I tell you. People like that," said Aunt 
 Edith philosophically, " haven't any business to be 
 married. They just ought to ... well, be what they 
 ought to be, my dear." 
 
 "I'm sorry Lady Marvel shocked you," said Godfrey, 
 " but, you know, she's considered quite respectable." 
 
 "Oh, she didn't shock me," said Mrs. Fardell. "I'm 
 not a person to be shocked. I've seen too much. But 
 as for being respectable well, I should just like Jim's 
 opinion on her." 
 
 Godfrey would also have liked to hear the opinion of 
 the absent Mr. Fardell, whom he had never seen. But 
 Mrs. Fardell rattled on to other subjects. 
 
 "Now that Miss Darling's a nice girl, if you like! 
 And as pretty too ! I don't like bold, strong faces in a 
 
 278
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE 279 
 
 woman. There's a place for everything. But that Miss 
 Darling, my dear she's a sweet thing." 
 
 " I admire her very much," confessed her nephew. 
 
 "Do you?" said Mrs. Fardell, gazing at him re- 
 flectively, and without any consciousness that the track 
 of her mind was thus laid bare, asked, after a pause 
 
 " I suppose you'll be thinking of a wife soon, my dear ? " 
 
 Godfrey considered the problem gravely. "Not yet, 
 I think," he replied, and begged another cup of coffee 
 from her. As Mrs. Fardell filled the cup her thoughts flew 
 that way like wandering pigeons. 
 
 "Someone ought to be sitting at the head of your 
 table, my dear. You can't get over that. Why, you're 
 over thirty, and it's high time you were settling. I don't 
 like these messy ways with married women," she broke 
 out with frank distaste ; " not but what you could always 
 look after yourself," she added, to temper the bluntness 
 of her remark. 
 
 Godfrey concealed a smile, and remembered that Lady 
 Hayling also had displayed a similar distaste. He spoke 
 of her, and Mrs. Fardell, her agile fancy veering, threw 
 up her hands. 
 
 "The questions she asked!" she declared, and upon 
 that, " I don't think she's a bad old thing, but rather 
 cross, I should say. She looks as if she bullied her 
 family." 
 
 " I believe she does," said Godfrey. 
 
 " Really she ought to dress better, my dear. I was 
 looking at her all over, and her clothes ! . . . I wouldn't 
 be a frump like that, though I am close on fifty." 
 
 When Mrs. Fardell departed to the north Godfrey saw 
 her off; to whom she thrust her head out of the window 
 of the train. 
 
 "Just you let me know when you find that young lady, 
 my dear," she said archly ; " but I bet you haven't got so 
 far to look either. Oh, you know what I mean, Godfrey," 
 and she winked and smiled.
 
 280 GODFREY MERIVALE 
 
 He did, of course, know what she meant, but had no 
 intention of taking her advice at the moment. His own 
 trial of strength with Lady Marvel, as has appeared, had 
 ended in his favour, but had lodged him in even deeper peril 
 than defeat would have done. He had aroused in Cynthia 
 a definite emotion, or rather he had fused in her various 
 sentiments, forging thus something inflammable, of which 
 he knew little, and of which he was half afraid. He 
 grew to feel that it was irksome steering amid explosives, 
 and dancing upon the edges of disaster, playing a game 
 which involved unceasing vigilance, began to affect his 
 nerves. He thought of flight, and discarded the notion ; 
 and at last he took the only remedy, but that was pre- 
 cipitated by another scene and another person. 
 
 Sir Godfrey paid a visit to the Strahans after his return 
 from abroad, and Mrs. Strahan had been invited to Mrs. 
 Fardell's party, had come radiant, had been treated as an 
 old friend, and had been pleased to mingle with so many 
 guests of social importance. She was with her father, 
 Colonel Sebright, the memory of whose affectionate 
 cheerfulness was dear to Godfrey. It was then that 
 Laura exacted from the latter a promise to dine. He had 
 been in his title for a year or more, and Mrs. Strahan felt 
 that the distance between them was too great ; it had not 
 dwindled in proportion to the stretch of time. He was 
 excellently friendly, but it was a friendliness that remained 
 cold, kept its head, calculated, and was distressingly 
 reasonable. Laura's heart yearned after something 
 warmer, after some more intimate appreciation, and she 
 would have staked high for that conquest. This was the 
 naked fact, and yet she was a woman of small courage 
 and of respectable conventions. She carried away from 
 the Fardell entertainment a vivid sense of the prominence 
 of Sir Godfrey Merivale's position, an envy of the facile 
 members of fashionable society, and a feverish desire to 
 draw her old lover closer. She had seen him challenged 
 by Lady Marvel's eyes ; she was witness to Cynthia's
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE 281 
 
 petulant outbreak, which she watched with greedy glances ; 
 and she drove away, her bosom charged with bitterness, 
 until she remembered that Godfrey was coming to dinner. 
 
 The date was in early spring, on such an evening, blue 
 with the reaction of the glowing lamps and blown with 
 soft winds, as he might have remembered from the past. 
 Laura Strahan, as she stood looking out of her window, 
 in one of her prettiest gowns, wondered if he would 
 remember, and, remembering, in what temper he would 
 pass those days in review. She was shaken with agita- 
 tion, and pale as her white roses, but the colour charged 
 into her cheeks when he entered. She began volubly, 
 which was unlike her well-ordered nature. It seemed that 
 Mr. Strahan had had to go to Paris unexpectedly. 
 
 "I had arranged a dinner en famiUe" she said, con- 
 fusion in her laugh, "that's the worst of it! And now 
 you are left with me alone." 
 
 Godfrey assured her that she was a host in herself, 
 adding indulgently, " So, you see, I have both host and 
 hostess in one." 
 
 She laughed as if in the relief of one who has got 
 through a dreaded task, and Godfrey, who was never 
 ceremonious at heart, was even disposed to be thankful 
 he was spared the financier. There was nothing formid- 
 able in their dining together in this public way, advertised 
 by invitation and the sanction of the husband. He never 
 gave the situation another thought, but the sense of it 
 burned in her face all the evening. She was sweetly 
 playful, and her delight was the measure of his social 
 elevation. She called prettily for her children, when he 
 had inquired about them, and the boy and the girl entered 
 the drawing-room, and were shown preparatory to bed. 
 They were already in their nightgowns, and seemed 
 amazed at their descent to these grand parts of the 
 house. The nurse kept a kind, maternal eye upon them, 
 and received Godfrey's congratulations with the pride 
 of a clucking hen. Then he must become witness of
 
 282 GODFREY MERIVALE 
 
 a pretty domestic scene, in which Laura fondled her 
 daughter and played with the curls of her son, with the 
 assistance of many affectionate adjectives. It should 
 have been touching, but it struck Godfrey somehow as 
 oddly inconsistent with what he knew of Laura and he 
 knew a good deal. 
 
 " Perhaps that is the good it has done for her," was his 
 charitable explanation. 
 
 The admirable dinner at an end, he was permitted to 
 smoke a cigarette in the drawing-room, and directed into 
 annals of the past. It was a far call to Cheltenham, and 
 had been used more than once, yet back to Cheltenham they 
 went. With low lights, a slumbering fire, the spring air 
 flowing in by open windows, and the incommunicable 
 fragrance of earth and grass upon an April night, 
 Godfrey's senses were slowly affected. They always 
 had been potent instruments in his life ; his intellect was 
 for the moment in abeyance, with feeling and the mere 
 pulse of his body dominant. There was pleasure even in 
 listening to Laura's low laughter she had ever a charm- 
 ing voice. 
 
 "And so," she said at last, when these reminiscences 
 flagged, " so you have more than realised your boyish 
 dreams." 
 
 "On the contrary," said he; "I have stultified them. 
 There is nothing that I set out in life to do which I have 
 done, save one thing, and that is to become prominent. 
 The irony of the situation is that I owe the prominence to 
 chance, to an accident I had never contemplated. I have 
 done nothing of myself." 
 
 The point was scarcely one that would appeal to Laura, 
 but she sighed sympathetically. 
 
 "I think all lives are like that," she said. "At least 
 . . . People make mistakes, take the wrong turnings, 
 call the wrong cabs . . . There's only really room for 
 two inside a hansom, you know," she laughed her soft 
 laughter. Her back was towards him, and her face to
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE 283 
 
 the window and the night. He had been on his guard 
 before Lady Marvel ; he was quite unsuspicious before 
 Laura, and he said what he thought. 
 
 "There is a good deal in life to be thankful for, even 
 for rich people," he said, smiling ; " both of us find that, 
 I suppose. We are comfortable, and drink good wine, 
 ride in wet weather, and fly from fogs ; and well, of 
 course, there are your children." 
 
 She uttered an exclamation. 
 
 "People take the wrong turnings, I say," she cried, with 
 emotion. "You can't go back . . . there's no going back." 
 
 He would have quoted idly " vestigia nulla retrorsum," 
 but she turned, and her tragic eyes waited on him. 
 
 " I'm I'm sorry, Laura," he fumbled, aware of a 
 sudden that she had some personal mistake in mind. He 
 jumped to the conclusion that Strahan must have been 
 offensive. 
 
 Her name had dropped unconsciously from him, and 
 set her heart throbbing faster. He felt driven to say 
 something. "I hope ... I didn't know ..." 
 
 Laura smiled weakly; "I suppose you didn't," she 
 said. " One doesn't go about with a trumpet announcing 
 one's blunders," and on that the low, staccato sentences 
 broke from her lips, as if reluctantly. It had been a mis- 
 take from the first . . . He was . . . well, what every- 
 one saw . . . Six years might be a martyrdom under 
 some conditions . . . The man had tastes . . . Oh, he 
 was kindly in a way, and spent money . . . But his tastes 
 . . . And turning on him impulsively, " He is in Paris 
 now. Why, do you suppose? Because he has a liking 
 for the . . . pleasures of Paris, the . . . oh, I won't 
 explain. He is welcome to them all. I would never 
 grudge him that . . . He's that kind of man. But 
 association . . . the constant jar, the ..." her voice 
 trailed away. "There, I have done. You have the 
 naked truth," and she was silent.
 
 284 GODFREY MERIVALE 
 
 The deluge descended on Godfrey, and he sat still. He 
 repeated vaguely, "I'm very sorry, very, very sorry." 
 But it seemed cruel to shower these blows on him. Laura 
 spoke again, low and troubled. 
 
 "I took a wrong turning, Godfrey. I was a fool or 
 worse ... I was everything you thought me." 
 
 Panic suddenly enveloped Godfrey, panic in which the 
 greatest fear was fear of himself. He had gone leisurely 
 to the very verge of a chasm, and the low-lighted room 
 had nearly betrayed him. It was with difficulty that he 
 extricated himself, and he walked all the way home, a 
 prey to contending emotions. 
 
 He awoke next day with a calmer mind, and able to 
 weigh facts with greater sanity, yet the effect of fear 
 remained. He began to see opening up before him 
 innumerable chances of peril. His own character was as 
 little to be trusted as the fortune which could multiply 
 opportunities. He had begun to see himself in a white 
 light, not the eidolon or simulacrum which he had set 
 up and painted in such sinister colours these last few 
 years, but the restless man of sentiment, the victim of 
 sensitive emotions. But being what he was, that com- 
 pound of strenuous hard stock and more delicate blood, 
 he called upon his courage and temper, and made his 
 resolutions. He could view Lady Marvel now with some 
 indifference, and that not unkindly, and he thought over 
 Laura's pretty airs with an indulgent smile. They were 
 not dangerous now, but he was wise in his hour of cold 
 blood, and not too confident. He withdrew out of London 
 for a month, as it was stated in the Morning Post, for the 
 season, as it proved. There was much to be done at 
 Pontrack, and he set himself to do it. Here, remote in 
 those fastnesses, in which his ancestors had defended 
 themselves from their implacable enemies, so did Sir 
 Godfrey keep himself secure from friends even more 
 dangerous. For the first time for years he took stock of
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE 285 
 
 his mind, as it were, and hunted over his manuscripts for 
 the work of other days and other enthusiasms. It was 
 wonderful how much he had written, and to what little 
 effect ; for here were verses to fill a book, chapters of 
 novels, sketches of plots, elaborate scenarios of plays, and 
 the bases and foundations of philosophical essays the 
 full, untidy workroom of an imaginative mind, which had 
 lacked patience and never discovered itself. The revolution, 
 which had been silently and gradually moving in his mind, 
 was marked here by his attitude towards these discards ; 
 -he sat down in his evenings of leisure to sift and tidy, and 
 out of the mess he saw emerge, presently, a considerable 
 piece of work. It was a bundle of essays upon social 
 and political subjects, and seemed to him to flow in an 
 engaging style. He glowed pleasantly with the delight 
 of creation, and the summer passed agreeably. This 
 .return to the ideals of his boyhood brought also a renewal 
 of his simplicity. The air of those abounding moors 
 filled and inspired him with an affection for nature ; he wit- 
 nessed the slow passage of the year from gold to green, 
 and green to gold again. The heather made the hills 
 amaranthine in August, and the wind came off the 
 North Sea with freshness and strength, kindling in him 
 forgotten dreams. He regained his youth, that youth 
 which had never been lost, but which experience and 
 failure had disguised with a false face. 
 
 In September he had a domestic house-party, as had 
 been arranged by Lady Hayling, and accepted by him in 
 his new mood ; and once again he was conscious that 
 Aline was being thrust forward and was passively re- 
 sistant. He was so sure of both facts that he would even 
 have jested with her on the subject, if he had not been 
 afraid of her pride. A few months since he would not 
 have considered that point at all. He wondered more 
 than once what sort of a wife Aline would make, and, 
 seeing that she was sound and wholesome, came to the
 
 286 GODFREY MERIVALE 
 
 conclusion that she would make an excellent one. But you 
 will see how sanely this was considered ; the imaginative 
 mind exacts more than that, and Godfrey was not as yet 
 ripe for what he was occasionally revolving- within him. 
 
 The time was, however, drawing close. You must 
 conceive the situation. He carried away from Pontrack 
 some pressing thoughts, one of which related to his 
 candidature at the next election. The sense of the county 
 required him, and it was drummed in his ears that this 
 was his duty. No one but the reigning Merivale could 
 hold the seat against the encroaching Radicals, to which 
 he had a simple and disconcerting reply. 
 
 " But r don't know that I am a Tory." 
 
 He was pushed into a corner and asked if he were not 
 at least a Unionist, and confessed to it, whereupon his 
 deputation retired triumphantly. It began to seem as if 
 the walls of the prison were closing about him, and he 
 did not know that he disliked it. The idea of " settling" 
 loomed nearer through the mists ahead. He winced at 
 the thought of Lady Marvel, but endeavoured to shut his 
 eyes to her picture. The battle had been fought, as we 
 have seen, and the man was victor, the woman all tears 
 for the inaccessible, the untamable. He was in strings 
 to none, and his eyes were free to roam over the 
 market, at the expense only of some emotion and very 
 probably "a scene." But there was something else that 
 drew him on this course of deliberation even more 
 urgently. The Merivales must survive. It was true 
 that Uncle Humphrey was building railways and bridges 
 somewhere in India, and, as he had wilfully hinted to 
 Lady Hayling, no doubt had a dubious Eurasian progeny. 
 But what Sir Hubert and Sir Francis had lacked that must 
 he not, and in due time Godfrey's son must rule in 
 Godfrey's stead. To this natural conclusion he was 
 being pressed by the Countess also, who had taken fright 
 at his Eurasian picture.
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE 287 
 
 By November, then, he was once more in London, 
 picking up the ends of his affairs there, and being 
 welcomed by such friends as still remained to brave the 
 buffets of the approaching winter. Imagine him in full 
 physical splendour, fresh from those chaste and solitary 
 spaces, descended upon town and its wilting glories. 
 Yet out of the wreck of the summer is a new, a different 
 glory born, and winter has no lack of bright faces and 
 warm-beating hearts. Whereas he had communed in the 
 woods and on the fells with his own fancies, he now 
 must bring himself into the life of the world, and chatter 
 with women or jest with men. He found the change not 
 at all unpleasant, even though Lady Hayling made fresh 
 efforts to engross him. He edged away, smiling, but not 
 afraid, yet was relieved to discover that Cynthia was out 
 of town. He had a packet of her letters tied in ribbons, 
 which he had received while at Pontrack, and he deliberated 
 more than once as to whether he should sacrifice them to 
 the flames. At the moment, at any rate, he had no heart 
 to do so ; it would have seemed like a blow upon that 
 delicate flesh. 
 
 It fell out that Aline and Godfrey, in the course of an 
 afternoon's adventure, found themselves, by the contriv- 
 ance of the powers, alone together. It was a barefaced 
 move, and would not have been attempted save by some- 
 one who was either inexperienced in the art or confident 
 of final success. As the trick grew evident (for they had 
 to wait in the rain), Godfrey's temper simmered to the 
 point of ebullition. Aline's frank and smiling awkward- 
 ness abashed him. It was, to his mind, an abominable 
 shame to use the girl so. If the truth be told, he suffered 
 more than the daughter of that vigorous but not sensitive 
 race. But Aline's blush stirred him to protest. 
 
 "I'm extremely sorry, Aline," he said with feeling. 
 
 "Oh!" she said, the smile broadening and her con- 
 fusion enveloping her warmly. " It can't be helped. So
 
 288 GODFREY MERIVALE 
 
 am I ..." and then, "Please put me in a hansom, 
 Cousin Godfrey." 
 
 " Indeed I won't!" he rejoined. "You shall drive 
 with me." 
 
 Aline settled back in the carriage. " The amusing- part 
 is," she observed in her unsentimental way, "that I don't 
 care a rap about you." 
 
 "I'm sorry for that," he observed. "I had some 
 hopes " 
 
 "Please don't talk rubbish," said Aline, in her most 
 practical voice, and turned the conversation to Barbara 
 Darling. She maintained a staunch friendship for Miss 
 Darling, despite their dissimilarities, and Godfrey was 
 cordially able to join in her admiration. But at his eulogy, 
 which was choicely phrased, Aline turned on him inquisi- 
 tive eyes. Gossip had reached her, and she wondered. 
 Was he wicked ? 
 
 " I shouldn't have thought you would admire Barbara's 
 type," she said. 
 
 "My dear Aline, I admire all types," he said. "I 
 have a very catholic mind. 
 
 " I shouldn't have thought she would have been showy 
 well, spirited enough for you," she went on, as if he 
 had not spoken. She had an amazing trick of absorption, 
 a most embarrassing way of overlooking one's remarks. 
 
 "Showy!" said Godfrey, cocking an eye out of the 
 window. 
 
 " No, I didn't mean that," she protested penitently. 
 
 "Oh, well, better be honest, Aline," he said. "No, 
 I don't think I prefer showy women. As I have said, I 
 admire them all, and I'm not sure that the dimity, the 
 Dresden china, is not the choicest of the lot." 
 
 Aline reflected that he was lying, but he was not. He 
 had a sincere appreciation of Miss Darling's daintiness, 
 of her irreproachable beauty, of the virginal charm, which 
 renders the event we are approaching intelligible.
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE 289 
 
 It was perhaps more than intelligible, for, looked at 
 through the circumstances, it was a most natural con- 
 clusion to the whole matter. Godfrey was under no 
 misapprehension as to his own feelings. He had passed 
 that period in his development when he believed that 
 there was but one woman in the world for each man. 
 On the contrary, he was quite aware that his choice 
 might with no distressing difficulties fall on any one of 
 many. But proximity and the growth of appreciation 
 decided him, and to these must, no doubt, be added his 
 long sojourn in the wilderness. He observed Barbara 
 Darling with diligence, watched her approvingly, and 
 was fascinated by her reserve and her sincerity. Her 
 gaze was detached, it involved no subtleties, she was 
 wholly single-minded, and in her looks and gait she 
 stood confessed for the triumph of maidenhood. That 
 she was serious-minded, and had gentle views on religion, 
 seemed to him merely a fresh charm in her. Not a 
 shadow of that coquetry which had been proved so false 
 in Laura darkened the innocent nature of Barbara 
 Darling. Instead of the pawns moving to the king, the 
 king moved now towards a pawn. It would be good to 
 be at rest, and Pontrack was crying out for a representa- 
 tive Pontrack was calling also for an heir. The web ot 
 his fate was about Sir Godfrey Merivale. There is nothing 
 in life so grave as marriage, unless it be death ; yet one 
 must die and one need not marry. 
 
 But in despite of these forces which were drawing him 
 forward, it may be that the end would not have been 
 reached, at all events so swiftly, had it not been for 
 Lady Hayling and the band. The Countess in her mask 
 as grande dame gave a wonderful party, to be invited to 
 which was a mark of distinction. Only such of the 
 smart set as also belonged by right of birth to the ex- 
 clusive section of society were among the guests, and, 
 to be frank, some of these did not go. 
 U
 
 290 GODFREY MERIVALE 
 
 "We might possibly meet recruits there," was pleaded 
 feebly by one fashionable lady with a name for boldness, 
 but she was silenced instantly. 
 
 "Well, my dear, if you want whitewashing, go by all 
 means. But for any other reason " 
 
 The party, in a measure, did whitewash one or two 
 aberrant spirits, who paid for the sanctification by the 
 dulness of their penance. To Godfrey, who was not in 
 need of redemption, the affair moved as slow as to the 
 wicked guests, but he soon found some relief for his 
 tedium. Escaping from the environment of the respect- 
 able, he made for Miss Darling, who was certainly not to 
 be classed among the goats, and breathed his satisfaction. 
 
 " I thought I should never get away from Lady 
 Augusta," he said. " I had said all that was conceivable 
 about the attitude of the poor to the Church, and a good 
 deal more than was true. Now for my reward." His 
 reward was a shy smile, in which lingered a little doubt 
 of him. 
 
 " Immaculate ! " he told himself, and had a sudden and 
 unexpected desire to take her hand. She was radiant 
 with vestal seductiveness, and her innocent brow was 
 serene and childlike. Yet he had recognised long since 
 that she had a character personal to herself, although her 
 reticence prevented it from emerging into full view. She 
 disapproved of his views of Lady Hayling, but only 
 indicated this by little quiet signs. 
 
 "You are rather alarming in your ideas sometimes, 
 Sir Godfrey," she said, with her smile, from which it 
 was clear, as he reflected, that the Dresden beauty lacked 
 a sense of humour, if nothing else. But he did not look 
 for a woman to have humour. He wanted beauty, grace, 
 sincerity, and dignity. These were all implicit in Barbara 
 Darling. And she looked frail in the delicacy of her 
 prettiness. He remembered he had heard that "the 
 Darlings were poor." All that was hypersensitive in 
 him rushed to the surface at the sight and pity of such
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE 291 
 
 loveliness. Aline had told him that Barbara had 
 refused two offers that season. He managed so that they 
 had supper together in a secluded corner; and -with the 
 first sparkle of the wine in his blood his obsession leaped 
 into formidable proportions. He was only intoxicated with 
 the fulness of his blood, which one glass of wine fired to 
 enthusiasm. There was nothing now in the room for 
 him save one face and body, a gentle body swaying with 
 grace in its movements at the table. If all eyes had 
 passed that way, he would not have noticed or cared. 
 And as happens in such cases, the more personal his feel- 
 ings grew the more serious became his talk, and ere he 
 was conscious, they had passed from the discussion of 
 ideals to the temptations of life and the sins of poor 
 humanity. It was not the frailty of woman, but of man, 
 that he was considering ; he pleaded for poor man. 
 
 "Ah ! if women knew ! The blunders ! " Here, surely, 
 was an echo of Laura, but the echo was the inspiration 
 of genuine emotion. He was aware of Barbara's hands, 
 soft and cool-seeming ; he was aware of her pretty neck 
 and the curve of her shoulders. His earnestness made 
 her eyes fall, and she fidgeted with something before her. 
 He knew that she answered something in a low voice. 
 And at that moment (by what decree of Fate !) the band 
 in another room broke into a tune. To the swing of 
 it his pulses jigged, his soul swam upon the melody. 
 Emotion broke its last barrier and flowed forth at will. 
 
 " Barbara . . ."he had said, and stopped. Frightened 
 eyes flashed on him, and he looked down on Barbara's 
 slender, heaving bosom. " I want you to be my wife." 
 
 It was over ; the die had fallen ; he could never again 
 take up his life at this point where he dropped it before 
 the feet of a beautiful girl. 
 
 She glanced fearfully about the room, her face a fine 
 rose, but paling, and behold they were in the solitude 
 of a multitude, in the silence of innumerable noises. 
 
 "Answer me, answer me, child ! " he cried.
 
 292 GODFREY MERIVALE 
 
 She was now quite pale, and she met his ardent gaze 
 gravely and abashed. 
 
 "Yes," she scarcely whispered. 
 
 It was not until he was out of the house half an hour 
 later that he recalled the band and remembered the tune. 
 It was that ancient favourite, long buried in his youth, 
 Myosotis ! The fervour of his mood was so extreme that 
 he did not pursue the train of reflection further, nor did 
 he ever retrieve out of the past a recollection of what 
 sentiment Myosotis stood for in his life. 
 
 The frenzy of Lady Hayling was only rivalled by the 
 delight of Aline. A bogey had been removed from her 
 life, and it was very pleasant to have a friend married 
 to an important and wealthy person. The Countess 
 ventured so far as to storm, and was threatened with the 
 pack of Eurasians. 
 
 "Very well, if I'm not to marry, Lady Hayling, please 
 say so. I'm sure Uncle Humphrey will hear the news 
 with joy." 
 
 Lady Hayling's retort was that he was certainly to 
 marry, but that the person chosen was objectionable, and, 
 mild sarcasm failing in a weary spirit, was answered by an 
 uprising of the Merivale blood, strong, bluff, and brutal. 
 
 " Good heavens, madam, do you suppose I marry for 
 you, or for anyone but myself ? I have not reached that 
 point of altruism. Miss Darling shall be my wife. I care 
 not a damn for the family." 
 
 He had not supposed that the Countess could have 
 irritated him so deeply, and he had met her with in- 
 difference. On the other hand, he winced at the prospect 
 of Lady Marvel's return. Yet, oddly enough, his fears 
 were unnecessary, for she took his news quietly. 
 
 "I expected it," she said simply, and then, in a tone 
 which had a current of bitterness, she had added, "You 
 have broken me in, you see, Godfrey " ; which seemed to 
 him, when he thought of it, rather piteous, and raised 
 a ghost from its fresh sepulchre.
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 DURING the next two years of Godfrey's life broad 
 fields of action seemed to be slowly widening before 
 him. He was preparing to enter Parliament, for the seat 
 was assured to him at the next election, and he was 
 cultivating the virtues of a good landlord on his estates. 
 Indeed, he lived at Pontrack for a great part of the 
 year, and found his interest in agriculture wonderfully 
 stimulated. Ideas now began to move him less than facts, 
 although he must from his character always lie greatly 
 under the influence of theory. But with this enlargement 
 of his life he began to apply facts to his theories more 
 practically, and to whittle and shape the latter in accord- 
 ance with the former. He saw himself in a way to become 
 a man of affairs, in which career his earlier training in 
 the machinery of London would aid him. There is no 
 doubt but at this time his marriage had quickened his 
 interests, reinforced his blood, and altogether improved 
 his character. 
 
 The chief feature in Barbara Merivale's nature, which 
 was her gentle aloofness, was sensibly heightened by 
 the change in her life, rising indeed to the dignity of 
 a gracious lady. She was quite young, being only 
 four - and - twenty, but she passed imperceptibly but 
 quickly from a virginal girlhood to a queenly maturity. 
 Of course, the major part of this change fell after the 
 birth of her child, but the revolution was in progress 
 from the first days of her marriage. Returned from the 
 honeymoon she settled into her place with the ease and 
 
 293
 
 294 GODFREY MERIVALE 
 
 assurance of one born to it, and Godfrey observed the 
 fact with inward delight. He thought of Lady Marvel's 
 contemptuous criticisms, of her "Ophelia! " and rejoiced 
 to contemplate how brilliantly his wife seemed destined 
 to shine upon the stage of society. "The beautiful Lady 
 Merivale " and " Lovely Saint Barbara " were phrases 
 that he had himself overheard in crowded rooms. With 
 this alteration, or rather development, of her character, 
 he grew acquainted with a certain fixity of will and 
 resolution which he had never attributed to his wife. 
 He had not attributed to one so gentle the strength 
 of purpose which she began to show. She was not easily 
 moved from her intention ; she contested firmly, and if 
 she gave way, it was, as he was aware, out of respect 
 for his position as the head of the house, rather than from 
 any wavering in her own convictions. Godfrey realised 
 by degrees that he had never known a woman with so 
 confident a mind or with such settled opinions. She was 
 not fond of argument, which she considered to be in 
 bad taste, but her silence and her gentle resistance were 
 more effectual than floods of logic. He was driven to 
 suppose that her nature reposed on bases so firm and 
 simple as not to suffer any doubts or vexations of faith. 
 This, indeed, was to suppose her lacking in imagination, 
 which he was loath to do, particularly when he listened 
 to her playing on the piano, and was witness to the flush 
 of enthusiasm, and the spiritualisation of face which her 
 themes provoked. He was not then to know that it was 
 more the specific skill of the composer that made its 
 appeal to a true technical musician than any such vague 
 and undisciplined inspiration as might inflame his own 
 mind. 
 
 It was beyond doubt that his wife was of assistance 
 to him in his new sphere. She was practical and she 
 was conscientious, and she was observant of facts, three 
 admirable qualities with which to combat the world.
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE 295 
 
 Moreover, she had a disposition towards works of charity, 
 natural in her, and fostered by her serious training. She 
 blossomed at Pontrack as a Lady Bountiful, who rolled 
 by in her great carriage, fair as the moon, delicate, 
 patrician, whom the breath of nothing coarse or common 
 must defile. She was admired and appreciated by the 
 townsfolk and the tenants as a great lady, as a lovely 
 woman, and as a kind patroness. It was this quality 
 of refinement which impressed observers, whether they 
 were her neighbours or her tradesmen. The fastidious- 
 ness of her taste was reflected gradually in her house, 
 and insensibly every act of the servants, every detail of 
 the service, each separate appointment of the rooms, 
 became marked with this characteristic. The chambers 
 of the Castle, which had long slumbered in rude 
 mediaevalism, cried out now for elegance, for distinction, 
 for something away from the common and the vulgar. 
 Yet this fastidiousness was, as Godfrey was to discover, 
 not often founded upon any secure base ; it was built upon 
 the decisions of others, and entrenched about with line 
 on line of conventions. Dirt, uncleanness, shame, sexual 
 immorality . . . Lady Merivale winced at what these 
 words represented, and at some of the words themselves. 
 They had become to her formulas, abominable in them- 
 selves, almost by their very sound and shape . . . there 
 was no pardon for them, not, at least, on this side of 
 the grave. 
 
 For Barbara Merivale was sincerely religious, if she 
 was not so particular as to the forms of religion as 
 she proved in other matters. This inconsistency came 
 of that refusal to reason which was the origin of her 
 obstinacy and the cause of her strength. She was sure, 
 because she lacked imagination. Here the disparities of 
 the natures of husband and wife were early evident. 
 Godfrey's mind was modern, inquisitive, and restless, 
 even rebellious ; while his wife accepted her creed with
 
 296 GODFREY MER1VALE 
 
 the placidity of a child, and followed its injunctions with 
 dove-like patience. It was but natural that between 
 these contrary natures some occasions for misunder- 
 standing should arise ; but the affection in which Godfrey 
 held his wife, and his pride in her, together with her 
 complete and sincere sense of duty, combined to make 
 little of these. One such encounter ended in irritation 
 on his part and forgiveness on hers, and he somewhat 
 unkindly thanked Heaven below his breath that the serene 
 isolation of Pontrack was to be broken by a visitor. This 
 was Aline, who remained Barbara's friend, and, so far as 
 she could confide, her confidante. Godfrey liked Aline, 
 and believed that in turn she liked him. She was 
 franker to him now than she had been in the old days, 
 and he recognised Lady George in her growing attitude. 
 But still there were things which she, a tender maiden, 
 might not know. Aline brought news from town about 
 many people, for she loved gossip, and had some things 
 to whisper in Barbara's private ear. Lady George would 
 not have been so reticent, but Lady George had a stronger 
 share of Merivale blood, and was, moreover, middle-aged 
 and married. The scandals which Aline had brought 
 down from London, and which were neither very definite 
 nor very monstrous, were mainly rumours about two 
 women, both acquaintances of Godfrey. Lady Marvel, 
 it was said, was making a fool of a Serene Highness from 
 Germany, and it was amazing that Sir Richard did not 
 stop it ; while Mrs. Ormerod (ne'e Heywood) was behaving 
 disgracefully with Sir Archibald Tower. Although the 
 reports were not mentioned to Godfrey, they were un- 
 doubtedly responsible for bringing up Lady Marvel's name. 
 With a heart that throbbed steadily, and enveloped in the 
 wholesome content of his new life, Godfrey commended 
 the lady's wit and passed an encomium on her beauty. 
 "On the whole the most handsome woman in London," 
 he declared critically and with cold judgment.
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE 297 
 
 It is impossible to fathom the secrets that the private 
 chambers of a woman's heart may hold and guard even 
 from herself. How much did Barbara know or guess 
 or suspect of her husband's friendship with Lady 
 Marvel? Well, at any rate she took fire coldly, as she 
 was wont. 
 
 "She may be beautiful," she said, "but she is a woman 
 I would not have in my house." 
 
 Godfrey stared in astonishment, but pale beauty was 
 now flushed with indignation. 
 
 " Oh, come, Barbara ! " he protested. 
 
 "I certainly wouldn't," she emphasised her statement. 
 "That kind of woman is very well for those who can put 
 up with her. I would certainly not enter her house." 
 
 Her husband laughed. He had no desire to welcome 
 Lady Marvel to his hearth just then. "Oh, well," he 
 said, "have your own way. But she is no worse than 
 nine-tenths of the people you are accustomed to associate 
 with unless," he added, with a touch of irony, "it is 
 that she has been half found out." 
 
 His irony usually annoyed his wife, who was unable 
 always to follow it ; but on this occasion she held her 
 tongue, and glanced at Aline across the table. That 
 young lady's face was a model of expressionless tact, 
 but her gaze went more than once to Godfrey subsequently 
 in frank wonder. 
 
 Here, then, was a wife strongly entrenched in her proper 
 place, the heart of her husband, and affectionately assist- 
 ing him in his work. The combination which had come 
 about almost by accident seemed surely the most felicitous ; 
 it was pronounced by friends to be an ideal marriage, 
 and some were found to envy both. Yet by reason of 
 the reticence of both it appeared perhaps more perfect 
 a union than it really was. Barbara Merivale was 
 not Barbara Darling ; the latter had passed for ever, 
 and the properties which beseemed the one might no
 
 298 GODFREY MERIVALE 
 
 longer become the other. Barbara shrank too fearfully from 
 realities ; she was compact of modesty, most respectable, 
 and most embarrassing-. She kept an even course through 
 the year, with a clean and passionless spirit, until Godfrey 
 was almost tempted to charge her with frigidity. But 
 she was gracious, and she was, above all, kindly ; it was 
 no fault of hers that no warm fire kindled in her. No ; 
 he could have excused all (he thought) if she had not 
 been so obstinate. She clung tenaciously to what was 
 her own her opinions, her tastes, her rights and she 
 clung very prettily. Her face lit up brightly when she 
 smiled . . . and her soul shone ... at least there was 
 that in the eyes that shone forth and fascinated him. It 
 may have been her soul. 
 
 Godfrey had thrilled deeply at that whispered assent in 
 Lady Hayling's room ; he was to thrill even deeper yet, 
 and, oddly enough, at another crowded rout in town. 
 The occasion was chosen by Fortune in her freakish 
 humour. Lady Merivale was surrounded by a circle of 
 admirers ; she had played faultlessly, and was receiving 
 congratulations. 
 
 "It is far above amateur form," was the comment that 
 went about from tongue to tongue. The praise had 
 brought a warmth into Barbara's face, and she sat, 
 looking like a saint tinged with humanity. Yet when 
 she rose she turned white, and staggered, and it was 
 upon her husband's arm that she fell by the grace and 
 accident of Heaven. He bore her away amid the solici- 
 tude of the company, and put a glass of wine to her 
 lips. 
 
 "My dear, you overdo it," he said. "You take too 
 much out of yourself when you play." 
 
 She drank of the wine, and turned on him almost 
 angrily. 
 
 "You ought to know, you ought to know. It isn't 
 that," she said.
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE . 299 
 
 He stared. " What ! " he cried in bewilderment. 
 
 "Take me away ! " she commanded abruptly. 
 
 " Oh, my dear, my dear," he murmured, and in a queer 
 
 and unintelligible ecstasy, " Child, child ! Why did I not 
 know ? " 
 
 Lady Merivale showed some of the conventional marks 
 of confusion, proper to such circumstances, on her arrival 
 at home. She was timid where she had been irritable, 
 and yielded to his outstretched arm. 
 
 " It shall be a son," said he, embracing her softly. 
 
 " Not yet, not yet," she answered, shrinking, as it were, 
 from the thought as well as from the fact. The divine 
 shame became her. He drew her nearer and whispered 
 in her ears. 
 
 "No, no," she murmured. "Let me go, Godfrey. 
 I am tired," and passed from him in the same sweet 
 embarrassment, yet returned the once to bid him a gentle 
 good night. 
 
 With the birth of the heir of that house Lady Merivale 
 was finally established on her throne, and Sir Godfrey's 
 life seemed finally settled for him. 
 
 Lady Merivale had by degrees extended her authority 
 into regions where her husband exercised an indifferent 
 rule. She practically controlled the character and quality 
 of their guests, as of her own friends and acquaintances. 
 He had pointed out with mild irony on more than one 
 occasion that as the house partly belonged to him he did 
 not wish his particular friends excluded. But Barbara's 
 answer invariably disarmed him. 
 
 " By all means, Godfrey. Ask whom you will, but you 
 can't expect me to like them. I will be civil to them, 
 as of course you would be to any of my friends you didn't 
 like." 
 
 "Oh, I like all your friends, my dear," Godfrey would 
 say, laughing ; and really the matter was of small con- 
 sequence as a rule.
 
 300 GODFREY MERIVALE 
 
 She could not, however, be brought to open her doors 
 to the Heywoods, save on terms of the most distant 
 acquaintance. She did not like the set, as she declared, 
 and insensibly drew her husband away with her. The 
 women he had known were fading from his life, diminish- 
 ing in importance and interest, even in his own thoughts. 
 He had received one or two letters from Lady Marvel, 
 and these he had burnt. They were sprinkled with 
 delicate French and roused in him impatience. He did 
 not now walk in circles where he would encounter her, 
 and on the whole he was glad. He had become a family 
 man, pretty well contented with his destiny. 
 
 He had once or twice overruled his wife in the matter 
 of his friends, and his proposal to invite Mr. and Mrs. 
 Ormerod to a dinner-party had sown dissensions for a few 
 days. Yet he had his way, and Barbara had behaved 
 handsomely, never suggesting by outward signs her dis- 
 taste for Ellice. Indeed to Godfrey himself it seemed 
 that Mrs. Ormerod had not improved. Her boldness had 
 grown on her with married life, and she was increasingly 
 restless ; she had the effect of being coarsened in texture, 
 though handsomer in looks than ever. The impression 
 left on him was strengthened by the incident which must 
 be set down here as one of the most influential events 
 in Godfrey Merivale's life. 
 
 Madness, the wild naturalness of the desperate animal, 
 it may be, prompted the step. It was a summer night, 
 and Godfrey in his room was stretched idly before the 
 open window reading a magazine. To him came a 
 servant with news of a lady, and presently, hooded, veiled, 
 and gowned in evening raiment, Ellice Ormerod stood 
 before him. Barbara had retired to her room. He gazed 
 at her, puzzled and even startled. 
 
 "Mrs. Ormerod! " 
 
 "Why not?" she asked almost defiantly, and threw 
 back her cloak, as if she would defy him with her beauty 
 also.
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE 301 
 
 " I'm very glad," he said lamely, and after an awkward 
 pause, "Won't you sit? I've been reading an article on 
 'Jams.' You see how useful I am now." 
 
 She laughed awkwardly. "Jams! Yes, now you are 
 useful, I suppose. You have outlived the ornamental," 
 she added, with what he recognised as bitterness. 
 
 She settled herself into a chair and leaned her chin 
 upon her arm, gazing at him with animation. 
 
 " I cannot say the same of you," he returned politely, 
 but his fingers fidgeted behind him. He wondered what 
 brought her at such an untimely hour. 
 
 " Did you hear that Mabel's going to marry Colonel 
 Valance," she asked abruptly. " She missed Lord 
 Glassbury," and Ellice laughed not at all merrily. 
 
 "Perhaps," suggested Godfrey, for the sake of con- 
 versation, "perhaps it is a good thing she missed 
 Lord Glassbury." 
 
 " Of course I didn't come here to discuss Mabel's 
 affairs with you, did I?" she demanded lightly. "I 
 wonder why on earth I did come. Oh yes, I know. You 
 were very kind to me when we dined here last month. 
 You were always kind to me. If you had been kinder ! " 
 she broke out with impetuous bitterness. 
 
 " Mrs. Ormerod ! " he exclaimed. 
 
 "It is true," she said, with her old fierce frankness, 
 "if you had asked me, what you might have done once ! " 
 
 Godfrey hesitated, and then decided not to feign 
 ignorance. 
 
 " It would never have been possible," he answered ; 
 "you knew it as well as I. Neither of us anticipated 
 this." 
 
 His gesture indicated the room, the house, the change, 
 but she struck her hand on her breast. 
 
 "You mean this," she cried scornfully. "Oh no, 
 neither of us anticipated this. But nothing is impossible 
 but thinking makes it so, You would have liked to. I
 
 302 GODFREY MERIVALE 
 
 know you would. You dare not say you would not," she 
 said, with savage exultation. 
 
 He answered nothing. 
 
 "It was an act of cowardice, Godfrey Merivale," she 
 said vehemently. " I call Heaven to witness you might 
 have saved me." 
 
 " Saved you ! " he echoed in dismay. 
 
 " Yes," she said, " but I haven't come here to reproach 
 you. I have spoken to you merely with the veil asunder 
 as between man and woman. I don't know why I came ; 
 I only came because you are kind, and because I well, 
 it's no use thinking of that." 
 
 Godfrey remembered some scandalous gossip. "You 
 are in trouble," he said. " Has Ormerod " 
 
 " Oh, of course there will be trouble," she said wearily. 
 " But there isn't yet only for me." She looked at him. 
 "What shall I do? What shall I do? " she cried, of a 
 sudden struck with panic, trembling and wringing her 
 hands. 
 
 " My dear Mrs. Ormerod," said Godfrey, taking a step 
 towards her, "there is only one thing to do in the world, 
 I believe. Be honest. Whatever it costs, be honest." 
 
 "You mean " she asked. 
 
 "To both, to either, to yourself," he said. 
 
 "No, no," she cried, " I have not the courage. Who 
 would have the courage, brought up as I have been ? 
 See," she continued, turning her wild eyes on him, 
 "Mabel will marry her Colonel and live happy ever 
 afterwards. Ethel will take her lord ; and yet I am worth 
 them a dozen times over, and I shall perish. I could 
 throw up everything, I believe. I would have thrown up 
 everything for you. At least I have a heart." 
 
 The abandon, the magnificent egoism, and the despair 
 of the wayward woman touched his sympathy, although 
 he did not acquiesce in her view of what she might have 
 done. He saw her fearful of shipwreck, and would have
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE 303 
 
 saved her. In the momentary silence that ensued he 
 heard the door creaking, and their heads turned swiftly 
 to see Lady Merivale on the threshold of the room. He 
 was voiceless, and stood merely contemplating her, but 
 Mrs. Ormerod came forward, and he knew not how it 
 had happened that her cloak was about her, and her hood 
 drooped over her hair. She moved as swiftly as some 
 feral creature in the woods. 
 
 " Lady Merivale, I am so sorry to have bothered your 
 husband at so late an hour," she said; "but, indeed, 
 I need not have troubled you too. He has been good 
 enough to give me advice on some business matters. He 
 has always given me advice, and I'm sorry I've not always 
 taken it. On this occasion I'm not going to take it 
 either," she said, with a reckless glance at the man ; and 
 without more ado she went forth, leaving husband and 
 wife confronting one another.
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 "T)ERHAPS we may take leave to doubt if Ellice 
 _L Ormerod had realised in what a predicament she 
 would plunge Godfrey. She was not given to elaborate 
 reflections, managing her life, as indeed appears herein, 
 with more vivacity than introspection, and with a certain 
 inconsiderate boldness. But the situation in which she 
 left Godfrey signally compromised him in the eyes of his 
 wife, who was not essentially of a jealous nature. The 
 jealousy, in point of fact, as will be recognised by those 
 who have grasped her character, was likely to arise out 
 of a smaller feeling than wounded affection. She was 
 tenacious, she had her property, she would keep her 
 bargain ; and there is no woman in the world who would 
 not yield to injured vanity, whether under the influence 
 of a high passion or not. It is hardly necessary to say 
 that Lady Merivale was not under any influence of the 
 sort, and her attitude to her husband was dictated by 
 cold suspicion. It is sometimes the wiser course to 
 conceal the truth when appearances are too gravely 
 hostile to one ; and at other times confession may reward 
 the frank. Godfrey would have chosen frankness had 
 it been possible to use Mrs. Ormerod's confidence, but 
 it was not, and he was silent, allowing himself merely 
 the privilege of some asperity towards the woman who 
 had involved him in a vulgar domestic disagreement. 
 
 "It is true. She came to ask my advice," he said 
 irritably. "And I wish to God she had stayed away. 
 I'm not a paid Queen's Counsel." 
 
 304
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE 305 
 
 Barbara's disapproval of the Heywoods came to a head 
 in this unhappy incident. 
 
 " If she wanted to see you, I should suppose she might 
 have chosen a different time," she said coldly. 
 
 "I quite agree," he said laconically, and added, "but 
 it's quite in keeping with her character." 
 
 "I was not aware she had any," said Lady Merivale 
 primly. 
 
 Her husband shrugged his shoulders. The worst was 
 over, and Barbara might abuse Ellice Ormerod as much 
 as she wished. He was content to slip out of the scrape 
 with so little damage, and certainly owed Ellice no loyalty. 
 After all, it would be unreasonable not to excuse Barbara 
 her sense of annoyance, as unreasonable as it would be 
 on her part to suspect him of a clandestine meeting with 
 another woman in his own house. She was not guilty of 
 that injustice, but, [as she disliked Mrs. Ormerod, and 
 remembered that her husband did not, this nocturnal 
 interview necessarily increased her distaste for the woman, 
 and sensibly affected her attitude to him. 
 
 After the incident the air of the household perceptibly 
 changed ; there seemed more space and distance in it ; 
 the family was no longer that loosely cohering core of 
 three lives husband, wife, and child but the members 
 began to separate and to move singly and with individual 
 motion. Barbara herself was not aware of this, but the 
 man recognised it slowly. 
 
 The child, indeed, stood between them, belonging to 
 both and partaking in each life. To Godfrey he became 
 very shortly the one momentous fact of his marriage, 
 while to his mother he remained the heir to the title and 
 estates, and the justification of her existence where she 
 was, the witness of her accomplished duty. She was 
 kind and tender to him ; she protected him with all the 
 powers of her observant and punctilious nature, and she 
 was proud of him as the heir of the Merivales, and proud 
 x
 
 306 GODFREY MERIVALE 
 
 therewith of Barbara, Lady Merivale, his mother. She 
 laid upon herself more than ever the twin duties of 
 rearing- the heir and of presiding with dignity as the 
 wife of the reigning Merivale. 
 
 The more she withdrew the less Godfrey exacted of her, 
 and the clearer he began to see, not only into his wife's 
 being, but also into the future. Her kindliness rarely 
 failed, and she was exigent of justice up to the limits 
 of her knowledge. He believed that she honestly tried 
 very hard to take his point of view, and failed ; for she 
 would have frankly admitted that, as he was the head 
 of the house, his views deserved consideration, and that 
 her duty was to strive to follow them as nearly as was 
 consistent with her conscience. They differed widely on 
 the score of religion, which did not very much matter 
 to Godfrey, but they were poles apart on the subject of 
 morality, which mattered a great deal. It is the working 
 rules of life which are of moment, and not so much 
 theories and principles, the practice of which is seldom 
 called for. At times he was irritated by her complacent 
 attitude towards these great questions into open anger, 
 when his exhibition was received with patient sadness. 
 She retired slowly but steadfastly upon her isolation, and 
 it seemed that very soon the curtains of her privacy 
 would have fallen about her, and she would have dis- 
 appeared for ever. The truth peeped through the chinks 
 and had a demoralising effect upon Godfrey. Yet the 
 next day he would rekindle his sentiment for his wife 
 at one of her kindnesses. She had not Lady Hayling's 
 terror of Aunt Edith, and suggested that Mrs. Fardell 
 should pay them a visit at Pontrack. During the visit 
 she was an admirable hostess and a gracious patroness. 
 
 " She's as pretty as a picture," said Mrs. Fardell in 
 enthusiasm. "I always told you to marry her. And 
 that darling boy's the very moral of you." 
 
 "I'm afraid," suggested Godfrey, "I'm afraid, dear,
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE 307 
 
 I'm not worthy of her," and he uttered a tiny sigh, which 
 provoked his aunt to indignation. 
 
 " Not worthy !" she cried, with scorn. "I like that! 
 You're worth anyone, my dear, even a princess, for the 
 matter of that, you with your title and that. She's a 
 .lucky girl to get you that's what I say ; and between 
 you and me, Godfrey, I am so glad you got rid of that 
 Lady What's-her-name. Oh, she was a fair caution ! " 
 
 The amazing laxity of Sir Godfrey's opinions brought 
 the husband and wife to a conflict in Aunt Edith's pre- 
 sence. It arose over the indiscreet affection of a maid- 
 servant, who had paid the toll with disgrace and dismissal, 
 and seemed likely now to carry her shame through life in 
 that district. The man broke out against the sentence, 
 and Barbara's soft-lidded eyes shot a deprecating glance 
 at him, as if they would emphasise Mrs. Fardell's 
 presence. 
 
 " Hang it, Barbara, what does it matter? " he said, his 
 irritation, which had been long in gathering, breaking its 
 banks. " I suppose we are three human beings who can 
 discuss these matters sensibly. The girl is a fool, and 
 probably a vain fool, and most certainly an empty-headed 
 fool, and I am willing to believe a worthless fool, but 
 I'll be hanged if she deserves what she is to get. If she 
 has made a fool of herself, let the poor creature down 
 lightly." 
 
 " I don't call it making a fool of herself," said Lady 
 Mervale, with gentle decision. "Things of that sort 
 deserve a different description." 
 
 " Well, I'll call it misfortune that's the usual word, I 
 believe," said he. 
 
 " It's a question of morality," said Lady Merivale 
 acidly. "A sin " 
 
 At that he lost his wavering equanimity. Good Lord ! " 
 he cried, " don't you see it's the most venial offence in the 
 world, if it is one of the most embarrassing? Nature
 
 308 GODFREY MERIVALE 
 
 dictates, not your miserable pack of conventions conven- 
 tions excellent in their way, I have no doubt." 
 
 But here Aunt Edith strove to allay the rising storm. 
 
 " Poor young thing! " she said sympathetically. " Well, 
 you know, she should have got married, Godfrey." 
 
 "The Church " said Lady Merivale. 
 
 " Oh yes, she ought to have gone to church, of course," 
 he agreed bitterly. " But I would rather excuse her with 
 her blunder if she blundered out of sentiment, than her 
 sister who did not blunder and had no sentiment." 
 
 " Really, Godfrey ! " said Lady Merivale, with an angry 
 laugh. 
 
 Her remonstrance rarely reached the height of anger, 
 and he took fresh fire from her resentment. 
 
 "Yes," he said sharply, "for a woman who marries 
 without it is no better than a " 
 
 " My dear ! " cried Aunt Edith anxiously. 
 
 "A piece of furniture, Aunt Edith; ornamental, ot 
 course, that is bought at an auction," and smiling on the 
 words, he walked abruptly from the room. 
 
 There, indeed, was the trouble, as he cried in his angry 
 soul. She would not see, she could not see, what she 
 really was, in the light of right thinking. She thought 
 she had a claim to her position, for which the one thing 
 she could not give would have been the single excuse. 
 The discovery, so slow in dawning, at first amazed him, 
 then irritated him ; it was to be accepted later in quite 
 another way. But that way lay through events of some 
 moment. 
 
 The rumour came posting over hill and moor from 
 London, and swelling as it rolled. It descended upon 
 the Riding, spread into country houses, and was debated 
 in the billiard-rooms and over tumblers. Finally, it 
 reached the tender ears of Barbara Merivale through the 
 kind offices of Mrs. Edworth, who had the insensitive 
 frankness of the Merivale blood. It was said in the
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE 309 
 
 clubs, and had even been whispered below the breath 
 in certain journals, that Edward Ormerod was running 
 wildly about in search of a co-respondent. 
 
 " Quite time he did," said public comment on the one 
 side. 
 
 " He needn't look far," was the caustic rejoinder. 
 
 " Oh, I daresay he'll manage to nose him out," laughed 
 cynical Society. 
 
 " She wouldn't tell when the blow fell. ..." 
 
 " I can't blame her. He's such a damned fool. ..." 
 
 "Good Lord! fancy a man having to go about with 
 a candle to find what's under his nose ! He must be a 
 damned fool. ..." 
 
 Not all these opinions and certainly not all these 
 phrases came to Lady Merivale's ears, but the news 
 was sufficient in its first bare outline to stiffen her in- 
 sensibly. This was the woman her husband had insisted 
 upon inviting to their table ! He took the tale without 
 surprise, and with a renewal of the compassion he had 
 felt for her when she poured forth her folly. 
 
 "I shall doubtless not convince you, Barbara," he 
 observed with unnecessary satire, "but Mrs. Ormerod 
 is probably a better woman than a more virtuous one. I 
 am sorry if there's going to be trouble." 
 
 The incidence of the trouble he was yet to learn, and 
 with amazement. Lady Merivale had a cold answer 
 which went beyond her usual good taste. 
 
 " I can understand your views and your defence," she 
 said, "even better perhaps than you think." 
 
 " Oh, we shall never agree," he said wearily. " Let us 
 change the subject." 
 
 The subject, however, was one that persisted, and 
 intruded a day or two later with abominable additions. 
 This time it was Lady George who wrote, not to the 
 wife, but to the husband. " I suppose someone has 
 already told you of what Ormerod is doing. Do you
 
 3io GODFREY MERIVALE 
 
 know that your name is mentioned among others, of 
 course ? I only tell you to forewarn you. I suppose it's 
 all right, or at any rate was an old affair. I hope so. 
 I never thought much of her." 
 
 Here, again, was the callous Merivale on exhibition, 
 yet with kindly intent. Godfrey was thrown into a state 
 between extremes of rage and contempt. The thought 
 of a man rushing about to fix horns on his head struck 
 him into a laughter, which he would not have felt had 
 his own name not been bruited. Public talk took too 
 gross liberties with him, he said furiously, but, contempt 
 gaining the upper hand in that intestine struggle, he 
 unwisely betrayed his gossip with laughter to Lord 
 Woodroffe. Back it flowed to Pontrack Castle with 
 Lady Woodroffe for conduit, and Barbara listened with 
 rigid face and frozen manner. She did not welcome 
 the unpleasant news, but thanked Lady Woodroffe with 
 dignity for acquainting her with what it was obviously 
 necessary for her to know. 
 
 "But, my dear, do you think it's true?" asked Lady 
 Woodroffe, who was resolved to push past that dead wall. 
 
 " I have no means of judging," said Lady Merivale. 
 
 "To take it like that ! " cried Lady Woodroffe to her 
 husband later. "One would imagine she had no interest 
 in it whatsoever." 
 
 But Lady Woodroffe was wrong, and Barbara's interest 
 in it was so considerable that her conduct discovered her 
 knowledge of the story to her husband. He breathed 
 some denunciation of Woodroffe, and broached the 
 subject, feeling sorry for any annoyance to which she 
 might have been subjected. 
 
 "I see you know, Barbara," he said kindly. "I had 
 not meant to tell you, so as to spare you the ridiculous 
 annoyance." 
 
 " I can well understand that you had no intention of 
 telling me," she replied.
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE 311 
 
 He fenced about the subject, and at last flew to anger. 
 
 "Good God! Barbara, do you mean to say you don't 
 believe me ? " 
 
 " I have no means of judging-," she answered, as she 
 had answered Lady Woodroffe, remembering Ellice 
 Ormerod in her cloak and her impudence. 
 
 "Is that the way you take it?" he cried, using in 
 his turn almost the identical words of Lady Woodroffe, 
 but in the white heat of passion, " I have the honour to 
 inform you of the facts," he said. 
 
 "The facts, no doubt, will come out," she said, and 
 her voice now had lost its equable tone and betrayed 
 bitterness, which signified "we shall be dragged in 
 the mud." 
 
 It seemed as if Lady Merivale was right, for the week 
 witnessed the arrival of a solicitor with a citation. The 
 irritable side of Godfrey's character was now erect. 
 The silence of his wife maddened him. He almost 
 kicked the unhappy lawyer from the door, and he vowed 
 destruction to Ormerod. This was the farcical aspect 
 of the embroglio. So far as Ormerod, the lawyer, and 
 the judges of the court were concerned, they might be 
 damned this was his message to the tremulous solicitor. 
 But hard words would not mend the case, and did not, as 
 a matter of fact. It was only mended by soothing the 
 wild Ormerod, a process accomplished gradually by his 
 friends. There must be no scandal, and if the scandal 
 must come, there must be no bungling. The citations, 
 discharged like cards of invitation over the broad face of 
 the country, must be withdrawn, and the proper person 
 must be sought. If Ormerod could not find him, his 
 friends were in another case. In point of fact, the 
 scandal did not descend, but that is of little consequence 
 to this history. Lady Merivale went about, secure now 
 in the belief that she could, if laws allowed it, make a 
 most admirable witness for the petitioner. She harboured
 
 3 i2 GODFREY MERIVALE 
 
 malice against Ellice Ormerod beyond the custom of her 
 heart ; for that which one does not value for its own sake, 
 one will fight for as one's right, and at least prevent 
 others from enjoying. 
 
 Godfrey was painfully aware of her distrust ; he recog- 
 nised that she did not credit his statements, and was 
 resigned to her disbelief. He felt at times even sorry 
 for the wound the publicity must inflict upon her pride. 
 And still he looked into the coldness of those eyes 
 those romantic eyes, those innocent eyes, as he had 
 thought them three years since ! He had not approached 
 the matter in any way, since, to an impassioned appeal 
 for her confidence, she had said 
 
 " I am not judging you. I hope I know better than 
 to judge people. I suppose men do these things. I 
 accept what you say," in which her incredulity was 
 surely emphasised. 
 
 He left Pontrack not only in a state of indignation at 
 the grotesque blunder, but also with a definite distaste 
 of his wife. But the first news which met him in London, 
 where he went to take action, was of the collapse of the 
 Ormerod case. By a chance he learned this from Lady 
 Marvel, whom he met at dinner. 
 
 "You will be interested to hear that Teddy Ormerod 
 has thrown up the sponge," she said idly. 
 
 "I'm certainly a good deal interested," he answered 
 grimly. 
 
 She glanced at him askance, but there was no oppor- 
 tunity to follow up the topic, although the chance came 
 an evening or so later. The obvious had happened. 
 Returned to town, a bachelor, Godfrey returned also to 
 some old familiars, once rejected and disowned. They 
 would have welcomed him back for his own sake, not 
 to say out of curiosity to learn what had happened. And 
 so within three days he encountered Cynthia twice. The 
 second time she touched him boldly on the raw.
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE 313 
 
 " Well, I suppose you're relieved? " she said. 
 "Damnably! if I may quote Lord Byron," he said 
 drily. 
 
 "And of course it isn't true," she added, watching 
 him. 
 
 He turned on her amused eyes, for he was in good 
 spirits. 
 
 " My dear Lady Marvel, if it weren't true I should say 
 no, of course, and if it were, I should say no also. What 
 else could I do?" 
 
 "It is of no importance," she said indifferently. 
 "But I should like merely out of curiosity to know 
 
 when " 
 
 He interrupted her with impatience. 
 " Don't you see it was a lie ? " he jerked forth. 
 " I suppose that's carrying out the contract you ex- 
 pressed just now," she nodded. 
 
 He exclaimed with annoyance, for, indeed, it was more 
 
 than hard that he should be disbelieved by another woman. 
 
 " I suppose all women will disbelieve," he said angrily. 
 
 Lady Marvel drew her conclusion. "I see," she said 
 
 slowly, and to herself, "she has turned, like a virtuous 
 
 wife. She has lost him." 
 
 Yet Godfrey travelled down to Yorkshire in growing 
 good humour. It pleased him that the nuisance had been 
 so easily settled, and now that it was over, he thought 
 of Barbara more kindly, and found excuses for her want 
 of faith. She was upset, she was angry, of course, she 
 was jealous. Indeed, but jealousy may be compact of 
 strange sentiments, not one of which is affection. What 
 was it, fretting in Barbara Merivale's mind, that in- 
 fluenced her reception of her husband as he came back 
 to Pontrack and domestic life, glowing with good pur- 
 poses and benevolence ? He introduced the matter of the 
 citation, in his honest belief that it was due to her to 
 tell her.
 
 3M GODFREY MERIVALE 
 
 "The whole affair's at an end," he said, perhaps 
 awkwardly. " The fool has come to his senses." 
 
 "You are referring- to the case of Mrs. Ormerod," said 
 Barbara very distinctly and dispassionately, but yet as 
 one who would not spare herself or him a syllable. 
 
 "Ormerod has withdrawn and apologised," he said, 
 with a sense of discomfort. 
 
 "Apologised!" she raised her brows. "Well, it's a 
 good thingf you went to London. I am very glad." 
 
 "Good heavens! Barbara, you don't imagine "he 
 
 cried in distress and astonishment. 
 
 A tiny smile displayed her teeth. "It is satisfactory 
 to know that it has all been settled comfortably," she said 
 in a level voice. The smile enraged him again, although 
 he had resolved to keep his temper ; it seemed to warn 
 him not to pursue his hypocrisy, since it was unavailing. 
 
 "Do you suppose I squared it?" he asked, brutally 
 plain in his words. 
 
 " I do not think it is necessary to discuss so unsavoury 
 a subject," said Barbara coolly ; "now that it's over and 
 buried in oblivion, let it stay there." 
 
 " You are intolerable," he retorted, and left her. 
 
 This, of course, was not to pick up life again according 
 to his intention and desire, yet he took no action, and 
 settled down to work, while his spirit revolved restlessly 
 upon its disaffection. At times he wondered if Barbara 
 really believed what she conveyed to him that she 
 believed ; so cool and friendly and gracious was she. 
 They lived in the house like two friends who had had 
 a difference and agreed not to refer to it. The position, 
 as you see, was intolerable. When he came in from the 
 moors one evening, a week or so after his return, he 
 found a letter in a hand which recalled memories to him. 
 It was from Mrs. Strahan, and, involuntarily, as he broke 
 the seal his mind went to a letter which he carried in his 
 pocket from Cynthia Marvel, and which was unanswered.
 
 GODFREY MERIVALE 315 
 
 It had followed him from town. Laura's letter was most 
 prettily phrased and decorously friendly ; it appeared that 
 she desired to engage Sir Godfrey Merivale's interest 
 in a particular charity. Laura and charity ! He almost 
 laughed aloud, and recollected out of those years now 
 long garnered and gone, an elegant figure in lilac that 
 walked beside him in the Park. He thought upon those 
 distant scenes with a sad tenderness, for, after all, they 
 marked the change of an era, and had a sweet and 
 pleasant smell after so many seasons, like the faded 
 fragrance of old hay, or a forgotten rose, found between 
 the pages of a book that has not been opened for years. 
 The impression of Laura, as she had appeared before him 
 once, to dazzle him, always returned with a little thrill. 
 His musings turned slowly from her, and he took out 
 Lady Marvel's letter and re-read it. " Mon ami vient de 
 s'en alter" she wrote, in quotation of a little song they 
 had admired. He knew the line that followed. "That 
 was a long while since, though, my friend. I see Pon- 
 track keeps you in health and happiness. It is right for 
 you who are young. Women are older, always older 
 than men. The water is always going under London 
 Bridge, and we get older. It seems a pity, doesn't it? 
 . . . We go soon to Avernon. I'm glad we met again. 
 Sometimes one likes to see a ghost. It depends on one's 
 mood, of course. I dreamt last night that one came 
 clothed in the flesh, but I awoke, and it was only another 
 ghost. I opened a locket I have to make sure that I was 
 right. The face was the same, only a trifle older and 
 more confident. Je ne peux pas me consoler.'" 
 
 There was no signature. He put both letters in his 
 pocket and ascended the stairs. Passing along the 
 corridor which led by his wife's rooms in the twilight, 
 he paused outside the door of his boy's nursery. It was 
 ajar, and pushing it gently open he entered, and stood 
 for a moment gazing down on the dim, sleeping face upon
 
 316 GODFREY MERIVALE 
 
 the pillow. Breathing rustled softly in the room, and 
 from an inner chamber, where the nurse sat, issued a 
 steady sound of stitching. The potency of fatherhood 
 gathered in him a fierce emotion all of a sudden, and then 
 he perceived, in a shadow that stood at the head of the 
 bed and was mute and still, his wife. He put out his 
 arm instinctively. 
 
 " Barbara ! " he said in low, tense tones. 
 
 She winced from the touch, but, recovering herself, 
 stood obedient to his claim on her. He withdrew his 
 hand as swiftly. 
 
 "I beg your pardon, Barbara," he said. "I only 
 meant to come and tell you that I was going to town 
 to morrow, and" he dwelt on the words slowly "that 
 I am not going to stand at the election." > 
 
 Lady Merivale blanched slightly. 
 
 " I don't think that's very wise," she said. 
 
 "I'm sure it's not," said he, and left the room. 
 
 On his way to his study, to which he returned abruptly, 
 he was a prey to various feelings and cried out under 
 his breath. 
 
 It was in answer to Lady George's frank questions at a 
 later date that he said frankly 
 
 "Well, we've secured the heir, at least. And you can 
 reassure Lady Hayling about the blackamoors ..." and 
 again, with even less concealment, " She was always 
 virgin, and she remains so. It was a pity ever to have 
 experimented. It's ... it should be a canonical sin." 
 
 In the study he drew the letters from his pocket, sat 
 down to the bureau and answered both. Over the reply 
 to Lady Marvel he dwelt long and pensively. After which 
 
 he dressed for dinner. 
 
 
 
 THE END 
 
 PLYMOUTH: w. BRENDON AND SON. PRINTERS
 
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