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THE RALSTONS 
 
THE EALSTONS 
 
 BY 
 
 F. MARION CRAWFORD 
 
 AUTHOR OP "A ROMAN SINGER," "PIETRO GHISLBKI, 
 " KATHAKINK LAUUKKLIALE," BTC. 
 
 TWO VOLUMES IN ONE 
 
 THE MACMILLAN COMPANY 
 
 LONDON: MACMILLAN & CO., LTD. 
 1902 
 
 AU rights reserved 
 
-5 
 
 cm 
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1893, 
 BY F. MARION CRAWFORD. 
 
 Set up and electrotyped January, 1894. Printed December, 
 1894. Reprinted January, February twice, 1895. Two volumes 
 printed in one, June, 1899 ; July, 1902. 
 
 Twenty-second Thousand 
 
 J. S. Cushing & Co. - Berwick & Smith 
 Norwood Mass. U.S.A. 
 
\ 
 
 THE RALSTONS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 ALEXANDER LAUDERDALE JUNIOR was very 
 much exercised in spirit concerning the welfare 
 of his two daughters, of whom the elder was 
 Charlotte and the younger was Katharine. Char 
 lotte had been married, nearly two years before the 
 opening of this tale, to Benjamin Slayback, the 
 well-known member of Congress from Nevada, and 
 lived in Washington. Katharine was still at home, 
 living with her father and mother and grandfather, 
 in the old house in Clinton Place, in the city of 
 New York. 
 
 Mr. Lauderdale, the son of the still living phi 
 lanthropist, and the nephew of the latter s younger 
 brother, the great millionaire, Robert Lauderdale, 
 sat in his carefully swept, garnished and polished 
 office on a Saturday morning early in April. In 
 outward appearance, as well as in inward sym 
 pathy, he was in perfect harmony with his sur 
 roundings. He resembled a magnificent piece of 
 
 VOL. I. 1 1 
 
 155241 
 
Z THE RALSTONS. 
 
 mechanism exhibited in a splendid show-case a 
 spare man, extremely well proportioned, with a 
 severe cast of face, hard grey eyes, and a look 
 all over him which recalled a well-kept locomotive. 
 He sat facing the bright light which fell through 
 the clear plate glass. One of his hands, cool, 
 smooth, lean, lay perfectly still, spread out upon 
 the broad sheet of a type-written letter on the 
 table ; the other, equally motionless, hung idly 
 over his knee. They were grasping hands, with 
 long, curved nails, naturally highly polished. It 
 was not probable that the great Trust Company, 
 in which Alexander Junior held such an important 
 position, should ever lose the fraction of a frac 
 tional interest through any oversight of his. 
 
 So far as his own fortune was concerned, he 
 often said that he was poor. He lived in an old 
 house which had been his grandfather s and 
 father s in turn, but which, although his father 
 was alive and continued to live in it, had be 
 come his own property some years previous to 
 the beginning of this story. For Alexander 
 Lauderdale Senior was a philanthropist ; and 
 although his brother, the rich Robert, gave lib 
 erally toward the support of the institutions in 
 which he was interested, Alexander had little by 
 little turned everything he possessed into money, 
 applying it chiefly to the education of idiots. The 
 consequence was that he depended, almost uncon- 
 
THE R ALSTONS. 3 
 
 sciously, upon his only son for the actual necessi 
 ties of life. The old house was situated on the 
 north side of Clinton Place, which had never been 
 a fashionable street, though it lay in what had 
 once been a most fashionable neighbourhood. No 
 one need be surprised if the near relatives of such 
 a very rich man as Kobert Lauderdale lived very 
 quietly, so far as expenditure was concerned. He 
 was a very generous man, and would have done 
 much more for his nephew and the latter s family 
 if he had believed that they wished or expected it. 
 But in his sensible view, they had all they needed, 
 a good house, a sufficient amount of luxury, and 
 a very prominent position in society. He knew, 
 moreover, that, however much he might give, the 
 money would either find its way into the vast 
 charities in which his brother was interested, or 
 would disappear, as other sums and bits of prop 
 erty had disappeared before now, to some place 
 presumably one of safety of which his nephew 
 never spoke. For he suspercted that Alexander 
 Junior was not nearly so poor as he represented 
 himself to be, and he was not exactly pleased with 
 the fact that he himself was the only person before 
 whom Alexander Junior bowed down and offered 
 incense. 
 
 For this younger Lauderdale was a very rigid 
 man in almost all respects: in his religion, which 
 took the Presbyterian form, and took it in earnest; 
 
4 THE RALSTONS. 
 
 in his uprightness, which was cruelly sincere ; and 
 in his outward manner, which was in the highest 
 degree conventionally correct. 
 
 It was this extreme correctness which lay at the 
 root of his present troubles, since, in his opinion, 
 both his daughters had departed from it in oppo 
 site directions and in an almost equal degree. He 
 did not recognize himself in either of them, and, as 
 he believed his own character to be an excellent 
 model for his family, his vanity was wounded by 
 nature s perverseness. Furthermore, he distinctly 
 disliked that sort of social prominence which is 
 the portion of those who are not like the majority, 
 or who do not think with the majority and say so. 
 Both Mrs. Slayback and Miss Lauderdale attracted 
 attention in that way. 
 
 Mrs. Slayback was handsome and vain, and be 
 lieved herself to be proud in the better sense of the 
 word. She had married her husband for two rea 
 sons : because she found the paternal home intoler 
 able, and because, besides being rich, Benjamin 
 Slayback was thought to be a man who had a brill 
 iant future before him in the world of politics. 
 Charlotte had believed that she could rule him, 
 and herself become a power. In this she had 
 been disappointed at the outset, having been de 
 ceived by a certain almost childlike simplicity 
 of exterior, which was in reality one of Slayback s 
 strongest weapons. He admired her very much ; 
 
THE RALSTONS. 5 
 
 he looked up to her with admiration for her supe 
 rior social acquirements, and he treated her with a 
 sort of barbaric liberality to which she had not 
 been accustomed. But within himself he followed 
 his own political devices without consulting her, 
 and with a smiling reticence which convinced her 
 most unpleasantly that she was not intellectually 
 a match for him. This was all the more painful as 
 she considered him to be her social inferior, a 
 point of view which was popular with some of 
 her intimate friends in New York, but much less 
 so in Washington, and not at all in Nevada. 
 
 The immediate consequence of this state of 
 affairs was that Charlotte and her husband did 
 not agree. Both were disappointed, though in an 
 unequal measure. Slayback claimed that any 
 woman should be contented who had what he 
 gave his wife. Charlotte thought that she showed 
 great forbearance in not leaving a man whom she 
 could not rule. It was not worth while, she said 
 to herself, to have accepted a man who had, at her 
 first acquaintance with him, worn a green tie ; 
 whose speech at home was remarkable rather for 
 its burr than for its grammar, and who did 
 queer things with his knife and fork unless his 
 undeniable intelligence and force were to be at 
 her service in such a way as to make her feel that 
 she was at least as powerful a person as he. She 
 had condemned the green tie, and he had sub- 
 
6 THE E ALSTONS. 
 
 mitted, and she had successfully conveyed hints 
 against cutting fish and potatoes with a steel knife ; 
 but in the matter of grammar she had been less 
 successful. When Benjamin was on his legs on 
 the floor of the House, as he often was, he could 
 speak very well indeed, which made it all the 
 more unpleasant when he relapsed into the use of 
 dialect, not to say slang, at his own table. He 
 was a jovial man over his dinner, too, and she 
 particularly detested jovial men, especially when 
 they spoke English not altogether correctly. She 
 had vaguely hoped that Benjamin would be spoken 
 of as Mrs. Slayback s husband, but it had turned 
 out that, in spite of her beauty and brilliant con 
 versation, she was spoken of as Benjamin Slay- 
 back s wife. By way of outshining him. she had 
 conceived the plan of outshining everybody else 
 in matters of fashion and fashionable eccentricity. 
 She had spoken to more than one member of the 
 family of obtaining a divorce on the ground of 
 incompatibility of temper, which, she said, could 
 be managed in Nevada, since New York was so 
 absurdly strict about divorces. It was evidently 
 within the bounds of the possible that she might 
 have spoken in this sense to friends who were not 
 related to her, as her father knew. Altogether, he 
 was aware that she was talked of and he suspected 
 that she was laughed at. She had been seen to 
 smoke cigarettes, it was reported that she had 
 
THE R ALSTONS. 1 
 
 driven four-in-hand, and Alexander would have 
 been less surprised than shocked if he had heard 
 that she played poker with her intimates and bet 
 on horse-races. 
 
 It was hard that such a man should have such a 
 daughter, he thought, and that all this should be 
 the result of so much careful and highly correct 
 training and education. . It was harder still that 
 his younger child should be as completely out of 
 sympathy with him as her elder sister, especially 
 as Katharine outwardly resembled him, at least 
 a little, whereas Charlotte had inherited her fair 
 complexion from her mother. 
 
 Of the two, Katharine was the more difficult to 
 deal with, and he was glad that her peculiarities 
 were mental rather than outwardly manifested in 
 her behaviour, as her sister s were. But of their 
 kind, they were strong and caused him great anx 
 iety. There was a mystery about her thoughts, 
 too, which he could not fathom, and which influ 
 enced her conduct, as though she had some secret 
 motive for some of her actions and for many of 
 her opinions, which might, perhaps, have explained 
 both, but which she was not willing to divulge. 
 Katharine held views upon religion which were of 
 the most disquieting character, and Katharine flatly 
 refused to speak of being married. These were 
 Alexander Junior s principal grievances against her. 
 
 So far as the second of these was concerned, he 
 
8 THE EALSTONS. 
 
 might have found plenty of excuse for her, had he 
 sought it, in his own character. Whatever his 
 faults might be, he had been a very faithful man. 
 He had married Emma Camperdown, the famous 
 beauty from Kentucky, when they had both been 
 very young, and he had loved her all his life, in 
 spite of the fact that she was a Eoman Catholic 
 and he a very puritanically inclined Presbyterian 
 of the older school. Love that will bear the strain 
 of religious differences, when religious conviction 
 exists on both sides, must be of a very robust 
 nature, and Alexander s had borne it for a quarter 
 of a century. It was true that his wife, who had 
 been born a Catholic, was not aggressively devout ; 
 but in his view of the matter, her errors were 
 mortal ones, and the thought of her probable fate 
 in a future existence had really saddened the hard 
 man s life. But it had not diminished nor shaken 
 his love. About that, there was nothing romantic, 
 nor Quixotic, nor emotional. It had none of the 
 fine, outward qualities which often belong abun 
 dantly to transient passions. There was in it a 
 good deal of the sense of property, which was very 
 clearly defined with him, and he lacked in most 
 ways the delicacies and tendernesses which are the 
 rarest and most beautiful ornaments of the strong. 
 But such as it was, its endurance and good faith 
 were unquestionable. Indeed, endurance and up 
 rightness were Alexander s principal virtues. Both 
 
THE RALSTONS. 9 
 
 were genuine, and both were so remarkable as to 
 raise him high in the respect of his fellow-men. 
 If he had secrets, he had a right to keep them, for 
 they concerned nobody but himself, and he was 
 naturally reticent. 
 
 Katharine had some similar qualities. She had 
 loved her distant cousin, John Ralston, a long time, 
 and she was as faithful and enduring as her father. 
 Kalston loved her quite as dearly and truly, but 
 Alexander Junior would not have him for a son-in- 
 law, and had told him so in an exceedingly plain 
 and forcible manner. His objection was that Kals 
 ton seemed unable to do anything for himself, 
 and had, moreover, acquired a reputation for being 
 fast and dissipated. He was not rich, either. His 
 father, Admiral Ralston, had been dead several 
 years, and John lived with his mother on twelve 
 thousand a year. The young man, had made two 
 attempts at steady work and was now making his 
 third, the previous ones having resulted in his 
 leaving the lawyer s office in which he had placed 
 himself, at the end of three months, and the great 
 banking establishment of Beman Brothers, in Broad 
 Street, after a trial of only six weeks. He had now 
 gone back to Beman s, having been readmitted as 
 an especial favour to Mr. Robert Lauderdale, with 
 no salary and with an unlimited period of proba 
 tion before him. He was a popular young fellow 
 enough, but he was not what is called a promising 
 
10 THE RALSTONS. 
 
 youth, though his ways had improved considerably 
 during the last few months. Mr. Benian said that 
 he came regularly to the bank and seemed disposed 
 to work, but that his ignorance of business was 
 something phenomenal. Nevertheless, to please 
 old Robert the Rich, John Ralston was tolerated, 
 so long as he behaved himself properly. 
 
 And Katharine loved him, in spite of her father s 
 disapproval and her mother s good advice. For 
 during the preceding winter Mrs. Lauderdale, who 
 had once favoured the match, had gone over to the 
 enemy, and showed a very great and almost unbe 
 coming anxiety to see Katharine married. Hamil 
 ton Bright, another distant relative and the junior 
 partner of Bemaii Brothers, would have married 
 her at any moment, and he was a very desirable 
 man. The fact that he was a relative was in his 
 favour, too, for both he and Katharine would prob 
 ably in the end inherit a share of the enormous 
 Lauderdale fortune, and it would be as well that 
 the money should not go out of the family. Robert 
 Lauderdale had never married, and was now well 
 over seventy years of age, though his strength had 
 not as yet come to labour and sorrow. 
 
 Katharine did not talk of John Ralston. Espe 
 cially of late, she avoided saying anything about 
 him. But she would look at no one else, though she 
 had no lack of suitors besides Hamilton Bright, and 
 in spite of her reticence it was easy to see that her 
 
THE R ALSTONS. 11 
 
 feelings towards Ralston had not undergone any 
 change. Once, during the preceding winter, Alex 
 ander had been visited by a ray of hope. Ralston 
 had been reported by the newspapers as having got 
 into a bad scrape, winding up with an encounter 
 with a pugilist, and ending in his being brought 
 home by policemen in the middle of the night. It 
 had actually been said that he had been the worse 
 for too much champagne, and during a few hours 
 Mr. Lauderdale had hoped that Katharine would 
 be disgusted and would give him up. But it turned 
 out to have been all a mistake. jSTo less a person 
 age than the celebrated Doctor Routh had at once 
 written to the papers, stating that he had attended 
 John Ralston when he had been brought home, 
 that he had met with an accident, and that the cur 
 rent statements about his condition were utterly- 
 false and libellous. And there the matter had 
 ended. Alexander might congratulate himself 
 upon having got the alliance of his wife against 
 John, but their united efforts to move their 
 daughter had proved as fruitless as his own 
 had been when unassisted. 
 
 There was nothing for it but to wait patiently, 
 and to hope that she might forget her cousin in 
 the course of time. Meanwhile, another anxiety 
 presented itself, almost as serious, in her father s 
 opinion. She had been brought up as a Presbyte 
 rian, like her sister, in accordance with his wishes, 
 
12 THE R ALSTONS. 
 
 and in this respect Mrs. Lauderdale had been con 
 scientious, though her antagonism to her husband s 
 church was deep-seated and abiding. But of late 
 Katharine had begun to express very dangerous 
 and subversive opinions in regard to things in gen 
 eral and in respect of religion in particular. Her 
 mind seemed to have reached its growth and to 
 have entered upon its development. Katharine 
 was going astray after strange new doctrines, Alex 
 ander thought, and he did not like the savour of 
 mysticism in the fragments of her conversation 
 which he occasionally overheard. Though he could 
 not with equanimity bear to hear any one deny the 
 existence of the soul, he disliked almost more to 
 hear it spoken of as though humanity could have 
 anything to do with it directly, beyond believing in 
 its presence and future destiny. Whether this was 
 due to the form of the traditions in which he had 
 been brought up, or was the result of his own 
 exceedingly vague beliefs in regard to the soul s 
 nature, it is of no use to enquire. The fact was 
 the same in its consequences. He was very much 
 disturbed about Katharine s views, as he called 
 them, and at the same time he was conscious for 
 the first time in his life that no confidence existed 
 between her and him, and that their spheres of 
 thought on all subjects were separated by a blank 
 and impenetrable wall. 
 
 Then, too, Katharine had of late shown a strong 
 
THE R ALSTONS. 13 
 
 predilection for the society of Paul Griggs, a 
 man of letters and of considerable reputation, who 
 was said to have strange views upon many sub 
 jects, who had lived in many countries, and who 
 had about him something half mysterious, which 
 offended the commonplace respectability of Alex 
 ander Lauderdale s character. Not that Alexander 
 thought himself commonplace, and as for his re 
 spectability, it was of the solid kind which the 
 world calls social position, and which such people 
 themselves secretly look upon as the proud inheri 
 tance of an ancient and honourable family. Every 
 thing that Paul Griggs said jarred unpleasantly 
 on Alexander Lauderdale s single but sensitive 
 string, which was his conservatism. 
 
 Griggs disclaimed ever having had anything to 
 do with modern Buddhism, for instance. But he 
 had somehow got the reputation of being what peo 
 ple call a Buddhist when they know nothing of 
 Buddha. As a matter of fact, he happened to be 
 a Roman Catholic. But Mr. Lauderdale had heard 
 him use expressions which had fixed the popular 
 impression in his mind. The conversation of such 
 a man could not be good for an impressionable 
 girl like Katharine, he thought. He took it for 
 granted that Katharine was impressionable because 
 she was a girl and young. Mr. Griggs said very par 
 adoxical things sometimes, and Katharine quoted 
 them afterwards. Mr. Lauderdale hated paradox 
 
14 THE RALSTONS. 
 
 as he hated everything which was in direct oppo 
 sition to generally received opinion. It was most 
 disagreeable to him to hear that there was no such 
 thing as a future, as distinguished from past or 
 present, when so much of his private meditation 
 had for its object the definition of the future state 
 for himself and others. He did not like Mr. 
 Griggs way of referring to the popular idea of the 
 Supreme Being as a t magnified, non-natural man 
 and when Griggs quoted Dante s opinion in the 
 matter, Alexander Lauderdale set down Dante Ali- 
 ghieri as an insignificant agnostic, which was un 
 just, and branded Mr. Griggs as another, which 
 was an exaggeration. Now, whatever the truth 
 might be, he considered that Katharine was in 
 great danger, and that although Providence was 
 necessarily just, it might have shown more kind 
 ness and discretion in selecting the olive branches 
 it had vouchsafed to him. 
 
 It need hardly be said that of the two extremes 
 to which his daughters seemed inclined to go, he 
 preferred the one chosen by Katharine. That, at 
 least, gave no open offence. Morally, it was worse 
 to dissect the traditional soul as it had been handed 
 down in its accepted form through many genera 
 tions of religious men, than to smoke a cigarette 
 after a dinner party. But in practice, the effect of 
 the cigarette upon the opinion of society was out 
 of all proportion greater, and Charlotte was there- 
 
THE RALSTONS. 15 
 
 fore worse than Katharine, as a daughter, though 
 she might not be so bad when looked upon as a 
 subject for potential salvation. 
 
 All this disturbed Alexander Lauderdale very 
 much, for he saw no immediate prospect of any 
 improvement in the condition of things. For once 
 in his life his daughters were almost his chief 
 preoccupation. If he had been subject to absence 
 of mind, something might, perhaps, have got out 
 of order in the minute details of the Trust Com 
 pany s working. In that respect, however, he was 
 superior to circumstances. But when he was mo 
 mentarily idle, his mind reverted to its accustomed 
 channels, and the problem regarding the future of 
 his daughters got into the way and upset his finan 
 cial calculations, and made him really unhappy. 
 For his financial calculations were apparently of a 
 nature which made them pleasant to contemplate, 
 although he declared himself to be so very poor. 
 
 On that particular Saturday morning he was in 
 terrupted in his solitude by the sudden appearance 
 of his wife. It was not often that she had entered 
 his office during the ten years since he had been 
 installed in it, and he was so much surprised by 
 her coming that he positively started, and half rose 
 out of his chair. 
 
 Mrs. Lauderdale was a beautiful woman still, 
 and would be beautiful if she lived to extreme old 
 age. But she was already past the period up to 
 
16 THE E ALSTONS. 
 
 which a woman may hope to preserve the freshness 
 of a late youth. The certainty that her beauty 
 was waning had come over her very suddenly on a 
 winter s evening not long ago, when she had noticed 
 that the man who was talking to her looked per 
 sistently at Katharine instead of at herself; and 
 just then, catching sight of her face in a mirror, 
 and being tired at the time, she had realized that 
 she was no longer supreme. It had been a bitter 
 moment, and had left a wound never to be healed. 
 The perfect, classic features, the beautiful blue 
 eyes, the fair waving hair, were all present still. 
 Her tall figure was upright and active, and she 
 had no tendency to grow stout or heavy. She had 
 many reasons for congratulating herself, but the 
 magic halo was gone, and she knew it. Some 
 women never find it out until they are really old, 
 and they suffer less. 
 
 At the present moment, as she entered her hus 
 band s office, it would have been hard to believe 
 that Mrs. Lauderdale could be more than five and 
 thirty years of age. The dark coat she wore 
 showed her figure well, and her thin veil separated 
 and hid away the imperfections of what had once 
 been perfect. Sha was a little agitated, too, and 
 the colour was in her cheeks a trifle too much 
 of it, perhaps, but softened to the delicacy of a 
 peach blossom by the dark gauze. 
 
 She paused a moment as she closed the door 
 
THE RALSTONS. 17 
 
 behind her, glancing first at her husband, and then 
 looking about the unfamiliar room, to satisfy her 
 self that they were alone. 
 
 "This is an unexpected pleasure, Emma," said 
 Alexander Junior, rising definitely and coming to 
 meet her. 
 
 " Yes," answered Mrs. Lauderdale. " I don t 
 often come, do I? I know you don t like to be 
 disturbed. But as this is Saturday, and I knew 
 you would be coming up town early, I thought you 
 wouldn t mind. It s rather important." 
 
 " I trust nothing bad has happened," observed 
 Alexander, drawing up a chair for her. 
 
 "Bad? Well I don t know. Yes of course 
 it is ! It s serious, at all events. Uncle Robert s 
 dying. I thought you ought to know " 
 
 " Dying ? Uncle Robert ? " 
 
 Alexander Lauderdale s metallic voice rang 
 through the room, and his smooth, lean hands 
 grasped the arms of his chair. 
 
 An instant later he looked a little nervously at 
 the door, as though hoping that no one had heard 
 his words, nor the tone in which he had spoken 
 them. A dark flush rose in his face and the veins 
 at his temple swelled suddenly, while his grip on 
 the chair seemed to tighten, and he turned his eyes 
 on his wife. 
 
 "Dying!" he repeated in a low voice. "What has 
 happened to him ? When did you hear of this ? " 
 
 VOL. I. 2 
 
18 THE RALSTONS. 
 
 Mrs. Lauderdale had not expected him to show 
 so much feeling. She, herself, was far from calm, 
 however, and did not notice his extreme agitation 
 as though it were anything unnatural. 
 
 " Doctor Kouth came to tell me," she answered. 
 "He s been there all the morning and as there 
 was time before luncheon, I thought I d come " 
 
 "But what s the matter with the old gentleman? 
 This is very surprising news very sad news, 
 Emma." 
 
 A rather spasmodic, electric smile had momen 
 tarily appeared on Alexander Lauderdale s face, 
 disappearing again instantly, as he uttered the 
 last words. 
 
 "I m very much overcome by this news," he 
 added, after a short hesitation. 
 
 He did not appear to be so deeply grieved as he 
 said that he was, but the words were appropriate, 
 and Mrs. Lauderdale recognized the fact at once. 
 
 " It will make a great difference," she said. 
 
 "Yes, I should say so. I should say so," 
 repeated Alexander Junior, not with emphasis, but 
 slowly and thoughtfully. " However," he contin 
 ued, suddenly, "we mustn t count I mean yes 
 we we mustn t altogether place our confidence 
 in man though Doctor Routh certainly stands at 
 the head of his profession. It s our duty to see 
 that other physicians are called in consultation. 
 We must do our utmost to help. Indeed it 
 
THE EALSTONS. 19 
 
 might have been wiser if you had gone there at 
 once and had sent a messenger for me, instead of 
 coming here. But yes yen haven t told me 
 what the matter is, my dear. Is it anything in 
 the nature of apoplexy or the heart you 
 know ? At his age, people rarely but, of course, 
 while there s life, there s hope. We mustn t for 
 get that." 
 
 He seemed unable to wait for his wife s answer 
 to his questions. 
 
 "Why, no, my dear," she replied. "You know 
 he s not been very well for some days. He s 
 worse that s all. It was nothing but a cold at 
 first, but it s turned into pneumonia." 
 
 " Pneumonia ? Dear me ! At his age, people 
 rarely live through it however, he s very strong, 
 of course. Difference ! " he exclaimed, softly. 
 " Yes a great difference. It it will make a 
 great gap in the family, Emma. We re all so fond 
 of him, and I m deeply attached to him, for my 
 part. As for my poor father, he will be quite 
 overcome. I hope he has not been told yet." 
 
 "No I thought I d wait and see you first." 
 
 " Quite right, my dear quite right very wise. 
 In the meantime, I think we should be going. 
 Yes it s just as well that you didn t take off your 
 hat." 
 
 He rose as he spoke, and touched one of the row 
 of electric buttons on his desk. A man in the liv- 
 
20 THE R ALSTONS. 
 
 ery of the Company appeared at the door, just as 
 Alexander was taking up his overcoat. 
 
 "I m going up town a little earlier than usual, 
 Donald," he said. " Inform Mr. Arbuckle. If any 
 thing unusual should occur, send to Mr. Harrison 
 Beman." 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 " That s all, Donald." 
 
 The man faced about and left the office, having 
 stood still for several seconds, staring at Alexan 
 der. Donald had been twenty years in the Com 
 pany s service, and did not remember that Mr. 
 Lauderdale had ever left the office before hours in 
 all the ten years since he had been chief, nor in the 
 preceding ten during which he had occupied more 
 or less subordinate positions. 
 
 Mrs. Lauderdale daintily pulled down her veil 
 and pulled up her gloves, shook out her frock a 
 little and looked at the points of her shoes, then 
 straightened her tall figure and stood ready. Alex 
 ander had slipped on his coat, and was smoothing 
 his hat with a silk handkerchief which he always 
 carried about him for that purpose. He had dis 
 covered that it made the hat last longer. Both he 
 and his wife had unconsciously assumed that inde 
 scribable air which people put on when they are 
 about to go to church. 
 
 "We ll take the Third Avenue Elevated," said 
 Mr. Lauderdale. " It s shorter for us." 
 
THE RALSTONS. 21 
 
 Robert Lauderdale s house was close to the Park. 
 The pair went out together into Broad Street, and 
 the people stared at them as they threaded their 
 way through the crowd. They were a handsome 
 and striking couple, well contrasted, the dark man, 
 just turning grey, and the fair woman, still as fair 
 as ever. It might even be said that there was 
 something imposing in their appearance. They 
 had that look of unaffectedly conscious superiority 
 which those who most dislike it most strenuously 
 endeavour to imitate. Moreover, when a lady, of 
 even passably good looks, appears down town 
 between eleven and twelve o clock in the morn 
 ing, she is certain to be stared at. Very soon, 
 however, the Lauderdales had left the busiest part 
 of the multitude behind them. They walked 
 quickly, with a preoccupied manner, exchanging a 
 few words from time to time. Lauderdale was 
 gradually recovering from his first surprise. 
 
 " Did Eouth say that there was no hope ? " he 
 asked, as they paused at a crossing. 
 
 "No," answered Mrs. Lauderdale. "He didn t 
 say that. He said that uncle Robert s condition 
 caused him grave anxiety. Those were his very 
 words. You know how he speaks when a thing is 
 serious. He said he thought that we all ought to 
 know it." 
 
 "Of course of course. Very proper. We 
 should be the first, I m sure." 
 
22 THE B ALSTONS. 
 
 It would not be fair, perhaps, to say that Alex 
 ander s voice expressed disappointment. But he 
 spoke very coldly and his lips closed mechanically, 
 like a trap, after his words. They went on a little 
 further. Then Mrs. Lauderdale spoke, with some 
 hesitation. 
 
 " Alexander I suppose you don t know exactly 
 do you ? " She turned and looked at his face as 
 she walked. 
 
 " About what ? " he asked, glancing at her and 
 then looking on before him again. 
 
 " Well you know about the will " 
 
 "My dear, what a very foolish question!" 
 answered Alexander, with some emphasis. "We 
 have often talked about it. How in the world 
 should I know any better than any one else ? 
 Uncle Robert is a secretive man. He never told 
 me anything." 
 
 "Because there are the Ralstons, you know," 
 pursued Mrs. Lauderdale. " After all, they re just 
 as near as you are, in the way of relationship." 
 
 "My father is the elder older than uncle Rob 
 ert," said Alexander. "Katharine Ralston s father 
 was the youngest of the three." 
 
 " Does that make a difference ? " asked Mrs. 
 Lauderdale. 
 
 "It ought to!" Alexander answered, energeti 
 cally. 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 "I M not dying, I tell you! Don t bother me, 
 Routh ! " 
 
 Robert Lauderdale turned impatiently on his 
 side as he spoke, and pointed to a chair with one 
 of his big, old hands. Doctor Routh, an immensely 
 tall, elderly man, with a long grey beard and violet 
 blue eyes, laughed a little under his breath, and 
 sat down. 
 
 "I m not at all sure that you are going to die," 
 he said, pleasantly. 
 
 " That s a comfort, at all events," answered the 
 sick man, in a husky voice, but quite distinctly. 
 "What the deuce made you say I was going to 
 die, if I wasn t ? " 
 
 " Some people are stronger than others," an 
 swered the doctor. 
 
 "I used to be, when I was a boy." 
 
 " It won t do you any good to talk. If you can t 
 keep quiet, I shall have to go away." 
 
 " All right. I say mayn t I smoke ? " 
 
 "No. Positively not." 
 
 Doctor Routh smiled again ; for he considered it 
 a hopeful sign that the old man should have a dis- 
 23 
 
24 THE R ALSTONS. 
 
 tinct taste for anything, considering how ill he had 
 been. A long silence followed, during which the 
 two looked at one another occasionally. Lauderdale 
 was twenty years older than the doctor, who was 
 the friend, as well as the physician, of all the 
 Lauderdale tribe with one or two exceptions. 
 
 The room was larger and higher than most bed 
 rooms in New York, but it was simply furnished, 
 and there was very little which could be properly 
 considered as ornamental. Everything which was 
 of wood was of white pear, and the curtains were 
 of plain white velvet, without trimmings. Such 
 metal work as was visible was of steel. There 
 was a large white Persian carpet in the middle of 
 the room, and two or three skins of Persian sheep 
 served for rugs. Robert Lauderdale loved light 
 and whiteness, a strange fancy for so old a man ; 
 but the room was in harmony with his personality, 
 and, to some extent, with his appearance. The 
 colour was all gone from his face, his blue eyes 
 were sunken and his cheeks were hollow, but his 
 hair, once red, looked sandy by contrast with the 
 snow-white stuffs, and his beard had beautiful, 
 pale, smoke-coloured shadows in it, like clouded 
 meerschaum. It was not surprising that Routh 
 should have believed him, and believed him still, 
 to be in very great danger. Nevertheless, there 
 was strength in him yet, and if he recovered 
 he might last a few years longer. He breathed 
 
THE EALSTONS. 25 
 
 rather painfully, and moved uneasily from time to 
 time, as though trying to find a position in which 
 he could draw breath with less effort. Routh sat 
 motionless by his bedside in the white stillness. 
 
 " What s the name of that fellow who s written 
 a book ? " asked the sick man, suddenly. 
 
 " What book ? " enquired the doctor. 
 
 " Novel about the social question don t you 
 know ? There s an old chap in it who has money 
 something like me." 
 
 "Oh! I know. Griggs that s the man s name." 
 
 " What is Griggs, anyway ? " asked Robert Laud- 
 erdale, in the hoarse growl which served him for a 
 voice at present. 
 
 " Griggs ? He s what they call a man of letters, 
 or a literary man, or a novelist, or a genius, or a 
 humbug. I ve always known him a little, though 
 he s younger than I am. The only good thing 
 I know about him is that he works hard. Now 
 don t talk. It isn t good for you." 
 
 "Well you talk, then. I ll listen," grumbled 
 old Lauderdale. 
 
 Thereupon both relapsed into silence, Doctor 
 Routh being one of those people who cannot make 
 conversation to order. Indeed, he was a taciturn 
 man at most times. Lauderdale watched him, 
 coughed a little and turned uneasily, but made a 
 sign to him that he wanted no help. 
 
 " Why don t you talk ? " he enquired, at last. 
 
26 THE BALSTONS. 
 
 " About Griggs ? I haven t read but one or two 
 of his books. I don t know what to say about him." 
 
 "Do you think he s a dangerous friend for a 
 young girl, Routh ? " 
 
 " Griggs ? " Routh laughed in his grey beard. 
 " Hardly ! He s as ugly as a camel, to begin with 
 and he s getting on. Griggs why, Griggs 
 must be fifty, at least. Did you never see him ? 
 He s been about all the spring came back from 
 the Caucasus in January or February. What put 
 it into your head that he would be a dangerous 
 acquaintance for a young woman ? " 
 
 " I don t mean his looks I mean his ideas." 
 
 " Stuff ! " ejaculated Doctor Routh. He s only 
 got the modern mania for psychology. What harm 
 can that do ? " 
 
 " Is that all ? Alexander s an ass." 
 
 Robert Lauderdale turned his head away as 
 though he had settled the question which had tor 
 mented him. Again there was a silence in the 
 room. The doctor looked at his patient with a 
 rather inscrutable expression, then took out his 
 watch, replaced it, and consulted his pocket-book. 
 At last he rose and walked toward the window 
 noiselessly on the thick, white carpet. 
 
 " I shall have to be going," he said. " I ve got 
 a consultation. Cheever s downstairs." 
 
 Doctor Cheever was Doctor Routh s assistant, 
 who did not leave the house during Mr. Lauder- 
 dale s illness. 
 
THE R ALSTONS. 27 
 
 " And you can send away the undertaker, if he s 
 waiting," growled the sick man, with an attempt 
 at a laugh. "I say can I see people, if they 
 call ? I suppose my nephews and nieces will be 
 here before long." 
 
 " It s no use to tell you what to do. You ll do 
 just what you please, anyway. Professionally, I 
 tell you to keep quiet, not to talk, and to sleep if 
 you can. You re not like other people," added 
 Routh, thoughtfully. 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 "Most men in your position are badly scared 
 when it comes to going out. The efforts they 
 make to save themselves sometimes kill them. 
 You seem rather indifferent about it. Yet you 
 have a good deal to leave behind you." 
 
 "H m I ve had it all and a long time. But 
 I want to see Katharine Lauderdale, if she comes." 
 
 "I ll send for her if it s anything important," 
 said Doctor Routh, promptly. 
 
 The sick man looked quickly at him. It seemed 
 as though his readiness to send for Katharine im 
 plied some doubts as to his patient s safety. 
 
 "I don t believe I m going to die," he said, 
 slowly. " What are my chances, Routh ? It s 
 your duty to tell me, if you know." 
 
 "I don t know. If I did, I d tell you. You re 
 a very sick man and they ll all want to see you, 
 of course. I well, I don t mean to say anything 
 
28 THE EALSTONS. 
 
 disagreeable about them. On the contrary it is 
 natural that they should take an interest " 
 
 " Devilish natural," answered old Lauderdale, 
 with the noise that represented a laugh. "But I 
 want to see Katharine." 
 
 " Very well. Then see her. But don t talk too 
 much. That s one reason why I m going now. 
 You can t keep quiet for five minutes while I m in 
 the room. Good-bye. I ll be back in the after 
 noon, sometime. If you feel any worse, send for 
 me. Cheever will come and look at you now and 
 then he won t talk, and he ll call me up at my 
 telephone statical, if I m wanted." 
 
 " Well if you think it s touch and go, send for 
 Katharine I mean Katharine Lauderdale, not 
 Katharine Ralston. If you think I m all right, 
 then leave her alone. She s not the kind to come 
 of her own accord." 
 
 " All right." 
 
 Doctor Routh held his old friend s hand for a 
 moment, and then went away. He exchanged a 
 few words with the nurse, who sat reading in the 
 next room, and then slowly descended the stairs. 
 He was considering and weighing the chances of 
 life and death, and trying to make up his mind as 
 to whether he should send for Robert Lauderdale s 
 grand-niece or not. It was rather a difficult ques 
 tion to solve, for he knew that if Katharine ap 
 peared, the sick man would take her coming for a 
 
THE RALSTONS. 29 
 
 sign that Iris condition was desperate, and the im 
 pression might do him harm. On the other hand, 
 though he was so strong and believed so firmly 
 that he was to live, there was more than a possi 
 bility that he might die that night. With old 
 people, the heart sometimes fails very suddenly. 
 And Kouth could not tell but that his patient s 
 wish to see the girl might proceed from some in 
 tention on his part which should produce a perma 
 nent effect upon her welfare. It would be very 
 hard on her not to send for her, if her appearance 
 in the sick-room were to be of any advantage to 
 her in future. 
 
 It was natural enough that he should ultimately 
 decide the matter in Katharine s favour, for he 
 liked her and Mrs. Kalston best of all the family, 
 next to old Kobert himself. Before he left the house 
 he went into the library, which was on the ground 
 floor, to speak with his assistant, Doctor Chee- 
 ver, whom he had not yet seen, and who had spent 
 the night in the house. The latter gave him an 
 account of the patient s condition during the last 
 twelve hours, which recalled at once the discourage 
 ment Doctor Routh had at first felt that morning. 
 Once out of the old man s presence, the personal 
 impression of his strength was less vivid, and the 
 danger seemed to be proportionately magnified, even 
 in the mind of such an experienced physician. 
 Doctor Kouth had also more than once experienced 
 
30 THE RALSTON8. 
 
 the painful consequences of having omitted, out of 
 sheer hopefulness, to warn people of a dying rela 
 tion s peril, and he at once decided to go to the 
 Lauderdales himself and tell them what he thought 
 of the case. 
 
 He drove down to Clinton Place, and, as luck 
 would have it, he met Katharine just coming out 
 of the house alone. He explained the matter in 
 half a dozen words, put her into his own carriage 
 and sent her to Robert Lauderdale at once, telling 
 the coachman to come back for him. Then he went 
 in and saw Mrs. Lauderdale, and told her all that 
 was occurring. She at once asked him so many 
 questions and required such clear answers, that he 
 forgot to say anything about his meeting with 
 Katharine on the doorstep. As has been seen, he 
 was no sooner gone tham Mrs. Lauderdale went 
 down town to speak to her husband. Before 
 Doctor Kouth had left Clinton Place, Katharine 
 was sitting at old Robert Lauderdale s bedside. 
 
 Many people said that Katharine had never been 
 so beautiful as she was that year. It is possible 
 that as her mother s loveliness began to fade, her 
 own suffered less from the comparison, for her 
 mother had been supreme in her way. But Katha 
 rine was a great contrast to her. Katharine had 
 her father s regular features, and his natural, 
 healthy pallor, and her eyes were grey like his. 
 But there the resemblance ceased. Where her 
 
THE RALSTONS. 31 
 
 father s face was hard as a medal engraved in 
 steel, hers was soft and delicate as moulded moon 
 light. Instead of his even, steel-trap mouth, she 
 had lips of that indescribable hue which is only 
 found with dark complexions not rosy red, nor 
 exactly salmon-pink, and yet with something of the 
 colouring of both, and a tone of its own besides. 
 Her black hair made no ringlets on her forehead, 
 and she did not torture it against its nature. It 
 separated in broad, natural waves, and she wore it 
 as it chose to grow. She had broad, black eye 
 brows. They make even a meek face look strong, 
 and in strong faces they give a stronger power of 
 expression, and under certain conditions can lend 
 both tenderness and pathos to the eyes they over 
 shadow. 
 
 In figure, Katharine was tall and strong, well- 
 grown, neither slight nor heavy. In this, too, she 
 was like her father, who had been an athlete in his 
 day, and still, at fifty years, was a splendid speci 
 men of manhood, though he was growing thinner 
 and smaller than he had been. His daughter 
 moved like him, deliberately, with that grace which 
 is the result of good proportion and easily applied 
 strength, direct and unconscious of effort. Katha 
 rine may, perhaps, have been aware of her advan 
 tages in this respect. At all events, she dressed 
 so simply that the colour and material of what she 
 wore never attracted a stranger s eye so soon as 
 
32 THE RALSTONS. 
 
 her figure and presence. Then he might discover 
 that her frock was of plain grey homespun, ex 
 ceedingly well made, indeed, but quite without 
 superfluity in the way of ornament. 
 
 Long-limbed, easy and graceful as a thorough 
 bred, she entered the white room and stooped 
 down to kiss the old man s pale forehead. His 
 sunken blue eyes looked up at her as his hand 
 sought hers, and she was shocked at the change in 
 his appearance. She sat down, still holding his 
 hand, and leaned back, looking at him. 
 
 " You ve been very ill, uncle Robert," she said, 
 softly. " I m so glad you re better." 
 
 " Did Routh tell you I was better ? " asked the 
 old man, and his gruff, hoarse voice startled Katha 
 rine a little. 
 
 " Not exactly getting well but well enough to 
 see people," she answered. "That s a good deal, 
 you know." 
 
 " I should want to see you, even if I were dying," 
 said Robert Lauderdale, pressing her hand with 
 his great fingers. 
 
 " Thank you, uncle dear ! A lover couldn t say 
 it more prettily." She smiled and returned the 
 pressure. 
 
 "Jack Ralston could for your ears, my dear." 
 
 " Ah Jack perhaps ! " 
 
 A very gentle shadow seemed to descend upon 
 Katharine s face, veiling her heart s thoughts and 
 
THE RALSTONS. 33 
 
 hiding her real expression, though she did not turn 
 her eyes away from the old man. A short silence 
 followed. 
 
 " I hear that Jack is doing very well/ 7 he said, at 
 last. " Jack s a good fellow at heart, Katharine. 
 I think he s forgiven me for what happened last 
 winter. I was angry, you know and he looked 
 very wild." 
 
 " He s forgotten all about it, I m sure. He never 
 speaks of it now. I think he only mentioned it 
 once after it happened, when he explained every 
 thing to me. Don t imagine that he bears you any 
 malice. Besides after all you ve done " 
 
 " I ve done nothing for him, because he won t let 
 me," growled Eobert Lauderdale, and a discon 
 tented look came into his face. " But I m glad he s 
 doing well I m very glad." 
 
 " It s slow, of course," said Katharine, thought 
 fully. " It will be long before he can hope to be a 
 partner." 
 
 " Not so long as you think, child. I ve been very 
 ill, and I am very ill. I may be dead to-morrow." 
 
 " Don t talk like that ! So may I, or anybody 
 by an accident in the street." 
 
 " No, no ! I m in earnest. Not that I care much, 
 I think. It s time to be going, and I ve had my 
 share and the share of many others, I m afraid. 
 Never mind. Never mind we won t talk of it 
 any more. You re so young. It makes you sad." 
 
 VOL. I. 3 
 
34 THE R ALSTONS. 
 
 Again the two exchanged a little pressure of 
 hands, and there was silence. 
 
 " It will be different when the money is divided," 
 said old Lauderdale, at last. " You ll have to ac 
 knowledge your marriage then." 
 
 Katharine started slightly. She had her back to 
 the windows, but the whiteness of everything in 
 the room threw reflected light into her face, and the 
 blush that very rarely came spread all over it in an 
 instant. 
 
 Only four living persons knew that she had been 
 secretly married to John Ralston during the win 
 ter ; namely, John and herself, the clergyman who 
 had married them, and Kobert Lauderdale. At 
 that time she had with great difficulty persuaded 
 John to go through the ceremony, hoping thereby 
 to force her uncle into rinding her husband some 
 congenial occupation in the West. Half an hour 
 after taking the decisive step, she had come to 
 Kobert Lauderdale with her story, and he had 
 demonstrated to her that John s only path to 
 success lay through the office of a banker or a 
 lawyer, and John had then returned to Beman 
 Brothers, after refusing to accept a large sum of 
 money, with which old Lauderdale had proposed 
 to make him independent. He had not been 
 willing to give his uncle the smallest chance of 
 thinking that he had married Katharine as a begging 
 speculator, nor had the old gentleman succeeded in 
 
THE EALSTONS. 35 
 
 making him change his mind since then. Nor had 
 he referred to the marriage when speaking with 
 Katharine, except on one or two occasions, when it 
 had seemed absolutely necessary to do so. And 
 now that he had spoken of it, he saw the burning 
 blush and did not understand it. Women had 
 entered little into his long life. He fancied that 
 he had hurt her, and was very sorry. The great 
 hand closed slowly, as though with an effort, upon 
 the white young fingers. 
 
 " I didn t mean to pain you, my dear ; forgive 
 me," he said, simply. 
 
 Katharine looked at him with a little surprise, 
 and the blush instantly disappeared. Then she 
 laughed softly and bent forward with a quick 
 movement. 
 
 " You didn t, uncle dear ! You didn t pain me in 
 the least. It s only sometimes I don t quite 
 realize that I m Jack s wife. When I do like 
 that, just now it makes me happy. That s all." 
 
 Eobert Lauderdale looked at her, tried to under 
 stand, failed, and nodded his big head kindly but 
 vacantly. 
 
 "Well I m glad," he said. "But you see, my 
 dear child, when John s a rich man, you can ac 
 knowledge your marriage, and have a house of your 
 own. You really must, and of course you will. 
 John can t refuse to take his share. We never 
 quarrelled, that I know of, but that once, last win- 
 
36 THE BALSTONS. 
 
 ter, and you say he has forgotten that. Has he ? 
 Are you quite sure ? " 
 
 Katharine nodded quickly and a whispered 
 yes just parted her fresh lips. In her eyes there 
 was a gentle, almost entreating look, as though 
 she besought him to believe her. 
 
 " Well," he said, and he spoke very slowly 
 "well Pin glad. He can t refuse to take his 
 share when I m dead and gone his fair share and 
 no more." He paused for some seconds. " Katha 
 rine," he said, very earnestly, at last, " there s a 
 great deal of money to be divided amongst you all. 
 Many of them want it. They ll all have some 
 perhaps more than they expect. There s a great 
 deal of money, child." 
 
 "Yes, I know there is," answered Katharine, 
 quietly. 
 
 "When I m gone they ll say that the old man 
 was richer than they thought he was. I can hear 
 them I ve heard it so often about other men ! 
 Just guess how much old Bob Lauderdale left, 
 they ll say. Nearly eighty-two millions! Who d 
 have thought it ! That s what the men will be 
 saying to each other. Eighty millions is a vast 
 amount of money, child. You can t guess how 
 much it is." 
 
 "Eighty millions." Katharine repeated the 
 stupendous words softly, as though trying to real 
 ize their meaning. 
 
THE RALSTONS. 37 
 
 "No you can t understand." The old man s 
 eyes closed wearily. A few moments later they 
 opened again, and he smiled at her. 
 
 " How did you ever manage to make so much ? " 
 she asked, smiling, too, and with a look of wonder. 
 
 " I don t know," answered the great millionaire, 
 as simply as a child. "I worked hard at first, 
 and I saved small things for a purpose. My father 
 was rich in those days. He left us each a hun 
 dred and fifty thousand dollars. Your uncle 
 Alexander gave it to the poor as much of it as 
 the poor did not take without asking his leave. 
 Ralph spent some of it, and left the rest to Kath 
 arine Ralston when he was killed in the war. I 
 saved mine. It seemed good to have money. And 
 then it came it came somehow. I was lucky 
 fortunate investments in land. I ran after it till I 
 was forty-five ; then it began to run after me, and 
 it s outrun me, every time. But I wasn t a miser, 
 Katharine. I don t want you to think that I was 
 mean and miserly when I was young. You don t, 
 do you, my dear ? " 
 
 "No, indeed!" Katharine gave the answer 
 readily enough. "But, uncle Robert, aren t you 
 talking too much ? Doctor Routh said you were 
 not to that it might hurt you. And your voice 
 is so hoarse ! I am sure it can t be good for you." 
 
 The old man patted her hand laboriously, for he 
 was very weak. 
 
38 THE RALSTONS. 
 
 " I want my talk out," he said. " It doesn t 
 matter much whether it hurts me. A year or two, 
 more or less, when I ve had it all, everything, and 
 so long. I m tired, my child, though when I am 
 well I look so strong. It isn t only strength that s 
 needed to live with. It takes more." 
 
 "But there are other things there is so much 
 in your life so many people. There are all of 
 us. Don t you care to live for our sakes just a 
 little, uncle ? " 
 
 " If they were all like you more like you 
 well, I might. I m very fond of you, Katharine. 
 You know it, don t you ? Yes. That s why I sent 
 for you. I don t believe I m going to die I told 
 Routh so half an hour ago. But I might I may. 
 I didn t want to go over without having had my 
 talk out with you. That s it. I want to have 
 my talk out with you. I should be sorry to slip 
 away without seeing you. There are things 
 things that come into my head when I m alone 
 and I ve been alone a great deal in my life. Oh, 
 I could have married, if I had liked. Queens 
 would have married me queer, little, divorced 
 queens from out-of-the-way little kingdoms, you 
 know. But I didn t want to be married for my 
 money, and there were no Katharine Lauderdales 
 when I was young." 4 
 
 Again, with an unsteady, laboured movement, 
 the old hand caressed the young one as it lay on 
 
THE E ALSTONS. 39 
 
 the soft, white, knitted Shetland shawl which cov 
 ered the bed, and again Katharine smiled affec 
 tionately and laughed gently at the flattery. Then 
 all was quiet. She leaned back in her chair, think 
 ing the aged head rested on the white pillow, 
 thinking. 
 
 " Katharine," the eyes opened again, " what 
 does it all mean, child ? " 
 
 "What?" asked the young girl, meeting him 
 again out of her reverie. 
 
 Life." 
 
 " Ah if I knew that " 
 
 "You re at the beginning of it I m at the end 
 almost, or quite, it doesn t matter. What s the 
 meaning of all those things I ve done, and which 
 you re going to do ? They must mean something. 
 I ought to have got at the meaning in so many 
 years." 
 
 Katharine was silent. Of late, she, too, had 
 heard the great question asked, which rattles in 
 the throat of the dying century, and is to-day 
 in the ears of all, whether they desire to hear it 
 or not. And no man has answered it yet. A year 
 earlier Katharine would have said but one word 
 in reply. She could not say it now. 
 
 In the still, white room she sat by the old man s 
 side and bowed her head silently. 
 
 " It s puzzled me a great deal," he said, at last, 
 in his familiar speech. " So long as I cared for 
 
40 THE RALSTON 8. 
 
 things, money, principally, I suppose, it didn t 
 puzzle me at all. It all seemed quite natural. 
 But when I got worn out inside used up with 
 the wear and tear of having too much well, then 
 I couldn t care for things any more, and I began to 
 think. And it s all a puzzle, Katharine. It s all a 
 puzzle. We find it all in bits when we come, 
 taken to pieces by the people who have just gone. 
 We spend all our lives in trying to put the thing 
 together on some theory of our own, and in the 
 end we give it up, and go to sleep perchance to 
 dream that s Hamlet, isn t it? But I never 
 dreamt much. If it s anything, it isn t a dream. 
 Well, then, what is it ? " 
 
 Katharine looked up at him with a little, half- 
 childish glance of wonder. 
 
 " Why, uncle Robert," she said, " I always 
 thought you were a religious man like papa, 
 you know." 
 
 " No." The old man smiled faintly. " I m not 
 like your father. I fancy I m more like you in 
 some ways. Aren t you religious, as you call it, 
 my dear ? " 
 
 "I m religious, as I call it but not as they 
 call it." She laughed a little, perhaps at herself. 
 " I seem to see something, and I believe in it, 
 without quite seeing it. Oh, I can t explain ! 
 I ve tried so often, but it s quite hopeless." 
 
 " Try again," said old Lauderdale. " It can t 
 
THE RALSTONS. 41 
 
 do any harm, and it may do me good. Fm so 
 lonely." 
 
 Katharine was perhaps too young to understand 
 that loneliness, but the look in the sunken blue 
 eyes touched her. She rose and bent over him, 
 and kissed the pale, wrinkled forehead twice. 
 
 " It s our fault the fault of all us," she said, 
 sinking into her seat again. 
 
 " No ; it s not," he answered. " I didn t want 
 you all, and I couldn t have the ones I wanted. 
 It doesn t matter now. I want to hear you talk. 
 Try and tell me what you think it all means, 
 from your end of life. I ve forgotten it s so 
 long ago." 
 
 He sighed, then coughed, raising himself a little, 
 and then sank back upon his pillow and closed his 
 eyes, as though to listen. 
 
 " People say so many things," Katharine began. 
 " Perhaps that s the trouble. One hears so much 
 that disturbs one s belief, and one hears nothing 
 that settles it in any new way. That s what hap 
 pens to every one. In trying to rind reasons for 
 things, people ruin the things themselves with 
 the tools they use. You can t find out the reason 
 of a flower certainly not by sticking the point 
 of a steel knife into it and cutting the heart out. 
 You can see how it s made that s science. But 
 the reason of its being a flower has nothing to do 
 with science. If it had, science would find it out, 
 
42 THE RALSTONS. 
 
 because science can do anything possible in its own 
 line. But it s always the steel knife always, 
 always. You can t tell why things exist, by taking 
 them to pieces, can you ? " 
 
 "No no that s it." The old man turned his 
 head slowly from side to side. Then it trembled a 
 little and lay still again. "And the short cut is 
 to say there is no reason for things that they re 
 all accidents, by selection." 
 
 " Yes ; that s the short cut, as you say," an 
 swered Katharine. " The trouble is that when 
 we ve taken it, if we don t want to go back, we 
 ought to want to go on to the end. Nobody will 
 do that. They meet you with a moral right and 
 wrong, after denying that there s a ground for 
 morality. I know I ve talked with a great many 
 people this winter. It s very funny, if you listen 
 to them from any one point of view, no matter 
 which. Then they all seem to be mad. But if 
 one listens .inside, with one s self, I mean, 
 it s different. It hurts, then. It would break 
 my heart to believe that I had no soul, as some 
 people do. Better believe that one has one s own 
 to begin with, and the fragments of a dozen others 
 clinging to it besides, than to have none at all." 
 
 " What s that ? " asked the old man, opening his 
 eyes with a look of interest. " What s that about 
 fragments of other people s souls ? " 
 
 " Oh it s what some people say. I got it from 
 
THE R ALSTONS. 43 
 
 Mr. Griggs. Of course it s nonsense at least 
 I don t know. It s the one idea that appeals to 
 one that we go on living over and over again. 
 And he says that in that theory there s an original 
 self, sometimes dormant, sometimes dominant, but 
 which goes on forever or indefinitely, at least; 
 and then that fragments of the other personalities, 
 of the people we have lived with in a former 
 state, better or worse than the original self, fasten 
 themselves on our own self, and influence its 
 doings, and may put it to sleep, and may eat it up 
 altogether and that s why we don t always seem 
 to ourselves to be the same person. But I can t 
 begin to remember it all. You should get Mr. 
 Griggs to talk about it. He s very interesting." 
 
 "It s a curious theory," said old Lauderdale, 
 evidently disappointed. "It s an ingenious ex 
 planation, but it isn t a reason. Explanations 
 aren t reasons I mean, they re not causes." 
 
 "No," answered Katharine, "of course they re 
 not. The belief is the cause, I suppose." 
 
 The sick man glanced at her keenly and then 
 closed his eyes once more. Katharine rose quietly 
 and went to the windows to draw down the shades 
 a little. 
 
 " Don t ! " cried Lauderdale, sharply, in his 
 hoarse voice. " I like the light. It s all the light 
 I have." 
 
 Katharine came back and sat down beside him 
 again. 
 
44 THE RALSTONS. 
 
 "I wasn t going to sleep," he said, presently. 
 " I was thinking of what you had said, that belief 
 was the cause. Well if I believe in God, I 
 must ask, Do mine quo vadis ? mustn t I ? You 
 know enough Latin to understand that. What do 
 you answer ? " 
 
 "Tendit ad astra." 
 
 It was one of those quick replies which any 
 girl who knew a few Latin phrases might easily 
 make. But it struck the ears of the man whose 
 strength was far spent. He raised his hands a 
 little, and brought them together with a strangely 
 devout gesture. 
 
 "To the stars," he said in a whisper, and his 
 eyes looked upwards. 
 
 Katharine rested her chin upon her hand, lean 
 ing forwards and watching him. An expression 
 passed over his face which she had never seen, 
 though she had read of the mysterious brightness 
 which sometimes illuminates the features of dying 
 persons. She thought it must be that, and she 
 was suddenly afraid, yet fascinated. But she was 
 mistaken. It was only a gleam of hope. Words 
 can mean so much more than the things they name. 
 
 And a dream-like interpretation of the two Latin 
 phrases suggested itself to her. It was as though, 
 looking at the venerable and just man who was 
 departing, she had asked of him, Sir, whither goest 
 thou ? And as though a voice had answered her, 
 
THE EALSTONS. 45 
 
 Starwards and as though her own eyes might 
 be those stars the stars of youth and life 
 from which he had come long ago and to which he 
 was even now returning, to take new childish 
 strength and to live again through the years. 
 Then he spoke, and the dream vanished. 
 
 " I believe in Something," he said. " Call it God, 
 child, and let me pray to It, and die in peace." 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 KATHARINE said nothing, not knowing what to 
 say. During what seemed to her a long time, old 
 Lauderdale lay quite still. Then he seemed to 
 rouse himself, and as he turned his head he 
 coughed painfully. 
 
 " I want you to know how I ve left the money," 
 he said abruptly, when he had recovered his breath. 
 
 " Do you think I ought to know ? " asked Katha 
 rine, in some surprise. 
 
 "Yes I don t know whether you ought no. 
 But I want you to know. I ve confidence in your 
 judgment, my dear." 
 
 "Oh, uncle Robert! As though your own were 
 not a thousand times better ! " 
 
 " In matters of business it may be. But this is 
 quite another thing. You see, there are a good 
 many who ought to have a share, and a good many 
 who expect some of it, whether they have any 
 claim or not. I want to know if you think I ve 
 acted fairly by everybody. Will you tell me, 
 quite honestly ? Nobody else would except 
 Katharine Ralston, perhaps." 
 46 
 
THE EALSTONS. 47 
 
 "But I don t want to be made the judge of your 
 actions, dear uncle Kobert ! " protested Katharine. 
 
 "Well make a sacrifice, then, and do some 
 thing you don t like," answered the old man, 
 gruffly. 
 
 It would have pleased Doctor Kouth to see how 
 soon his temper rose at the merest sign of opposi 
 tion. 
 
 "Well tell me, then," said Katharine, reluc 
 tantly. 
 
 " It s a simple will," began the old man, and then 
 he paused, as though reflecting upon it. " Well 
 
 you see," lie continued, presently, "I argued in 
 this way. I said to myself that the money ought 
 either to go back to its original source I ve 
 thought a great deal about that, too, and I ve 
 made sketches of wills leaving everything to the 
 poor, in a big trust I suppose every rich man 
 has made rough sketches of queer wills at one 
 time or another." He paused a moment and 
 seemed to be thinking. " Yes," he resumed, pres 
 ently, " either it should go back to the people, or 
 else it ought to go amongst the Lauderdales, as 
 directly as possible. Now there s my brother, first 
 
 your grandfather. He s older than I am, but 
 he s careless and foolish about money. He d give 
 it all away better leave something to his asylums 
 and things, and give him an income but no capital. 
 He doesn t want anything for himself he s a 
 
48 THE RALSTONS. 
 
 good man, and I wish I were like him. Then 
 there s your father, next, and Katharine Ralston 
 my nephew and niece. They don t want a lot 
 of money, either, do they ? " 
 
 Katharine s eyes expressed a little astonishment 
 in spite of herself, and the old man saw it. He 
 hesitated a while, coughed, cleared his throat, and 
 then seemed to make up his mind. 
 
 " It s been my opinion for a long time," he said, 
 slowly, "that your father has a good deal of his 
 own." 
 
 "Papa!" exclaimed Katharine. " Why he 
 always says he s so poor ! You don t know how 
 economical he is, and makes us be. I m sure he 
 can t be rich." 
 
 " Eich h m that s a relative expression now 
 adays. He s not rich, compared with me but he 
 has enough, he has quite enough." 
 
 " Oh enough yes," answered the young girl. 
 " The house is comfortable, and we have plenty 
 to eat." She laughed a little. " But as for clothes, 
 you know well, if my mother didn t sell her 
 miniatures, I don t know exactly what she and I 
 should do nor what Charlotte would have done, 
 before she was married." 
 
 Kobert Lauderdale looked at her intently for 
 several seconds. 
 
 "Do you mean to say," he asked, at length, 
 " that when your dear mother sells her little paint- 
 
THE E ALSTONS. 49 
 
 ings, it s to get money for her and you to dress 
 on?" 
 
 Yes of course. What did you think ? " 
 
 " I thought it was for her small charities," he 
 answered, bending his rough brows with an expres 
 sion of mingled pain and anger. " It seemed to me 
 a good thing that she should have that interest. If 
 I d known that your father kept you all so close 
 
 " But I really think he s poor, uncle Kobert." 
 
 " Poor ! Nonsense ! He s got a million, any 
 way. I know it. Don t look at me like that 
 as though you didn t believe me. I tell you, I 
 know it. I don t know how much more he has, 
 but he s got that." 
 
 He moved restlessly on his side, with more 
 energy than he had yet shown, for he was growing 
 angry. 
 
 "There s some money in the drawer of that 
 little table," he said, pointing with his hand, which 
 trembled a little. "It s open just get what 
 there is and bring it here, will you ? " 
 
 Katharine rose. 
 
 "I don t want any money, if you mean to give 
 it to me," she said, as she crossed the room. 
 
 She brought him a roll of bills. 
 
 " Count it," he said. 
 
 She counted carefully, turning back the crisp 
 green notes over her delicate fingers. It was new 
 money. 
 
 VOL. I. 4 
 
50 THE R ALSTONS. 
 
 " There are three hundred and fifty dollars/ she 
 said. " At least, I think I ve counted right." 
 
 "Near enough. Make a note of it, my dear. 
 There are pencil and paper on the table. There 
 just write down the figure. Now put the money 
 into your pocket, and go and spend it on some 
 trifle." 
 
 " I d rather not," answered Katharine, hesitating. 
 
 She had never had so much money in her hand 
 in her whole life, though she was the grand-niece 
 of Robert the Rich. 
 
 " Do as I tell you ! " cried the old man, almost 
 fiercely, and in a much stronger voice than he had 
 been able to find hitherto. 
 
 Katharine obeyed, seeing that he was really 
 losing his temper. 
 
 "You may as well spend it on toys as leave it 
 to the servants," he said. " They d have stolen it 
 as soon as I was dead. Not that I mean to die, 
 though. Not till I ve settled one or two things 
 like this. I feel stronger." 
 
 " I m so glad ! " exclaimed Katharine. 
 
 "So am I," growled the sick man. "You ve 
 saved my life." 
 
 "I?" 
 
 " Yes, child. Go and tell Routh that I said so. 
 Upon my word ! " he grumbled, half audibly. 
 " Selling her poor little miniatures to buy clothes 
 for herself and her children my nieces that s 
 
THE E ALSTONS. 51 
 
 just a little too much, you know can t see how 
 I could die decently well without telling him 
 what I think about it. Katharine," he said, more 
 loudly, addressing her, " it amounts to this. I ve 
 left a few charities, and I ve left the Miners a 
 little something to make them comfortable, and 
 I ve given a million to the Brights Hamilton and 
 Hester and their mother and I ve left the rest 
 to you three young ones you and Charlotte and 
 Jack Ralston. That ought to make about twenty- 
 five millions for each of you. I want to know if 
 you think I ve done right ? " 
 
 Katharine s hands dropped by her side. For the 
 first time in her life she was literally struck dumb. 
 
 "That doesn t mean," continued the old man, 
 watching her keenly, as the light came back to his 
 eyes, "that doesn t mean that I give you all that 
 money, just as I gave you that roll of bills just 
 now. It s all tied up in trusts, just as far as the law 
 would allow me to do it. You couldn t take it and 
 throw it into the street, nor speculate, nor buy a 
 railway, nor do anything of the kind. You and 
 Charlotte will have to pay half your income to 
 your father and mother while they live, and you ll 
 have to leave it to your children at least, Char 
 lotte must, and I hope you will, my dear. And 
 Jack must give half of his income to his mother. 
 You see, as there are three parents, that will make 
 it exactly equal. And all three of you have to 
 
52 THE RALSTONS. 
 
 pay something to make up an income for your 
 grandfather. So it will still be equally shared. I 
 like you best, my dear, but I couldn t show any 
 favouritism in my will. The end of it will be that 
 you will each have something less than half the 
 income of twenty-five millions to spend. That s 
 better than selling miniatures to buy clothes, any 
 way. Isn t it, now ? " 
 
 He laughed hoarsely and then coughed. 
 
 " Go home, child," he said, presently. " I ve 
 talked too much. Stop, though. What I ve told 
 you is not to be repeated on any account. I wanted 
 to know what you thought of the right and wrong 
 of the thing but I ve taken your breath away. 
 Go home and think about it. Come and see me 
 day after to-morrow there, I shouldn t have said 
 that an hour ago give me a little of that beef 
 tea, please, my dear. I m hungry and I d rather 
 have it from your hand than from Mrs. Deems s. 
 Thank you." 
 
 He drank eagerly, and she took the cup from 
 him and set it down again. 
 
 " She s .a good creature, the nurse," he said. "A 
 very good creature a sort of holy scarecrow. I 
 shan t need her much longer." 
 
 "You really do seem better," said Katharine, 
 wondering how she could ever have believed that 
 he was dying. 
 
 " I m going to get well this time. I told Routh 
 
THE EALSTONS. 53 
 
 this morning that I wasn t going to die. You ve 
 saved my life. There s nothing like rage for the 
 action of the heart, I believe. I shall be out next 
 week." 
 
 He began to cough again. 
 
 "Go home go home," he managed to say, 
 between the short spasms. " I m talking too 
 much." 
 
 Katharine bent down and kissed his forehead 
 quickly, looked at him affectionately and left the 
 room, for she saw that what he said was true. She 
 closed the door softly and found her way to the 
 stairs. She was in haste to get out into the air 
 and to be alone, for she wished, if possible, to 
 realize the stupendous possibilities of life which 
 the last few minutes had brought into her range of 
 mental vision. It was not a light thing to have 
 been told that she was one day to be among the 
 richest of her very rich acquaintances, after having 
 been brought up in such a penurious fashion. 
 
 In the hall she came suddenly upon her father 
 and mother, who were parleying with the butler. 
 
 "Here s Miss Katharine, sir," said the servant, 
 and he immediately fell back, glad to avoid further 
 discussion with such a very obstinate person as 
 Alexander Junior. 
 
 "Why, Katharine!" exclaimed Mrs. Lauderdale, 
 in surprise. " Do you mean to say you re here ? " 
 
 " Yes didn t you know ? Doctor Routh sent 
 
54 THE EALSTONS. 
 
 me up in his carriage. He met me on the steps 
 just as he was going in to see you. Didn t he tell 
 you ? " 
 
 " No how very extraordinary ! " 
 
 Mrs. Lauderdale s face assumed a grave expres 
 sion not untinged with displeasure. 
 
 " This is very strange," said her husband. " And 
 Leek has just been telling us that uncle Robert 
 could see no one." 
 
 " I beg pardon, sir," said the butler, coming for 
 ward respectfully. " There were orders that when 
 Miss Katharine came, Mr. Lauderdale was not to 
 be disturbed." 
 
 " Yes," answered Alexander Junior, coldly. " I 
 understand. Come, Emma come, Katharine 
 we shall be late for luncheon." 
 
 " It isn t half-past twelve yet," observed Katha 
 rine, glancing at the great old clock, which at that 
 moment gave warning of the coming chime for 
 the half-hour. 
 
 " It s of no consequence what time it is," said 
 her father, more coldly than ever. " Come ! " 
 
 They went out together, and the door closed 
 behind them. Alexander Lauderdale stood still 
 upon the pavement and faced his daughter, with a 
 peculiarly hard look in his eyes. 
 
 " What does this all mean, Katharine ? " he 
 enquired, severely. " Your mother and I desire 
 some explanation." 
 
THE RALSTONS. 55 
 
 " There s nothing to explain," answered the 
 young girl. " Uncle Robert wanted to see me, 
 and Doctor Routh told me so, and was kind 
 enough to send me up in his carriage. I was 
 coming away when I met you. There s nothing 
 to explain." 
 
 Alexander Junior very nearly lost his temper. 
 He could not recollect having done so since he had 
 refused to accept John Ralston as his son-in-law, 
 nearly eighteen months ago. But his steely grey 
 eyes began to gleam now, and his clear, pale skin 
 grew paler. It was evident that his mind was 
 working rapidly in a direction which Katharine 
 could not understand. 
 
 "I wish to know what he said to you," he 
 replied. 
 
 " Why do you want to know ? " asked Katharine, 
 unwisely, for she herself was agitated. 
 
 " I have a right to know," answered her father, 
 peremptorily. 
 
 It was unlike him to go to such lengths of insist 
 ence at once, and even Mrs. Lauderdale was sur 
 prised, and glanced at him somewhat timidly. 
 
 " Shall we walk on ? " she suggested. " I m 
 cold there s a chilly wind from the corner." 
 
 They began to move, Alexander Junior walking 
 between them, with Katharine on his left. She 
 did not reply to his last speech at once, and his 
 anger rose. 
 
56 . THE RALSTONS. 
 
 "When I speak to you, Katharine, I expect to 
 be answered," he said. 
 
 "Yes," replied Katharine, coolly. "I was think 
 ing of what I should say." 
 
 She had been taken unawares, and found it hard 
 to decide how to act. She thought he was angry 
 because he suspected her of trying to influence the 
 old millionaire to do something which might facili 
 tate her marriage with John Kalston, little guess 
 ing that in the eyes of the church and the law she 
 was married already. So far as revealing anything 
 about the dispositions of her great-uncle s will might 
 be concerned, she had not the slightest intention 
 of saying anything about it, nor of even hinting 
 that he had spoken of it. She was capable of quite 
 as much obstinacy as her father, and she was far 
 more intelligent ; but she disliked a quarrel of any 
 sort, and yet, placed as she was, she could not see 
 how to avoid one, if he continued to insist. Mrs. 
 Lauderdale saw that trouble was imminent, and 
 tried to come to the rescue. 
 
 " How did he seem to be, dear ? " she enquired, 
 speaking across her husband. " Doctor Routh was 
 not very encouraging." 
 
 " He is better really better, I m sure," answered 
 Katharine, seizing the opportunity of turning the 
 conversation. "When I first went in, he looked 
 dreadfully ill. His eyes are quite sunken and his 
 cheeks are positively hollow. But gradually, as 
 
THE RALSTONS. 57 
 
 we talked, he revived, and when I left him he 
 really seemed quite cheerful." 
 
 She paused, not seeing how she could go on talk 
 ing about the old gentleman s appearance much 
 longer. She hoped her mother would ask another 
 question, but her father interposed again, with 
 senseless and almost brutal persistence. 
 
 " I m glad to hear that he is better," he said. 
 " But I m still waiting for an answer to my ques 
 tion. What was the nature of the conversation 
 between you, Katharine? I insist upon knowing." 
 
 " Eeally, papa," answered the young girl, look 
 ing up to him with eyes almost as hard as his own, 
 " I don t see why you should be so determined to 
 know." 
 
 "It s of no consequence why I wish to know. 
 It should be sufficient for you to understand my 
 wishes. I expect you to obey me at once and to 
 give a clear account of what took place. Do you 
 understand me ? " 
 
 Perfectly oh, yes ! " 
 
 It was evident from Katharine s tone that she 
 did not intend to satisfy him. Her mother thought 
 that she might have excused herself instead of 
 refusing so abruptly. She might have even given 
 a harmless sketch of an imaginary conversation. 
 But that was not her way, as she would have said. 
 
 Alexander s anger increased with every moment, 
 in a way by no means normal with him. He said 
 
58 THE KALSTONS. 
 
 nothing for a few moments, but walked stiffly on, 
 biting his clean-shaven upper lip with his bright 
 teeth. He felt himself helpless, which made the 
 position worse. 
 
 "So uncle Kobert is really better/ said Mrs. 
 Lauderdale, pacifically inclined. 
 
 " I think so," answered Katharine, mechanically. 
 
 " I m very glad. Aren t you glad, Alexander, my 
 dear ? " she asked, turning to her husband. 
 
 " Of course. What a foolish question ! " 
 
 Mrs. Lauderdale felt that under the circum 
 stances it had certainly been a very foolish ques 
 tion, and she relapsed into silence. She was, on the 
 whole, a very good woman, and was sincere in saying 
 that she was glad of the old man s recovery. This 
 was not inconsistent with her recent haste to in 
 form her husband of the supposed danger. It had 
 seemed quite natural to her to think of going in 
 stantly to old Robert Lauderdale s bedside, if there 
 were any possibility of his dying. She knew, also, 
 far better than Katharine had known, what an 
 immense sum was to be divided at his death, and 
 considering the life she had led under her husband s 
 economic rule, she might be pardoned if, even being 
 strongly attached to the old gentleman, she was a 
 little agitated at the thought of the changes im 
 minent in her own existence. There is a point 
 at which humanity must be forgiven for being 
 human. In the memorable struggle for the great 
 
THE RALSTONS. 59 
 
 Lauderdale fortune, which divided the tribe against 
 itself, it must not be forgotten that Mrs. Lauder 
 dale was sincerely fond of the man who had accu 
 mulated the wealth, though she afterwards took 
 a distinct side in the affairs, and showed herself 
 as eager as many others to obtain as much as pos 
 sible for her husband and her children. 
 
 Meanwhile, in spite of her, the opening skirmish 
 continued sharply. After walking nearly the 
 length of a block in silence, Alexander Junior 
 once more turned his head in the direction of his 
 daughter. 
 
 " Am I to understand, Katharine, that you defi 
 nitely refuse to speak ? " he enquired, sternly. 
 
 " If you mean that I should tell you in detail all 
 that uncle Kobert and I said to each other this 
 morning, yes. I refuse." 
 
 "Do you know that you are disobedient and 
 undutiful ? " 
 
 "It isn t necessary to discuss that. I m not a 
 child any longer." 
 
 "Very well. We shall see." 
 
 And they continued to walk in silence. Alexan 
 der was fond of walking and of all sorts of exercise, 
 when it did not interfere with the rigid punctuality 
 of his business habits. He had been a very strong 
 man in his youth. 
 
 This was the beginning of hostilities, and the 
 events hitherto described took place in the month 
 of April. 
 
60 THE RALSTONS. 
 
 Kobert Lauderdale s instinct had not deceived 
 him, in prompting him to say that he was not going 
 to die when he seemed most ill. He rallied quickly, 
 and within a fortnight of the day on which he 
 had sent for Katharine, he was able to be driven 
 in the Park, in the noon sunshine. He was changed, 
 and had grown suddenly much thinner, but most 
 of his friends thought that at his age this was no 
 bad sign. 
 
 Ever since that crisis there had been a coldness 
 between Katharine and her father. She felt that 
 he was watching her perpetually, looking, perhaps, 
 for an opportunity of making her feel his displeas 
 ure, and assuredly trying to find out what she 
 knew. The subject was not mentioned, and Alex 
 ander Junior seemed to have accepted his defeat 
 more calmly than might have been expected ; but 
 Katharine knew his character well enough to be 
 sure that the humiliation rankled, and that the 
 obstinate determination to find out the secret was 
 as constantly present as ever. 
 
 Katharine s life became more and more difficult 
 and complicated, and she seemed to become more 
 powerless every day, when she tried to see some 
 way of simplifying it. She found herself, indeed, 
 in a very extraordinary position, and one which 
 requires a little elucidation for all those who are 
 not acquainted with her previous history. 
 
 In the first place, she had been secretly married 
 
THE R ALSTONS. 61 
 
 to her second cousin John Ralston, nearly five 
 months before the beginning of this story. John 
 Ralston had faults which could not be concealed. 
 It had been said with some truth that he drank and 
 occasionally played high ; that he was a failure, as 
 far as any worldly success was concerned, was evi 
 dent enough, although he was now making what 
 seemed to be a determined effort at regular work. 
 He was certainly not a particularly good young man. 
 His father, the admiral, who had been dead some 
 years, had been a brave sailor and distinguished in 
 the service, but there were many stories of his wild 
 doings, so that those who trace all character to 
 heredity may find an excuse for John s evil ten 
 dencies in his father s temperament. Be this as it 
 may, he had undoubtedly been exceedingly lively, 
 as his distant cousin and best friend, Hamilton 
 Bright, expressed it. 
 
 But he had his good points. He was honourable 
 to a fault. He loved Katharine with a single- 
 hearted devotion very rare in so young a man, for 
 he was only five and twenty years of age, and for 
 her sake had been making a desperate attempt to 
 master his worse instincts. He could be said to 
 have succeeded in that, at least, since he had made 
 his good resolutions. Whether he could keep them 
 for the rest of his life was another matter. 
 
 Katharine s father, however, put no faith in him, 
 and never would. Moreover, John was a poor 
 
62 THE BALSTONS. 
 
 man, a consideration which had great weight. No 
 one could suspect that his great uncle intended to 
 leave him a large share of the fortune, and it was 
 very generally believed that they had quarrelled 
 and that John Ralston, was to be cut off with 
 nothing. This opinion was partly due to the fact 
 that John kept away from Robert Lauderdale s 
 house more than the rest of the family, because 
 he dreaded the idea of being counted among the 
 hangers on of the tribe. But Alexander Lauder- 
 dale could not forbid him the house, because he 
 was a relation, but altogether refused to hear of 
 a marriage with Katharine. He hoped to make for 
 her a match as good as her sister s, if not better. 
 The scene with John had been almost violent, but 
 the young lovers had contrived to see each other 
 with the freedom afforded by society to near 
 relatives. 
 
 Almost a year had passed in this way, and there 
 had seemed to be no prospect of a solution, when 
 Katharine had taken the law into her own hands, 
 being at that time nineteen years old. She had 
 persuaded John that if he would marry her secretly, 
 she could at once prevail on old Robert Lauderdale 
 to find him some occupation in the West. After 
 much hesitation John Ralston had consented, on 
 condition that uncle Robert should be told imme 
 diately. The pair were secretly married by a clergy 
 man whom John persuaded to perform the ceremony, 
 
THE EALSTONS. 63 
 
 and an hour later Katharine had told the old gentle 
 man her secret. He at once offered to make her and 
 John independent for the honour of the family ; 
 but John had stipulated that he was to receive 
 nothing of the nature of money. That would have 
 been like begging with a loaded pistol. What he 
 wanted was a position in which he might do some 
 sort of work, and receive an equivalent sufficient to 
 support himself and his wife. Robert Lauderdale 
 at once proved to his grand-niece that such a scheme 
 was wholly impracticable. John could do nothing 
 which could earn him a dollar a day. Katharine 
 had to own at last that he was right. He said that 
 if John would work steadily in an office in New 
 York, even for a year, it would be easy to push him 
 rapidly into success. 
 
 The compromise was accepted as the only way 
 out of the difficulty. The secret marriage remained 
 a secret, and a mere accomplished formality. John 
 continued to live with his mother as though he were 
 a bachelor ; Katharine stayed under her father s 
 roof as Miss Lauderdale. John returned to Beman 
 Brothers, and was now working there, as has been 
 said more than once. Katharine had to bear all 
 the difficulties of a totally false position in society. 
 These had been the results of the secret marriage, 
 so far as actual consequences in fact were con 
 cerned. Morally speaking, there could be no ques 
 tion but that John Ralston, at least, had profited 
 
64 THE RALSTONS. 
 
 enormously by the sense of honourable responsibil 
 ity Katharine had forced upon him. He had made 
 one of those supreme efforts of which natures 
 nervous by temperament, melancholy, and some 
 times susceptible of exaltation, are often capable. 
 The almost divine dignity which his mother had 
 taught him to attribute to the code of honour stood 
 him in good stead. He saw by the light which 
 guides heroes, things not heroic in themselves to 
 be done, but brave at least, and they were easy to 
 him, because, for Katharine s sake, he would have 
 done much more. 
 
 So far as Katharine was concerned, the effect 
 upon her was different. It might even be ques 
 tioned whether it were a good effect. She was 
 helpless to do anything which could improve her 
 position, and the result was a feeling of hostility 
 against her surroundings. The whole fabric of 
 society seemed to her to rest upon a doubtful 
 foundation, since two young people so eminently 
 fitted for each other could be forced by it into 
 such a situation. 
 
 They were of equal standing in every way ; she 
 had even lately learned that their prospects of 
 fortune, which were little short of colossal, were 
 precisely the same. They loved each other. They 
 were married by church and law. Yet between 
 John s code of honour, on the one hand, and 
 Alexander Lauderdale s determined opposition, on 
 
THE EALSTONS. 65 
 
 the other, they dared not so much as own that 
 they were husband and wife, lest some enormous 
 social scandal should ensue. They had but one 
 alternative to leave New York together, which 
 meant starvation, or else to accept Kobert Lauder- 
 dale s help in the form of money, which John was 
 too proud to do. And though John would have 
 been quite ready to starve alone, he had no inten 
 tion of subjecting Katharine to any such ordeal. 
 He blamed himself most bitterly for having ac 
 cepted the secret marriage at all, but since the 
 thing was done, he meant to do his share and bear 
 his burden manfully and honourably. It was all 
 he could do to atone for his weakness in having 
 yielded, and for the trouble he had caused Katha 
 rine. 
 
 But she had no such active part as he. He must 
 work, for he had chosen that salvation for his self- 
 respect, and it was her portion to wait until he 
 could win his independence on his own merits, 
 since he would not be indebted for it to any one. 
 The waiting is often harder to bear than the work 
 ing. Katharine grew impatient of the conventions 
 in the midst of which she lived, and found fault 
 with the system of all modern society. 
 
 She was strangely repelled, too, by the attentions 
 of the young men she met daily, and danced with, 
 and sat beside at dinner. They had amused her 
 until the last winter. She was not one of those 
 
66 THE E ALSTONS. 
 
 girls who either feign indifference to amusement, 
 or really feel it, and so long as she had been free 
 to enjoy herself without any secondary thoughts 
 about the meaning of enjoyment, she had found 
 the world a pleasant place. Now, however, she 
 was for the first time made conscious that several 
 of the young fellows who surrounded her at parties 
 really wished to marry her. The genuine and 
 pure-hearted convictions concerning the inviolable 
 sanctity of marriage, which are peculiarly strong 
 in American young girls, asserted themselves with 
 Katharine at every moment. Being the lawfully 
 wedded wife of John Ralston, it seemed an outrage 
 that young Van De Water, for instance, should 
 seek occasion to assure her of his devotion. Yet, 
 since he, like the rest, knew nothing of the truth, 
 she could not blame him if he had chanced to fall 
 in love with her. She could only refuse to listen 
 to him and discourage his advances, feeling all the 
 while a most unreasonable and yet womanly desire 
 to hand him over to her husband s tender mercies, 
 together with a firm faith that John was not only 
 able, but would also be quite disposed, to slay the 
 offender forthwith. 
 
 This seems to prove that woman is naturally 
 good, and that harm can only reach her by slow 
 stages. And it is a curious reflection that gener 
 ally in the world good, when it comes, comes 
 quickly and evil slowly. Great purifying religions 
 
THE E ALSTONS. 67 
 
 have arisen and washed whole nations clean, almost 
 in one man s lifetime, whereas it has always re 
 quired generations of luxury and vice to undermine 
 the solidity of any strong people. A first sin is 
 rarely more than an episode, too often exaggerated 
 by those who would direct the conscience, and who 
 leave the offenders to the terrible danger of discov 
 ering such exaggerations later, and then of setting 
 down all wrong-doing as insignificant because the 
 first was made to appear greater than it was. 
 
 Katharine hated the falseness of her position, 
 and the perpetual irritation to which she was 
 exposed unsettled the balance of her girlish con 
 victions as they had emerged from the process of 
 education, ready-made, honest, and somewhat con 
 ventional. The disturbance awakened abnormal 
 activity in her mind, arid she fell into the habit 
 of questioning and discussing almost every ac 
 cepted article of creeds social and spiritual. 
 
 Hence her liking for the society of Paul Griggs, 
 whose experience was a fact, but whose convictions 
 were a mystery not easily fathomed. Alexander 
 Lauderdale especially detested the man for his 
 easy way of accepting anybody s religious beliefs, 
 as though the form of religion were of no impor 
 tance whatever, while perpetually thrusting for 
 ward the humanity of mankind as the principal 
 point of interest in life. But when he was alone 
 with Katharine, or with some kindred spirit, 
 Griggs sometimes talked of other things. 
 
68 THE BALSTONS. 
 
 The day on which Katharine, returning from 
 Robert Lauderdale s house, refused to answer her 
 father s questions was an important one in her 
 history and in the lives of many closely connected 
 with her ; and this has seemed the best place for 
 offering an explanation of such preceding events 
 as bear directly upon all that followed. Here, 
 therefore, ends the prologue to the story which is 
 to tell of the lives of John Ralston and his wife, 
 commonly known as Miss Lauderdale, during the 
 great battle for the Lauderdale fortune* It has 
 been a long prologue, and, as is usually the case 
 in such tiresome preliminary pieces, the majority 
 of the actors in the real play have not yet 
 appeared, and the few who have come before the 
 curtain crave as yet indulgence rather than ap 
 plause. They have shown their faces and have 
 explained the general nature of what is to be 
 represented, and they retire as gracefully as they 
 can, under rather difficult circumstances, to re 
 appear in such actions and situations as should 
 explain themselves. 
 
^ 
 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 IN itself, Robert Lauderdale s will was a very 
 fair one. It provided, as has been seen, that each 
 of the living members of the family in the direct 
 line should have an equal income, while insuring 
 the important condition that the money should 
 remain in the hands of the Lauder dales and Hals- 
 tons as long as possible, since the income paid to 
 the four elder members, Alexander Lauderdale 
 Senior, Alexander Junior, the latter s wife and 
 Mrs. Ealston, John s mother, should revert at the 
 deaths of each to the three younger heirs, John 
 Ealston, Katharine, and Charlotte Slay back, and 
 afterwards to the children of each. 
 
 This result seemed just and, on the whole, to be 
 desired. Robert Lauderdale had devoted much 
 thought to the subject, and had seen no other way 
 of acting fairly and at the same time of providing 
 as far as possible against the subdivision and dis 
 appearance of the great fortune he had amassed. 
 The will was to constitute three separate trusts, 
 one for each of the direct legatees and their 
 children, at whose death the trusts would expire, 
 
70 THE RALSTONS. 
 
 and the property be further divided amongst the 
 succeeding generations in each line. 
 
 The old millionaire was a very enlightened man, 
 and had honestly endeavoured during his lifetime 
 to understand the conditions and obligations to 
 which the possessors of very large fortunes should 
 submit. Looking at the matter from this point of 
 view, he had come to regard the accumulation and 
 dissipation of wealth as a succession of natural 
 phenomena, somewhat analogous to those of evapo 
 ration and rain, beneficial when gradual, destructive 
 when sudden. As water is drawn up in the form of 
 vapour, in invisible atoms, gradually to accumulate 
 in the form of clouds, which, moving under natu 
 ral conditions, are borne towards those regions 
 where moisture is most needed, to descend gently 
 and be lost in showers that give earth life, until 
 the sky above is clear again, and all the fields 
 below are green with growing things so, thought 
 Kobert Lauderdale, should wealth follow a reason 
 able and beneficial course of constant distribution 
 and redistribution, to promote which was a moral 
 obligation upon those through whose hands it 
 passed. He was not sure that it was in any way 
 his duty to leave vast sums for charities, nor to 
 hasten the subdivision of the property in any 
 violent way ; for he knew well enough that sudden 
 divisions generally mean the forcible depression 
 of values, in which case wealth, of which the 
 
THE EALSTONS. 71 
 
 income being spent regularly should find its way 
 to the points where it is most needed, must, on 
 the contrary, become dormant until values are re 
 stored, if indeed they ever are restored altogether. 
 
 If he had been the father of one or more chil 
 dren, there is no knowing how he might have 
 acted. If there had been in the whole family one 
 man whom he sincerely trusted to act wisely, he 
 might have left him the bulk of the fortune, 
 giving each of the others a sum which would have 
 been large compared with what they had of their 
 own, but wholly insignificant by the side of the 
 main property. But no such selection was possi 
 ble. His brother was a very old man, wholly un 
 fitted for the purpose. His brother s son was a 
 miser, and a dull one at that, in Robert s estima 
 tion. John Ralston was not to be thought of for 
 a moment. Hamilton Bright would have answered 
 the conditions, but he was far removed in relation 
 ship, being a descendant of Robert Lauderdale s 
 uncle through a female line. Nevertheless, Robert 
 Lauderdale hesitated. 
 
 It was perhaps natural that Alexander Junior 
 should believe that he was the proper person for 
 his uncle to select as the principal heir. He was 
 the only son of the eldest of the family. He was 
 a man of stainless reputation, occupying a position 
 of high importance and trust. No one could have 
 denied that he was scrupulous in business matters 
 
72 THE EALSTONS. 
 
 to a degree rare even amongst the most honourable 
 men of his own city. He was comparatively young, 
 being only fifty years old, and he might live a 
 quarter of a century to administer and hold to 
 gether the Lauderdale estate, for his health was 
 magnificent and his strength of iron. 
 
 He had thought it all over daily for so many 
 years, that he could see no possible reason why he 
 should not be the principal heir. In arguing the 
 case, he told himself that his uncle was not capri 
 cious, that he would certainly not leave his fortune 
 to Hamilton Bright, who was the only other sensi 
 ble man of business in the whole connection, and 
 that it was generally in the nature of very rich 
 men to wish to know that their wealth was to be 
 kept together after they were dead. No one could 
 possibly do that better than Alexander Lauderdale 
 Junior. 
 
 Nevertheless, he felt conscious that his uncle 
 disliked him personally, and in moments of depres 
 sion, when he had taken too little exercise and his 
 liver was torpid, the certainty of this caused him 
 much uneasiness. There was no apparent reason 
 for it, and it suggested to his self-satisfied nature 
 the idea that some caprice entered, after all, into 
 the nature of his uncle. On such occasions he 
 rarely failed to instruct Mrs. Lauderdale to ask 
 uncle Robert to dinner, and to be particularly care 
 ful that the fish should be perfect. Uncle Kobert 
 
THE RALSTONS. 73 
 
 was fond of fish and a quiet family party. Katha 
 rine was his favourite, but he liked Mrs. Lauder- 
 dale, and his brother, the old philanthropist, was 
 congenial to him, though the two took very differ 
 ent views of humanity and the public good. 
 Alexander Senior s dream was to get possession of 
 all Robert s millions and distribute them within a 
 week amongst a number of asylums and charitable 
 institutions which he patronized. He should then 
 feel that he had done a good work and that his 
 benevolent instincts had been satisfied. He some 
 times sat in his study in a cloud of smoke for 
 he smoked execrable tobacco perpetually and 
 tried to persuade himself that brother Bob 
 might perhaps after all leave him the whole for 
 tune. There would be great joy among the idiots 
 on that day, thought old Alexander, as the two- 
 cent Virginia cheroot dropped from his hand, and 
 he fell asleep in his well-worn armchair. And 
 then came dreams of unbounded charity, of un 
 limited improvement and education of the poor 
 and deficient. -The greatest men of the age should 
 be employed to devote their lives to the happiness 
 of the poor little blind boys, and of the little 
 girls born deaf, and of the vacantly staring blear- 
 eyed youths whom nature had made carelessly, and 
 whom God had sent into the world, perhaps, as a 
 means of grace to those more richly endowed. 
 For old Alexander was charitable to every one 
 
74 THE RALSTONS. 
 
 even to the Supreme Being, whose motives he ven 
 tured to judge. He was incapable of an unkind 
 thought, and in the heaven of his old fancy he 
 would have founded an asylum for reformed devils 
 and would not have hesitated to beg a subscription 
 of Satan himself, being quite ready to believe that 
 the Prince of Hell might have his good moments. 
 He would have prayed cheerfully for Hhe puir 
 deil. There is no limit to the charity of such 
 over-kind hearts. Nothing seems to them so bad 
 but that, by gentleness and persuasion, it may at 
 last be made good. 
 
 He knew, of course, for Robert had told him, 
 that he was not to have the millions even during 
 the few remaining years of his life, and he bore 
 his brother no malice for the decision. Robert 
 promised him that he should have plenty of money 
 for his poor people, but did not hesitate to say that 
 if he had the whole property he would pauperize 
 half the city of New York in six months. 
 
 " You d give every newsboy and messenger boy 
 in the city a roast turkey for dinner every day," 
 laughed Robert. 
 
 "If I thought it might improve the condition 
 of poor boys, I certainly should," answered the 
 philanthropist, gravely. " I m fond of roast turkey 
 myself with cranberry sauce and chestnuts 
 inside. Why shouldn t the poor little fellows 
 have it, too, if every one had enough money ? " 
 
THE R ALSTONS. 75 
 
 "If there were enough money to go round, 
 creation would be turned into a kitchen for a 
 week, and into a hospital for six months after 
 wards," observed Kobert Lauderdale. " Fortunately, 
 money s scarcer than greediness." 
 
 And on the whole, there was much wisdom in 
 this plain view, which to Kobert himself presented 
 a clear picture of the condition of mankind in 
 general in regard to money and its distribution. 
 
 It would not have been natural if even the least 
 money-loving members of the family had not often 
 speculated, each in his or her own way, about the 
 chances of receiving something very considerable 
 when old Robert died. He had been generous to 
 them all, according to his lights, but he had not 
 considered that any of them were objects of char 
 ity. The true conditions of his brother s household 
 life had been carefully concealed from him, until 
 Katharine had, almost accidentally, given him an 
 insight into her father s family methods, so to say. 
 Nevertheless, he had long known that Alexander 
 Junior must have much more money than he was 
 commonly thought to possess, and his mode of 
 living, as compared with his fortune, proved con 
 clusively that he hoarded what he had. He must 
 have known that a large share of the estate must 
 ultimately come to him, and he could assuredly 
 have had no doubts as to its solidity, since it con 
 sisted entirely in land and houses. What was he 
 
76 THE RALSTONS. 
 
 hoarding his income for ? That was the question 
 which naturally suggested itself to Robert, and the 
 only answer he could find, and the one which 
 accorded perfectly with his own knowledge of his 
 nephew s character, was that Alexander was a 
 miser. As the certainty solidified in the rich 
 man s mind, he became more and more deter 
 mined that Alexander Junior should know noth 
 ing of the dispositions of the will. 
 
 And he had rigidly kept his own counsel until 
 that day when he had confided in Katharine. 
 When he was well again, or, at all events, so far 
 recovered as to feel sure that he might live some 
 time longer, he regretted what he had done. Weak 
 ened by illness, he had acted on impulse in making 
 a young girl the repository of his secret intentions. 
 Moreover, he had not intended to part with the 
 right to change them whenever he should see fit, 
 and the problem of the distribution of wealth 
 continued to absorb his attention. He had great 
 faith in Katharine, but, after all, she was not a 
 man, as he told himself repeatedly. She might 
 be expected to confide in John Ralston, who might, 
 on some unfortunate day, drink a glass of wine 
 too much and reveal the facts of the case. He 
 would have been even more disturbed than he 
 was, had he known that Alexander Junior sus 
 pected his daughter of knowing the truth. 
 
 Robert Lauderdale had certainly not made her 
 
THE RALSTONS. 77 
 
 life easier for her by what he had done. During 
 several days her father from time to time repeated 
 his questions. 
 
 "I hope that you are in an altered frame of 
 mind, Katharine/ he said. " This perpetual obsti 
 nacy on the part of my child is very painful to me." 
 
 " I might say something of the same kind," Kath 
 arine answered. "It s painful as you choose to 
 call it to me, to be questioned again and again 
 about a thing I won t speak of. Why will you do 
 it? You seem to think that I hold my tongue 
 out of sheer eccentricity, just to annoy you. Is 
 that what you think? If so, you re very much 
 mistaken." 
 
 " It s the only possible explanation of your un- 
 dutiful conduct. I repeat that I m very much 
 pained by your behaviour." 
 
 "Look here, papa!" cried Katharine, turning 
 upon him suddenly. "Don t drag in the question 
 of duty. It s one s duty to keep a secret when 
 one s heard it whether one wanted to hear it or 
 not. There s no reason in the world why I should 
 repeat to you what uncle Robert told me any 
 more than why I should go and tell Charlotte, or 
 Hester Crowdie, or anybody else." 
 
 " Katharine ! " exclaimed Alexander Junior, 
 sternly, "you are very impertinent." 
 
 " Because I tell you what I think my duty is ? 
 I m sorry you should think so. And besides, since 
 
78 THE RALSTONS. 
 
 you seem so very anxious that I should betray a 
 secret, I m afraid that it wouldn t be very safe 
 with you." 
 
 Alexander Junior did not wince under the cut. 
 He was firmly persuaded that he was in the right. 
 
 "If you were not a grown-up woman, I should 
 send you to your room," he said, coldly. 
 
 "Yes, I realize the advantage of being. grown 
 up," answered Katharine, with contempt. 
 
 "But I shall not tolerate this conduct any 
 longer," continued Alexander Junior. "I will not 
 be defied by my own daughter." 
 
 " Charlotte defied you for twenty years," replied 
 Katharine, " and she s not half as strong as I am. 
 And I never defied you, and I don t now. That s 
 not the way I should put it. I m not so dramatic, 
 and as long as I won t, why, I won t, that s all, 
 and there s no need of calling it defiance, nor by 
 any other big name." 
 
 Alexander was a cold man, and it was not likely 
 that he , should lose his temper again as he had 
 when he had walked home with her from Kobert 
 Lauderdale s. He began to recognize that in the 
 matter of imposing his will forcibly, he had met 
 his match. He had generally succeeded in dom 
 inating those with whom he came into close rela 
 tions in life, but his hard and freezing exterior had 
 contributed more to the effect than his intellectual 
 gifts. Finding that his personality failed to pro- 
 
THE E ALSTONS. 79 
 
 duce the usual result, he temporized, for he was 
 not good at sharp answers. 
 
 "There s no denying the fact," he said, "that 
 uncle Robert has told you about his will. Can 
 you deny that ? " 
 
 The latter question is a terrible weapon, and is 
 the favourite one of dull persons when dealing 
 with truthful ones, because it is so easily used and 
 so effective. Katharine was familiar with it, and 
 knew that her father had few others, and none so 
 strong. She met it in the approved fashion, which 
 is as good as any, though none are satisfactory. 
 
 " That s an absurd question," she answered. 
 "You ve made up your mind beforehand, and 
 nothing I could say would make you change it. 
 If I denied that uncle Robert had told me any 
 thing about his will, you wouldn t believe me." 
 
 " Certainly not ! " replied Alexander, falling into 
 the trap like a school-boy. 
 
 "Then it s clear that nothing I can say can 
 make you change your mind in other words, that 
 you re prejudiced," said Katharine, in cool triumph. 
 " And as that s undeniable, from your own words, I 
 don t see that it s of the slightest use to ask me 
 questions." 
 
 Her father bit his clean-shaven upper lip and 
 frowned severely. 
 
 "I don t know where you get such sophistries 
 from ! " he answered, in impotent arrogance. " Un- 
 
80 THE EALSTONS. 
 
 less it s that Mr. Griggs who teaches you," he 
 added, taking a new line of aggression. 
 
 " Why do yon say that Mr. Griggs, as though 
 he were an adventurer or a fool ? " enquired Katha 
 rine, arching her black brows. 
 
 " Because I suspect him of being both," answered 
 Alexander Junior, jumping at the suggestion with 
 an affectation of keenness. 
 
 Katharine laughed. 
 
 " That s too absurd, papa ! You d have said just 
 the same thing if I d said murderer 7 and thief. 
 You know as well as I do that Mr. Griggs is a 
 distinguished man, I didn t say that he was a 
 great genius, who has got where he is by hard 
 work and good work. He s no more of an adven 
 turer than you are." 
 
 " I ve heard strange stories of his youth, which 
 I shall certainly not repeat to you/ answered 
 Alexander, snapping his lips in the fine conscious 
 ness of his own really unimpeachable virtue. 
 
 One proverb, at least, is true, amidst many high- 
 sounding, conventional lies. Virtue is emphatically 
 its own reward. The scorn of those who possess 
 it for those who do not, proves the fact beyond all 
 doubt. 
 
 "I m not going to discuss Mr. Griggs, and I 
 don t want to hear about his youth," answered 
 Katharine. "You ve taken an unreasonable dis 
 like for him, and there s no necessity for your 
 meeting any oftener than you please." 
 
THE RALSTONS. 81 
 
 "Fortunately, no there s no necessity. I should 
 be sorry to associate with such men, and I regret 
 very much that you should choose your friends 
 amongst them. Since you ve announced your in 
 tention of defying me and disregarding all my 
 wishes, we ll say no more about that for the pres 
 ent. Perhaps I shall find means to bring you to 
 reason which will surprise you. In the mean 
 time, I consider that you are acting very unwisely 
 in refusing to communicate what you know about 
 the will." 
 
 " Possibly but I m willing to abide by my 
 mistake," answered Katharine, calmly. 
 
 " It is of course certain," continued her father, 
 "that a very large sum of money will come to us 
 when my uncle Robert dies some day. Let us 
 hope that it may be long before that happens." 
 
 "By all means, let s hope so," observed Kath 
 arine. 
 
 " Don t interrupt me, Katharine. You can at 
 least show me the common courtesy of listening to 
 what I say, whatever position you may choose to 
 take up against me. As I was saying, a great deal 
 of money will come to some of us. We do not 
 know exactly how much it will be, though I ve no 
 doubt that you re acquainted with all the details. 
 But I admit that you can t possibly appreciate 
 how important it is for us all to know how this 
 great fortune is to be disposed of, and who has 
 
82 THE RALSTONS. 
 
 been selected as the administrator. The happiness 
 of many persons, the safety of the fortune itself, 
 depend upon these things being known in time." 
 
 " I don t see what they can have to do with the 
 safety of the fortune. Houses don t run away. 
 I ve often heard you say that uncle Kobert has 
 everything in houses. I suppose one person will 
 get one house and another will get another." 
 
 " I m not here to explain the principle of busi 
 ness to you," said Alexander. " Those are things 
 you can t understand. The death of a man of such 
 immense wealth necessarily affects public affairs 
 and the market, even if his fortune is largely in 
 real estate. It is a security to the world at large 
 to feel that a proper person has succeeded in the 
 management of the estate." 
 
 " I suppose that uncle Kobert understands that, 
 too," observed Katharine. 
 
 "In a way, of course yes, in a certain way he 
 must, I ve no doubt. But these great men never 
 seem to realize what will happen when they die." 
 
 "You speak of uncle Robert s death as though 
 you expected to hear of it this evening. He s 
 almost quite well." 
 
 Again Alexander Junior bit his lip. He had, 
 perhaps, never before been so conscious that when 
 his personality failed to produce the effect he de 
 sired, his intelligence had no chance of accomplish 
 ing anything unaided. 
 
THE R ALSTONS. 83 
 
 " This is intolerable ! " he exclaimed, with pro 
 found disgust. " Since you can be neither decently 
 civil nor in any way reasonable, I shall leave you 
 to think over your conduct." 
 
 This is a threat which rarely inspires terror in 
 the offender. Katharine did not wish to go too 
 far, and received the announcement in silence, sin 
 cerely hoping that he would really go away and 
 leave her to herself. Such scenes occurred almost 
 every day, and she was weary of them, not more 
 so, perhaps, than Alexander was of perpetual de 
 feat. She could not understand why he was so 
 persistent, for it seemed to her that she showed 
 him plainly enough how determined she was to 
 keep silence. His reproof did not affect her in 
 the least, for she knew she was right. She won 
 dered, indeed, from time to time, that a man so 
 undoubtedly upright as he was should so press her 
 to betray a confidence, when he had all his life 
 preached to her about the value of reticence and 
 discretion, and she rightly attributed his conduct 
 to his excessive anxiety for the money, overriding 
 even his rigid principles. She had often admired 
 him, merely for that very rigidity, which appealed 
 to her as being masculine and strong. She despised 
 him the more when she had discovered that the 
 only motive able to bend the stiff back of his 
 scrupulous theory and practice was the love of 
 money, pure and simple. She did not believe that 
 
84 THE R ALSTONS. 
 
 he would have so derogated to save her life. The 
 very arrogance of his manner showed how far he 
 knew himself to be from his own ideal. He was 
 trying to carry it through as a matter of right. 
 
 Katharine longed to confide in John Ralston. 
 He was not so free as he had been in his idle days, 
 a few months earlier. Having accepted a position, 
 he was determined to do his best, and he stayed 
 down town every day as long as there was the least 
 possibility of finding anything which he could do in 
 the bank. 
 
 Not long after the last-recorded interview with 
 Katharine, Alexander Junior, being down town, 
 had some reason to speak of a matter of business 
 with the senior partner in Beman Brothers , and 
 entered the bank early in the afternoon. It was a 
 vast establishment on the ground floor, a few steps 
 above the level of the street. Being a place where 
 there was much going and coming and active work, 
 the office had not the air of icily polished perfection 
 which characterized the inner fane of the Trust 
 Company. The counters and seats were dark, and 
 rubbed smooth with use, like the floor ; the doors 
 were worn with constant handling, but moved 
 easily and noiselessly on their hinges. The brass 
 gratings and rails were bright with long years of 
 daily leathering. Everything was large, strong, 
 and workmanlike, as a big engine, which is well 
 kept but gets very little rest. There was the low, 
 
THE EALSTONS. 85 
 
 breathing, softly shuffling sound in the air, which 
 is heard where many are busy and no one speaks a 
 superfluous word. 
 
 Alexander Lauderdale passed through the great 
 outer office and caught sight of John Ralston, 
 bending over some writing at a small desk by him 
 self. Ralston was at that time between five and six 
 and twenty years of age, a wiry, lean young man, 
 with a dark face. There was more restlessness 
 than strength in the expression, perhaps, but there 
 was no lack of energy, a quality which, when it 
 does not find vent in a congenial activity, is apt to 
 produce a look of discontent. Possibly, too, there 
 might be a dash of Indian blood in the Ralston 
 family. There was certainly none in the Lauder- 
 dales. John s bright brown eyes were turned upon 
 his work, as Alexander passed near him, but 
 glanced up quickly a moment later and saw him. 
 A look of contempt darkened the young man s feat 
 ures like a shadow, and was instantly gone again. 
 The two men had not exchanged half a dozen words 
 in eighteen months. The brown eyes went back to 
 the page, and the sinewy, nervous hand went on 
 writing, and the straight, smooth hair on the top of 
 Ralston s head, as he bent over the desk, became 
 again the most prominent object, for its extreme 
 blackness, in that part of the office. 
 
 Alexander Junior was ushered into the elder Mr. 
 Beman s private room, by a grave young man in a 
 
86 I HE HALS TONS. 
 
 jacket with gilt buttons. The name of Lander dale 
 was a passport in any place of business in the city. 
 
 "By the way," he said, after exchanging a few 
 words about the matter which had brought him 
 there, "you ve taken back that young cousin of 
 ours, Jack Ralston. How s the fellow getting 
 on?" 
 
 " Ralston? Oh, yes Mr. Lauderdale wanted 
 him to try again yes well, he s doing pretty 
 well, I m told. But they tell me he can t do any 
 thing, though he wants to. Praiseworthy, though, 
 very praiseworthy, to try and work, when he s sure 
 to have plenty of money one of these days. I like 
 the boy myself," added Mr. Beman, with slightly 
 increasing interest. " He s got some good in him, 
 somewhere, I ll be bound." 
 
 " Does he keep pretty steady ? " enquired Alex 
 ander Junior. " You knew he drank, I suppose ? " 
 
 "Drinks!" exclaimed Mr. Beman, rather in 
 credulously. " Nonsense don t believe it." 
 
 Mr. Beman hated society, and spent many of 
 his leisure hours in a club chiefly frequented by 
 old gentlemen. 
 
 " Oh, no ! It s quite true, I assure you. I thought 
 you knew, or I wouldn t have mentioned it being 
 a relation. I hope he won t make a fool of him 
 self, now that he s with you. Good morning." 
 
 " Good morning, my dear Lauderdale," answered 
 the banker, cordially shaking hands. 
 
THE R ALSTONS. 87 
 
 Alexander left the bank and returned to his own 
 office, questioning himself by the way concerning 
 the right and wrong side of what he had just done, 
 in undermining whatever confidence Mr. Beman 
 might have in John Ealston. By dint of moral 
 exertion, he succeeded in inducing his Scotch busi 
 ness instinct to admit that it was fair to warn an 
 old friend if the habits of a young man he had 
 lately taken into employment were not exactly what 
 they should be. He resolutely closed his eyes to 
 the fact that he had waited several days, until 
 something had required that he should see the 
 banker, in order to ask the careless question, and 
 that, during all that time, Katharine s obstinacy 
 had rankled in his brooding temper like an unre- 
 turned blow. He did not wish to think, either, 
 that he had perpetrated a small act of indirect 
 vengeance. He was very intent upon being con 
 scientious it would not do even to remember that 
 any under-thoughts had floated through his brain 
 beneath the current which he desired to see. 
 
 It was easy enough to forget it all, by merely 
 allowing his mind to turn again to the question of 
 his uncle s millions. That subject had a fascina 
 tion which never palled. If he is to be excused at 
 all for this and many other things which he subse 
 quently did, his excuse must be stated now, or 
 never. 
 
 Let this one fact be remembered, for the sake of 
 
88 THE E ALSTONS. 
 
 his humanity. He had spent the best years of his 
 life in the inner office of a great Trust Company. 
 That alone explains many things. Having origi 
 nally been in moderate circumstances, he had been 
 brought into daily contact for a long period with 
 the process of hoarding money. He had seen 
 how sums, originally insignificant, doubled and 
 trebled themselves, and grew to fair dimensions by 
 the simplest of all means, by being kept locked 
 up. He had not been by nature grasping, nor 
 covetous of the goods of others in any inordinate 
 degree, but he had that inborn craving for the actual 
 money itself, for seeing it and touching it, and 
 knowing where it is, which makes one small boy 
 ask his father for a penny to put by the side of 
 the other, while his brother spends his mite on a 
 sugar-plum, eats it, and runs off to play. Day by 
 day, month by month, year by year, he had seen 
 that putting of one penny by the side of the other 
 going on under his eyes and personal supervision. 
 It had been his duty to see that the pennies stayed 
 where they were put. It is not strange that, with 
 his temperament, he should have done for himself 
 what he did for others. And with the doing of it 
 came the habit of secrecy, which belongs to the 
 miser s passion, the instinctive denial of the pos 
 session, the mechanical and constantly recurring 
 avowal of an imaginary poverty. All that came 
 as surely as the dream of countless gold, to be 
 
THE It ALSTON 8. 89 
 
 counted forever and ever, with the absolute cer 
 tainty of never reaching the end, and as the night 
 mare of the empty safe, more real and terrible 
 than the live horror of the waking man who comes 
 home and finds that the wife he loves has left 
 him. 
 
 He knew that hideous scene by heart. It visited 
 him sometimes with no apparent cause. He knew 
 how in the night he always dreamed that it hap 
 pened at night he went to his own box in the 
 Safe Deposit Vault, his own familiar box, as in 
 reality he went regularly twice in every week. He 
 felt the thrill of secret, heart-warming anticipation 
 as he came near to it. His heart began to beat as 
 it always did then, and only then, giving him a 
 queer, breathless sensation which he loved, and 
 that peculiar thirsty dryness in the throat. He 
 turned the key, he pressed the spring, and out it 
 came against his greedy, trembling hand empty. 
 At that point he awoke, clutching at the thin, 
 tough chain by which the real key hung about his 
 neck. His worst fear for years had been to dream 
 that dream his highest pleasure had been to go, 
 after dreaming it, and find it false, the drawer full, 
 all safe, the good United States Bonds filed away 
 in dockets of a hundred thousand dollars each, 
 untouched and unfingered. 
 
 He knew the fascination, the dumb horror, the 
 soul-uplifting delight of a great passion, of one 
 
90 THE R ALSTONS. 
 
 which is said to be the last and greatest, if not the 
 worst, that plays the devil s music on the wrung 
 heartstrings of men. That is his only excuse for 
 what he did. Dares humanity allege its humanity 
 in extenuation of its humanity ? 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 BEFORE John Ralston had gone back to Beman 
 Brothers , it had been easy enough for him and 
 Katharine to meet in the course of the day, but 
 the difficulties had increased unavoidably of late. 
 Of course they saw each other in society, and 
 as members of the same tribe they were often 
 asked to the same parties, though that was by no 
 means a matter of certainty. It was necessary to 
 have a fixed understanding which should enable 
 them to be sure of meeting and communicating 
 with one another, and of knowing from day to day 
 whether the next meeting were positively certain 
 or not. John s hour for going down town was 
 fixed, but the time of his returning was not. That 
 depended on the amount of work there chanced to 
 be for him. at the bank, sometimes more, some 
 times less. 
 
 The habits of the Lauderdale household in Clin 
 ton Place were also very exact. Alexander Junior 
 took charge, as it were, of the day, as soon as it 
 appeared, and doled it out in portions. Breakfast 
 was at half past eight, and he expected his wife 
 and daughter to make their appearance in time to 
 91 
 
92 THE KALSTONS. 
 
 see him at least finish the solid steak or brace of 
 chops with which he fortified himself for work. 
 His father always came down late, in order to be 
 able to smoke as soon as he had finished eating, 
 without annoying any one, for the old man seemed 
 to subsist largely upon tobacco smoke and fresh 
 milk which is a strange mixture, but not un 
 healthy for those who are accustomed to it. That 
 he smoked Old Virginia Cheroots at two cents 
 each, was his misfortune and not his fault. Prac 
 tically he lived upon his son, for he had long ago 
 given away everything he possessed, and even the 
 old house had passed into Alexander s hands for 
 a very moderate equivalent, which the philanthro 
 pist had already spent in advance upon the intro 
 duction of a new heating apparatus in his favourite 
 asylum. Alexander Junior supplied him with the 
 necessaries of life, and by almost imperceptible 
 degrees of change had at last substituted the che 
 roots for the fine Havanas to which his father had 
 been addicted in his comparative prosperity. From 
 time to time the old man made a mild remark 
 about the deterioration of cigars. The observations 
 of his friends, after smoking one of his, were less 
 mild. Alexander Senior attributed the change to 
 the McKinley Bill. Alexander Junior did not 
 smoke. He left the house every morning at a 
 quarter past nine, before the fumigation had begun. 
 Katharine had always been free to go out for a 
 
THE E ALSTONS. 93 
 
 walk alone in the early hours since she had been 
 considered to be grown up, and she took advantage 
 of the privilege now in order to meet John Rals 
 ton. He was expected to be at the bank at half 
 past nine, and, as it was near the Rector Street 
 Station, he could calculate his time with precision if 
 he found himself near a station of the elevated road. 
 He and Katharine had a simple system of sig 
 nals. John came down to Clinton Place by the Sixth 
 Avenue elevated, and got out at the corner. Thence 
 he walked past the Lauderdales house to Fifth 
 Avenue, and crossed Washington Square to South 
 Fifth Avenue, by which he reached the Bleecker 
 Street Station of the elevated railway. The usual 
 place of meeting was on the south side of the 
 Square. If Katharine were coming that morning 
 there was something red in her window, a bit of 
 ribbon, a red fan, or anything she chanced to pick 
 up of the required colour. John could see it at a 
 glance. He, on his part, let fall a few seeds or 
 grains on the well-swept lower step of the house as 
 he passed, to show that he had gone by. The con 
 vention was that the signal should consist of any 
 kind of seed or grain. If, when she went out, 
 there was nothing on the step, which very rarely 
 happened, Katharine went back into the house and 
 waited, easily finding an excuse if any one remarked 
 her return, by alleging a mismatched pair of gloves, 
 or a forgotten parasol or umbrella. 
 
94 THE R ALSTONS. 
 
 The system worked perfectly. Two or three 
 grains of wheat, or -rice, or rye, a couple of pepper 
 corns, a little millet, varied daily, according to the 
 supply John had in his pockets, and dropped near 
 one end of the step, were all that was required, for 
 it was rarely that more than a few minutes elapsed 
 between their being deposited there and the moment 
 when Katharine saw them. Generally, the sparrows 
 had got them before any one else came out. The 
 only person who ever noticed the frequent presence 
 of seeds of some kind on the doorstep was the old 
 philanthropist, who made illogical reflections upon 
 the habits of the birds that brought them there, as 
 he naturally supposed. 
 
 With regard to the place of meeting, the two 
 changed it from time to time, or from day to day, 
 as they thought best. Their minutes were counted, 
 as John could not afford to be late at Beman 
 Brothers , and sometimes they only exchanged a 
 few words, agreeing to meet in the evening, or, 
 since the spring had come, after John s business 
 hours. Hitherto, they believed that none of their 
 acquaintances had seen them, and they believed 
 that none ever would. There seemed to be no rea 
 son why people they knew should be wandering in 
 the purlieus and slums about South Fifth Avenue 
 and Green Street, for instance, at nine o clock in 
 the morning. A few women in society patronized 
 the little foreign shop in the Avenue, near the 
 
THE B ALSTONS. 95 
 
 Square, where artificial flowers were made, but if 
 they ever went there themselves, it was much later 
 in the day. 
 
 They met on the morning after Alexander Junior 
 had spoken to Mr. Beman about John. The latter 
 was standing before the church on the south side 
 of Washington Square, puffing at the last end of a 
 cigarette, when he saw Katharine s figure, clad, as 
 usual, in grey homespun, emerging from one of the 
 walks which ended opposite to him. The colour 
 came a little to her face as she caught sight of him. 
 
 She walked quickly, and began to speak before 
 she reached him. 
 
 " Oh Jack ! I do so want to see you ! " She 
 held out her hand as he lifted his hat. 
 
 Their hands remained clasped a second longer, 
 perhaps, than if they had been mere acquaintances, 
 and their eyes were still meeting when their hands 
 had parted. 
 
 " Yes so do I," answered Ralston, with small 
 regard for grammar. " You look tired, dear. What 
 is it?" 
 
 " It s this life I don t know how much longer 
 I can stand it," answered Katharine, and they 
 began to walk on. 
 
 " Has anything happened ? Has your father 
 been teasing you again ? " John asked, quickly. 
 
 " Oh, yes ! He leaves me 110 peace. It s a suc 
 cession of pitched battles whenever we meet. He s 
 
96 THE RALSTONS. 
 
 made up his mind to know what uncle Robert said 
 to me, and I ve made up mine that he shan t. 
 What can I do ? Why, Jack, I wouldn t even tell 
 you ! " 
 
 "I don t want to know," answered Ralston. 
 " Uncle Robert isn t going to die for twenty years, 
 and I hope he may live thirty. Of course, when 
 he dies, if we re alive, we shall have heaps of 
 money all round, and your father and grandfather 
 will probably get the biggest shares. But there ll 
 be plenty for us all. Your father seems to me to 
 have lost his head about it." 
 
 " He really has. It s the same thing every day. 
 He tells me that I m all kinds of things un- 
 dutiful, and impertinent, and intolerable alto 
 gether a perfect fiend, according to him. Then he 
 threatens me " 
 
 " Threatens you ? " repeated John, with a quick 
 frown and a change of tone. " He d better not ! " 
 
 " Well he says that he ll find means to make 
 me speak, and that sort of thing. I don t see 
 myself what means he has at his command, I m 
 sure. I suppose when he s angry he doesn t know 
 what he s saying. So I try to smile but I don t 
 like it." 
 
 " I should think not ! But as you say, he can t 
 really do anything except talk. He s permanently 
 angry, though. He came into the bank yesterday 
 and passed near me. I saw his face." 
 
THE RALSTONS. 97 
 
 John added no comment, but his tone expressed 
 well enough what he felt. 
 
 " I know," answered Katharine. " He always 
 has that expression now, one only used to see it 
 now and then, as though he meant to have some 
 thing, if he had to kill somebody to get it. It s 
 the strangest thing ! He, who has always preached 
 to me about keeping the secret of other people s 
 confidence ! It s perfectly incomprehensible ! It s 
 as though his whole nature had suddenly changed." 
 
 "He s wild to know how much he s to have," 
 observed John, thoughtfully. "-It attacked him 
 when they expected uncle Eobert to die. And 
 now that he knows that you know, he means to 
 wring it out of you. I hate him. I should like 
 to wring his neck." 
 
 "Jack!" 
 
 " Oh, well of course he s your father, and I m 
 very sorry for expressing myself all the same : 
 he finished his sentence inwardly. " At all events, 
 he s got to treat you properly, or I shall interfere. 
 This can t go on, you know." 
 
 " You, Jack dear ? What could you do ? " 
 
 " What could I do ? Take you away from him, 
 of course. I m your husband. Don t forget that, 
 Katharine." 
 
 "No, dear I m not likely to. But still I 
 don t see nothing s changed, you know. The 
 difficulties are just the same as they ever were." 
 
 VOL. I. 7 
 
98 LliE RALSTON S. 
 
 "Yes. But the reasons are different. I can t 
 allow you to suffer. You know that after all that 
 trouble last winter my mother insisted on making 
 over half the property to me. Of course things go 
 on just as they did, and we share everything. But 
 I ve got it all the same six thousand a year, if 
 I choose to call it my own. The reason why we 
 don t tell everybody that we re married is, first, 
 because it would make such an incredible row in 
 the family, and secondly, because, as my mother 
 and I have so little between us, she would have to 
 reduce ever so many things if we set up at house 
 keeping with her, until I can make something. As 
 long as you re happy at home, that s all very well. 
 We re young enough to wait six months or a year, 
 though we don t like it, and I m going in for earn 
 ing the respect of the Beman Brethren they re 
 really awfully nice to me, I must say. Anything 
 more ignorant than I am you can t imagine ! " 
 
 " Never mind, Jack you re learning, at all 
 events," said Katharine, in an encouraging tone. 
 " And I know, dear I know how you care for me, 
 and how brave you are to wait for the sake of 
 what s nice to your mother " 
 
 " Oh, don t talk of courage ! It s what I ought 
 to have done long ago, if I hadn t been a born 
 loafer and idiot. But if things are going to be 
 different since your beloved father has got this 
 idea into his head, if he s going to torment you 
 
THE RALSTONS. 99 
 
 perpetually, and make your life a burden, and call 
 you bad names out of the prayer-book that sort 
 of thing, you know why, then, we must just do it, 
 that s all just face the row, and the economies, 
 and all, and you must come to my mother s." 
 
 " But, Jack just think of what would hap 
 pen " 
 
 " Well just think what s happening now. It s 
 much worse, I m sure, and if it s going to last, I 
 shall just do it. My mother always says that she 
 wishes we could be married. Well we are mar 
 ried. There s nothing to be done but to tell her 
 so. Besides, for her part, she d be delighted. 
 You don t know her! She s just like a man in 
 some things. She d put up with anything boiled 
 beef and cabbage, and a horse-car fare on Sundays 
 by way of an outing. Only, of course, if it can 
 possibly be helped, I don t want her to have to 
 pinch and screw about her gloves, and her cabs, 
 and the little things she likes and has had all her 
 life. That s why I m working. If I could only 
 get a salary of two thousand a year, we could man 
 age. I ve figured it all out it s just that two 
 thousand that would make the difference it s 
 ridiculous, isn t it ? " 
 
 "It s worse," said Katharine. "It s abomi 
 nable." 
 
 "Yes it s everything you like or don t like, 
 rather. But if you re going to suffer, we must do 
 
100 THE RALSTONS. 
 
 as I say. I ll tell you how we ll manage it. 
 You ll just go up to our house some morning about 
 ten o clock, and go out of town with my mother for 
 a few days. I ll get a holiday from Beman s, and 
 I ll go and see your mother and tell her, and then 
 I ll go down town and face your father. His office 
 is a nice, quiet place, I believe. He s nothing much 
 to do but to be trusted, and he sits all day long by 
 himself in the company s showcase, and people 
 trust him. That s his profession. He represents 
 the moral side of business. Once I ve told him, 
 I ll disappear for a while, going to you, of course, 
 and we three will come back together and tell 
 the world that we ve been quietly married which 
 is quite true. Lots of people do that nowadays 
 to get out of the expense and fuss of a dress parade 
 wedding. How does that strike you ? " 
 
 "Oh, it s clever enough, and brave of you as 
 you always are to be ready to face the parents 
 alone. We shall have to do something of the kind 
 in the end, you know, because we can t be married 
 over again. Uncle Robert suggested the same sort 
 of plan last winter; only he wanted us to go to 
 his place up the river, and he was going to ask the 
 whole family. The dear old man forgot that his 
 servants would remember for the rest of their lives 
 that there had been no marriage service. It wasn t 
 practical." 
 
 "By the bye, where s our marriage certificate?" 
 
THE E ALSTONS. 101 
 
 asked John, suddenly. " You took it, you know. 
 You never told me what became of it." 
 
 "Oh, uncle Robert said he d keep it with his 
 papers. I suppose it s as safe there as anywhere. 
 Still if he were to die " 
 
 "It s all right, if he s kept it. It will be in a 
 safe place, properly endorsed. As he s the only 
 person who knows the secret, he d much better 
 keep it, and he s not at all likely to die now that 
 he s recovered. I d been meaning to ask you for 
 ever so long. But to go back if things get any 
 worse, or go on as badly as they re going now, do 
 you see any possible objection to doing what I 
 propose ? " 
 
 "Well, the principal objection is that it will 
 hamper your mother, Jack. I d rather suffer a 
 great deal more than I m likely to, than thrust my 
 self upon her. I know you ll tell me that she s 
 very fond of me and wants to see us married, and 
 I know she s in earnest about it and means every 
 word she says. But I ve lived in a rigidly eco 
 nomical household, as they call it. I know what it 
 means, and it would be very difficult for any one 
 who s never been used to it. Don t think about it, 
 dear. Please don t. You know I come to you 
 with all my little woes but you mustn t take 
 them too seriously. You ll prevent me from speak 
 ing freely if you do, dear." 
 
 "It s my business to take your happiness seri- 
 
102 THE RALSTONS. 
 
 ously. I m not prepared to stand the idea of hav 
 ing your life made miserable on my account." 
 
 "But it isn t about you, Jack. It s altogether 
 about the question of uncle Robert s will." 
 
 " Never mind. I won t have you made unhappy 
 by anybody, do you understand? I ve got the right 
 of loving you, and the right of being your husband, 
 and if that isn t enough I ll take the right, I m in 
 earnest, Katharine." 
 
 He stood still on the pavement; she stopped, 
 also, and faced him. 
 
 " Yes, dear ; I know and I thank you," she said, 
 gently. " But it really isn t as bad as I made out. 
 I m irritated, and I want to be with you all the 
 time, and then the least little thing seems so much 
 bigger than it is. Please, please don t do anything 
 rash, Jack, or without telling me just what you re 
 going to do ! You know you are rash, dear I m 
 always a little afraid of what you may do when 
 you re angry." 
 
 "I certainly shan t be rash where you re con 
 cerned," answered Kalston. " You re too much to 
 me we are to each other and we mustn t risk 
 anything. But don t imagine, either, that if any 
 thing goes wrong I shan t know it, even if you 
 won t tell me. I can guess what you think of 
 from your face, you know I ve often done it." 
 
 "That s true I m sure I couldn t conceal any 
 thing from you for long," answered Katharine, 
 womanly wise. 
 
THE R ALSTONS. 103 
 
 She was concealing something from him at that 
 very moment, something which she had meant to 
 tell him, and would have told him, had he not 
 spoken so decidedly of what he meant to do if her 
 life were made unhappy. But she knew that he was 
 quite capable of doing anything which he said he 
 would do, no matter how rash. When she had 
 at first spoken, she had not altogether realized 
 how he would take up the question of her present 
 unhappiness as a matter for immediate and decisive 
 action. f She loved him all the better for it, but 
 she began to understand how careful she must be 
 in future. 
 
 John paused a moment after his last speech, and 
 looked into her grey eyes. Perhaps some little 
 doubt assailed him as to whether, if she tried, she 
 could not, perhaps, keep from him something he 
 wished to know the doubt from which men who 
 love are very rarely quite free. 
 
 "But promise me, Katharine," he said, presently, 
 "promise me that if you are really suffering you 
 will tell me, instead of just leaving me to guess." 
 
 " Ah you see ! " She laughed softly and hap 
 pily. "You re not so sure as you thought! Oh, 
 yes I ll tell you if anything dreadful happens." 
 
 " You d better ! " Ilalston laughed, too, out of 
 sheer delight at being with her, and his laugh 
 pleased her, for it came rarely. " And about your 
 father I 11 tell you what I think. His excite- 
 
104 THE RALSTONS. 
 
 merit will cool down as he sees that uncle Robert s 
 getting better, and he ll leave you alone. You see, 
 he ll be afraid that you ll go to uncle Robert and 
 say that you re being tormented to give up his 
 secret. And then uncle Robert will descend upon 
 Clinton Place and make a raid and raise Cain 
 and there ll be something to pay all round and no 
 pitch particularly hot. Do you see ? " 
 
 Katharine laughed again, but she understood 
 that what he said was reasonable enough. 
 
 "Now I must be going," said Ralston. "I m so 
 angry about it all that I m on the verge of being 
 funny, which isn t in my line. Can you come 
 to-morrow ? Is there any chance of seeing you 
 to-night?" 
 
 "I don t know. There s a little thing at the 
 Vanbmghs are you going ? " 
 
 "Not asked, worse luck ! " 
 
 " Then I won t go. How stupid of them not to 
 ask you. I suppose you haven t been near them 
 for months. Have you ? Confess ! " 
 
 " How can I do the card-leaving business now that 
 I m down town all day ? It isn t fair on a man. 
 Besides, the Vanbrughs needn t be so particular. 
 She s nice, though much nicer since she s given 
 up Sunday-schooling. The last time we talked she 
 knew all about the universe and the Bab faith and 
 the life everlasting and she was telling every 
 body. She hates me because I laughed. By Jove ! 
 
THE RALSTONS. 105 
 
 I must be going, though. To-morrow, then ? As 
 usual. I say, Katharine if you get a chance to 
 give your father the sharp answer that wrath par 
 ticularly dislikes, I hope you will and tell me 
 about it. Good-bye, sweetheart only sixteen 
 minutes to get to the bank ! " 
 
 (( You did it in fourteen and a half last week, 
 Jack," answered Katharine, holding his hand. 
 
 "Yes but I just caught the train I wouldn t 
 do it at all, if I could help it, you know." 
 
 " Of course not I mustn t be selfish. Hun, 
 dear and good-bye ! " 
 
 In a moment he was gone. She watched his 
 wiry, elastic movements as he ran at the top of his 
 speed towards the station of the elevated, to the 
 vicinity of which they had directed their walk 
 while they had been talking. As he disappeared, 
 flying up the covered iron stairs, two steps at 
 a time, she turned and walked briskly homeward. 
 The neighbourhood is a safe and quiet one, though 
 it is largely inhabited by foreigners, but she did not 
 care to slacken her pace till she got back to Wash 
 ington Square. Then she moved more slowly. 
 
 The spring was in the air and the sun was bright. 
 She sauntered leisurely through the walks, wonder 
 ing what the coming summer was to bring forth for 
 her, and all the months after people began to go 
 away. And she thought all the time of Ralston. 
 It seemed such an absurd and senseless thing that 
 
106 THE R ALSTONS. 
 
 they two, who were to be one day among the rich 
 est, and would be masters of all that the world can 
 give to people not endowed with what is not in the 
 world s gift or market that they two, being law 
 fully and christianly married, should be forced to 
 meet by stealth for a few moments, to be separated 
 again almost immediately by the necessity which 
 drove John every day to his desk as a junior clerk 
 in Mr. Beman s employment. A week a year 
 ten years, if uncle Robert lived so long and then, 
 if John went into the bank, the clerks, who were all 
 his seniors, would lift their pens from the paper in 
 the middle of a word to watch the representative of 
 so much wealth go by. And old Mr. Beman would 
 rise from his seat and offer Twenty-Five Millions 
 a chair, as though he were a man of years and 
 weight. Not but that the Bemans and John s 
 fellow-clerks, some of whom were acquaintances 
 in his own world and beginning their life as he 
 was, were all well aware that he had a good chance 
 of getting something handsome in the end. But 
 mere potential wealth is too common in the neigh 
 bourhood of Wall Street to be noticed or much 
 respected. It is not the man who may have it, 
 but the man who has it, who commands respect. 
 Even the only son, the man who is sure to get 
 it if he lives, is treated with a certain indifference. 
 But when time has brought down his heavy hand 
 upon the millionaire, and crushed him into the 
 
THE R ALSTONS. 107 
 
 earth-darkness and his memory into a bit of stone 
 with his name on it, when the last well-greased 
 screw has been run into the polished coffin, when 
 the black horses have waved their black plumes 
 and the last carriage that followed the funeral is 
 being washed down in the coach-house yard then 
 the man who is next stops, and lets future run 
 ahead of him and himself becomes present fact, 
 strong, gorgeous, worshipful. For at his mighty 
 nod the wilderness may become real estate, or the 
 secret places of Nassau Street and Exchange Place 
 may be hideous with the groaning of the bulls he 
 has beared out of the ring and the solid security 
 may to-morrow be wild-cat if he wills it, and the 
 wild-cat emerge in the dawn with a gilt edge and 
 an honest countenance, to be a joyful investment 
 for the widow s mite. 
 
 Meanwhile, Jack was nobody down town. His 
 cousin Hamilton Bright, who was a junior partner 
 in Beman Brothers , was a vastly more important 
 person than he. For he had behind him what 
 Ealston had before him, and a fair amount of 
 capital in the present, besides. It was all very 
 ridiculous, Katharine thought, and depended on 
 the false state of society in which she was obliged 
 to live. 
 
 She thought bitterly of her father. He was a 
 prominent figure in that false state a man of 
 fine principles and opportunist practice she 
 
108 THE R ALSTONS. 
 
 had caught the latter expression from Walter 
 Crowdie, Bright s brother-in-law, the well-known 
 painter, who had painted a portrait of her during 
 the winter, and who, as the husband of a distant 
 cousin, was counted in the Lauderdale tribe. 
 
 Her father, she thought, preached, prayed 
 and then acted far worse than average people who 
 prayed little and sat still to be preached at on Sun 
 days, in order that Providence might have a sort of 
 weekly photograph of their souls, so to say, and 
 because others did the same and it was expected of 
 them. She and her father had never agreed very 
 well, and had come into open conflict about John 
 Ralston; but hitherto she had respected him for 
 his uncompromising, unashamed piety. There had 
 seemed to her to be something masculine and bold 
 about it, and such as it was, she had believed in it. 
 It had been far from being an idol, but it had been 
 a very creditable statue, so to say, and now, on a 
 sudden, the head had been knocked off it, and she 
 saw, or thought she saw, that it was hollow and 
 a sham. She was too young yet to admit the pres 
 ence of good in the same place with evil, and the 
 evil itself had been thrown directly in her path as 
 a stumbling-block for herself, and in the hope that 
 she might fall over it. 
 
 And as though it were not enough to torment 
 her perpetually with questions, there was that 
 other thing which she had just concealed from 
 
THE RALSTONS. 109 
 
 John, because he had been so angry about the first. 
 Her father and mother were apparently determined 
 that she should be married before the summer was 
 out, and were thrusting a match upon her in a way 
 of which she would not have believed them capa 
 ble. Ever since her mother had discovered that 
 she was losing her beauty and that Katharine re 
 ceived three-fourths of all the admiration which had 
 once been hers, the relations of the two had been 
 changed. Mrs. Lauderdale was constantly between 
 two conflicting emotions, which almost amounted 
 to passions, her real affection for Katharine, and 
 her detestable envy of the girl s freshness and 
 youth. She was a good woman, and she despised 
 herself more than any one else could possibly have 
 despised her, for wishing that she might not be 
 daily compared with her, handicapped, as she was, 
 with nearly twenty years more to carry. To marry 
 her daughter was to remove her from home, and 
 perhaps from New York and with her, to do 
 away with the foundation of envy, the cause of 
 the offence, the visible temptation to the sin 
 which was destroying the elder woman s happi 
 ness and undermining her peace of mind. Mrs. 
 Lauderdale, whose sins had hitherto been few and 
 pardonable, felt that if Katharine were once away, 
 she should become again a good woman, and find 
 courage to bear the terrible loss of her once su 
 preme beauty. 
 
110 THE RALSTONS. 
 
 For she was keenly alive to the wickedness of 
 what she felt, though she could not quite under 
 stand it. No man could boast that he had ever 
 had a meaning look or an over-sympathetic press 
 ure of the hand from Mrs. Lauderdale, during the 
 tive and twenty years of her married life, though 
 she had loved society intensely, and enjoyed its 
 amusements with a real innocence of which not 
 every woman in her position would have been 
 capable. But no man who had laid eyes upon her 
 could boast and it would have been a poor boast 
 that he had turned away at the first glance, 
 without looking again and wondering at her love 
 liness, and saying to himself that Mrs. Lauderdale 
 was one of the most beautiful women he had ever 
 seen. 
 
 It hurt her bodily to miss those eyes turned 
 upon her from all sides, as she began to miss them 
 now. It hurt her still more and in spite of secret 
 prayers and solemn resolutions and litanies of self- 
 contempt, she turned pale with quiet, deadly anger 
 against the world when, as she entered a crowded 
 room with Katharine, she felt, as well as saw, that 
 those same eyes sought the pale, severe face of the 
 dark-haired young girl, and overlooked her own 
 fading perfection. The stately rose was drooping, 
 just as the sweet white summer myrtle burst the 
 bud. 
 
 Let her not be judged too harshly, if she longed 
 
THE RALSTONS. Ill 
 
 to be separated from Katharine just at that time. 
 There was no ill-will, nothing like hatred, no touch 
 of cruelty in the simple desire to be spared that 
 daily contrast. It was rather that wish which 
 many have felt, despairing of grace and strength 
 to resist temptation, to have the cause of it 
 removed, that they may find peace. A worse 
 woman would not so long have been satisfied with 
 beauty alone, and with compelling by her mere 
 presence the admiration of a crowd in which no 
 one face was dearer than the rest, nor than it 
 should be. 
 
 She longed with all her heart to see Katharine 
 married, as her husband did from very different 
 reasons. Nor were his arguments bad or unkind 
 from his point of view. He feared lest she should 
 marry Kalston in spite of him, and he honestly 
 believed Ralston to be a worthless young fellow, 
 who could make no woman happy. As for his 
 daughter, he was attached to her, fond of her, 
 perhaps, in his cold way ; though loving with him 
 seemed to be a negative affair and not able to go 
 much further than a cessation of fault-finding, ex 
 cept for his wife, who had overcome him and kept 
 him by her beauty alone. It was not until Katha 
 rine aroused the deep-seated passion of his unsatis 
 fied avarice that he ceased to be kind to her, as he 
 understood kindness. 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 KATHARINE was in her room that afternoon 
 towards five o clock, when a servant knocked at 
 her door, disturbing her as she was composing a 
 letter to her best friend, Hester Crowdie. She 
 looked up with an expression of annoyance as the 
 door opened and the maid entered. 
 
 "Oh what s the matter?" she asked, impa 
 tiently striking the point of her pen upon the edge 
 of the glass inkstand. 
 
 "Mr. Wingfield s downstairs, Miss Katharine," 
 answered the girl. 
 
 "Oh is he? Well " 
 
 Katharine tapped her pen thoughtfully upon the 
 glass again, and a quick contraction of the brow 
 betrayed her displeasure. 
 
 " Shall I tell the gentleman that you ll be down, 
 Miss Katharine ? " enquired the other. 
 
 "No, Annie. Tell him I m out. That is I m 
 not out, am I ? " 
 
 "No, Miss Katharine." 
 
 Katharine let her pen fall, rose and went to the 
 window in hesitation. The bit of red ribbon 
 which had served as a signal to John was pinned 
 112 
 
THE RALSTONS. 113 
 
 to the small curtain stretched over the lower 
 sash. She looked at it thoughtfully, and forgot 
 Mr. Wingfield for a moment. 
 
 " Shall I show the gentleman into the library, 
 Miss Katharine ? " asked Annie, in an insinuating 
 tone. 
 
 " Oh, well ! Yes," said Katharine, turning sud 
 denly. Tell Mr. Wingfield that I ll be down in 
 a few minutes, if he doesn t mind waiting. I sup 
 pose I ve got to," she added, audibly, before Annie 
 was well out of the room. 
 
 She glanced at herself in the looking-glass, but 
 without interest. Then she slipped her unfinished 
 letter into the drawer of the little writing-table by 
 the window, at which she had been sitting, and 
 turned towards the door. But before she left the 
 room she paused, hesitated, and then went back 
 to the table, locking the drawer and withdrawing 
 the key, which she slipped behind the frame of 
 an engraving. She had become unreasonably dis 
 trustful of late. 
 
 Instead of going down to the library, she 
 knocked at the door of her mother s morning 
 room. It chanced that Mrs. Lauderdale was at 
 home that afternoon, which was unusual in fine 
 weather. Mrs. Lauderdale was sitting by the 
 window at the table she used for her miniature 
 painting. She had talent, and had been well 
 taught in her girlhood, and her work was dis- 
 
114 THE R ALSTONS. 
 
 tinctly good. Amateurs more often succeed with 
 miniature than in any other branches of art. It 
 is harder to detect faults when the scale of the 
 whole is very minute. 
 
 Mrs. Lauderdale was bending over a piece of 
 work she had lately begun. All the little things 
 she used were lying about her on the wooden 
 table, the tiny brushes, the saucers for colours, 
 the needle-pointed pencils. She looked up as 
 Katharine entered, and the latter saw all the 
 lines in the still beautiful face accentuated by 
 the earnest attention given to the work. The 
 eyelids were contracted and tired, the lips drawn 
 in, one eyebrow was raised a little higher than the 
 other, .so that there were fine, arched wrinkles in 
 the forehead immediately over it. The faces of 
 American women of a certain age, when the com 
 plexion is fair, favour the formation of a multi 
 tude of very delicate crossing and recrossing lines, 
 not often seen in the features of other nationalities. 
 
 " What is it, child ? " asked Mrs. Lauderdale, 
 quietly, with her soft southern intonation. 
 
 " Mr. Wingfield s there again," answered Kath 
 arine, with unmistakable disgust. 
 
 "Well, my dear, go down and see him," said 
 Mrs. Lauderdale, blandly. "Did you send word 
 that you d receive ? " 
 
 "Yes. I m going to tell him not to come any 
 more." 
 
THE E ALSTONS. 115 
 
 Katharine went behind the table, so that she 
 faced her mother and looked directly into her 
 eyes. For several seconds neither spoke. 
 
 "I hope you won t do anything so rude," said 
 Mrs. Lauderdale at last, without avoiding the gaze 
 that met hers. " We all like Mr. Wingfield very 
 much." 
 
 " I daresay. I m not finding fault with him, nor 
 his looks, nor his manners, nor anything." 
 
 "Well, then I don t see " 
 
 " Oh, yes, you do, mother, forgive my contra 
 dicting you, you know very well that he wants 
 to marry me, and that you want me to marry him. 
 But I don t mean to. So I shall tell him, as nicely 
 as I can, to give up the idea, and to make his visits 
 to you, and not to me." 
 
 " But, Katharine, dear nobody wishes to force 
 you to marry him. We don t live in the Middle 
 Ages, you know." 
 
 "There s a resemblance," answered Katharine, 
 bitterly. 
 
 " Katharine ! How can you say anything so 
 unjust ! " 
 
 "Because it s true, mother. I m not blind, you 
 know, and I m not perfectly insensible. I see, and 
 I can feel. You don t seem to think it s possible to 
 hurt me and I don t think you mean to hurt me, 
 as papa does." 
 
 " You re quite out of your mind, my child ! 
 
116 THE EALSTON8. 
 
 Your father loves you dearly. He wouldn t hurt 
 you for the world. Don t talk such nonsense, 
 Katharine. Go and see Mr. Wingfield, and be 
 decently civil for half an hour he won t stay 
 even as long as that. Besides, you can t tell 
 him not to come any more. He hasn t asked you 
 to marry him. You may think he means to, but 
 you can hardly take it for granted like that." 
 
 " No, but he means to ask me to-day," answered 
 Katharine. "And I haven t encouraged him in 
 the least." 
 
 " Then how do you know ? " 
 
 " Oh one can always tell." 
 
 "It s not exactly true to say that you ve not 
 encouraged him," said Mrs. Lauderdale, thought 
 fully. " He s been here very often of late, and 
 you ve danced the cotillion with him twice, at 
 least. Then there was his coaching party only 
 the other day and you sat beside him. He s 
 always sending you flowers, and books, and things, 
 too. It isn t fair to say that he s had no encour 
 agement. You ll get the reputation of being a 
 flirt if you go on in this way." 
 
 " I d rather be called a flirt than marry Archi 
 bald Wingfield," replied Katharine. 
 
 " At all events you might have some considera 
 tion for him, if you ve none for yourself. Don t 
 be foolish, Katharine dear. Take my advice. Of 
 course, if you could take a fancy to him, quite 
 
THE RALSTONS. 117 
 
 naturally, we should all be very glad. I like him 
 I can t help it. He s so handsome, and has 
 such good manners, and speaks French like a 
 Parisian. I know you may laugh but in these 
 days, when people are abroad half the time and 
 then, after all, my dear, you certainly can t be really 
 sure that he means to ask you to-day. Very likely 
 he won t, just because you think he s going to." 
 
 "Of course, mother, you know that s absurd! 
 As though it wasn t evident besides, those 
 flowers this morning. Didn t you see them?", 
 
 " What about them ? He often sends you 
 flowers." 
 
 "Why, the box was all full of primroses, and 
 just two roses extraordinary ones lying in 
 the middle and tied together with a bit of grass. 
 Imagine doing such a thing! And I know he 
 tied them himself, on account of the knot. He s 
 a yachting man, and doesn t tie knots like the men 
 at the flower shops." 
 
 " Oh, well, my dear if you are going to judge 
 a man by the way he ties knots " 
 
 Mrs. Lauderdale laughed as she broke off in her 
 incomplete sentence. Then her face grew grave 
 all at once. 
 
 " Take my advice, my child marry him," she 
 said, bending over her table once more and taking 
 up a little brush, as though she wished to end the 
 interview. 
 
118 THE R ALSTONS. 
 
 "Certainly not!" answered Katharine, in a tone 
 which discouraged further persuasion. 
 
 Mrs. Lauderdale sighed. 
 
 "Well I don t know what you young girls 
 expect," she said, in a tone of depression. " Mr. 
 Wingfield s young, good-looking, well-educated, 
 rich, and he adores you. Perhaps you don t love 
 him precisely, but you can t help liking him. You 
 act as though you were always expecting a fine, 
 irresistible, mediaeval passion to come and carry 
 you off. It won t, you know. That sort of thing 
 doesn t happen any more. When you want to get 
 married at last, you ll be too old. You have your 
 choice of almost any of them. For a girl who has 
 no money and isn t likely to have much for a long 
 time, I don t know any one who s more surrounded 
 than you are. Of course I want you to marry. I 
 don t believe in waiting till you re twenty-five or 
 thirty." 
 
 " I don t intend to." 
 
 "Well, you will, my dear, unless you make up 
 your mind soon. It s all " 
 
 " Mother," interrupted Katharine, " you know 
 very well that I ve made my choice, and that I 
 mean to stand by it." 
 
 " Oh Jack Kalston, you mean ? " Mrs. Lauder 
 dale affected a rather contemptuous indifference. 
 " That was a foolish affair. Girls always fall in 
 love with their cousins. You ll forget all about 
 
THE RALSTONS. 119 
 
 him, and I m sure he s forgotten all about you. 
 He hardly ever comes to the house now. Besides, 
 you never could have married poor Jack, with his 
 dissipated habits, and no money. Uncle Robert 
 doesn t mean to leave him anything. He d gamble 
 it all away." 
 
 "You called me unjust a moment ago," said 
 Katharine, in an altered voice, and growing pale. 
 
 " Of course you take his part. It s no use to 
 discuss it " 
 
 "It s not discussion to abuse a man who s bravely 
 doing his best. Jack doesn t need any one to take 
 his part. Do you know that he s altogether given 
 up his old life at the club and all that ? He s 
 at Beman Brothers all day long, and when you 
 don t see him in society, he s quietly at home with 
 cousin Katharine." 
 
 "Yes I heard he was doing a little better. 
 But he ll never get rid of the reputation he s given 
 himself. My dear, you don t seem to remember 
 that poor Mr. Wingfield is waiting for you all this 
 time downstairs." 
 
 " It will be the last time, at all events," answered 
 Katharine, in a low voice. "I ll never see him 
 alone again." 
 
 She turned from her mother towards the door. 
 Mrs. Lauderdale followed her with her eyes for a 
 moment, then rose swiftly and overtook her before 
 she could let herself out. 
 
120 THE RALSTONS. 
 
 " Katharine I won t let you send Mr. Wing- 
 field away like that ! " said Mrs. Lauderdale, in a 
 quick, decided tone. 
 
 " Won t let me ? " repeated Katharine, slowly. 
 
 "No certainly not. It s quite out of the ques 
 tion you really mustn t do it ! " Mrs. Lauderdale 
 was becoming agitated. 
 
 " Do you mean that it s out of the question for 
 me to refuse to marry Mr. Wingfield ? " Katharine 
 had her back against the door and her right hand 
 upon the knob of the lock. 
 
 " Oh well no. Of course you have the right 
 to refuse him, if he asks you in so many words " 
 
 " Of course I have ! What are you thinking of?" 
 There was a look of something between indignation 
 and amusement in her face. 
 
 "Yes but there are so many ways, child. 
 Katharine," she continued, almost appealingly, 
 "you can t just say no and tell him to stop 
 coming you ll change your mind you don t 
 know what a nice young fellow he is " 
 
 Katharine s hand dropped from the door-handle, 
 and she folded her arms as she faced her mother. 
 
 " What is all this ? " she asked, deliberately and 
 with emphasis. " You seem to me to be very ex 
 cited. I should almost fancy that you had some 
 thing else in your mind, though I can t understand 
 what it is." 
 
 "No no; certainly not. It s only for your 
 
THE EALSTONS. 121 
 
 sake and his," answered Mrs. Lauderdale, hurriedly. 
 " I ve known it happen so often that a girl refuses 
 a man just because she s in a temper about some 
 thing, and then afterwards, you know she 
 regrets it, when it s too late, and the man has 
 married some one else out of spite." 
 
 "How strangely you talk!" exclaimed Katha 
 rine, gazing at her mother in genuine surprise. 
 
 " My dear, I only don t want you to do anything 
 rash and unkind. You spoke as though you meant 
 to be as hard and cold as a mill-stone as though 
 he d done something outrageous in wanting to marry 
 you." 
 
 "Not at all. I said that I should refuse him and 
 beg him to stop coining to see me. There s noth 
 ing particularly like a mill-stone in that. It s the 
 honest truth in the first place for I won t marry 
 him, and you can t force me to " 
 
 "But nobody thinks of forcing you " 
 
 " I don t know. Perhaps not," answered the 
 young girl, doubtfully. " But it s of no use, for I 
 won t. And as for telling him not to come why, 
 it s rather natural, I think. It just makes the re 
 fusal a little more definite. I don t like that way 
 girls have of refusing a man once a month, and 
 letting him come to see them for a whole season, 
 and then marrying him after all. There s some 
 thing mean about it and I don t think much of 
 the man who lets himself be treated in that way, 
 
122 THE RALSTONS* 
 
 either. If Mr. Wingfield is really all you say he 
 is, he may not be just that kind, and he ll under 
 stand and take his refusal like a gentleman, and 
 not torment me any more. But it s just as well 
 to make sure." 
 
 " Promise me that you ll be kind to him, Katha 
 rine " 
 
 "Kind? Oh, yes I ll be kind enough. I ll 
 be perfectly civil " 
 
 " Well what shall you say to him ? That you 
 like him, and hope to be good friends, but that you 
 don t feel " 
 
 " Dear mother ! " exclaimed Katharine, with per 
 fect simplicity, " I ve refused men before. 1 know 
 how to do it." 
 
 " Yes of course but Mr. Wingfield " 
 
 "You ve got Mr. Wingfield on the brain, 
 mother!" She laughed a little scornfully. "One 
 would think that you were his mother, and were 
 begging me to be kind and nice and marry your 
 son. I don t understand you to-day. Meanwhile, 
 he s waiting." 
 
 " One moment, child ! " exclaimed Mrs. Lauder- 
 dale, laying her hand on Katharine s as it went out 
 towards the knob of the door. " You don t know 
 there are particular well, there are so many 
 reasons why you shouldn t be rough with him. 
 Can t you just say that you re touched by his pro 
 posal and will think it over ? " 
 
THE EALSTONS. 123 
 
 " Certainly not ! " cried Katharine, indignantly. 
 " Why should I keep the poor man hanging on when 
 I don t mean to marry him when I won t I ve 
 said it often enough, I m sure. Why should I ? " 
 
 "It would be so much easier for him, if you 
 would to please me, darling child," continued 
 Mrs. Lauderdale, in an almost imploring way, "just 
 to please me ! I don t often ask you to do anything 
 for me, do I, dear ? And you re not like Charlotte 
 we ve always been such good friends, love. And 
 now I ask you this one thing for myself. It isn t 
 much, I m sure just to say that you ll think it 
 over. Won t you? I know you will there s a 
 dear girl ! " 
 
 Mrs. Lauderdale bent her head affectionately 
 and kissed Katharine on the cheek. The young 
 girl tried to draw back, but finding herself against 
 the door, could only turn her face away as much as 
 possible. She did not understand her mother s 
 manner, and she did not like it. 
 
 "But it s only a moment ago that you were 
 talking about my acting like a flirt ! " she objected, 
 vehemently. " If it isn t flirting to give a man 
 hope when there is none, what is ? " 
 
 "No, dear; that s not flirting; it s only pru 
 dence. You may like him better by and by, and I 
 should be so glad ! Flirting is drawing a man on 
 as you ve done with him, and then throwing him 
 over cruelly and all at once." 
 
124 THE E ALSTONS. 
 
 " I ve not drawn him on, mother ! You shan t 
 say that I ever encouraged him." 
 
 " I don t know. You ve accepted his flowers and 
 his books " 
 
 " What was I to do ? Send them back ? " 
 
 " You might have told him not to send so many, 
 and so often; you needn t have read the books. 
 He d have seen that you didn t care." 
 
 " Oh, this is ridiculous, you know ! " 
 
 " No, it s not, my darling ! And as for the 
 flowers, of course you couldn t exactly send them 
 back, but you weren t obliged to wear them." 
 
 " Nobody wears flowers now, so it wasn t prob 
 able that I should feel obliged to. Eeally, mother, 
 you re losing your head ! " 
 
 Mrs. Lauderdale shifted her position a little, 
 moving towards the side of the door on which the 
 lock was placed, and laying her hand affectionately 
 on Katharine s, as though still to detain her. 
 
 "Yes," she said, "I d forgotten that we don t 
 wear flowers any longer. But that isn t the ques 
 tion, dear. I only ask you not to send him away 
 suddenly, with a l no that can t possibly be taken 
 back. I m dreadfully afraid that you ll hurt the 
 poor fellow, and I can t help feeling that he has 
 reason that you ve given him reason to expect 
 that you ll at least consider the question. Dear 
 child, I only ask you this once. Won t you do it 
 to please me ? We re all so fond of Wingfield " 
 
THE K ALSTONS. 125 
 
 "But why ? why ? If I don t mean to have him, 
 how can I ? I really can t understand. Is there 
 any family reason for being so particular about 
 Mr. Wingfield s feelings ? We ve never been so 
 very intimate with his people." 
 
 "Reasons," repeated Mrs. Lauderdale, absently. 
 "Reasons? Well, yes but it isn t that " She 
 stopped short. 
 
 "Mother!" Katharine looked keenly into her 
 face. "You ve been talking to him yourself! I 
 can see it in your eyes ! " 
 
 " Oh, no ! " answered Mrs. Lauderdale. " Oh, 
 no what makes you think that ? " 
 
 But she looked away, and Katharine saw the 
 blush of confusion rising under the transparent 
 skin in her mother s cheek. 
 
 "Yes you ve given Mr. Wingfield to under 
 stand that I m in love with him," said Katharine, 
 in a low voice. 
 
 "Katharine, how can you!" Mrs. Lauderdale 
 was making a desperate effort to recover herself, 
 but she was a truthful woman, and found it hard 
 to lie. " You ve no right to say such things ! " 
 
 " Yes I see," answered Katharine, not heeding 
 her. " It s all quite clear to me now. You and 
 papa have drawn him on and encouraged him, and 
 now you re afraid that I shall put you in an awk 
 ward position by sending him away. I see it all. 
 That s the reason why you re so excited about it." 
 
126 THE R ALSTONS. 
 
 "Katharine, dear, don t accuse me of such 
 things! All I said was She stopped short. 
 
 "Then you did say something? Of course. I 
 knew that was the truth of it ! " 
 
 "I said nothing," answered Mrs. Lauderdale, 
 going back to a total denial. "Except, perhaps, 
 we have given him to understand that we should 
 be glad if you would marry him." 
 
 " We ? Has papa been talking to him, too ? " 
 asked Katharine, indignantly. 
 
 "Don t be so angry, child. It s quite natural. 
 You don t know how glad your father would be. 
 It s just the sort of match he s always dreamed 
 of for you. And then I think it was very honour 
 able in young Wingfield, when he found that he 
 was in love with you, to speak to your father 
 first." 
 
 "Scrupulously! He might be French! He 
 might have tried to find out first whether I cared 
 for him at all. But I ve no doubt you told him 
 that he had only to ask and I should take him to 
 my heart with pride and pleasure! Oh, mother, 
 mother ! You never used to act like this ! " 
 
 " But, my dear child " 
 
 " Oh no, don t call me your dear child like 
 that it doesn t mean anything now. You re 
 completely changed no, don t keep me ! That 
 poor fellow s waiting all this time. You can t 
 have anything more to say to me, for I know it 
 
THE RALSTONS. 127 
 
 all. A word more which you may have said to 
 him, or a word less what does it matter ? 
 You ve turned on me, and now you re doing 
 your best to marry me, just to get rid of me. 
 As for papa, he leaves me no peace about poor 
 uncle Robert s will. And he calls himself an 
 honest man, when he s trying to force a confidence 
 that doesn t belong to him, out of yes out of 
 sheer love of money. Oh, it s not to be believed ! 
 Let me go, mother ! I won t keep that man wait 
 ing any longer. It isn t decent. There ll be One 
 lie less, at all events !" 
 
 " Katharine, dear ! Stay a minute ! Don t go 
 when you re angry like this ! " 
 
 But Katharine s firm hand was opening the door 
 in spite of her mother s gentle, almost timid, 
 resistance. 
 
 " No I m not angry now," answered the young 
 girl. " It s something different I won t hurt 
 him never fear ! " 
 
 In a moment she had left the room, and her 
 mother heard the quick footfall on the stairs, as 
 she stood listening by the open door. Mrs. Lau- 
 derdale had got herself into terrible trouble, and 
 she knew it. Katharine had, in part, guessed 
 rightly, for if Mrs. Lauderdale had not told young 
 Wingfield in. so many words that her daughter 
 loved him, she had yet allowed him to think so, 
 and had been guilty of a sin of omission in not 
 
128 THE RALSTONS. 
 
 undeceiving him. There is a way of listening 
 which means assent, as there is a way of assenting 
 in words which mean a flat refusal. Alexander 
 Lauderdale had gone farther. He had distinctly 
 told Wingfield, in his wife s presence, that he had 
 no reason to believe that his daughter might not, 
 he saved his scrupulous conscience by the might, 
 might not ultimately accept a proposal which 
 was so agreeable to his own wishes. Mrs. Lauder 
 dale had been shocked, for, as it was spoken, the 
 phrase sounded very untrue, though when precipi 
 tated upon paper and taken to pieces, it is found 
 to be cautious enough. Might, not would 
 and ultimately, not by any means at the iirst 
 attempt. Yet the impression had been conveyed 
 to Wingfield s mind that Katharine was predis 
 posed in his favour, in spite of the reports which 
 had so long been circulated about her engagement 
 to Kalston. Mrs. Lauderdale had, for a moment, 
 almost believed that her husband had told an un 
 truth. But on talking the matter over with him, 
 his dignity of manner, his clear recollection of 
 his own words, and the moderate stress which he 
 laid upon the might and the ultimately, not 
 only reassured her, but persuaded her to say 
 almost the same thing the next time she saw 
 Wingfield. The young fellow always sought her 
 out at a party, and confided to her all he felt 
 for Katharine, and Mrs. Lauderdale sympathized 
 
THE EALSTONS. 129 
 
 with him, as she had once sympathized with Jack 
 Ralston, unconscious that she was doing any 
 thing wrong. He was handsome, frank, and win 
 ning, and she longed to see Katharine married. 
 The reasons were plenty. Many cold and good 
 women enjoy being made the confidantes of young 
 lovers. The atmosphere of the passion is agree 
 able to them, though they may know little of the 
 passion itself. Mrs. Lauderdale had not fully 
 realized the meaning of what she had been doing 
 until Katharine made it plain to her that after 
 noon. And then, although her conscience told 
 her that she was in the wrong, and though she 
 had spoken to the girl entreatingly and gently, 
 she became angry with her as soon as she was 
 left to herself. The tortuousness of a good 
 woman s mind when she has hurt her own con 
 science surpasses by many degrees that of an or 
 dinary criminal s straightforwardly bad ingenuity. 
 Meanwhile, Katharine descended to the library, 
 paused a moment in the entry, and then opened 
 the door. Archibald Wingfield s black eyes met 
 her as she entered the room. He was standing 
 before the empty fireplace, with his hands behind 
 him, warming them perhaps at an imaginary fire, 
 for they were cold. He was very much in love 
 with her, and Katharine s girlish instinct was 
 right, for he had come with the determined pur 
 pose of asking her to be his wife. She had kept 
 
 VOL. I. G 
 
130 THE R ALSTONS. 
 
 him waiting fully twenty minutes, and during that 
 time he had interpreted the delay in at least as 
 taany different ways. As she came in, the colour 
 rose in his brown cheeks and his heart beat fast. 
 
 Archibald Wingfield was said to be the hand 
 somest young man in New York society, which is 
 saying a good deal, notwithstanding those captious 
 persons who write and speak sarcastically about 
 the round-shouldered, in-kneed, flabby-cheeked 
 youth of the present day. Of late years, during 
 the growth of what is now the young generation 
 in society, there has been a very sudden improve 
 ment in the race and type of boys and girls. Any 
 one can see that who does not wilfully close his 
 eyes. 
 
 Wingfield stood fully six feet four inches with 
 out his shoes, was broad-shouldered, deep-chested, 
 and thin-waisted as a young Achilles. His feet 
 were narrow, strong, and straight, his legs those 
 of a runner rather than a walker, his hands broad 
 and brown, with great, determined-looking thumbs, 
 marked sinews, and the high, blue veins of a thor 
 ough-bred animal. The splendid form was topped 
 by a small, energetic head, with slightly aquiline 
 features, the clean-shaven lips that made a bold, 
 curved, bow-like mouth, flat, healthy, brown cheeks, 
 a well-rounded chin, deepened in the middle with 
 the depression which is nature s hall-mark on su 
 perior physical beauty a moderately full fore- 
 
THE RALSTONS. 131 
 
 head, very small ears, jet black, short, smooth hair, 
 and wide, honest black eyes with rough black eye 
 brows. Under the brown colour there was rich 
 bloodj that mantled like scarlet velvet in summer s 
 dusk. 
 
 He spoke in a low, self-possessed, unaffected 
 voice, with an English accent, common enough 
 to-day among young men who have been much 
 abroad during their education. Wingfield had 
 been at Christ Church, had got his degree in the 
 ordinary course, and was hesitating as to his 
 future career between the law, for which he was 
 now reading, and a country life of gentleman farm 
 ing and horse-breeding in western New York, which 
 attracted him. His people were all rich, all good- 
 looking, and all happy. His ideals were chiefly in 
 his own family. When he had returned from Eng 
 land, he had been something of a hero among the 
 young, owing to his having pulled five in the Oxford 
 boat when the latter had won the University race 
 in the previous spring, a very unusual distinction 
 for a foreign-born athlete in England. With his 
 great height, he was still proud of having trained 
 to twelve stone eleven for the race. 
 
 In the matter of outward advantages John Rals- 
 ton s spare figure and lean, Indian face could not 
 compare favourably with such a man as Archibald 
 Wingfield. Nor had Wingfield s reputation borne 
 the strain and the shocks which John s had barely 
 
132 THE RALSTONS. 
 
 survived. The man seemed born to success, hap 
 piness and popularity, as many of his family had 
 been successful, popular and happy before him. 
 He himself believed that all he needed in order 
 to be happier than any of them was to get Katha 
 rine Lauderdale s consent to be his wife. And he 
 loved her so much, and was so nervous in the anti 
 cipation of what was to come, that his hands had 
 turned cold, his healthy heart was bouncing like 
 a football in his big chest, the blood rushed to his 
 brown cheeks, and he almost dropped his silk hat 
 as she entered the room. 
 
 " How do you do, Miss Lauderdale ? " 
 
 He came forward with a gigantic stride, and 
 then suddenly made a short little step, as he found 
 himself already close to her. 
 
 " How do you do ? " she asked, quietly repeating 
 the inane question we have adopted as a form of 
 greeting and recognition. 
 
 She looked up far up, it seemed to her into 
 his brilliant black eyes, and understood how much 
 in earnest he was, before he said anything more. 
 Vaguely, as in a dream, she remembered how, sev 
 eral months earlier, in that very room and almost 
 at that very hour, John Ralston had come to her 
 and she had persuaded him to make her his wife. 
 
 " Thank you so much for the flowers," she said, 
 sitting down in her favourite little arm-chair on one 
 side of the empty fireplace. 
 
THE BALSTONS, 133 
 
 He murmured in a pleased but incoherent fash 
 ion as he pushed a chair into a convenient position 
 and sat down not too near her setting his hat 
 upon the floor beside him. He rested his two 
 elbows on his knees, and his chin on his folded 
 hands, and looked at her with unblushing, boyish 
 admiration. 
 
 "But please don t send me any more flowers, 
 Mr. Wingfield," said Katharine, going straight to 
 the point by an effort of will. 
 
 A puzzled look came into his face instantly. 
 His hands dropped upon his knees, and he sat 
 upright in his chair. 
 
 " Why not ? " he asked, simply. " I mean," he 
 added, fancying he had put the question roughly, 
 "is it rude to ask why not? It gives me so 
 much pleasure if you like them a little, you 
 know." 
 
 It hurt Katharine to see the simplicity of the 
 man, and it made her face burn to think that he 
 had been played upon. 
 
 "Because I d rather not," she answered, very 
 gently. 
 
 "I I don t think I quite understand," said 
 Wingfield, with some hesitation. " I know you 
 often say that I mustn t send them so much but 
 then, you know, one always says that, doesn t one ? 
 It doesn t seem to mean anything except a sort of 
 second thank you " 
 
134 THE RALSTONS. 
 
 " I mean more than that," said Katharine, smil 
 ing faintly, in spite of herself. 
 
 " But so do I ! " exclaimed the young man. " I 
 mean so much more than that I always have, 
 from the very beginning " 
 
 " Please don t ! " cried Katharine, anxiously, for 
 she saw that he meant to speak at once but it 
 was too late. 
 
 " From the very beginning, since almost the first 
 time I ever saw you oh, my my dear Miss Lau- 
 derdale won t you let me say it at last ? " 
 
 " No no please " 
 
 "If you only knew how hard I ve tried not to 
 say it before," he blurted out, as the blood rose 
 warm in his brown cheeks. 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 KATHARINE turned her eyes from him and 
 looked thoughtfully at the hearth-rug. A little 
 silence followed Wingfield s last speech, as he sat 
 gazing at her and hoping for a word of encourage 
 ment. But none came, and by slow degrees the 
 eager expression faded from his face and left it 
 anxious and pained. 
 
 " Miss Lauderdale " he began, in an altered 
 tone, and then stopped suddenly. " Miss Katha 
 rine " he began again, more softly, and still 
 hesitated. 
 
 She looked up, and though her eyes were turned 
 towards him, he fancied they did not see him. She 
 was pale, and her lips were a little drawn together, 
 and there was an incongruity between her attempt 
 to smile and the weary tension of the brows. Every 
 thing in her face told that she pitied him with all 
 her heart. 
 
 "I m very sorry," she said, with real sympathy. 
 " It s been a mistake from the beginning a great 
 mistake." 
 
 " Please don t say that ! " he answered, impul 
 sively for he was impulsive, in spite of his solid, 
 135 
 
136 THE E ALSTONS. 
 
 well-balanced strength. " Please don t answer me 
 yet" 
 
 " But I must ! " she protested, and the look of 
 pity became more set. 
 
 " No, no ! Please don t ! Wait a little and 
 and let me tell you " 
 
 " It can do no good, " she answered, with a sudden 
 rough effort. "You ve been misled I didn t 
 know " 
 
 "What?" he asked, softly. "That that I 
 cared so much and meant always all along 
 from the very first it s always been so, ever since 
 I saw you that first night at the Bretts , after I 
 came back from Europe only it s more so, every 
 time, till I can t keep it back any more, and I ve 
 got to speak, and tell you " 
 
 "Mr. Wingfield " began Katharine, thinking, 
 womanlike, to chill him by the formal enunciation 
 of his name with a protest in the tone, kindly 
 though it was. 
 
 "Yes you think so now," he answered, irrele 
 vantly. "But I don t ask you to answer, I only 
 ask you to listen to me and, indeed, I don t want 
 you to think that it s any one s fault, nor that 
 there s any fault at all, because I know it will all 
 come right, and you ll care for me a little, even if 
 you don t now. I ve spoken too soon, perhaps, and 
 perhaps I ve been rough or rude or something 
 and I don t know how to tell you as I should 
 
THE RALSTONS. 187 
 
 because I ve never told anybody such things 
 don t you believe me, Miss Katharine? But you 
 wouldn t think any the better of me if I knew how 
 to make beautiful speeches and phrases, and that 
 sort of thing, would you?" 
 
 " Oh, no no and you ve not been anything 
 but nice only " 
 
 "I can t help it you re my whole life, and I 
 must tell you so now. Of course, lots of men 
 worship you, and I daresay they know how to say 
 it ever so much better and that they re very 
 much nicer men than I am. But but there isn t 
 one of them, I don t care who he is, who cares 
 who loves you as I do, or would do what I d do for 
 your sake, if I could, or if I had a chance. And 
 even if you don t care for me at all yet, I ll love 
 you so that you will some day and it s not the 
 sort of love that s just flowers and attention and 
 that, you know, like everybody s. It s got hold 
 of me hard, and it won t let go ever! It s 
 changed my whole life. I m not at all as I used 
 to be. You re in everything I do, and see, and 
 think, and hear, as life is and without you 
 there wouldn t be any life in anything. Don t 
 think I don t feel things because I m so big, and I 
 don t look sensitive, and all that or because I 
 can t put it into words that touch you. It s true, 
 for all that, and all I ask is that you should believe 
 me. Won t you believe me a little, Katharine?" 
 
138 THE R ALSTONS. 
 
 The great limbs of the young Achilles quivered, 
 and his strong hands strained upon one another, 
 and there was the clear ring of whole-hearted truth 
 in the deep voice, in spite of the incoherence and 
 poverty of the words. 
 
 " I believe you, " answered Katharine, looking at 
 the rug again. " It isn t that. But I won t let 
 you think for one instant that there s the least 
 possibility of my ever caring for you, or marrying 
 you. It s absolutely impossible." 
 
 "Nothing s impossible !" he answered, impetu 
 ously. "Nothing except that you should never 
 care at all when I d give my life for your little 
 finger, and my soul for your life with all my 
 heart, and be glad to give either " 
 
 " It hurts me very much to hear you talk like 
 this because you ve been misled and deceived 
 my father and mother " 
 
 "How can they know what you think and feel? " 
 asked Wingfield. " I only spoke to them because 
 it seemed right and fair, being so much in earnest, 
 and I couldn t tell but what there might be some 
 one else I had no right to pry into your secrets 
 and watch you and try and find out it wouldn t 
 have seemed nice. So I asked your father, and 
 then Mrs. Lauderdale but I didn t suppose they 
 knew absolutely of course they couldn t answer 
 for you in that way. And I say it again don t 
 make up your mind don t send me off wait 
 
THE R ALSTONS. 139 
 
 only wait! You don t know how love grows out of 
 what seems to be nothing till it s bigger and 
 stronger than the biggest and strongest of us you 
 can t feel it growing any more than you could feel 
 that you were growing yourself when you were 
 small; and you can t remember when it began, any 
 more than you can remember what you thought of 
 when you were a year old. That doesn t make it 
 less real afterwards love s such a little thing at 
 the beginning, and by and by it takes in every 
 thing, so that the whole world is nothing beside it. 
 And if you ll only not make up your mind 
 
 " It s made up for me, long ago in a way you 
 don t dream of. It s absolutely, and wholly, and 
 altogether impossible, and it always will be, no 
 matter what happens. Oh, I can t say more than 
 that, Mr. Wingfield and it wouldn t be true if I 
 said less ! " 
 
 "But it can t be really true!" he protested, 
 bending forward in his low chair. " Of course you 
 think so but how can you possibly tell? I don t 
 mean to say that you re changeable, or capricious, 
 or anything of that kind but people do change, 
 you know. Why I hate to say it but you 
 couldn t say more than that if you were married 
 and I didn t know it! " 
 
 Katharine started, though she was strong and 
 her nerves were good. He had made the reflection 
 very naturally, in answer to the very positive 
 
140 THE KALSTONS. 
 
 words she had spoken. But to her it seemed as 
 though he must know, or at least guess, the truth. 
 She lost her balance for a moment, as she gazed 
 earnestly into his honest black eyes. 
 
 " Mr. Wingfield do you know what you re say 
 ing?" she asked, in a low voice. 
 
 He was afraid he had said something monstrous, 
 and his face fell. 
 
 "I didn t mean to offend you," he stammered, 
 awkwardly. " I m awfully sorry if I said anything 
 I shouldn t " 
 
 Katharine forgot his contrition, and forgot to 
 reassure him in the anxiety caused her by the mere 
 suspicion that he might know the truth. She sat 
 staring at him in silence for several seconds, won 
 dering what he knew. It was more than he could 
 bear. He bent still nearer to her, from the edge 
 of his chair, and his hands moved a little towards 
 her, beseechingly, in as near an approach to an 
 eloquent gesture as such a man could have used. 
 
 " Please don t be angry with me ! " he said. 
 
 " Oh, no ! " she answered, in an odd voice, with 
 a little start. " I was only thinking " 
 
 He did not understand, and he moved backward 
 into his chair suddenly, crossed one knee over the 
 other with an impatient jerk, and looked away 
 from her. 
 
 " What a brute I am ! " he exclaimed, in a barely 
 audible tone. 
 
THE R ALSTONS. 141 
 
 Katharine paid no attention to this self-condem 
 nation. Her eyes rested thoughtfully on his face, 
 and she seemed to be reflecting. She was examin 
 ing her own conscience, trying to find out how far 
 her actions could have brought about the state of 
 things she saw. A woman who loves one man with 
 all her heart has small pity for any other, though 
 she may know that she ought to feel pity and to 
 show it. But she does not therefore lose her sense 
 of justice. 
 
 "Will you tell me one thing, Mr. Wingfield? 
 Will you answer me one question? " she asked, at 
 last. 
 
 He turned to her quickly again, with a look of 
 surprise. She was out of tune with him, so to say, 
 and her words and tone jarred strongly upon his 
 own mood. 
 
 "Certainly," he answered, much more coldly 
 than he had spoken yet. " I ll try and answer any 
 question you ask me." 
 
 "Do you really and truly feel that I ve encour 
 aged you, as though I meant anything? " she asked, 
 slowly. 
 
 It would not have been easy to put a question 
 harder to answer honestly. Wingfield did not 
 like it. A man hates to be put in the position of 
 either telling a falsehood or giving offence, with no 
 alternative but an unmannerly refusal to speak at 
 all. Wingfield felt that, in the first place, he had 
 
142 THE R ALSTONS. 
 
 been badly used in spite of his protestations to the 
 effect that no one was to blame. It had been un 
 pardonable of Mr. and Mrs. Lauderdale to be so 
 mistaken in their own daughter he put it char 
 itably as to expose him to such an uncompromis 
 ing and final refusal as he had received. He went 
 no further in that direction. He did not think of 
 himself as a very desirable son-in-law, and a very 
 good match in fortune, because, like most people, 
 he supposed that when the Lauderdale estate was 
 divided, Katharine would ultimately have her share 
 of it, a fact to which he was indifferent. He did 
 not, therefore, accuse the Lauderdales of having 
 intentionally led him on. But they had acted irre 
 sponsibly. And now he fancied that Katharine 
 was very angry with him for what he had said a 
 few moments earlier, and he thought she was un 
 just, since he had really said nothing very terri 
 ble. So he resented her last question as soon as 
 she had asked it, and he hesitated before replying. 
 Katharine waited patiently a few moments. 
 
 "Do you really think I ve been flirting?" she 
 asked at last, seeing that he did not answer. 
 
 " No ! " he cried, at once. " Oh, no not that ! 
 Never. If you ask me whether you ve ever looked 
 at me, or spoken to me as though you really cared 
 no, you never have. Not once. But then 
 there are other things." 
 
 "What other things? What have I done?" 
 
THE RALSTONS. 143 
 
 Feeling that he had admitted the main point in her 
 favour, she grew a little hard. 
 
 "Well you ve let me come a great deal to see 
 you, and you ve let me send you oh, well! No 
 I m not going to say that sort of thing. I got 
 the impression, somehow that s all." 
 
 "You got the impression, from what I did, that 
 I liked you that I encouraged you? " she asked, 
 anxiously. 
 
 "Yes. I got that impression. Besides, you ve 
 often shown plainly enough that you liked to dance 
 with me " 
 
 " That s true I do. You dance very well. 
 And I do like you as I like several other people. 
 It isn t wrong to like in that way, is it ? It isn t 
 flirting? It isn t as though I said things I didn t 
 mean, is it?" 
 
 "No," answered Wingfield, in an injured tone. 
 "It s not. Still " 
 
 "Still, you think there s been something in my 
 behaviour to make you think I might care? I m 
 very sorry I m very, very sorry," she repeated, 
 her voice changing suddenly with an expression of 
 profound regret. "Will you believe me when I 
 tell you that it s been altogether unconscious ? You 
 can t think if you care for me that I d be so 
 heartless and cruel. You won t, will you? " 
 
 "No I don t want to think it. I misunder 
 stood that s all. Put it all on me." 
 
144 THE RALSTONS. 
 
 He was very young, and he was cruelly hurt. 
 He spoke coldly, lest his words should choke him. 
 
 "No," answered Katharine, speaking almost to 
 herself, "there are other people to blame, whose 
 fault it is." 
 
 "Perhaps." 
 
 A silence followed. It was warm in the room. 
 One of the windows was a little raised, and the 
 bells of the horse-cars jingled cheerfully in the 
 spring air. At last Katharine spoke again. 
 
 " I suppose it doesn t mean much to you when 
 I say I m sorry," she said. "If you knew, it 
 would mean much more. I m very much in ear 
 nest, and I shall never forget this afternoon, for I 
 know I ve hurt you. I think you re a little angry 
 just now. It s natural. You have a right to be. 
 Since you think that I ve made you understand 
 things I didn t mean, I wonder you re not much 
 more angry that you don t say much harder 
 things to me. It wouldn t really be just, because 
 I m very unhappy, whether I m to blame or not. 
 But you re generous. I shall always be grateful 
 to you. You won t bear me any more ill-will than 
 you can help, will you?" 
 
 " Ill-will? I? No ! I m too fond of you and 
 besides, I ve not done hoping yet. I shall always 
 hope, as long as I live." 
 
 "No you mustn t hope anything," answered 
 Katharine, determined not to allow him the shadow 
 
THE EALSTONS. 145 
 
 of any consolation. "It wouldn t be just to me. 
 It would be like thinking that I were capricious. 
 I m not going to talk to you about friendship, 
 and all that, as people do in books. I want you 
 to try and forget me altogether for I believe 
 you you really care for me. So there s no other 
 way when one really cares. Don t come here 
 any more for the present don t try to meet me at 
 parties don t ask me to dance with you. The 
 world s very big, and you needn t see me unless 
 you wish to. By and by it will be different. Per 
 haps you could go abroad for a little while again. 
 I don t know what your plans are, but it would be 
 better if you could. The season will be over it s 
 almost over now, and then you ll go one way and I 
 shall go another, and there s no reason why we 
 should meet. We mustn t. It wouldn t be fair 
 to me, and it wouldn t be fair to you, either. You 
 see it s not as though you were disagreeable. If 
 we meet at all, I couldn t help being very much 
 the same as ever, and you know what I ve made 
 you think of that. You ll promise, won t you?" 
 
 "Not to try and see you sometimes? No, I 
 won t promise that. I shall always hope 
 
 "But there is no hope. There s not the slightest 
 possibility of any hope. If you knew about me, 
 you d understand it." 
 
 " Miss Lauderdale will you think it very rude 
 if I ask one question? I ve I ve put my whole 
 
 VOL. I. 10 
 
146 THE EALSTONS. 
 
 life into this and you re sending me away with 
 out a word. So perhaps I think you might " 
 
 "What is it?" asked Katharine, kindly. 
 
 "Are you engaged to Jack Ralston? I ve heard 
 people say that you were, so often. Would you 
 tell me?" 
 
 Katharine was silent for a moment. She did not 
 know exactly how far it would be true to say that 
 she was engaged to John, seeing that she was mar 
 ried to him. Her marriage, she thought, might be 
 looked upon as a formal betrothal, and there would 
 have been little harm in taking that view of it, 
 under such circumstances. But she had inherited 
 from her father something of his formal respect 
 for the mere letter of truth, and she did not like 
 to say anything which did not conform to it. 
 
 "We re not exactly engaged," she answered, 
 after a short pause. "But we care for each other 
 very much." 
 
 Wingfield s brow cleared a little. He had one 
 of those dispositions which hope in spite of appar 
 ent certainty against them. 
 
 "Then I ll go away for awhile," he said, with 
 sudden resolution and considerable generosity, from 
 his point of view. "If you don t marry him, I ll 
 come back, that s all. I m glad you told me. 
 Thank you." 
 
 It requires considerable self-control to act as 
 Archibald Wingfield did on that occasion. His 
 
THE RALSTONS. 147 
 
 voice did not tremble, and he did not turn pale, 
 because it was not in his nature to experience that 
 sort of physical weakness when he was making an 
 effort. But what he did was not easy. Even 
 Katharine could see that. He sat still a few 
 moments after he had spoken, glanced at her once, 
 as though. to make sure that there was to be no 
 appeal, and then rose suddenly from his seat, and 
 stood towering above her. 
 
 " Good-bye, " he said, holding out his hand, and 
 stooping to bring it within her reach. Now that 
 the effort had been made, his voice trembled a 
 little. 
 
 "Good-bye," answered Katharine, taking his 
 hand, and lifting her head almost without raising 
 her eyes. 
 
 There was something almost like timidity in 
 her tone. She felt how he had been wronged by 
 her father and mother, and in her trouble she was 
 willing to believe that she was really a little to 
 blame herself. She realized, too, that he was act 
 ing very bravely and honestly, and that he was 
 really suffering. It was not a grand, dramatic 
 agony, and eloquence was the least of his gifts, 
 but he was strong, young, and in earnest, and had 
 been made to undergo pain for her sake. She 
 was ashamed of having been the cause of it. 
 
 No other words suggested themselves to her, 
 but he waited one moment, as though expecting 
 
148 THE EALSTONS. 
 
 that she would speak again. Then he silently 
 dropped her hand, and bowing his head a little, 
 went quietly to the door without looking back. 
 She did not follow him with her eyes, but she lis 
 tened for the sound of the latch, and it did not 
 come quite so soon as she expected. He had 
 turned to look at her once more, his hand on the 
 door. 
 
 " God bless you Katharine," he said, in a low 
 voice. 
 
 She looked round at him quickly, and the faint, 
 sorrowful smile came back to her face. Her lips 
 moved, but no words came. He gazed at her one 
 moment, and then took his young grief out into 
 the spring air and the evening sunshine. 
 
 When Katharine was alone, she sighed and 
 gazed at the hearth-rug, bending forward in a 
 thoughtful attitude, her chin supported in her 
 hand. 
 
 " How hard it is ! " she exclaimed to herself. 
 
 It seemed to her that the difficulties of her life 
 grew with every passing day. She had, indeed, 
 cut the knot of one of them within the last half 
 hour, and so far as Archibald Wingfield was con 
 cerned, the hard thing had been done, and he knew 
 the worst. But she, on her part, had much to 
 bear yet. She had seen to-day, for the first time, 
 how her father and mother longed to have her mar 
 ried. Even nowj she found it difficult to suspect 
 
THE E ALSTONS. 149 
 
 either of them of intentional cruelty, or of attempt 
 ing to use anything more than persuasion in push 
 ing her into the match. With her faculty for 
 seeing both sides of a question at once, she was 
 just. It was natural, perhaps, that they should 
 wish her to marry such a man. She had never 
 seen any one like him such a magnificent speci 
 men of youthful manhood. Even her father could 
 not compare with him. And he had much besides 
 his looks to recommend him, much besides his 
 fortune and his position and his popularity. He 
 was brave and honest, and able to love truly, as it 
 seemed. 
 
 He would recover, of course, she said to herself. 
 He was sought after, flattered, and pursued for 
 many reasons. He could find plenty of young girls 
 only too delighted to marry him, and he would cer 
 tainly marry one of them before long. His life 
 was not blighted, and she had not broken his heart, 
 if hearts ever break at all. She remembered what 
 she had once borne, in the belief that John Ralston 
 was disgraced for life on that memorable occasion 
 when all New York had learned that he had been 
 brought home, apparently drunk, after a midnight 
 encounter with a pugilist, who had found occasion 
 to quarrel with him in a horse-car. The belief had 
 lasted a whole night and a whole day, and she did 
 not think that young Wingfield could be suffering 
 anything like that. Moreover, her love for Kalston 
 
150 THE R ALSTONS. 
 
 made her ruthless and almost hard about every 
 other man. Nevertheless, she was sincerely sorry 
 for the man who had just left her the more so, 
 perhaps, because she had little or nothing with 
 which to reproach herself. 
 
 Katharine was not left to her own reflections 
 very long. By a process akin to telepathy, Mrs. 
 Lauderdale was soon aware that Archibald Wing- 
 field had left the house. In the half hour during 
 which his visit had lasted, she had not touched her 
 miniature, though she had looked at it, and turned 
 it to and from the light many times. She was 
 very nervous, and she wished that when he went 
 away he might forthwith take himself off to China, 
 at the very least. She did not wish to meet him 
 that evening, nor the next, to be called to account 
 by him for having exceeded her powers in the 
 impression she had conveyed of Katharine s readi 
 ness to marry him. Yet she remembered that 
 she had acted very much in the same way when 
 Charlotte bad married Benjamin Slayback. It was 
 true that Slayback was a much older man, and 
 well able to take care of himself, and that Char 
 lotte had not at the time been showing any espe 
 cial preference for any of her adorers. She had, in 
 fact, just then dismissed one for the grievous offence 
 of having turned out an unutterable bore after three 
 weeks of almost unbroken conversation, during 
 which she had exhausted his not fertile intellect, 
 
THE RALSTONS. 151 
 
 as furnace heat dries a sponge. Charlotte s heart 
 had been comparatively free, therefore, and she 
 had been indulging in dreams of power and per 
 sonal influence. But Mrs. Lauderdale and her 
 husband had on that occasion used to Mr. Slayback 
 almost the identical words which she had lately 
 repeated to Wingfield; Slayback had come, had 
 proposed, in what manner Charlotte had never 
 revealed, and had been immediately accepted. 
 Surely, there was nothing wrong in assuming that 
 Katharine might possibly behave in the same 
 way, seeing how very much more desirable a suitor 
 Wingfield was than Slayback. Thus argued Mrs. 
 Lauderdale, as she tried to trip up her conscience 
 and step over it. But she was too good by nature 
 to be successful in such a fraud upon goodness, and 
 in the midst of her involuntary self-reproaches, 
 her heart was beating with anxiety to know the 
 result of the interview. 
 
 It meant a great deal to her, for she was sure 
 that if Katharine could be removed from the 
 household, peace must descend upon her own soul 
 once more, and she longed for peace. Somehow, 
 she felt that if she could only enjoy that suprem 
 acy of her wonderful beauty for one month more 
 for one last month, before she grew old she 
 could meet Katharine again, and forgive her all 
 her youth and freshness, and forgive herself for 
 having envied them. As her life was now, she 
 
152 THE RALSTONS. 
 
 could not, try how she would. The pain was upon 
 her hourly, and she could not but resent it, and 
 almost hate the cause of it. 
 
 Though she constantly looked at her miniature, 
 and moved the brushes and little saucers on the 
 table, her hearing was preternaturally sharpened, 
 as it was in reality the barely audible sound of the 
 distant front door which told her that Wingfield 
 was gone. Instinctively she looked towards the 
 door of her own room, hesitated, then rose sud 
 denly, and went out with a quick, nervous step, 
 and a determined look in her face. Without stop 
 ping to consider what she should say, she descended 
 to the library. 
 
 Katharine looked up with an expression of an 
 noyance as her mother entered. 
 
 "He s gone, then?" said Mrs. Lauderdale, 
 interrogatively. 
 
 "Yes. He s just gone," answered Katharine, 
 in a voice that did not promise confidence. 
 
 "What did you tell him, dear?" 
 
 Mrs. Lauderdale sat down beside her daughter. 
 The smile she put on was as unnatural as the 
 endearing tone, and Katharine observed it. She 
 suffered in the artificiality which had developed 
 in her mother of late, so unlike the dignified per 
 sonality which she had been used to love. 
 
 " Really, mother, I can t repeat the conversation. 
 I couldn t if I wished to. What difference does it 
 
THE EALSTONS. 153 
 
 make what I said, since he s gone? I told you 
 what I should say. Well I ve said it." 
 
 "You ve sent him away for good just like 
 that?" 
 
 "I ve told him the plain truth, and he s gone. 
 He won t come back unless he wants to see 
 you," she added, rather bitterly. "I don t think 
 he will, though. You ve not exactly helped him 
 to be happy." 
 
 " Katharine ! " There was an injured protest in 
 the tone. 
 
 "I don t see why you should be surprised," 
 answered the young girl. " Of course he might 
 take it into his head to be angry with you for 
 what you ve done. It wasn t very nice. I m not 
 sure that, in his place, I should ever wish to see 
 you again." 
 
 " My child, what an exaggeration ! You talk as 
 though I had deliberately sought him out and 
 asked him to the house almost asked him to 
 marry you." 
 
 "It comes to that," observed Katharine, coldly. 
 
 "Really, Katharine, you re beyond words!" 
 Mrs. Lauderdale drew back a little, in displeasure, 
 and looked at her severely. 
 
 "I could forgive you," continued the young 
 girl, " if you hadn t known that I love Jack and 
 never shall marry any one else. You know it and 
 you ve always known it. That makes it much 
 
154 THE R ALSTONS. 
 
 worse. You ve made that poor man suffer without 
 the slightest reason. You could just as well have 
 told him that you knew I cared for some one else, 
 and you could have been as nice to him as you 
 pleased. You ve hurt him, and you ve driven me 
 to hurt him, by no fault of mine, just to undo the 
 mischief you ve done. Of course, it s papa who s 
 really done it all, but you needn t have let him 
 twist you round his little finger like a wisp of 
 straw." 
 
 " Oh, Katharine ! Anything more unjust ! " 
 
 "I m not unjust, mother. But I m too old to 
 think everything you do is perfect, merely because 
 it s you. When I see a man like Archie Wingfield 
 sitting there and straining his hands to keep him 
 self quiet, and choking with the sound of his own 
 words, I know he s suffering and when I know 
 that he s suffering uselessly, and that it s all your 
 fault and papa s, I judge you that s all. I m a 
 grown woman. I have a right to judge." 
 
 The door opened and Alexander Junior appeared 
 upon the threshold, just returned from his office. 
 
 "I heard your voice, so I came in," he said, with 
 an electric smile which was meant to be concilia 
 tory. " Oh ! " he exclaimed, in altered tones, as he 
 saw the faces of the two women, " has anything 
 happened? " 
 
 For a moment there was silence. Mrs. Lauder- 
 dale looked at the empty fireplace, avoiding the 
 
TUE BALSTONS. 155 
 
 eyes of both her husband and her daughter. But 
 Katharine leaned back in her seat and faced her 
 father. Her voice was almost as cold and steely 
 as his could be when she answered him at last. 
 
 "Mr. Wingfield has just asked me to marry 
 him," she said. "And I have refused him 
 unconditionally. " 
 
 "You ve done an exceedingly foolish thing, 
 then," answered Alexander Junior. "And you ll 
 be very sorry for it before long." 
 
 He came nearer and stood by the fireplace, laying 
 one authoritative hand upon the mantelpiece, and 
 shaking the forefinger of the other in a warning 
 manner. 
 
 "I m the best judge of that," answered Katha 
 rine, undaunted and unimpressed by his parental 
 tone. 
 
 "You re not," answered Mr. Lauderdale. 
 "You ve acquired a habit of contradicting me 
 lately. It seems to be a part of your plan for 
 being as utterly undutiful and disobedient as you 
 can. I warn you that I won t submit to it any 
 longer." 
 
 "It s of no use to threaten me, papa," answered 
 Katharine, controlling herself as well as she could. 
 "And it doesn t do any good to call me undutiful 
 and disobedient so often. It doesn t make it true." 
 
 " Katharine ! " cried her mother, in a tone of 
 distress which was not artificial. 
 
156 THE EALSTONS. 
 
 "I know what I m saying, mother " 
 
 " Then you should be sincerely ashamed of your 
 self, Katharine," said Alexander Junior. "As 
 sincerely as I m ashamed that a daughter of mine 
 should use such language." 
 
 Katharine rose slowly from her chair and stood 
 up before him, while her mother remained seated. 
 
 "Neither of you have any right to say that 
 you re ashamed of anything I ve done," she said. 
 "As for my language, it s mild enough for what 
 you ve done. I ve been ashamed of you both 
 to-day here, in this room, half an hour ago. 
 You ve told an honest man who s foolishly in love 
 with me that I cared for him, and would have him 
 if he would ask me, when you know that I will 
 never marry any one but Jack E/alston. It seems 
 to me that I ve had good reason to be ashamed of 
 you. It was hard to look him in the face, and tell 
 him that my father and mother had misled "and 
 deceived him to make him own that he had it 
 all from you, and that I d not given him the 
 shadow of a reason for thinking that I cared for 
 him that he had it all from you. Oh, it was so 
 plain! Not that you can deny it and you tell 
 me that you re ashamed of me! If I didn t love 
 Jack, do you know what I d have done? I d 
 have married Archie Wingfield to save you your 
 respect for yourself, and a little of his for you! " 
 
 " I refuse to listen any longer to such insane 
 
THE RALSTONS. 157 
 
 nonsense," said Alexander Junior, whose slow 
 wrath was rising by degrees. 
 
 "You shall listen to me," answered Katharine. 
 " I m fighting with you for my life and happiness, 
 and you ve got to face me like an honest man 
 though you are my father ! " 
 
CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 " KATHARINE ! This is too much ! " cried Alex 
 ander Junior, his anger rising in his eyes. 
 
 The man s heavy hand fell emphatically upon 
 the mantelpiece, making the old-fashioned gilt 
 clock and the Chinese vases tremble and rattle. 
 Mrs. Lauderdale was not a nervous woman, but she 
 rose from her seat and stood beside her husband, 
 not exactly as though she meant to take his side, 
 and yet not exactly as a peace-maker. She felt 
 herself accused as much as he did by the pale, 
 strong girl who stood before them, one hand hang 
 ing by her side, the other pulling nervously at the 
 little silver pin at her collar as though she felt 
 that it was choking her. Of the three, at that 
 moment, Mrs. Lauderdale was by far the most 
 self-possessed. 
 
 "It s true," answered Katharine. "Every word 
 of it s true!" 
 
 As she spoke she caught her breath, and was 
 obliged to stop, white with anger. 
 
 "Katharine my child! Don t!" cried Mrs. 
 Lauderdale, fearing she was going to faint. 
 
 "I think you d better go, my dear," said Alex- 
 168 
 
THE EALSTONS. 159 
 
 ander to his wife. "She s beside herself. I ll 
 bring her to her senses." 
 
 The passionate blood rose in the girl s face and 
 the words came again. 
 
 " No, mother stay here ! " she said. " You 
 have no right to go away. Yes I say that for 
 months you ve been doing your best, both of you, 
 to destroy my happiness and you ll destroy my 
 life with it, if I stay with you longer. You ve 
 tried to separate me from the man I love, and 
 you ve been trying every day and every hour to 
 make me marry another man pushing him on, 
 encouraging him, telling him that I would accept 
 him for all I know, telling him that I loved 
 him. I ve not forgotten the things you ve done 
 I ve not forgotten the day when you, mother, you 
 who had stood by us so long, suddenly turned 
 without reason and told Jack to go away. Here, 
 in this very room, last winter and you, papa 
 I ve only to make you remember how you took that 
 letter when it was brought, and kept it all day, and 
 repeated all the lies that people told about Jack 
 and mother read me the things in the papers 
 and you made me believe that he had written to 
 me when he was drunk. It was all a lie, a miser 
 able, infamous lie ! And you liked it, and repeated 
 it, and turned it over and embroidered it and beau 
 tified it to make it hurt me more. It did hurt 
 me it almost killed me but for Jack s sake, I 
 wish to God it had!" 
 
100 THE R ALSTONS. 
 
 fl 
 
 " Katharine, this is blasphemy ! " exclaimed her 
 father, his cold eyes glittering with rage but he 
 was not fluent, he could find no words to dam the 
 stream of hers. 
 
 " Blasphemy ! " she cried, indignantly. " Is it 
 blasphemy to pray unless your God is my 
 Devil?" 
 
 Beside himself with passion, her father made a 
 step forward, and with a quick movement covered 
 her mouth with one hand and grasped her arm with 
 the other. But he miscalculated her quickness as 
 against his strength. With a turn of the hand 
 and wrist she was free and sprang backwards a 
 step. 
 
 "It s like you to lay your hands on a woman, 
 after trying to sell her ! " she cried, her lips turn 
 ing a dull grey, her eyes colder and brighter than 
 his own. 
 
 Being roused, they were terribly well matched. 
 Mrs. Lauderdale threw herself between them. To 
 do her justice, she faced her husband, with one hand 
 stretched out to warn him back. 
 
 "No, no, mother! don t come between us. I m 
 not afraid I only got my mouth free to tell him 
 that he s a coward to lay his hands on me. But 
 that was his only answer, because the things I say 
 are true every one of them, and more, too. 
 That s your one idea both of you to marry me 
 off and get me out of the house, because you can t 
 
THE EALSTONS. 161 
 
 look me in the face after the things you ve done 
 after coming between me and Jack, as you ve 
 tried to do, and would have done, if we d loved 
 each other less after trying to force me upon the 
 first man who took a fancy to my face after tor 
 menting me to betray uncle Robert s confidence 
 and it s all been for money, and for nothing else. 
 Money, money, money ! " 
 
 "My child, you re mad! " cried Mrs. Lauderdale. 
 "What has money to do with it? What are you 
 talking about? Do you know that you re making 
 the most insane accusations?" 
 
 "Let her talk," said Alexander, in a low, sullen 
 voice. "She doesn t know what she s saying." 
 
 Ashamed of his outbreak, perhaps, or in sheer 
 helplessness against Katharine s desperate speech, 
 he had fallen back again and stood leaning against 
 the mantelpiece, his arms folded over his broad 
 chest, his hands twitching at his sleeve, his pale 
 mouth set like a steel trap, a dull, dangerous light 
 in his eyes. 
 
 " You re mistaken, " continued Katharine. " It s 
 all for money. Money s at the root of every action 
 of your life. You didn t want me to marry Jack 
 because he s poor, and because uncle Robert might 
 not leave him anything. Money ! You thought at 
 first you could make me take Hamilton Bright, 
 because he s cared for me so long and because 
 he s beginning to be rich and is a partner in 
 
 VOL. I. 11 
 
162 THE RALSTONS. 
 
 
 
 Bemans money, again! Archie Wingfield 
 how many millions will he have? Money of 
 course. Uncle Robert s will what shall you get 
 by it? Money and you d tear the figures out of 
 my head with red hot pincers if you could just 
 to know how much you ll have when the poor 
 man s dead. Ever since we were children, Char 
 lotte and I, you ve preached economy and saving 
 and poverty you ve let my mother your wife 
 and you re the nephew of the great Robert 
 Lauderdale you ve let her work her hands and 
 her eyes till they ached to make a little money 
 herself not for herself only, but for us. No 
 don t smile contemptuously like that. She s done 
 it all my life, and she s doing it still. Your chil 
 dren could scarcely have been decently dressed, if 
 she hadn t earned a few hundred dollars for them. 
 There s hardly a thing I have on that she s not 
 paid for out of her earnings. We couldn t have 
 gone to our first ball, Charlotte or I, but for her. 
 And still, day after day, you say you re poor. Do 
 you think I don t see all the little meannesses? 
 Do you think I can t smell the vile cigars you 
 make grandpapa smoke, to save those few cents? 
 Is there a house among all our friends, poor as 
 some of them are, where there isn t a fire in the 
 library, at least in the evening, even when there s 
 nobody asked to dinner? Economy, saving, mean 
 ness of all sorts even the poor housemaid who 
 
THE RALSTONS. 163 
 
 broke her arm on the kitchen stairs ! You sent to 
 the hospital the day before she was to leave, half- 
 cured and helpless, and made her sign the declara 
 tion that she made no further claim upon you. 
 She came here when you were down town. Mother 
 gave her five dollars out of her earnings but I 
 heard her story. Oh, they re endless, your ways 
 of saving that filthy, miserable money of yours ! " 
 
 "Are you really mad, Katharine?" asked her 
 father, in a dull, monotonous voice. 
 
 "Child! You know we re comparatively poor," 
 said Mrs. Lauderdale. " Come dear child " 
 
 She laid her hand on the girl s arm as though 
 she would lead her away and end the violent scene, 
 but Katharine stood firm. 
 
 " Poor ! " she cried, indignantly. " Compara 
 tively poor ! Yes compared with uncle Robert 
 or Mr. Beman, perhaps. But papa is not poor, 
 though he has told you so for years, though he lets 
 you work for money you ! Though he borrows 
 five dollars of you I ve seen it again and again 
 and never returns it borrows the poor little 
 sums you earn by hard work ! Oh, it s not to be 
 believed! Borrows without ever meaning to give 
 it back like an honest man oh, he wouldn t 
 dare to do that with his dearest friend. But you ! 
 You can t help yourself ;> 
 
 " My dear, he keeps an account " 
 
 " I know, I know ! He pretends that he keeps 
 
164 THE E ALSTONS. 
 
 the money for you and allows you interest! I ve 
 heard him say so. Interest on five dollars. And 
 have you ever had it? Sordid me:m there s 
 no word! And he keeps telling you that he s poor, 
 and that we must pinch and scrape or we shall go 
 beyond our income when he has over a million 
 of dollars put away " 
 
 "Be silent! " cried Alexander Junior, with sud 
 den vehemence, his cheeks as grey as ashes. 
 
 "I won t be silent! I ll say every word I have 
 to say. Look me in the face. Deny, if you dare, 
 before God, that what I say is true that you 
 have that money put away somewhere. Is it true, 
 or not, as you hope to be saved? " 
 
 Mrs. Lauderdale came between them again, lay 
 ing her hands on Katharine s arm and trying to 
 make her leave the room. 
 
 " Take- care, take care ! " she cried, anxiously, 
 and hardly knowing what she said. "Alexander 
 Katharine! Don t oh, please don t quarrel 
 like this my child, my child! You re beside 
 yourself ! " 
 
 "I m not it s true as life and death!" an 
 swered the girl, resisting the pressure. " Ask him 
 if it s not! Make him swear that it s not true 
 make him say, before heaven, that he has less than 
 a million, while he s selling his daughters and 
 forcing his wife to work. Wait don t speak ^ 
 listen to what he says! If he can t say it, his 
 
THE EALSTONS. 165 
 
 whole life has been a lie, and he knows it wait 
 hush!" 
 
 Katharine held her mother fast by the hands, 
 and seemed to hold her own breath, her angry eyes 
 fixed on her father s face. Mrs. Lauderdale turned 
 her head instinctively, and looked at him. He 
 met their glances for a few seconds, and his dry, 
 pale lips parted as though he were about to speak, 
 but no sound came. In the waning light his eyes 
 had a glassy look. It only lasted a moment, and 
 then his mouth was twisted with an expression 
 meant for a smile. 
 
 "Take her away she s mad," he said, and his 
 voice seemed to be suddenly weak. 
 
 Katharine laughed aloud, bitterly and cruelly, in 
 her triumph. 
 
 " If I were mad, as you say I am, " she said, a 
 moment later, "that would not make it impossible 
 for you to tell the truth. Yes, mother I m go 
 ing now. I ve said it all and you know it s 
 true." 
 
 She dropped her mother s hands, turned con 
 temptuously away, and left the room. Neither 
 her father nor her mother moved as she went, 
 though they followed her with their eyes until the 
 door closed behind her with a soft click. 
 
 Alexander Lauderdale was torn by the strongest 
 emotions of which he was capable anger and 
 avarice. But avarice was the stronger. So long as 
 
166 THE R ALSTONS. 
 
 Katharine had accused him of unkindness, of dis 
 honesty in his treatment of Wingfield, of meanness 
 in his household, his wrath, though powerless, had 
 kept the upper hand. But at the sudden and 
 unexpected accusation of possessing a fortune in 
 secret, he had been cowed. It was characteristic 
 of him that even in that moment he would not 
 swear falsely, and he saw the folly of denying the 
 statement if he could not support his denial with 
 something like an oath. When passions have 
 reached such a crisis, they are not satisfied with 
 less than they demand. On the whole, it had been 
 wiser to say nothing. He could admit afterwards 
 that he had saved something he would assure his 
 wife that Katharine s statement had been exag 
 gerated little by little, calm would be restored. 
 And there would not necessarily be any increase of 
 expenditure. At that crucial moment two thoughts 
 had been uppermost in his mind. The miser s 
 dismay at the discovery of his wealth, and the 
 miser s visions of ruinous expense in the imme 
 diate future. In a flash, he had seen himself 
 forced to spend fifty or sixty thousand a year, 
 instead of ten or twelve, and all possible forms of 
 reckless extravagance had appeared to him in a 
 horror of kaleidoscopic confusion. It was torture 
 to think of it to realize that his secret was out. 
 
 The strong man stood, half-stunned, leaning 
 against the mantelpiece, pulling nervously at the 
 
THE EALSTONS. 167 
 
 bit of embroidered velvet which covered it, his face 
 drawn in an expression of suffering and fear. He 
 dreaded the question which he knew that his wife 
 would ask him, but he had not even the power to 
 speak at that moment, in order to ward it off. 
 
 Mrs. Lauderdale hesitated a moment, wondering 
 whether it might not be better to follow Katha 
 rine to her room and try to calm her and make 
 her more reasonable. Never, in all the girl s life, 
 had her mother seen her so passionately angry nor 
 heard her use the tone of defying strength which 
 had rung in her voice as she accused her father. 
 Mrs. Lauderdale herself was frightened, and almost 
 feared for Katharine s reason. But there had, 
 nevertheless, been so much assurance of truth in 
 what she had said, that her mother was half con 
 vinced. Before she left the room to follow her 
 daughter, she turned to her husband, and the 
 inevitable question came. It could not be other 
 wise. The girl s accusation had vividly brought 
 before Mrs. Lauderdale the labour she had ex 
 pended in all the past years, and of which the result 
 had been to give her children what it was their 
 father s duty to give them if he had anything to 
 give. Many a time, too, she herself had chafed 
 under the necessity of lending him small sums for 
 an emergency, accepting a promise of payment 
 which was never fulfilled, and forced to be satis 
 fied with the assurance that he kept an account of 
 
168 THE EALSTONS. 
 
 what he owed her. He seemed never to have 
 money about him. He always said that he was 
 afraid of losing it he, the most careful of men! 
 The cumulative force of those many small mean 
 nesses extending over a quarter of a century of 
 married life was tremendous when they were 
 brought up in a body and made to face the positive 
 statement that he was in reality a rich man. A 
 good wife she had been to Alexander Junior in 
 every sense of the word, but of that early trusting 
 love which hides more sins than the multitude of 
 them which charity can cover, there was not left 
 even the warmth where the spark had glowed. 
 There was no a priori judgment of one heart 
 against all possible offence and sordid meanness 
 in the other. Katharine s blow had been heavy 
 and direct, and had gone straight to its mark. 
 Her mother loved her in spite of her terrible 
 envy of her. It would need the man s solemn oath 
 to outweigh the girl s plain statement. The inevi 
 table question came, as Alexander knew that it 
 must. He moved nervously as she began to speak. 
 
 "Alexander, dear," she said, speaking gently 
 from force of habit, " it would be very easy for you 
 to deny this." 
 
 He had thought of what he should say. 
 
 "My dear, I think that after spending half a 
 lifetime together, during which you ve had occa 
 sion to find out that I m truthful, it s scarcely 
 
THE R ALSTONS. 169 
 
 necessary to pay any attention to an angry child s 
 ravings." 
 
 But Mrs. Lauderdale was not satisfied with this 
 poor excuse. Katharine had roused her own re 
 sentment, and she remembered many things now, 
 which Katharine herself did not know little 
 things the dry sticks that will make a smoulder 
 ing fire blaze. 
 
 "It s precisely because you re so truthful that 
 it seems strange when you refuse to answer a 
 simple question, Alexander," observed Mrs. Lau 
 derdale, quietly enough. 
 
 She did not wish to take up Katharine s quarrel, 
 nor to give the present conversation the air of an 
 argument. She therefore did not stay beside him, 
 as though they were discussing any point, but 
 moved about the room, pretending to arrange small 
 objects and books and generally to set the room in 
 order, which was a work of supererogation, to keep 
 herself in countenance while she renewed the 
 attack. 
 
 "You admit that I m truthful," said Alexander, 
 coldly. " I m glad you do. That settles the ques 
 tion at once. If I ve been a rich man all these 
 years, then I ve not been telling the truth, nor 
 acting it, either. It s all too absurd for discussion. 
 I confess that at first I was angry. The girl spoke 
 to me in the most outrageous manner. I don t 
 remember that any one has ever said anything of 
 
170 THE RALSTONS. 
 
 the kind to me in my life. It s wrong to be 
 angry, and I repent of it, but I think I anay be 
 pardoned considering what she said. It s been 
 a disgraceful scene. I m sincerely thankful that 
 none of the servants were present. " 
 
 " Oh it was natural that you should lose your 
 temper, of course ! " 
 
 "Human, at all events," said Alexander, with 
 dignity; "I don t think I ve ever made any pre 
 tence of possessing superior virtues. A man may 
 justifiably lose his temper sometimes. Be angry 
 and sin not. I did not intend to be violent." 
 
 No of course not ! Still " 
 
 "Yes. I took her by the arm and deliberately 
 laid my hand upon her mouth. That was not 
 violence. Few men of sincere convictions would 
 have done less, considering the blasphemous words 
 she was uttering. It s the duty of parents to 
 hinder their children from committing such sins, 
 when they can. In the case of a man, I should 
 have used my strength to enforce silence. As it 
 was, I merely covered her mouth with my hand. I 
 recollect that you came between us, as though you 
 thought I meant to be violent. Nothing could 
 have been further from my thoughts, I assure you." 
 
 "I trust so," said Mrs. Lauderdale, taking a 
 package of envelopes out of the little stationery 
 rack on the writing-table, turning it round and 
 putting it back again. 
 
THE R ALSTONS. 171 
 
 "With regard to Archibald Wingfield," contin 
 ued Alexander, getting further and further from 
 the question of the money, "you know as well as 
 I do, that we have treated him precisely as we 
 treated Slayback, when he wished to marry Char 
 lotte. As for me, I told him that I saw no reason 
 why Katharine might not might not ultimately, 
 mind you accept an offer which was so agreeable 
 to me personally. I fail to see anything which 
 can be criticised in that answer. I should by no 
 means like to say positively, even now, that Kath 
 arine might not ultimately accept him. That 
 would amount to denying the existence of an 
 evident possibility, which is absurd. She may, so 
 far as that goes. I don t say she will. I say, 
 she may. Young women frequently change their 
 minds, and sometimes for the better. Let us hope 
 for the best. Of course I don t know every word 
 of what you said to him, though you did your best 
 on each occasion to tell me all about it. I 
 gathered that you gave him very much the same 
 sort of negative encouragement that I did. Prac 
 tically, we told him to try his luck." 
 
 Mrs. Lauderdale had rarely heard her husband 
 speak so long consecutively. He was not fluent, 
 as a rule, and in the recent quarrel with Katharine 
 he had been almost speechless. But now he was 
 talking for his life, as it were. If he lost the 
 position of domination which he had held so long 
 
172 THE RALSTON3. 
 
 with his wife, his existence must be shaken to its 
 foundation. He barely gave her a chance to intro 
 duce a word. 
 
 "I m not so positively sure, myself," she said. 
 "Of course I didn t mean to convey any wrong 
 impression to young Wingfield, but " 
 
 "But you may perhaps have pardonably exceeded 
 your powers," interrupted Alexander, anxious that 
 she should not commit herself. " Very pardonable, 
 my dear, very pardonable. Such things happen 
 constantly, even in business. Of course the party 
 who goes beyond his instructions bears the re 
 sponsibility in case anything goes wrong. Just 
 so in the present case. If there is any responsi 
 bility, which may be doubted, it s yours and not 
 mine, for I m positively certain of the words I 
 spoke of the very words. I said might not 
 ultimately accept I recollect very distinctly, 
 and you know how accurate my memory is." 
 
 "Yes I know," answered Mrs. Lauderdale, in 
 a tone which might have been thought to give the 
 words a doubtful meaning. 
 
 " Of course you do, my dear. If Wingfield got 
 a wrong impression, if he did, mind you, he 
 must have got it from you. I think you might 
 perhaps explain that to Katharine when she s a 
 little calmer. I can t allow her to think that her 
 father, whom she s bound to respect, should have 
 done such a thing. A man s actions carry much 
 
THE RALSTONS. 173 
 
 more weight than a woman s. I couldn t allow 
 her to think that I d taken her feelings for 
 granted. There s no immediate hurry, Emma, but 
 I should be glad if you would explain it to her. 
 It will help to restore peace. As for her reasons 
 for rejecting Wingfield," he continued, without 
 pausing for his wife s answer, "I regret them very 
 much. It s a miserable thing to see such a girl 
 wasting her chances of happiness on such a repro 
 bate as Jack Ralston, and I do her the honour to 
 say that such an affection can t possibly be lasting. 
 As for her marrying him, of course that s alto 
 gether outside the question. I m sure she clings 
 to the attachment far more out of a desire to oppose 
 my wishes in everything, than because she really 
 cares for that vagabond. I ve not the slightest 
 fear that she ll ever marry him. I m sure you 
 don t think so, either." 
 
 "Unless she runs away with him," suggested 
 Mrs. Lauderdale. 
 
 She was annoyed by the skill with which he, who 
 was ordinarily less keen, had passed from the main 
 subject in question to a side issue. She did not 
 know how a great passion like avarice can sharpen 
 wits under danger of discovery. 
 
 " Oh, well ! " exclaimed Alexander, with much 
 dignity. " If she runs away with the fellow, that 
 puts her altogether beyond the pale of our love, 
 and we shall have done with her. We won t dis- 
 
174 THE R ALSTONS. 
 
 cuss that. The objection to this pretence of loving 
 ilalston for I m convinced that it s nothing else 
 is that it keeps her from marrying a man 
 worthy of her, like Archibald Wingtield. Of 
 course there are people far richer than the AVing- 
 lields uncle Robert, for instance, besides the 
 others who are so much richer even than he, and 
 count their millions by the hundred; but taking him 
 all in all, there s not a better match in society 
 for looks, and education, and position, and health, 
 too, which I regard as a very important considera 
 tion. You must agree with me, my dear AV ing- 
 field would have made an excellent husband." 
 
 " Of course 1 agree with you, Alexander. AVhat 
 an unnecessary question ! " 
 
 "My dear, when the very foundations of one s 
 life are being torn up and thrown out of the win 
 dow by a silly girl, it becomes necessary to ask all 
 the simplest questions over again." 
 
 This extraordinary simile produced no very con 
 vincing effect on Mrs. Lauderdale, who had listened 
 to phrase after phrase of his long tirades with 
 exemplary outward resignation, for the sake of 
 allowing peace to be restored by the overflow of 
 self-conscious virtue, but with little inward pa 
 tience. 
 
 " I think the best thing to do is to let the whole 
 matter drop, and hope that Katharine will change 
 her mind," she said, sensibly. 
 
THE EALSTONS. 175 
 
 "Yes. Let s hope that, at all events. Emma, 
 we can t have any more scenes like this. If 
 Katharine breaks out in this way again, I shall 
 refuse to see her. You may, if you please. But 
 I will not. When I m at home she shall stay in 
 her room." 
 
 "But that s impossible!" exclaimed Mrs. Lau- 
 derdale, in astonishment. "You wouldn t treat 
 a child like that!" 
 
 "I would," answered Alexander, and his lips 1 
 snapped on the words. "And I will, if there s any 
 repetition of such conduct. That s a matter for 
 me to judge, Emma, and I don t wish you to 
 interfere. She has accused her own father of 
 being a liar, of selling her, of being a miser, and of 
 stealing his wife s money. You can t deny that, 
 and I presume you ve no intention of supporting 
 the accusations. Yes, even as it is, I prefer that 
 Katharine should not appear this evening. When 
 she s begged my pardon for what she s done, I ll 
 consent to see her. Not before. Pray tell her 
 that this is my decision, Emma." 
 
 " But, Alexander, I never heard of such a thing ! 
 Of course she lost her temper and was awfully 
 rude to you, and I m very much displeased with 
 her. But really you can t treat a grown woman 
 like a baby. It s too absurd." 
 
 "It s not absurd, my dear. You must excuse 
 me if I adopt Katharine s method of contradiction. 
 
176 THE R ALSTONS. 
 
 The only way to treat her is to treat her as a child. 
 If we consider her to be a grown woman, we must 
 either resent what she s done as though she 
 were any other woman or else take it for granted 
 that she is temporarily insane, and drive her out 
 to Bloomingdale Asylum, to-morrow morning to be 
 cured. But so long as we regard the whole thing 
 as childish, it s sufficient to tell her that she s not 
 to come to table until she s begged my pardon. 
 Don t you see?" 
 
 Mrs. Lauderdale was aware that he was talking 
 nonsense, approximately speaking, and she saw 
 that he meant to do a very unwise thing. But as 
 he put it, the only good argument against his 
 course would have been to prove that Katharine 
 was right and that he was wrong, which, with 
 some allowance for undue and angry exaggeration, 
 would be equivalent to proving him a miser and 
 anything but a ^straightforward person. Mrs. 
 Lauderdale s trouble was considerable at that 
 moment. 
 
 " You may be right in theory, " she said, almost 
 despairingly, " but in practice 1 think you re quite 
 wrong. One doesn t do that sort of thing nowa 
 days. If we ve all got to fight like mad people, 
 let s keep it to ourselves " 
 
 "That s precisely what I m thinking of," inter 
 rupted Alexander, whose resolution was growing 
 stronger every moment. 
 
THE RALSTONS. 177 
 
 " Yes but, my dear ! The servants and your 
 father, too ! I don t think he s very discreet " 
 
 "Yes, exactly, my dear Emma. That s just 
 how I look at it. I think I know Katharine quite 
 as well as you do, and I m sure that if she has an 
 opportunity of attacking me, she will, before the 
 servants and before my father. I should much 
 rather let people know that I had told Katharine 
 to stay in her room until she could treat me with 
 proper respect, than have such a conversation as 
 has just taken place here repeated all over New 
 York. I m sure you see that, don t you? " 
 
 "Yes," answered Mrs. Lauderdale, suddenly 
 comprehending his point of view. "But it seems 
 to me that if there s to be such an open break, it 
 would be better to let Katharine go down to Wash 
 ington for a few days and stay with Charlotte." 
 
 " Certainly not ! " exclaimed Alexander. " You 
 know what Charlotte is, and what trouble we have 
 had with her. The two girls would make common 
 cause. Not at all. Not at all, Emma. I shall 
 be glad if you will go at once and tell Katharine 
 what I ve said that I don t wish to see her until 
 she has made amends for her outrageous conduct." 
 
 "But, Alexander," protested Mrs. Lauderdale, 
 " it will be so inconvenient sending her dinner 
 upstairs ! " 
 
 "I daresay it won t be for long. She ll under 
 stand in a day or two, I ve no doubt." 
 
 VOL. I. 12 
 
178 THE R ALSTONS. 
 
 " I can t do it," said Mrs. Lauderdale, trying to 
 make a stand. "It s too utterly extraordi 
 nary - 
 
 " My dear, I m the master in this house," an 
 swered Alexander, coldly. " I wish it to be so. 
 But if you d rather not speak to her, I ll go my 
 self. She irritates me, but I m glad to say she 
 doesn t intimidate me. As for such domestic 
 difficulties as serving Katharine in her own room, 
 they can be got over. Let your maid take the 
 child her dinner." 
 
 "Well if you insist, I ll go," said Mrs. Lau 
 derdale, weakly yielding. " I couldn t let you go 
 you d quarrel again." 
 
 "I don t insist upon your going, my dear I 
 have no right to. But I insist upon the thing be 
 ing done." 
 
 Mrs. Lauderdale went towards the door. She 
 paused before she went out. "I think you re 
 going too far, Alexander," she said. "I think 
 you re tyrannical." 
 
 " I think not," he answered, coolly. " I should 
 refuse to sit down to table with a man who had 
 used such language to me. I don t see why I 
 should submit to it from Katharine." 
 
 Well " 
 
 Mrs. Lauderdale closed the door behind her, and 
 slowly went upstairs, feeling as though she had 
 been driven from the field after a crushing defeat. 
 
THE R ALSTONS. 179 
 
 Yet she had made very little resistance. With 
 her, the man s cold, arrogant personality was domi 
 nant. She had always submitted to it because 
 there seemed to be no other course. She was con 
 scious of wishing that during the last five minutes 
 she might have possessed her daughter s character 
 and fighting qualities, especially when her husband 
 had quietly thrust all the blame about the treat 
 ment of Wingfield upon herself, without consider 
 ing for a moment that his own words might have 
 been misinterpreted. 
 
 She did not altogether sympathize with him 
 against Katharine. For many years she had felt 
 the galling of his miserable meanness, and had 
 many times suspected that he was by no means as 
 poor as he chose to declare himself to be. 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 MBS. LAUDERDALE went slowly upstairs, think 
 ing over what she should say, as she climbed from 
 one story to another. At the door she knocked 
 softly, and Katharine s voice bade her enter. 
 
 Katharine was standing at the window, looking 
 out, and did not turn round as her mother entered. 
 The evening light was on the houses opposite, and 
 the glow was gently sinking into the darker street. 
 Katharine watched the horse-cars go by, and lis 
 tened mechanically to the jingle of the bells, hardly 
 conscious of either. 
 
 "What is it?" she asked, as she heard the door 
 close. 
 
 Her voice had that peculiar reedy sound which 
 comes of speaking through the closed teeth by the 
 lips only. It seems to mean that the speaker is 
 on the defensive and not to be trifled with. 
 
 " Your father Katharine he s so angry ! 
 He wanted me to speak to you." 
 
 "Oh it s you, mother?" The girl s tone 
 changed a very little, and she turned and came 
 forward. "Well I m sorry," she said, after a 
 short pause. "It can t be helped, I suppose." 
 180 
 
THE EALSTONS. 181 
 
 Mrs. Lauderdale sat down in the one small 
 arm-chair, by the toilet-table, and clasped her 
 hands over her knee, leaning back, and looking up 
 rather wistfully at Katharine. 
 
 "I think in a way it can be helped," said 
 Mrs. Lauderdale, in a conciliatory manner. " If 
 you would go downstairs now, and just say quietly 
 that you re sorry, you know. Just as you said it 
 now. I m sure he d be willing to accept that as 
 an apology." 
 
 "Apology?" Katharine laughed bitterly. "I 
 make an apology to him? No, mother I won t." 
 
 "You ought to really," objected Mrs. Lauder 
 dale, earnestly. "Why, my dear child! Have 
 you any idea of what you ve been saying down 
 stairs? Some of the things you said were dread 
 ful." 
 
 "They were all true, and he knows it, "answered 
 Katharine, stubbornly. 
 
 She leaned against the chest of drawers, and 
 looked down into her mother s upturned face. 
 
 "Oh, no! they weren t all true, dear," protested 
 the latter. "You exaggerated very much. It s 
 quite possible that your father may have saved 
 something in all these years he s so careful! 
 But as for having a million, as you said " 
 
 "But, dear mother there isn t a doubt of it! 
 I didn t promise uncle Robert that I wouldn t tell 
 
182 THE RALSTON8. 
 
 " What? Did uncle Eobert tell you? " 
 
 " Yes ! Of course ! Did you suppose I was in 
 venting? " 
 
 " Well not exactly. But I thought you might 
 have heard some gossip or something Jack Rals 
 ton said " 
 
 "Not at all. Uncle Robert told me that he 
 knew it to be a positive fact a million, at least, 
 he said. And he s quite as truthful as papa " 
 
 "More so," said Mrs. Lauderdale, absently; "I 
 mean," she added, very quickly, with a frightened 
 look, for she had not realized what she was say 
 ing "I mean quite as truthful. They re both 
 perfectly truthful " 
 
 " Yes, " answered Katharine in a doubtful tone, 
 and smiling in spite of herself. " Not but that, if 
 it came to believing, you know, I d believe uncle 
 Robert sooner than papa " 
 
 "Hush, child don t!" 
 
 Katharine said nothing, but still leaned back, 
 resting both elbows on the high chest of drawers 
 on each side behind her, and looking down thought 
 fully at the points of her shoes. Mrs. Lauderdale 
 was silent, too, for several seconds. 
 
 "Well?" Katharine uttered the convenient 
 word interrogatively, without looking up. 
 
 "Well yes," responded Mrs. Lauderdale. "I 
 was going to say that She hesitated. "My 
 dear," she continued, at last, "you ll have to say 
 something to your father, after all this." 
 
THE RALSTONS. 183 
 
 " Something like what I ve said already? " asked 
 Katharine, raising her black eyebrows and glanc 
 ing at her mother. 
 
 "No, no! I m serious, my dear." 
 
 "So am I very. You began to talk of an 
 apology. It s quite useless, mother I can t 
 and I won t apologize." 
 
 " But, Katharine, darling he says he won t see 
 you unless you do he s dreadfully angry still! " 
 
 "Oh -he won t see me? What does that 
 mean? That I m to stay in my room?" She 
 laughed a little. 
 
 "He s in earnest about it," said Mrs. Lauder- 
 dale. "That s what he said he I don t like 
 to say it but I must, I suppose. That s just it. 
 He means you to stay in your room whenever he s 
 in the house." 
 
 "How childish!" exclaimed Katharine, scorn 
 fully. "What do I care? I don t want to see him 
 particularly. But, just for curiosity if he hap 
 pens to meet me on the stairs, for instance, what 
 will he do? Throw things at me? Box my ears? 
 He s quite capable of it as you saw just now 
 
 "Please don t talk like that, dear," said Mrs. 
 Lauderdale. " He was terribly angry and you 
 were saying the most dreadful things he only 
 meant to stop you from speaking." 
 
 " He hurt my mouth, and he hurt my arm 
 there ll be black and blue marks here to-morrow, 
 
184 THE RALSTONS. 
 
 I m sure, by the way it feels." She laid her left 
 hand on her right forearm at the point where her 
 father had seized it. " That s rather like violence, 
 you know, mother." 
 
 Katharine turned perceptibly paler as she spoke 
 of it. Mrs. Lauderdale was pained at the recol 
 lection, and looked away from her, clasping her 
 hands a little more tightly over her knee. 
 
 "Did he ever touch you in that way, mother?" 
 asked the young girl, slowly. 
 
 "Me?" cried Mrs. Lauderdale. "Oh child! 
 How can you think of such a thing! No, indeed! 
 Fancy!" 
 
 "Well I m just as sensitive as you are," an 
 swered Katharine. "Put yourself in my place." 
 
 The unexpected answer silenced the elder 
 woman. 
 
 " I think it s his place to apologize to me and 
 very humbly," added Katharine. "It was a cow 
 ardly piece of violence to a woman. I m willing 
 to believe for the honour of the family, and men 
 generally that he didn t mean to strike, exactly. 
 But it felt very much like it, and I told him so. 
 I ll tell him so again, if he mentions the thing." 
 
 Mrs. Lauderdale was in great difficulties. Her 
 husband and her daughter were both stronger than 
 she, they had no intention of making up their 
 quarrel, and yet, by her position, she was forced 
 to act as intermediary. It was not easy. Her 
 
THE RALSTONS. 185 
 
 husband dominated her by his strong personality. 
 Katharine had the better of her in argument. She 
 turned away a little, in thought, resting one elbow 
 on the toilet-table beside her, and covering her 
 eyes with her hand for a moment. The beautiful, 
 tired features were pale and drawn. 
 
 "It s very hard for me," she said, wearily. 
 "You re both partly wrong and partly right." 
 
 "I think I m altogether right," said Katharine. 
 
 " I know so does he. But you re not either 
 of you nor I, either, for that matter. Oh, dear! 
 I wish I knew what to do ! " 
 
 "There s nothing to be done, I m afraid," an 
 swered the young girl, more gently, for she was 
 somewhat pacified by her mother s owning a share 
 in the blame. "Not that I m going to make a 
 fuss about it, if he doesn t. I m not that kind. 
 I won t come down to dinner to-night, because it 
 would be unpleasant for everybody. As for to 
 morrow we ll see what happens. The idea of 
 shutting me up in my room so long as he s in the 
 house, because the sight of me is disagreeable to 
 him, it s silly it s perfectly childish! Just like 
 an angry man! I m not sure that I should mind 
 it very much, so far as not seeing him s concerned. 
 I don t want to see him, any more than he wants 
 to see me. But it s the principle of the thing 
 that sticks in my throat. It s as though he had 
 the right to treat me like a small child, to be sent 
 
186 THE RALSTONS. 
 
 to bed in a dark room at discretion, until I change 
 my mind. It s the tyranny of the thing, the 
 arrogance of it and when I m altogether right, 
 as you both know." 
 
 "No not altogether," objected Mrs. Lander- 
 dale. 
 
 "I won t go over it again, mother. I ll sum it 
 up in these words. He s rich, and he s told us that 
 he was poor, and he s stood looking on and letting 
 you work to give us small luxuries that amount to 
 necessities. He s wilfully calumniated Jack for 
 months. He s wilfully misled Archie Wing- 
 field" 
 
 " My dear about that he assures me that he 
 only said you might ultimately accept him " 
 
 "Well he knew that I mightn t, and he had 
 no business to say I might," interrupted Katharine, 
 decidedly. "Besides, I can hear just his tone of 
 voice, and his way of slurring over the might 
 till Mr. Wingfield felt it was may oh, it s 
 abominable ! As for his pestering me with ques 
 tions about uncle Robert s will, it s natural enough, 
 considering how he loves money, as a cat loves 
 cream. Oh, I know! You re going to say it s 
 disrespectful to say such things. Perhaps it is 
 I don t know he seems to lap it up with that 
 smile of his and it disappears, and we have to 
 live on the drops. No I don t feel respectful. 
 Why should I? I ve respected him for nineteen 
 
THE RALSTONS. 187 
 
 years, and I can t respect him any longer. It s 
 over, once and for all. When a man deliberately 
 sets to work to destroy his daughter s chances of 
 being happy oh, well! It isn t only that. It s 
 the whole thing, the meanness, the miserliness, 
 the Simday-go-to-meeting-and-sit-up-straight sort 
 of virtuous superiority outside and all this other 
 inside. It s revolting. It s upset all my ideas. 
 I don t feel as though I could ever believe in 
 anything again. I don t mean to shock you, 
 mother, but I can t help saying it, just now." 
 
 "It s dreadful!" Mrs. Lauderdale spoke in a 
 low voice and earnestly. 
 
 Katharine was silent for a few moments, and 
 looked out of the window. It was almost dark 
 by this time. 
 
 "You know, mother," she said, suddenly, "I 
 used to admire papa very much, in a certain 
 way. I don t think you ever quite realized that. 
 Of course I ve been brought up in his church, 
 though I ve much more sympathy with yours. It 
 always seems to me that his is a man s religion, 
 and yours is a woman s. But then Mr. Griggs 
 says the world is a woman, in a sort of way, so 
 yours ought to be the religion of the world. 
 Never mind I don t know enough to talk about 
 these things. What I mean is this. I used to 
 admire papa s uncompromising way of looking at 
 life, and the way I thought he d tell the truth and 
 
188 THE EAL8TONS. 
 
 shame the devil at any price, and his cold, un 
 reasoning, settled certainty about heaven and hell 
 and the way I thought that he took his flinty 
 goodness down town with him, and did right, when 
 one knows that ever so many business men don t. 
 It all seemed so strong, and cool, and manly. I 
 couldn t help admiring it. And I believed that 
 he was poor, and that although he wouldn t say 
 much, he d fight for us, and die for us, if necessary. 
 And then he s handsome, too, and straight, and 
 steely, and formal. I ve always liked a little 
 formality. Do you see what I mean?" 
 
 "Of course," answered Mrs. Lauderdale, thought 
 fully, and nodding her head with a far-away look 
 in her eyes. 
 
 Katharine had enumerated the very qualities 
 that had once appealed so strongly to her mother. 
 
 " Well " Katharine paused a second. " It s 
 all a sham. That s all." 
 
 Mrs. Lauderdale started at the abrupt, rough 
 words. 
 
 "Oh, Katharine, dear, don t say that! " 
 
 " It s true. It s broken to pieces. It began to 
 crack just before Charlotte was married. It s all 
 broken to bits. I can see the inside of it, and it s 
 not what I thought. There s only one idea, and 
 that s money. It would need a miracle to make 
 me admire him again. It s broken to atoms, and 
 what s so strange is, that it s taken everything 
 
THE RALSTONS. . 189 
 
 with it in the last few months and it s taken 
 the last bit to-day. It s all gone. I can t help 
 it. It s dreadful but it s a sort of confession, 
 like your confessions. I don t believe in God any 
 more." 
 
 "My child, my child!" 
 
 Mrs. Lauderdale looked up at her with scared 
 eyes and rising hands, which sought Katharine s, 
 found them, and gripped them in a frightened 
 way. The devout woman, good at heart with her 
 one big fault, felt as though the world were quak 
 ing under her feet as she heard the last words. 
 Not that Katharine spoke them lightly, for she 
 was in earnest, and the declaration of unbelief was 
 more solemn from its strangeness than almost any 
 confession of rigid faith could have been. 
 
 " Yes, mother I know we won t talk about 
 it. I only want you to understand me we ve 
 been so much together in our lives." 
 
 She spoke sadly now. 
 
 "And we shall be, dear, I hope," answered Mrs. 
 Lauderdale. 
 
 "I don t know perhaps. I don t believe we 
 shall ever be just as we used to be. You re not 
 the same nor am I, I suppose." 
 
 "Oh, yes we are in our hearts. But, Katha 
 rine, darling what you said just now if you 
 knew how it hurts me " 
 
 "It s not your fault, mother. If anybody s to 
 
1 ( JO THE K ALSTONS. 
 
 blame, it s papa, and I think lie is. Oh, no! 
 You re different. After all, we re only a pair of 
 women, you and I. We can quarrel and make up, 
 and nobody will be hurt in the end. We re not 
 each other s ideals not that papa was mine, or 
 anything like it. But you naturally believe in a 
 thing more when a strong man stands up and 
 asserts it and fights for it, than if it turns out 
 that he only says that he believes in it, out of 
 prejudice and family tradition and a sort of 
 impression that after all he may go to the wrong 
 place if he doesn t. He s always talking about 
 setting an example it seems to me that the 
 example lies in the effect of the thing upon the 
 person one s to imitate. If this is the effect of 
 religion on him, I don t want it. I d rather talk 
 to Teddy Van De Water, who chatters about Dar 
 win and Spencer without knowing anything par 
 ticular about them, and sticks his glass in his eye 
 and makes bad jokes about the future state, but 
 who d burn his hand to the wrist rather than do 
 anything he thought mean. Men have done that 
 sort of thing before now they re not the men 
 who talk about God over the soup, and try to sell 
 their daughters at dessert ! " 
 
 " Katharine " Mrs. Lauderdale could not find 
 words. 
 
 "I know but papa s not here and then, I 
 don t mean to talk about it any longer. You ve 
 
THE EALSTONS. 191 
 
 come up from him, I suppose, mother, to say that 
 he doesn t want to see me. Very well. I don t 
 want to see him. But how long is this state of 
 things to last? I won t apologize, and I suppose 
 he won t give in. It may go on for months, then. 
 Supposing I refuse to be imprisoned in this way, 
 is he going to lock me in and take the key with 
 him? What s he going to do? I want to know 
 what to expect." 
 
 "My dear, I don t know he only said that. 
 Just what I told you." 
 
 "Because if it s going to be a siege, I ll go 
 away," said Katharine, calmly. 
 
 " I proposed that you should go to Washington 
 and spend a fortnight with Charlotte. He wouldn t 
 hear of it." 
 
 "Yes but if I just go without asking his 
 leave? What will happen? What do you think? 
 Girls often go alone, and it s only five hours by 
 the half-past eleven train that Charlotte always 
 takes. She d be glad to have me, too." 
 
 "Your father would be quite capable of going 
 and bringing you back on Sunday." 
 
 " On Sunday ! " Katharine laughed hardly. " How 
 you know him! He wouldn t lose a day at his 
 office, to save you or me from drowning. That s 
 what he calls duty. Yes perhaps he d come, as 
 you say. Then we should have an opportunity of 
 fighting it out on the way back. Five hours, side 
 
192 THE R ALSTONS. 
 
 by side but I suppose we should turn our chairs 
 back to back and go to sleep or read. But he 
 might not come, after all. Do you know? I 
 should feel a sort of sense of security at the 
 Slay backs . I like him, though Charlotte makes 
 fun of him. There s something real about him. 
 I didn t mean to go to Washington, though." 
 
 "You couldn t go to the Kalstons ," observed 
 Mrs. Lauderdale. "With Jack at home people 
 would talk." 
 
 "If I went there, I should stay," answered 
 Katharine, with a coolness that startled her 
 mother. "I should never come back at all. 
 Perhaps I shall some day. Who knows? No 
 I thought I d go and stop with uncle Kobert. 
 That would terrify papa. He d suppose, in the 
 first place, that I d tell uncle Kobert everything 
 that s happened, and then that uncle Kobert would 
 tell me a great deal more about his intentions 
 with regard to the will. That would make papa 
 anxious to be nice to me when I came home again, 
 so as to get the secret out of me. I think it s a 
 very good plan; don t you? Uncle Kobert would 
 be delighted. He s all alone and not at all strong. 
 The very last time I saw him, he begged me to 
 come and stay a few days. I think I will. Fancy 
 papa s rage! He d scarcely dare to come and get 
 me there, I imagine." 
 
 Mrs. Lauderdale did not answer at once. She 
 
THE RALSTONS. 193 
 
 saw the immense advantage Katharine would have 
 over her father if she carried out the plan, and 
 it seemed too great. Alexander would be almost 
 at his daughter s mercy. She could dictate her 
 own terms of peace. Incensed as she was against 
 him, she could easily use her influence against him 
 with his uncle, who had a lonely old man s fond 
 ness for the beautiful girl. 
 
 "Of course you could go I couldn t prevent 
 you," said Mrs. Lauderclale, rather helplessly. 
 
 "Of course I could. I ve only to walk there. 
 Uncle Robert will send for my things." 
 
 "I hope you won t, dear. It wouldn t make it 
 easier for me he ll think it s been my fault, you 
 know and then " 
 
 Katharine looked at her mother in silence for 
 a moment, and pitied her too much, even after 
 what had passed between them, to leave her to 
 Alexander s temper. 
 
 "I won t go yet," said Katharine. "I won t 
 go unless he s perfectly intractable. Go and tell 
 him that it s all right, mother. I ll submit quietly 
 and stay in my room as long as he s in the house 
 quite as much for my own sake as for his, you 
 can tell him. If he asks about my apologizing, 
 tell him that I won t, and that 1 expect an apology 
 from him. It can t last forever. One of us will 
 have to give in, at the end but I won t. You 
 can put it all as mildly as you like, only don t 
 
 VOL. I. 13 
 
194 THE RALSTONS. 
 
 give him any impression that I m submitting to 
 him morally, even if I m willing to keep out of 
 his way." 
 
 " Couldn t you say something a little nicer than 
 that, dear?" asked Mrs. Lauderdale, pleadingly, 
 for she anticipated more trouble. "Couldn t you 
 say that you d let by-gones be by-gones or some 
 thing of that sort ? " 
 
 " It wouldn t be true. These are not by-gones. 
 They re present things. The nice by-gones will 
 never come back." 
 
 Mrs. Lauderdale rose slowly to the height of her 
 still graceful figure, and stood before her daughter 
 for a moment. In the emotion of the past hour 
 she had forgotten for a time her envy of the 
 girl s blossoming beauty. For a moment she was 
 impelled to throw her arms round Katharine s 
 neck in the old way, and kiss her, and try to make 
 things again what they had been. But something 
 hard in the young grey eyes stopped her. She 
 felt that she herself was not forgiven yet and 
 might never be, altogether. 
 
 "Very well," she said, quietly. "I ll do my 
 best." 
 
 She turned and left the room, leaving Katharine 
 still leaning back against the chest of drawers in 
 the position she had not abandoned throughout the 
 conversation. 
 
 When Katharine was alone, she stood up, turned 
 
THE RALSTONS. 195 
 
 round and pulled out the upper drawer. Amongst 
 her gloves and handkerchiefs lay a photograph of 
 John Ralston. She took it out and looked at the 
 keen, dark face, with its set lips, its prominent 
 bony temples, and its nervous lines that would be 
 furrows too soon. 
 
 "You re worth all the Lauderdales and the 
 Wingfields put together! " she said, in a low voice. 
 
 She kissed the photograph, pressing it hard to 
 her lips and closing her eyes. 
 
 " I wish you were here ! " she said. 
 
 She looked at it again, and again kissed it. 
 Then she put it back with an energetic movement 
 that was almost rough, and shut the drawer. She 
 sat down in the chair her mother had occupied, 
 and gave herself up to thinking over all that had 
 taken place. 
 
 Her instinct was to let John Kalston know as 
 soon as possible what had happened, but she knew 
 how foolish that would be. He would insist that 
 the moment had come for declaring their marriage, 
 and that she must go and live under his mother s 
 roof. But she felt that something must be done 
 soon. If she was willing to submit to her father s 
 sentence, absurd as it was, she found a reason for 
 doing so in her own disinclination to meet him. 
 But the situation could not last. And yet, he 
 was obstinate beyond ordinarily obstinate people, 
 and it would be like him to insist upon banishing 
 
196 THE RALSTONS. 
 
 her for a week. In such things he had no sense 
 of the ridiculous. Apart from the inconvenience 
 and constant annoyance of being expected to keep 
 out of his way, she was young enough to feel 
 humiliated. It was very like a punishment this 
 order not to be seen when her father was in the 
 house. She had no intention of disregarding it, 
 however. To do so would have been to produce 
 an open war of which the rumour would fill 
 society. It was clear that her best course was to 
 be patient as long as possible, and then quietly to 
 go to uncle Kobert s house. The world would 
 think it natural that she should pay him a visit. 
 She had done so before. 
 
 Alexander Junior seemed to be satisfied with 
 the answer his wife brought him. He felt that if 
 he could make Katharine stay in her own room 
 at his discretion, he was still master in his own 
 house, and his injured dignity began to hold up 
 its head again. The old philanthropist did not 
 even ask after Katharine at dinner, though he was 
 fond of her. She so often went out to dine alone 
 with intimate friends, that it did not occur to him 
 to remark upon her absence. But, as usual, when 
 she was not there, the family meal was dull and 
 silent. Alexander ate without speaking, and with 
 the methodical, grimly appreciative appetite of 
 very strong men. Mrs. Lauderdale was not hun 
 gry, and stared at the silver things on the table 
 
THE RALSTONS. 197 
 
 most of the time. The old gentleman bolted his 
 food in the anticipation of tobacco, which tasted 
 best after eating. He was a cheerful old soul 
 when he was not dreaming, an optimist and a 
 professed maker of happiness by the ton, so to 
 say, for those who had been forgotten in the 
 distribution. He had big hands, shiny at the 
 knuckles and pink where a young man s would be 
 white, with horny, yellowish nails, and he was not 
 very neat in his dress, though he had survived 
 from the day when men used to wear dress coats 
 and white ties in their offices all day. The 
 Lauderdale tribe regarded him as a harmless 
 member who had something wrong in his head, 
 while his heart was almost too much in the right 
 place. A certain amount of respect was shown 
 him on account of his age, but though he was the 
 oldest of them all, Robert the Rich was undis- 
 putedly the head of the family. It was generally 
 believed, and, as has been seen, the belief was well 
 founded, that he was not to have any large share 
 of the money in case he survived his brother. 
 
 Early on the following morning Alexander Junior 
 emerged from his dressing-room, equipped for the 
 day. He wore the garments of civilization, but a 
 very little power of imagination might have con 
 verted his dark grey trousers into greaves, his 
 morning coat into a shirt of mail, and his stiff collar 
 into a steel throat-piece. He had slept on his 
 
198 THE R ALSTONS. 
 
 wrath, and had grown more obstinate with the grey 
 of the morning. His voice was metallic and 
 aggressive when he spoke to the serving-girl, 
 demanding why his steak was overdone. When 
 his wife appeared, he rose formally, as usual, and 
 kissed her cheek with a little click, like the lock 
 of a safe. He said little or nothing as he finished 
 his breakfast, and then, without telling her what 
 he meant to do, he went upstairs again and knocked 
 at Katharine s door. 
 
 " Katharine ! " he called to her. " I wish to 
 speak to you." 
 
 "Well " answered the young girl s voice 
 " I m not dressed yet. What is it? " 
 
 "How long shall you be?" enquired Alexander, 
 bending his brows as he leaned against the panel 
 to catch her answer. 
 
 "About three quarters of an hour I should 
 think at least judging from the state of my 
 hair. It s all tangled." 
 
 " Do you know what time it is? " 
 
 "No I ve not looked. Oh my little clock 
 has stopped. It s a quarter past four by my little 
 clock." 
 
 "It s nine o clock," said Alexander Junior, 
 severely. "Three minutes to," he added, looking 
 at his watch. 
 
 "Well I can t help it now. It s only no 
 it s sixteen minutes past four by my little clock." 
 
THE RALSTONS. 199 
 
 " Never mind your little clock. I must be going 
 down town at once, and I wish to speak to you. 
 I can t wait three quarters of an hour." 
 
 "No of course not." 
 
 "Well can t I come in? Aren t you visible?" 
 
 " No. Certainly not. You can t come in. I m 
 brushing my hair. I always brush it ten 
 minutes." 
 
 "Katharine this is absurd! " cried Alexander, 
 becoming exasperated. "Put on something and 
 open the door." 
 
 "No. I can t just now." Her phrases were 
 interrupted by the process of vigorous brushing. 
 " Besides you can talk through the door. I can 
 hear everj" word you say. Can t you hear 
 me?" 
 
 " Yes, I can hear you. But I don t wish to say 
 what I have to say in the hearing of the whole 
 house." 
 
 " Oh! " The soft sound of the brushing ceased. 
 " In that case I d rather not hear it at all." 
 
 " Katharine ! " Alexander felt all his anger of 
 the previous day rising again. 
 
 "Yes what is it?" She seemed to have come 
 nearer to the door. 
 
 " I told you. I wish to speak to you." 
 
 "Yes I know. But you can t unless you ll 
 say it through the door." 
 
 " Katharine ! Don t exasperate me ! " 
 
200 THE EALSTONS. 
 
 "I m not trying to. I understood that you 
 didn t wish to see me for some days. If you d 
 sent me word, I should have been ready to receive 
 you. As it is, I can t." 
 
 " You know perfectly well that you can, in ten 
 minutes, if you please. I shall send your mother 
 to you." 
 
 "Oh very well. I ve not seen her this morn 
 ing. But you d better not wait till I m dressed. 
 It will take a long time." 
 
 "Very well," answered Alexander Junior, who 
 had completely lost his temper by this time. 
 
 A moment later Katharine heard the sharp click 
 of the lock, and the rattle as the key was with 
 drawn. She never used it, having a bolt on the 
 inside. 
 
 "You are at liberty to take all day if you 
 please," said her father. "I have the key in my 
 pocket. Good morning." 
 
 Katharine s lips parted in astonishment, as she 
 turned her eyes towards the door, and she stood 
 staring at it for a moment in speechless indigna 
 tion, realizing that she was locked in for the day. 
 Then, suddenly, her expression changed, and she 
 laughed aloud. Alexander was already far down 
 the stairs. 
 
 But presently she realized that the situation was 
 serious, or, at all events, something more than an 
 noying. She was to be shut up at least until 
 
THE RALSTONS. 201 
 
 after five o clock in the afternoon, all alone, with 
 out food or drink, without the books she wanted, 
 and without any one with whom to exchange a 
 few words. Her face became grave as she fin 
 ished dressing. She knew also that her father 
 had lost his temper again, and she did not care 
 to have all the servants know it. 
 
 She rang the bell, and waited by the door till 
 she heard the maid s footsteps outside. 
 
 "Ask my mother to come here a moment, Jane," 
 she said. "Say that it s important." 
 
 A few moments later Mrs. Lauderdale turned 
 the handle of the lock. 
 
 "Is that you, mother?" asked Katharine. 
 
 "Yes. The door s locked. I can t open it." 
 
 "This is serious," said Katharine, speaking in a 
 low voice, close to the panel. " Papa s locked it 
 and taken the key down town with him. Didn t 
 he tell you?" 
 
 "No it s impossible, child! You must have 
 slipped the bolt inside." 
 
 "But, mother, he said he meant to, and I heard 
 him do it. He got angry because I wouldn t let 
 him in. I couldn t then, for I wasn t dressed, and 
 Jane s putting a new ribbon on my dressing-gown, 
 so I haven t even got that. But I didn t want to. 
 Never mind that I ll tell you by and by. The 
 question is how I m to get out! Unless he didn t 
 quite mean it, and has left the key on the table 
 
202 THE RALSTONS. 
 
 in the entry, with the latch-key. You might 
 look." 
 
 Mrs. Lauderdale went downstairs and searched 
 for the key, but in vain. Katharine was locked 
 in. 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 MRS. LAUDERDALE was indignant. Katharine, 
 at least, had been able to see the ludicrous side of 
 the situation, and had laughed to herself on find 
 ing that she was locked in. Less conventional 
 than either her father or mother, it had occurred 
 to her for a moment that she was acting a part in 
 an amusing comedy. The idea that by one or two 
 absurd phrases she had so irritated Alexander as 
 to make him forget his dignity and his common 
 sense together, and do a thoroughly foolish thing 
 such as a child in a passion might do, was funny in 
 the extreme, she thought. But Mrs. Lauderdale, 
 being called in, as it were, after the play, thought 
 the result very poor fun indeed. In her opinion, 
 her husband had done a senseless thing, in the 
 worst possible taste. 
 
 Fortunately the house was an old one, and the 
 simple, old-fashioned lock was amenable to keys 
 which did not belong to it. In due time, Mrs. 
 Lauderdale found one which served the purpose, 
 and Katharine was set at liberty. 
 
 "This is just a little more than I can bear," she 
 said, as her mother entered the room. " I didn t 
 203 
 
204 THE R ALSTONS. 
 
 expect tliis sort of thing last night when I said I 
 wouldn t go to uncle Eobert s. Really papa s 
 losing his head." 
 
 "I must say, it s going rather far," admitted 
 Mrs. Lauderdale. 
 
 "It s gone a great deal too far," Katharine an 
 swered. "I laughed when I found I was locked 
 in. It seemed so funny. But I won t let him do 
 it again." 
 
 "You two have a faculty for irritating each 
 other that s beyond anything," observed Mrs. 
 Lauderdale. "It really would be much better if 
 you could be separated for a little while. My 
 dear, what do you suppose could happen, if you 
 went to uncle Robert s?" 
 
 " Just what I told you yesterday. Papa would 
 be quite bland when I came home again. By that 
 time he could have got over his rage, and he d 
 want to know things oh, well ! I won t talk 
 about all that. It only hurts you, and it can t do 
 any good, can it? Hadn t I better go up to 
 uncle Robert s and ask if he can have me? Mean 
 while, Jane could pack a few things just what I 
 need to-day I can always come down, or send 
 down, and get anything I want at a moment s 
 notice. Shan t I, mother? What do you think? " 
 
 " Well I don t quite know, child. Of course I 
 ought not to, but then if I don t " She paused, 
 conscious of vagueness. "If I don t let you go," 
 
THE RALSTONS. 205 
 
 she continued, "there ll be worse trouble before 
 long. This is an impossible position, we know, 
 and if you went to Washington, I m sure he d go 
 down on Sunday and bring you back. It was very 
 clever of you to think of going to uncle Robert s." 
 
 "I could go to the Crowdies ," said Katharine, 
 meditatively. " Of course, Hester s my best friend, 
 but I do hate her husband so I can t help it." 
 
 Walter Crowdie was a distinguished young 
 painter, whose pale face and heavy, red mouth 
 were unaccountably repulsive to Katharine, and, 
 in a less degree, to her mother also. Mrs. Crow- 
 die was Hamilton Bright s sister, and therefore a 
 distant cousin. 
 
 "And papa might insist on bringing me back 
 from there, too. There are lots of reasons against 
 it. Besides Hamilton " 
 
 "What about Hamilton?" asked Mrs. Lauder- 
 clale. 
 
 " Oh, nothing ! Mother I don t want to do vio 
 lent things and make a fuss, and all that, you know 
 but if you agree, and think it s sensible, I will 
 go up and ask uncle Robert if I may stay a few 
 days. You can see, yourself, that all this can t go 
 on much longer." 
 
 In her resentment of her father s behaviour, 
 she felt quite reconciled with her mother, and Mrs. 
 Lauderdale was glad as she realized the fact. 
 There was an underthought in her mind, too, 
 
206 THE R ALSTONS. 
 
 which was perhaps not altogether so creditable. 
 Though it was only to be for a few days, Katharine 
 was to be away from her. She, was to have a 
 breathing space from the temptation which tor 
 mented her. For a little while she should be her 
 self again, not contrasted, at every turn of her 
 daily life, with that terrible bloom which ever out 
 shone the fading flower of her own beauty. That 
 was her dream. If she could but be supremely 
 beautiful still for one short month that was all 
 she asked after that, she would submit to time, 
 and give up the pride of life, and never complain 
 again. She would not have acknowledged to her 
 self that this was a motive, for she honestly did 
 her best to fight her sin; but it was there, neverthe 
 less, and influenced her to agree the more readily 
 to Katharine s absence. It counteracted, indeed, 
 the anxiety she felt about her husband s view of 
 the case when he should return from his office 
 late in the afternoon; but her instinct told her, 
 also, that he might very probably be a little 
 ashamed of what he had done, and be secretly glad 
 of the solution unexpectedly offered him. 
 
 Katharine got ready to go in a few minutes. As 
 she put on her hat and gloves, she glanced two or 
 three times at the bit of red ribbon that lay on her 
 toilet-table. She had taken down the signal from 
 the window on the previous evening, in order to 
 inform John Ralston that she could not come that 
 
THE RALSTONS. 207 
 
 morning. On the whole, she was glad that she 
 could not see him, for it would be hard to conceal 
 from him what had happened. She would send 
 him a message down town, and he could see her, 
 undisturbed, at their uncle s house in the afternoon 
 more freely there than anywhere else, indeed, 
 since Robert Lauderdale was in the secret of the 
 clandestine marriage. 
 
 Before she left the house, Mrs. Lauderdale laid 
 her hands upon the girl s shoulders and looked 
 into her eyes with an anxious expression. 
 
 "Katharine, dear," she said, "don t ever let 
 yourself think such things as you said yesterday 
 afternoon." 
 
 "What things, mother?" 
 
 " About not believing you know. You didn t 
 mean what you said, darling, of course and I m 
 not preaching to you. You know I promised long 
 ago that I would never talk about religion to you 
 children, nor influence you. I ve kept my word. 
 But this is different. Religion well, we don t 
 all agree in this world. But God God s for 
 everybody, just the same, dear. But then," she 
 added, quickly, "I know you didn t really mean 
 what you said. Only keep the thought away, 
 when it comes." 
 
 Katharine said nothing, but she nodded gravely 
 and kissed her mother on both cheeks. At the 
 last moment, as she was going to the door, she 
 stopped and turned back. 
 
208 THE ^ALSTONS. 
 
 "Fm awfully sorry to bother you, mother dear," 
 she said, "but I ve got no money not even 
 twenty-five cents. Could you give me something? 
 I don t like to be out with nothing at all in my 
 pocket." 
 
 The deprecating tone, the real, earnest regret at 
 being obliged to ask for even such a trifle, told the 
 tale of what had gone on in the house, unknown to 
 the world, for years, far better than any words 
 could have done. 
 
 "Of course, child I always have something, 
 you know," answered Mrs. Lauderdale, promptly. 
 "Here are ten dollars." 
 
 " Oh I don t want so much ! " cried Katharine. 
 " I m not going to buy anything it s only for 
 horse-cars, and things like that. Give me a dollar 
 and a little change, if you have it." 
 
 But Mrs. Lauderdale insisted that she should 
 take the note. 
 
 " I don t want you to go to uncle Robert s with 
 out a penny in your pocket. It looks like poor 
 relations." 
 
 "Well you re always generous, mother," an 
 swered the young girl, with a little laugh. " But 
 it s papa s relation, and not yours." 
 
 "I know, dear I know. But it makes no 
 difference." 
 
 As Katharine had anticipated, Robert Lauder 
 dale was very glad to see her. He was sitting in 
 
THE E ALSTONS. 209 
 
 his library, into which the sun streamed through 
 the high windows, one of which was partly opened 
 to let in the spring freshness. 
 
 She thought he looked ill. He had not recov 
 ered from the effects of his illness so quickly as 
 Doctor Routh had expected, owing to a certain 
 weakness of the heart, natural enough at his age 
 and after enduring so severe a strain. His appe 
 tite had never returned, and he was thin in the 
 body and almost wasted in the face. If anything, 
 Katharine thought he looked worse than when she 
 had last seen him a few days previously. But he 
 welcomed her with a cheery smile, and she sat 
 down beside him. 
 
 "Come to pay me a little visit?" His voice 
 was oddly hollow. "That s right! I wish you d 
 stay with me a few days again. But then, you re 
 too gay, I suppose." 
 
 "Not at all too gay," laughed Katharine. 
 "That s exactly what I want to do, and why I 
 came at this hour. I wanted to ask if you d have 
 me for a week, and then, if you would, I was 
 going to send for my things. And now you ve 
 spoken first, and I accept. My things are all 
 ready," she added, still smiling. "You see, I 
 knew you d let me come." 
 
 " Of course, little girl ! " answered the old man, 
 his sunken eyes fixing themselves wistfully on her 
 young face. " King for Leek and tell him to send 
 a man down at once." 
 
 VOL. I. 14 
 
210 THE RALSTONS. 
 
 "Oh there s no hurry about it. I made my 
 self as beautiful as I could before starting but 
 I want to dazzle you at dinner. You sit up for 
 dinner, don t you? How are you, uncle, dear? 
 Better? " 
 
 11 Yes yes, " he answered, slowly. " I suppose 
 I m better. But it s slow work. Yes, I sit up 
 for dinner. It makes the days shorter. They re 
 so long. You look pale, my dear. What s the 
 matter? Too much dancing? Too much flirting? 
 Or what? " 
 
 " I never flirt, uncle Robert ! " Katharine laughed 
 again. 
 
 " Well, then, it s time you began, and you d better 
 begin at once with me." 
 
 And the old gentleman laughed, too, a queer 
 hollow laugh that seemed to come from his back 
 bone, with a rattle in it. And he laid two of his 
 great bony fingers against the young girl s pale, 
 fresh cheek as though death played with life, 
 and would like to kiss it. 
 
 So they chatted pleasantly together in the morn 
 ing sunshine amongst the grand old books which 
 the rich man had collected about him. Katharine 
 had no intention of telling him what had happened 
 in Clinton Place, if she could help it. Uncle 
 Robert did not seem to require any reason for her 
 sudden determination to pay him a visit, as she 
 had done before on more than one occasion. He 
 
THE R ALSTONS. 211 
 
 was glad enough to have her, whatever her reasons 
 might be. 
 
 Katharine breathed the atmosphere of freedom 
 and revived. The certainty that for several days, 
 at least, the perpetual contest with her father was 
 not to be renewed, brought colour to her cheeks 
 and light to her eyes. But as the time wore on 
 towards the hour for luncheon, and she came and 
 went, and alternately talked with the old man and 
 read aloud to him a little and sat in silence, watch 
 ing his face, the conviction came over her that he 
 could never get back his strength. The vitality 
 was gone out of him, and he had grown listless. 
 She could not tell whether he might live much 
 longer, or not, but she felt that he had lost some 
 thing which he could never regain. 
 
 "You feel stronger, don t you?" she asked, in 
 an encouraging tone. 
 
 He did not answer at once, but looked at her 
 affectionately and dreamily. 
 
 "Don t be worried about me, dear girl," he said, 
 at last. "I m doing very well." 
 
 "No, but really " Katharine s face took an 
 anxious expression. 
 
 "Keally?" he repeated, looking at her still. 
 Then his head fell back against the dark red 
 cushion. "I m not dead yet," he said, quietly. 
 "But it s coming it s coming by inches." 
 
 "Don t say that!" 
 
212 THE R ALSTONS. 
 
 But she knew it was true, and she began to talk 
 of other things. He, however, seemed inclined to 
 come back to the subject of his failing strength. 
 
 "I should be better if they didn t bother me," 
 he said. "They keep coming to see whether I m 
 alive, and sending messages to enquire. Confound 
 them! " he exclaimed, with a momentary return of 
 energy. " They couldn t send more flowers if the 
 undertaker were in the house ! What does an old 
 fellow like me want of flowers, I should like to 
 know? They may turn my grave into a flower 
 show if they like, when I m tucked away in it, 
 but I wish they d leave me alone till I am! " 
 
 " Who are they ? " asked Katharine, with some 
 curiosity. 
 
 " The tribe, as you call the family. Your 
 mother s one. Didn t she tell you she sent me 
 flowers?" 
 
 No I ll tell her not to." 
 
 "Don t do that, little girl. You just let her 
 alone. If she were the only one I shouldn t 
 care. I wouldn t hurt her feelings for anything, 
 you know and then, it means something when 
 she sends them, because she works for them and 
 earns the money. But why the dickens the three 
 Miss Miners should think it necessary to send me 
 American Beauties in cardboard boxes, I can t 
 conceive. They re comfortably off enough, now, 
 but that s no reason, and they can t stand the 
 
THE R ALSTONS. 213 
 
 expense of that sort of thing long. Perhaps they 
 think it won t last long. Of course it s well 
 meant. I made Beman give them a lift with 
 some little stocks they had lying round, and he 
 took an interest in the thing, I suppose, for I hear 
 that they re very comfortable ten thousand a 
 year amongst the four of them, with Frank and 
 I suppose he earns something with all his writ 
 ings, doesn t he?" 
 
 "Oh, yes. The Century gave him a hundred 
 and fifty dollars for an article the other day. He 
 was so pleased! You have no idea! " 
 
 "I daresay," said the great millionaire, gravely. 
 "Very nice, too a hundred and fifty for one 
 article. Well he s another. He sends me all 
 he writes there s a heap of things on the table, 
 there. That s his corner, you know, because he s 
 the literary man of the family. And he scribbles 
 me little notes with them. He s rather humble 
 about his work for he says he d really be glad 
 if anything he turned out could help to pass the 
 time for me. Well it s nice of him, I know. 
 But it irritates me, somehow. As for that Crowdie, 
 he s the worst of the lot as he s the cleverest. 
 By the bye, what day is to-day Thursday, 
 isn t it?" 
 
 " Yes it s Thursday. Why? " 
 
 "Well he s coming before luncheon to-day. 
 It appears that he s painted a picture of you. I 
 
214 THE RALSTONS. 
 
 think you said something about it last winter, 
 didn t you?" 
 
 "Yes. I told you I was sitting to him. He 
 painted it for Hester. She s my great friend, you 
 know." 
 
 " Oh, yes so she is so she is ! Well that s 
 a singular thing, too. He said in his last note 
 that it was for me." 
 
 "Did he?" Katharine laughed. "You d better 
 take it, uncle dear that is, if you want it. It s 
 a good picture." 
 
 "Everything the young scoundrel does is good! " 
 growled the old man. "Do you like him, child?" 
 
 "Like him! I perfectly loathe him but I 
 can t tell why," she added, in quick apology. 
 "He s always very kind." 
 
 "I don t see how Walter Crowdie can be kind 
 to my niece," said Robert Lauderdale, with rough 
 pride. " Anyhow, he wants to get something out 
 of me. So he s bringing the picture to me this 
 morning. I told you what I meant to do for them 
 in my will. I don t see why I should do anything. 
 They re rich, those people. She had money and 
 he gets big prices, and I ll do him the credit to 
 say he s industrious, at all events. He seems to 
 be a good husband to Hester, too isn t he ? " 
 
 "She adores him," answered Katharine. 
 
 "Well I suppose I m like you. I can t tell 
 why I dislike the man, but I do. It s a case of 
 
THE RALSTONS. 215 
 
 Doctor Fell/ Yes there s Crowdie, and the 
 Miners even Ham Bright he s always enquir 
 ing and leaving cards! As for your father, he 
 writes me long letters once a week, as though I 
 were abroad, and he comes to see me every Sun 
 day afternoon at four o clock, rain or shine." 
 
 "Oh that s where he goes! " cried Katharine. 
 "I often wondered he always disappears on 
 Sunday afternoon." 
 
 " Yes he comes here and tells me what a solid 
 thing the Trust Company is, and how he s devot 
 ing his life to it, and sacrificing his chances of 
 getting rich, so as to be useful. Oh, it s very fine, 
 I admit. But then, he never says anything about 
 that money of his which he keeps put away. And 
 I never say anything about it, either. What s the 
 use it would only make him uncomfortable." 
 
 "But you re quite sure he has it, uncle Robert, 
 aren t you?" asked Katharine. "You re not do 
 ing him an injustice?" 
 
 "Yes. I ve seen it." 
 
 " What the money? I don t understand." 
 
 "I ve seen the value of a million of money in 
 United States Bonds, which were the property of 
 your father," answered the old man. "I won t 
 tell you how it happened, because a banker acci 
 dentally betrayed your father s confidence. It was 
 at the time of a conversion of bonds, two years 
 ago. For some reason or other, Alexander your 
 
216 THE R ALSTONS. 
 
 father couldn t attend to it, or do it all himself. 
 I don t know why. Anyhow, he employed a 
 banker confidentially, and I came to know the fact, 
 and I saw the bonds. So that settles it. He s not 
 squandered a million on your clothes in the last 
 two years, has he, little girl?" 
 
 " Hardly ! " Katharine laughed. " But mightn t 
 it have been trust money, or something like that? " 
 
 "No. His name was there. He s a careful 
 man your father. So it couldn t have been 
 a trust. Well I was going through the list, 
 wasn t I? I haven t half finished. There s your 
 grandfather. Sandy never had much sense when 
 he was a boy. He was all heart; I suppose he 
 knows I m dying, and wants me to give my soul a 
 lift in the shape of some liberal contributions to 
 his charities. I wish you could see the piles of 
 reports he sends, and letters without end in his 
 queer, shaky hand. Dear old Bob; what s a 
 million, more or less, to you, and it would make ten 
 thousand homes happy. That s the sort of thing. 
 Ten thousand idiots! Give them all a hundred 
 dollars apiece of course they d be happy, for a 
 week or two. Sandy forgets the headaches they d 
 have afterwards. He believes everything s good, 
 and everybody s an angel, more or less disguised, 
 but recognizable. Well I suppose it s better to 
 be an optimist. They re the happy people, after 
 all." 
 
THE E ALSTON 8. 217 
 
 "Do you think so? I don t know. People who 
 are always happy can t ever feel how happy they 
 are sometimes, as unhappy people do. That s 
 what s so nice about being sad now and then, 
 when one feels gay, the world s a ball of sunshine. 
 Haven t you felt like that sometimes? I do." 
 
 " Sometimes sometimes, " repeated the old man, 
 with a faint smile. "Not lately. I ve had so 
 many cares. Great wealth complicates the end of 
 life, Katharine. You ll be very rich. Remember 
 that. Have your fortune settled so that it can be 
 easily handled when you re old. That s what I ve 
 done, and it s something, at all events. If I had 
 to be picking up odds and ends and loose threads 
 now, it would be harder than it is. And perhaps 
 I ve made a mistake. Perhaps it s better to tell 
 people just what they have to expect. People 
 worry so! Now there are all the Miners rich 
 relations, you know the Thirlwalls and the Van 
 De Waters, and all that set. I don t know what 
 they think, I m sure. They ve got heaps of 
 money, and there s no reason on earth why I should 
 leave them a dollar. But they worry. Ruth Van 
 De Water comes and brings flowers always 
 flowers I make Leek take them away I sup 
 pose he decorates the pantry with them and she 
 says her mother would so much like to take me to 
 drive when it s warmer. Why? What for? And 
 one of the Thirlwalls sent me some cigars he d 
 
218 THE RALSTONS. 
 
 brought from Havana with him, and old Mrs. 
 Trehearne the one who s old Mrs. Trehearne 
 now, since her sister-in-law died didn t she tod 
 dle in the other day and say she wanted to talk 
 about old times! she s another of those holy 
 scarecrows that hang round death-beds. Now, 
 she s nothing on earth to expect of me. It s sheer 
 love of worry, I believe." 
 
 " People may be fond of you for your own sake," 
 suggested Katharine. " You don t know how nice 
 you are ! That is when you like ! " 
 
 "Well I don t know. It may be but I 
 doubt it. You see, I ve had a good deal of expe 
 rience in the way of being liked." 
 
 "Has it been all a bad experience? You can t 
 tell me that nobody ever liked you for your own 
 sake never, at all. I shouldn t believe it. The 
 world can t be all bad, right through." 
 
 "Oh, no! I didn t say that. And I suppose I 
 shouldn t say anything that looks like cynicism 
 to you, child. Still, I must say there s a good 
 deal of personal interest in the affection a rich 
 man gets. I used to hear that said when I was a 
 boy, and there s a good deal about it in old-fash 
 ioned books, but I didn t believe it. It s money 
 that makes the world go, Katharine, my dear. 
 It s love for one year, perhaps, but it s money all 
 the other sixty-nine out of the seventy. I ve seen 
 a deal of money earned and squandered, and stolen 
 
THE RALSTONS. 219 
 
 and wasted in my time, and there s no denying it 
 money s the main object. It keeps the world 
 going, and when it gets stuck in one place, as 
 it has in my hands, there s an attempt a natural 
 attempt, I suppose to distribute it again. And 
 if it doesn t get distributed, there s a howl of pain 
 from all the relations. It s natural it s natural 
 but it doesn t make dying easier." 
 
 "Don t talk about dying, uncle dear there s 
 no reason for " 
 
 The door opened, and Leek, the butler, ap 
 peared. 
 
 "Mr. Crowdie asks if you ll see him, sir," he 
 said. " He says he wrote that he was coming this 
 morning, sir." 
 
 "Yes yes. I know. Show him in, Leek." 
 The butler disappeared. " I m sorry we don t like 
 him," added the old gentleman, with a rather 
 weary smile. "But I want to see your picture. 
 You Said it was good?" 
 
 "Very." 
 
 There was the short silence of expectancy which 
 precedes the entry of a visitor, and then the door 
 opened again and Crowdie came in. He was of 
 average height, but ill made, slightly in-kneed and 
 weak-shouldered, neither thin nor stout ; pale, with 
 a pear-shaped face and bright red lips, beautiful 
 brown eyes and silky brown, hair which was a little 
 too long. His hands and feet were small the 
 
220 THE RALSTONS. 
 
 hands being very white, with pointed fingers, and 
 they looked soft. He dressed well. 
 
 "It s so kind of you to let me come, sir," he 
 said, as he shook hands. "I hope you re really 
 better. Why, Miss Lauderdale, I didn t expect to 
 see you! How do you do?" 
 
 "Thanks how do you do? I m staying here, 
 you know." 
 
 Old Lauderdale pointed to a seat. He had shaken 
 hands with the painter, but had not spoken. 
 
 "Yes," he said, as Crowdie sat down, "as my 
 niece is here, we can compare her with her por 
 trait. I m very much obliged to you for thinking 
 of giving it to me, I m sure. I hope you ve 
 brought it." 
 
 Crowdie had grasped the situation at a glance. 
 
 " It was meant for my wife she s Miss Lau- 
 derdale s most intimate friend, you know," he said, 
 with tine frankness. " But we consulted about it, 
 and we decided that I should offer you this one 
 and do another for her from the sketches I have. 
 May I have it brought in? It s rather a big thing, 
 I m afraid." 
 
 "By all means, let s see it," said the old man, 
 touching the bell at his elbow as Crowdie rose. 
 " The men will bring it in all right you needn t 
 go, Mr. Crowdie." 
 
 Crowdie went towards the door, however, with 
 an artist s instinctive anxiety for the safety of his 
 
THE R ALSTONS. 221 
 
 work, and while he was turned away Robert 
 Lauderdale s eyes met Katharine s. They botli 
 smiled a little at the same moment, admiring the 
 quick-witted ingenuity with which Crowdie had 
 turned the difficulty of presenting the portrait to 
 the old man while Katharine, to whom he had said 
 that it was for her friend, his wife, sat look 
 ing on. 
 
 Two footmen, marshalled and directed by Leek, 
 brought in the picture. 
 
 "Set it up on this arm-chair," said Crowdie. 
 "It will be quite steady so a little more to 
 the light the least bit the other way that ll do 
 thanks. Can you see it well?" he asked, turn 
 ing to the other two. 
 
 "It s a good picture, isn t it?" asked Katharine, 
 after they had both gazed at it in silence for a 
 full minute. 
 
 "It s wonderful!" exclaimed the old man, in 
 genuine admiration. "It s a great picture, Mr. 
 Crowdie. I congratulate you and myself and 
 the young lady here," he added, laying his hand 
 on Katharine s arm as she sat beside him. 
 
 Crowdie was pleased. He knew very well, by 
 long experience, when admiration was real and 
 when it was feigned. Of late years, the true note 
 had rarely failed in the chorus of approval. 
 Whatever he might be as a man, he was a 
 thorough artist, and a very good one, too. 
 
222 THE RALSTONS. 
 
 " I m so glad you like it yourself, Miss Lauder- 
 dale," he said, coming nearer to her as he spoke. 
 That s always a test." 
 
 "Yes I do like it. But I suppose I ought 
 not to criticise ought I? I don t know anything 
 about it." 
 
 "Oh, yes, you do. I should like to hear what 
 you think. You ve not seen it for two or three 
 weeks, and then it was in the studio. You ve got 
 a new impressiorl of it now. Tell me won t 
 you?" 
 
 "Well you don t mind? Keally not? Then 
 I ll tell you. I think you ve put something of 
 Hester into me. Look at it. Do you see it 
 yourself? " 
 
 "Xo frankly, I don t," answered Crowdie, but 
 a change came over his face as he spoke a mere 
 shadow of amusement, a slight thickening of the 
 heavy red lips. 
 
 "It s in the eyes and the mouth," continued 
 Katharine. "I don t know exactly what it is, 
 but it reminds me of Hester in such an odd way 
 
 as I ve seen her look sometimes. There s a 
 little sort of drawing down of the eyelids at the 
 corners and up in the middle, with a kind of 
 passionate, longing look she has now and then. 
 Don t you see it? And the mouth I don t know 
 
 it reminds me of her, too the lips just parted 
 a little as though they wanted something the 
 
THE BALSTONS. 223 
 
 way one looks at big strawberries on the table 
 before they re served " Katharine laughed. 
 
 "Yes but that s just the way you looked," 
 protested Crowdie. "Doesn t Miss Lauderdale 
 raise her eyes just in that way, Mr. Lauderdale?" 
 he asked, turning to the old gentleman. 
 
 "Oh, no!" laughed Katharine. "I never look 
 like that. I keep my mouth shut and glare 
 straight at people." 
 
 " It seems to me to be very like, " said the old 
 man, bending forward with his great head on one 
 side and his hands on his knees, as he looked at 
 the portrait. 
 
 "It s a great picture, anyway whether it s 
 like me or not," said Katharine. 
 
 She was too unaffected to make any foolish 
 remarks about being nattered too much. She ac 
 cepted the fact that she was good-looking, and 
 said nothing about it. Crowdie reflected for a 
 moment, wishing to turn a graceful compliment 
 upon her last speech, but he could think of nothing 
 new. His mind was preoccupied by the discovery 
 she had made of a fact by no means new to 
 himself nor, perhaps, wholly unintentional. 
 
 "Where shall we hang it, Mr. Crowdie?" asked 
 the old gentleman, at last. 
 
 "Ah that s an important question. Where 
 should you like it, sir? " 
 
 Crowdie occasionally introduced a sir when 
 
224 THE RALSTONS. 
 
 he addressed the millionaire, by way of hinting, 
 perhaps, that he considered him to be the head 
 of the family, though his only connection was 
 through his wife, and that was a distant one. 
 Hester Crowdie s maternal great-grandfather had 
 been Robert Lauderdale s uncle. 
 
 "I should like it near me," said the old man. 
 "Couldn t we have it in this room?" 
 
 "Why not? Just where it is, if you like it 
 there. I ll get you an easel and a bit of stuff to 
 drape it with in an hour." 
 
 "An easel? H m that s not very neat, is it? 
 An easel out in the middle of the room I don t 
 know how that would look." 
 
 "What difference does it make if you d like 
 it here?" asked Katharine. 
 
 "That s true, child why shouldn t I have 
 what I like?" asked the old millionaire. 
 
 Crowdie laughed. 
 
 "If anybody has the right and the power to 
 please himself, you have," he said. " Miss Lauder- 
 dale, would you mind sitting down beside the 
 picture for a moment? I want to have a good 
 look at it once more 1 should just like to see 
 if I can find that resemblance to Hester." 
 
 "Certainly." 
 
 Katharine sat down, assuming easily enough the 
 attitude she had been accustomed to during a 
 number of sittings. Crowdie drew back and 
 
THE EALSTONS. 225 
 
 looked at her. Then he came to her again and 
 put out his hand towards her hair, but instantly 
 withdrew it. 
 
 "I remember," he said, quickly, but in a low 
 voice. "You don t like me to touch it. Would 
 you raise your hair a little on the sides? You 
 know how it was." 
 
 She looked up into his face and saw the ex 
 pression she detested a sort of disagreeable 
 smile on the heavy red lips. The feeling of 
 repulsion was so strong that she almost shivered. 
 Crowdie drew back and looked again. 
 
 "I can t see it for the life of me!" said 
 Crowdie, with a little laugh. " If you ll excuse 
 me, Mr. Lauderdale, I ll go and get the easel at 
 once." 
 
 Yes do ! " said Katharine. 
 
 "Well but won t you stay to luncheon, Mr. 
 Crowdie?" asked the old man. 
 
 "Thanks I should like to but I ve got a 
 sitter coming. You re very kind. I ll bring the 
 easel myself." 
 
 "Thank you very much. See you by and by, 
 then," answered Mr. Lauderdale. 
 
 When Crowdie was gone, the old man looked 
 long and earnestly at the picture. Gradually what 
 Katharine meant by the resemblance to Hester 
 dawned upon him, and he knit his bushy white 
 eyebrows. 
 
 VOL. i. 15 
 
226 THE R ALSTONS. 
 
 "I m sorry you told me," he said, at last. "I 
 see it now what you mean and I don t like 
 it." 
 
 "Somehow I don t know it looks like a 
 woman who s been through something I don t 
 know exactly what. Perhaps it is like an older 
 woman a married woman." 
 
 "H m perhaps so. I think it is. Anyhow, I 
 don t like it." 
 
CHAPTER XI. 
 
 IT was the habit of Robert Lauderdale, since 
 he had been ill, to rest two hours before dinner, 
 a fact of which Katharine was well aware, and 
 she had sent a message to John Ralston begging 
 him to come and see her when he came up town 
 after business hours. But she did not mean to let 
 him come without informing the old gentleman. 
 Before he retired to his room late in the afternoon, 
 she spoke to him about it. 
 
 "Of course, of course, my dear," he answered 
 quickly, in his hollow voice. "He may spend 
 the day here, if he likes and if you like." 
 
 "Well, you see," said Katharine, "I ve not 
 seen him since yesterday morning. You know, 
 since he s been going regularly to business, he s 
 not free in the daytime as he used to be. And 
 as for letting him come to Clinton Place when 
 papa s at home, it s simply out of the question." 
 
 "Is it? Do you mean to say it s as bad as 
 that?" 
 
 "Yes it s pretty bad," Katharine answered, 
 thoughtfully. "We ve not been getting on very 
 well, papa and I. That s why I came to you so 
 227 
 
228 THE P ALSTONS. 
 
 suddenly to-day, without warning. My mother 
 thought it would be better." 
 
 "Oh she did, did she?" The old man closed 
 his eyes, as though thinking it over. "And she s 
 generally a peacemaker," he continued, after a 
 moment. "That s a sign that she thinks the 
 situation strained, as the politicians say. What s 
 happened, little girl?" 
 
 "I don t want to tell you all the details. It s 
 a long story, and wouldn t interest you. But they 
 got it into their heads that I ought -to marry 
 Mr. Wingfield you know Archie Wingfield 
 the beauty and of course I refused him. That 
 was yesterday afternoon. And then oh, I don t 
 know there was a scene, and papa got angry, 
 and so this morning after he d gone down town I 
 consulted with my mother and came here. I only 
 wanted you to know that s all." 
 
 The old gentleman was silent for some time 
 after she had finished speaking. 
 
 "I wish you d induce Jack to stay here, and 
 announce your marriage under my roof," he said 
 at last, in a low voice. "I d like to see it all 
 settled before Katharine, child, feel my pulse, 
 will you?" 
 
 Katharine started a little, and leaned forward 
 quickly, and laid her firm white fingers on the 
 bony wrist. 
 
 "Can you find it?" he asked, rather anxiously. 
 
THE EALSTONS. 229 
 
 "No yes wait a moment don t speak!" 
 She held her breath, her eyes fixed upon his grey 
 face as she pressed the point where she thought 
 the pulse should be. "Yes there it is!" she 
 exclaimed suddenly, in a tone of relief. " It s all 
 right, uncle Robert, only I couldn t find it at first. 
 I can feel it quite distinctly now. Does it always 
 go so fast as that? " 
 
 " It s going very fast, isn t it ? I have a little 
 fluttering at my heart." 
 
 " Shan t I send for Doctor Kouth? " asked Katha 
 rine, with renewed anxiety. 
 
 "Oh, no it s no use." His voice was growing 
 perceptibly more feeble. " I shall be better pres 
 ently," he whispered, and closed his eyes again. 
 Then, as though fearing lest his whisper should 
 frighten her, he made an effort and spoke aloud 
 again. "It often happens," he said. "Don t be 
 afraid, little girl." 
 
 Katharine had no experience of sickness, a,nd 
 did not know the danger of that fluttering at the 
 heart in such a case. She thought he knew better 
 than she whether he needed anything or not, and 
 that it would be wiser not to annoy him with 
 questions. She was used to manly men who said 
 what they wished and nothing more. He lay 
 back in his big chair, breathing with some diffi 
 culty. A deep furrow appeared between his eye 
 brows, which gave his face an expression of pain, 
 
230 THE R ALSTONS. 
 
 and his jaw dropped a little, making his cheeks 
 look more hollow. Katharine sat quite still for 
 several minutes. 
 
 "Are you suffering, uncle dear?" she asked at 
 last, bending to his ear. 
 
 He shook his head slowly, opened his eyes a 
 little and closed them again. 
 
 "I shall be better in a minute," he said, a 
 moment later. 
 
 He revived very slowly, as she sat there watch 
 ing him, and as the furrow disappeared from his 
 brow and his mouth closed, the look of life came 
 back to his face. He was a strong old man, and, 
 though little attached to life, was to die hard. He 
 opened his eyes at last and looked at Katharine, 
 smiling a little. 
 
 "I think I ll go to my room," he said. "It s 
 my time for resting, you know. Perhaps I ve 
 been up a little too long." 
 
 To Katharine s surprise, he was able to stand 
 when Leek and the footman came to help him, and 
 to walk without much difficulty. She followed the 
 little procession to the door of his bedroom and saw 
 Mrs. Deems come and take charge of him. He 
 turned his head slowly towards Katharine and 
 smiled before the door closed. 
 
 "It s all right, little girl," he said. 
 
 She went downstairs again and returned to the 
 library. It faced the south and was still warm 
 
THE RALSTONS. 231 
 
 with the sunshine. She sat down again in the 
 chair she had occupied before. Presently her eyes 
 turned instinctively to her portrait. Crowdie had 
 brought the easel while she and her uncle had been 
 at luncheon, and had arranged it himself. He had 
 come into the dining-room, and after exchanging 
 a few more words, had gone away again. 
 
 She gazed at the beautiful features, now that she 
 was alone with it, and the feeling of dislike and 
 repulsion grew stronger, till she felt something 
 like what she experienced when she looked at 
 Crowdie s pale face and red mouth. She felt that 
 he had put something into the painting which had 
 no right there, which he had no right to imagine 
 yet she could not tell what it was. Presently 
 she rose and glanced round the room in search of 
 a looking-glass. But old Lauderdale did not like 
 mirrors, and there was none in the library. On 
 the table, however, stood a photograph of herself 
 in a silver frame. She seized it as soon as she 
 saw it and held it up in her hand, comparing it 
 with the portrait. She found it hard to tell 
 where the difference lay, unless it was in the 
 eyelids and the slight parting of the lips, but 
 she felt it and disliked it more and more. 
 
 At that moment the door was opened by one of 
 the footmen. 
 
 "Mr. Kalston," said the man, announcing John, 
 who entered immediately afterwards. 
 
232 THE R ALSTONS. 
 
 The door closed behind him as he came forward. 
 Katharine s heart jumped, as she became conscious 
 of his presence. It was as though a strong current 
 of life had been turned u^pon her after having been 
 long alone with death. Ralston moved easily, with 
 the freedom that comes naturally of good propor 
 tions. His bright brown eyes gleamed with pleas 
 ure, and the hard, defiant lines of the lean face 
 relaxed in a rare smile. 
 
 He kissed her tenderly, with a nervous, passion 
 ate lightness that belongs only to finely organized 
 beings, twice or three times. And then she kissed 
 him once with all her heart, and looked into the 
 eyes she loved. 
 
 "How good it is to have this chance!" he 
 exclaimed, happily. "This is better than South 
 Fifth Avenue at nine o clock in the morning 
 isn t it ? Why didn t we think of it before? " 
 
 " I can t be always stopping with uncle Robert, 
 you know," answered Katharine. "I wish I 
 could." 
 
 Something in the tone of the last words attracted 
 his attention. With a gentle touch he made her 
 turn her face to the light, and looked at her. 
 
 "What s happened?" he asked, suddenly. 
 "There s been some trouble, I know. Tell me 
 you ve had more worry at home, haven t you? " 
 
 "Oh it s nothing!" Katharine answered, 
 lightly. "You see how easy it is for me to get 
 away. What does it matter?" 
 
THE KALSTONS. 233 
 
 "Yes but there has been something," insisted 
 John, shaking his head. " I don t like this, Kath 
 arine." 
 
 He turned away from her, and his eyes fell upon 
 the portrait. It instantly fixed his attention. 
 
 "Holloa!" he exclaimed. "Why is it here? 
 I thought it was for Hester." 
 
 Katharine laughed. 
 
 "He brought it this morning," she answered. 
 " He s changed his mind, and has given it to uncle 
 Robert. How do you like it?" 
 
 John looked at it long, his eyelids drooping a 
 little. When he turned his head, he looked di 
 rectly at Katharine s mouth critically. 
 
 "You haven t got a mouth like that," he said, 
 suddenly. "And I never saw that expression in 
 your eyes, either^" he added, a moment later. 
 " What s the fellow been doing? " 
 
 "I don t know, Jack. But I don t like it. I m 
 sure of that, at all events." 
 
 "Does uncle Robert like it?" 
 
 "No. He s anything but pleased, though he 
 thought it splendid at first. Then he saw what 
 you and I see. It wasn t so in the studio, it seems 
 to me. He s done something to it since. Never 
 mind the picture, Jack. Sit down, and let s talk, 
 since we ve got a chance at last." 
 
 John s eyes lingered on the portrait a moment 
 longer, then he turned away with an impatient 
 
234 THE R ALSTONS. 
 
 movement, and sat down beside Katharine. He 
 stroked her hand gently two or three times, and 
 neither said anything. Then he leaned back in his 
 straight chair and crossed one knee over the other. 
 
 "Somebody s trying to get me out of Beman s," 
 he said, and his face darkened. " I wish I knew 
 who it was." 
 
 " Trying to get you out of the bank? " repeated 
 Katharine, in surprise. " Oh, Jack, you must be 
 mistaken." 
 
 Jack laughed a little without smiling. 
 
 "There s no mistake," he said. "Mr. Beman as 
 good as told me so this morning. We came near 
 having a row." 
 
 " Tell me all about it," said Katharine, anxiously, 
 and leaning forward in sympathy. "It s outra 
 geous whoever has done it." 
 
 "Yes, I ll tell you," said John. "It was this 
 way. In the first place, I went to the Vanbrughs 
 last night, after all." 
 
 "But you said you weren t asked! I d have 
 gone, too why didn t you send me word? At 
 least I d have tried to go," she added, recollect 
 ing that she had spent the evening in her room. 
 
 " I found a note when I came up town. It was 
 very informal, you know." 
 
 " Yes they only asked me the day before," said 
 Katharine. "It must have been very amusing. 
 They were going to do all sorts of things." 
 
THE E ALSTONS. 235 
 
 "If you d been there, I should have enjoyed it," 
 answered John. " Yes, they did all sorts of things 
 
 improvised charades and tableaux Crowdie 
 was there, and Griggs, and the set. The best 
 thing was a tableau of Francesca da Rimini. 
 Hester was Francesca you know her eyes. There 
 they are ! " he exclaimed, looking at the portrait. 
 " And they made me do Paolo, and Griggs murdered 
 me " 
 
 " Fancy your acting in a tableau ! " exclaimed 
 Katharine. 
 
 "I never did before but it was all improvised. 
 Griggs looked awfully dangerous with a black 
 beard and a dagger. Of course I couldn t see 
 myself, but they said I was dark and thin and 
 would do; so I did it, just to make the thing go. 
 It was rather fun but I kept watching the door 
 to see if you weren t coming. Well the end of 
 it was that we stayed very late. You know what a 
 fellow Vanbrugh is he s a criminal lawyer, of 
 all things and he knows all kinds of people. 
 There was an actor and any number of musical 
 people, and that Russian pianist what s his 
 name? Bezpodobny, or something like that. 
 And we had supper, and then we got to smoking 
 
 two or three of the women stayed. You know 
 Dolly Vanbrugh likes smoke, and so does Hester. 
 I smoked some horrible Caporal cigarettes, and 
 they gave me a headache. But I didn t drink 
 anything " 
 
236 THE RALSTONS. 
 
 "I know, dear," said Katharine, softly. 
 
 No one knew better than she what he had done 
 for her sake, and how faithfully he was keeping 
 his word. 
 
 " Well I got a headache, much worse than if 
 I d had a lot of champagne and things. I shall 
 have to live on milk and water and barley sugar if 
 I get much worse. I m so nervous since since 
 I gave up all those things. But it will go off 
 I ve asked Routh, and he says it s natural " 
 
 "You didn t tell me," said Katharine, anxiously. 
 "Why didn t you?" 
 
 " Oh why should I? He came to the house 
 he adores my mother, you know, dear old man 
 so I just asked him. Well this morning I felt 
 rather fuzzy in the head woolly, don t you know. 
 And of course I got up early, as usual, though it 
 was awfully late when I got to bed. And then I 
 saw no red ribbon in your window and that put 
 me into a bad temper, so that altogether I wasn t in 
 the humour to be bothered much when I got to the 
 bank. It happened that there wasn t much for me 
 to do at first, and so I did it, and got it out of the 
 way, and I sat doing nothing just like this 
 look here!" 
 
 He rose, and went and sat down at the chair 
 before the great writing-table, on the side away 
 from Katharine. He planted his elbows on the 
 big sheet of blotting paper, and bending down his 
 
THE RALSTONS. 237 
 
 head, clasped his hands over his forehead in the 
 attitude of a man whose head hurts him. 
 
 "Do you see?" he asked, looking up at Katha 
 rine. " My head really ached, and I d nothing to 
 do for a quarter of an hour, so it was quite natu 
 ral." 
 
 "Of course! Why not? Do you have to sit up 
 straight at the bank, like school-children?" 
 
 " Well old Beman seemed to think BO. He 
 came loping along he has a funny walk, you 
 know and I didn t see him. He doesn t often 
 come out. So he d stopped right in front of me 
 before I knew he was there. I looked up sud 
 denly when I heard him speak, and I jumped up. 
 He asked what the matter was, and I told him 
 I had a headache, which was rash, I suppose, 
 considering my reputation. Then he asked me 
 why I was doing nothing, and I told him I d 
 finished what had been given me and was wait 
 ing for more. He grunted in a displeased sort 
 of way, and went off. Then my head hurt me 
 worse than ever, and I put my hands up to my 
 forehead again. In about five minutes, back comes 
 old Beman, and wants to see me in his room. 
 What do you think he said? An old and valued 
 friend had warned him that I had intemperate 
 habits. That was a pleasant way of opening the 
 interview. Then he went on to say that he had 
 paid no attention to the old and valued friend s 
 
238 THE EALSTONS. 
 
 warning, but that I was so evidently suffering from 
 the effects of over-indulgence this morning that he 
 felt it his duty to say that lie could not tolerate 
 dissipated idlers in his house or words to that 
 purpose and that as he had already convinced 
 himself by a previous trial that was a year ago, 
 you know that I had no taste for work, he 
 begged me to consider myself as free from any 
 engagement on the first of next month which 
 struck me as unnecessary warning, considering that 
 I get no salary. That s what happened." 
 
 " It s abominable ! " cried Katharine. " It s out 
 rageous ! But you .didn t take it quietly, like that, 
 Jack? You said something? " 
 
 "Oh, yes I said something several things. 
 I told him quite frankly about myself how I d 
 been rather lively, but had given it all up months 
 ago. It s awful, how a thing like that sticks to 
 one, Katharine ! He was virtuously civil but I 
 can t help liking old Beman, all the same. He 
 didn t believe a word I said. So I told him to 
 ask Ham Bright, who s their junior partner and 
 is privileged to be believed. Unfortunately, Ham 
 didn t go to the Vanbrughs last night and couldn t 
 have sworn to the facts. But that makes no differ 
 ence. Of course, a year ago I d have walked out 
 of Beman s then and there, if he d said such 
 things to me, though I suppose they were true 
 then, more or le o ,s. It s different now a good 
 
TUE EALSTONS. 239 
 
 deal depends on it, and I mean to convince the 
 old gentleman and stay. I don t want him to 
 bring any tales lies, especially to uncle Kob- 
 ert, who got me in. But it s a wonder we didn t 
 throttle each other in his office this morning. I 
 take some credit to myself for having behaved so 
 well. But I confess I should like to know who 
 the old and valued friend is. I d like to be 
 alone with him for a few moments." 
 
 "Yes," said Katharine, thoughtfully. "I wish 
 I knew. Oh, Jack, what a shame ! " she cried, 
 with sudden vehemence. "When you ve been 
 trying so hard, and have succeeded so well! Oh 
 those are the sins people are burned everlast 
 ingly for those mean, back-biting, busy-body 
 sins, dressed up in virtue and friendship ! " 
 
 " I hadn t thought about the everlasting side of 
 it. I should be quite satisfied to see the individual 
 burn for three-quarters of an hour here." 
 
 "Jack " Katharine s face changed suddenly, 
 as though something that shocked her had been 
 forced upon her mind. 
 
 "Yes what is it? Have you guessed who it 
 is? Do you know anything about it? Tell me! " 
 
 " I think I know, " she answered, in a low voice, 
 as though horrorstruck by the discovery. "I m 
 not sure oh, Jack! It s awful! " 
 
 "What s awful? Who do you think it is? " 
 
 "No I won t tell you. I may be wrong, you 
 
240 THE R ALSTONS. 
 
 know, and one has no right to condemn people on 
 a guess. But if it were She stopped. 
 
 "You mean your father? 7 asked Ralston. 
 "Don t you?" 
 
 Katharine was silent. She gave no sign of 
 assent or dissent, but looked straight into John s 
 eyes. 
 
 " Of course you do ! " he exclaimed. " He was 
 in the bank the day before yesterday. Don t you 
 know? I told you I saw him. And he was alone 
 with Mr. Beman in his room. I say Katharine 
 if it is, you know " 
 
 He did not complete the sentence, but his lower 
 jaw went out viciously as his lips closed. Not 
 knowing all that had passed between Katharine 
 and her father, he had not suspected the latter at 
 first. It was only when he remembered that he 
 had told Katharine of his appearance at the bank, 
 which she must remember, that he understood what 
 she meant. 
 
 "I m not sure, Jack," she said. "Don t imag 
 ine that I m sure." 
 
 " All right I ll ask Mr. Beman " 
 
 "Don t! " cried Katharine, in sudden anxiety. 
 
 "Why not? He s got no right to conceal the 
 name of a man who libels me. I shall tell him 
 that I wish to be confronted with his informant, 
 and that as a gentleman he s bound to give me the 
 chance of justifying myself. Of course he ll say 
 
THE BALSTONS. 241 
 
 that he can t send for Mr. Lauderdale to discuss 
 a clerk s character. Then I think I ll take Ham 
 Bright with me and go round to the Trust Com 
 pany. It won t take a quarter of an hour." 
 
 "Of course you have a right to, Jack," said 
 Katharine. "Only, I hope you won t do that. 
 I m not cowardly, you know, am I? But if you 
 knew what it meant to live in a permanent 
 tempest " 
 
 "Has he been tormenting you again?" asked 
 Ralston, quickly, and forgetting his own troubles 
 at the mention of hers. 
 
 She would have told him everything, and it 
 might have been better if she had. But he had 
 frightened her on the previous day by threatening 
 to insist on announcing their marriage if she were 
 further troubled at home. She thought it wiser to 
 turn back to the original point. 
 
 " If I were sure that it was papa who spoke to 
 Mr. Beman, I could never be civil to him again," 
 she said. "Can you imagine anything much 
 worse? I can t. But you re quite right to try 
 and stay at Beman s. It means a great deal to 
 uncle Kobert your sticking to regular work, don t 
 you see?" 
 
 "I don t know what will happen when he dies," 
 said Ralston, thoughtfully. "Nobody else will 
 ever do anything for me, when he s gone." 
 
 "No," answered Katharine, suppressing a smile 
 16 
 
242 THE EALSTONS. 
 
 at the thought of what she knew, "nobody else 
 will do anything. Let s hope that uncle Robert 
 will live long enough to see you succeed. But do 
 you know, Jack, I m anxious about him. Of 
 course Doctor Routh tells him he ll get quite well 
 again, and I daresay he will, but I can t help 
 feeling sometimes, when I m with him she 
 hesitated. "He s very old, you know," she added. 
 
 They talked for some time of the old gentleman s 
 condition, and he would have been pleased, could 
 he have heard them, at their genuine hope for his 
 recovery. It would have balanced the sentiments 
 of some other members of the family as he had 
 described them to Katharine that morning. They 
 had much to say to one another, and as there was 
 no especial reason why John should go away, he 
 stayed, overjoyed at his good fortune in being able 
 to talk with her at last without the fear of inter 
 ruption and of exciting attention, which beset them 
 when they met at parties. 
 
 It was growing late, and the sunshine had turned 
 red and was fading from the splendid old books on 
 the east wall of the room, when the door opened 
 and Leek appeared. 
 
 " Mr. Alexander Lauderdale wishes to speak with 
 you, Miss Katharine," he said, and then glanced 
 discreetly at Ralston. 
 
 It is necessary to say that Leek was almost as 
 thoroughly acquainted with the state of the fam- 
 
THE R ALSTONS. 243 
 
 ily s affairs as any member of it, and that Alex 
 ander s dislike of John was perfectly well known 
 to him. 
 
 Katharine stopped in the middle of a phrase, as 
 though she had been struck. Ralston looked at 
 the butler and then at Katharine, wondering what 
 she would say. The library, constructed with a 
 view to avoiding draughts, had only one door, 
 which led into the hall, so that John could not go 
 out without meeting Alexander. Katharine had 
 not believed that her father would come to make 
 trouble under his uncle s roof, but he was well 
 acquainted with the old gentleman s habits, and 
 knew that he would be resting at that hour. It 
 was a difficult situation. 
 
 "I don t know what to do," said Katharine, in a 
 low voice, helpless, at first. "I can t refuse to 
 see him, since he knows I m in. Can t you get 
 out of the room, Jack?" 
 
 "There s no other door," answered Ralston, 
 looking about. " Face it out. Let him come in ! " 
 
 "I daren t he ll make another scene " 
 
 "Not before me if he begins, I ll make him 
 stop. You can t send him away," he lowered his 
 voice to a whisper. "Imagine what that man 
 would think, and what he d tell the other servants. 
 That settles it." 
 
 Leek stood motionless by the door during the 
 colloquy, which he could not overhear, though he 
 
244 THE P ALSTONS. 
 
 knew exactly what the two were saying. Katha 
 rine hesitated a moment longer, and then gave 
 the order. 
 
 "Ask my father to go into the drawing-room," 
 she said. "I ll come in a moment." 
 
 Ralston laughed softly as Leek disappeared. 
 
 " What idiots we were of course ! " he said. 
 " As though there were only one room. Look here, 
 Katharine," he continued, taking her hand as she 
 rose, "I could slip out while you re in there, but 
 I m not going to. I want to see you afterwards. 
 I ll wait here." 
 
 "Do!" answered Katharine. "I shall feel bet 
 ter if I know you re here. Not that I m frightened 
 but you understand. " 
 
 "Perfectly," answered Kalston, looking at her. 
 
 She left the room and he closed the door behind 
 her. She found her father standing in the middle 
 of the great drawing-room, in the evening light, 
 holding his hat, and still wearing his thin black 
 overcoat, as though he did not mean to stay long 
 an observation which reassured her. But his face 
 was dark and angry and his lips looked dry and 
 cold. She stood still at a little distance from him. 
 
 "Katharine, what is the meaning of this?" he 
 asked, sternly. "Why are you here?" 
 
 "You know why I m here, papa," answered 
 Katharine, quietly, for she was determined, if pos 
 sible, to avoid an angry altercation. 
 
THE EALSTONS. 245 
 
 "I suppose you mean that you ve come here be 
 cause I locked you in your room this morning. I 
 don t consider that a reason." 
 
 "I think you ll admit that you acted hastily," 
 said Katharine. "Besides, have you any objec 
 tion to my paying uncle Robert a visit ? I ve been 
 here before in the same way, you know. You al 
 ways seemed pleased. Won t you sit down? " 
 
 She was trying to be civil, but he was in no 
 humour to court civility. He paid no attention 
 to her invitation, but remained standing in the 
 middle of the room. 
 
 "You understood perfectly well why I locked 
 the door this morning," he said. "It s of no use 
 to say that I acted hastily. I intended that you 
 should feel my authority, and you shall. One of 
 us two must be master. I ll not be browbeaten, 
 and contradicted, and disobeyed by my own daugh 
 ter, besides submitting to any language she chooses 
 to apply to me." 
 
 "Do you propose to take me back by force?" 
 asked Katharine, with a smile. " You know it s 
 impossible. Or do you mean to argue with me? 
 You won t convince me, and you ought to see that 
 you can t." 
 
 " In other words, you ve left your father -s house 
 without warning, and not meaning to come back," 
 answered Alexander Junior, coldly. 
 
 "Not at all. I came here, with my mother s 
 
246 THE R ALSTONS. 
 
 consent, to make a visit. When you agree to treat 
 me properly, I ll come back. I certainly won t 
 stay where I m liable to be locked up in my room 
 by you at your discretion. It s not safe. You 
 didn t even leave the key in the house, so that they 
 might have brought me something to eat if I hadn t 
 been able to get out." 
 
 " You did get out. " 
 
 "By a mere chance. There happened to be a 
 key which fitted the lock, or I might be there 
 still." 
 
 "It s where you should be. How long is this 
 state of war to last? Do you think I ll endure it 
 much longer? You re mistaken." 
 
 " I don t see what you can do, if you won t treat 
 me like a human being. Possibly you may get to 
 the end of my patience, too." 
 
 "Do you mean to threaten me? Me!" Alex 
 ander s face darkened visibly, and he drew him 
 self up to his full height. 
 
 "I don t know," answered Katharine, keeping 
 her temper. "I might think it worth while to 
 explain to uncle Robert, you know. I don t think 
 that he d be particularly pleased if he knew all 
 you ve done. I merely told him that it wasn t 
 very peaceful in our house just now, as you wanted 
 me to marry Mr. Wingfield, and I wouldn t. I ve 
 not told him anything else but I might, you 
 know. I m likely to be with him most of the 
 
THE RALSTONS. 247 
 
 day. I imagine you d rather not offend uncle 
 Robert." 
 
 Katharine was not prepared for the effect pro 
 duced by this speech, which was diametrically 
 opposite to the result she had expected. She had 
 imagined that a reference to the will would act 
 directly upon her father s love of money and make 
 him cautious. Instead of this, however, he grew 
 more angry. 
 
 "If you insult me in this way again, I shall 
 certainly use force," he said, in a harsh way. 
 " You re not of age, and I believe that the law can 
 constrain you to obey me, and the police will act 
 with the law. How do you dare to tell me that 
 you can frighten uncle Robert into changing his 
 will! You re going a little further than yester 
 day. I ve warned you to be careful. It s your 
 own fault if you go too far. The nearest Justice 
 of the Peace will give me an order to remove you 
 to your home in an hour. Don t exasperate me! 
 Put on your things and come quietly with me. If 
 you refuse, I ll act at once. You shall come. I 
 say it, and I won t be disobeyed." 
 
 "And I won t be threatened," answered Katha 
 rine, with a rising intonation. "As for your get 
 ting any order to remove me, as you call it, I doubt 
 whether you could.^ I rather think that uncle 
 Robert is a much more powerful person than you 
 are, and that your policemen would think twice 
 
248 THE RALSTONS. 
 
 before trying to force their way into his house. 
 Don t you think so yourself? " 
 
 Her anger was up, too, and her mother was not 
 there to come between them. She forgot that the 
 door of the drawing-room opened upon the same 
 hall as the library, but that it was not closed ex 
 cept by a heavy curtain. 
 
 "And as for your saying that I ve gone a little 
 further than yesterday," she continued, her deep 
 voice rising strong and clear in the big room, 
 "you ve gone further, too. You ve been trying 
 to hurt me by hurting the man I love. You ve 
 been to Mr. Beman, and you ve told him that 
 Jack is dissipated. Yes I thought so it was 
 you who said it. You can t deny it." 
 
 " Certainly not ! " exclaimed Alexander. " I was 
 quite right to warn an old acquaintance against 
 employing such a fellow. He s a discredit to the 
 bank, he s a " 
 
 "Stop, papa! I forbid you to say such 
 things " 
 
 Alexander s great voice suddenly broke out like 
 thunder. 
 
 "You! You forbid me to say what I please! 
 I say that John Ralston s a reprobate, a man 
 not fit to be received in decent society, a low 
 drunkard " 
 
 "Oh! Is that what you say?" John Ealston 
 
THE E ALSTONS. 249 
 
 drew aside the curtain, and entered the room as he 
 spoke. 
 
 Katharine turned pale, but her father was no 
 coward. His steely eyes fixed themselves on 
 John s face. 
 
CHAPTER XII. 
 
 As Alexander Junior came towards him, John 
 Kalston advanced from the door. Katharine placed 
 herself between them, very much as her mother 
 had come between her father and herself on the 
 previous afternoon. But Ralston laid his hand 
 gently on her arm, and drew her back. 
 
 "Please go into the library, Katharine, " he said. 
 
 " No, no ! " she cried, in answer. " I can t leave 
 you together so." 
 
 " Please go ! " he repeated. " I m angry I 
 must speak I can t before you." 
 
 He pushed her with tender anxiety towards the 
 door, and she felt his hand tremble on her arm. 
 She yielded after a little hesitation, but paused as 
 she reached the curtain, and looked back. John 
 went on and faced Alexander, supposing that Kath 
 arine had left the room. 
 
 " So it was you who spoke to Mr. Beman about 
 me, " said Ralston, in a tone of menace. 
 
 "You re an eavesdropper, sir," answered Alex 
 ander Junior, with contempt. 
 
 " As you were shouting, and the door was open, 
 I couldn t help hearing what you said, Mr. Lau- 
 250 
 
THE EALSTONS. 251 
 
 derdale. I was anxious about Katharine, and had 
 come into the hall." 
 
 " Then you ve heard my opinion of you. You re 
 not likely to change it by trying to browbeat me." 
 
 " I m not browbeating you, as you call it. 
 You ve been saying things about me which are 
 untrue. You ve got to take them back." 
 
 Alexander Lauderdale drew himself up to his 
 height, resting one clenched hand upon his hip. 
 The other held his hat. He looked a dangerous 
 adversary as he stood there, lean and steely, his 
 firm face set like an angry mask, his broad shoul 
 ders square and black against the evening light. 
 
 "It occurs to me to ask how you propose to 
 make me take back anything I ve said," he an 
 swered. , 
 
 Ralston looked at him quietly for several 
 seconds, as a man looks who measures another s 
 strength. Not that he had the slightest thought 
 of violence, even then; but he was a born fighter 
 as much as Alexander, if not more so. His in 
 stinct was always to strike rather than speak, in 
 any quarrel. In a hand-to-hand encounter he 
 would have been overmatched by the elder man, 
 and he knew it. But that was not the reason 
 why he lowered his voice and tried to speak 
 more calmly, instead of growing hotter in alter 
 cation. 
 
 "You ve done me a very great injustice, and 
 
252 THE RALSTONS. 
 
 youVe almost done me a serious injury per 
 haps you really have, for Mr. Beman has turned 
 me out," he said. "It s customary, I think, for 
 people like us to repair such injuries as well as 
 they can." 
 
 "You ve injured yourself by your habits," an 
 swered Alexander. "I ve a perfect right to say 
 so. Don t contest it." 
 
 "It s contestable, at all events. I m willing 
 to admit that I ve been what s called dissipated. 
 More than most men, I daresay." 
 
 " That s undeniable, and that s precisely what I 
 said, or words to the same effect." 
 
 " I think not. You were telling Katharine just 
 now that I was a drunkard and a reprobate. I ve 
 not touched wine for months, and as for being a 
 reprobate it s a strong word, but rather vague. 
 Since you ve used it, please define what you 
 mean by it." 
 
 " It s a general term of disapprobation which I 
 applied to you because I think you re a bad char 
 acter." 
 
 " Accusations of that sort have to be supported. 
 You must go with me to Mr. Beman to-morrow, 
 and repeat what you ve said." 
 
 " Indeed? I shall do nothing of the kind." 
 
 " If Mr. Beman asks you to do it, you ll have to 
 at the risk of losing your character for truthful- 
 
THE B ALSTONS. 253 
 
 "Are you calling me a liar?" asked Alex 
 ander, and his voice rose angrily as lie stepped 
 forward. 
 
 " No, " answered Ralston, calmly, but in a doubt 
 ful tone. " I m not. But you ve made an accusa 
 tion, and if you fail to prove it, Mr. Beman will 
 form his opinion about you. I formed mine long 
 ago. I m turning out to be right." 
 
 "I m quite indifferent to your opinion," said 
 Alexander, contemptuously. "And you re not in 
 a position to influence that of lifelong friends like 
 Mr. Beman. We d better end this discussion at 
 once. It can lead to nothing." 
 
 Katharine, who still stood by the door, her hand 
 on the curtain, devoutly wished that in this, at 
 least, John would follow her father s suggestion. 
 She had a woman s instinctive fear of violence be 
 tween men a fear, strange to say, which has a 
 fascination in it. If John had been inwardly as 
 calm as he outwardly appeared to be, he would 
 undoubtedly have seen that Alexander was right 
 in this. But the insulting words which he had 
 inevitably overheard rankled, as well they might, 
 and against all probability of success, he still hoped 
 that Alexander would make some acknowledgment 
 of having been in the wrong. He thrust his hands 
 into his pockets and made two or three steps, his 
 head bent in thought. Then he turned upon his 
 adversary suddenly again. 
 
254 THE RALSTONS. 
 
 "Do you know or don t you that I ve given 
 up wine since last winter?" he enquired. 
 
 "I ve heard it stated," answered Alexander. 
 "I don t know it." 
 
 "Well it s true. I tell you so now. 1 sup 
 pose you ll make no further difficulty about taking 
 back what you said to Katharine just now that 
 I m a drunkard? " 
 
 "If you have given up wine, you are certainly 
 not a drunkard at present. That s axiomatic. 
 Alexander sneered. 
 
 "Will you remove the condition? I say that \ 
 have given up wine." 
 
 "I should hesitate to accept your unsupported 
 evidence." 
 
 "In other words, you don t admit that I m, 
 speaking the truth? Is that what you mean to 
 say? Yes, or no." 
 
 "I don t accept your unsupported evidence," 
 repeated Alexander, pleased with his own phrase. 
 
 "Do you know what you re saying? It s simply 
 stating that I m not to be believed. You can t 
 put any other meaning upon your words." 
 
 "I don t wish to," answered Alexander, driven 
 to stand by what he haci said, but conscious that 
 he had gone too far. 
 
 A pause followed. John was very pale. Alex 
 ander Lauderdale s face was dark with the blood 
 that rose slowly under the grey olive skin. The 
 hand that held hi?? hat swung quickly by his side 
 
THE RALSTONS. 255 
 
 once or twice. Ralston s lingers twitched ner 
 vously. By the door, Katharine held her breath. 
 
 "Look here, Mr. Lauderdale," said John, in a 
 low voice. " I m not going to strike you here, but 
 when I meet you in the street I will." 
 
 "Jack! Jack!" cried Katharine, rushing for 
 ward and catching his arm, and throwing the other 
 of her own round his neck. 
 
 She knew how much stronger her father was 
 than he. At the sight of her, the deep red colour 
 appeared at last in Alexander s face, and his anger 
 got the better of him altogether. 
 
 "Take your arms from that man s neck!" he 
 cried, furiously. " Don t touch him, I say ! " 
 
 But Katharine did not release her hold. A 
 woman s idea of protecting a man is to wind her 
 self round him, so as to make him perfectly help 
 less to defend himself. 
 
 "Let me go, dear," said Ralston, in a voice sud 
 denly tender, but trembling a little. 
 
 "Katharine! Go, I say ! " The white of Alex 
 ander s eyes was bloodshot. 
 
 But Katharine tried to drag John back from him 
 as he advanced. 
 
 " Go ! Leave the room ! " cried Alexander, 
 roughly. 
 
 With a quick movement he seized her arm, 
 almost where he had grasped it on the previous 
 day, and he tried to pull her away from Kalston. 
 His strong hand hurt her. At the same time E-ala- 
 
256 THE RALSTONS. 
 
 ton, not seeing how tightly Alexander held her, 
 tried to disengage himself from her, as gently as 
 he could. The struggle was not apparently vio 
 lent, yet Katharine was exerting all her strength 
 to cling to Kalston. 
 
 The floor, under the Persian rug, was highly 
 polished. As Katharine stood, overbalanced in 
 her strained position, the carpet slipped under her 
 feet. With a short, half -suppressed cry, more of 
 surprise than of fear, she relaxed her hands, fell 
 sideways, and swung downward, her arm still in 
 her father s iron grip. To tell the truth, he was 
 trying to hold her up, though in reality he had 
 thrown her down. Suddenly she uttered a pierc 
 ing scream, and turned livid, as she fell upon the 
 floor, and her father let go her arm. 
 
 At the same instant John Ralston struck Alex 
 ander Lauderdale a violent blow on the mouth, 
 which sent the taller man staggering back two 
 paces. It all happened in an instant. Alexander 
 sprang forward again instinctively, and struck at 
 John, who dodged the blow and closed with him. 
 They were better matched at wrestling than with 
 fists, for Kalston, though less strong by far, was 
 the quicker, and had the advantage of youth. 
 They swayed and twisted upon each other, the two 
 lean, tough men, like tigers. 
 
 Katharine struggled to her feet. In getting up 
 she tried to use her right hand, and uttered another 
 
THE EALSTONS. 257 
 
 cry of pain, as her weight rested on it a moment 
 in making the effort. It was quite powerless. 
 
 In a few seconds the room was full of people. 
 Katharine s scream had echoed through the open 
 door all over the house. The butler, the footmen, 
 and the housemaids flocked in. The cry was heard 
 even in Robert Lauderdale s bedroom, and he was 
 not asleep. 
 
 The old man started, listened, and raised him- 
 self on his elbow, at the same time touching the 
 bell by which he called his nurse. She had gone 
 out upon the landing, to try and find out what was 
 the matter, but ran back at the sound of the bell. 
 
 "What is it? What s happened?" asked old 
 Lauderdale, and there was an unwonted colour in 
 his face. 
 
 "I don t know, Mr. Lauderdale," answered the 
 nurse, a calm, ugly, middle-aged woman from New 
 England. "It was a woman s voice. Shall I go 
 and ask? " 
 
 "No no!" he cried, huskily. "It was my 
 niece help me up, Mrs. Deems help me up. 
 I ll go as I am." 
 
 He was clad in loose garments of white velvet 
 the only luxurious fancy of his old age. He 
 got up on his feet, steadying himself by the 
 nurse s arm. 
 
 " Let me ring for the men, Mr. Lauderdale, " she 
 said, rather anxiously. 
 
 VOL. I. 17 
 
258 THE EALSTONS. 
 
 "No, no! I can go so, if you ll help me a 
 little oh, God! The child must be hurt! Quick, 
 Mrs. Deems I can walk quicker than this hold 
 your arm a little higher, please. Yes we shall 
 get along nicely so why didn t I have a lift in 
 the house! I was always so strong! Quickly, 
 Mrs. Deems quickly." 
 
 When Robert Lauderdale entered the drawing- 
 room, he saw a crowd of people gathering together 
 round something which they hid from him. 
 
 " Go away ! Go away ! " he cried, in his hollow, 
 broken voice. 
 
 The servants fell back at the voice of the master, 
 only the butler remaining at hand. Katharine 
 was lying back in a deep arm-chair, her broken arm 
 resting upon a little table which had been hastily 
 pushed to her side. John Ralston was bending 
 over it, and looking at it rather helplessly, as pale 
 as death. Opposite him, on Katharine s left, stood 
 her father, his face still darkly flushed, his lips 
 swollen and purple from Ralston s blow. 
 
 " Clear the room and send for Doctor Routh, " 
 said old Lauderdale, turning his head a little 
 towards Leek as he passed him. 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 "I m afraid it s broken," Ralston was saying, 
 and his hands trembled violently as he softly 
 passed them over Katharine s arm. 
 
 Mrs. Deems was already undoing the buttons of 
 
THE EALSTONS. 259 
 
 the tight sleeve which chanced to be the fashion 
 at that time. Robert Lauderdale pushed Alex 
 ander aside, and bent down (Tver the chair, sup 
 porting himself with his hands. 
 
 "Katharine little girl you re hurt, dear," he 
 said, as gently as his hoarseness would let him 
 speak. "How did it happen?" 
 
 "It won t be anything," she said, in answer, 
 shaking her head and trying to smile. 
 
 "How did it happen?" repeated the old man, 
 standing up again, and steadying himself, as he 
 looked anxiously at Kalston. 
 
 But Ralston did not answer at once. Across the 
 old gentleman s shoulder his eyes met Alexander s 
 for an instant. 
 
 "Are you going to tell what you did, or shall 
 I?" he asked, fiercely. 
 
 "What? What?" asked old Robert, in sur 
 prise. "What s this?" He looked from one to 
 the other. 
 
 "Well " Alexander began, "it s rather hard 
 to explain " 
 
 "You re mistaken," interrupted Ralston, 
 promptly. "It s perfectly simple. You threw 
 Katharine down, and she broke her arm." 
 
 " You threw Katharine down ! " repeated 
 the old man, the first words spoken in wonder, 
 the last in wrath. 
 
 "Not at all, uncle Robert," protested Alexander. 
 
260 THE RALSTONS. 
 
 "Do you suppose for a moment that I m such a 
 man as to " 
 
 "I don t care what sort of man you are!" 
 retorted Robert Lauderdale. "If you ve laid 
 hands on Katharine, you shall leave the house 
 for the last time. Tell me what happened, Jack 
 Katharine both of you ! " 
 
 "We quarrelled and didn t see Katharine," said 
 John, his brown eyes on tire. " She thought we d 
 fight, and ran forward and held me round the neck 
 to keep us apart. Her father dragged her away 
 violently and she fell. Then I hit him." 
 
 " I didn t drag her violently " 
 
 " Katharine isn t that what happened? " asked 
 Ralston. 
 
 Old Lauderdale bent down towards her again 
 but there was no need of looking into her eyes to 
 find the truth there. Her only thought was for 
 Ralston, and he was speaking the truth. She 
 loved him as few women love. She had loved him 
 through good and evil report, with all her soul. 
 And she was ruthless of others, as loving women 
 are. For his sake, she would have sent her father 
 to the gallows, if he had done murder, and if the 
 one word which might have saved him could have 
 done Ralston the least hurt. 
 
 "It s exactly as Jack says," she answered, in 
 clear tones. "He pulled me from Jack and threw 
 me down." 
 
THE RALSTONS. 261 
 
 Then the old man s wrath broke out like flame. 
 But there was a little pause first. The blood 
 rushed to his pale cheeks, his bony hands were 
 clenched, and the old veins swelled to bursting in 
 his throat and at his temples. The broken, harsh 
 voice thundered and crashed as he cursed his 
 nephew. 
 
 "God damn you, sir! Leave my house this 
 instant!" 
 
 Alexander Lauderdale Junior had got his deserts 
 and more also, and he knew it. But he stood still 
 where he was. 
 
 "It s useless to argue with a man in your 
 state " he began. 
 
 "Are you going, you damned coward?" roared 
 old Robert. "Ring the bell, Jack send for the 
 men turn that brute out " 
 
 He was beside himself with rage, but John 
 glanced at Alexander, and then walked slowly 
 towards the nearest bell. He was not inclined to 
 spare the man who had injured Katharine. Per 
 haps most men in his position would have carried 
 out the orders of the master of the house. Seeing 
 that he was in the act to press the button, Alex 
 ander yielded. It was not at all probable that the 
 millionaire s half dozen Englishmen would disobey 
 their master, and Robert was capable at the pres 
 ent moment of having him literally kicked into 
 the middle of the street. He had the temper that 
 
262 THE RALSTONS. 
 
 ran through all the blood of the Lauderdale tribe, 
 and it was up the fierce, Lowland Scotch temper 
 that is hard to rouse, and long controllable, but 
 dangerous at the last. He had disliked and despised 
 his nephew for years, but had not sought occasion 
 against him. The occasion had come suddenly and 
 by violence, and the wild beast in him was let 
 loose. 
 
 Katharine s eyes followed her father s tall figure, 
 as he stalked out of the room, with an odd ex 
 pression. She was avenged for much in that 
 moment. 
 
 " Brute ! " growled Robert Lauderdale, as he 
 disappeared behind the curtain. 
 
 "Infernal scoundrel! " answered Ralston, through 
 his closed teeth. 
 
 "I m so sorry I screamed, uncle Robert," said 
 Katharine. " I waked you " 
 
 Mrs. Deems interrupted her. She had ripped 
 the seam of the tight sleeve, for she knew that it 
 could not be drawn over the broken arm. On the 
 white flesh there were two sets of marks the one 
 red, and evidently produced in the late struggle. 
 The others were black and blue. They were side 
 by side, the one set a little higher than the second. 
 The arm was already much swollen. Mrs. Deems 
 li.id listened in silence to what had been said, and 
 her womanly heart had risen in sympathy for 
 Katharine. She touched Kobert Lauderdale s 
 
THE R ALSTONS. 263 
 
 sleeve, and pointed to the old marks on Katha 
 rine s arm, calling his attention to them. 
 
 "Those weren t made now, Mr. Lauderdale," she 
 said, in a low, matter-of-fact tone. 
 
 " No it was last night, " said Katharine, rather 
 faintly. "Jack, dear get me a cup of tea. I 
 don t feel well." 
 
 Kalston hurried away, saying something to him 
 self which was not audible to the others, and which 
 may as well be omitted here. The black and 
 white of paper and ink make youth s blood seem 
 too red. Old Lauderdale s anger was still at the 
 boiling-point, and broke out again. 
 
 "Do you mean to say that he s been maltreat 
 ing you, child?" he asked, his face reddening 
 again. " If he has " 
 
 " No not exactly, uncle dear I ll tell you 
 but I m a little faint. Don t worry." 
 
 She sighed and closed her eyes, as she finished 
 speaking. She was in great pain now that the 
 arm was swelling. 
 
 "Best not talk, Mr. Lauderdale," said Mrs. 
 Deems. "I ll get some ice and napkins." 
 
 And she also left the room. The old man, alone 
 with Katharine, bent over her with difficulty, and 
 kissed her white forehead. His old head trembled 
 as he raised himself again and looked shyly round, 
 as though he had done something to be ashamed of. 
 The young girl opened her eyes, smiled a little, 
 and closed them again at once. 
 
264 THE EALSTONS. 
 
 "Do you feel very ill, little girl?" asked Kobert 
 Lauderdale. 
 
 There was something pathetic in the evident 
 attempt to make his unnatural, hollow voice sound 
 gentle and kind, and lie stroked her thick black 
 hair with one bony hand, while the other rested on 
 the back of the chair. 
 
 " Oh, no it s nothing only the pain in my 
 arm. Don t be frightened, uncle Kobert I m 
 not going to die ! " 
 
 She tried to laugh to reassure him. Then a 
 sharp twinge from the broken limb drew her face. 
 The expression of her suffering was instantly re 
 flected in the old man s features, and his bushy 
 white eyebrows bent themselves. 
 
 "Kouth will be here in a minute," he said, as 
 though reassuring her. "I ve sent for him." 
 
 She nodded her thanks, but said nothing. Then 
 with her left hand she found one of his, and 
 pressed it affectionately. He lifted hers, and 
 pressed his bearded lips to it softly. 
 
 "It will be the worse for him," he said, consol 
 ing her, as many men console women, with the 
 promise of vengeance. 
 
 In his mouth the words might mean much. 
 There are few things which a just man, justly 
 angry, cannot accomplish against an offender, witli 
 the aid of eighty millions of working capital, so to 
 say. Moreover, Kobert Lauderdale was not dead 
 
THE 11 ALSTONS. 265 
 
 yet, and could so change his will, if he pleased, as 
 to keep Alexander from ever receiving any share 
 whatsoever of the great fortune. 
 
 But Katharine was avenged already, and wished 
 no further evil to her father. She had seen him 
 humiliated and driven from the house, and she hud 
 felt that he was not her father, but the man who 
 had insulted and cruelly wronged John Kalston, 
 her lawful husband. She had not seen the blow 
 Ralston had struck, for at that moment she had 
 just fallen to the floor. But all the rest had hap 
 pened before her eyes, and she had neither spoken 
 word nor made sign to spare him. So far, she had 
 been utterly merciless. 
 
 Afterwards, she wondered how she could have 
 been so utterly hard and unforgiving, and tried to 
 remember what she had felt, but she found it im 
 possible. It is hard to recall an old scald when 
 one is floating in cool water. Not that she ever 
 forgave her father for what he did and said during 
 those twenty-four hours that is, in the sense of 
 forgiving entirely and thinking of him as though 
 nothing had happened. That would have been 
 impossible perhaps it would have been scarcely 
 human. The virtue that turns the other cheek to 
 be smitten is in danger of having its head broken 
 by the second buffet, for cowardice takes arms of 
 charity. But they did not quarrel to the end of 
 their natural lives, and it seemed strange to Kath- 
 
266 THE EALSTONS. 
 
 arine, at a later period, that she should have looked 
 on with a calm satisfaction that soothed her bodily 
 pain while Robert Lauderdale ordered her father 
 to be forcibly turned out of the house. But that 
 is not strange, for humanity s hardest present 
 problem is almost always the problem of yester 
 day, which is in black and white, rather than the 
 expectation of to-morrow, confusedly shadowed 
 upon the mist of what is not yet, by the light of 
 the hope of what may be. 
 
 There was a sort of justice, too, in the fact that 
 Robert Lauderdale, who had once quarrelled with 
 John during the winter, should now be taking his 
 side, and be forced to take it by every conviction 
 of fairness. The only thing which Katharine could 
 not understand was her father s own behaviour 
 towards his uncle. It was in accordance with his 
 temper that he should behave to her as he had be 
 haved, and to John Ralston also. But it would 
 have seemed more natural that he should have 
 controlled himself, even by a great effort, rather 
 than have risked offending the possessor of the for 
 tune. On that afternoon he had seemed from the 
 first to be braving the old man s anger. This was 
 a mystery to Katharine. It seemed almost like 
 premeditation. Yet she knew her father s limita 
 tions, and was sure that he was not able to form a 
 deep scheme and carry it out, while mystifying 
 every one who looked on. He was dull, he was 
 
THE EALSTONS. 267 
 
 methodical, he was exact. He was also miserly, as 
 she had lately discovered. But he was a man to 
 keep a secret, rather than to produce one which 
 should need keeping, and she almost suspected 
 that he had lost his senses out of sheer anger, 
 though she knew that he was able to control his 
 temper longer than most men, when he pleased. 
 
 So far as the present was concerned, she felt, as 
 she might well feel, that she was amply avenged, 
 and when Robert Lauderdale seemed to be threat 
 ening further vengeance, she protested. 
 
 "Don t make it any worse, uncle Robert," she 
 said, with an effort, for she was growing very 
 faint. " But you must keep me here till I m well, 
 if you will. I can t go home to him now." 
 
 " Of course, child of course ! Should you like 
 your mother to come and take care of you? " 
 
 "Oh, no thank you let me be with you. 
 We ll be invalids together, you know." She 
 smiled again, opening and closing her eyes. 
 "Don t forget yourself, now," she continued. 
 " You ve had too much exertion too much excite 
 ment sit down and rest here they come with 
 the tea and things." 
 
 John and Mrs. Deems entered in close succes 
 sion. John had insisted upon bringing the tea- 
 tray himself, after overcoming Leek s objection 
 with the greatest difficulty. But Leek appeared, 
 nevertheless, playing footman to Ealston as butler, 
 
268 THE RALSTONS. 
 
 so to say, and bearing a folding stand, which he set 
 down beside Katharine. Mrs. Deems had a bowl 
 of ice and a pile of napkins, with which she in 
 tended to cool Katharine s arm until Dr. Routh 
 arrived. 
 
 " Beg pardon, sir, " said Leek to the old gentle 
 man. "The old brougham was just in with the 
 bays, from exercise, William said, sir, so I sent 
 him as he was for Doctor Routh, sir. I hope I 
 did right, sir?" 
 
 "Quite right, Leek very sensible of you," an 
 swered the old gentleman. "Just help me to a 
 chair, will you? I m a little stiff from standing 
 so long. And get us some light. It s growing 
 dark." 
 
 Leek and Ralston installed him in a comfortable 
 chair on the other side of the tea-table. Mrs. 
 Deems was packing Katharine s arm in ice. The 
 .young girl s face twitched nervously at first, but 
 grew calmer as the cold began to overcome the 
 inflammation. 
 
 Old Lauderdale watched the operation with 
 interest and sympathy. No one but Mrs. Deems 
 knew what Katharine must have suffered before she 
 began to feel the effects of the ice. Ralston stood 
 by in silence, looking at Katharine s face and ready 
 to help if he were needed, which was far from 
 probable. He was still pale, and the passions so 
 furiously roused were still at work within him. 
 
THE EALSTONS. 269 
 
 He could not help dreaming of his next meeting 
 with Alexander Junior, wondering when it would 
 take place and what would happen; but he had 
 the deep and incomparable satisfaction of an angry 
 man who has dealt his enemy one successful blow. 
 There had been nothing wrong about that blow 
 it had gone straight from the shoulder, it had 
 not been parried, and it had crushed the mouth he 
 hated. And even afterwards, in the struggle that 
 had followed, Alexander had not thrown him, in 
 spite of size and weight in his favour these had 
 been matched by youth and quickness. The mo 
 ment the two men had seen that Katharine was 
 hurt, they had loosed their hold on one another 
 and gone to her, just as the servants had rushed 
 into the room. But John was not satisfied, as 
 Katharine was. He had tasted blood, and he 
 thirsted for more to have his fight out, and win 
 or be beaten without interference. He meant to 
 win, and he knew he could make even defeat 
 dangerous, for he was quick of his hands and feet, 
 and tough. 
 
 Of the three, old Eobert was the first to regain 
 his equanimity. Of all the Lauderdale tempers, 
 his was the least hard to rouse and the soonest to 
 expend itself, and therefore the least dangerous. 
 It was commonly said among them that Katharine 
 Ralston, John s mother, who had hardly ever been 
 seen angry, had the most deadly temper in the 
 
270 THE RALSTONS. 
 
 family, though it was not easy to tell on what the 
 tradition rested. John and Alexander had cer 
 tainly not the best, and it was safe to predict 
 that when they met again there would be war. 
 
 The old gentleman had made very unwonted 
 exertions that afternoon, and before she had fin 
 ished doing what she could for Katharine s arm, 
 Mrs. Deems became anxious about him. His 
 cheeks grew hollow, and as the blood sank away 
 from them his face became almost ghastly. Rals 
 ton looked at him attentively and then glanced at 
 the nurse. She nodded, and got a stimulant and 
 gave it to him, and felt his pulse, and shook her 
 head almost imperceptibly. 
 
 " How long is it since the doctor was sent for? " 
 she asked of Ralston, in a low voice. 
 
 " It must be twenty minutes, I should think. " 
 
 " Oh longer than that, I m sure ! " exclaimed 
 Katharine, whose suffering lengthened time. 
 
 " He ll be here presently, then," said Mrs. Deems, 
 somewhat reassured. "How do you feel, Mr. 
 Lauderdale? A little weak? " 
 
 "All right," growled the broken voice. "Take 
 care of Katharine." 
 
 But he did not open his eyes, and spoke rather 
 as though he were dreaming, than as if he were 
 awake. 
 
 "Provided he s at home," said Ralston, half 
 aloud and thinking of the doctor. "Hadn t we 
 better send for some one else, too?" 
 
THE EALSTONS. 271 
 
 He addressed the question to everybody, in a 
 general way. 
 
 "Best wait till the carriage comes back," sug 
 gested Mrs. Deems. 
 
 This seemed sensible, and a silence followed 
 which lasted some time. Ralston stood motionless 
 beside the nurse. Katharine had swallowed some 
 tea and lay quietly in her chair, while the skilful 
 woman did her best with the ice and napkins. The 
 old man s jaw had dropped a little, and he was 
 breathing heavily, as though asleep. Mrs. Deems 
 did not like the sound, for she glanced at him more 
 and more uneasily. 
 
 "There, Miss Katharine," she said, at last, 
 "that s the best we can do till the doctor comes. 
 I think it s only the small bone that s broken, but 
 I don t like to handle it. I guess it s better to 
 leave it so till he comes. Best not try to move 
 yourself." 
 
 Then she went round the table to old Lauderdale 
 again, listened attentively to his breathing and felt 
 his pulse. 
 
 "Are you asleep, Mr. Lauderdale?" she asked, 
 almost in a whisper. 
 
 The jaw moved, and he spoke some unintelligible 
 words. 
 
 "I can t hear what you say," said Mrs. Deems, 
 bending down anxiously. 
 
 He cleared his throat, coughed a little and spoke 
 louder. 
 
272 THE RALSTONS. 
 
 11 Take care of Katharine, " he said, still without 
 opening his eyes. 
 
 "Don t worry about me, uncle Robert," said 
 Katharine, looking at him with anxiety. 
 
 Both she and Ralston turned enquiring glances 
 to Mrs. Deems. She merely shook her head sadly 
 and said nothing. Kalston beckoned to her to 
 come and speak with him. She poured out another 
 dose of the old man s stimulant and set it to his 
 lips. He swallowed it rather eagerly and without 
 difficulty. Then she glanced at Ralston and left 
 the room. A moment later he followed her, and 
 found her waiting for him on the other side of the 
 curtain. 
 
 " You re very anxious, aren t you, Mrs. Deems? " 
 he enquired, in a whisper. 
 
 "Well," she answered, "I suppose I am. I 
 guess he s had a strain with this trouble. I do 
 wish the doctor d come, though. It s a long while 
 since they went for him." 
 
 "Don t you think he s in danger now that he 
 might go off at any moment?" asked Ralston. 
 
 "Well they do with heart failure. That s 
 the danger. But it s a strong family, Mr. Ralston, 
 and he s been a strong man, old Mr. Lauderdale, 
 though he s as weak as a babe now. You just 
 can t tell, in these cases, and that s the fact." 
 
 There was a sound of wheels. A moment later 
 Leek appeared. 
 
THE RALSTONS. 273 
 
 "Doctor Eouth can t be found, sir," he said. 
 "They ve been to his house and to two or three 
 other places, but he can t be found, sir. So I ve 
 sent for Doctor Cheever. He s always on call, as 
 they say in this country, sir." 
 
 "Quite right, Leek," answered Ralston. 
 
 He looked round for Mrs. Deems, but she had 
 gone back into the drawing-room. She was evi 
 dently very anxious. 
 
 VOL. I. 18 
 
CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 EGBERT LAUDERDALE S condition was precari 
 ous, and Mrs. Deems was well aware of the fact 
 as the minutes passed and neither of the doctors 
 who had been sent for appeared. It was Doctor 
 Routh s custom to come a few minutes before din 
 ner time, as well as in the morning, and his visit 
 at that hour was almost a certainty. As ill-luck 
 would have it, Doctor Cheever was also out when 
 the carriage reached his house, having been called 
 away a few moments previously. Urgent mes 
 sages were left for both, and the brougham returned 
 empty a second time. So far as the old gentleman 
 was concerned, Mrs. Deems knew well enough how 
 to do what lay in her power, and she could do 
 nothing more than she had done for Katharine 
 already. But she knew how the least delay in set 
 ting a broken bone increased the difficulty and the 
 pain when it came to be done at last, and her anx 
 iety about Robert Lauderdale did not prevent her 
 from feeling nervous about the young girl. 
 
 No one spoke in the great drawing-room where 
 the old man and Katharine lay with closed eyes 
 in their chairs, while the nurse and Ralston sat 
 274 
 
THE R ALSTONS. 275 
 
 watching them. But when Leek came with the 
 news that Doctor Cheever could not be found, 
 either, Mrs. Deems was roused almost to anger. 
 
 "You ve got to get a surgeon, anyway," she said, 
 sharply, to Ralston. "If you don t, they ll have a 
 bad time when it comes to setting her arm. Mr. 
 Lauderdale I can manage, perhaps, till the doctor 
 comes, but I m no bone-setter." 
 
 Ralston left the room, took the carriage, and 
 went himself in search of a surgeon, and returned 
 with one in less than a quarter of an hour. A few 
 minutes later Doctor Routh appeared, and last of 
 all came young Doctor Cheever. Then everything 
 was done quickly and well. The three practition 
 ers understood one another without words, and the 
 machinery of the great house of the old million 
 aire did their bidding. 
 
 But Doctor Routh shook his head when he was 
 alone with John Ralston half an hour later. 
 
 "I don t like the look of things," he said. "Of 
 course, there s no telling about you Lauderdales. 
 You re pretty strong people all round. I don t 
 want any confidences. I don t want to know 
 what s happened. I can see the results, and 
 they re enough for me. You re a quarrelsome set, 
 but you d better have managed to fight somewhere 
 else. I m afraid you ve killed him this time. 
 However there s no telling." 
 
 "How about Miss Lauderdale?" asked John, 
 anxiously. "How long will she be laid up?" 
 
276 THE EALSTONS. 
 
 " Oh three or four weeks. But they must 
 keep her quiet for a day or two, until the inflam 
 mation goes down. When the bone s begun to 
 heal and the arm s immobilized, she can be about. 
 It s no use your staying here. You can t see 
 either of them. But if I were you I don t say 
 anything positive, I m only giving you a hint 
 if I were you, I d be at home this evening. If 
 things get worse, I ll send for you." 
 
 " Are you going to stay yourself? " asked Rals 
 ton. 
 
 "Of course. Practically, as far as one can 
 judge, your uncle s dying. You may just as well 
 be here as any one else. He s very fond of you, 
 in spite of your little tiff last winter. You re the 
 only man in the family he d like to see, and you 
 won t be in the way." 
 
 It was his manner of putting it. At any other 
 time Ralston would have smiled at the idea of 
 being i in the way of death. 
 
 "I suppose there s really no hope," he answered, 
 gravely. "But the only person he d really wish 
 to have with him is Miss Lauderdale." 
 
 "Well that s impossible, my dear boy. She 
 can t be running about the house in the middle of 
 the night with her arm just broken. It might be 
 dangerous." 
 
 " You d better not let her know if anything hap 
 pens, then or she will." 
 
THE RAL8TONS. 277 
 
 John Kalston left the house very reluctantly at 
 last, and returned to his home, feeling broken and 
 helpless, as people who have nervous organizations 
 do feel when they have been under great emotion 
 and are left in anxiety. Naturally enough, Kath 
 arine s present condition was uppermost in his 
 mind, and every step which took him further from 
 her was an added pain. But a multitude of other 
 considerations thrust themselves upon him at the 
 same time, and he asked himself what was to 
 happen on the morrow. 
 
 He had made up his mind, before Alexander 
 Junior had left the house, that it was absolutely 
 necessary to put an end to the present situation at 
 once, and to declare his marriage without delay. 
 He had never wished it to be kept a secret, and he 
 had now the best of reasons for insisting that it 
 should be made public. He might have been will 
 ing to believe that Katharine s fall had been an 
 accident, and that her father had not meant to hurt 
 her, but the fact remained that the accident had 
 occurred through his brutal roughness, with the 
 result that John had struck the elder man in the 
 face. It was not safe for Katharine to stay any 
 longer in her father s house. 
 
 On the other hand, it seemed clear that Robert 
 Lauderdale was near his end. It was hardly to be 
 hoped that he could survive the strain of his late 
 fit of passion, weakened as he was and old. Even 
 
278 THE EALSTONS. 
 
 Doctor Routh thought it improbable. What would 
 happen if he died that night? If Katharine had 
 to be moved, she could scarcely stay in the house 
 after the old man was dead, to whose house 
 should she go? John swore, inwardly, that she 
 should not return to her father s. And he 
 thought, too, of his next meeting with the latter. 
 Society would be amazed and horrified to hear that 
 they had actually come to blows. Society, espe 
 cially in our country, detests the idea of personal 
 violence. Its verdict is against any use of such 
 means to settle difficulties. Society, therefore, 
 must be kept in ignorance of what had happened. 
 No one had seen the blow, not even Katharine, 
 who had just fallen to the floor. She alone had 
 seen John and her father struggling, for they had 
 loosed their hold on seeing that she was hurt, 
 and the servants had found them bending over 
 her. Consequently, a great part of what had hap 
 pened would be kept secret. Robert Lauderdale 
 would not speak of it, and Mrs. Deems was bound 
 to secrecy by her profession. John wondered how 
 Alexander Junior would meet him, however, and 
 whether there was to be any renewal of hostilities. 
 Altogether, when he let himself into his own 
 house, he was in need of counsel and advice. 
 There was no one but his mother to whom he cared 
 to appeal for either. She had known all along of 
 his devotion to Katharine Lauderdale, though she 
 
THE RALSTON8. 279 
 
 knew nothing of the secret marriage. She knew 
 how hard Katharine s life was made in the girl s 
 own home, by her father s determined opposition 
 to the match, and John had told her something of 
 other matters how old Robert had confided to 
 Katharine what he meant to do with his money, 
 and how her father had tried to force her to betray 
 the confidence. Ralston was puzzled, too, by 
 Alexander Junior s evident willingness to quarrel 
 with his uncle, or at least by his determination 
 to make no concessions whatever to him, and won 
 dered whether his mother could not suggest some 
 explanation. 
 
 Mrs. Ralston was, in some ways, very like her 
 son, and the two understood one another perfectly. 
 It would, perhaps, be more accurate to say that she 
 had made him like herself, not intentionally, but 
 by force of example, a result very unusual in the 
 relations between mother and son. She was by no 
 means a manlike woman, but she possessed many 
 of the qualities which make the best men. She 
 was fearless and truthful, and she was more than 
 that she had a man s sense of honour from a 
 man s point of view, and admitted to herself that 
 honour was the only religion in which she could 
 believe. Like Katharine, she, the elder Katharine 
 Lauderdale, had been brought up amidst contradic 
 tory influences, and had then married the Admiral, 
 a brave officer, a man of considerable scientific 
 
280 THE EALSTONS. 
 
 attainments, and a determined agnostic, of the 
 school of thirty years ago, when many people be 
 lieved that science was to bring about a sort of 
 millennium within the next few years. In that 
 direction she went further than her son. Her 
 sense of fairness had shown her how unfair it would 
 be to make an unbeliever of him before he was old 
 enough to judge for himself, and in this idea she 
 had made him go to church like other boys, and 
 had persuaded his father not to talk atheism before 
 him. The result had been to produce, more or 
 less, the state of mind typical in these last years 
 of the century, amongst a certain class of people 
 who are collectively described as cultured, though 
 they cannot always be spoken of individually as 
 cultivated. John felt that he believed in some 
 thing, but he had not the slightest idea what that 
 something might be, and did not take the small 
 est trouble to find out. In this respect he differed 
 from Katharine. Under very similar conditions, 
 the young girl vacillated between a set of unde- 
 finable but much discussed beliefs, which included 
 pseudo-Buddhism, Psychological Research, the 
 wreck of what was for a few years Theosophy, and 
 the latest discoveries in hypnotism, taken alto 
 gether and kneaded into an amorphous mass, on 
 the one hand, while, on the other, she was at 
 tracted by the rigid forms of actual Christianity, 
 widely opposed, but nearest in whole-heartedness, 
 
THE R ALSTONS. 281 
 
 which are found in the Presbyterian and the 
 Roman Catholic churches. But John s mother was 
 a peaceable agnostic, who had transferred the ques 
 tions of right, wrong, and ultimate good before 
 the tribunal of honour which held perpetual session 
 in her heart. 
 
 She never discussed such points if she could 
 avoid doing so, and if drawn into discussion against 
 her will, she said frankly that she wished she might 
 believe, but could not. In dealing with the world, 
 her strength of character, her directness and her 
 humanity stood her in good stead. In her heart s 
 dealings with itself, she thought of Musset s fam 
 ous lines If Heaven be void, then we offend IK/ 
 God. But if God is, let God be pitiful! 7 And 
 she offended no one, nor desired to offend any. 
 She had in life the advantage, the only one, per 
 haps, which the agnostic has over the believer 
 the safety of her own soul was not in the balance 
 when the humanity of others appealed to her own. 
 He who believes that he has a soul to save can be 
 unselfish only with his bodily safety. 
 
 Mrs. Kalston was eminently a woman of the 
 world in the best sense of an expression which 
 many think can mean no good. She had never 
 been beautiful and had never been vain, but she 
 had much which attracts as beauty does, and holds 
 as no beauty can. Of the Lauderdales now living, 
 she was undeniably the most gifted. Katharine 
 
282 THE EALSTONS. 
 
 might have rivalled her, had she developed under 
 more favourable circumstances. But with the 
 education she had received, good as it had been 
 of its kind, it was not probable that the young girl 
 would grow up into such a woman. 
 
 Yet Mrs. Ralston had no accomplishments, in 
 the ordinary sense of the word. Her husband used 
 to say that this was one of her chief attractions in 
 his eyes he hated women who played the piano, 
 and sang little songs, and made little sketches, for 
 the small price paid by cheap social admiration, 
 and greedily accepted by the performer of such 
 tricks. There were people who did such things 
 well, and whose business it was to do them. Why 
 should any one do them badly? Mrs. Ralston 
 never attempted anything of the sort. 
 
 On the other hand, she was well acquainted with 
 a number of modern languages, and knew enough 
 of the classics not to talk about reading Horace 
 in the original Greek, which is as much knowl 
 edge in that direction, perhaps, as a woman needs, 
 and as most men have occasion to use in daily life. 
 She had read very widely, and her criticism, if not 
 that of pure reason, was that of a clear judgment. 
 She had found out early what most people never 
 learn at all, that she could widen her experience of 
 life vicariously by assimilating that of other peo 
 ple, in fact and even in fiction. Good fiction is 
 very like reality. Bad fiction is generally made 
 
THE EALSTONS. 283 
 
 up of fragments of reality unskilfully patched 
 together. She picked out truths wherever she 
 found them, and set them in their places in the 
 body of all truth. 
 
 She was, in a way, the least American of all the 
 Lauderdales. She herself would have said, on 
 the contrary, from her own point of view, that she 
 was the most really American in the tribe. She 
 loved the country, she especially loved New York, 
 and she loved her own people better than any other 
 with which she was acquainted. This strong 
 attachment to everything American was in itself 
 contrary to the ideas of most persons with whom 
 she was brought into close relations. What calls 
 itself society, pre-eminently, and numbers itself by 
 hundreds, and shuts itself off as much as possible, 
 requiring those who would be counted with it to 
 pass a special examination in the subjects about 
 which it happens to be mad at the time Society 
 with a capital letter, in fact, is tired of work, it 
 associates home with hard labour and a bad climate, 
 and Europe with fine weather, idleness, and amuse 
 ment. i They manage those things better in 
 France, expresses New York society s opinion of 
 things in general apart from business. Mrs. Rals 
 ton differed from Society, and thought that many 
 things were managed quite as well in America. 
 
 "That s because you ve been abroad so much, 
 my dear," said her friends. "Wait till you ve 
 
284 THE EALSTONS. 
 
 lived ten years at a stretch in Xew York. You ll 
 think just as we do. You won t like it half so 
 much. And besides think of clothes and things ! " 
 Now Mrs. Ralston did think of clothes and 
 things. 7 She had never been beautiful, but she 
 had in a high degree the strength and grace dis 
 tinctive in many of the Lauderdales. She was 
 tall, long-limbed, slight as a girl, at rive and forty 
 years of age, less strong than Katharine, perhaps, 
 though that might be doubted, and certainly lighter 
 and much thinner. She, too, was dark a keen, 
 strong face, like her son s, with the same bright 
 brown eyes, and the same fine hair, though not 
 nearly so black, but her face was kindlier than his, 
 and far less sad. She had possessed the power 
 of enjoying things for their own sake as long 
 as Mrs. Lauderdale, Katharine s mother, who had 
 kept her faculty of enjoying the world subjec 
 tively, with little interest in it for itself, but 
 with the intensely strong attachment of easily 
 satisfied personal vanity. The difference was, that 
 the one form of enjoyment was doomed to destruc 
 tion with the beauty which was its source, while 
 the other increased with the ever broadening and 
 deepening humanity in which it found its domi 
 nant interest. If Mrs. Lauderdale had been shut 
 off from the gay side of social existence for a 
 time, as Mrs. Ralston had been in the first years 
 of her widowhood, she would have become sour and 
 
THE E ALSTONS. 285 
 
 discontented. Mrs. Ralston had seen where the 
 real bitterness of life lay, and the bitterness had 
 appealed to her heart almost as much as ever the 
 sweetness had. She had suffered in some ways 
 much, but not long; she had been disappointed 
 more than once, but had been repaid. 
 
 Above all, she was her son s friend. She had 
 lived a woman s life, and in him she was living 
 a man s life, too. She had felt a mother s fears 
 for him, a mother s sympathy in his failures, in 
 his downheartedness, in the love for Katharine 
 which had met with such bitter opposition. She 
 had almost known a mother s despair in believing 
 him lost and truly worthless, and when she had 
 found out her mistake, a mother s triumph had 
 made her heart beat fast. And little by little 
 through the last months she had seen the man s 
 real character coming to the surface in its strength 
 and boldness, outgrowing the boyish weakness, the 
 youthful faults that were not vices yet and never 
 would be now, and it was as though the growth 
 had been in her own /heart, giving to herself new 
 interest, new life, and new vitality. 
 
 And John Ralston had forgotten that one hour 
 in which she had doubted him, though at the time 
 he had found it hard to say that he ever should. 
 She was his best friend and was becoming his 
 closest companion. Even Katharine could not 
 understand him so well, for she knew too little 
 
286 THE RALSTONS. 
 
 of the world yet. She had given him her heart, 
 and her sympathy was all his, but neither the one 
 nor the other was yet quite grown. 
 
 John and his mother dined alone together that 
 evening, and afterwards went upstairs and sat in 
 a room which was called John s study, by courtesy, 
 as it had been called the Admiral s study when his 
 father was alive. It was a quiet, manlike room, 
 with a small bookcase and a large gun-rack, huge 
 chairs covered with brown leather, an unnecessarily 
 large writing-table, a certain number of trophies 
 of the chase, a well-worn carpet and curtains that 
 smelled of cigars. Mrs. Ralston had been accus 
 tomed all her life to the smell of tobacco, and 
 rather liked it than otherwise. She settled her 
 graceful figure comfortably in one of the chairs, 
 and Ralston sat down opposite to her in another 
 and began to smoke. 
 
 "There s been a row, mother," he began. "I 
 couldn t tell you before the servants, but I m going 
 to tell you all about it now. I want your advice 
 and your help all sorts of things of you. I m 
 rather worried." 
 
 " Do you think I couldn t see that in your face, 
 Jack?" asked Mrs. Ralston, smiling as she met 
 his eyes. "There s a certain line in your forehead 
 that always comes when there s trouble. What is 
 it, boy?" 
 
 John told his story briefly and accurately, with- 
 
THE RALSTONS. 287 
 
 out superfluous comment, and as much of what had 
 happened in Katharine s life as she had confided 
 to him. He made it clear enough that she was 
 being tormented to give up Robert Lauderdale s 
 secret, and if he dwelt unduly upon any point, it 
 was upon this. Mrs. Ralston listened attentively. 
 When he came to the scene which had taken place 
 on that afternoon, she leaned forward in her chair, 
 breathless with interest. 
 
 " Oh, Jack ! " she cried. " You always seem to 
 be fighting somebody ! " 
 
 "Yes but wasn t I right, mother?" he asked, 
 quickly. "What could I do? He acted like a 
 madman, and he dragged Katharine from me and 
 whirled her off upon the floor as though he d been 
 handling a man in a free fight. I couldn t stand 
 that." 
 
 "No of course you couldn t," answered Mrs. 
 Ralston. "I don t see what you could have done 
 but hit him, I m sure. And yet it s a shocking 
 affair it is, really. I m afraid it s cost uncle 
 Robert his life, poor, dear old man! " 
 
 "Poor man!" echoed Ralston, thoughtfully. 
 " Routh didn t seem to think he could live through 
 the night. We may get word at any moment." 
 
 "The wonder is that he didn t die then and 
 there. And there s no one with him, either 
 Katharine laid up in her room why didn t you 
 stay in the house, Jack? " 
 
288 THE RALSTONS. 
 
 "Routh wouldn t let me. He s there. He told 
 me I should only be in the way and that he d 
 send for me, if anything happened. It s an odd 
 thing, mother but there s no one to go to uncle 
 Robert but you and I and cousin Emma. He d 
 have a fit if he saw cousin Alexander. And of 
 course the old gentleman can t go." He meant 
 Robert s brother. 
 
 "No of course not." 
 
 A short silence followed, and Mrs. Ralston 
 seemed to be thinking over the situation. 
 
 "Well, Jack," she said, at last, "what are we 
 going to do? This state of things can t go on." 
 
 "No. It can t. It shan t. And I won t let it. 
 Mother you know we. talked last winter you 
 said that if ever I wanted to marry Katharine 
 wanted to ! Well that we could manage to live 
 here " 
 
 It would be hard to give any adequate idea of 
 the reluctance with which John approached the sub 
 ject. Short of the consideration of Katharine s per 
 sonal safety, which he believed to be endangered by 
 the life she was made to lead, nothing could have 
 induced him to think of laying the burden of his 
 married life upon his mother s comparatively 
 slender fortune. Although half of it was his, for 
 she had made it over to him by a deed during the 
 previous winter, out of a conviction that he should 
 feel himself to be independent, yet he had never 
 
THE EALSTONS. 289 
 
 quite accepted the position, and still regarded all 
 there was as being, morally speaking, her property. 
 But now she met him more than half way. 
 
 "Jack," she said, almost authoritatively, "if 
 Katharine will marry you, marry her to-morrow 
 and bring her here." 
 
 "Thank you, mother," he answered, and was 
 silent for a moment. 
 
 "We can live perfectly well just as well as 
 we do now. One person more what difference 
 does it make?" 
 
 "It would make a difference more than you 
 think," answered John. "But there s another 
 thing about it, mother there s a secret I ve kept 
 from you for a long time. I must tell you now. 
 You must be the first to know it. But I want to 
 ask you first not to judge what I ve done until 
 I ve told you all about it." 
 
 "Is it anything bad, Jack?" asked Mrs- 1 . Ualston, 
 with quick anxiety, bending far forward in her 
 chair, while all her expression changed. 
 
 "No, mother don t be frightened. It s this. 
 Katharine and I were married last winter." 
 
 " Married ! " cried Mrs. Ralston, in amazement. 
 "Married!" she repeated in a tone which showed 
 that she was deeply hurt. "And you did not 
 tell me!" 
 
 She said nothing more for a few moments, and 
 John was silent, too, giving her time to recover 
 
 VOL. I. 19 
 
290 THE RALSTONS. 
 
 from her astonishment. She was the first to 
 
 "Either Katharine made you marry her, or you 
 must have had some very good reason for doing 
 such a thing, Jack," she said. "It s not like you 
 to get married secretly. When was it?" 
 
 "It was on that day when I was so unlucky. 
 When I lost my way, and everybody thought I d 
 been drinking." 
 
 " Jack ! Do you mean to say that you had that 
 on your mind, too? Oh, Jack dear, why didn t 
 you tell me?" 
 
 "In the first place, I d said I wouldn t. The 
 reasons seemed good then. They haven t seemed 
 so good since. I ll tell you the idea in two words. 
 We were to be privately married. Then we were 
 to confide in uncle Robert, expecting that he would 
 find me something to do, that I could do what 
 ever he proposed well enough to earn a living 
 without accepting money as a gift. There was 
 where the disappointment came. I found out 
 afterwards how true what he said was. Every 
 body s on the lookout for a congenial occupa 
 tion that means living out of doors and enjoying 
 oneself. He said there was nothing to be done 
 but to go back to Beman s and work at a desk 
 for a year. Then he d push me on. He tried to 
 make me take a lot of money, but I wouldn t. I m 
 glad of that, anyhow. So we ve never said any- 
 
THE RALSTONS. 291 
 
 thing about it, except to him. But now something 
 must be done." 
 
 " But you could have brought her here any time 
 in these four months at least, you might have 
 told me and I would have helped you." 
 
 " I know but then, it would have been a burden 
 on you, as it s going to be now." . 
 
 "A burden! Don t say such things." 
 
 " Only that now well I don t like to say it, 
 but dear old uncle Robert isn t going to live long, 
 and then you ll be rich, compared to what you are 
 now, even if he only leaves you what he d think a 
 small legacy." 
 
 "Yes that s true," answered Mrs. Ralston, 
 thoughtfully. "Isn t life strange, Jack?" she 
 continued, after a short pause. " We re both very 
 fond of him. We shall miss him very much more 
 than we realize. I think either you or I would 
 do anything we could, and risk anything, to save 
 his life and yet we can t help counting on the 
 money he s sure to leave us when he dies. I 
 suppose most people would call it heartless to 
 speak about it, though they d think about it from 
 morning till night. But I don t think we re 
 heartless, do you? " 
 
 "No," answered John, "I don t. Not that it 
 would be a crime if we were. People are born 
 so, or they aren t. We can t all be rough plastered 
 with goodness and stuccoed with virtue on top of 
 
292 THE E ALSTONS. 
 
 it. We re natural, that s all and the majority 
 of people aren t. I don t wish uncle Robert to 
 die, any more than you do, or than any one does, 
 except cousin Alexander. It s only reasonable for 
 us who are young to think of what we may do 
 when he s gone, since he s so old." 
 
 "Yes, I suppose so," assented Mrs. Ralston. 
 "So you ve been married all these months! It 
 hurts me a little to think that you shouldn t have 
 told me. I d have helped you. I m sure I could 
 have made it easier. But I see you were afraid 
 that I should have to go without my toilet water 
 and have to wear ready made gloves, or some such 
 ridiculous thing as that! Married! Well I m 
 not exactly sentimental, but I d rather looked for 
 ward to your wedding with Katharine. I always 
 knew you d marry her in the end, and I liked to 
 think of it. I m glad, though I m glad it s done 
 and can t be undone, in spite of her father. Tell 
 me all about it, since you ve told me everything 
 else." 
 
 It was not a long story how Katharine had 
 persuaded him, much against his will, how lie had 
 found a clergyman willing to perform the cere 
 mony, and how Katharine and he had gone to the 
 church early in the morning. 
 
 "And now she is Katharine Ralston, too, like 
 me and I ve got a daughter-in-law!" Mrs. 
 Ralston smiled dreamily. 
 
THE RALSTONS. 293 
 
 After the first moment of surprise and after the 
 first sharp pain she had felt for her son s want of 
 confidence in her, as she regarded his secrecy, the 
 news did not seem to disturb her much. For years 
 she had been convinced that Katharine was destined 
 to be her son s wife, and for many months she had 
 felt sure that, with his nature, his happiness and 
 success in life depended entirely upon his marrying 
 her. She was heartily glad that it had come, 
 though, as she said, she had often looked forward 
 to the wedding as to something very bright in 
 her own existence. 
 
 "Jack," she said, "leave it to me to set matters 
 straight with the rest of the family, will you?" 
 
 "Why mother if you think you can of 
 course," answered Ralston, with some hesitation. 
 "The difficulty will be with cousin Alexander. 
 We re enemies for life, now." 
 
 "Yes. Until to-day you were only enemies by 
 circumstance. You ll never be reconciled, now 
 not completely. You could never spend a night 
 under his roof after what has happened, could you? 
 Of course you can say to him that you acted under 
 the impression that he was Avell what shall I 
 say? that he was treating Katharine brutally, 
 but that if he wasn t, you apologize for striking 
 him. But after all, that s only quibbling with 
 honour. It wouldn t satisfy him and wouldn t be 
 very dignified for you, it seems to me. And he s 
 
294 THE R ALSTONS. 
 
 not the man who would ever put out his hand and 
 forgive you frankly and say that by-gones should 
 be by-gones." 
 
 " Scarcely ! " assented Ralston. " Not at all that 
 kind of man. By the bye, mother, forgive me 
 for going off to something else, what do you 
 think is the reason why he seems so ready to 
 offend uncle Robert, instead of bowing down to 
 him, as they all do? He wants the money more 
 than any one. He can t suppose that if uncle 
 Robert were to make a new will now, after what 
 has happened, he d leave him anything. You 
 should have heard the old gentleman swear at him, 
 and turn him out of the house ! " 
 
 "I don t know," answered Mrs. Ralston, 
 thoughtfully, "unless he wants to irritate uncle 
 Robert, and drive him into making some extraor 
 dinary will that wouldn t hold. Then he d get it 
 broken. You see, Jack, my uncle Alexander, 
 who s uncle Robert s own brother, and I, who am 
 the only child of uncle Robert s other brother, are 
 the next of kin. If there were no will, or if the 
 will were broken, we two should get the whole 
 fortune, equally divided, half and half, and none 
 of the rest would get anything. Mr. Brett told me 
 that a long time ago. As it is, we don t know how 
 the money s left, though uncle Robert has often 
 told me that T should have a big share." 
 
 "Katharine knows," said John. "That s the 
 reason her father leaves her no peace." 
 
THE EALSTONS. 295 
 
 "And she s not told you, Jack?" 
 
 "Mother! Do you suppose Katharine would be 
 tray a confidence like that? You don t know her! " 
 
 "No, dear. I didn t seriously think she would. 
 But then she s your wife, Jack. She might tell 
 you what she wouldn t tell any one else, and yet 
 not think that she were giving away a secret. Most 
 women would, I think." 
 
 "Katharine s not like most women," said Rals 
 ton, gravely. 
 
 A silence followed, during which his mother 
 watched his face, and her own grew beautiful with 
 mother s pride in man, and woman s gladness for 
 woman s dignity. 
 
 When Ralston and his mother separated, they 
 had come to a clear understanding about the future. 
 They had decided to say nothing about the mar 
 riage until Katharine had recovered sufficiently to 
 leave Robert Lauderdale s home, and then to estab 
 lish her in their house, and tell the world that 
 there had been a private wedding. If the old gen 
 tleman died, and they were obliged to take this 
 probability into consideration, Katharine would 
 have to be brought at once. If anything, this 
 would make matters simpler. The household 
 would be in mourning, Katharine would be unable 
 to go out or to appear at all for some time, and 
 society would easily believe that during the two or 
 three weeks which must pass in this way, the mar 
 riage might have taken place. 
 
CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 No one slept much during the early part of the 
 night in the millionaire s home. Katharine lay 
 long awake, prevented from sleeping partly by the 
 painful numbness in her bandaged arm, and partly 
 by the ever recurring picture of the day s doings 
 which came back to her unceasingly in the still 
 ness. Just as the picture was growing shadowy 
 and dreamlike, some slight sound would break it 
 and recall her to herself, a distant foot-fall on 
 the stairs, the opening and shutting of a door near 
 her own, or even the occasional roll of a belated 
 carriage in the street. 
 
 There was a soft light in the sick man s room. 
 The white walls and hangings took up and distrib 
 uted the whiteness, so that even the remotest cor 
 ners were not dark. Robert Lauderdale lay in his 
 bed, breathing softly, his eyes not quite closed, and 
 his bony hands lying like knotty twigs upon the 
 white Shetland wool that covered his body. For 
 they were like wood or stone, yellowish in colour, 
 rough in shape, and yet oddly polished by time, 
 as some old men s hands are. His snowy beard 
 and hair, too, were almost sandy again, as they 
 296 
 
THE RALSTONS. 297 
 
 had been in youth, by contrast with the delicate 
 linen and the snow-white, sheeny material that was 
 everywhere. 
 
 He was not sleeping with his eyes open, as dying 
 persons sometimes sleep a whole day. Nor was 
 his mind wandering. Doctor Routh could see that 
 well enough, as he sat there hour after hour, 
 watching his old friend. The doctor wished that 
 he might really fall asleep, and let his weary old 
 heart gather strength to live a little longer. But 
 even Routh was giving up hope. The machine 
 was running down, and the game was played out. 
 There was not one chance in a hundred that Robert 
 Lauderdale could live another twelve hours. From 
 time to time the doctor gave him a little stimu 
 lant, but the failing heart reacted less and less. 
 
 Between three and four o clock in the morning, 
 the old man turned his head slowly on the pillow, 
 and his sunken eyes met Routh s in a long look 
 the look which those who have watched by the 
 dying know very well. 
 
 "Routh," said the hoarse voice, with solemn 
 slowness, "I m going to give up the ghost." 
 
 Still for a few seconds the deep, mysterious, 
 wondering look continued in the hollow eyes. 
 Then he turned his head slowly back to the origi 
 nal position. The words struck the doctor as singu 
 lar. He did not remember that he had ever heard 
 a patient use just that phrase, though so many 
 
298 THE EALSTONS. 
 
 persons when near the point of death give warn 
 ing of their end in some such expression. 
 
 "You re not going yet," the doctor answered, 
 mechanically, and he held a glass to the old man s 
 lips. 
 
 "I don t want any false hope. I know it s 
 coming," answered the dying man, speaking 
 against the rim of the little tumbler. 
 
 Routh stood up to his vast height, and then his 
 nervous, emaciated frame bent like a birch sapling 
 in a gale as he leaned over the bed, and listened to 
 the fluttering beats of the heart that had almost 
 done its work. 
 
 "Shall I call anybody?" he asked. "Is there 
 anything you want done? " 
 
 "How long do you think it will be?" asked 
 Robert Lauderdale, trying to speak more rapidly. 
 
 "Half an hour, perhaps," answered Routh. 
 
 In their voices there was that indescribable tone 
 with which the words of brave men are uttered in 
 the face of death. No one who has ever heard it 
 can forget it. 
 
 "I d like to say good-bye to Katharine." He 
 paused and drew breath heavily. "Will it hurt 
 her? " he asked, presently. 
 
 "No," answered the doctor, seeing the look of 
 anxiety which accompanied the question. 
 
 A broken arm seemed a very slight matter to 
 Routh, compared with the wish of his old friend. 
 
THE RALSTONS. 299 
 
 He did not hesitate, but touched the bell for Mrs. 
 Deems, who appeared at the door. 
 
 "He wishes to see Miss Lauderdale," he whis 
 pered. "You must help her to wrap herself up, 
 and bring her here." 
 
 Mrs. Deems nodded, and looked at the doctor 
 with the grave glance of enquiry which means the 
 one question, Life or death? 7 And Routh an 
 swered with the other glance, which means 
 Death. Mrs. Deems nodded again, and left the 
 room. Routh returned to the bedside. 
 
 "When she comes leave us alone please," 
 said the sick man. 
 
 There was silence again for a few minutes. 
 Again the lids were half closed, and the old eyes 
 stared out beneath them into the soft whiteness, 
 and perhaps beyond. But the beard moved a little 
 from time to time, as though the lips were fram 
 ing words, and Routh knew that the end was near. 
 
 Then Katharine came, waxen pale, her raven 
 hair coiled loosely upon her shapely head, her 
 creamy throat collarless, her left arm and hand 
 free, the rest of her wrapped and draped in soft, 
 dark things. She, too, looked up into Routh s face 
 with the glance of the question, Life or death? 
 And again the answer was, Death. 
 
 But Mrs. Deems had told her. Her eyes said 
 that she knew, and her face told that she felt. 
 Robert Lauderdale s great head turned again, 
 
300 THE EALSTONS. 
 
 slowly and painfully, towards her. She bent down 
 to him, and the doctor left the room, taking the 
 nurse with him. He did not quite close the door. 
 He could almost hear, beforehand, the low cry the 
 young girl would utter when the end came. 
 
 Katharine bent down and laid her hand softly 
 upon the old man s brow. 
 
 "Uncle dear you re not going," she said. 
 "You ll get well, after all." 
 
 "I m going to give up the ghost," he said, as he 
 had said to Doctor Kouth. 
 
 " No no " But she could not find anything 
 to say, so she smoothed his forehead. 
 
 She had never seen any one die, but she was not 
 afraid. That is a matter of temperament, and 
 neither man nor woman should be blamed who can 
 not bear to feel a soul parting and see a body left 
 behind. Katharine felt only that she would keep 
 him if she could. She knelt down and took one 
 of his hands, his left. It was cold and hard to 
 touch, with little warmth in it, like that of a 
 statue in a garden when the sun has gone down. 
 
 "I want to say good-bye," said the hoarse voice, 
 just above a whisper. 
 
 "Yes I m here," answered Katharine, and 
 there was silence again, while she gently caressed 
 the cold hand. 
 
 "Routh said half an hour." 
 
 The mysterious, dying eyes wandered a little, 
 
THE R ALSTONS. 301 
 
 and then sought the white clock on the mantel 
 piece. 
 
 "Can t see what time it is," said the rough 
 whisper. 
 
 "Twenty minutes to four," answered Katharine, 
 glancing round quickly, and then looking again at 
 his face. 
 
 "Poor child little girl ought to be in bed." 
 The words came indistinctly, and the breathing 
 grew more heavy. 
 
 Then the beard moved with unspoken words, 
 and Katharine watched, hearing nothing. She had 
 been a little confused at first, but now she recol 
 lected that she should ask if there were anything 
 she could do. She could not tell whence the recol 
 lection came. She had perhaps got it from a book 
 read long ago. He might want something. He 
 might die unsatisfied. She made anxious haste to 
 ask the question. 
 
 "Is there anything I can do? Any one else you 
 want, uncle?" she enquired, speaking close to his 
 ear. 
 
 The breathing, almost stertorous now, ceased for 
 an instant. He seemed to be trying to collect 
 strength to say something. 
 
 "Your father tell him from me bear no 
 malice " He could get no further. 
 
 " Yes yes don t think about it don t dis 
 tress yourself," said Katharine, quickly. " I ll tell 
 him." 
 
302 THE RALSTONS. 
 
 Again the heavy breathing blew the stiff white 
 hairs of his beard and moustache, as his chin, raised 
 in the effort of speaking, fell suddenly to his 
 breast again. The breath raised the coarse white 
 and sandy hairs and blew them to right and left. 
 The eyelids drooped. Katharine wondered whether 
 old men always died like that. Then the thought 
 that he was really dying put on its reality for the 
 first time, and struck her suddenly in the heart, 
 and the pain she felt struck back instantly into 
 her helpless, bandaged arm. 
 
 "Is it God?" asked the dying man, suddenly, 
 in a louder voice and quite clearly. 
 
 Again, in the effort, his chin rose and fell. 
 There was something awful in the question, asked 
 with the strength of the death struggle. Then 
 came more words, indistinct and broken. 
 
 "I shall be a little boy again." So much 
 Katharine understood of what she heard. 
 
 Her tears gathered. Some of them fell upon 
 the yellow, branch-like hand. Then she bent close 
 to his ear again. 
 
 " There is God," she said. " God will take you, 
 dear He is taking you now. Think of Him. 
 You re dying." 
 
 Her tears broke her voice, as raindrops break 
 the sighing of the breeze in summer. She wept, 
 though she would not, and her pale face was wet. 
 And his heavy breath filled her ears till it seemed 
 
THE EALSTONS. 303 
 
 to roar like a furnace the furnace of life burn 
 ing itself out, where all was still and white. 
 She said prayers that took meaning in her heart 
 and lost it as they passed her lips, meeting the 
 great doubt on the threshold of her soul. She did 
 not know what she said. It was not much, nor 
 eloquent. 
 
 " I believe God " Then a great sigh blew 
 the white hairs to right and left. 
 
 The breathing grew more slow, longer, harder, 
 a great breathing of sighs. Death had life by the 
 throat. In awe, the girl looked into the ancient 
 face, and the stream of tears trickled and ran dry. 
 Once more the voice burst out, articulate but 
 rattling. 
 
 " Domine quo vadis? " 
 
 The great head was raised, and the mysterious 
 eyes were wide, gazing at her, waiting upon the 
 answer, waiting to die. She remembered the 
 answer. 
 
 "Tenditadastra." 
 
 He heard it, and died. 
 
 Katharine had never seen death, but she knew 
 him, as we all know him. Twice, thrice, the 
 broad chest heaved under the soft, feathery woollen, 
 and the after-breath of the storm quivered in the 
 frost of his beard. But the girl knew he was 
 dead. Then came her low, trembling cry, the echo 
 of death s voice from living heartstrings. 
 
304 THE R ALSTONS. 
 
 It was not a great sorrow, though Katharine 
 had been very fond of the old man and was very 
 grateful to him, as well she might be. She was, 
 perhaps, as closely attached to him as is possible 
 in such a relationship between the very young 
 and the very old. But although her tears flowed 
 plentifully, it was not one of those deep-gripped 
 wrenches that twist the heart and leave it shape 
 less and bruised for a time or forever. Hearts, 
 too, are less often broken by those who go than by 
 those who stay with us. The young girl s grief 
 was sincere, and hurt her, but it was not profound. 
 They led her away, and when the door of her own 
 room closed behind her, the tears were already 
 drying on her cheeks. 
 
 Death brings confusion and leaves it in his path. 
 Many hours passed before there was quiet in the 
 great house, but Katharine slept, exhausted at last 
 by all she had endured that day, beyond the possi 
 bility of being kept awake by mere bodily pain. 
 Late in the morning her mother came to her bed 
 side. Katharine had been awake a quarter of an 
 hour, and had been hesitating as to whether she 
 should ring or not. Her arm hurt her, and the 
 hand that had been so white was purple against the 
 tight white bandages. She longed to tear them off 
 and have rest, if only for a moment. 
 
 "Poor uncle Robert! " said Mrs. Lauderdale, seat 
 ing herself, after kissing the young girPs forehead. 
 
THE RAL8TONS. 305 
 
 She was a little pale with natural excitement, 
 and she was certainly not looking her best in a 
 black frock which was far from new, but which 
 had to do duty until she could have mourning 
 made. Katharine said nothing in answer, but 
 nodded her head on the pillow. She wondered 
 whether her mother knew that she had broken her 
 arm. But in this she did her an injustice. 
 
 "Was your wrist much hurt?" asked Mrs. 
 Lauderdale, almost immediately. 
 
 Then she caught sight of the splints and ban 
 dages and the purple fingers, as Katharine lifted 
 the coverlet a little. Instantly her face changed. 
 
 " Heavens, child ! What have you done to your 
 self? " she cried, springing to her feet and bending 
 over to look. 
 
 "Papa broke my arm/ 5 answered Katharine, 
 quietly. 
 
 "Your father broke your arm?" Mrs. Lau 
 derdale spoke with the utmost astonishment, min 
 gled with unbelief. 
 
 "Why, yes. Didn t you know? It was last 
 night that all the confusion and trouble have 
 killed poor uncle Robert. Didn t papa tell you 
 anything?" Katharine stared at her mother. 
 
 " He came home and said he had hurt his mouth. 
 
 I could not get him to say what liad happened to 
 
 him. To tell the truth, I was rather worried. 
 
 It s so unlike him to hurt himself, or have any 
 
 VOL. i. 20 
 
306 THE RALSTONS. 
 
 accident. He said it was a ridiculous affair, and 
 that he didn t choose to be laughed at, and begged 
 me to say nothing more about it. You know how 
 he is. But he never mentioned you." 
 
 Katharine said nothing for a few moments. She 
 wondered how wise it might turn to be to tell her 
 mother all that had happened. But the instinct of 
 child to mother overcame hesitation. Her mother 
 had begun to take her part again, and the broken 
 sympathy was being restored by bits and pieces, as 
 it were. 
 
 " There was a terrible scene yesterday afternoon 
 late," said Katharine. "He came here, and 
 Jack was with me in the library. " 
 
 "Jack! Oh, Katharine! I wish you wouldn t 
 see him in this way " 
 
 "It s no use wishing, mother," answered the 
 young girl. "I made up my mind long ago. 
 Well, Jack was with me in the library, when Leek 
 came in and said that papa was here. I saw him 
 in the drawing-room, so that they shouldn t meet. 
 I forget all he said. The usual thing, about be 
 ing disobedient and undutiful. He Was awfully 
 angry because I got out yesterday morning. So I 
 just went over one or two of the things he had 
 done to hurt me. By the bye I ought to say, 
 that just before he came Jack had been telling me 
 that some one had been to Mr. Beman, and had 
 said that Jack drank, and was dissipated, and was 
 
THE EALSTONS. 307 
 
 altogether rather a good-for-nothing. And Mr. 
 Beman had seen Jack the next day, doing noth 
 ing, because he had nothing to do just then, and 
 with his head in his hand. So Mr. Beman took it 
 into his foolish old head that Jack had been drink 
 ing, and told him to go at the end of the month. 
 Now I knew it must be papa who had spoken, so I 
 accused him of it, and he admitted that it was true, 
 and began abusing Jack like a pick-pocket, at the 
 top of his lungs. Jack heard what he said, for the 
 door was open, and I don t blame him for coming 
 in. They threatened each other, and got so angry, 
 and I thought they d kill each other, so, like a silly 
 idiot as I was, I threw my arms round Jack s neck 
 as though I meant to protect him. Papa s so much 
 bigger, you know. Well, he papa, I mean 
 lost his head and got me by the arm. He s horri 
 bly strong. He got me by the right arm a little 
 above the wrist, and threw me half across the 
 room, and when I tried to help myself up " 
 
 "Do you mean to say that he threw you down? " 
 cried Mrs. Lauderdale, really horrified. 
 
 "Yes of course! With all his might, half 
 across the room, so that I rolled on the floor. 
 Well, when I tried to get up, my arm was broken, 
 and Jack was wrestling with papa. 1 couldn t 
 help screaming when I fell, and that roused the 
 house, first the servants, and then uncle Kobert, 
 in those queer white velvet clothes he wears 
 
308 THE RALSTONS. 
 
 don t you know? Jack told what had happened, 
 and uncle Robert was furious and ordered papa to 
 leave the house he swore awfully I never saw 
 him so angry. So papa went. But it was the 
 rage, I suppose, and the exertion they used up 
 all the dear old man s strength " 
 
 She stopped speaking suddenly as her thoughts 
 went back to the dead man, and her expression 
 changed. Her eyes filled very slowly with tears, 
 that would not quite brim over, but dimmed her 
 sight. When she turned her head again, she saw 
 that her mother had hidden her face in her hands 
 upon the edge of the bed. Katharine did not 
 understand. A convulsive sob shook the shapely 
 shoulders, and the golden hair trembled. 
 
 " Mother dear don t cry so ! " said Katharine, 
 putting out her left hand and touching the fair 
 head with a caress. "I know you were very 
 fond of him of course " 
 
 Mrs. Lauderdale looked up suddenly with stream 
 ing eyes and a face drawn in pain. She shook 
 her head slowly. 
 
 "It s not that, child it s not that! It s the 
 other " 
 
 " About me, dearest? " asked Katharine. " Don t 
 cry about me. I m all right. It hurts a little 
 now, but it will soon be over." 
 
 "No child you you don t understand!" 
 answered Mrs. Lauderdale, with trembling lips. 
 
THE RALSTONS. 309 
 
 A passionate burst of weeping hindered her from 
 saying more. Katharine tried to soothe her with 
 voice and hand, but it was of no use. Then 
 she just let her hand rest there, touching her 
 mother s cheek, and lay quite still, waiting till the 
 storm should pass. It lasted long, for in the midst 
 of her sorrow and indignation there was the acute 
 consciousness of the part she herself had borne in 
 all that had happened. 
 
 "It s my fault, it s all my fault!" she sobbed, 
 at last. 
 
 "No, mother why? I don t understand! Try 
 and tell me what you mean." 
 
 Little by little the sobs subsided and Mrs. Lau- 
 derdale dried her eyes. Katharine really did not 
 at all understand what was taking place. She 
 thought her mother must be hysterical. Dark 
 women rarely understand the moods of fair 
 ones. 
 
 "You don t know how dreadful it seems to me," 
 said Mrs. Lauderdale, as she grew calmer. "It 
 seems somehow awful ! There s no other word. 
 Your father treating you in such a way and 
 fighting with Jack! But it isn t only that it s 
 deeper. I ve done very wrong myself. I ve been 
 very bad much worse than you know " 
 
 "You, bad? Oh, mother! You re losing your 
 head ! Don t say such absurd things. You well, 
 you did go against Jack and me rather suddenly 
 
310 THE R ALSTONS. 
 
 last winter, and I couldn t quite forgive you at the 
 time. But it s going to be all right now." 
 
 Mrs. Lauderdale s face grew pale again. For a 
 few moments she said nothing, and once or twice 
 she bit her lip. 
 
 "I m going to tell you what it was," she said, 
 with a sudden impulse unwise, perhaps, but gen 
 erous and even noble in its way. " I envied you, 
 dear. That s why I behaved as I did." 
 
 "Envied me? Envied me?" Katharine re 
 peated the words slowly and with a wondering 
 emphasis. "Why? What for?" 
 
 Mrs. Lauderdale stared at her a moment in sur 
 prise at not being understood immediately. 
 
 "What for?" she repeated. "For your beauty 
 
 because you re young. Don t you know how 
 beautiful you are?" 
 
 Katharine stared in her turn, in genuine aston 
 ishment. The idea that her mother could envy 
 her had never crossed her mind. 
 
 " Yes but " she hesitated, and the rich young 
 blood rose slowly under her white skin. " I know 
 
 at least " she stammered, ".people sometimes 
 tell me I m good-looking, of course. But but 
 the idea of your envying me ! Why it never 
 occurred to me ! " 
 
 "It s true," said Mrs. Lauderdale, looking down 
 and pulling at the lace on the pillow, with a 
 regretful smile. 
 
THE RALSTONS. 311 
 
 "Oh, I don t believe it!" cried Katharine, sud 
 denly. "It s impossible you may have thought 
 you did, once 
 
 "No, it s true," answered Mrs. Lauderdale, and 
 the smile faded and was lost in the contrite expres 
 sion which came into her face. 
 
 She had made her confession and wished to go 
 to the end of it. She was trying to make a 
 reparation, being a good woman, and she found it 
 hard, especially as her daughter did not half 
 understand what she meant. 
 
 "I m losing my beauty, Katharine," she said, 
 and every word of the acknowledgment cut her. 
 "It s going, day by day, little by little. You 
 don t know it s as though my life-blood were 
 being drained it s worse sometimes. I d rather 
 die than grow old and faded. You see, it s all I 
 had. I know now how much I ve cared for it 
 now that it s so hopeless to try and get it back. 
 And one evening last winter Crowdie was there 
 he kept looking at you while I was talking to 
 him, and then I caught sight of my face in the 
 little glass that hangs from the mantel-shelf. I 
 shan t forget how I looked. I knew then." 
 
 Her face grew suddenly weary and half -desperate 
 now, as she told the little story of the hardest 
 moment in her life. Katharine listened in won 
 dering silence, knowing that she was learning one 
 of the secrets of the human heart. Mrs. Lauder- 
 
312 THE R ALSTONS. 
 
 dale paused a moment, and shivered a little, per 
 haps with the last after-sob of her convulsive 
 weeping. 
 
 "Yes I knew then," she continued, in a low 
 voice and still looking down. " I knew how much 
 it had all meant. And I began to hate you. 
 Don t be horrified, child. I loved you just as much, 
 but I hated you, too. How funny that sounds! 
 But I can t say it any other way. It wasn t you I 
 hated at least it wasn t the same you that I loved. 
 It was your face, and your freshness, and your 
 youth and that walk of yours. I wanted you to 
 be all covered up, so that no one could see you 
 then I should have loved you just as much and 
 in just the same way as ever. Do you under 
 stand? I want you to understand. You must, 
 or I shall never be a happy woman again. What 
 I suffered! So I made you suffer, too. Do you 
 know what I thought? You must know everything 
 now. I thought that if I could separate you and 
 Jack and make you marry some one else since 
 you couldn t marry him why, then you d have 
 been away somewhere else, and I could feel again 
 that I was quite beautiful. Only for a month 
 one month ! If I could only have that feeling of 
 being perfectly beautiful again just for one 
 month." 
 
 She bowed her head again and hid her face in 
 the pillow, for she was blushing with shame the 
 
THE EALSTONS. 313 
 
 good red shame that honest blood brings from a 
 sinful heart. The sight of the blush pained Katha 
 rine far more than the thought of what caused it. 
 
 "Mother dear " she stroked the golden hair 
 "it s all over now. What does it matter? You 
 don t hate me now ! " 
 
 "Hate you! Ah, Katharine I never hated 
 you without loving you just as much. I never 
 said those hateful things but what the loving ones 
 fought them and came out when I was all alone. 
 The moment you were gone, it was all different. 
 The moment I didn t have to look at you and 
 think of myself, and the little wrinkles. Oh, the 
 vile, horrid little wrinkles what they ve cost 
 me ! And what they ve made me do ! And they re 
 growing deeper to punish me pity me, dear, 
 if you can t forgive me " 
 
 "Ah don t talk like that! I never guessed it, 
 and now why, I shall never think of it again. 
 Unless I have a daughter some day and then I 
 daresay I shall feel just as you ve felt. It seems 
 so natural, somehow now that you ve explained 
 it." 
 
 "Does it? Does it seem natural to you? Are 
 you sure you understand ? " Mrs . Lauderdale looked 
 up anxiously. 
 
 " Of course I understand ! " answered Katharine, 
 reassuring her. "You ve always been the most 
 beautiful woman everywhere, and just for a little 
 
 
314 THE RALSTONS. 
 
 while you thought you weren t, because you were 
 tired and not looking well. You remember how 
 tired you used to be last winter, mother, when you 
 were working so hard and then dancing every night, 
 into the bargain. It was no wonder! But you 
 are, you know you re quite the most beautiful 
 creature I ever saw, and you always will be." 
 
 Yet Katharine in her heart, though she was 
 comforting her mother and really helping her with 
 every word she said, was by no means sure that 
 she quite understood it all. At least, it was very 
 strange to her, being altogether foreign to her own 
 nature. With all his faults, her father had scarcely 
 a trace of personal vanity, and she had inherited 
 much of her character from him. The absence of 
 avarice, as a mainspring which directed his life, 
 and the presence of a certain delicacy of human 
 feeling, together with a good share of her mother s 
 wit, were the chief causes of the wide difference 
 between her and Alexander. It was hard for one 
 so very proud and so little vain to understand 
 how, in her mother, vanity could so easily have 
 driven pride out. Yet she did her best to imagine 
 herself in a like position, and was quite willing to 
 believe that she might have acted in the same 
 way. 
 
 "Thank you, dear child," said Mrs. Lauderdale, 
 simply. " I don t know why I ve told you all this 
 just this morning. I ve been trying to for a long 
 
THE RALSTONS. 315 
 
 time. But I hadn t the courage, I suppose. And 
 now somehow we re more alone in the world 
 than we were, since the dear old uncle has gone 
 and we shall be more to each other. I feel it. 
 I don t know whether you do." 
 
 " Yes I do." And Katharine s thoughts again 
 went back to that strange death-scene in the night, 
 in the white room with the soft, warm light. " We 
 shall miss him more, by and by. He was a very 
 live man. Do you know what I mean? Whatever 
 one did, one always felt that he was there. It 
 wasn t because he was so rich though, of course, 
 we all have had the sensation of a great power 
 behind us a sort of overwhelming reserve against 
 fate, don t you know? But it really wasn t that. 
 He was such a man! Do you know? I can t 
 fancy that uncle Robert ever did a bad thing in 
 his life. I don t mean starchy, stodgy goodness. 
 He swore at papa most tremendously yesterday 
 only yesterday just think!" She paused a mo 
 ment sadly. "No," she continued, "I don t mean 
 that. He always seemed to go straight when every 
 one else went crooked straight to the end, as 
 well as he could. Oh, mother I saw him die, 
 you know ! I didn t know death was like that ! " 
 
 "It must have been dreadful for you, poor 
 child " 
 
 "Dreadful? No it was strange a sort of 
 awe. He looked so grand, lying there amidst the 
 
316 THE EALSTONS. 
 
 white velvet! I see it now, but I didn t think of 
 it then the picture comes back " 
 
 "Yes I ve seen him," said Mrs. Lauderdale, 
 softly. "His face is beautiful now." 
 
 "It wasn t beautiful then it was something 
 else I don t know. I felt that the greatest 
 thing in the world was happening the great 
 thing that happens to us all some day. I didn t 
 feel that he was dying exactly nor that I should 
 never hear him speak again after those last words." 
 
 "What did he say?" asked Mrs. Lauderdale. 
 "No," she added, contradicting herself quickly. 
 "If it s anything like a secret, I don t want to 
 know." 
 
 " It wasn t. He looked at me very strangely, and 
 then he said, quite loud, Domine quo vadis? 
 
 "Lord, whither goest Thou," said Mrs. Lauder 
 dale, translating the familiar words to herself. 
 " Did you say anything? " 
 
 "I answered, Tendit ad astra. We had both 
 said the same things once before, some time ago. 
 He heard me, and then he died that was all." 
 
 At this point some one knocked at the door. 
 Mrs. Lauderdale rose and went to see who was 
 there. Leek, the butler, clad in deep mourning 
 already, stood outside. There was a puzzled look 
 in his face. 
 
 "If you please, Mrs. Lauderdale, I don t know 
 what to do, and I d wish for your orders " 
 
THE E ALSTONS. 317 
 
 "Yes what is it?" 
 
 " There s Mr. Crowdie downstairs, madam, want 
 ing the picture of Miss Lauderdale that he brought 
 yesterday for poor Mr. Lauderdale, and desirin to 
 remove it. But the impression downstairs seems 
 to be that Mr. Crowdie presented it to poor Mr. 
 Lauderdale yesterday, in which case it appears to 
 me, madam, to be part of poor Mr. Lauderdale s 
 belongings." 
 
 "Oh! Well wait a minute, please. I ll ask 
 my daughter if she knows anything about it." 
 
 Mrs. Lauderdale re-entered the room. 
 
 " I heard what he was saying, " said Katharine, 
 before her mother could speak. "He distinctly 
 said he gave the picture to uncle Robert. I was 
 there when he brought it. Isn t that just like 
 them coming to get what they can when he s 
 hardly dead!" 
 
 "Yes but what shall we do?" 
 
 "I don t care. He ll give it to Hester, as he 
 meant to do at first. Let him take it." 
 
 Mrs. Lauderdale went to the door again. 
 
 " Let Mr. Crowdie have his picture, Leek. I ll 
 be responsible." 
 
 "Very good, madam." 
 
CHAPTER XV. 
 
 THE death of Robert Lauderdale was the news 
 of the day, and produced a profound impression 
 everywhere. Even the city put on, here and 
 there, an outward token of mourning, for on every 
 building of the many which had belonged to him, 
 the flag, if it were flying, was half-masted. New 
 York is a city of many flags, and the eye is accus 
 tomed to attach meaning to their position. 
 
 And people spoke with respect of the dead man, 
 which rarely happens when the very rich are sud 
 denly gone. He had done well with his money, 
 and every one said so. He had been more charita 
 ble than many had guessed until those who had been 
 helped by him began to bemoan their loss. Stories 
 went about of his having known, personally and by 
 name, such men as the conductors on the Elevated 
 Road, and of his having visited them in their 
 homes them and many others. His death made 
 no difference to any one in Wall Street, and every 
 one in Wall Street was therefore prepared to 
 praise him. 
 
 Forthwith began the speculation and gossip in 
 regard to the will. John Ralston heard much of 
 318 
 
THE R ALSTONS. 319 
 
 it, and he observed a curious tendency amongst 
 the men at the bank to treat him with greater 
 deference than usual. 
 
 The Ralstons had been informed of the final 
 catastrophe early in the morning. John had im 
 mediately gone to Kobert Lauderdale s house, 
 rather to enquire about Katharine s condition than 
 for any other purpose, and had thence proceeded 
 down town. There was no reason why he should 
 not go to the bank as usual, he thought. The 
 dead man had only been his great-uncle, and he 
 had determined to make Mr. Beman change his 
 mind, and to counteract the influence of Alexander 
 Junior. The best way to do this was to go to work 
 as though nothing had happened. Before he had 
 been half an hour at his desk, his friend Hamil 
 ton Bright, the junior partner in the firm, came up 
 to him. 
 
 Hamilton Bright was a sturdy, heavily built 
 man, five and thirty years of age, with a prosper 
 ous air what bankers call a lucky face/ He 
 was fair as a Saxon, pink and white of complex 
 ion, with clear, honest eyes, and quiet, resolute 
 features. In his early youth he had gone to the 
 West, and driven cattle in the Nacimiento Valley, 
 had made some fortunate investments with the 
 small fortune he had inherited, had returned to 
 New York, gone into Beman Brothers bank, and 
 in the course of a few years had been taken into 
 
320 THE RALSTONS: 
 
 the partnership. He was an extremely normal 
 man. His only peculiarity was a sort of almost 
 fatherly attachment to John Ralston, about which 
 he did not reason. The shadow in his life was his 
 love for Katharine Lauderdale, of which, for 
 John s sake, he had never spoken, but which he 
 was quite unable to conceal. 
 
 He came to John s desk and spoke to him in a 
 low voice. 
 
 "I say, Jack," he began, "is it true that cousin 
 Katharine has broken her arm ? " 
 
 "Yes," answered Ralston, bending his black 
 brows. "How did you hear it?" 
 
 "It s got about and into the papers. There s a 
 paragraph about it. They say she fell downstairs/ 
 
 " Some servant told, I suppose, and got a dollar 
 for the item. It s the small bone of her right 
 arm she was staying with poor uncle Robert, 
 and she had a fall somehow," added Ralston, 
 vaguely. "She must have been there when he 
 died. It was awfully sudden at the end. I saw 
 him yesterday afternoon. He seemed pretty 
 strong. I went this morning to enquire about 
 cousin Katharine they say he died very peace 
 fully. Failure of the heart, you know." . 
 
 Bright nodded thoughtfully, as he leaned one 
 elbow upon Ralston s desk. 
 
 "What sort of a will is it going to turn out?" 
 he asked, after a moment s pause. 
 
THE EALSTONS. 321 
 
 "I haven t the slightest idea," answered John, 
 with perfect truth. 
 
 "It would be a good thing for you if he had died 
 intestate. Your mother and old Alexander are the 
 next of kin. They d get something in the neigh 
 bourhood of thirty or forty millions apiece. You d 
 give up clerking, Jack." 
 
 "I don t know, I m sure. If I were ever to 
 have much money, a year in a bank wouldn t do 
 me any harm. But I m not likely to stay here. 
 Cousin Alexander s a good enemy to me. He s 
 been telling Mr. Beman that I drink, and that sort 
 of thing, and Mr. Beman has requested me to 
 leave on the first of the month." 
 
 " You don t mean that? " Hamilton Bright s fair 
 Saxon face reddened in sudden anger for his friend. 
 
 "Of course I do." 
 
 Ralston told him exactly what had happened, 
 and by the time he had finished, Alexander Lau- 
 derdale Junior had another enemy, and a dangerous 
 one. Had Bright known all, and especially that 
 Katharine owed her broken arm to her father s 
 violence, something unexpected might have hap 
 pened. Bright had for Katharine all the Quixotic 
 devotion which a pure and totally unrequited love 
 can inspire in a perfectly simple disposition, which 
 has been brought into rather close contact with the 
 uncompromising code of such a region as the Kaci- 
 miento Valley. 
 
 VOL. I. 21 
 
322 THE RALSTON8. 
 
 "And you wish to stay in the bank?" asked 
 Bright, quietly, at last. 
 
 "Yes. And you know very well, Ham, that 
 I m not as bad as I used to be. I m going to have 
 a talk with Mr. Beman to-day." 
 
 "Don t you bother," answered Bright. "I ll 
 talk to him now." 
 
 Hamilton Bright s broad shoulders swung round, 
 and he went straight to the senior partner s room. 
 Mr. Beman was in his usual seat at his huge desk. 
 
 "I want to speak to you about Ralston, Mr. 
 Beman," he said, briefly, laying one of his broad 
 hands upon the shelf of the desk. "You ve told 
 him to go on the first of the month, because 
 Mr. Alexander Lauderdale informed you that he 
 drank." 
 
 "Yes," answered Mr. Beman, "I have, though 
 I don t know how you heard that it was through 
 Mr. Lauderdale." 
 
 "Well it s a fact, or Ralston wouldn t have 
 said so, in the first place, and I see you admit it. 
 But there isn t a word of truth in the story. Rals 
 ton gave up wine altogether last winter." 
 
 " Do you mean to say that Mr. Lauderdale has 
 told me a deliberate falsehood, Mr. Bright?" 
 asked the old banker. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 Now Mr. Beman had a very high opinion of 
 Hamilton Bright, but he looked long and earnestly 
 
THE R ALSTONS. 323 
 
 into the clear blue eyes before he made up his mind 
 what to say. 
 
 " I d not considered the affair as of any import 
 ance," he said, at last. "But you ve made it very 
 serious. Mr. Lauderdale is Ralston s cousin, and 
 might be supposed to know what he was talking 
 about." 
 
 "Yes. That doesn t make it any better for 
 him," observed Bright. "I know what I m talk 
 ing about, too. Mr. Lauderdale is a sort of cousin 
 of mine, and I know them all pretty well. I 
 haven t much opinion of Mr. Lauderdale, myself." 
 
 Again Mr. Beman stared and met the calm blue 
 eyes. He recalled Alexander Junior s steely grey 
 ones, and did not prefer them. But he said noth 
 ing. Bright continued. 
 
 " If you can get him to come here, Mr. Beman, 
 I d like to repeat what I ve said in his presence. 
 He s a liar, he s a sneak, and I m inclined to think 
 he s a scoundrel, though I wouldn t say more." 
 
 But in this Bright did Alexander Junior an in 
 justice. Mr. Beman, however, had not survived 
 fifty years of banking in New York without know 
 ing that just such men as Alexander are sometimes 
 wrecked, morally and financially, after having 
 inspired confidence for half a lifetime. 
 
 "You use pretty strong language, Mr. Bright. 
 I ve known Mr. Lauderdale a long time, but not 
 intimately, though I ve always considered him a 
 
324 THE E ALSTONS. 
 
 valuable friend in business relations. I shall cer 
 tainly not countenance any such proceedings as 
 calling him to account for what he said. But if 
 you are sure of Ralston, Mr. Bright, please ask 
 him to step here for a moment. We ll keep him. 
 Not that he s likely to stay long," added Mr. 
 Beman, with a smile. " His mother and Mr. Lau- 
 derdale s father are next of kin to Mr. Robert 
 Lauderdale, who died this morning, Pm told. I 
 should certainly not wish to do an injustice to any 
 near relation of my old acquaintance." 
 
 Hamilton Bright, who rarely wasted words, 
 merely nodded and left the room. He went imme 
 diately to Ralston again. 
 
 "It s all right, Jack," he said. "Mr. Beman 
 wants you to stay, and wants to tell you so. Go 
 right in." 
 
 "Thank you, Ham," said Ralston, rising. 
 
 A moment later he was standing before Mr. 
 Beman. The old gentleman looked up over his 
 glasses. 
 
 "Mr. Ralston," he said, "I ve reason to believe 
 that I was hasty yesterday. I understand that my 
 friend was mistaken in what he said of you. I 
 regret what I said myself. I shall be very glad if 
 you ll stay with us. I learn from other sources 
 that you re very attentive to your work, and I must 
 say Mr. Ralston " he smiled pleasantly " it 
 will be just as well for you to know something 
 
THE RALSTONS. 325 
 
 about our business, considering the position the 
 enviable position which you ll probably some 
 day occupy." 
 
 John Ralston, the son of one of the next of kin, 
 was not quite the same person as Jack Ralston, the 
 grand-nephew of a millionaire. 
 
 "I don t know what position I m to occupy," he 
 answered. "But I m very glad to stay with you, 
 Mr. Beman and I m much obliged to you for 
 doing me this justice." 
 
 " Not at all, not at all. I should be very sorry 
 to do any one an injustice especially a near rela 
 tion of my old and valued acquaintance, Mr. 
 Robert Lauderdale." 
 
 Thereupon John Ralston withdrew, very well 
 satisfied. He had a sort of premonition to the 
 effect that things were to go better with him. It 
 was clear, at least, that Alexander Junior could 
 not prevail against him, since John had van 
 quished him twice within twenty-four hours. He 
 wondered whether Alexander were sitting all alone 
 in his office at the Trust Company, nervously tap 
 ping the table with his long, smooth fingers, and 
 wondering how soon he was to know the contents 
 of the will. 
 
 The morning wore on, and he could almost see 
 in the faces of his fellow-clerks how the impres 
 sion was growing that he would turn out to be one 
 of the heirs. There was an indescribable some- 
 
326 THE RALSTONS. 
 
 thing in their glances, a hardly perceptible change 
 in their manner, of which he was aware in spite of 
 himself. But no news came. 
 
 At half past twelve he went out and got his 
 luncheon at Sutherland s, as usual. When he came 
 back, he found a note on his desk from his mother. 
 He opened it in considerable excitement, for he 
 could not deny that he hoped a very large share of 
 the inheritance might come to Mrs. Ralston, if not 
 to himself. But the note contained no final news. 
 Mrs. Ralston said that, considering the enormous 
 value of the estate, the lawyers desired to make the 
 will public as soon as possible a common meas 
 ure in such cases, as the sudden demise of very 
 rich men has a tendency to affect public confidence, 
 until it is known who is to have the principal con 
 trol of the fortune. Mrs. Ralston said that only 
 she herself and old Mr. Alexander Lauderdale, as 
 being the two next of kin, had been requested to 
 hear the will read that afternoon. She advised 
 him to come home and wait for her, as early as 
 he could conveniently leave the bank. 
 
 That was all, and he had to possess his soul in 
 patience during several hours more. His mother 
 had not yet seen Katharine, and did not mention 
 her. It was impossible to foresee what she would 
 do, but it was clear enough that she would not, and 
 could not, return to her father s house at once. 
 
 Before the afternoon was far advanced, the wis- 
 
THE R ALSTONS. 327 
 
 dom of the lawyers advice about the reading of 
 the will became apparent. Rumours were afloat 
 that the whole fortune was to go to old Alexander, 
 and rumour further stated that he was in his dotage, 
 and would be capable of selling miles of real estate 
 to found a refuge for escaped lunatics. Serious 
 persons gave no credit to such talk, of course, but 
 any one acquainted with New York knows how 
 little, at a given moment, may upset the market 
 and cause disaster. The reason of this appears to 
 be that there are more undertakings unfinished yet, 
 or just begun, in America, than there are else 
 where, which depend for their success altogether 
 upon a period of comparative calm in financial 
 affairs. To check them, though they might turn 
 out well, is often to kill them, which means ruin 
 to those who have backed them at the beginning. 
 
 But matters proceeded rapidly. Before Ralston 
 left the bank, the newsboys were crying the even 
 ing papers, containing, as they avowed, the ex 
 traordinary will of Robert Lauderdale. In five 
 minutes every one in the bank had read the state 
 ment. 
 
 There was a paragraph in which, after giving the 
 reasons for making the will public at once, its 
 principal conditions were named. John, who 
 knew nothing of what Katharine had heard, was 
 neither surprised nor disappointed. The para 
 graph had evidently been written by one of the 
 
 OF THF 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
328 THE RALSTONS. 
 
 lawyers, and sent to all the papers for publication, 
 and there was no account of any interview with 
 any of the heirs. It was a plain account, as far 
 as was possible. 
 
 Mr. Robert Lauderdale, it said, had never mar 
 ried; but he had numerous relations, who were all 
 descended from the original Alexander Lauder 
 dale, the grandfather of the deceased. In order to 
 avoid all possible litigation after his death, Mr. 
 Lauderdale had left his fortune as though it had 
 been left by his grandfather, regularly distributed 
 amongst all the heirs of the primeval Alexander, 
 with no legacies whatsoever, excepting certain 
 annuities to be bought of an insurance company 
 before the distribution, for the benefit of the ser 
 vants in his employ at the time of his death. The 
 will, said the paragraph, bore a very recent date, 
 and had been drawn up, strange to say, by a young 
 lawyer of no particular standing. The names of 
 the witnesses were also given, and, oddly enough, 
 they were persons quite unknown to any one con 
 cerned. The paragraph went on to say that it was 
 presumed that the will would not be contested by any 
 one, and would be promptly admitted to probate. 
 A list of the heirs followed. They were : Alexan 
 der Lauderdale Senior, Alexander Lauderdale Jun 
 ior, Mrs. Benjamin Slay back, Robert Lauderdale 
 Slayback, her infant son, Miss Katharine Lauder 
 dale, Mrs. Admiral Ralston, John Ralston, Mrs. 
 
THE RALSTONS. 329 
 
 Richard Bright, Hamilton Bright, Mrs. Walter 
 Crowclie. In all, there were ten living persons. 
 The property was to be divided precisely as 
 though the primeval Alexander had left it to his 
 two sons, and as though they, in turn, had divided 
 it amongst their children, down to the youngest 
 living heir, who was Benjamin Slayback s baby 
 boy. 
 
 John Kalston pored over the paragraph till he 
 knew it by heart. Then, as soon as he proceeded 
 to apply the terms to actual circumstances, he saw 
 that one-half of the whole fortune must go to 
 Hamilton Bright, his mother, and his sister, Hes 
 ter Crowdie. Of the remaining half, he and his 
 mother would have half between them, or a quar 
 ter of the whole. The smallest share would go to 
 those who actually bore the name of Lauderdale, 
 for only the last quarter would remain to be 
 distributed between the two Alexanders, Char 
 lotte, Katharine, and Charlotte s child. Eobert 
 Lauderdale had thus provided a little more liber 
 ally for Katharine and himself than for most of 
 the members of the family, since they were to 
 have, ultimately, more than a quarter of the whole. 
 And Alexander Junior would get one of the small 
 est shares. But it seemed strange that the 
 Brights should have so much, though it was just 
 possible that the old gentleman might have thought 
 it wise to place a large share in the hands of a 
 
330 THE RALSTON8. 
 
 trained man of business who would keep it to 
 gether. 
 
 On his side, Hamilton Bright had made the same 
 calculations, and was as near to losing his head 
 with delight as his calm nature made possible. 
 He came up to Jack, and proposed that they should 
 walk up town together and discuss matters. 
 
 "I can t," answered Ralston. "I ll go a bit of 
 the way on foot, but. my mother wants to see me as 
 soon as possible." 
 
 They went out, followed by the envious eyes of 
 many who had read the paragraphs. In a few 
 days they were both to have millions. 
 
 " Well, " said Ralston, when they were together 
 on the pavement of Broad Street, " it s a queer 
 will, isn t it? I suppose we ought to congratulate 
 each other." 
 
 "Wait till it s all settled," answered Bright, 
 cautiously. "Not that there s going to be any 
 difficulty, as far. as I can see," he added. "It 
 seems to be all right, and properly witnessed." 
 
 "Oh it s all right enough. But if Alexander 
 Junior can fight it, he will. He s come out worse 
 than he expected. The only odd thing, to my 
 mind, is the name of the lawyer. Who is George 
 W. Russell, anyway? Did you ever hear of him? " 
 
 "Oh, yes I know who he is. He s a young 
 chap who s lately set up for himself real estate. 
 I think I heard of his doing some work for uncle 
 
THE EALSTONS. 331 
 
 Robert last year. He s all right. And he d be 
 careful about the witnessing and all that." 
 
 "Yes well but why did uncle Robert go to 
 him? Why didn t he employ his own lawyer 
 his regular one, I mean or Henry Brett, or some 
 body one s heard of? I should think it would be 
 more natural." 
 
 " Probably he had made another will before, and 
 didn t like to tell his own lawyer that he was 
 making a new one. I ve heard it said that old 
 men are queer about that. They don t want any 
 one to know that they ve changed their minds. 
 When they do, they re capable of going to any 
 shyster to get the papers drawn up. That s prob 
 ably what uncle Robert did. " 
 
 " It s a very just will in principle," said Ralston. 
 "I don t know what it will turn out in practice. 
 I wonder what the estate is really worth." 
 
 "Over eighty millions, anyhow. I know that, 
 because Mr. Beman said he had reason to be sure 
 of it some time ago." 
 
 "That gives us two twenty and you forty 
 amongst you three. You didn t expect all that, 
 Ham." 
 
 "Expect it! I didn t expect anything. The old 
 gentleman never said a word to me about it. Of 
 course you were in a different position, your 
 mother being next of kin with old Alexander. 
 But if Alexander Junior broke the will he can t 
 
332 THE RALSTONS. 
 
 though, I m certain I shouldn t get anything. 
 Of course I think any will s just that gives me 
 a lot of money. And if Alexander fights, I ll 
 fight, too." 
 
 " He will, if he has an inch of ground to stand 
 on. By the bye, if all goes smoothly, I suppose 
 you ll retire from business, and I shall stop clerk 
 ing, and Crowdie will give up painting." 
 
 "I don t know," answered Bright. " As for me, 
 I think I shall stick to the bank. There ll be 
 more interest in the thing when I ve got a lot of 
 money in it. Crowdie ? Oh he ll go on paint 
 ing as long as he can see. He likes it and it 
 isn t hard work." 
 
 They talked a little longer in the same strain, 
 and then Ralston left his friend and went up town 
 by the Elevated, pondering deeply on the situation. 
 One thing seemed clear enough. However matters 
 turned out, whether Alexander Junior fought the 
 will or not, Ralston and Katharine would be free 
 to declare their marriage as soon as they pleased. 
 That consideration outweighed all others with him 
 at the present moment, for he was tired of waiting. 
 It was four months since he had been married, and 
 in that time he had seldom had an opportunity 
 of talking freely with his wife. The perpetual 
 strain of secrecy was wearing upon his nervous 
 nature. He would at any time have preferred to 
 fight any one or anything, rather than have any- 
 
THE RALSTONS. 333 
 
 thing to conceal, and concealment had been forced 
 upon him as a daily necessity. 
 
 He said to himself with truth that lie might as 
 well have struck Alexander for one reason as for 
 another; that he might just as well have faced him 
 about the marriage as about the calumny upon his 
 own character which Alexander had uttered. But 
 circumstances had been against his doing so. At 
 no moment yet, until the present, had he felt him 
 self quite free to take Katharine from her home 
 and to bring her to his mother s. Alexander s 
 own violence had made it possible. And he had 
 intended, or he and his mother had agreed, to take 
 the step at once, when suddenly Robert Lauder- 
 dale s death had arrested everything. There were 
 fifty reasons for not declaring the marriage now, 
 or for several weeks to come chief of all, per 
 haps, the mere question of good taste. To declare 
 a marriage on the very morrow of a death in the 
 family would surprise people; the world would 
 find it easy to believe that the young couple had 
 acted contrary to Robert Lauderdale s wishes, and 
 had waited for his death, in fear of losing any 
 part of the inheritance by offending him. Such 
 haste would not be decent. 
 
 But there would be no need to wait long, John 
 thought, and in the meantime Katharine could 
 surely not go back to Clinton Place. 
 
 Wherever else she might be, he should have 
 
334 THE RALSTONS. 
 
 plenty of opportunities of seeing her at his leisure. 
 He reached his home and found his mother waiting 
 for him in his study. She was pale and looked 
 tired. 
 
 "I suppose you ve heard?" she said, inter 
 rogatively, as he entered. "I see it s in all the 
 papers." 
 
 "Yes," answered John, gravely. "I ve been 
 talking with Ham Bright we left the bank to 
 gether." 
 
 "I suppose he s in the seventh heaven," said 
 Mrs. Ralston. "Who would ever have expected 
 such a will?" 
 
 "I m sure I didn t. May I smoke, mother? I 
 haven t had a chance all day." 
 
 "Of course always smoke. I like it. Jack 
 I ve been there most of the day, you know. I 
 went in twice to look at him. What a grand old 
 man he was ! I wish you could see him lying there 
 on white velvet like an old king." 
 
 " I don t like to see dead people," answered Rals 
 ton, lighting a cigar. "Besides I was fond of 
 him." 
 
 "So was I. Don t think I wasn t, my dear 
 very fond of him. But you and I don t look at 
 those things just in the same way, I know. I 
 wish I could see them as you do dream of some 
 thing beyond, as you do. To me feeling that it s 
 all over, and that he is there, dead on his bed, and 
 
THE EALSTONS. 335 
 
 nowhere else, all there is of him now, or ever will 
 be well, I was glad to see him as I did. I shall 
 always remember him as I saw him to-day. I 
 wish I believed something. To me the only 
 hope is the hope of memory for good things and 
 forgetfulness for bad things, as long as life lasts. 
 I ve got another good memory of a good man I 
 was fond of so I ve got something." 
 
 "It s a depressing sort of creed," said Ralston, 
 smoking thoughtfully. "Not that mine s worth 
 much, I suppose. Still " 
 
 He let the word imply what it might, and puffed 
 slowly at his cigar. Mrs. Ralston passed her hand 
 over her eyes, and said nothing in answer. 
 
 " I don t care ! " exclaimed John, suddenly. " I 
 can t believe it all ends here. I can t, and I 
 won t. There s something somewhere, I dare 
 say I shall never get it, but there s something. I 
 know it, because I feel there is. It s in me, and 
 you, and everybody." 
 
 Mrs. Ralston smiled sadly. She had heard her 
 husband triumphantly refute the ontological argu 
 ment many a time. 
 
 "I wish I felt it in me, then," she answered, 
 sincerely. "Jack isn t there something strange 
 about this will, though? An unknown lawyer, 
 servants for witnesses all that, as though it had 
 been done in a hurry. It seems odd to me." 
 
 "Yes. Bright and I were talking about it." 
 
336 THE ItALSTONS. 
 
 He went on to tell her what Bright thought. 
 
 "He says he knows the lawyer, though," he 
 concluded, "and that he s a straight man, so it 
 must be all right." 
 
 " Mr. Allen said he d only heard his name men 
 tioned once or twice lately," said Mrs. Kalston. 
 "It was a long, long will. Then every servant 
 was mentioned by name. I had no idea there 
 could be so many in the house." 
 
 "Who are the witnesses?" asked John. 
 
 " One was the secretary you know? That nice 
 young fellow who used to be about. I don t know 
 who the others were I ve forgotten their names. 
 Mr. Allen didn t seem to think there d be any 
 difficulty about finding them. He thought the 
 property was all in this State most of it s in the 
 city, so that the will could be proved immediately." 
 
 "Well I hope so. But I believe there ll be 
 some trouble. Alexander only comes in for a 
 small share. He ll do his best to break the will, 
 so as to get the money divided between his father 
 and you. The Brights would get nothing, in that 
 case. We should get a lot more, of course but 
 then I can t realize what twenty millions mean, 
 can you? What difference will it make in our 
 lives, whether we have twenty or forty? Those 
 sums are mythological, anyhow. The more a man 
 has, above ten millions, the more care and bother 
 and worry and enemies he s got for the rest of his 
 life." 
 
THE RALSTONS. 337 
 
 "Fm glad to hear you talk in that way, Jack," 
 said Mrs. Ralston. "It s just my feeling. But 
 it s not everybody who thinks so. Most men 
 well, you know ! " 
 
 "I think you re mistaken there, mother," an 
 swered Ralston. "I m talking of private individ 
 uals, of course not of men who are in big things, 
 like railways, or banks but just private persons 
 who want to livfe on their income and enjoy them 
 selves, and who haven t enormous families, of 
 course. No reasonable being can spend more than 
 rive hundred thousand a year without trouble 
 at least, I don t think so. Uncle Robert didn t, 
 actually spend three hundred thousand, I ve heard 
 it said. He cared for nothing but white velvet 
 and horses of all things to go together! Of 
 course he gave away a million a year or so. But 
 that doesn t count as expenses. All the rest just 
 rolled up, and he had to spend hours and hours 
 every day in taking care of it. Now, I just ask 
 you, what possible satisfaction can there be in 
 that? And everybody thinks just the same who s 
 not a born idiot or a financier. Now Bright 
 he s different. He s a partner in Beman s and 
 finance amuses him. He d like to be the Astors 
 and the Vanderbilts and the Rothschilds and all 
 the rest of them, rolled into one. He d like to ride 
 Wall Street like a pony and direct millions, as he 
 owns cattle out in the Nacimieiito Valley. I 
 
 VOL. i. 22 
 
338 THE RALSTONS. 
 
 wouldn t, for my part. Twenty thousand a year 
 has always seemed wealth to me, though most 
 people one knows say one can t more than live on 
 it. Did you see Katharine, mother? " 
 
 " Of course. We had a long talk." 
 
 "You didn t tell her anything, I suppose? I 
 mean, what we were talking about last night?" 
 
 "No. I thought you d rather tell her that you d 
 told me. Besides just now! But she can t stay 
 there, Jack. It s rather a ghastly situation 
 alone in the house with the dead man, and only 
 the servants. That nurse has stayed, though, to 
 take care of her arm. But it s grim all the 
 shades down, and every one talking in whispers. 
 She was in one of the back rooms, so that she 
 could have the window open." 
 
 "Oh she was up, then, was she? Dressed, 
 and all that?" 
 
 "Yes it s the small bone of the arm. She 
 won t have to stay in bed. You can go and see 
 her if you like. That is, if she s still there. I 
 advised her to go and stay with the C rowdies. 
 She looked at me as though she wondered whether 
 I knew anything. I suppose she expected that 
 I d advise her to go home. But that s impos 
 sible." 
 
 "Of course but she hates Crowdie. We all 
 do, for that matter. I don t believe she ll go. 
 Didn t she say?" 
 
THE RALSTONS. 339 
 
 "No. Why do we all hate Crowdie? We do 
 it s quite true. By the bye, he s distinguished 
 himself to-day. You know that picture of Katha 
 rine?" 
 
 "Yes he gave it to poor uncle Kobert only 
 yesterday." 
 
 " Well he came and took it away this morning 
 before ten o clock. Katharine told me." Mrs. 
 Kalston laughed without smiling. 
 
 " Upon my word ! But it s rather curious, though. 
 I didn t know he was mean. He never seemed to 
 be, somehow." 
 
 "No I know. It struck me as strange, too. 
 A new light on his character." 
 
 " I fancy he has some object. I hate him I 
 loathe him! But that isn t like him. I wonder 
 whether Hester was angry because he gave it away. 
 It was for her, you know, and she may not have 
 liked his giving it away. I ll go and see Katha 
 rine. W T as it late when you left there? " 
 
 " About half past four. I stayed with her a long 
 time after the lawyer had gone." 
 
 "Mother," said Kalston, suddenly, "why can t 
 we just face it out and bring her here? Would it 
 look too strange, do you think? " 
 
 "Yes. People would say we d waited for poor 
 uncle Robert to die. You must have a little more 
 patience, dear boy." 
 
 "That s just what I thought at first," answered 
 
340 THE RALSTONS. 
 
 Ralston. "I ll go and see her. If she hadn t 
 left at half past four, I don t believe she ll leave 
 to-day. When is the funeral to be?" 
 "Day after to-morrow, I think." 
 
 END OF VOL. I. 
 
THE RALSTONS 
 
THE RALSTONS. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 RALSTON was mistaken in supposing that Katha 
 rine had abandoned all idea of leaving the house 
 on the Park because it was so late. Depressed as 
 she was, and in almost constant pain from her arm, 
 the atmosphere was altogether too melancholy for 
 her to bear. Moreover, she saw how utterly un 
 natural her staying must seem in the eyes of the 
 world, should her acquaintances ever find out that 
 she had remained all alone in the great house after 
 her uncle s death. After Mrs. Ralston had left 
 her, she had made up her mind to leave in any 
 case, had caused her belongings to be got ready, 
 and had ordered a carriage. But she had not quite 
 decided whither she would go, and Ralston found 
 her in the library still turning the matter over. 
 
 "Oh, Jack!" she cried, "I m so glad you ve 
 come, dear ! " 
 
 " I came this morning," he answered. " But you 
 weren t awake yet. You re dressed to go out 
 
 TOL. II. 1 1 
 
* THE R ALSTONS. 
 
 surely you re not going to move at this hour? Tell 
 me how s the arm? Does it hurt you much? " 
 
 "Oh it hurts, of course," said Katharine, 
 almost indifferently. "That is it s numb, don t 
 you know? But Doctor Routh says there s noth 
 ing to be done for a day or two, and he hasn t moved 
 the bandages. Now don t talk about it any more 
 there are other things much more important. 
 Sit down, Jack there, in uncle Robert s chair. 
 Poor uncle Robert ! " she exclaimed, in a different 
 tone, realizing that the old man would never sit 
 beside her again. 
 
 " Poor man ! " echoed Ralston, with real sorrow 
 in his voice. 
 
 There was silence for a moment while they both 
 thought of him. The stillness of the whole house 
 was oppressive. There was an odour of many 
 fresh flowers, and the peculiar smell of new black 
 stuffs which the disposers of the dead bring with 
 them. With a sort of instinct of sympathy, John 
 bent down and kissed the gloved wrist of Katha 
 rine s left hand as it lay on the arm of the easy- 
 chair. She looked at him quickly, moved her 
 hand a little towards him in thanks, and smiled 
 sadly before she spoke. 
 
 "Jack I can t stay here," she said. "I m not 
 nervous, you know, but I m not quite myself after 
 all this. It s too awfully melancholy. Every 
 time I go to my room I have to pass the door of 
 
THE R ALSTONS. 3 
 
 the room where lie s lying and then I go in and 
 look at him. It s got to be a fixed idea if I go 
 near the door I have to go in. And it brings it all 
 back. Then all the people they come in shoals. 
 There have been ever so many who ve wanted to 
 look. It s that horrible curiosity about death. All 
 the relations. Even the three Miss Miners came. 
 I thought they d never go. Of course I don t see 
 them, so I have to be always dodging in here or 
 into the drawing-room, or the gallery, or else I 
 have to stay in my room. It will be worse to 
 morrow." 
 
 "Yes," answered Ralston. "You ought not to 
 stay." He paused a moment. "Dear," he added, 
 "I want you to know it at once I ve told my 
 mother that we re married " 
 
 " Oh, Jack ! " exclaimed Katharine, taken by 
 surprise. 
 
 "It was much better. I am not sure that it 
 wouldn t have been better to tell her long ago. 
 She was hurt, because I d kept it from her but 
 she s very glad, all the same. You see, she would 
 have had to know it all some day don t you think 
 I was right to tell her ? " 
 
 "Yes- I suppose so. Do you know? I m a 
 little bit afraid of her well not exactly afraid, 
 perhaps I don t know how to express it " 
 
 "You needn t be. She thinks there s nobody 
 like you! " 
 
4 THE RALSTONS. 
 
 "I m glad she s fond of me," said Katharine. 
 "Fin glad you ve told her I was a little sur 
 prised at first, that was all. Yes I m glad that 
 she knows." 
 
 She was evidently thinking over the situation, 
 wondering, perhaps, what her next meeting with 
 her mother-in-law was to be like. 
 
 "She s been here with you, hasn t she?" asked 
 John, resuming the conversation after a short 
 pause. 
 
 " Yes, and my own mother, too and then Mr. 
 Allen, and dear old grandpapa. Poor old gentle 
 man! He sat in a chair and cried like a baby 
 when he went in. And then the reading of the 
 will and the endless people the people who 
 have to do with the funeral, you know. All those 
 things jar on me. I must get away. I can t stand 
 it another hour at least not alone. I think I 
 shall go home, after all." 
 
 "Home?" repeated Kalston, in surprise. "But 
 how can you, after all this? Just think how your 
 father will behave! Especially since he s heard of 
 the will. I m sure he expected to divide every 
 thing with my mother, unless he managed to get it 
 all for himself. I see why you promised not to 
 tell after uncle Robert had told you " 
 
 "No you don t see, Jack," answered Katha 
 rine, thoughtfully. "I wonder whether it would 
 be right for me to tell you now. I suppose so. 
 
THE RALSTONS. 5 
 
 It may make a difference, though I suppose it 
 can t, really." 
 
 "Do just as you feel, yourself," said Ealston. 
 " You know what he said I don t. I can t judge 
 for you." 
 
 Katharine was silent for a few moments. Then 
 it seemed best to confide in him, and she turned 
 towards him suddenly. 
 
 "I ll tell you, Jack. This is not the will he 
 told me of. It s quite different in every way. It 
 was only made a few days ago." 
 
 "Well, then, this is the valid one." 
 
 "Yes of course. The secretary knew where 
 it was in a drawer of this desk, here. Uncle 
 Robert had told him it was there, only two days 
 ago, in case of his death. The key was on his 
 chain, on the dressing-table upstairs. You see 
 the secretary was one of the witnesses." 
 
 "That s an advantage, anyway. Witnesses are 
 often hard to find, I know. So this will is quite 
 different from the old one?" 
 
 " Oh quite ! The one he told me about left 
 everything to you and Charlotte and me in three 
 trusts, I think he said. We were all to give half 
 our income to the parents papa and my mother 
 and your mother and we were all to support 
 grandpapa. The Brights were to have a million, 
 and there was something for the Miners." 
 
 " Why, that would have given you and me two- 
 
6 THE EALSTON8. 
 
 thirds of the fortune! That would hardly have 
 been fair." 
 
 "No it seemed a great deal. But you see he 
 changed his mind before he died. It s much 
 more just, as it is though it does seem as though 
 grandpapa and papa ought to have more than the 
 Brights." 
 
 " I don t see why, if you look at it logically 
 they re descended just as directly from our great- 
 great-grandfather " 
 
 "Yes but what had he to do with it? The 
 money didn t come from him." 
 
 "No still to avoid all quarrelling, there 
 was no other way. Only it s going to make the 
 biggest family quarrel there s ever been since wills 
 were invented. That s the real logic of events. 
 Things always turn out like that. Better is the 
 enemy of good, you know. Now, let me see. 
 Your father is going to try and break the will, of 
 course. Your grandfather will go with him, be 
 cause if there s no will, he ll get half for his 
 asylums and charities. Then I suppose I ought to 
 advise my mother to go with him against the will, 
 too, if there s any good ground for breaking it. Of 
 course we don t want half of what he s left us, as it 
 is but still, if it s law, it s law, and there s no 
 reason why we shouldn t have what belongs to us, 
 if it does belong to us. The Crowdies are as 
 prosperous as possible. Ham Bright s getting rich, 
 
THE RALSTONS. 1 
 
 I know and then I say, Katharine, if this 
 will breaks down, would the will he told you 
 about be good, if we could find it? That s a 
 curious question. I must ask a lawyer." 
 
 "I don t know anything about those things. 
 But it s getting late, Jack. I must be going 
 somewhere, but where, I can t tell! I think I d 
 much better go home and face it out with papa. 
 I m right, and he s wrong, and he s got to give in 
 sooner or later. I d much better go, and put an 
 end to all this this tension." 
 
 " You re brave enough for anything ! " exclaimed 
 Ralston, with admiration. " Still, if I were you, I 
 wouldn t go till after the funeral, at all events. 
 Don t you think if my mother came here and stayed 
 with you " 
 
 "No, no, Jack! I can t stand it any longer. I 
 can t help going to look at him I should go in 
 the night and it s making me nervous." 
 
 " How funny ! But if you don t want to go into 
 the room, why do you go?" 
 
 "I can t help it I don t know. I m a woman, 
 you know, and those things take hold of one so ! " 
 
 " Somebody ought to stay. I think I will. But 
 you d much better go to the Crowdies . I know 
 you can t bear him, but it would only be for a 
 couple of days. You d be with Hester all the 
 time, and you like her, and you needn t see much 
 of him." 
 
8 THE ^ALSTONS. 
 
 "I thought of going to the Brights . Old Mrs. 
 Bright and I are great friends." 
 
 "No don t! It s hard on Ham. He s so 
 awfully in love with you." 
 
 Yes perhaps he is. But he s down town all 
 day I should only see him at dinner, and a little 
 in the evening." 
 
 " Don t be ruthless, Katharine ! " exclaimed John, 
 with almost involuntary reproach in his tone. 
 
 "Ruthless?" she repeated. "I don t under 
 stand. What is there that s ruthless in that? I 
 could see you so much more freely." 
 
 "Why don t you know how it hurts that 
 sort of thing? To go and stay under the same 
 roof with a man who loves you, when you know, 
 and he knows, that you can never possibly love 
 him?" 
 
 " I suppose it does," answered Katharine, vaguely. 
 "I hadn t thought of that. But then, you know, 
 Ham would never say anything, any more than if 
 he knew we were married." 
 
 " That just makes it so much the harder," replied 
 Ralston, smiling at her woman s view of the case. 
 "Don t you see?" 
 
 "Well of course, if you don t want me to go, 
 Jack, I won t. I believe you re jealous of Ham! " 
 She laughed a little and looked at him lovingly. 
 
 "There s no fear of that," he said. "But he s 
 always been a good friend to me. I know what 
 
THE R ALSTONS. 9 
 
 he d suffer for those two or three days, though you 
 can t understand it, I suppose. I don t want him 
 to suffer on my account." 
 
 "Oh, very well. It seemed simpler, that s all. 
 I dislike Walter Crowdie so I can t tell you ! I 
 thought of going to your house. I suppose you 
 thought of it, too but, of course, it wouldn t do 
 at all." She laughed again, a little nervously this 
 time. 
 
 "It s not to be thought of," answered Ralston, 
 gravely. 
 
 "Then there s nothing for it but to go to the 
 Crowdies . Will you take me down there? I ve 
 ordered the carriage, and I suppose it s ready by 
 this time. There can t be any harm in our driving 
 down together, can there?" 
 
 "Oh, no I should think not. We ll pull the 
 shades half down. Is it one of uncle Robert s 
 carriages?" 
 
 "No I sent to the livery stable. The men 
 have no mourning coats and I thought it would 
 be odd if the carriage were seen driving about as 
 though nothing had happened." 
 
 Ralston could not help contrasting the tactful 
 foresight of this proceeding with Katharine s readi 
 ness to inflict any amount of pain upon Hamilton 
 Bright. It was quite true that he could see her 
 alone more easily at the Brights than at the 
 Crowdies , but his own consideration for his friend 
 
10 THE RALSTONS. 
 
 altogether outweighed the thought. Katharine 
 saw that it did. She returned to the discussion 
 when they were in the carriage. 
 
 "I should have thought you d prefer to see me 
 at the Brights , Jack," she said. "It would be so 
 much nicer. Of course, at the Crowdies I can t 
 be always sending Hester off whenever you come. 
 How strange you are sometimes ! You don t seem 
 to see things as I do." 
 
 "Not this, anyway," cried John, arranging the 
 shades as the carriage turned into Fifth Avenue. 
 "I m sorry for Ham." 
 
 "I should think you d sacrifice him a little for 
 the sake of seeing me." Her tone showed that she 
 was a little hurt. 
 
 "Oh of course! That is " he interrupted 
 himself "that is, you know, if it were very 
 important." 
 
 "But isn t it important as you call it? I 
 wonder whether it means as much to you as it 
 does to me? " She looked at him. 
 
 "What?" he asked. 
 
 " Our meeting just as often as we can, for a 
 minute, for an hour, to be together as long as 
 possible. You don t seem to care as much as 
 I do?" 
 
 " Indeed I do ! " protested John, laying his hand 
 on hers. "How can you say such a thing, dear? 
 You know how much I care ! " 
 
THE EALSTONS. 11 
 
 " Yes but I sometimes wonder " She hesi 
 tated. " You don t think that means that there is 
 any difference in our love, do you?" she asked 
 suddenly, as though she could not help it. 
 
 "Why, no! What difference should there be? 
 We both care just the same only each in our own 
 way, I suppose." 
 
 Ralston s experience was limited, and he was not 
 to be blamed for being a little obtuse and slow to 
 understand. This was a new phase, too, and he 
 was ready to reproach himself with having inad 
 vertently been the cause of it. 
 
 "That s just it," answered Katharine. "You 
 say, each in our own way it seems to me that 
 there s only one way and that s the very most 
 that can be. That s what I mean, dear. There 
 mustn t be two ways. There s only one way of 
 caring." 
 
 "Well that s our way, isn t it?" asked Rals 
 ton, watching her tenderly. 
 
 "Not if it isn t just the same for both of us. 
 Because you re a man and I m a woman that s 
 not a reason for there being any difference I m 
 sure it isn t, Jack ! " she added, earnestly. 
 
 "Of course not! " he answered, not at all seeing 
 what else he could say. 
 
 "Yes but " She stopped again and looked 
 into his eyes. 
 
 John was not good at phrases. Under great emo- 
 
12 THE RAL8TONS. 
 
 tion he could be eloquent in few words with the 
 short, burning syllables, trembling like fire-tongues 
 from a furnace, which break through a man s outer 
 self now and then. But at the present moment he 
 felt no deep emotion scarcely any emotion at all, 
 in fact. For months he had been used to the idea 
 that the beautiful young girl by his side was his 
 lawful wife. For months he had been accustomed 
 to short, half -clandestine meetings. The great 
 thing, his real life with her, was as far off as ever, 
 in his heart s sight, though his reason told him 
 that the long period of probation was drawing to 
 a close. A habit had formed itself in his heart of 
 taking for granted, without words, that each loved 
 the other truly, and that each was waiting for the 
 other. He had won her long ago. His business 
 of late had been to overcome circumstances, and he 
 felt that his actions might speak for him now, 
 without language to help them. Yet he felt sorely 
 at the present moment the need of the phrase, and 
 the absence of the heart-beat that might prompt 
 it. He saw that she missed it, but though he loved 
 her so dearly he could not force it to come. She 
 should have been thankful that he could not, and 
 grateful to fate for his inexperience. 
 
 It is a long drive from the corner of the Park to 
 Lafayette Place, where the Crowdies lived. The 
 distance is fully two miles and a half, and John 
 realized that in the twenty minutes before him 
 
THE RAL8TONS. 13 
 
 there was time for many misunderstandings. With 
 his natural directness, he spoke out. 
 
 "Darling," he said, "don t let s be foolish, and 
 quarrel over nothings " 
 
 "Quarrel? With you ? Why I d rather die, 
 Jack dear! It s not that. I was only think 
 ing" 
 
 She stopped, evidently with no intention of com 
 pleting the sentence, which meant, doubtless, a 
 great deal to her, though it was vague to him. 
 But he had begun his explanation, and was not to 
 be hindered from pursuing it to the end. 
 
 "Yes, I know," he replied, as though setting 
 aside all her possible objections. "Let s look at 
 it sensibly. It amounts to this. We both love 
 each other with all our hearts. You always say 
 care instead of love. I suppose it s a euphem 
 ism. But I say it just as it is. Do you think we 
 should have gone through all we have for each 
 other if we didn t love with all our hearts? I 
 know we couldn t. And as for me, I m perfectly 
 sure I never cared two straws for any one else. 
 Aren t you?" 
 
 " Jack ! " exclaimed Katharine, almost offended 
 at the idea. 
 
 "Yes well," he continued, rapidly, "it isn t 
 possible to say which has done the most, or said 
 the most, for the other s sake. I think you ve 
 done more for me than I have for you, if you want 
 
14 THE R ALSTONS. 
 
 to know but that s been the result of circum 
 stances. You know I d have done anything under 
 the sun, at any moment, don t you?" 
 
 "Of course I do! Do you think I d have made 
 you marry me if I hadn t known that?" 
 
 "Well that s all right. As for saying things 
 I ve said a great deal more than you have. 
 I ve told you I love you several hundred thousand 
 times in the last year or two haven t I?" 
 
 "Yes I ve not counted." Katharine smiled, 
 but Ralston did not see his advantage. 
 
 "I don t say that I ve found many new words to 
 say it with," he pursued. "It doesn t always 
 seem to need new words, and if it did well, I m 
 not an author, you know. I m not Frank Miner. 
 I can t go about with a dictionary in my pocket, 
 looking up new suits of clothes for my feelings 
 every time I want to air them. And sometimes 
 I ve said it to please you, just because I knew 
 you wanted me to say it and would be disappointed 
 if I didn t. You see how frank I am." 
 
 "Yes you re very frank! " She laughed a lit 
 tle, but rather hardly, as though something hurt her, 
 
 "Don t misunderstand me, dear," he said, 
 quickly. "You do I see you do. It s just 
 because I won t be misunderstood that I m talk 
 ing as I am. What I m driving at is this. It 
 isn t true that words never mean anything, as 
 8ome people say " 
 
THE RALSTONS. 15 
 
 " Who says so? What nonsense ! " 
 
 " Oh people say it books do when the 
 authors can t find the words people really say 
 when they mean things. But it s not true. Words 
 mean a great deal, when they do when they just 
 come because they must, you know, in spite of 
 everything and everybody when they ve strength 
 enough to force themselves out, instead of being 
 dragged out, like olives out of a bottle, and pre 
 sented to you on a plate. But when they re real, 
 they re very real, with all of one, like pain or 
 pleasure. Actions always mean something. 
 That s the point. There s no possible mistake 
 when a man does things that need a lot of doing, 
 and don t come easily. Then you know he s in 
 earnest, if you ll only look at what he does. Don t 
 you think that s true, Katharine?" 
 
 "Yes oh, yes! That s true enough. But it 
 needn t prevent a man from saying that he 
 cares " 
 
 " Of course not but if he doesn t happen to 
 want to say it just at that moment " 
 
 "But you should always want to say It. Don t 
 you always feel it?" She looked at him in an odd 
 surprise. 
 
 " Feel it yes always, " he answered, quickly. 
 " But I don t always want to say just what I feel. 
 Do you?" 
 
 "No, But that s different. It makes me so 
 
16 THE R ALSTONS. 
 
 happy when you say it, as you can say it some 
 times." 
 
 " And don t you think it makes me happy when 
 you say it?" he retorted. "And you don t say 
 it half as often as I do, I m sure." 
 
 "Don t I? But I feel it, Jack." Her eyes 
 sought his, and found them looking at her. 
 
 " Well then don t you understand? " he 
 asked. 
 
 But his voice was low, and it hardly reached her 
 ears as the carriage rumbled along, though she 
 knew that his lips moved, and she tried hard to 
 catch the sounds. For a few seconds longer they 
 looked into one another s eyes. Then, without 
 word or warning, lialston took his wife in his arms 
 and kissed her passionately again and again. 
 
 No one in the street could have seen, for the 
 shades were half down and the evening light was 
 waning. The sun had just set, and the dark red 
 houses were floating in the afterglow, as every 
 thing seems to float when twilight lifts reality from 
 the earth into its dreamland. And the carriage 
 rolled and rumbled steadily along. But within it 
 there was silence for a while, as heart beat with 
 heart and breath breathed with breath. 
 
 "Jack let me go to the Brights ," said Katha 
 rine, suddenly, after what had seemed a very long 
 time. 
 
 Her voice was quite changed. It sounded so soft 
 
THE RALSTONS. 17 
 
 and touching that Ealston could not resist it, being 
 taken unawares. 
 
 "Dear if you d so much rather," he answered, 
 with hardly any hesitation. 
 
 " Then tell the coachman, please, " she replied at 
 once, without giving him time to change his mind. 
 
 It was instinctive, and she could not help it. 
 He yielded almost without reluctance, and lower 
 ing the window in the front of the carriage, spoke 
 to the coachman. Katharine breathed a sigh of 
 relief. 
 
 "I m so glad oh, I m so glad!" she cried, 
 leaning far back in her seat. "I couldn t have 
 stood Crowdie for a whole evening! " 
 
 Ralston said nothing in answer, for he was 
 already repenting of his weakness, and the vision 
 of his friend s face rose before him, with all its 
 habitual calm cheerfulness suddenly twisted out 
 of it. 
 
 " Thank you, dear, " said Katharine, softly lay 
 ing her sound hand upon his. " That was sweet of 
 you. You don t know how I feel about it. And 
 you ll come in this evening, won t you? Then 
 perhaps Ham will go out. And Mrs. Bright 
 always goes to bed early, so we can have an hour 
 or two all to ourselves." 
 
 " Certainly, " answered Ralston, a little absently, 
 for he was thinking more of Bright than of him 
 self just then. 
 
 VOL. II. 2 
 
18 THE RALSTONS. 
 
 Katharine withdrew her hand from his, not 
 quickly, nor so that he should think she was hurt 
 again by his tone. And she really suppressed the 
 little sigh of disappointment which rose to her 
 lips. 
 
 They had been already in Fourth Avenue when 
 Ralston had given the new direction to the coach 
 man, and he had turned his horses and was driv 
 ing back. The Brights lived in a small but pretty 
 house in Park Avenue, on Murray Hill. It was 
 some distance to go back. 
 
 "Jack," said Katharine, quietly, "Hamilton 
 Bright s your friend. Don t you think you d bet 
 ter tell him that we re married, and put him out of 
 liis misery? Don t you think it would be much 
 more kind? You can trust him, can t you?" 
 
 "Just as I d trust myself," answered Ralston, 
 without hesitation. "It s for your sake, dear 
 otherwise, I should have told him long ago. But 
 you know what most people think of secret mar 
 riages, and Ham s full of queer prejudices. Even 
 the West couldn t knock them out of him. He s 
 the most terrific conservative about some things. 
 That s the reason why I never thought of suggest 
 ing that I might tell him. Of course if you d 
 rather. It would be a blow to him, I think, but 
 at the same time it s much better that he should 
 know, for his own sake. Only I d rather not 
 tell him while you re in the house." 
 
THE RALSTONS. 19 
 
 Oh if it s going to make any difference about 
 my staying there, we d better wait," answered 
 Katharine. "Of course I hadn t thought of 
 that. I suppose it would make it all the worse, 
 just at first. He wouldn t like to see me. But he 
 must have known, long ago, that we were engaged, 
 and that he had no chance." 
 
 "The one doesn t follow the other," answered 
 Ralston. " A man like Ham doesn t give up hope 
 until the girl he loves is married and done for." 
 
 "Married and done for! Jack! How you 
 talk!" 
 
 "Oh it s a way of saying that she s out of 
 reach, that s all. I ve heard you say it lots of 
 times. No," he continued, after a moment s 
 pause, " I think it would be kinder to wait till you 
 come away. But of course I could tell him any 
 day, down town." 
 
 " Do as you think best, dear. Whatever you do 
 will be right. Only " She stopped, and looked 
 out of the window on her right, away from lials- 
 ton. 
 
 "Only what?" he asked. 
 
 " Only love me ! " she cried, almost fiercely, and 
 turning upon him so quickly that she pressed her 
 injured right arm against the side of the carriage. 
 " Only love me as I want to be loved as I must 
 beloved " 
 
 The passion in her outran the pain of the physi- 
 
20 THE RALSTONS. 
 
 cal hurt, that crept after it and reached her a 
 moment later, so that she turned a little pale. 
 Jack did not know of that, and in his eyes the 
 pallor was of the heart, as the voice was, and the 
 words. It made her more beautiful, and made love 
 seem more true. Then his own heart beat hard, 
 answering the call of hers, as wave answers wave, 
 and his arms were around her again in an instant. 
 
 But at that moment the carriage stopped before 
 the Brights house. A smile came into the face 
 of both of them as they drew back from one an 
 other. Then Ralston opened the door and got out. 
 
 It might not have been easy to explain to Mrs. 
 Bright exactly why Katharine had arrived unex 
 pectedly with a box and a valise to stay three or 
 four days with her, instead of going to her own 
 house at such a time. She knew, of course, that 
 the young girl had been at Robert Lauderdale s 
 during the last twenty-four hours. But Mrs. 
 Bright wanted no explanations, and was overjoyed 
 to have Katharine for any reason, or without any. 
 She received her with open arms, ordered her 
 things to be taken upstairs, asked Ralston to stay 
 and have some tea, and at once began making 
 many enquiries about Katharine s arm. Ralston 
 went away immediately, however. After being 
 alone with Katharine in the carriage, as he had 
 been, he did not care to sit still and listen to the 
 excellent Mrs. Bright s questions. 
 
THE R ALSTONS. 21 
 
 " Thank you, dear, " said Katharine again, in an 
 undertone, as he bade her good-bye. "Come this 
 evening. May Jack come this evening, aunt 
 Maggie?" she asked, turning to Mrs. Bright. 
 
 "Of course, my dear whenever he likes," an 
 swered the cheerful lady. 
 
 Mrs. Bright was a great-granddaughter of the 
 primeval Alexander. Her mother had been Mar- 
 garate Lauderdale. By no possible interpretation 
 of the relationship was she entitled to be consid 
 ered the aunt of any member of the tribe. But 
 they one and all called her aunt Maggie. Even 
 the three Miss Miners, who were nieces of Mr. 
 Bright s father, called her so, and the custom had 
 become fixed and unchangeable in the course of 
 many years. Of late, even grandpapa Lauder 
 dale, the philanthropist, had fallen into the habit, 
 much to the amusement of everybody. 
 
 Mrs. Bright was a huge, fair, happy-faced woman 
 with an amazingly kind heart and a fresh face, 
 peculiar from the apparent absence of eyebrows 
 which existed, indeed, but were almost white by 
 nature. She had the busy manner peculiar to a 
 certain type of very stout people. When she was 
 not asleep she was doing good to somebody but 
 she slept a great deal. Her tastes were marvel 
 lously good, highly refined, and very fastidious. 
 Cleanliness is a virtue next to godliness, according 
 to the proverb and since a number of persons 
 
22 THE RALSTONS. 
 
 have relegated godliness to the catalogue of obso 
 lete superstitions, cleanliness with them, at least, 
 should stand first of all. But Mrs. Bright s mania 
 was specklessness surpassing all dreams of cleanli 
 ness, as pure spring water surpasses soap as a 
 symbol of purity. She took care to see that her 
 house was swept, and she garnished it herself. 
 She exhaled a faint suggestion of sprigs of 
 lavender. 
 
 Hamilton Bright inherited his fresh complexion, 
 sturdy build, and solid good humour from her, but a 
 certain shyness and reserve which were among his 
 characteristics had come to him from his father. 
 
 To Katharine s surprise, he was already at home, 
 and came down to see her as soon as he heard that 
 she was in the house. He sat down by the little 
 tea-table which stood between her and his mother, 
 and he wondered inwardly why she had come. He 
 was pleased, however, and it seemed to him that 
 her coming crowned the day which had brought 
 him such vast and unexpected good fortune. There 
 are men who love with all their hearts and who are 
 not loved in return, nor have any hope of such 
 love, whose greatest happiness is to see the vainly 
 worshipped object of their misplaced affections 
 under just such circumstances. Bright was de 
 lighted that Katharine should be his guest and his 
 mother s she was his guest first, in his thoughts, 
 and it gave him the keenest pleasure to see her 
 
THE RALSTONS. 23 
 
 drinking his and his mother s tea out of his and his 
 mother s old Dresden teacups, just as though it 
 were her own, and thinking it just as good. 
 
 He asked no questions, and he thought of no 
 answers which she might give if he asked any. He 
 was simply pleased, and wished nothing to inter 
 fere with his satisfaction as long as it might last. 
 
 "It s awfully jolly to see you here," he said, 
 after he had looked at her for nearly a minute. 
 
 "Well, you can t be half as pleased as I am," 
 she answered. "I was there all last night, you 
 know, and all to-day. It s grim. I couldn t stand 
 it any longer. And I knew they didn t exactly 
 expect me at home and I didn t want to go to 
 Hester s, so I thought I d drop down upon you 
 without warning, as I knew you had nobody staying 
 with you. But it was rather a calm tiling to do, 
 now that I think of it wasn t it, aunt Maggie?" 
 
 Mrs. Bright beamed, smiled, kissed her fingers 
 to the young girl, and then did perfectly useless 
 tilings with the silver tea-strainer, rinsing it again 
 with boiling water, and touching it fastidiously, as 
 though it might possibly soil her immaculate hands. 
 
CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 KATHARINE had expected to spend a quiet even 
 ing with Ralston. She had counted upon Mrs. 
 Bright s sleepiness, which was overpowering when 
 it suddenly came upon her, and upon Hamilton 
 Bright s tact. She thought that he would very 
 probably go out soon after dinner and not appear 
 again. But she was very much mistaken in her 
 calculations. 
 
 When she came down to dinner she found Bright 
 already in the library. He was bending over a 
 low table and looking at a new book when she 
 entered, and she saw a broad, flat expanse of black 
 shoulders, just surmounted by a round, flaxen head. 
 As he heard her step behind him he straightened 
 himself and turned round to meet her. He put 
 out his hand. She seemed a little surprised at 
 this, since they had exchanged all the usual greet 
 ings when she had come, but she took it with her 
 left, with an unconscious awkwardness which 
 touched him. She laughed a little. 
 
 "It s not easy with my left," she said. "It 
 doesn t come right besides, we ve shaken hands 
 before." 
 
 24 
 
THE RALSTONS. 25 
 
 " I know, " he answered. " But it doesn t do any 
 harm to do it again, you know." 
 
 It gave him pleasure to touch even the tips of 
 her fingers. 
 
 "You have a sort of classic look," he said, 
 glancing at her dress. "Toga you know that 
 sort of thing." 
 
 "I don t know how I m dressed, I m sure," she 
 answered. "It s such a bore to have one s arm in 
 a sling." 
 
 She wore black. Her left side was fitted closely 
 by the soft material, and she had a certain little 
 silver pin at her throat, which had associations 
 for her. She had worn it on the morning of her 
 marriage with John Kalston, and seldom appeared 
 without it, though it was a most insignificant little 
 ornament. Over her right shoulder and arm she 
 had draped a piece of black silk and some lace. 
 Mrs. Bright had come to her room and arranged 
 it for her with unerring skill and taste. It fell 
 gracefully almost to her feet, whence Bright s 
 remark about the toga. 
 
 " I should think it would be rather worse than 
 a bore," he said. "It must hurt all the time. I 
 wonder you keep up at all. But I m glad you ve 
 come down before my mother. I wanted to say 
 something to you about all that s happened. You 
 don t mind, do you?" 
 
 " Why should I mind? " asked Katharine, smil- 
 
26 THE EALSTONS. 
 
 ing at the little timidity which had checked him 
 with its question. 
 
 " Well you know it s about the will. There 
 may be trouble about it. Your father may wish 
 to break it if he can. It s not unnatural. But of 
 course, if he does, there s going to be a most terrific 
 row all round. We shall all be raging furiously 
 together like the heathen in about a week, if he 
 attacks the will. The Thirty Years War wouldn t 
 be in it, with the row there s going to be." 
 
 "You take a cheerful view, cousin Ham," said 
 Katharine, with a smile. "Who s going to fight 
 whom?" 
 
 "You and I are going to be on opposite sides," 
 answered Bright, gravely, and fixing his clear blue 
 eyes on her face. 
 
 "Well what difference does that make?" she 
 asked. "I mean, what personal difference? We 
 shall be just as good friends, shan t we?" 
 
 " Ah that s it ! Shall we? " He continued to 
 watch her earnestly. 
 
 "Why not?" she asked, returning his gaze 
 quietly. "What earthly difference can it make 
 to me? Of course, I hope papa won t do anything 
 of the kind. We shall all have such heaps of 
 money that I can t see why we should fight about 
 a little, more or less " 
 
 " XQ but if he breaks the will, my mother and 
 Hester and I shall get nothing at all, and of course 
 
THE RALSTONS. 27 
 
 I shall fight it like anything. You understand 
 that, don t you? It s rather a big thing, you know 
 it s forty millions or nothing, because we re not 
 next of kin. You ll understand why I shall fight 
 it, won t you?" 
 
 He asked the last question very anxiously, and 
 in his broad face there was a curious struggle 
 between the fighting instinct, expressed in the set 
 ting of the firm jaw, and the painful fear of being 
 misunderstood, which showed itself in the entreat 
 ing glance of the eyes. 
 
 "I understand perfectly," answered Katharine. 
 "It s your duty to fight it of course." 
 
 "I m so glad you look at it in that way," he 
 said. "Because if you didn t " He paused in 
 the middle of the sentence. 
 
 "If I didn t, I should be very stupid," observed 
 Katharine. 
 
 "No, no! I mean if I thought you couldn t 
 understand it well, I ll be hanged if I wouldn t 
 pretty nearly let the millions go, rather than 
 displease you ! " 
 
 He blurted out the last words bluntly, as such 
 men say wild but sincerely meant things. Katha 
 rine understood. 
 
 "Please don t say such foolish things, cousin 
 Ham. You know it s perfectly absurd to talk of 
 sacrificing a fortune in that way. Besides, you d 
 have no right not to fight your best. Two-thirds 
 
28 THE E ALSTONS. 
 
 of what you 11 get will go to your mother and 
 sister. You haven t the slightest right even to 
 think of the possibility of sacrificing aunt Maggie 
 and Hester." 
 
 "No. I suppose I ve not. And I know that it 
 isn t as though you weren t to have a big fortune 
 anyway, however it turns out. Perhaps I m a 
 fool, but I simply can t bear to think of being 
 opposed to you in anything. That s the plain fact, 
 in two words." 
 
 Katharine heard a sort of unsteadiness in the 
 tone, and looked at him for a moment in silence. 
 
 "Thank you, cousin Ham," she said. "You re 
 a good friend. Thank you." She laid her hand 
 upon his arm for an instant. 
 
 "That s better than millions," answered Bright, 
 in an undertone, for his mother was just entering 
 the room. 
 
 Mrs. Bright might well be pardoned if she did 
 not assume a lugubrious and funereal expression 
 that evening. To her, Robert Lauderdale had been 
 a distant relation of enormous wealth, from whom 
 she had little or nothing to expect, and whom she 
 rarely saw. She had never needed his help, and 
 though he had occasionally remembered her and 
 sent her a jewel at Christmas, neither she nor her 
 son had ever felt very much indebted to him. The 
 surprise was therefore overwhelming, and the re 
 joicing inevitable and natural. Knowing, how- 
 
THE R ALSTONS. 29 
 
 ever, how dearly the old man had loved Katharine, 
 and that she had been with him at the time of his 
 death and had been really fond of him, Mrs. Bright 
 avoided the subject altogether during dinner. It 
 would not keep out of her face, however, nor out 
 of her manner. Once or twice she and her son 
 exchanged glances, and both suppressed a happy 
 smile. Katharine saw, understood, and felt sad. 
 The conversation turned upon generalities and was 
 not very amusing. 
 
 Katharine could not help thinking of what 
 Bright had said to her just before dinner. At 
 the moment, he had undoubtedly meant that he 
 would sacrifice the vast inheritance rather than 
 incur her momentary displeasure. Of course, she 
 said to herself, when the case arose he would not 
 really have done so, but she could not but appre 
 ciate the reckless generosity of the thought, and 
 wonder at the possible strength of the love that 
 had prompted it. He had spoken so earnestly and 
 there had been such a perceptible tremor in his 
 voice, that she had been glad when Mrs. Bright s 
 appearance had cut short the interview. While 
 she talked indifferently during dinner, her thoughts 
 dwelt on what Ralston had said about Bright s 
 feelings and then went back to Kalston himself, 
 who was almost always present in her reflections. 
 She felt that she should not have felt any surprise 
 if he had spoken as Bright had done. It would 
 
30 THE RALSTONS. 
 
 have been quite natural. She might even have 
 thought of accepting the sacrifice. 
 
 Just then, after a little pause in the conversation, 
 Mrs. Bright suddenly asked her son whether he 
 meant to go out in the evening. 
 
 "No," he answered, promptly. "Not to-night. 
 I wouldn t go anywhere except to the club, and 
 even there well, everybody would be talking and 
 asking questions, and that sort of thing. Besides," 
 he added, "cousin Katharine s here." 
 
 The change of tone as he spoke of Katharine was 
 so apparent that Mrs. Bright smiled a little sadly. 
 Her woman s instinct had told her long ago that 
 her son had very little chance. 
 
 The three had not been long in the library when 
 a servant brought a card to Mrs. Bright. She 
 glanced at it, somewhat surprised by the coming 
 of an unexpected visitor, in these days when even 
 ing visits have disappeared from New York s 
 changeable civilization. 
 
 "It s Archie Wingfield," she said. "Funny!" 
 she exclaimed. "Show Mr. Wingfield in," she 
 said to the servant. 
 
 A moment later Archibald Wingfield entered the 
 room. In spite of himself, he paused a moment as 
 he caught sight of Katharine. 
 
 " Oh ! " he ejaculated, awkwardly, in a low voice. 
 
 Then he came forward, resolutely keeping his 
 Bold black eyes on Mrs. Bright s face as he went 
 
THE EALSTONS. 31 
 
 up to her and shook hands. Katharine had under 
 stood the exclamation of astonishment, and felt 
 the awkwardness of the situation. But as she 
 had given up all hope of seeing Ealston alone that 
 evening, she thought it was as well, on the whole, 
 that some one else should have come to help the 
 general conversation. Nevertheless, she would 
 have chosen almost any one rather than her last 
 rejected suitor. 
 
 Both she and Hamilton Bright watched the 
 young fellow with involuntary admiration as he 
 crossed the room and stood exchanging first words 
 with Mrs. Bright. There is a fascination about 
 physical superiority when it far outdoes all its 
 surroundings and is altogether beyond competi 
 tion which, perhaps, no other attraction exercises 
 in the same degree at first sight. 
 
 Wingfield came to Katharine next. The rich 
 blood rose in his brown cheeks. 
 
 "I didn t know you were here," he said, simply. 
 
 "Excuse my left hand," she answered, quietly, 
 as she extended it. "I ve had a little accident." 
 
 Wingfield started perceptibly. The expression 
 in his black eyes changed to one of the deepest 
 anxiety, and the blush slowly ebbed from his 
 face. 
 
 "An accident?" he stammered. 
 
 "Oh nothing serious," she answered, touched 
 by the evident strength of his feeling. "It s only 
 
32 THE RALSTONS. 
 
 the small bone of my right arm. I fell down yes 
 terday and broke it. It s in splints, of course, so 
 I have to use my left." 
 
 "And you re you re not taking care of your 
 self? With a broken arm?" He seemed amazed, 
 not having had much experience of broken limbs 
 
 his own were solid. "But you ought to be at 
 home " 
 
 Katharine laughed a little. 
 
 "I m staying here with aunt Maggie," she an 
 swered. " I could scarcely have any better care, 
 could I?" 
 
 "Oh I see. Yes." But he did not seem 
 satisfied. 
 
 He turned to Bright, shook hands, and then sat 
 down. 
 
 " You must think it awfully funny my drop 
 ping in, in this way," he said, recovering the self- 
 possession which naturally belonged to his charac 
 ter. " The fact is, I was going to dine out, and at 
 the last minute the people sent to tell me not to 
 come, because they ve had a little fire in the 
 dining-room, and everything s flooded and uncom 
 fortable, and they were going to picnic somewhere 
 
 or something. So I dined at the club, and I m 
 going to see the last act of that play with the 
 horses in it, you know so I thought you wouldn t 
 mind if I asked leave to spend half an hour with 
 you on the way." 
 
THE RALSTONS. 33 
 
 "Why, of course not!" cried Mrs. Bright. 
 "I m delighted. You must help us to amuse 
 Katharine. She s rather gloomy, poor child 
 with her arm, and all she s been through. She 
 was staying with poor Mr. Lauderdale when he 
 died so suddenly." 
 
 "Yes it s awfully sad," answered Wingfield, 
 with appropriate solemnity, and wondering 
 whether he should congratulate the Brights upon 
 the inheritance. "As for amusing Miss Lauder 
 dale," he continued, "I wish I could. But I m 
 not a very amusing person not a bit." 
 
 "Perhaps we can amuse you, instead," sug 
 gested Katharine, by way of saying something. 
 
 " Oh, no thanks you re very kind, " answered 
 the young man, confusedly. "You know my 
 brothers always call me the family idiot. They re 
 always chaffing me because I don t know languages 
 and things. I say, Bright you re clever do 
 you know a lot of languages ? " 
 
 "I? No, indeed!" answered Bright, with a 
 short laugh. " I don t know anything particular 
 
 except about cattle and horses, and something 
 about banking. I ve had a modern education! 
 How should I know anything? " 
 
 " Oh, hang it all I mean I beg your pardon 
 
 but what a thing to say ! " 
 
 "It s mere nonsense," observed Mrs. Bright. 
 "Ham knows everything in a useful way. But 
 
 VOL. II. 3 
 
34 THE BALSTONS. 
 
 he s always railing at modern education, and tell 
 ing me that it s ruined his mind. He s not sensi 
 ble about that. Really you re not, Ham," she 
 added, with emphasis. 
 
 "Education s meant for the common herd, 
 mother," answered Bright. "Fools are better 
 without it, bankers don t need it, and geniuses can 
 do better." 
 
 "That s rather good," said Katharine, thought 
 fully. " With which do you class yourself? " she 
 asked, with a laugh. 
 
 " Well being neither a genius nor a fool, I 
 have to be content with being a banker." 
 
 " I say are lawyers part of the common herd, 
 Bright? " enquired Wingfield. 
 
 "Not if you re going to be one, my dear boy," 
 answered the elder man. " But I hope you re not 
 going to nail me out on my statement like an owl 
 over a stable door. It s not kind. It s much 
 nicer to be misunderstood in a friendly way than to 
 have all one s friends up on their hind legs trying 
 to understand one, when one hasn t meant any 
 thing particular. By Jove! There goes the bell 
 again! I wonder who it is?" 
 
 "What ears you have! " exclaimed Mrs. Bright. 
 "I didn t hear anything. But it must be Jack 
 Ralston. He d come early, you know." 
 
 Katharine glanced surreptitiously at the two 
 men, leaning back in her chair with half-closed 
 
THE RALSTONS. 35 
 
 eyes. Bright s expression became a little more 
 set, and he moved one foot uneasily. Wingfield 
 looked at Mrs. Bright as she spoke, and then 
 straight at Katharine. Ralston entered in a dead 
 silence, glanced quickly at Wingfield, greeted 
 every one in turn, in the quiet, easy way peculiar 
 to him, which was quite different from Bright s 
 slow and rather heavy manner, and from Archi 
 bald Wingfield s physical style, so to say, which 
 showed itself in long, swift, powerful movements, 
 like the great stride of a magnificent hunter going 
 along in the open. 
 
 "You ll be tired of the sight of me to-day," 
 said Ralston, smiling as he sat down near Mrs. 
 Bright. 
 
 "No fear of that, Jack," answered Bright, anx 
 ious to show Katharine that he was not displeased 
 at Ralston s coming. "My mother always looks 
 upon you as a sort of second son." 
 
 "The prodigal son," suggested John. 
 
 " Is that a hint to produce the fatted calf? " 
 asked Bright. " Or have you dined? You don t 
 look as though you had." 
 
 "Why? What s the matter with me? I ve just 
 come from dinner. I dined at home with my 
 mother." 
 
 "You re rather lean for a man who dines every 
 day," laughed Bright. "That s all. I believe 
 you starve in secret. You re afraid of getting fat, 
 
36 THE RALSTONS. 
 
 Jack that s the truth. Confess it! You think 
 it wouldn t be romantic." 
 
 "I wish you would get a little fatter, Jack," said 
 Katharine. "You d be much nicer, I m sure." 
 
 The remark might have been natural enough 
 between two cousins, both young. But there was 
 a subtle suggestion of proprietorship, or at least of 
 belonging to one another, in the tone of her voice, 
 which jarred on Wingfield s ear. He was by no 
 means dull nor slow of perception, in spite of what 
 he had said of himself. As an athlete, however, 
 he took up the question. 
 
 " You d be stronger if you were a little heavier, 
 Ralston," he said. "Do you go in for oatmeal 
 when you train?" 
 
 " Oh I haven t trained since I was at college. 
 I never bothered much. But I don t like stodgy 
 things like porridge. I was a running man, you 
 know. I don t believe it makes a particle of differ 
 ence what one eats." 
 
 " Oh, I do ! " Katharine exclaimed, anxious to 
 make the conversation move. " I like some things 
 and I don t like others." 
 
 "What, for instance?" asked Bright. "What 
 do you like best to eat and then afterwards, what 
 other things do you like best in the world? That s 
 interesting. If you ll tell us, we ll get them for 
 you right off." 
 
 "I should think you could, between you," said 
 
THE EALSTONS. 37 
 
 Mrs. Bright, glancing round at the three goodly 
 men, and wondering whether Wingfield was as 
 much in love with Katharine as the other two. 
 
 "What I like? let me see," said Katharine. 
 " I like simple things to eat. I hate peppermints, 
 for instance. My mother lives on them. I like 
 plain things, generally fish and game. Truffles 
 that s another thing I detest. Aunt Maggie 
 never can understand why. She says there s some 
 thing mysterious in a truffle, that appeals to her." 
 
 "They re so good!" exclaimed Mrs. Bright. 
 "Big black ones in a napkin with fresh butter. 
 But it s quite true. There s a sort of mystery in 
 a truffle. It s like love, you know." 
 
 Everybody laughed at what seemed the fantastic 
 irrelevancy of the comparison Bright laughing 
 louder than the rest. 
 
 "How do you make that out?" he asked. "It 
 would be rather a grimy, earthy sort of love, I 
 should think." 
 
 " Explain, aunt Maggie ! " laughed Katharine. 
 
 "A truffle s a cryptogam," said Bright. "No 
 body has ever explained about cryptogams." 
 
 "What is a cryptogam?" asked Katharine. 
 "I ve always wanted to know." 
 
 "Cryptogam means secret marriage, or some 
 thing of the sort, " said Wingfield. 
 
 Katharine started a little and glanced at John 
 Ralston. 
 
38 THE RALSTONS. 
 
 "Yes," said the latter. "It s equivalent to say 
 ing that nobody knows how they grow. But that 
 doesn t at all explain what aunt Maggie means 
 by what she said. Come, aunt Maggie, we re all 
 waiting for you to tell us." 
 
 " Oh I m getting so sleepy, my dears, don t 
 ask me to explain things ! You know I m always 
 sleepy in the evening. It s taking an unfair ad 
 vantage of me! Why is love like a truffle? Why, 
 exactly for that reason because nobody can pos 
 sibly tell when it begins, or how, or why or any 
 thing about it. Only, when you find it, you ve 
 found something worth having. As for secret mar 
 riages wasn t it you who mentioned them just 
 now, Mr. Wingfield? Yes well, they re very 
 romantic and unpractical and pretty, but I should 
 think the people would find it a great nuisance. 
 It s much better to run away, and be done with it." 
 
 Ralston s eyes met Katharine s, and he sup 
 pressed a smile, but in her pale face the colour 
 was rising slowly. Again the door opened, and 
 two men entered the room unannounced. The 
 servant had taken it for granted that as two visit 
 ors had been admitted, he might admit as many 
 more as came. Paul Griggs, the author, and Wal 
 ter Crowd ie, the artist, came forward into the 
 bright light. Crowdie has been already described. 
 Griggs was a lean, strong, grey-haired, plain- 
 featured man of fifty, a gaunt, bony, weather- 
 
THE RALSTONS. 39 
 
 beaten man, who had lived in many countries and 
 had seen many interesting sights but none so 
 interesting, people had been saying lately, as Kath 
 arine Lauderdale s face. It was commonly said 
 that he was in love with the girl, and people added 
 that at his age it was ridiculous, and that he was 
 making a fool of himself. 
 
 Crowdie, as the son-in-law of the house, and 
 one of the numerous persons who called Mrs. 
 Bright aunt/ came forward first, to shake hands 
 and explain the visit. 
 
 " I was going to make an apology for coming in 
 without warning, aunt Maggie, "he said. "Griggs 
 dined with us, and we re going to see the last act 
 of that play with the horses in it you know 
 and as it s too early, we thought we d ring the bell 
 and call. But as you ve got a party, I suppose 
 you accept the apology. At least, I hope you 
 will." 
 
 " You re very welcome, Walter glad to see 
 you, Mr. Griggs." Mrs. Bright beamed. "It is 
 a party isn t it? Why, there are five men in 
 the room. Let s all go and see the last act of the 
 play with the horses, and come back to supper! 
 Oh I forgot and Katharine, too, with her 
 broken arm. But Mr. Wingfield s going to it by 
 and by." 
 
 "Yes," said Wingfield. "I m going. We ll 
 walk up together." 
 
40 THE R ALSTONS. 
 
 Both Griggs and Crowdie had already heard of 
 Katharine s accident and were asking her about it, 
 before Mrs. Bright had finished speaking. Pres 
 ently the new-comers got seats, and the circle 
 widened to admit them as they sat clown. 
 
 "I m sure we interrupted some delightful con 
 versation," said Griggs, breaking the momentary 
 silence. "Won t you go on?" 
 
 "My mother was explaining her views upon 
 secret marriages," said Bright. "She d just been 
 comparing love to a truffle." 
 
 " Truffle cryptogam secret marriage love," 
 said Griggs, gravely. "Very natural sequence of 
 ideas. The interesting link is the secret marriage." 
 
 "Yes, isn t it?" assented young Wingfield. 
 "What do you think about it, Mr. Griggs? " 
 
 "What were you saying about it?" asked the 
 man of letters, cautiously. 
 
 "No what do you think about it?" insisted 
 Mrs. Bright. " We hadn t said anything especial." 
 
 "Is anybody present secretly married?" en 
 quired Griggs, with a pleasant laugh. "No 
 exactly then I shouldn t advise any of you to try 
 it. I did once " 
 
 " You ! " exclaimed two or three voices at once, 
 and in surprise. 
 
 "Yes on paper, in a book, with my paper 
 dolls. I never want to do it again. It had awful 
 consequences." 
 
THE EALSTONS. 41 
 
 "Why, what do you mean?" asked Mrs. Bright. 
 
 "Oh nothing! I fell in love with the heroine 
 myself from writing about her, killed the hero out 
 of jealousy, and blew out my brains in the end 
 because she wouldn t have me. I suppose it was 
 natural, considering what I d done, but I took my 
 revenge. I put her into a convent of Carmelite 
 nuns. It was so awkward afterwards. I wanted 
 her in another book because I was in love with 
 her but as she was a Carmelite, she couldn t get 
 out respectably, so she s there still. It s an awful 
 bore." 
 
 Even Katharine, who had felt the blood rising 
 again in her cheeks, laughed at the simple, natural 
 regret expressed in Griggs face as he spoke. 
 
 "Yes," said Bright. "That s all very well in a 
 novel. But in real life it s quite different. I 
 think a man who does that kind of tiling is a cad, 
 myself." 
 
 "So do I," said Archibald Wingfield, impetu 
 ously. "A howling cad, you know." 
 
 "It s an unnecessary piece of presumption to 
 suppose that the world cares what one does," said 
 Crowdie, who had not spoken yet. " And it com 
 plicates things abominably to be married and not 
 married at the same time. Shouldn t you think 
 so, Miss Lauderdale? " he asked, turning his head 
 towards Katharine as he spoke. 
 
 "I? Oh I ve no opinion in the matter," an- 
 
42 THE EALSTONS. 
 
 swered Katharine, looking away, and feeling very 
 uncomfortable. 
 
 "I don t agree with either of you," said Ralston, 
 slowly. "It depends entirely on circumstances. 
 There are cases where it s the only thing to do, if 
 people really love each other. I don t think any 
 one has a right to say that a man s a cad simply 
 because he s married his wife secretly. A man s 
 a much worse cad who marries a girl for her money, 
 and doesn t care for her, than any man who gets 
 secretly married for real love and you all know 
 it." 
 
 Ralston could not help speaking rather aggres 
 sively. 
 
 " Look out for the family temper ! " laughed 
 Walter Crowdie, in his exquisitely musical 
 voice. 
 
 "We re all more or less of the family here," 
 answered Ralston, "except Mr. Griggs and Wing- 
 held. Not that we re likely to get angry about 
 such a question," he added, with an attempt at 
 indifference. "What I say is that it s a monstrous 
 injustice to call a man a cad on such grounds." 
 
 " Oh all right, Jack ! " cried Bright. " If ever 
 you get secretly married, we won t say you re a 
 cad. But in most cases well, I d rather hear 
 Griggs talk about it than talk myself. He s an 
 expert in love affairs on paper, as he says. Say 
 what you really think, Griggs. Wingfield and I 
 
THE RALSTONS. 43 
 
 can hold Ralston between us if he shows signs of 
 being dangerous." 
 
 "I think I could help myself, in a modest way," 
 said Mr. Griggs, with a quiet smile. " I used to 
 be pretty strong once." 
 
 He made the remark merely in the hope of turn 
 ing the conversation. Wingfield, as an athlete 
 and a young Hercules, could not hear any allusion 
 made to physical strength without taking it up and 
 discussing it. 
 
 "Were you a boating man, Mr. Griggs?" he 
 enquired, with sudden interest. 
 
 "No. I never pulled in a race." 
 
 " I suppose you went in for long distance run 
 ning, then. You re made for it," he added, 
 rather patronizingly and glancing at the man s 
 sinewy figure. 
 
 "No. I never ran in a race," answered the lit 
 erary man. 
 
 "Oh I supposed, when you spoke, that you d 
 gone in for athletics formerly, " said Wingfield, 
 disappointed. 
 
 "No I wasn t educated in places where athlet 
 ics were the fashion at that time. I was strong 
 that s all. I could do things with my hands that 
 other people couldn t." 
 
 "Could you?" Katharine saw that the original 
 subject was dropping, and encouraged the dull con 
 versation which had taken its place. "What 
 
44 THE EALSTONS. 
 
 could you do with your hands?" she asked, with 
 an air of interest. "They look strong. Could 
 you roll up silver plates into holders for bouquets, 
 like Count Orloff?" 
 
 " I think I could do it," Griggs answered, quietly. 
 " But nobody ever wanted to waste a silver plate 
 on me." 
 
 "It s not easy, I should think," said young 
 Wingfield. " I know I couldn t do it." 
 
 "I m sure you could," said Katharine, turning 
 to him. "You must be tremendously strong. But 
 can t you do something else with your hands, Mr. 
 Griggs? I like to see those things. They amuse 
 me." 
 
 Griggs was the last man in the world to wish 
 to show off his qualities, physical or mental, but 
 on the present occasion he could not resist the 
 temptation. He never knew afterwards why he 
 had yielded, and attributed his weakness to the 
 inborn desire to excel in the eyes of women, which 
 is in every man. 
 
 "Have you a pack of cards?" he asked, turning 
 to Bright. " If you have, I ll show you something 
 that may amuse you." 
 
 Bright was a whist player, and immediately 
 brought a pack from a remote corner of the room 
 and put it into Griggs hands. 
 
 "Now there s no deception, as the conjurers 
 say," he began, with a laugh, looking first at 
 
THE EALSTONS. 45 
 
 Katharine, and then at Wingfield, as the strong 
 man of the party. "Perhaps you can do it, Mr. 
 Wingfield?" he added. 
 
 "What? Tricks with cards? No I m not 
 good at that sort of thing." 
 
 "Well it isn t exactly a trick. I m going to 
 tear the pack in two. Did you ever see it done?" 
 
 " No, " answered Wingfield, incredulously. " I ve 
 heard of it but I don t believe it s possible, if 
 you tear it fairly." 
 
 " Is this fair? Have I got a fair hold on them? " 
 
 "Yes that s all right. I don t believe any 
 body can do it that way." 
 
 "Well look." 
 
 Griggs set his teeth a little as he made the 
 effort, and the furrows in the weather-beaten face 
 deepened a little, but that was all. The sinews 
 stood out on the backs of his hands for a few 
 seconds, and his hands moved, the one downwards, 
 the other up. The pack was torn clean in two. 
 
 " By Jove ! " exclaimed Bright. " I never saw 
 that done." 
 
 "I wouldn t have believed it," said Wingfield. 
 "I ve often tried. It s perfectly magnificent! " 
 
 "I ll avoid you in a fight," observed Kalston, 
 laughing. 
 
 Crowdie had looked on with curiosity, but he 
 had watched Griggs face rather than his hands, 
 comparing it with a picture of Samson pulling 
 
46 THE R ALSTONS. 
 
 down the pillars, which rose in his memory. He 
 came to the conclusion that the man who had 
 painted the picture had never seen a great feat 
 of strength. 
 
 "It looks so easy," said Katharine. "But it 
 must be awfully hard." 
 
 " There s a good story the peasants tell in Kussia 
 about Peter the Great," said Griggs. "He was 
 hunting. His horse lost a shoe, and he stopped at 
 a wayside smith s. The smith made a shoe while 
 Peter waited. Peter took it, tried it in his hands, 
 broke it and threw it into a corner, saying it was 
 bad. The smith made another, and the Czar broke 
 it again, and so on. But he could not break the 
 tenth. The blacksmith asked a rouble for the 
 shoe. Peter gave him one. He broke it in two 
 and threw it into a corner, saying it was bad 
 and so he broke as many roubles as the Czar had 
 broken shoes, and said that the tenth was good. 
 Peter was so much pleased that he made the man 
 a general or something." 
 
 "I suppose you could do that, too, couldn t 
 you? " asked Katharine, looking at the gaunt, grey 
 man with a strong admiration. 
 
 "Oh, yes I ve done it. But it s a strange 
 thing, isn t it, when you think that it s all an 
 illusion?" 
 
 "An illusion!" cried Wingfield, in disappoint 
 ment. "What do you mean? It isn t a trick, 
 surely!" 
 
THE EALSTONS. 47 
 
 "Oh, no! I don t mean that. But all matter is 
 an illusion, isn t it? Nothing s real that isn t 
 permanent." 
 
 "But if matter isn t permanent, what is? " asked 
 Bright. "But I know you have the most ex 
 traordinary ideas about those things." 
 
 "I don t think they re extraordinary. If matter 
 were permanent in the sense you mean, then life 
 would be permanent in the same sense, because 
 we re matter, and we shouldn t die." 
 
CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 YOUNG Wingfield looked at Katharine with an 
 air of entreaty, as though hoping that she, at 
 least, might understand what Mr. Griggs meant. 
 She smiled as she saw his expression, and under 
 stood what was passing in his mind. She was 
 supposed to have seen far more of Griggs during 
 the preceding month than she really had, and she 
 got credit for comprehending, at least, the general 
 drift of his ideas, beyond what she deserved. 
 Wingfield looked at her in vain, and then broke 
 the silence which had followed Griggs last speech. 
 
 " I wish one knew what to believe," he said, 
 formulating the nineteenth century s dying ques 
 tion. " It s not easy, you know, with all these 
 theories about." 
 
 Of the seven persons present there was not one 
 whose convictions really coincided, even approxi 
 mately, with any established form of belief. Yet 
 all belonged to some one of the few principal 
 Christian churches, by birth, early associations 
 and youthful teaching. 
 
 Wingfield s question was received in silence. 
 His bold black eyes glanced from one to another of 
 48 
 
THE EALSTONS. 49 
 
 his companions, and the blood mounted slowly in 
 his healthy brown cheeks, for he was young enough 
 to fancy that some of these might have thought 
 his remark futile or trivial and he did not wish to 
 seem dull before Katharine. 
 
 She found herself in a strange position. By a 
 very natural train of circumstances she was acci 
 dentally set up as a sort of idol that evening 
 before the five men who, of all others, each in his 
 own way, most sincerely loved and admired her. 
 Secretly married to the one of them she loved, 
 two of the others Hamilton Bright and Wing- 
 field wished to marry her. Of the other two, 
 Crowdie, the painter, admired her more than any 
 woman he had ever seen, though he was undoubt 
 edly in love with his wife. Had she been able to 
 understand his admiration, it would have repelled 
 her. Fortunately it was beneath her understand 
 ing. And to Griggs, weather-beaten, overworked, 
 disenchanted of all that the world held, by reason 
 of having had much of it either too early or too 
 late, with his hard head and his dreamy mind 
 and his almost supernaturally strong hands to 
 Griggs she represented something he would not 
 have told then, but something which Katharine 
 need not have been ashamed to hear of, nor her 
 husband to tolerate. Ralston might even have 
 found sympathy for him. 
 
 They all worshipped her in one way or another, 
 
 VOL. II. 4 
 
50 THE EALSTONS. 
 
 though she was a very human girl of her time and 
 place in the world. And somehow, in the silence 
 which followed Griggs speech, broken only by 
 Wingfield s questioning remark, they all turned to 
 her as he had done, as though in her face they 
 sought the lost faith. Hard-headed men, some of 
 them, too, and hard-fisted. The three eldest had 
 each accomplished something. The two younger 
 ones were perhaps on the way. They were rather 
 typical men. 
 
 Katharine was vaguely conscious of their glances, 
 and was the first to speak, after Wingfield. 
 
 " It s what we all feel what half the people 
 we know feel, though they haven t the courage to 
 say it." 
 
 Wingfield looked at her gratefully, conscious that 
 she had justified what he had feared had been a 
 foolish observation. 
 
 " Katharine," said Mrs. Bright, who had not 
 spoken for a long time, "if you re going to talk 
 theology, I shall go to bed like the baron in the 
 Ingoldsby legends. There are no windows to 
 break, and they can t get in do you remember ? 
 So he went to bed and slept soundly through the 
 siege. It s exactly the same with theology, my 
 dear. It s all been discussed a hundred thousand 
 times, and yet nobody ever gets in. There s only 
 one religion the whole world over, and that is, to do 
 the best one can and help other people because 
 
THE RALSTONS. 51 
 
 no one can do better than the best he can, accord 
 ing to what he thinks right. And there s a great 
 deal in soap, my dear. I m sure people feel like 
 better people when they re clean, and as people do 
 what they feel, why, they really are better people. 
 I d like to try free soap in the State of New York 
 for a year, and see whether it didn t improve the 
 criminal statistics." 
 
 "It s a splendid election cry, mother," said 
 Bright. " Soap Something and Stability. 
 We ll try it some day." 
 
 "No, but there s truth in it," protested Mrs. 
 Bright. " Isn t there, Mr. Griggs ? " 
 
 " Of course," answered Griggs, gravely. " Every 
 religion that ever existed has some rules of ablu 
 tion. And there s a lot of truth in the other 
 things you said, Mrs. Bright. Only the trouble is, 
 a code of action what you call doing the best 
 one can doesn t satisfy humanity. The average 
 human being won t do anything for its own sake. 
 He must do it for his own advantage here or 
 hereafter, since people will insist on using that 
 idiotic word." 
 
 "Why idiotic? " asked Wiiigfield, very naturally. 
 
 " Hereafter means a future, and there isn t any 
 such thing, except in a small way, for matter- 
 worlds and such little trifles, which go to pieces 
 every two or three thousand million years." 
 
 " Yes, but the soul if we ve got one." 
 
52 THE RALSTONS. 
 
 Wingfield added the last conditional expression 
 rather sheepishly, as though he suspected that the 
 highly intellectual beings amongst whom he found 
 himself might have done away with such old-fash 
 ioned nonsense as the soul. 
 
 "Of course you ve got a soul," said Griggs, 
 rather impatiently. "But if it s a real soul, it 
 has no weight and no size, and no shape and no 
 colour, nor anything resembling matter nor any 
 thing with which to resemble anything, except 
 other souls. Well, of course you know that time 
 is only conceivable in relation to matter in motion, 
 so that where there isn t any matter, there isn t 
 any time. And where there s no time there can t 
 be portions of time, which are past, present, and 
 future. So the soul has no time, doesn t exist in 
 relation to time, and consequently can t be said to 
 have a hereafter. The body has a hereafter oh, 
 yes it s absorbed into the elements and lives 
 over again thousands of millions of times. But 
 the soul hasn t. It s eternal. If it always is to 
 be, as we say, comparing it to matter, why, then, it 
 always was, by the same comparison. But the 
 fact is, that f it is and there s no more to be 
 said. It is, and as it s indestructible, not being 
 matter, by the hypothesis, nothing can be said of 
 it in that respect except that it is/ You can t 
 say that an axiom, for instance, has a past, present, 
 and future, can you ? Well if the soul s any- 
 
THE EALSTONS. 53 
 
 thing, it s axiomatic. There, I ve bored you to 
 death shall I tear another pack of cards for 
 you, or break silver dollars to amuse you? I ll 
 do anything I m told, now that I ve had my say." 
 
 Griggs laughed quietly and crossed one leg over 
 the other, as he looked at Katharine. 
 
 " You re not a comforting person when one feels 
 religious," she said. 
 
 " No by Jove ! " exclaimed Bright. " You 
 wouldn t have converted the cowboys in the Naci- 
 miento Valley, Griggs. They d have tried their 
 own idea of a hereafter on you quick. That s 
 the trouble with all that metaphysical stuff, or 
 whatever you call it it doesn t say anything to 
 mankind it only talks to professorkind. Unless 
 a fellow s passed a sort of higher standard in 
 terminations, he hasn t the ghost of a chance of 
 spiritual comfort. He couldn t understand the 
 first word of what you talk about." 
 
 "Did I use long words?" asked Griggs, blandly. 
 " I thought I didn t." 
 
 "Well, not exactly long words. I don t mean 
 literally terminations. But you talk another lan 
 guage, somehow. I know I m what they call an 
 educated man, because I once learned some Latin 
 and Greek at a sinful expense of time. But I 
 can t half follow you, even when you use good 
 plain English. The policeman at the corner would 
 march, you off and clap you in jug like a shot if 
 
54 THE RALSTONS. 
 
 you talked to him that way for five minutes. That 
 is, unless you tied him up in a hard knot with 
 those hands of yours, and set him down by the 
 railings to cool. I wouldn t try it, though. I 
 suppose there s a limit to the number of policemen 
 you could strangle with each finger. No joking 
 apart that sort of thing isn t going to take the 
 place of Christianity, you know even as people 
 like us look at what we call Christianity. You ve 
 got to have something to pray for and somebody 
 to pray to, you know, after all." 
 
 " Well," answered Griggs, " there s God to pray 
 to and salvation to pray for." 
 
 " Not in your system without any future," 
 retorted Bright. 
 
 " Oh, yes, there is," replied the other. " You 
 seem to think I m an atheist, or a freethinker, at 
 least though I can t see why, I m sure." 
 
 " Why because " Bright stopped, trying to 
 formulate his accusation. 
 
 Katharine laughed a little, and Wingfield looked 
 from one to the other with a puzzled expression, as 
 though he should have liked to understand better. 
 Griggs proceeded to defend himself. 
 
 "Did I say that there was no soul?" he enquired. 
 " On the contrary, I said that the soul was eternal. 
 Did I say that there was no God ? I said nothing 
 about it. The soul is a part of God, and, therefore, 
 since the part exists, the Whole, of which it is a 
 
THE RALSTONS. 55 
 
 part, exists also. It s my belief, and, therefore, so 
 far as I m concerned, it s fact. Belief is knowledge 
 the ultimate possible knowledge of every man at 
 the moment of asking him what he believes. Did 
 I deny that the soul is happy or unhappy according 
 to its rule of itself ? Not at all, though I didn t 
 try to explain the way in which it strikes me. You 
 might not understand it. But I believe that its 
 happiness or unhappiness is exactly inversely rela 
 tive to the amount of alloy it gets from the things 
 of which it is conscious. As I see them all in my 
 own way, I believe all the articles of faith of my 
 church, and I m a Roman Catholic." 
 
 "Well I don t see how you can," said Bright, 
 discontentedly. 
 
 " You re our dear Buddhist ! " put in Mrs. Bright, 
 with a breadth of toleration peculiar to her, and 
 becoming. " You ve often told me the most delight 
 ful things about Buddhism, and I shall never think 
 of you as anything but a Buddhist." 
 
 " That s a thoroughly logical position, mother ! " 
 laughed Bright. " Stick to it ! " 
 
 "I can t help it if my Christianity seems like 
 Buddhism to you," answered Griggs. "If you 
 knew more about Buddhism, you d see the differ 
 ence very soon. But religion s like love. It 
 affects different people differently. It isn t often 
 that any two people see it in precisely the same 
 light. When they do " 
 
56 THE E ALSTONS. 
 
 He paused, interrupting himself. His tired eyes 
 became suddenly dreamy, as lie stared at the Per 
 sian embroidery that hung before the disused fire 
 place around which they were all sitting. 
 
 " What happens when they do ? " asked Katha 
 rine. 
 
 " What happens, Miss Lauderdale ? How should 
 I know what happens when people who are in love 
 see love in the same light ? I m an old bachelor, 
 you know." He laughed drily, being roused again. 
 
 "You re right about one thing at all events," said 
 Crowdie. "It s not often that two people love 
 in the same way. There are five of us men here, 
 about as radically different from each other as five 
 men could be, I should think. It s quite possible 
 that we may all be more or less in love at the 
 present moment. I m willing to confess that I am. 
 Don t jump, Ham ! I m in love with my wife, and 
 as we re in the family I suppose I may say so, 
 mayn t I ? " 
 
 "You needn t be ashamed of loving Hester, my 
 dear Walter ! " cried Mrs. Bright. 
 
 Bright himself said nothing, but looked curiously 
 at his brother-in-law, whom he disliked in an unac 
 countable way. He had never been able to under 
 stand Griggs apparent attachment to the man. 
 He had heard that when Crowdie had been a young 
 art student in Paris, twelve or fourteen years 
 earlier, Griggs had nursed him through an illness, 
 
THE R ALSTONS. 57 
 
 and had otherwise taken care of him. There was 
 a mystery about it which Hamilton Bright had 
 always wished to solve. According to him, the best 
 thing about Crowdie was his friendship for the 
 literary man. Bright could not fathom its mys 
 tery, any more than he could understand his sis 
 ter s passionate, all-devouring love for Crowdie. 
 The husband and wife were almost inseparable. 
 Such a state of things should have seemed admi 
 rable to the wife s brother, but for some mysterious 
 reason it did not. Bright had almost resented 
 his sister s ardent devotion to a man who seemed 
 to him so unmanly. He always thought that 
 Crowdie, with his soft, pale face and vividly red 
 lips, was like a poisonous tropical flower that 
 would ultimately harm Hester in some unimagina 
 ble way. 
 
 " No I m not ashamed of it," said the painter, 
 in answer to his mother-in-law s remark. " But 
 that isn t the question. What I mean is, that we 
 all love, or should love, in different ways all five 
 of us. Look at us how different we are ! There s 
 Griggs, now. I ve known him half my life and a 
 good bit of his. If he s in love, he s picked out a 
 soul, and then a face, and then a set of ideas out of 
 his extensive collection, and he s sublimated the 
 whole in that old retort of a brain of his, and he s 
 living on the perfume of the essence. Poor old 
 Griggs!" 
 
58 THE ^ALSTONS. 
 
 " Don t pity me, and don t patronize me, Crow- 
 die!" laughed Griggs. "If you offend me, I ll pay 
 you off, you know." 
 
 " I m not frightened but I ve done with you. 
 I ll go on. There s Ralston he s dangerous. 
 He d love like Othello, and lose his temper like 
 Hotspur. As for Bright, he has permanent quali 
 ties. When he s once made up his mind, it makes 
 up him for the rest of his life. Faithful Johnnie, 
 don t you know ? He s a do or die sort of man 
 and with his constitution it means doing and not 
 dying. Wingfield oh, Wingfield s Achilles. An 
 Achilles with black hair only rather more so. 
 With his size, it s lucky for the Trojans that he 
 hasn t got your Lauderdale temper that you re 
 always talking about. Schliemann wouldn t even 
 find the foundations of Troy. Wingfield would 
 pulverize the whole place and use it up for polish 
 ing his weapons. Briseis, or nothing while the 
 mood lasts. I don t mean to say that you re fickle, 
 Wingfield, but you re much too human for an un 
 dying passion, you know." 
 
 " How about yourself ? " enquired young Wing- 
 field. " We ve each had our turn. Don t forget 
 yourself." 
 
 " Oh as for myself I don t know. I ll leave 
 that to you. You can all take your revenge, arid 
 define me, if you like. I ll be patient. I m not 
 aggressive by nature. Besides, I m quite different 
 I mustn t be judged like you other men." 
 
THE RALSTONS. 59 
 
 " And why not ? " enquired Katharine. 
 
 "Why I m an artist. The foundations of my 
 nature are different from yours. I m a skilled 
 workman. It s your business to be more or less 
 skilled thinkers. I do things with my hands, you 
 do things with your brains. The beginning of art 
 is manual, mechanical skill. Any one who s got it 
 enough to be an artist must be something of a 
 materialist. He can t help it, any more than a sur 
 geon can. What s subject to you is object to me 
 so we can t possibly look at the same things in the 
 same way." 
 
 " That s why you re such a confounded material 
 ist ! " exclaimed Griggs. 
 
 " Nonsense !" retorted Crowdie. "You re always 
 saying that matter s an illusion and an idea. I m 
 the real idealist because I go in for matter, which 
 is nothing but a dream, according to you." 
 
 "Of all the consummately impertinent argu 
 ments ! " laughed the man of letters. " You re an 
 arrant humbug, my dear Crowdie." 
 
 t: Since matter s only humbug, I don t mind," 
 rejoined the painter. " That s unanswerable unless 
 you throw up your theory which you won t, for 
 I know you. So you d better leave me and my art 
 to do the best they can together." 
 
 " It seems to me that Crowdie s got rather the 
 better of you," observed Bright. 
 
 " Oh he has. I always admit that the children 
 
60 THE EALSTONS. 
 
 of light haven t a chance against the children of 
 darkness." 
 
 "That s an argument <ad hominem, " observed 
 Crowdie. " It s your way of throwing up the 
 sponge." 
 
 " Hit him again ! " laughed Bright. " Turn the 
 other theoretical cheek to the smiter, Griggs ! " 
 
 " He s afraid of me, all the same," retorted 
 Griggs. " These materialists are the most super 
 stitious people alive. He believes that I learned 
 all sorts of queer things in the East, and that I 
 could roll up his shadow, like Peter Schlemil s, and 
 destroy his Totem, and generally make his life a 
 burden to him by translating The Owl and the 
 Pussy Cat into Arabic, and pouring ink into my 
 hand, and all that. You know you do." 
 
 " Yes," answered Crowdie. " I confess that I m 
 what you call superstitious. I m inclined to believe 
 in things like magic and spells like John Welling 
 ton Wells. Since your matter s all a dream, it 
 can t take much to blur it, and make it move about 
 and change and behave oddly. Oh, yes I believe 
 in the spirits of the four elements, and all that 
 or if I don t, I d like to." 
 
 " What good would it do you ? " asked Wingfield, 
 bluntly. 
 
 "Good? It isn t a question of good, it s a 
 question of beauty. I want to believe that beau 
 tiful things have a consciousness and a sort of 
 
THE RALSTONS. 61 
 
 power of their own, a special perishable soul 
 the sort of soul that Lucretius talks about. I m 
 quite willing to think that they may have an 
 immortal soul, too, but what concerns me is the 
 perishable one, that suffers and enjoys and speaks 
 in the eyes and sighs in the voice." 
 
 Crowdie knew what he was talking about. In 
 painting, his talent lay chiefly in expressing that 
 perishable, passionate animation which is in every 
 human face. And so far as the voice was con 
 cerned, his own was remarkable, and the few who 
 ever heard him sing were almost inclined to ask 
 whether he had not mistaken his vocation and 
 erred in not becoming a public singer. It is not 
 an uncommon thing to find painters who have 
 beautiful voices. Gustave Dore, for instance, 
 might have earned both reputation and fortune 
 as a tenor. 
 
 "I m afraid you re an incorrigible heathen, 
 Walter," said Mrs. Bright. "I wonder you 
 haven t set up gods and goddesses all over your 
 house you and Hester with little tripods be 
 fore them, and garlands and perfumes like Tade- 
 ma s pictures, you know." 
 
 "You can t symbolize matter, aunt Maggie," 
 laughed Crowdie. " If you do, you get entangled 
 with the ideal again, and your symbol turns into 
 an idol. The Greek statues were meant for por 
 traits of gods and goddesses, not for symbols. So 
 
62 THE R ALSTONS. 
 
 were the pictures and the images of the early 
 church portraits of divine and holy personages. 
 The moment such things become symbols, there s 
 a revulsion, and they turn into idols. 7 
 
 "That s a profound thought, Crowdie," said 
 Griggs. "I don t believe you ever hit on it by 
 yourself." 
 
 " Well it s in my consciousness, anyhow, and 
 I don t know where it comes from," answered the 
 painter. "I suppose it s part of my set of ideas 
 about matter." 
 
 " It all seems to me very abstruse," said Wing- 
 field, who was considerably bored by the discus 
 sion, to Katharine, who was listening. 
 
 "No," she answered, quickly. "I like it. It 
 interests me." 
 
 She had only glanced at him, but she had real 
 ized at once that he was still wholly occupied with 
 herself. There was a wistful, longing regret in 
 his black eyes just then which she understood well 
 enough. She was sincerely sorry for him, and 
 would have done anything reasonable in her power 
 to comfort him. As he turned from her she looked 
 at him again with an expression which might have 
 been interpreted to mean an affectionate pity, 
 though she had certainly never got so far as to 
 feel anything approaching to affection for the 
 magnificent youth. Almost immediately she was 
 conscious that both Ralston and Bright were 
 
THE RALSTONS. 63 
 
 watching her during the momentary pause in the 
 conversation. 
 
 " Why are you both looking at me like that ? " 
 she asked, innocently glancing from one to the 
 other. 
 
 Oh nothing ! " answered Bright, colouring 
 suddenly and turning his eyes away. "I didn t 
 know I was staring." 
 
 Ralston said nothing in reply to her question, 
 but transferred his gaze from her to Wingfield, 
 with something not unlike envy in his look. Few 
 men could look at Wingfield without feeling a 
 little envious of his outward being, and Ralston 
 was a man singularly devoid of personal vanity, 
 like his mother. 
 
 " I wish I could paint you all ! " exclaimed 
 Crowdie, suddenly. 
 
 " That s a large order," observed Bright, with a 
 smile. 
 
 "You ve all got such lots in your faces to-night," 
 continued the artist, with an odd enthusiasm. 
 " There must be something in the air well, that 
 doesn t mean anything, of course but it s very 
 strange." 
 
 " What s strange ? " asked Katharine. 
 
 " Oh I can t exactly explain. There s an un 
 usual air about us all, as though we were under 
 pressure and rather inclined to do eccentric things. 
 I could paint it, but I can t possibly put it in words." 
 
64 THE E ALSTONS. 
 
 "I suppose I m not sensitive," said Wingfield 
 to Katharine. " I don t notice anything particular, 
 do you ? At least not outside, you know," he 
 added, quickly, being all at once conscious of some 
 thing he had not been aware of a moment earlier. 
 
 " I know what he means," answered Katharine. 
 "I feel it myself. But then I m tired and I 
 suppose I m nervous." 
 
 "There s a queer, mythological atmosphere 
 about," Crowdie was saying. 
 
 " It s what we ve been talking about," said Mrs. 
 Bright. "We re all so completely mixed on the 
 subject of time and space and things like that, that 
 we re just ready to believe in ghosts, and turn 
 tables, and make idiots of ourselves." 
 
 " What a barbarian you are, aunt Maggie ! " 
 cried Crowdie, looking round at his mother-in-law. 
 "You d take the poetry out of the Nine Muses. 
 Not that I meant anything poetical. It s much 
 more a sort of creepy, dreamy, undefinable sensa 
 tion. Yes perhaps you re right after all. I 
 shouldn t be surprised if one of us saw a ghost 
 to-night." 
 
 " What will you bet ? " enquired Ham, with the 
 slow, western emphasis he could assume when he 
 chose. 
 
 " You re insufferable ! " exclaimed Crowdie. 
 " Fancy betting on seeing ghosts ! You re worse 
 than aunt Maggie. The only man who under- 
 
THE RALSTONS. 65 
 
 stands me is Griggs. Griggs, you do understand, 
 don t you ? " 
 
 There was something petulant and almost 
 womanish in his tone, which struck all four men 
 disagreeably, though perhaps none of them could 
 or would have told why. 
 
 " Don t talk ! " answered Griggs. " When you 
 want people to understand you, paint or sing. 
 You only make a mess of it when you try to 
 explain what you feel in English. You re a good 
 painter and you sing like an angel, but you re a 
 bad talker." 
 
 " That s said because I got the better of you in 
 talking just now," retorted Crowdie, who did not 
 seem in the least annoyed. 
 
 "Oh, don t begin sparring again, for heaven s 
 sake ! " exclaimed Bright. " Cousin Katharine s 
 tired to death of hearing you two righting. Sing 
 something, Walter. It s much better." 
 
 " Oh, no ! " answered Crowdie. " Oh, no ! I can t 
 sing, thank you. I never sing at parties as they 
 call it." 
 
 " You don t call this a party, do you ? " enquired 
 Bright. "Don t be silly. We all want to hear 
 you. You re not the common amateur who has 
 to be begged and flattered and cajoled, and praised 
 afterwards. You can sing when you choose, and 
 we all want you to." 
 
 "No. I d rather not," said the painter, with a 
 
 VOL. II. 5 
 
66 THE E ALSTONS. 
 
 change of tone, as though he were very much in 
 earnest. 
 
 "I wish you would!" Katharine, for the 
 moment, really longed to hear the wonderful 
 voice. 
 
 " Do you ? " asked Crowdie. 
 
 There was a hesitation in his tone which sug 
 gested the idea that he had perhaps been waiting 
 for Katharine to ask him, in order to yield to the 
 request. Instantly the young girl was aware that 
 the eyes of Ralston and Bright were upon her. 
 Griggs had turned his head and was watching 
 Crowdie curiously. Mrs. Bright looked at him, 
 too, hesitated, and then spoke. 
 
 " I really think that promise you made Hester 
 was too absurd, Walter ! " she said. 
 
 " What promise ? " asked Katharine, quickly. 
 
 "Not to sing for any one but her," said Mrs. 
 Bright, before Crowdie could interrupt her. " Hes 
 ter told me." 
 
 Everybody looked at Crowdie and smiled at the 
 sentimentality. His soft eyes glanced disagreeably 
 at his mother-in-law for a moment, and the smile 
 on his red lips did not conceal his annoyance. 
 
 "Besides," continued Mrs. Bright, "if Katha 
 rine asks you, 1 think you might really, it s too 
 silly of Hester." 
 
 " Oh ! " exclaimed Katharine, " I don t want you 
 to break any promise, Mr. Crowdie especially 
 
THE R ALSTONS. 67 
 
 one you ve made to Hester. She d never forgive 
 me. Please don t sing some time when she s 
 here perhaps " 
 
 But at once she again felt Ralston s glance and 
 Bright s. She wondered why they looked at her 
 so often. 
 
 "Well then, it isn t Katharine who asks you," 
 said Mrs. Bright. "I do. I ll be responsible to 
 Hester. I know she won t mind, if it s for me. 
 Now, Walter, do ! Just to please me ! " 
 
 Crowdie said nothing. He turned his eyes upon 
 her and then to Katharine s face. But, feeling 
 uncomfortably as though she were being watched 
 for some reason which she could not understand, 
 Katharine was looking down, nervously pulling 
 at a thread in the lace which covered her right 
 arm. 
 
 Wingfield was sitting on one side of her, in one 
 of those naturally graceful attitudes which athletes 
 assume without thought or care, one elbow on his 
 knee as he bent forward, supporting his chin upon 
 his in-turned hand, his resolute young face turned 
 towards Crowdie, his black eyes somewhat sad and 
 shadowy. On Katharine s other side sat Ralston, 
 nervous, moody, ready to spring, as it were, for he 
 had not yet recovered from his anger at what had 
 been said about secret marriages. Next to him 
 was Bright, upright in his straight-backed chair, 
 his heavy arms folded on his full chest, his round 
 
68 THE RALSTONS. 
 
 head thrown back, his clear blue eyes fixed on 
 Katharine s face. 
 
 As she looked up again, she had a strong impres 
 sion of being surrounded by splendid wild animals. 
 Wingfield was the tiger, colossally lithe, brown, 
 black, and golden ; Ralston the panther, less in 
 strength, but lighter to spring, quicker to see, per 
 haps more cruel; Bright the lion, fair, massive, 
 dominant, silent in his strength. Griggs was a 
 wolf, grey, old, tough, destined to die hard some 
 day without a cry. And Crowdie with his 
 woman s eyes, his soft, clear voice, his delicate 
 white hands, his repellent pallor, and wound- 
 like lips Katharine thought of neither man nor 
 beast. Even in the midst of her dream of wild 
 animals, he was Crowdie still, with a mysterious, 
 indescribable, poisonous something in all his being 
 which made it a suffering for her to touch his 
 hand. To this something, whatever it might be, 
 she preferred her father s cruel avarice, her 
 mother s envy, heartless as it had been while it 
 lasted. To it she would have preferred a drunk 
 ard s trembling hand and lip. John Kalston s un 
 governable temper was immeasurably preferable to 
 that, or her sister s mean pride and petty vanity. 
 There was no weakness or sin, scarcely any crime 
 of which her maiden heart had dreamed with hor 
 ror, which she would not have met and faced and 
 seen in its bare ugliness, rather than that unknown 
 
THE RALSTONS. 69 
 
 something of which the existence was a certainty 
 when Crowdie was near her. 
 
 In the dead silence of the moment the very 
 faintest sound would have been loud. Whether 
 they admitted it or not, they were none of them 
 just then in a natural or normal state of nerves, 
 except perhaps Mrs. Bright, whose supernal calm 
 was not easily disturbed. Each one of the five 
 men was thinking in his own way of Katharine, 
 and of all she might be to him. The great passion 
 was there, five-fold, and it made itself felt in the 
 very air of the quiet room. 
 
 Then a soft vibration, as of a soul far off, mur 
 muring to itself, just trembled and felt its way 
 amongst them, like the promise of a caress. And 
 again it came, more strongly, more clear, floating 
 in the soft air and taking life in it, and stealing to 
 the heart with a tender, backward-reaching regret, 
 with a low, passionate looking forward to things of 
 love yet to come. 
 
 Crowdie was singing. He had not changed his 
 position as he sat in his chair, and he had scarcely 
 raised his face. There was no effort, no outward 
 striving for art, no searching for effect. The notes 
 floated from his lips as though he thought them 
 rather than as though they were produced by any 
 human means, rising, sinking, with ever varying 
 colour, tone, and meaning, ringing, as he sang, like 
 an angel s clarion tones, sighing, as he breathed 
 them, like the whole world s love-dream. 
 
70 THE R ALSTONS. 
 
 Then time, too, sank away into dreamland. 
 Before Katharine s closed eyes rose Lohengrin, 
 silver-armed floated the mystic swan clashed 
 the clanging swords. And then, moonbeams, the 
 passionate, great, spell-ruled love the question 
 and its horror of endless parting the rush of the 
 destroyers to the bridal chamber, the last, the very 
 last farewell, and out through the misty portals of 
 the dream floated again the fatal, lordly swan, with 
 arching neck, bearing away, spirit-like, the last 
 breath of love from Elsa s life. 
 
 None of them could have told how long he sang, 
 for time was away in dreamland, and passion s 
 weary eyes drooped and saw not the pain. 
 
CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 KATHARINE felt considerable hesitation about 
 going to see Mrs. Ralston after John had told her 
 that he had confided the secret of their marriage 
 to his mother. She knew very well that they must 
 meet before long, as they often did, and she felt 
 that, since Mrs. Ralston knew the truth, it would be 
 very disagreeable if the meeting took place in the 
 presence of other persons. So far as any formality 
 was concerned, too, it would naturally have been 
 her duty to go and see her mother-in-law, though, 
 in consideration of the young girl s broken arm, 
 any such questions of courtesy could well be over 
 looked. 
 
 Katharine s sensations as she looked forward to 
 the interview could not easily be described. She 
 was, as usual, in a very exceptional position, for 
 she was so placed that she should have to make 
 something like an apology to Mrs. Ralston for 
 having married John against his will. There was 
 something absurd in the idea, and Katharine smiled, 
 alone in her room, as she thought of it. 
 
 She was tired with all she had been through, and 
 she put off the difficult moment rather weakly, 
 71 
 
72 THE EALSTONS. 
 
 telling herself that she would surely write and 
 make an appointment on the following day, when 
 she had collected herself and thought it all over. 
 She was fond of Mrs. Ralston, and knew that her 
 liking was returned. Mrs. Ralston had made her 
 understand that well enough, and John had taken 
 pleasure in telling her that his mother never wished 
 him to marry any one else. Nevertheless Katha 
 rine felt shy and awkward, and was afraid of saying 
 too much or too little. 
 
 Mrs. Ralston herself cut short all hesitation and 
 came to see Katharine at the Brights , and found 
 her in her little sitting-room upstairs. The young 
 girl was taken by surprise, as the elder woman had 
 followed the servant and entered almost as soon as 
 she had been announced. 
 
 " Oh Mrs. Ralston ! " she cried, sitting up on 
 the lounge on which she had been lying after 
 luncheon. 
 
 They exchanged greetings. Mrs. Ralston made 
 her lie down again and sat beside her. There was 
 a moment s silence. 
 
 " I m so glad you ve come," said Katharine, break 
 ing the ice. 
 
 " Of course I ve come ! " answered Mrs. Ralston. 
 li If you d not had this dreadful accident, you d 
 have come to me ; but as it is, I ve come to you, 
 since we wanted to see each other." 
 
 There was not much in what she said, but it gave 
 
THE RALSTONS. 73 
 
 Katharine courage, which was precisely what the 
 elder woman wished to do. That was one of her 
 few secrets. She knew how to make what was the 
 best thing to be done seem altogether natural, and 
 even easy, for those who had to do it, while avoiding 
 the appearance of ever giving advice unless it were 
 asked of her. That is the rare gift of those who 
 really influence others in the world. Their art lies 
 in going so straight as to make any way but their 
 own seem crooked by comparison. 
 
 "Yes," said Katharine, "I wanted to see you 
 very much. The fact is " she hesitated and she 
 felt the colour rising in her cheeks, though Mrs. 
 Ralston could not see it. " The truth is that I " 
 she broke off again. " Oh, what s the use of mak 
 ing phrases, cousin Katharine ? " she exclaimed. 
 "Jack and I are married and you know it 
 and you must forgive me that s what I want to 
 say!" 
 
 "And that s the best and the simplest way of 
 saying it, my dear," answered Mrs. Ralston, smil 
 ing for she was happy. "And now that it s 
 said, let s talk about it." 
 
 " How good you are ! " Katharine put out her 
 left hand, and turned, bending a little, so that her 
 face was near her companion s shoulder. 
 
 "I don t know whether I m good to be glad," 
 said Mrs. Ralston. " As for forgiving you that s 
 for your father and mother, not for me. The only 
 
74 THE RALSTONS. 
 
 thing I didn t like was that Jack shouldn t have 
 told me at once. I was hurt by that. We ve been 
 good friends, he and I, and he ought to have known 
 that he could trust ine." 
 
 " We were afraid to trust anybody except 
 uncle Robert," answered Katharine, simply. "And 
 we had to trust him. That was the object of our 
 getting married as we did." 
 
 "Of course you could trust him perfectly, my 
 dear. But it did no good. Jack told me all about 
 that. If he had come to me and said it all before 
 hand, I could have helped a good deal. But that 
 wasn t your fault." 
 
 " Yes, it was," protested the young girl, anxious 
 lest Ralston should be blamed unjustly. " It was 
 altogether my idea from beginning to end " 
 
 "Jack didn t tell me that " 
 
 "No?" Katharine s face lightened softly. "No," 
 she repeated, in another tone. " He wouldn t have 
 told you that. He would have thought that it 
 would be like blaming me. He left that out of the 
 truth. But it s true, and you ought to know it. 
 You don t know how hard it was for me to per 
 suade him to marry me secretly. I used every 
 sort of argument before he would promise. It was 
 I who thought that if we went straight to uncle 
 Robert with our secret, he would find it so easy 
 to give Jack just what he wanted. But Jack was 
 right. He knew more about it than I did. How- 
 
THE R ALSTONS. 75 
 
 ever, he yielded at last. But I want you to know 
 how hard it was. He said it was like a begging 
 speculation. He would rather have died than have 
 accepted money from uncle Kobert. I d have taken 
 it, and uncle Robert offered it to me, but Jack 
 wouldn t let me accept it." 
 
 "Of course not, my dear," answered Mrs. Rals- 
 ton. " That s exactly what it would have been 
 a begging speculation. There s only one thing 
 that can excuse a secret marriage, and that s 
 love." 
 
 "Well in that case " Katharine did not 
 finish her sentence, but smiled happily as she 
 turned her face away. 
 
 " Yes exactly ! " And Mrs. Kalston laughed 
 softly. "That s the reason why I say that I ve 
 nothing to forgive you," she continued, after a 
 little pause. " You see, you ve loved each other a 
 long time " 
 
 " Ages ! " exclaimed Katharine, energetically. 
 
 "And your father objected. Of course he had 
 a right to object, if he saw fit. And you couldn t 
 have told him what you had done unless you were 
 prepared to leave him and come to me which you 
 wouldn t do no ! I know what you re going to 
 say that it would have been putting a burden 
 upon me and all that. But it wouldn t. That s 
 what hurt me, that taking it for granted that I 
 should not be ready much more than ready to 
 
76 THE R ALSTONS. 
 
 make a sacrifice for Jack s sake. Do you know 
 what he is to me that boy your husband ?" 
 
 Her face changed suddenly, and the even lips set 
 themselves in a look that was almost fierce, as she 
 asked the question. 
 
 " I can imagine," said Katharine, in a low voice. 
 " I know what he is to me." 
 
 " Yes. I know you love him. But it s not the 
 same thing. You ll know some day. I hope you 
 may. There s another kind of love besides that of 
 men and women." 
 
 She spoke with a suppressed energy that Kath 
 arine hardly understood. The young girl mentally 
 compared this woman s love for her son with Alex 
 ander Junior s parental affection for his daughter. 
 It seemed to be a very different thing. 
 
 " No," continued Mrs. Ralston. " You can t guess 
 what Jack is to me, and always has been. I don t 
 think he knows it himself. If he did, he d have 
 trusted me more when he was in trouble. I d do a 
 good deal to make him happy." 
 
 As usual with her, there were no big words nor 
 harmonious phrases. What she said was very sim 
 ple. But at that moment she looked as though 
 Katharine Ralston would have trampled on Kath 
 arine Lauderdale s body, if it could have contrib 
 uted to Jack s happiness. 
 
 " You love him very much," said the young girl. 
 So do I." 
 
THE RALSTONS. 77 
 
 " I know you do. I don t mean to say that in 
 your way you may not love him as much as I 
 do. We shan t quarrel about that. I only want 
 you to understand why I was hurt because he 
 wouldn t tell me what he d done. Since he was a 
 boy I ve thought his thoughts, I ve lived his life, 
 I ve done his deeds I ve been sorry for the fool 
 ish ones and proud of the good ones I ve been his 
 other self. It was hard that I shouldn t have a 
 share in the happiest moment he ever had when 
 he married you. It hurt me. I d give my body 
 and my soul if I had one for him. He had 
 no right to leave me out and hide what he was 
 doing." 
 
 " It was my fault," said Katharine. " It was 
 foolish of me to make him marry me at all, as 
 things were then. I ve thought of it since. Sup 
 pose that we had changed our minds, after it was 
 done we were married, you know we couldn t 
 have got out of it." 
 
 "If you changed your mind, as you call it, I 
 wouldn t forgive you," said Mrs. Ralston, as sternly 
 as a man could have spoken. 
 
 Katharine looked at her in silence for a moment. 
 
 " Yes," she answered, gravely. " I think that if 
 I changed my mind now, you d try and kill me. 
 You needn t be afraid." 
 
 Mrs. Ralston returned her gaze, and her features 
 gradually relaxed into a peaceful smile. 
 
78 THE RALSTONS. 
 
 " In old times I should," she said. " I believe 
 I m that kind of woman. But we re not going to 
 quarrel about which loves him best, my dear 
 though I believe we re both capable of committing 
 any folly for him," she added. 
 
 " Yes. We are," said Katharine. " And I don t 
 suppose that we could say so to any one else but 
 each other in the world." 
 
 " I m glad you feel that. So do I. And Jack 
 knows it all without our telling him. At least, he 
 should, by this time." 
 
 " Do men ever know?" asked Katharine. 
 
 "That s hard to say. I think there are men 
 who know what the women who love them would 
 do for them. I m sure there are. But I don t 
 think that any man that ever lived can understand 
 what a mother s love can be like, when it s strongest. 
 It belongs to us women and to animals. Men 
 can only understand what they can feel themselves, 
 and they can never feel that. They understand 
 anything that s founded on passion, but nothing 
 else." 
 
 "Isn t a mother s love a passion, then?" asked 
 Katharine. 
 
 " No it can t be jealous." 
 
 Katharine wondered whether the saying were 
 true, and whether Mrs. Ralston s own words and 
 looks had not disproved her proposition before she 
 had stated it. 
 
CHAPTER XX. 
 
 IT is not long since, upon the death of a wel 
 known lawyer, it was found that he had made a 
 long and elaborate will for himself, duly signed 
 and witnessed, but no single clause of which was 
 good in law, though he had been in the habit of 
 drawing up wills for others during all his pro 
 fessional life. It is not an easy matter to dispose 
 of property amongst a number of persons in such a 
 way that no one shall be able to find a flaw which 
 may invalidate the whole document, even if the 
 signing and witnessing be in order and unassailable. 
 
 For a long time past Alexander Junior had been 
 much interested in the subject, and he believed 
 that he had mastered it unaided, in all its details, 
 so as to be able to detect any technical illegality 
 at a glance. Being quite unable to foresee the 
 nature of Kobert Lauderdale s intentions, he had 
 done his best to prepare himself at all points, in 
 case the will should turn out contrary to his hopes 
 and wishes, as had actually occurred. At first 
 sight, however, his anticipations were disappointed. 
 So far as he could judge, the will was unassailable, 
 though it contained very unusual provisions. If it 
 79 
 
80 THE RALSTONS. 
 
 were admitted to probate, it looked as though it 
 would be unassailable. 
 
 It had of course been in the power of the testator 
 to leave the whole property to whom he pleased, ir 
 respective of relationship, or to divide it amongst 
 such of the living relations as he chose to favour. 
 But, in theory, he had favoured no one. He had 
 willed as though the whole portion had belonged 
 to his grandfather, and had descended from the 
 first Lauderdale who had emigrated, to all the 
 members of his family in its present ramifications. 
 It was not easy to assail the justice of the idea 
 upon which the will had thus been founded, and 
 there could be no question of attacking it on the 
 ground that the testator was not of perfectly 
 sound mind. 
 
 Clearly, however, it would be vastly to Alex 
 ander Junior s advantage if the will were not 
 allowed to stand. Katharine Kalston would get 
 half the fortune, indeed, but Alexander Senior 
 would get the other half. This, in the estimation 
 of Alexander Junior, would be tantamount to get 
 ting it himself. It would be more easy, consider 
 ing his father s age and infirmities, and especially 
 in consideration of the old gentleman s known 
 tendency to give away everything he possessed, to 
 have a trust constituted, at his own request, so far 
 as the world should know, which trust should 
 manage the property and pay him the income aris- 
 
THE .R ALSTONS. 81 
 
 ing from it during the remaining years of his life. 
 In the ordinary course of human events, Alexander 
 Senior could not be expected to live many years 
 longer, and his son believed it would be very easy 
 to influence him in the making of his will, or to 
 prove that he had been of unsound mind in case 
 the will were not satisfactory. Then the whole 
 fortune would come to his son as next of kin. 
 
 But Alexander Junior was met at the outset by 
 the difficulty of finding any fault with the will of 
 Robert Lauderdale. It was clear from the date 
 that it had been made during his last illness, in 
 the interval between the day when he had first 
 been very near death, on which Alexander had 
 met Katharine in the house, and his ultimate 
 demise. Several weeks had passed, during which 
 it had been expected that he might recover, and 
 he had found ample time to reconsider his last 
 wishes. It was immediately clear to Alexander 
 that this was probably not the will of which his 
 uncle had spoken to his daughter. It might be. 
 It was possible that he had told her what he 
 intended to do, and had then done it. But it was 
 improbable ; for when she had seen him that first 
 time, he had not been expected to live, and it was 
 not likely that he then looked forward to the pos 
 sibility of drawing up a document requiring consid 
 erable thought and great care. 
 
 It was quite clear that Alexander must put the 
 
 VOL. II. 
 
82 THE E ALSTONS. 
 
 matter into the hands of a keen and experienced 
 man without delay, and he lost no time in doing 
 so. If he had not acted quickly, the will might 
 have been proved and administered in a few days, 
 and his chance would be gone. Within twenty- 
 four hours it was known that the will would be 
 contested by Alexander Lauderdale Junior on be 
 half of the next of kin, being his father and 
 Katharine Ralston. 
 
 At this news there was a great commotion in 
 all the Lauderdale tribe, and sides and parties 
 declared themselves immediately. The prediction 
 that there would be a tremendous disturbance o| 
 the family elements was immediately realized, for 
 the interests at stake on all sides were very large. 
 The ranks were marshalled and the battle began. 
 
 Clearly it was to the interest of the Lauderdales 
 and the Ralstons to invalidate the will if possible, 
 while it was that of the Brights to sustain it, and 
 the heads of the opposing parties were actually 
 Alexander Lauderdale Junior and Hamilton Bright. 
 It should have followed that the Brights should 
 have stood alone against all the others, a state of 
 things which Alexander believed should influence 
 the court in his favour, since in common opinion 
 it would not seem exactly fair that a small family 
 of distant relations should get as much as all the 
 nephews and nieces of the deceased together. In 
 the matter of wills, the courts often have a con- 
 
THE R ALSTONS. 83 
 
 siderable latitude within which to exercise discre 
 tion, and no circumstance which bears upon the 
 equity of the case is insignificant. 
 
 Though Alexander Junior had neither a very 
 profound nor a very diplomatic intelligence, he saw 
 at once, and his lawyer dwelt upon the point, that 
 it would be greatly to his advantage if he could 
 establish an evident solidarity amongst the next of 
 kin as against the Brights, who would profit by 
 the will as it stood. It became his object there 
 fore to assure the cooperation of the Ralstons. 
 
 At first sight it seemed to him that Mrs. Ralston 
 should without doubt support him. He could not 
 easily conceive that she should hesitate between 
 accepting a quarter of the fortune to be divided be 
 tween her son and herself, and the half of it to be 
 held in her own right. He judged her by himself, 
 as people of strong passions judge others. He threw 
 out of consideration any sentiment she might have 
 in regard to the fulfilment of Eobert Lauderdale s 
 wishes, and made it purely a question of money 
 for her, as it was for himself. He did not believe 
 that any enmity which Ijier son might, and undoubt 
 edly did, feel for him, could stand in the way of 
 such a power as twenty millions of money to influ 
 ence her. His lawyer, who did not know her well, 
 agreed with him. 
 
 But when it became necessary to find out what 
 Mrs. Kalston meant to do, Alexander was conscious 
 
84 THE R ALSTONS. 
 
 that he might be wrong in his calculations. Much 
 against his will he secretly admitted that there 
 might be other motives at work besides the love 
 of money, especially in a case where a large fortune 
 was a certainty, whatever happened, and where the 
 choice lay not between much and nothing, but 
 between much and more. Mrs. Kalston returned 
 answer that she desired to consider the matter and 
 wished to know how soon she must make a definite 
 reply. 
 
 Then she consulted John. 
 
 "I don t know what to do, Jack," she said, seat 
 ing herself in her favourite chair in his study. 
 
 It was late in the afternoon, and it was raining. 
 But it was warm, and one of the windows was 
 raised a little. The smell of the wet pavement 
 and the soft swish of the shower came up from the 
 street. 
 
 " Why should you do anything, mother? " asked 
 Ralston. " However I don t know " he checked 
 himself suddenly and became thoughtful. 
 
 "What is it, Jack? Why do you hesitate?" 
 asked his mother. "I hesitate, too. I want to 
 know what you think about it." 
 
 Ralston reflected in silence for a few minutes, 
 before he spoke. 
 
 "There are so many ways of looking at it," he 
 said at last. " In the first place, you and I should 
 naturally like to carry out the dear old man s 
 
THE R ALSTONS. 85 
 
 wishes, shouldn t we? That s our first instinct, I 
 suppose. Isn t it? " 
 
 "Of course it is. There can be no question of 
 that." 
 
 "Yes. You and I always agree. We were both 
 fond of him, and we re both grateful to him. We 
 both want things to be done as he wished. He s 
 tried to be just all round, and if he hasn t been 
 quite fair in leaving the Brights so much, it s 
 because justice isn t always exactly fair. Law is 
 one thing and equity s another, all the world over. 
 His general idea was to make litigation impossible, 
 and in carrying it out the principle happened to 
 favour the Brights. It might have happened to 
 favour us instead." 
 
 " Yes. That s plain," said Mrs. Kalston. " That s 
 one side of the case. But there s the other." 
 
 " More than one other, perhaps. In the first place, 
 if poor uncle Robert did anything that s not good 
 in law, I ve no business to advise you to support 
 his mistake out of sentiment, and to lose twenty 
 millions by it." 
 
 " Put that out of the question, Jack." 
 
 "No I can t. It s a first-rate reason against 
 my giving you any advice at all. I ought not to 
 influence you. You should act for yourself. Only, 
 as we agree about things generally, we re talking 
 it over." 
 
 "No," answered Mrs. Kalston. "It s not that. 
 
86 THE RALSTONS. 
 
 It s your children. If I should stand out against 
 Alexander on the ground of sentiment, I may be 
 keeping money from your children, or their chil 
 dren, which they have much more claim to have than 
 the Crowdies descendants, for instance. And you 
 must think of that, too. Hamilton Bright s get 
 ting on towards forty. I suppose he doesn t marry 
 because he s still in love with Katharine, poor 
 fellow. But if he doesn t marry soon, he probably 
 never will. At his age men get into grooves. He s 
 devoted to his mother, and with all her good qual 
 ities I don t believe she d be a pleasant mother-in- 
 law, if Hamilton brought his wife to the house. 
 He ll see that, and unless he falls in love rather 
 late, he won t marry for any other reason. Well 
 he and aunt Maggie will leave their money to 
 Hester s children, if she has any. There s no 
 reason why they should have such an enormous 
 amount. They re very distant relations, anyhow. 
 I wonder how uncle Robert didn t see that. 
 There ll be an accumulation of money enough for 
 twenty ordinary fortunes, if things turn out in 
 that way." 
 
 " Yes but you wouldn t leave the Brights out 
 altogether, mother, would you ? That s what will 
 happen, if the will won t hold." 
 
 "We ll make a compromise and give them 
 enough." 
 
 "A few millions," suggested Ralston, with a 
 
THE E ALSTONS. 87 
 
 little laugh. " Isn t it funny that we should be 
 talking about such sums in real earnest? But 
 Alexander can t see it in that light." 
 
 "Well if he doesn t? We can do it alone in 
 that case. What s a million in forty ? " 
 
 "Two and a half per cent," answered Kalston, 
 promptly, from sheer force of the new habit he 
 had acquired at the bank. 
 
 "You re turning into a business man," laughed 
 his mother. "I didn t mean that. I meant it 
 would be little enough." 
 
 "Yes but Ham wouldn t take it. You know 
 him as well as I do. He ll have his rights or noth 
 ing. Honestly, there s no reason on earth why 
 you should make him a present of a million, if the 
 law doesn t give it to him. And there can t be any 
 comparison in this case, because Alexander means 
 to have everything for his father, and then lock 
 him up in Bloomingdale and manage the fortune 
 in his own Trust Company. For the Brights it 
 means forty millions or nothing not a red cent." 
 
 " I suppose you re right about that. And Hamil 
 ton s your friend, Jack." 
 
 "He s been a good friend to me. But he s not 
 the sort of fellow to turn on me because I m op 
 posed to him in a suit. Still he couldn t help 
 feeling that it must make a difference. He 
 wouldn t be human if he didn t. You mustn t 
 blame him for it." 
 
88 THE RALSTONS. 
 
 " Blame him ! Of course not ! Who would ? 
 He s the one who has everything at stake. Well, 
 Jack, what shall we do? We ve got to decide." 
 
 " It s not easy. Mother why don t you send 
 for Harry Brett and put the whole thing in his 
 hands ? He s a perfectly honourable man there 
 aren t many like him. Tell him what your posi 
 tion is, and then wash your hands of the matter. 
 That seems to me to be by far the best thing to do. 
 Tell him just how far you feel that you should like 
 to carry out uncle Robert s wishes, and all you ve 
 told me. He s absolutely honest, and he s a gen 
 tleman. If the law is plainly for us, and there s 
 no question about it, then let him take it. But if 
 Alexander s going to try and get round it by quib 
 bling, Brett will stand up against him like a man. 
 He s a fine fellow, Brett. I like him. You can be 
 sure that he ll do the right thing." 
 
 " I think that s very good advice. I ll see him 
 and get him to answer the letter. I suppose the 
 next thing will be that Alexander will come to see 
 me and want to persuade me, especially if Brett s 
 for upholding the will. If he does, I won t say any 
 thing. What I hate is the uncertainty of it all. 
 Until it s settled you and Katharine can t consider 
 yourselves married. At least, you could but I 
 suppose you won t." 
 
 " She shan t go back to Clinton Place, at all 
 events," said Ralston. "The next time she 
 
THE RALSTONS. 89 
 
 goes through that door, she shall go as my wife. 
 That brute has ill-treated her enough, and he shan t 
 have another chance. Of course, she can t go on 
 staying at the Brights through all this. That s 
 another thing. It won t be pleasant for her to feel 
 that her father s trying his best to keep them out 
 of the fortune, and to have to sit down to dinner 
 with them every day and hear it discussed. Be 
 sides poor Ham s deadly in love still, in his dear 
 old heavy way. I wish she d go to the Crowdies . 
 I tried to make her go the other day " 
 
 "But that would be just as bad," said Mrs. 
 Ralston. "Worse, in fact. Crowdie wouldn t be 
 half so careful how he talked as Bright would be." 
 
 " That s true. Well she ll just have to go and 
 stay with the three Miss Miners, then. It won t 
 be gay, but it won t be unpleasant, at all events." 
 
 " Upon my word, Jack, you d better let me ask 
 her here. At all events, we can keep her father 
 away. Go and see her and try to persuade her to 
 come. Or I ll go. I can manage it better. If 
 you ll let me tell her that you ve told me about 
 your marriage, it will be easier. Otherwise she ll 
 have that on her mind as a reason for not coming. 
 After all, there s no especial reason why she should 
 not know, is there? And then, Jack you don t 
 know how I should like to feel as though she 
 were really your wife! Fve always wanted her 
 for you." 
 
90 THE R ALSTONS. 
 
 Ralston kissed his mother s hand affectionately, 
 and held it in his own a moment. 
 
 " There s no reason," he said, presently. " I 
 think you ll love each other as I love you both." 
 
 " If she loves you, I shall," answered Mrs. Rals 
 ton, and her face set itself oddly. " If she doesn t 
 -I think I could kill her." 
 
 In this way they agreed as far as possible upon 
 the position they would assume in the great family 
 quarrel which was imminent, and, on the whole, 
 they seemed to have chosen wisely. 
 
CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 IN each household there was rumour of war and 
 discussion of plans, and the nervous tension was 
 already great. In Lafayette Place, the exceed 
 ingly unfashionable and somewhat remote corner 
 where the Crowdies dwelt in one of the half-dozen 
 habitable houses there situated, there was consid 
 erable disturbance. Walter Crowdie and his wife 
 were in the studio, alone together, talking about it 
 all. Crowdie had received a communication from 
 his brother-in-law, telling him of Alexander s con 
 templated attack and enquiring as to Crowdie s 
 opinion, more as a matter of form than because he 
 expected any interference or needed any help. 
 
 Hester Crowdie was a nervously organized 
 woman, almost insanely in love with her husband. 
 She had one of those pale, delicate, passionate 
 faces which are not easily forgotten, and which 
 seem to bear the sign of an unusual destiny in 
 each line and shade of expression. She had much 
 of the hereditary beauty of the Lauderdales, but 
 the regularity of her features was not what struck 
 the eye first. She was slight, but graceful as a 
 doe, alternately quick and then indolent as an 
 91 
 
92 THE RALSTONS. 
 
 Oriental woman, strong, yet liable to what seemed 
 inexplicable fatigue and weakness which overtook 
 her without warning, and often sensitive as a fine 
 instrument to every changing influence about her, 
 yet constant as steel in her idolizing love for her 
 husband. 
 
 To do him justice, he seemed to return all she 
 felt for him in an almost like degree. They were 
 well-nigh inseparable, and she spent every moment 
 of the day with him which she could spare from 
 her very slight social and household duties, when 
 he himself was not occupied with a sitter. 
 
 The studio was a vast room occupying the whole 
 upper story of the house, and lighted from above 
 as well as by windows, the latter being generally 
 closed. It contained a barbaric wealth of rich 
 Eastern carpets, stuffs, and embroideries, which 
 covered the walls and the huge divans, and were 
 draped about the chimney-piece. There was an 
 old-fashioned high-backed chair for Crowdie s 
 sitters, and there were generally at least two easels 
 in the room, having unfinished canvases upon 
 them. But there was nothing else not a sketch, 
 not a bit of a plaster cast, not the least object of 
 metal. There were none of those more or less 
 cheap weapons with which artists are fond of dec 
 orating their studios, there were no vases, no 
 plants, no objects, in short, but the easels, the 
 one chair, and the rich materials hung upon the 
 
THE EALSTONS. 93 
 
 walls, spread upon the divans, covering the heaps 
 of soft cushions. Even the high door which gave 
 access to the room from the narrow landing was 
 masked by a great embroidery. Crowdie kept all 
 his paints and brushes in a large closet, cut off 
 by a curtain, and built out, balcony-like, over the 
 yard at the back of the house. 
 
 Hester Crowdie lay among the cushions on one 
 of the enormous divans. She was dressed in black, 
 and the garment which was neither gown nor 
 tea-gown, nor yet a frock followed closely the 
 lines of grace in which her bodily beauty ran, 
 from her throat to her slender feet. One blood 
 less hand lay upon the dark folds, the other 
 was pressed almost out of sight in the yielding 
 coils of her rich brown hair ; she supported her 
 head, resting upon her elbow, and watching her 
 husband. 
 
 Crowdie was standing before an easel near by, 
 palette and brushes in hand, touching the canvas 
 from time to time, mechanically rather than with 
 any serious intention of doing anything to the 
 picture. 
 
 " I don t see why your brother takes the trouble 
 to write," he said. " It may be a sort of formality. 
 He must know that I d be dead against the Lauder- 
 dales in anything. They all detest me, and I hate 
 them every one, with all my heart." 
 
 " So do I," answered Hester. " I hate them all 
 
94 THE RALSTONS. 
 
 except Katharine. But you don t hate her, 
 either, Walter." 
 
 " Oh Katharine ? No not exactly. She s 
 too good-looking to be hated. But she can t bear 
 me." 
 
 " It s not so bad as that. If it were, she shouldn t 
 be my friend for a day. You know that. But 
 she s with the enemy in the present case. It can t 
 be helped. I hope we shan t quarrel. But if we 
 must why, we must, that s all." 
 
 Crowdie touched his picture, looked at it, then 
 glanced at his wife and smiled. 
 
 " After all," he said, " what does that sort of 
 friendship amount to ? " 
 
 " Well perhaps you re right," she answered, 
 and she smiled, too, as her eyes met his, and lin 
 gered a moment in the meeting. " I don t know 
 perhaps it fills up the little empty places in life 
 
 when you ve got a sister, for instance. Besides 
 
 I m fond of Katharine. We ve always been a 
 good deal together. Not that I think she s per 
 fection either, you know. I don t like the way 
 she s gone and installed herself with mamma, as 
 though she didn t know perfectly well that Ham 
 was in love with her, and that she was making 
 him miserable." 
 
 " Ham will survive* a considerable amount of 
 that sort of misery. Still, it must be unpleasant, 
 especially just now. After all, it s her father 
 
THE RALSTONS. 95 
 
 who s attacking you and your mother and brother. 
 They can t talk freely before her any more than 
 you and I should." 
 
 " No." Hester paused a moment, and her face 
 was thoughtful. " Walter," she began again, pres 
 ently, " I want to ask you a question." 
 
 " Do you ? " he asked, softly. " I have all the 
 answers ready to all the possible questions you can 
 ever ask of me. What is it ? " 
 
 " Walter weren t you just a little tiny bit in 
 love with Katharine, ever so long ago, before we 
 were married ? Tell me. I shan t mind that 
 is, if it was very long ago." 
 
 " In love with Katharine Lauderdale ? No 
 never. That s a very easy question to answer." 
 
 He stood looking at her, and the hand which 
 held the palette hung down by his side. 
 
 "Weren t you? I sometimes think that you 
 must have been. You look at her sometimes as 
 though she pleased you." 
 
 Crowdie laughed, a low, golden laugh, and glanced 
 at his picture again, but said nothing. Then, in 
 the silence, he went and put away his paints and 
 brushes behind the curtain on one side of the fire 
 place at the other end of the great room. Hester 
 lay back among the cushions and watched him till 
 he disappeared, and kept her eyes upon the curtain 
 until he came out again. She watched him as a 
 wild animal watches her mate when she fears that 
 
96 THE R ALSTONS. 
 
 he is going to leave her, with earnest, glistening 
 eyes. 
 
 But he came back, bringing with him a small 
 Japanese vase of that rare old bronze that rings 
 under the touch like far-off chimes. He set it 
 down upon the tiles before the fireplace, and poured 
 something into it, and set fire to the liquid with a 
 match. It blazed with a misty blue flame, and he 
 threw a few grains of something upon it. A soft, 
 white smoke rose in little clouds, and an intoxicat 
 ing perfume filled the air. 
 
 Hester s delicate nostrils quivered, as she lay 
 back amongst her cushions. She delighted in rare 
 perfumes \vhich could be burned. The faint colour 
 rose in her pale cheeks, and her eyelids drooped. 
 Crowdie drove the white smoke with his hands, 
 wafting it towards her. 
 
 " What a strange question that was of yours," 
 he said, suddenly, seating himself upon the edge 
 of the divan, and touching the back of her hand 
 softly with the tips of his fingers. 
 
 She withdrew her hand and laid it upon his as 
 soon as he had spoken, caressing his in her turn. 
 
 " Was it ? " she asked, in a dreamy voice. " It 
 seemed so natural. I couldn t help asking you. 
 After all, there are days when she s very beautiful. 
 But that wasn t it, exactly. It was something 
 oh, Walter ! why did you sing to her the other 
 night ? You know you promised that you d never 
 
THE EALSTONS. 97 
 
 sing if I wasn t there. It hurt me it hurt me all 
 over when I heard of it. Why did you do it ? 
 And then, why didn t you tell me ? " 
 
 " And who did tell you ? " asked Crowdie, gently, 
 but his eyelids contracted with curiosity as he 
 asked the question. " Not Griggs ? " 
 
 " Oh, no ! Mamma told me, yesterday. Why 
 did you do it ? And she said dreadfully hard 
 things to me about trying to keep you all to myself, 
 and locking up what gives people so much pleasure 
 and all that." 
 
 "I m sorry she told you. Why will people inter 
 fere and tell tales ? " 
 
 " Yes but, Walter darling do I lock you up 
 and try to keep you from other people ? Am I 
 jealous and horrid, as she says I am ? If you 
 think so, tell me. Have I ever interfered with 
 your pleasure ? Am I always getting in your 
 way ? " 
 
 " Darling ! What nonsense you talk some 
 times ! " 
 
 " No, but seriously, would you like me any better 
 if I were like Katharine Lauderdale ? " 
 
 The passionate eyes sought his, and there was a 
 quick breath, half suppressed, as her hand ceased 
 to caress his passive fingers. 
 
 " I couldn t like you better as you call it, 
 sweetest," answered Crowdie. 
 
 And again his soft laugh rippled up through 
 
 VOL. II. 7 
 
98 THE RALSTONS. 
 
 perfumed air. With a movement that was almost 
 girlish he dropped upon one elbow, and raising her 
 diaphanous hand in his, tapped his own pale cheek 
 with it. Hester laughed a little, too. 
 
 " Because if I thought you cared for Katharine 
 Lauderdale I d " She paused, and her fingers 
 stroked his silky hair. 
 
 " What would you do to Katharine Lauderdale 
 if you thought I cared for her ? " 
 
 " I won t tell you," answered Hester, very low. 
 " It would be something bad. Why did you sing 
 for her if you don t care for her ? " 
 
 "I sang for everybody. Besides, it was so dull 
 there. They d been talking metaphysics and such 
 rubbish, and there was a long pause, and aunt 
 Maggie wanted me to. And then, when she said 
 that I d promised never to sing except for you, I 
 didn t choose to let them all believe it was true. 
 Katharine begged me not to, I remember when 
 she was told that I d made you a promise." 
 
 " Did she ? " Hester s eyelids opened and then 
 drooped again. " She knew that would be the way 
 to make you sing, or she wouldn t have said it. 
 How mean women are ! I m beginning to hate 
 her, too. Are you sorry ? " 
 
 " Sorry ? No. Why should I be sorry ? Sweet 
 you ve got this idea that I ve a fancy for her 
 it s foolish." 
 
 "Is it ? You look a little sorry, though, because 
 
THE RALSTONS. 99 
 
 I said & should hate her. She s better looking than 
 I am." * 
 
 " She ! Crowdie laughed again, the same gen 
 tle, lulling, golden laugh. "Besides I told you 
 she can t bear me." 
 
 "I hate her for that, too for loving your voice as 
 she does, and not liking you. And I shall hate her 
 if her father gets all the money that ought to come 
 to us, because if I ever get it, I m going to make 
 you do all you ve ever dreamed of doing with it. 
 You shall build your palace like the one at Agra 
 Griggs will help you, for he knows everything 
 you shall do all you ve ever dreamed we ll have 
 the alabaster room with the light shining through 
 the walls you shall sing to me there, by the 
 fountain but you shan t sing to Katharine Lau- 
 derdale there, nor anywhere else Walter, you 
 shan t " 
 
 "She s got into your head, love : Crowdie s 
 red lips kissed the bloodless hand, and his beautiful 
 eyes looked up to Hester s face. " It s a foolish 
 thought, sweet ! Let me kiss it away." 
 
 Hester said nothing, but her own eyes burned, 
 and her nostrils quivered like white rose leaves in 
 the breeze, delicate, diaphanous, passionate. A 
 little shiver ran through her, and she sighed. 
 
 " Sing to me," she said. " Sing what you sang 
 to her the other night. Make the song mine again. 
 Make it forget her. Sing softly, very softly soft, 
 soft you know how I love the notes " 
 
100 THE RALSTONS. 
 
 She closed her burning eyes, but not so wholly 
 but what she could see him, as she threw back her 
 head upon the cushions. 
 
 Crowdie sat motionless beside her, watching her. 
 His lips were parted as though he were just about 
 to sing, but no sound escaped them. In the heavy, 
 perfumed air the stillness was intense, and it was 
 warm. 
 
 "Sing," said Hester, just above a whisper, as 
 though she were murmuring in her sleep. 
 
 But still no single note came from his lips, and 
 still his eyes rested on her face. 
 
 " I can t ! " he exclaimed, suddenly, as though his 
 own breath oppressed him. 
 
 Slowly she raised her lids, and her eyes met his, 
 wild, dark, almost speaking with a voice of their 
 own. 
 
 " Why did you sing for her ? " she asked, whis 
 pering, as he gradually bent down towards her. 
 " Do you love me ? " 
 
 " Like death," he answered, bending still. 
 
 " Do you hate Katharine Lauderdale ? " she 
 asked, very near his face. 
 
 " I hate everything but you, sweet " 
 
 The two transparent hands were suddenly raised 
 and framed his eyes, and held him a moment. 
 
 " Say you hate her ! " The whisper was short, 
 fierce, and hot. 
 
 "Yes I hate her." 
 
THE RALSTONS. 101 
 
 Then the hands dropped. 
 
 Far off before the great chimney-piece, the little 
 cloud of white smoke curled slowly from the censer 
 upwards through the soft, love-laden air and the 
 perfume stole silently everywhere, in and out, half 
 poisonous with aromatic sweetness, all through the 
 great still room. 
 
CHAPTER Xill. 
 
 KATHARINE found herself in a very difficult 
 position. During the next few days she realized 
 clearly that she could not continue to stay with 
 the Brights indefinitely, both on account of their 
 attitude in the matter of the will, and because 
 Hamilton Bright was in love with her. She felt 
 that the friendships to which she had been accus 
 tomed all her life were slipping away under the 
 pressure of circumstances, and that some of her 
 friends were becoming her enemies. Reflections 
 she had never known before now rose in her mind, 
 and in a few days she had reached that state of 
 exaggerated cynicism and unbelief which overtakes 
 the very young when those with whom they closely 
 associate change their minds upon very important 
 points. In the meantime, Katharine went every 
 day to see her mother in Clinton Place while her 
 father was down town. 
 
 The bond between mother and daughter, which 
 had been so violently strained during the previous 
 winter, and again within the past few weeks, was 
 growing stronger again. The events which were 
 breaking up Katharine s intimacy with Hester 
 102 
 
THE EALSTONS. 103 
 
 Crowdie and the Brights had the effect of draw 
 ing her and her mother together. So far as Hester 
 Crowdie was concerned, Katharine s friendship for 
 her had existed upon a false basis, as has been 
 seen. The elder woman s ardent and sensitive 
 nature reflected itself in her minor actions and 
 relations, lending them an appearance of depth 
 which she herself was far from feeling. Katharine 
 was indeed sympathetic to her, and there had been 
 much confidence between the two, which had not 
 been wholly misplaced on either side. But Hester 
 did not wish the young girl to see too much of 
 Crowdie. How far she understood him it is im 
 possible to say, but that she loved him desperately 
 and was jealous of every glance he bestowed on 
 any passing figure that pleased him, there could 
 be no doubt. Her vanity was not proof against 
 that jealousy, and she feared comparison. That 
 Crowdie should have broken his promise about 
 singing, and should have sung to please Katharine, 
 had hurt her even more deeply than she herself 
 realized. 
 
 On the other hand, Mrs. Lauderdale s confession 
 to her daughter 011 the morning after Robert Lau 
 derdale s death had produced a profound impression 
 upon the young girl. Being quite unable to realize 
 a state of mind in which her mother could really be 
 envious of her, Katharine readily believed that Mrs. 
 Lauderdale had greatly exaggerated in her own 
 
104 THE RALSTOXS. 
 
 judgment the fault of which she had been guilty, 
 and that much of what had seemed to be her un- 
 kindness and heartlessness toward Katharine had 
 really been the result of her unjust self-accusation, 
 leading her to avoid the person whom she believed 
 that she had injured. All that was a little vague, 
 but that did not matter. The two had always been 
 allies in family questions, and had been devotedly 
 attached to one another until this year. And after 
 the first violent scene with Alexander Junior, the 
 mother had taken the daughter s side again, had 
 released her from imprisonment in her own room, 
 and had approved of her taking shelter with uncle 
 Robert. The confession she had made on that 
 morning had been in reality a complete reconcilia 
 tion. Katharine did not understand how much her 
 absence from home during twenty-four hours had 
 to do with the subsidence of her mother s un 
 natural envy. 
 
 The result was that at the present juncture 
 Katharine desired earnestly to return to her home, 
 and would have done so in spite of Ralston s 
 objections, had she been assured of finding any 
 condition approaching even to an armed peace. 
 But of this she had little hope. She learned that 
 her father was morose and silent, and that he never 
 referred to her. His attention was naturally pre 
 occupied by the uncommon interests at stake in 
 the approaching conflict, and he grew daily more 
 
THE EALSTONS. 105 
 
 taciturn. His old father watched events with that 
 apparent indifference of old age, which often con 
 ceals a curiosity not without cunning in finding 
 means of satisfying itself. Mrs. Lauderdale also 
 told Katharine that Charlotte and her husband 
 were coming up from Washington for a few days, 
 in order that Slayback and Alexander might talk 
 matters over. Contrary to the latter s expecta 
 tions, Slayback did not seem inclined to agree with 
 the Lauderdales about the attempt to break the 
 will, though his wife and his children would ulti 
 mately profit largely by the result, if it proved 
 successful. 
 
 Katharine returned one afternoon from Clinton 
 Place, after discussing these matters with her 
 mother, and found Hamilton Bright in the library 
 in Park Avenue. She always avoided as much as 
 possible being alone with him, and when she 
 caught sight of his flaxen head bending over the 
 writing-table, she was about to withdraw quietly 
 and go to her own room. But he looked up quickly 
 and spoke to her. . 
 
 "Don t run away, cousin Katharine," he said. 
 " And you always do run. You know it s not safe, 
 with your arm in a sling." 
 
 "But I wasn t running," answered the young 
 girl. "Of course I ll stay if you want me. I 
 thought you were busy." 
 
 " Oh, no I was only writing a note. I ve fin- 
 
106 THE R ALSTONS. 
 
 ished and and I should be awfully glad if 
 you d stay a little while." 
 
 Katharine glanced at his face and saw that he 
 was embarrassed. She wondered what was in his 
 mind as she sat down. He had risen from his seat 
 and seemed to hesitate about taking another. 
 When a man hesitates to sit down in order to talk 
 to a woman, only two suppositions are possible. 
 Either he does not wish to be caught and obliged 
 to stay with her, or he has something important 
 to say, and thinks that he can talk better on his 
 legs than seated, which is true for nine men out of 
 ten. Bright at last decided in favour of standing 
 by the fireplace, resting one elbow upon the shelf 
 and thrusting one hand into his pocket. Katha 
 rine could hear the soft jingle of his little bunch of 
 keys. She expected that he meant to say some 
 thing about the difficulty of their relative positions 
 in regard to the will, which must lead to her put 
 ting an end to her visit immediately. So long as 
 the subject had not been mentioned the position 
 had been tenable, but if it were once discussed, she 
 felt that she should be obliged to go away at once. 
 She could not well accept the hospitality of her 
 father s bitterest opponents, though they were her 
 friends and relations, if once the position were 
 clearly denned. 
 
 " What is it ? " she asked, after a short pause, by 
 way of helping him, for by this time she was sure 
 that he had something to say to her. 
 
THE RALSTONS. 107 
 
 " Oh nothing " He hesitated. " That is - 
 I only wanted to talk to you a little that is, if 
 you don t mind." 
 
 "Oh, I don t mind at all! " answered Katharine, 
 with a smile in which she tried to turn her amuse 
 ment into encouragement. 
 
 Except at great moments, almost all women are 
 wickedly amused when a man is embarrassed in 
 attacking a difficult subject. The more kind- 
 hearted ones, like Katharine, will often help a 
 man. The cynical ones get all the diversion they 
 can out of the situation and give a graphic account 
 of it to the first intimate friend who turns up 
 afterwards. Katharine really thought he meant to 
 speak of the will, and the position struck her as 
 absurd. She was in the position of having forced 
 herself upon the hospitality of her father s enemies. 
 She wondered how Bright would put the matter, 
 and, woman-like, at the same moment she cata 
 logued her belongings as they lay about her room 
 upstairs and calculated roughly that it might take 
 her as much as an hour to pack all her things if 
 she decided to go that evening. Still Bright said 
 nothing. 
 
 "It seems to be rather a serious matter," she 
 said, assuming that he had not asked her to stay 
 in order to talk about the weather. 
 
 " Well it is pretty serious for me, " he an 
 swered. "It amounts to this. I don t know 
 
108 THE EALSTONS. 
 
 whether you ve ever noticed anything, so I m not 
 sure just how to begin. I d like to make a straight 
 statement if you wouldn t mind that is if I 
 were sure of not offending you." 
 
 "I don t exactly see how you can offend me," 
 answered Katharine, gravely. "If it s about the 
 will, I suppose we think alike, only I d hoped that 
 we might not bring it up and talk about it just 
 yet. But if you re going to do that, I d rather 
 you d let me speak first. I think I should antici 
 pate what you were going to say. I d rather 
 and it would be less trouble for you." 
 
 "Well," replied Bright, doubtfully. "I don t 
 know that I meant to talk about that exactly. 
 But there s a certain connection. If you ve any 
 thing on your mind to say about it, why, go ahead, 
 cousin Katharine go ahead. I daresay you ll 
 put it much better than I shall." 
 
 "I m not so sure of that. But it may seem to 
 come better from me. I ll say it, at all events, 
 and if you don t think as I do, tell me so. Of 
 course I know how strange it must have seemed to 
 you and aunt Maggie that I should have come here, 
 out of a clear sky, the other day, without so much 
 as giving you half an hour s warning. No amount 
 of charity and hospitality can make that look 
 natural to you, to either of you, and I dare 
 say you ve wondered about it. And then, to stay 
 on in this way, after my father has behaved in 
 
THE R ALSTONS. 109 
 
 the way he has it s not exactly delicate, you 
 know " 
 
 "Nonsense!" exclaimed Bright, emphatically. 
 "You re mistaken if you think that s my view of 
 the case." 
 
 "I don t think I m mistaken, cousin Ham. I 
 daresay you may like to have me, but that doesn t 
 explain my coming, does it? But I m in an awfully 
 hard position just now, and the other day do you 
 know? I was driving to the Crowdies , and then 
 I changed my mind and came here instead." 
 
 "I m glad you did. So s my mother. As for 
 not thinking it natural, when your father s tearing 
 about like wild and rooting up everything like a 
 mad rhinoceros oh, I say ! I beg your pardon " 
 
 Katharine did not smile, for there was good blood 
 in her veins, of the kind that does not play false 
 at such moments. But the temptation to laugh 
 was strong, and she looked fixedly at her left 
 hand. 
 
 "No," she said. "Please don t speak of my 
 father like that. I suppose you both think you re 
 right in this horrible question of money. I myself 
 don t know what I think. He s wrong in one way, 
 of course. Whether there s a flaw in the will or 
 not, it represents poor uncle Robert s last wish 
 about his fortune. If he changed his mind, that s 
 none of our business " 
 
 " How do you mean ? " said Bright, quickly, and 
 
110 THE EALSTONS. 
 
 forgetting his embarrassment. "Did you say he 
 changed his mind ? " 
 
 "I didn t mean to say that, positively," answered 
 Katharine, who had forgotten herself for a moment. 
 " As the will was made almost at the last moment, 
 perhaps there had been others, before it. People 
 often make several wills, don t they ? That s all 
 I meant. My own feeling would be to carry out 
 his wishes. But I suppose men feel differently 
 and it s an enormous fortune, of course. The main 
 point is that you and your mother are legally my 
 father s enemies well, call it opponents and 
 I ve no business to be eating your bread while it 
 lasts. That s what it comes to, in plain language." 
 
 "I wish you wouldn t talk in that way, cousin 
 Katharine," said Bright, in a low voice. "I don t 
 think it s exactly kind." 
 
 "It s true, at all events," answered Katharine. 
 "As for being kind it s not a case of kindness 
 on my part. It s gratitude I feel, because you and 
 aunt Maggie have been so awfully kind to me, just 
 when I was in trouble." 
 
 "Oh if you re going to look at it in that 
 way ! " Bright paused, but Katharine said nothing. 
 "Well, I don t see where the kindness lies," he 
 continued. " Of course, if you choose to put it so 
 but it s a long way on the other side. It s a 
 pretty considerable kindness of you to come and 
 stop in my house. If that s what you ve got to 
 
THE EALSTONS. Ill 
 
 say about the will business, cousin Katharine, I 
 hope you won t say any more, because I don t like 
 it. I appreciate I suppose that s the word I 
 appreciate your motives in trying to twist things 
 inside out and to make martyrs of us because 
 we ve accepted your company without saying, 
 Look here, cousin Katharine, this is our bread, 
 and you re eating it, and we don t exactly mind, 
 but we d rather you d go and eat your own. I 
 suppose that s what you make out that we re think 
 ing all the time. I don t know whether you call 
 that being kind to me, exactly, but I know pretty 
 well what it feels like. It feels as if you d slapped 
 my face." 
 
 " Ham ! Cousin Ham ! " cried Katharine. "You 
 know how I meant it please? please don t 
 think " 
 
 " No ; I know I m an idiot. I suppose it s just 
 as well you should know it, too. It may make 
 things more comfortable. But I ll tell you. Don t 
 talk that way, please, because we don t feel that 
 way, and we re not going to. I d rather have you 
 know that this is just as much your home as Clin 
 ton Place is than well, than lots of things. And 
 since we re saying everything right out, like this, 
 and we re either going to be friends or not I d 
 like to ask you one question, if you don t mind. 
 You may be offended, but you ll know I didn t mean 
 to be offensive, because I ve said so. May I ?" 
 
112 THE R ALSTONS. 
 
 He spoke roughly, relapsing under excitement 
 and emotion to habits of speech which had been 
 formed and strengthened in his early years in the 
 West. Katharine had occasionally heard him talk 
 in that way with men, losing all at once the refine 
 ments of accent and speech which had been familiar 
 in childhood and again in maturity, but which ten 
 years of California and Nevada had lined, so to say, 
 with something rougher and stronger that occasion 
 ally broke through the shell. Katharine was by no 
 means sure of what he meant to say, and would very 
 much have preferred that he should not ask his 
 question just then, whatever it might prove to be. 
 But she saw well enough that in his present mood 
 it would not be easy to control him. 
 
 "Yes," she said. "Ask me anything you like, 
 if you think I can answer. I will if I can." 
 
 "Well are you going to marry Jack Ralston 
 or not, cousin Katharine ? It would make a differ 
 ence to me if you d tell me." 
 
 Katharine was taken unawares, both by the 
 question and its form. Not to answer it was very 
 difficult, under the circumstances. She had risked 
 trouble in letting him speak, and it would not be 
 true either to say that she was going to marry 
 Ralston or that she was not, since she was married 
 already. But she had never contemplated the 
 possibility of telling Bright the secret, and she 
 did not wish to do so now. She was very truthful 
 
THE RALSTONS. 113 
 
 and also very reticent qualities which she inher 
 ited, and which were therefore the foundation of 
 her impulses and not acquired virtues from which 
 there was at least a chance of escape under very 
 trying circumstances. She hesitated a moment, 
 and then made up her mind. 
 
 "I d rather not answer the question just now," 
 she said, but she felt the blush slowly rising to 
 her cheeks. 
 
 Bright glanced at her with a look almost ex 
 pressing fear. Then he turned his eyes away, and 
 grew red. He jingled his little bunch of keys in 
 his pocket, in his emotion. Once or twice he 
 opened his lips and drew breath, but checked him 
 self and kept silence. Seeing that he said nothing, 
 Katharine rose to her feet, hoping to put an end to 
 the situation. He pretended not to see her, at first. 
 She felt that she should not go away in silence, for 
 she did not wish to seem unkind, so she stood still 
 for a moment, keeping herself in countenance by 
 adjusting the little cape she wore over her injured 
 arm. Still he said nothing, and at last she made 
 a step as though she were going away, purposely 
 trying to put on a kindly and natural expression. 
 
 " Where are you going ? " he asked, almost 
 roughly. 
 
 " I was going to my room," she answered, quietly. 
 " I haven t even taken off my hat, yet, you see. 
 I m just as I came in." 
 
 VOL. II. 8 
 
114 THE EALSTONS. 
 
 She lengthened the short explanation unneces 
 sarily in order to seem kind, and then regretted it. 
 She made another step. 
 
 " Don t go just yet ! " he exclaimed. 
 
 His throat was dry, and the words came with 
 difficulty. Katharine knew that there was noth 
 ing to be done now but to face the situation. She 
 stopped just as she was about to take another step, 
 and came back to him as he stood by the fireplace. 
 
 "Please don t say anything more," she said. 
 " I hadn t any idea what question you were going 
 to ask. Please don t " 
 
 "Just hear me, please," he answered, paying no 
 attention to what she said. "It isn t going to 
 take long. You know what I meant. Well 
 I ve thought for some time that things had cooled 
 off between you and Jack, and that you d settled 
 down to be friends. So I thought I d ask you. 
 Of course, if you said right out that you were 
 going to marry him or you weren t well, that 
 would rather simplify things. But of course, if 
 you can t, or won t, I ve just got to be satisfied, 
 that s all. You ve got a doubt, anyhow. And 
 Jack s my friend. He had the first right, and he 
 has it until you say no and send him off. I 
 don t want you to think that I m not acting 
 squarely by him." 
 
 For a moment Katharine hesitated. She was 
 much tempted to tell him of her marriage, seeing 
 
TEE EALSTONS. 115 
 
 how he spoke, but again her natural impulse kept 
 her silent on that point. 
 
 " There ll never be any chance for any one else, 
 Hani," she said gently. "Put it out of your 
 mind and I m grateful, indeed I am! " 
 
 "Never?" he asked, looking at her and a ner 
 vous smile that meant nothing came into his face. 
 
 She shook her head in answer. 
 
 "There ll never be any chance for any one else," 
 she repeated gravely. 
 
 He looked at her a moment longer, his face 
 growing rather pale. Once more he jingled his 
 keys in his pocket, as he turned his head away. 
 
 "Well I m sorry," he said. "Excuse me if I 
 spoke you see I didn t know," 
 
 There was a tone with the commonplace words 
 that took them straight to Katharine s heart. She 
 saw how the strong, simple, uneloquent man was 
 suffering, and she knew that she should never have 
 come to the house. 
 
 "I m more sorry and more ashamed than 
 you can guess," she said, and with bent head she 
 left him standing by the fireplace, and went to her 
 room. 
 
 He did not move for a long time after she had 
 gone, but stood still, his face changing, though 
 little, from time to time, with his thoughts. He 
 jingled his keys meditatively in his pocket every 
 now and then. At last he sighed and uttered one 
 
116 THE RALSTONS. 
 
 monosyllable, solemnly and without undue em 
 phasis. 
 
 "Damn." 
 
 Then he shook his big shoulders, and got his hat 
 and went for a solitary stroll, eastwards in the 
 direction of the river. 
 
 But Katharine had not such powerful monosyl 
 lables at her command, and she suddenly felt very 
 much ashamed of herself, as she shut the door of 
 her room and looked about, with a vague idea that 
 she ought to go away at once. It was not as though 
 she had not been warned of what might happen, 
 nor as though she had been forced into the situa 
 tion against her will. She had deliberately chosen 
 to come to the Brights rather than to go anywhere 
 else, and had obliged John Ralston to let her do so 
 when she had been with him in the carriage. If 
 she ever told him what had just happened he would 
 have in his power one of those weapons which, in 
 a small way, humanity keenly dreads, to wit, the 
 power to say " I told you so. " It is not easy to 
 explain the sense of utter humiliation which most 
 of us feel though we jest about it when the 
 warning of another proves to have been well 
 founded. 
 
 Katharine saw, however, that her wandering 
 existence could continue no longer, and that if she 
 left the Brights she must go home. She could not 
 continue to transfer herself from the home of one 
 
THE RALSTONS. 117 
 
 relation to that of another, with her box and her 
 valise, for an indefinite period. In the first place, 
 she was inconveniencing people, and secondly, they 
 would ultimately begin to wonder what had hap 
 pened in Clinton Place to make it impossible for 
 her to stay in her father s house. On the other 
 hand, she was not prepared to go there at a, 
 moment s notice. She could hardly expect a very 
 hearty welcome from her father, considering how 
 they had parted on that afternoon at Eobert Lau- 
 derdale s house more than a week earlier. 
 
 She hesitated as to whether she should not pre 
 tend to be ill and stay in her room until the next 
 morning, when she could go back quietly to Clinton 
 Place. But she knew that Mrs. Bright would come 
 and sit with her and would very soon find out that 
 there was nothing the matter. She might have 
 saved herself the trouble of thinking of that, for 
 Bright himself did not wish to meet her, and went 
 out and dined at his club as the surest way of 
 avoiding her. It was as well, at all events, that 
 she did not attempt to go to the Crowdies , for her 
 appearance there just then would not have pleased 
 Hester, and would have considerably disturbed 
 Crowdie s own peace of mind. 
 
 She was immensely relieved to find herself alone 
 at dinner with Mrs. Bright, who made Hamilton s 
 excuses, and she looked forward to spending a quiet 
 evening and going to bed early, unless Ralston 
 
118 THE RALSTONS. 
 
 came. This, however, was not probable, for he had 
 come on the previous evening, and he hesitated to 
 come every day on account of the Brights. 
 
 He came, however, not long after dinner. Katha 
 rine did not understand his expression. He smiled 
 like a man in possession of an amusing secret which 
 he was anxious to communicate as soon as an oppor 
 tunity offered. At last Mrs. Bright left the room. 
 
 " Look here," said Ralstoii. " I ve got this thing 
 I wish you d look at it and tell me what you 
 think." 
 
 He produced a letter and handed it to her, with 
 a short laugh. She saw that it was in her father s 
 handwriting. 
 
 "Read it," said John. "It will make you open 
 your eyes. He has a most peculiar character. 
 It s coining to the surface rapidly." 
 
 Katharine held out the envelope to him. 
 
 " You must take it out," she said. " I ve only 
 got one hand, and that s my left." 
 
 " Poor dear ! " he exclaimed. " I suppose you ll 
 have at least ten days more of this." 
 
 He had opened the letter while speaking and 
 handed it to her. 
 
 " Why don t you read it to me yourself ? " she 
 asked. 
 
 "Because I d rather you should read it. It s 
 a very extraordinary production. He s not diplo 
 matic your father. It s lucky he s not an ambas- 
 
THE E ALSTONS. 119 
 
 sailor or one of those creatures. He wouldn t 
 cover his country with glory in making treaties." 
 
 Katharine was already running her eye over the 
 page, and her face expressed her surprise. She 
 even turned the sheet over and looked at the signa 
 ture to persuade herself that her father had really 
 written what she was reading, -for it was hard to 
 believe. As she proceeded, her brows bent, and her 
 lip curled scornfully. Then all at once she laughed 
 with genuine, though bitter, amusement the laugh 
 that comes from the head, not from the heart. 
 Then she grew grave again and read on to the 
 end. When she had finished, her hand with the 
 letter in it fell upon her knee and she looked into 
 Ralston s face with parted lips, as though helpless 
 to express her astonishment. 
 
 In any jury of honour the communication would 
 have been accepted as a formal apology for every 
 thing her father had done, and for anything he 
 might have done inadvertently. Ralston was 
 wrong in saying that Alexander Junior had no 
 talent for diplomacy. Consciously or uncon 
 sciously, he had succeeded in writing a letter in 
 which he took back every insulting word he had 
 spoken of Ralston, either to his face or behind his 
 back, without exactly saying that he meant to do 
 so. He took the position of considering it a 
 matter of the highest importance to sift the truth 
 out of what he called the labyrinth of evil speak- 
 
120 THE EALSTONS. 
 
 ing, lying, and slandering, by which lie was 
 assailed on every side. The confusion of similes 
 at this point was almost grand in its chaotic inco 
 herence, and it was here that Katharine had 
 laughed, as well she might. The honour of the 
 family, said Alexander, was at stake, and he had 
 accordingly performed the operation of sifting the 
 attacking and mendacious labyrinth. The result 
 of his labour of love for Kalston s reputation, in 
 the interests of the family honour, was much sim 
 pler than his alleged mode of getting at it. For 
 he did not hesitate to say that he had ascertained, 
 beyond the possibility of doubt that the stories 
 concerning John s intemperance were lies and 
 the word was written with conscientious calli 
 graphy. There was to be no mistake there. Alex 
 ander thought it due to Ralston, as indeed it 
 was, to make the statement at once, as the ultimate 
 expression of a carefully formed opinion. With 
 regards to any other differences which there might 
 have been between them, he thought that amicable 
 settlements were always more Christian, and gen 
 erally more satisfactory in the end. He should 
 never forget that he had parted from his dear 
 uncle in wrath. Here Katharine s lip curled as 
 she remembered what the nature of that parting 
 had been. He was sure that the wish of the 
 dear departed would have been that all parties 
 should seek peace and ensue it. " To ensue " was 
 
THE R ALSTONS. 121 
 
 a verb which Katharine had never understood, 
 and she had always suspected that it was a mis 
 take in the printing, but the quotation sounded 
 well, and brought up the rear with a clang of 
 armour of righteousness, so to say. The phrase 
 appeared to be thrown out as a suggestion as 
 a very broad hint, in fact, seeing that it came 
 from him who had received the blow, and not from 
 him who had dealt it. 
 
 There was much more to the same effect. It 
 was a very long letter, covering two sheets of the 
 Trust Company s foolscap very fine bond paper 
 with a heading in excellent good taste. But the 
 most remarkable point of all had been reserved for 
 the last paragraph. Therein Alexander Lauder- 
 dale said that he did not abandon all hope, even 
 after what had occurred, of cementing a union be 
 tween the two surviving branches of the Lauder- 
 dales, upon the worldly advantages of which his 
 delicacy would not allow him to dwell, but in 
 which he thought it possible and even probable, 
 that all family differences might be forgotten on 
 earth. Whether he expected that they should 
 afterwards be revived in heaven, or in a place more 
 appropriate, he did not add. But he signed him 
 self sincerely John Ralston s cousin, Alexander 
 Lauderdale Junior, and it was quite clear that he 
 wished all he had said to be believed. 
 
 " Now isn t that the most remarkable production 
 
122 THE RALSTONS. 
 
 of human genius that you ve ever seen? " asked 
 John, as Katharine dropped her hand. 
 
 She slowly nodded her head, her lips still parted 
 in wonder, and her eyes looked far away. 
 
 " It came over to the bank by a messenger of the 
 Trust Company," said John. "So I wrote an an 
 swer on the bank paper " 
 
 "What did you say?" asked Katharine, with 
 sudden anxiety, dreading lest he had given way to 
 some new outburst of temper. 
 
 "What should I say? I said it was all right. 
 That I was glad he had found that I wasn t quite 
 so bad as he d thought. And I added at the end 
 because he d put it there that if there was any 
 thing that I hankered for and believed I was fitted 
 for, it was to be used up as cement for the family 
 union apply while fresh that sort of thing. 
 Only of course I put it nicely. Oh you needn t 
 be afraid! I wasn t going to do anything idiotic. 
 Besides, I see what he s driving at. It s as plain 
 as day." 
 
 "What? I can -t understand it, myself it all 
 seems so strange and unexpected, arid unlike him." 
 
 " It s as clear as day, dear. He knows he must 
 come round some day, and he s doing it now, so that 
 we may be all patched up and peaceful before the 
 hearing about the will that s it. You know if 
 all the next of kin appear together against the dis 
 tant relations, it influences the court s opinion, 
 
THE EALSTONS. 123 
 
 when the court has a choice of opinions, as it very 
 likely will have in this case." 
 
 " Then you think the will is likely to be broken? " 
 
 "I don t know. They re saying to-day that one 
 of the witnesses is mentioned in the will in the 
 list of servants who get annuities, and that if the 
 witnessing s wrong, the will can t be probated, as 
 they call it. I don t understand those things." 
 
 "And the Brights will get nothing." 
 
 "Nothing." 
 
 "Poor Ham!" 
 
 "Yes well he s got enough to live on with 
 out forty millions more." 
 
 " It would have been a consolation to him oh 
 
 Jack ! You were right don t say, I told you so 
 
 please ! This afternoon he wanted to well he 
 
 did ask me he thought it was off between you 
 
 and me." 
 
 "I told you no, darling, I won t say it," an 
 swered Ealston. "Give me a kiss, and I won t 
 say it." 
 
 He did not say it. 
 
CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 LOVE, Mrs. Lauderdale had said in her absent- 
 minded way, was not at all like other passions. The 
 words remained in Katharine s memory and pleased 
 her and comforted her in a manner which would 
 have surprised the elder woman, had she guessed 
 that she had unintentionally drawn music from a 
 human soul with one of those dull and stereotyped 
 phrases which people fall back upon when they 
 cannot or will not explain themselves. 
 
 But that was precisely what Katharine wished to 
 believe that love was not at all like other passions, 
 that it bore not the slightest resemblance in its 
 nature to those which she had seen asserting them 
 selves so strongly around her, and of which she was 
 beginning to understand something by proxy, as it 
 were. For though she had said that her love for 
 John Kalston was like her father s love of money, 
 she did not in the least wish to believe it. She 
 attached to love the highest interpretation of which 
 it is capable; she attributed to it the purest and 
 most disinterested motives ; she gave it in her 
 thoughts the strongest and best qualities which 
 anything can have. 
 
 124 
 
THE R ALSTONS. 125 
 
 She had a right to do so, and though she sought 
 an explanation of her right, she was not disturbed 
 because she found none. She dreamed of theories 
 vague, but as beautiful as they were untenable, as 
 men of ancient times imagined impossible, but 
 deeply poetic, interpretations of nature and her 
 doings. Her soul, and the soul of the man she 
 loved had elected one another of old from amongst 
 myriads ; neither could give light without the other, 
 nor could either live without the other s life. To 
 gether they were one immortal ; separate they must 
 perish. The good of each was the triumphant 
 enemy of evil in the other, and the evil in both was 
 gradually to be driven out and forgotten in the per 
 fection of the whole. 
 
 All that was contemplative in her nature was 
 entranced before the exquisite beauty of her imag 
 ined deity. Little by little, as other attachments 
 were rudely shaken, broken, and destroyed, the one 
 of all others which she most valued grew stronger 
 and fairer in the wreck of the rest; the one passion 
 which she saw was good towered in her soul s field 
 as an archangel among devils, spotless, severe, and 
 invincible. The angel was not John Ralston, nor 
 were the devils those persons with whom her life 
 had to do. They all had other features, immortal 
 natures, and transcendent reasoning. At that time 
 there was in her the foundation of a great mythol 
 ogy of ideals, good and bad, personified and almost 
 
126 THE RALSTON X. 
 
 named, among which love was king over all the 
 rest, endowed with divine attributes, with knowledge 
 of the human soul, and power to move the human 
 heart, knowing all motives and divining all im 
 pulses, a being to whom a prayer might be said in 
 trouble, and whose beneficent hand would be swift 
 and strong to help. Love, in her theory of the 
 world, was the prime cause, the intelligent director, 
 and at the same time the ultimate end. She and 
 her husband were under his immediate and especial 
 protection. If they were faithful to him, he would 
 shield them from harm, and make them immortal 
 with himself beyond the stars. If they denied 
 him that is, if they ceased to love one another 
 his face would grow dark, his right hand would be 
 full of semi-biblical terrors, and he would abandon 
 them to the wicked will of the devils, which were 
 the bad passions the girl saw in others, to be tor 
 mented until they themselves should be extinguished 
 in eternal night. 
 
 Practically, Katharine had constructed a religion 
 for herself out of the most human thing in her 
 nature, since she had lost the bearings of anything 
 higher in the storms through which she had passed. 
 It was by no means an unassailable religion, nor a 
 very logical one, being derived altogether from the 
 exaltation of the most human of all passions, and 
 having its details deduced from the one-sided ex 
 perience of an innocent child. But that very inno 
 
THE R ALSTONS. 127 
 
 cence, that very impossibility of conceiving that 
 there should be anything not good in love that was 
 true, gave it an enormous force against the powers 
 which were evidently evil. There was an appear 
 ance of inexorably sound reason, too, in the con 
 clusion that all human motive was passion of one 
 kind or another, and that all passions but love were 
 bad and self-destructive in the end, having their 
 foundation in selfishness, and not in the other self 
 that fills love-dreams. 
 
 Since passion and motive were one and the same, 
 thought Katharine, there could be no question as 
 to which of them all was the best, since true love 
 such as hers was the only passion that had no one 
 of the seven capital sins attached to it. Such an 
 argument was manifestly unanswerable when it 
 came from her, and she rejoiced in the security of 
 knowing herself to be right in the midst of many 
 wrongs, which is one of the highest satisfactions of 
 human vanity for the young or the old. Day by 
 day, through the changing events of the past year, 
 the conviction had grown, until it was now the 
 dominant cause and mover of her being, and was 
 assuming superhuman proportions in her estimated 
 values of things transcendent. 
 
 Paul Griggs, with his vaguely expressed explana 
 tions of things which meant much, and meant it 
 clearly, to himself, had unconsciously helped Kath 
 arine to deify love at the expense, and to the ruin, 
 
128 THE RALSTONS. 
 
 of any form of religious belief to which she might 
 have been inclined. He was assuredly not one of 
 those men who seem to make it their business to 
 destroy the convictions of others, and to give them 
 nothing in exchange for what was consolation, if 
 not salvation. He was, at least, a man who believed 
 in belief, so to say, and who, perhaps, believed many 
 things which must have seemed utterly incredible 
 to ordinary beings of ordinary experience. But he 
 was fond of stating the results he had reached, in a 
 careless way, which seemed less than half-serious, 
 without giving the smallest hint as to the means 
 by which he had obtained them. The statements 
 themselves were fragmentary : here a hand, there 
 a head, now a foot, and next a bit of the shoulders. 
 He was not conscious of his fault. To him the 
 image was always present and complete. It seemed 
 to him that he was but calling attention to one 
 point or another of the visible whole, when it seemed 
 to others as though he were offering them broken 
 bits, often unrecognizable as belonging to any pos 
 sible image whatsoever. Others sometimes put the 
 bits together in their own way. 
 
 He was not in any sense an ordinary being, nor 
 one to be judged by ordinary standards, though he 
 rarely claimed the right to be treated as an excep 
 tion. The difference between him and the average 
 man lay not in any very unusual gifts, and many 
 might have been found who, knowing him well, 
 
THE RALSTONS. 129 
 
 would have denied that there was any radical differ 
 ence at all. He would certainly have taken little 
 pains to persuade these of the contrary. Outwardly, 
 he was a man of letters who had met with consider 
 able success in his career about as much as justifies 
 good-natured people in making a lion of an author 
 or an artist, but no more. He had written many 
 books, and had learned his business in the bitter 
 struggles which attend the commencement of an 
 average literary man s life, when the fight for bare 
 existence forces the slender talent to bear burdens 
 too heavy for its narrow shoulders, along paths not 
 easy to tread for those most sure of foot. He had 
 some valuable gifts, however, which had stood him in 
 good stead. He possessed almost incredible physi 
 cal strength in certain ways, without the heavy, 
 sanguine temperament which requires regular ex 
 ercise and perpetual nourishment. His endurance 
 was beyond all comparison greater than that of men 
 usually considered very strong, and he had been 
 able to bear the strain of excessive labour which 
 would have killed or paralyzed most people. That 
 was one of the secrets of his success. Secondly, he 
 had acquired an unusual mechanical facility in the 
 handling of language and the arrangement of the 
 matter he produced, so as to give it the most 
 favourable appearance possible. His imagination 
 was not abundant, but he did the best he could with 
 it under all circumstances, and answered all critics 
 
 VOL. II. 9 
 
180 THE EALSTONS. 
 
 with the unassailable statement that he wrote for a 
 living and did the best he could, and sincerely re 
 gretted that he was not Walter Scott, nor Goethe, 
 nor Thackeray, nor any of the great ones. That 
 was his misfortune, and not his fault. People 
 flattered him, he said, by telling him that he could 
 do better if he tried. It was not true. He could 
 not do better. 
 
 But in all these points he did not differ very 
 widely from the average man who attains to a 
 certain permanent and generally admitted success 
 by driving his faculties to their utmost in the 
 struggle for a living. The chief difference be 
 tween him and other men had been produced by 
 an experience of life under varying circumstances, 
 such as an ordinary individual rarely gets, and 
 possibly by the long-continued action of unusual 
 emotions with which this study, or history, of 
 Katharine Lauderdale can have nothing to do, and 
 which did not directly concern his literary career 
 nor his relations with the world at large, though 
 the outward result was to make unthinking people 
 say that there was something mysterious about 
 him, which either attracted them or repelled them, 
 according to their temperaments and tastes. At all 
 events, his life had tended to the creation of a form 
 of belief and a mode of judgment which seemed 
 very simple to himself, and perfectly incompre 
 hensible to almost every one else. He showed 
 
THE ^ALSTONS. 131 
 
 other people fragments and bits of it, when he 
 was in the humour, and sometimes seemed sur 
 prised that those who heard him should not also 
 understand him. One of his fundamental articles 
 of faith seemed to be that life as a possession was 
 of no value whatsoever : a doctrine which attracted 
 very few. But those who knew him and watched 
 him were sure that there was no affectation in that 
 part of his creed, though they might hesitate in 
 finding reasons for his belief in it. It was strongly 
 contrasted with his immovable faith not in a 
 life to come, for he despised the expression but 
 in the present fact of immortality. The mere fact 
 that he laughed at the idea of past and ( future 
 in their relation to the soul, sufficiently confused 
 most of those who had heard him talk of such things. 
 Katharine Lauderdale had neither the man s ex 
 perience to help her in following him, nor any 
 superior genius of insight to lead her to his conclu 
 sions by what one might call the shorthand of rea 
 son intuition. She was simply attracted without 
 understanding, as so many people are nowadays, 
 by everything which promises a glimpse at the 
 unknown, if not a knowledge of the unknowable. 
 She took the longing for the power of compre 
 hension, the fragments for the whole, and the 
 crumbs for the bread of life. It was not unnatural, 
 considering the tendencies of modern culture, but 
 it was unfortunate. 
 
132 THE RALSTONS. 
 
 She halved her soul, and gave John Ralston his 
 share of it, though he had a very good one of his 
 own. She elaborated a theory of interchangeable 
 and interdependent selves for herself and him, 
 which momentarily satisfied all her wants. She 
 took his self with her own into the temple of 
 love, and bade it bow down and worship with her 
 the glorious deification of human passion which 
 she had set up there. And his imaginary self, 
 being really but that part of her own being which 
 she called his, consented and obeyed, and did as 
 she did. And the incense rose before the shrine, 
 and the love-angels chanted love s litany of praise, 
 while Love himself smiled down upon her, and 
 told her that he was immortal, and would make 
 her deathless for her belief in him. The temple 
 was beautiful beyond compare ; the deity was 
 spotless, fair of form, and noble of feature ; the 
 heart that worshipped was fresh, unsullied, and 
 sincere. There had never been anything more 
 perfect than it all was in Katharine s imagination ; 
 and there could never, in all the long life that was 
 before her, be anything so perfect again. John 
 Ralston, single-hearted and deeply loving as he 
 was, could never have any conception of the 
 divinity his maiden wife adored in secret. Her 
 instinct told her that though he was with her, the 
 manliness in him looked at the world from another 
 point of view ; and in all their many exchanges of 
 
THE E ALSTONS. 133 
 
 thought she never spoke of her visions of blessed 
 ness. The fact that she kept them to herself gave 
 them more strength, and preserved their intact 
 beauty in all its splendid strength and all its in 
 finite delicacy. 
 
 In a certain way she owed to Paul Griggs some 
 of her sweetest and most exquisite thoughts, of 
 which the memory must be with her all her life, 
 long after the humanity of truth supplanted the 
 dignity of the ideal. Not that he had taught her 
 anything of what he believed and thought that he 
 knew. She, like the rest, had received only frag 
 ments of his meaning; but out of them she had 
 constructed a whole which was beautiful in itself, 
 if nothing else as lovers of art have dreamed an 
 unbroken ideal of perfection upon bits of marble 
 unearthed from the grave of a great thing de 
 stroyed, moulding theories upon it, and satisfying 
 their tastes through it, each in his own way, though 
 perhaps all very far from what was once the truth. 
 
 But, on the other hand, Griggs was partly re 
 sponsible for the eclipse of what, in her nature, 
 as in all, was essentially necessary. She did not 
 at the present time feel the loss, if it were really 
 a loss, and not a mere temporary shutting off 
 of all higher possibilities from her mental sight. 
 She did not, perhaps, fully realize the distance to 
 which she had gone in unbelief in substituting one 
 ideal for another; and she would have been pro- 
 
134 777^ ItALSTOlfti. 
 
 foundly shocked had any one told her that she 
 had at the present time wholly abandoned any 
 thing approaching to a form of Christianity. She 
 would have reasoned that she said prayers, as she 
 supposed other people did ; but she would have 
 found it hard to say what she thought when she 
 said them. Nine-tenths of them were for John 
 Ralston, and were in reality addressed to the 
 divinity in the love temple the remaining ones 
 were mere words, and said in a perfunctory way, 
 with a sort of sincerity of manner, but with no 
 devotion whatever, and no attempt to strengthen 
 them with a belief that they might be answered. 
 She had been taught to say them, and continued 
 to say them with the conscientiousness which is 
 born of habit, before there can be any thought 
 connected with the thing done. 
 
 Griggs and his talk had only contributed to this 
 result. The quick and noiseless destruction of 
 Katharine s beliefs had been chiefly brought about 
 by the actions of the persons with whom she had 
 to do, and by the collapse of their principles in 
 the face of difficulties, temptations and tests. It 
 was natural that she should ask herself of what 
 use her father s blind faith and rigid practice 
 could be, when neither the one nor the other could 
 diminish his avarice nor check his cruelty when 
 anything or any one stood between him and money. 
 She was not to be blamed if she doubted the 
 
THE EALSTONS. 135 
 
 efficacy of the true faith, when she saw her religious 
 mother half mad with envy of her own daughter s 
 youth and beauty. As for the rest of them all, 
 they did not pretend to be religious people. Their 
 misdeeds killed her faith in human nature, which 
 is, perhaps, the ordinary key to that state of mind 
 which believes in God, though it is by no means 
 the only one. 
 
 Had she been able to discern and analyze what 
 was going on in her own heart, she would have 
 seen that her difficulty was the old one. The 
 existence of evil in the world disproved to her 
 the existence of a Supreme Power which was all 
 good. But she neither analyzed nor discerned. 
 It was sufficient for her that the earthly evil facts 
 existed to assure her that the heavenly, transcen 
 dent Power was an impossibility. She never made 
 the statement to herself, but she unconsciously took 
 it for granted in substituting one divinity for the 
 other. John Ralston said that he believed in 
 things and did, vaguely. But she had never 
 found it possible to bring him to any concise state 
 ment of what his beliefs were. And yet he was, 
 in her loving opinion, by far the morally best of 
 all the men and women she had ever known. He 
 did not go to church every Sunday, as her father 
 did. She believed that he never went to church 
 at all, in fact. But there was no denying the 
 superiority of a man who had bravely overcome 
 
136 THE RALSTON S. 
 
 such temptation as John Ralston had formerly 
 had to deal with, over one who, like her father, 
 believed, trembled, and nevertheless gave himself 
 up wholly to his evil passion. 
 
 So she had lost her belief in human nature. 
 But as she could not afford to lose her belief in 
 the man she loved, she had taken him out of the 
 rest of humanity, and made him the half of herself, 
 so that they two stood quite alone in the world, 
 and had their temple to themselves, and their little 
 god to themselves, and their faith and belief and 
 religious practice altogether to themselves, though 
 John Ralston was quite ignorant of the fact. But 
 that made no difference to Katharine. He was in 
 her earthly paradise, though he did not know it, 
 and was as sincere a worshipper of the divinity as 
 she herself. 
 
 In this way she excepted both him and her from 
 common humanity, and was sure that she had 
 found the true path which leads to the fields of 
 the blessed. Love was the centre of hope and 
 the circumference of life ; it was the air she 
 breathed, the thoughts she thought, and the actions 
 she performed. There was nothing else. And since 
 eternity was the present, as Griggs said, there was 
 no hereafter, and so there could never be anything 
 but love, even after men ceased to count time. 
 In the midst of the prosaic surroundings of a 
 society life, as in the midst of the great and evil 
 
THE RALSTONS. 137 
 
 passions which do devilish deeds just below the 
 calm, luxurious and dull surface, there was one 
 true idealist, one maiden soul that dreamed of 
 love s immortality, and placed hers in love s heart 
 of hearts. 
 
CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 THE letter Alexander Lauderdale Junior had 
 written to Ralston will have given some idea of 
 what he was willing to sacrifice for the sake of 
 having the will annulled. A moral degeneration 
 had begun in him, which might go far in the end. 
 The passion he had so long tried to conceal, with 
 considerable success, and which had fed for many 
 years on a small object, was stirred up and set at 
 large by the enormous wealth now at stake. The 
 man s pride shrank away before it, and even his 
 rigid principles wavered. He began .to make those 
 compromises with his conscience which circum 
 stances suggested, and he forced his religious habits 
 to help in doing the dirty work of his greed. In a 
 lower walk of life, perhaps, such a man, in such a 
 situation, would have committed crimes to obtain 
 the money. Alexander Junior robbed his own soul, 
 and murdered his own conscience. We shall know 
 some day what difference there is between that 
 and murder in the first degree. 
 
 It was not an affair of a few days. Such a char 
 acter could not change easily nor quickly, either 
 for better or for worse. For years the thought of 
 138 
 
THE EALSTONS. 139 
 
 his uncle s money had been constantly present 
 with him, and for many years he had dreamt the 
 miser s dream of endless gold. There was nothing 
 new in it, nor, of itself, had it ever disturbed the 
 equanimity of his well-practised righteousness. It 
 had never even occurred to him that in not spending 
 his hoarded income he was wronging any one. He 
 had regarded his wife s painting and selling her 
 miniatures as a wholesome occupation, and as what 
 certain persons call a moral discipline. The prin 
 ciples of economy which he forced his house 
 hold to practise were agreeable to the ascetic 
 disposition which in a greater or less degree 
 showed itself in the Scotch blood of the Lauder- 
 dales. Economy was a means of feeling that he 
 was better than other people, and, axiomatically, it 
 cost nothing, and helped to satisfy his main passion. 
 Only his sense of social importance, which was 
 strong and hereditary, had hindered him from 
 actually reducing his establishment to a condition 
 of positive penury. But that would have been im 
 possible, because it would have been impossible to 
 conceal it. He preserved the limits so carefully 
 that, while every one said that the Lauderdales 
 lived very quietly, no one ever thought of saying 
 that they lived poorly. Then, too, Mrs. Lauder- 
 dale was herself an excellent manager, and had 
 long been deceived by her husband s assurance that 
 he was poor and wholly dependent upon the salary 
 
140 THE R ALSTONS. 
 
 he received from the Trust Company, in which he 
 held no interest, as he could always easily prove. 
 As a matter of fact, though he practically directed 
 the affairs of the Company himself, he considered 
 United States bonds as a safer investment. He 
 did not consider that he was deceiving his wife, 
 either. In his own opinion he was poor. What 
 was a million ? There were some who had nearly 
 two hundred millions. Scores, perhaps hundreds, 
 in the country had more than fifty millions. What 
 was a million ? Was not a man poor who had but 
 one dollar when his neighbour had two hundred ? 
 It was no business of his wife s, nor of any one else, 
 if he had something put away. It had always 
 been possible, within the limits of the law, that his 
 uncle might leave him nothing. So he had practised 
 economy, and grown rich secretly. 
 
 But all his hardly hoarded savings were but as a 
 drop to the sea of gold which surged upon the 
 horizon of his hopes when he thought of Robert 
 Lauderdale s death, and which rushed forward all 
 at once to his very feet, as soon as the old man 
 was really dead. It washed away his elaborately 
 drawn pattern of morality, as the tide obliterates 
 the figures a child has scrawled upon the sand ; it 
 rose by quick degrees, and flowed higher than the 
 rigid landmarks which he had driven like stakes 
 into the flat expanses of his soul ; it boiled up and 
 sucked back the earth from beneath the very foun- 
 
THE R ALSTONS. 141 
 
 dations of the chapel of ease he had built for his 
 conscience, over his own little spring of wealth, 
 when all the shore had been dry and arid, and the 
 golden ocean very far off. 
 
 The long cherished hope had prepared the cir 
 cumstances for the reality. He meant now to have 
 at least half the fortune, or perish in the attempt 
 to get it. That is, he was ready to spend even 
 what he had saved, in order to get possession of 
 the greater sum. And he was far more ready to 
 spend other things, such as his pride and his man 
 liness. He was ready and willing to lay the shears 
 to his gai ment of righteousness, and to clip and cut 
 it to the very limits of moral decency, leaving but 
 enough to cover the nakedness of his miserly soul. 
 
 Therefore he had written that letter to John 
 Ralston, and one something like it to John s mother, 
 believing it probable that she had been told by her 
 son of much that had taken place. His lawyer had 
 told him that if the will were probated, and if it 
 became necessary to attack it on other grounds, it 
 would be of the highest importance that the next 
 of kin should act in concert against the distant re 
 lations who had been so highly favoured. It became 
 his business, therefore, to make sure of having the 
 Kalstons on his side. 
 
 He distrusted them, after what had happened. 
 He knew that they cared little for money, and 
 much for a certain kind of sentiment which was 
 
142 THE EALSTONS. 
 
 quite foreign to him, and he believed them capable 
 of opposing him, merely in order that the dead 
 man s wishes might be carried out. The situation 
 in which he found himself was an unexpected one, 
 too. He had been taken by surprise and obliged 
 to act at short notice, and he was no diplomatist. 
 He merely took the first means which offered for 
 carrying out his lawyer s idea. The will itself was 
 of an unusual character. He had expected that his 
 uncle would either divide the fortune between the 
 next of kin, in trusts for their children, with a 
 legacy to the Brights, or that he would make some 
 thing like an equal distribution amongst all the 
 living members of the family. He had long cher 
 ished, however, the secret hope that as his own 
 branch of the family was the most numerous, and 
 as he himself had such an unassailable character 
 for uprightness and economy, the largest share 
 might be placed in his hands for administration, if 
 not actually as his own property. He had been 
 disappointed, and he considered the will a piece of 
 flagrant injustice. 
 
 Many outsiders shared his opinion, and asked 
 one another why the Brights should have so much, 
 and Alexander Junior had the satisfaction of feel 
 ing that his action would be approved by a large 
 number of hard-headed business men amongst his 
 acquaintances. His lawyer, too, was encouraged by 
 this fact, and looked forward confidently to pocket- 
 
THE ^ALSTONS. 143 
 
 ing an enormous fee. He was a man as hard 
 headed, as upright, and as spotless in reputation as 
 his client, and the high morality of their united 
 forces was imposing. 
 
 If Alexander had conceived it possible that Mrs. 
 Ralston and her son could agree to have no opinion 
 in the matter, but to abide by their lawyer s judg 
 ment, and let him act as he thought best, he might 
 have spared himself the trouble and humiliation of 
 writing the letter to John. He would have known 
 that Mr. Henry Brett was not the man to advise 
 his clients against taking their rights without any 
 regard to sentiment, and Alexander s joy was great 
 when he found that Brett was with him a much 
 younger man than his own lawyer, but keen, busi 
 ness-like, and of excellent standing. Brett had 
 married the widow of the notorious forger and de 
 faulter, John Darche, and had diminished neither 
 his popularity nor his credit by so doing. 
 
 Alexander reproached himself in a way that would 
 have surprised his former virtue, for having so bit 
 terly opposed Katharine s marriage with John 
 Ralston. He really could not conceive how he 
 could ever have attached so much importance to 
 the young fellow s youthful follies. It was the 
 most natural thing in the world^ as it seemed 
 to him now, that with the prospect of boundless 
 wealth the boy should have idled away his time 
 and amused himself as other boys did. His mind 
 
144 THE EALSTONS. 
 
 was full of excuses for Ralston. What he could 
 not pardon, he allowed to be swamped by the gold- 
 flood as soon as it presented itself. That one un^ 
 pardonable thing was the blow he had received. 
 When he could not help thinking of it, and when 
 it stung his manliness for he was a brave man 
 he took pains to recollect that he had at once got 
 John by the throat, and would probably have 
 broken some of his bones for him, if Katharine s 
 hurt had not interrupted the struggle. It was 
 not as though he had received a blow tamely, 
 without retaliation. His blood had been up, and 
 Ralston must have got the worst of it if circum 
 stances had not obliged him to pause in his ven 
 geance. Nothing can equal the unconscious sophistry 
 of a man whose main passion requires that he shall 
 not feel that he has been insulted. 
 
 And so matters proceeded. The Brights lawyer 
 did his best to force the will to probate. The 
 Lauderdales and Ralstons legal advisers created 
 delays, and as they were in possession of the will, 
 they were able to prolong the situation, and prepare 
 for action. Old Robert Lauderdale s lawyer, Mr. 
 Allen, was moreover their ally. He did not believe 
 that the will was good, and resented the way in 
 which his deceased client had surreptitiously em 
 ployed a young fellow like Russell, before men 
 tioned, to draw it up, after he, Allen, had drawn up 
 one which had been irreproachable. The first point 
 
NIVERSfTY 
 
 - 
 
 THE R ALSTONS. 145 
 
 that arose was in connection with one of the 
 witnesses, who was unluckily not forthcoming. 
 The signature was that of one John Simons. In 
 the list of servants who were to receive annuities 
 appeared the name of one f J. Simmons/ a groom, 
 who, strange to say, was not to be found either. 
 The Lauderdale lawyers maintained that the wit 
 ness and the servant were the same person, and 
 that there had been a mistake in spelling the name 
 in the list ; a fact which would have debarred the 
 will from probate, as no legatee can be a witness. 
 This forced the Bright lawyers to ask time in order 
 to find either the witness or the groom, or both, and 
 meanwhile the other side looked into the will itself 
 in search of irregularities connected with the sus 
 pension of the power of alienation, and the like. 
 Mr. George W. Kussell, who had drawn up the will, 
 looked on with his hands in his pockets, and was 
 interested in the show from a purely artistic point 
 of view. 
 
 The parties began to rage furiously together. 
 Alexander Junior did not hesitate to say that he 
 remembered the groom Simmons, and that his name 
 was John. He assuredly believed that he did re 
 member the fact, or he would not have said so. 
 But Hamilton Bright remembered, with equal cer 
 tainty, that the man had more than once gone with 
 him when he had been consulted, as an authority, 
 about the buying of horses for old Robert, and 
 
 VOL. II. 10 
 
146 THE R ALSTONS. 
 
 that his name was James. He had called him 
 James, and the man had answered to his name. 
 That was proof positive. The servants of the 
 accused did not know anything about it. The man 
 had always been called Persimmons, because he 
 lisped a little. He had been badly kicked by a 
 horse during Mr. Lauderdale s last days, and had 
 been sent to St. Luke s Hospital. At the hospital 
 it was ascertained that he had been discharged in 
 a few days. He had not come back to Mr. Lauder- 
 dale s. He probably had some good reason for not 
 coming back. It had been one of his duties to 
 buy certain things for the stables. Possibly he had 
 been dishonest and feared discovery. Mr. Russell, 
 privately questioned, said that the man who had 
 signed the will as a witness might have been a ser 
 vant, and added, a few seconds later, that as he 
 had not been present when the will was signed, he 
 did not know. He was young enough to laugh to 
 himself at his own pretended hesitation. He had 
 drawn up the will. When or where it had been 
 signed and witnessed was beyond his knowledge. 
 
 The other witnesses said that from his appear 
 ance the man might have been a respectable ser 
 vant. He was clean shaven, and might have been 
 a groom. They had not heard him speak, so that 
 they did not know whether he lisped or not. They 
 had never seen him before, and he had been in the 
 room when they had been called in. They had 
 
THE It ALSTONS. 147 
 
 seen him write his name, and were prepared to 
 swear to it. They should also recognize him if they 
 saw him. Mr. liussell, privately questioned, said 
 that he had copied the name <J. Simmons with a 
 list of names given him by Mr. Lauderdale for the 
 purpose. It had not struck him that it was in 
 formal to insert only the initial, since there was no 
 other Simmons, a servant, in the house at the time. 
 He was told severely, by the Brights lawyer, that it 
 was. He said he regretted the fact, and put his 
 hands into his pockets and looked on again. 
 
 Crowdie, who never swore, anathematized Alex 
 ander Junior in the dialect of the Paris studios, a 
 language which Alexander could not have under 
 stood. Bright, who had driven cattle in the Naci- 
 miento Valley, spoke differently. Aunt Maggie s 
 charity suddenly ceased to be universal, and ex 
 cluded both Lauderdales and Ralstons from its 
 benefits. From Washington, Charlotte Slayback 
 wrote an unusually affectionate letter to her sister 
 Katharine, in which she playfully compared the 
 fair-haired aunt Maggie and Hamilton Bright to a 
 lioness and her whelp, and all the tribe of Lauder 
 dales to poor little innocent lambs with blue rib 
 bons round their necks. Benjamin Slayback of 
 Nevada, Member of Congress, said nothing. He 
 was a singular man, having mines of silver of his 
 own, and his solitary pleasure was in giving his 
 wife much money, because she had none of her 
 
148 THE RALSTONS. 
 
 own. He reflected that if she were suddenly made 
 rich in her own right, his pleasure would be greatly 
 diminished. But on the whole, he believed in 
 respecting dead men s wishes, in spite of legal for 
 malities. He had known wills made by word of 
 mouth by men who had bullets in them before wit 
 nesses who had put the bullets there, but who were 
 scrupulous in carrying out the instructions of the 
 departed. He was a lawyer himself, however, and 
 took an interest in the case. He talked of running 
 up to New York, from Friday to Monday, to have a 
 look at things, and a guess at which way the cat 
 would jump. 
 
 Then Leek, the butler, who was anxious about 
 his annuity, found Persimmons, the groom, in a 
 down-town stable, and showed him how important 
 it was for them both that he should at once go and 
 swear that he was not the John Simons who had 
 signed the will, which he immediately did. But 
 on being confronted with the other witnesses, they 
 said that the signer had been clean shaven, and 
 about of the same height ; that the room had been 
 dimly lighted, and that they were not prepared to 
 swear that Persimmons was not the signer. Then 
 Persimmons, being indignant, and having had two 
 goes of whiskey with Leek, lifted up his voice, and 
 swore to his own identity, and gave an account of 
 himself, and declared that his name was not and 
 never had been John Simons, nor J. Simmons, nor 
 
THE RALSTON 8. 149 
 
 Persimmons, because he was not a Simmons at all, 
 but one James Thwaito, and had changed his name 
 when lie left Kngland, because he had been unjustly 
 disqualified as a jockey, for roping Mr. Cranstoun s 
 mare in the Thousand Guineas. All of which 
 further complicated matters, while the other wit 
 nesses grew more and more conscientiously sure 
 that he was the man who had signed with them, 
 and wished to see him in a brown jacket. Per 
 simmons owned that lie possessed such a garment, 
 but refused to put it on to play Punch and Judy 
 for a couple of noodles, which almost produced 
 a free fight in Mr. Brett s private office, and did 
 not improve things at all, for the two witnesses 
 promptly swore that this was the same Persim 
 mons who had signed with them, and they should 
 have liked to know whether a disqualified jockey 
 were a proper person to sign with respectable per 
 sons like themselves they should like to know 
 that, once for all. And they departed, much ruffled. 
 Privately questioned, Mr. Russell said that he had 
 given Mr. Lauderdale no advice as to the selection 
 of his witnesses. He supposed that Mr. Lauder 
 dale, who had made at least two other wills in the 
 course of his life, might have been expected to un 
 derstand what was required of witnesses. The 
 Brights legal adviser told him that it was the duty 
 of a lawyer to tell his client how to make the signa 
 tures on a will legal. Mr. Russell thrust his hands 
 
150 THE RALSTONS. 
 
 into his pockets and looked on. But the Brights 
 lawyer began to think that things looked queer, 
 and that he might not get the will through probate 
 after all. He had not expected such a check at 
 the outset. He had anticipated a fight over much 
 more complicated questions. 
 
 The Brights tried to ascertain whether the court 
 would admit the will to probate on the testimony 
 of the two reliable witnesses. It seemed pretty 
 clear that the court would not hear of it. There 
 had been a recent case, argued the Brights, in which 
 the testimony of one witness had been held to be 
 sufficient to establish the signatures of the others, 
 though at least one of the others was living at the 
 time in a remote part of the world. They were 
 told that this was all very well, but that in the case 
 quoted there had been no question of any one of the 
 witnesses being a legatee, still less of that one hav 
 ing given an assumed name and not being an Ameri 
 can citizen, and that furthermore, in that case, 
 there had been no prospect of any litigation arising 
 between the heirs, because there had been only 
 one heir, and excepting two small ^ legacies, he 
 would have got the fortune just as surely if the 
 deceased had died intestate; and finally, that the 
 Brights had better not come into court with any 
 such trumped-up case, which was unkind to the 
 Brights, because the will was in their favour, and 
 they were not trumping up a case, but defending 
 one. 
 
THE RALSTONS. 151 
 
 Then Persimmons, finding that eighty millions 
 of money depended upon his having signed or not 
 signed the will, and that no one had, as y et, offered 
 him so much as a drink, save Leek, the butler, went 
 privately to Alexander Lauderdale Junior, and 
 made certain propositions which immediately re 
 sulted in his being kicked into the middle of Broad 
 Street by an unfeeling person in brass buttons, 
 who answered to the name of Donald McCracken, 
 having red hair, large bones, and a Scotch accent 
 very terrible. 
 
 On the advice of friends, Persimmons attempted 
 to recover damages for indignities and bruises re 
 ceived on the premises of the Trust Company, and 
 the popular feeling in the stables was with him. 
 But he got nothing but the promise of more kicks, 
 payable at sight, by Donald McCracken, and the 
 hexecrations of Mister Leek who perceived that is 
 hannuity was vanishing before is very heyes. 
 
 And now no lawyer would make bold to say in 
 his heart whether Persimmons had signed or had 
 not signed, and the war raged furiously, and the 
 Lauderdales, being in possession of the will, swore 
 that they would bring it to probate without delay, 
 and that the Brights ought to be very much pleased 
 at this, as they had been so anxious to get the will 
 probated without delay. But the Brights were 
 less anxious to do so than they had been a few 
 days earlier, and looked about them for means 
 
152 THE RALSTONS. 
 
 of strengthening testimony. Also, the whole story 
 was well ventilated in the newspapers. 
 
 Then came a man privately to Hamilton Bright 
 and said that he was John Simons, who spelled his 
 name in the right way, and had been the witness of 
 the will. He was in difficulties, and was obliged 
 to hide from his creditors ; but if a small sum of 
 money were forthcoming and so forth. Bright 
 looked at him, and he was clean-shaven, and of 
 average height, and wore a brown jacket. Bright 
 hesitated, and then called the other witnesses, who 
 unhesitatingly swore that the man who had signed 
 was Persimmons and not this Simons. And noth 
 ing more was heard of the man in the brown 
 jacket to this day. But another clean-shaven man 
 of average height with another sort of brown 
 jacket appeared the next morning, and many more 
 after him, very much alike. But the departure 
 of them from the office was much more precipitate 
 than that of the first. And this also was in the 
 morning and evening papers, and still the will was 
 unprobated, and lay in Mr. Allen s safe. After 
 that the lawyers on each side began to accuse one 
 another of causing delay, and while they were 
 quarrelling about it the delay continued, and the 
 public jeered, and the actors at Harrigan and 
 Hart s introduced jokes about the Lauderdale will 
 which brought the house down, until Teddy Van 
 De Water, chancing to be in the audience, took 
 
THE EALSTONS. 153 
 
 friendly action, and requested that the name should 
 not be introduced in future. At this the public 
 of the theatre took offence, and called all the Lau- 
 derdales gilt-edged galoots, and by other similar 
 epithets commonly applied to the Four Hundred 
 by a godless population which has not the fear of 
 millions before its eyes, but rather a desire for the 
 same. 
 
 About this time the quality of the cigars smoked 
 by Alexander Lauderdale Senior suddenly improved 
 at a wonderful and miraculous rate, so that in a 
 few days he was brought by successive stages of 
 delight from the Old Virginia Cheroot, at ten cents 
 for a package of five, to the refinement of Havanas, 
 at thirty cents apiece, after which of his own ac 
 cord he returned to what are known as Eden 
 Bouquets from Park and Tilford s. He smoked 
 in silent surprise, not unmixed with an old man s 
 cunning curiosity, and not without much inter 
 nal amusement. Reporters also came often to 
 see him, ostensibly to make enquiries about the 
 vast charities in which he was chiefly interested ; 
 but in reality they came cynically to have a look 
 at him, and to tell the public what probabilities 
 of life remained to him in which to enjoy his half 
 of the Lauderdale fortune. Most of them came 
 to the conclusion that he might live many years 
 longer. 
 
 In the Lauderdale household there was peace 
 
154 THE R ALSTONS. 
 
 during these days. Katharine had returned, and 
 had been received by her father with reticent 
 affection, and nothing more had been said about 
 her offering an apology for her hasty speeches. 
 From time to time the Ralstons were spoken of in 
 connection with the family affairs, and then Alex 
 ander suggested to his wife that they might be 
 asked to dinner. It would, in his favourite phrase, 
 tend to cement the union between the two branches 
 of the family which stood together in the great 
 contention, pitted against the B rights and the 
 Crowdies. 
 
 They came, and their coming was an event. 
 Even the servants took an interest in it. Ralston 
 and Lauderdale shook hands rather spasmodically, 
 and each looked at Katharine s arm a moment 
 later, recalling the words they had exchanged when 
 they had last met, and the blow and the struggle 
 after it, and many other things of a similar nature. 
 The Ralstons were very quiet, but behaved natu 
 rally and made conversation, avoiding the subject 
 of the will as much as possible. After dinner 
 John and Katharine sat in a corner for nearly half 
 an hour, as they used to do long ago in the early 
 days of their love-making, and Alexander Junior 
 seemed well satisfied, and resolutely turned his 
 back on them and talked with Mrs. Ralston. 
 
 John remembered having told his mother, when 
 Katharine was still at the Brights , that the next 
 
THE B ALSTONS. 155 
 
 time Katharine entered her father s house she 
 should go as his wife ; but fate had managed mat 
 ters otherwise. Until the question of the fortune 
 was settled, it would be as well to keep the mar 
 riage a secret. It could only be a question of days 
 now. That was clear enough from Alexander s 
 face, which expressed his certainty of triumph as 
 clearly as his cold features could express anything. 
 His electric smile flashed more frequently than it 
 had done for many years, and his steely eyes glit 
 tered in the light. But he had grown thin of late, 
 for it was hard to wait so long before realizing the 
 miser s dream. 
 
 In the night, when he lay awake, he had a wild 
 idea which haunted him in the dark hours, though 
 it never crossed his brain during the daylight. He 
 thought of realizing a whole million in gold coin, 
 and of revelling in the delight of pouring it from 
 one hand to another. He had a million of his own, 
 in a very realizable shape, but somehow he would 
 not have risked that, so long as he had not a sec 
 ond. Some one might rob him one could never 
 tell. He should like to be alone with the gold in 
 his own room for one hour, and then know that it 
 was safe. He considered whether the gas-light in 
 his dressing-room were strong enough to make the 
 metal glitter. Electric light would be better. 
 
 It was a childish thought, and in the daytime 
 he paid no attention to it, but at night it came 
 
156 THE RALSTOXS. 
 
 upon him like hunger or thirst, drying his lips and 
 driving away sleep. Then, in order to quiet his 
 brain, he had to promise himself that he would 
 really do the thing he longed to do as soon as it 
 lay in his power. But in the morning, when he 
 stood before his shaving-glass, and looked into his 
 own hard eyes, he laughed scornfully. 
 
 So things went on for a few days more. Then 
 Alexander arose and said that there should be no 
 more delay, but that the will should be brought to 
 probate at the next session of the court, which does 
 not sit every day. And then the excitement grew 
 more intense, and the Brights and the Lauderdales 
 avoided one another in the street. Ealston still 
 went regularly to the bank and saw Hamilton 
 Bright every day. But though they were friends 
 still, and there had been no unfriendly word spoken 
 between them, they met as little as possible and 
 merely nodded quickly when a meeting was un 
 avoidable. But Ealston was displeased by the 
 notice he attracted whenever he got up from his 
 seat or sat down again. Occasionally an acquaint 
 ance of one of the numerous young gentlemen in 
 the bank came in, and it was rarely that, after 
 exchanging a few words with his friend, the 
 stranger did not turn and glance at John, where 
 he sat. Ralston did not like it, but he could do 
 nothing against it. 
 
 Then came the day of judgment. Without 
 
THE EALSTONS. 157 
 
 warning the Brights produced a man whom they 
 believed to be the real John Simons, and who 
 swore that he had signed the will in the presence 
 of the testators and in the presence of the other 
 witnesses. 
 
 This was a terrible blow to the Lauderdale side. 
 But the other witnesses had previously sworn to 
 and signed a statement, extracted from them by 
 the Lauderdales, to the effect that Persimmons was 
 the man who had signed with them ; and whether 
 the John Simons now present, who was a genuine 
 John Simons of some kind, were the right one or 
 not, they had no intention of laying themselves 
 open to a possible action for perjury, and stuck to 
 their original testimony, regardless of the fact that 
 the witness now confronted with them, being also 
 clean shaven, of average height, and possibly the 
 possessor of a brown jacket, was a perfectly re 
 spectable citizen of New York. At this the legal 
 advisers of the Brights were thunderstruck, and 
 the court was surprised. But with the fear of 
 prosecution by the Lauderdales before their eyes, 
 the other two would not budge, though the real 
 John Simons, whether he had signed or not, imme 
 diately threatened to prosecute them for perjury 
 on his own account. But he did not look impos 
 ing enough, and they preferred that risk to the 
 other. 
 
 In the face of such conflicting evidence the court 
 
158 THE EALSTONS. 
 
 ruled that, the witnesses not agreeing, the will 
 could not be admitted to probate, and there was 
 clearly nothing to be done but to give judgment 
 that the deceased had died intestate, and that ad 
 ministrators must dispose of the property between 
 the next of kin, Alexander Lauderdale Senior, and 
 Katharine Lauderdale, widow of the late Admiral 
 Ralston of the United States Navy. 
 
 When Alexander Junior heard the judgment he 
 laughed hysterically, and showed his brilliant teeth. 
 Hamilton Bright said nothing, but he, who generally 
 reddened under emotion, turned white to his neck 
 and under his ears. 
 
 "That s all very well," said Mr. Allen to Mr. 
 Henry Brett, as they walked away together. "But 
 if he didn t happen to destroy the will I made for 
 him, there may be trouble yet. I wonder where 
 it is ! " 
 
 But nobody seemed to know. 
 
CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 IT is not very easy to conceive of the disappoint 
 ment felt by persons to whom a gigantic fortune 
 has been left by a will which is then entirely set 
 aside, so that they receive absolutely nothing. It 
 would be useless to attempt an analysis of the 
 state of mind which prevailed in the households of 
 the Brights and the Crowdies after judgment had 
 been given against them in the court of probate. 
 The blow was sudden and stunning. Though they 
 were all very well-to-do, even rich, in the ordinary 
 acceptation of that word, their joint imagination had 
 of late so completely outrun their present circum 
 stances, that they felt impoverished when the hope 
 of millions was removed beyond their reach. They 
 could not realize that the will was absolutely value 
 less, and they still felt sure that something might 
 be done. 
 
 Unfortunately for them the matter had been 
 finally settled. In the presence of witnesses who 
 denied one another s identity, and threatened one 
 another reciprocally with actions for perjury, the 
 court could hardly have done otherwise than it 
 had done. To this day it is still doubtful from 
 159 
 
160 THE RALSTONS. 
 
 a legal point of view which of the John Si- 
 monses signed as a witness, though everything 
 goes to show that the last one produced was the 
 right one, in spite of the fact that the others 
 denied having known him. Persimmons had, from 
 the first, denied having had anything to do with 
 the matter, but he had subsequently sworn to all 
 manner of statements. The confusion was com 
 plete. There was no doubt that the respectable 
 John Simons who appeared ] ast was a tenant of 
 one of the Lauderdale houses in MacDougal Street, 
 and he said that he had found himself at Robert 
 Lauderdale s house, having gone to complain of 
 a leak in his roof to old Robert himself, after 
 having vainly laid his grievance before the agent 
 a number of times. The story was probably true, 
 but the other witnesses remained firm in their 
 assertion that he was not the man. They were, 
 perhaps, telling the truth to the best of their abil 
 ity. Neither Persimmons nor John Simons were 
 men who had anything unusual about them to im 
 press itself upon their memory. They themselves, 
 somewhat awed by the presence of the great mil 
 lionaire, had looked at him much more than at 
 their insignificant fellow-witness. The room had 
 not been light, for the signing had taken place 
 late in the afternoon, as all agreed in stating, and 
 they had not remained in one another s presence 
 more than three minutes altogether. Simons, said 
 
THE EALSTONS. 161 
 
 the other two, had stayed behind, whereas they 
 had left the room immediately. It was not sur 
 prising that their memory of the man s face should 
 be indistinct. 
 
 The Brights, however, threw the whole blame 
 upon the Lauderdales and their legal advisers. 
 The latter had not the right, they said, to make 
 the two witnesses sign an affidavit beforehand to 
 the effect that they recognized the third. The 
 Lauderdales answered that there was no law to 
 hinder them from requesting any individual with 
 whom they had to do, to swear to any statement 
 he made. The two need not have signed unless 
 they pleased. There had been no pressure brought 
 to bear upon them. They had said that they 
 recognized Persimmons. The Lauderdale lawyers 
 wished to make sure that they did, so as to avoid 
 any subsequent trouble, because Persimmons de 
 nied that he was the man, and might disappear 
 before the hearing. What was more natural than 
 that, out of pure caution, they should have wished 
 to file an affidavit of the man s identity ? The 
 Brights, amongst themselves, were obliged to admit 
 that they did not really know who had signed, and 
 that the only person who could have settled the 
 dispute was dead, so that they could not blame the 
 court for its decision. 
 
 After the judgment John Simons quarrelled with 
 the other two, who turned upon him in defence of 
 
 VOL. II. 11 
 
162 THE RALSTONS. 
 
 their own reputations. They swore out warrants 
 against one another which were not served, and 
 they pottered amongst shysters and legal small 
 fry, until they had spent most of their money, and 
 disappeared from the horizon with their quarrel. 
 The private opinion of the judge who had settled 
 the question was that there had been an unfor 
 tunate mistake, and that all three had originally 
 intended to be perfectly honest. But he also 
 thought it far more just that the fortune should 
 go to the next of kin, in spite of Robert Lauder- 
 dale s wishes. 
 
 Alexander Lauderdale did his best to conceal 
 his delight in his triumph. It had been a far more 
 easy victory than he had expected, and it was prac 
 tically complete. The only drawback was that the 
 fortune had come into his old father s hands instead 
 of into his own, but he anticipated no difficulty in 
 ruling the old gentleman according to his own judg 
 ment, nor in getting control of the whole estate. 
 He intended to treat it as he had treated his own 
 comparatively small possessions, and he had hopes 
 of seeing it doubled in his lifetime. He could 
 make it double itself in twenty years at the utmost, 
 and he was but fifty years of age, or thereabouts. 
 He should live as long as that, with his iron con 
 stitution and careful habits. 
 
 His father received the news with an old man s 
 chuckle of pleasure, and one heavy hand fell into 
 
THE RALSTONS. 163 
 
 the other with a loud slap of satisfaction. He had 
 but one idea, which was to extend the scope and 
 efficiency of his charitable institutions, and he saw 
 at last that he had boundless power to do so. 
 
 " I always knew I should live to build that other 
 asylum myself ! " he cried, referring to one of his 
 favourite schemes. " It will only cost a million or 
 so, and another million as a foundation will run it. 
 I ll send for the architects at once." 
 
 Alexander Junior smiled, for he believed that 
 he was quite able to prevent any such extravagance 
 by getting himself appointed his father s guardian, 
 on the ground that the old gentleman would squan 
 der everything in senseless charities. But in the 
 meanwhile it would take some time to make the 
 division of the property, which was almost wholly 
 in real estate, as has been seen, and could not be 
 so readily apportioned as though it had been held 
 in bond and mortgage. Of course the administra 
 tors would allow either of the heirs to draw a large 
 amount on credit before the settling, if they desired 
 to do so. 
 
 Alexander Senior said that he meant to live in 
 Clinton Place for the rest of his life, and his son 
 considered this a very wise decision. The people 
 who lived opposite began to watch the old gentle 
 man, who had inherited over forty millions, when he 
 went out on foot in his shabby coat for his airing 
 on fine days. They wondered why he did not buy 
 
164 THE B ALSTONS. 
 
 a new one, as they did, when their overcoats were 
 worn out. 
 
 Mrs. Lauderdale was indignant at the idea of 
 continuing to inhabit the old house. In her mind 
 it was associated with a quarter of a century of 
 penurious economy, and she longed at last for the 
 luxury she enjoyed so thoroughly in the houses of 
 others. 
 
 "It s perfectly absurd," she said to Katharine, 
 indignantly. " Fve stood it all these years because 
 I had to but I won t stand it any longer. If ever 
 I paint another miniature ! But I d made up my 
 mind that I wouldn t do that, even if we didn t 
 get all the money." 
 
 " I should think so ! " laughed Katharine. " Put 
 away your paints and your brushes, mother, and 
 say that you ll never use them any more. You ll 
 be at it again as hard as ever in a week, because 
 you really like it, you know ! " 
 
 " I suppose so." And Mrs. Lauderdale laughed, 
 too. " Let s go out, child. Let s take a long drive 
 somewhere. I suppose we can drive as much 
 as we like now." 
 
 " From morning till night," answered Katharine ; 
 " why don t we use the horses and carriages ? 
 They re all there, you know, and all the grooms 
 and coachmen and everything, just as though 
 nothing had happened." 
 
 " Do you think we could just go there and order 
 
THE It ALSTONS. 165 
 
 a carriage ? " asked Mrs. Lauderdale, rather doubt 
 fully. 
 
 " Why, of course ! Whose are they all, if they re 
 not ours and the Ralstons ? We have a perfect 
 right-" 
 
 " Yes but if we were to meet people don t 
 you know ?" 
 
 " Well they re our carriages, not theirs." 
 Katharine laughed again. " The only question 
 is whether they ll belong to the Ralstons or to 
 us. I suppose they ll all be sold and we shall 
 buy new ones." 
 
 " I don t see why," answered Mrs. Lauderdale. 
 "They re perfectly good carriages, and there are 
 some splendid horses 
 
 Twenty-five years of rigid economy were not to 
 be forgotten in a day, and Alexander Junior saw 
 with satisfaction that his wife showed no signs of 
 developing any very reprehensible extravagance. 
 But she enjoyed that first drive, lying back in the 
 luxurious carriage with her daughter by her side, 
 and feeling that it all belonged to her, or, at least, 
 that she was privileged to consider that it did, as 
 much as though she had inherited the fortune 
 herself. 
 
 Aunt Maggie Bright saw the two in the Park 
 and bent her head rather stiffly. She recognized 
 the carriage and spoke of the meeting to her son 
 that evening. 
 
1(30 THE R ALSTONS. 
 
 " They ve a right to do as they please," answered 
 Hamilton gravely. " As for the carriages and all 
 the personal belongings, they d have had them any 
 way. I should like to know where that other will 
 is, though. If he didn t destroy it, it s good now." 
 
 "If it s in existence, it will turn up amongst 
 the papers one of these days." 
 
 " Unless Alexander gets at them then it 
 won t," said Bright, savagely. 
 
 "Perhaps that isn t quite just, Ham. I don t 
 think Alexander s capable of destroying such a 
 
 thing." 
 
 " Oh isn t he ! You don t know him, mother. 
 If you think anything would stand in the way of 
 his defending his millions, you re very much mis 
 taken. There s been something very queer about 
 the whole affair. That affidavit wasn t straight." 
 
 They argued the case and talked over it, as they 
 had done many times already, without coining to 
 any conclusion, except that they should have had 
 the money and Alexander should not. They 
 always considered that he had got the property, 
 though it was really his father s. But they both 
 knew how futile discussion was, and they aban 
 doned it at last, as they always did, with a hopeless 
 conviction that the truth could never be known. 
 
 Katharine on her side was much disturbed by 
 what she knew of the previous will, and she took 
 counsel with John Ralston, as to how she should 
 
THE RALSTONS. 167 
 
 act. There was not much to be done, since the 
 will itself had not been found up to the present 
 date, though the administrators had been already 
 some time engaged in examining the papers. Of 
 these there was no end, though the agent of the 
 estate was acquainted with most of them. They 
 consisted chiefly of title deeds and leases. 
 
 By this time Alexander had practically admitted 
 that Katharine was engaged to be married to 
 lialston, but like every one else concerned, he 
 thought it better to wait until the summer, before 
 announcing the fact. To do so now would look as 
 though the family had only waited for Kobert 
 Lauderdale s death. Moreover, though it is so 
 little the custom to wear mourning for an}^ but the 
 very nearest nowadays, the inheritance of wealth 
 requires a corresponding show of grief on the part 
 of the heirs* There is a sort of tacit understand 
 ing about that. When an uncle leaves a fortune, 
 the particular nephew who gets it must acknowl 
 edge the fact and propitiate the shade of the dear 
 departed with a decently broad hatband. The 
 position of the B rights caused some amusement. 
 They had worn something approaching to mourn 
 ing after old Lauderdale s death, but they did not 
 think it necessary to continue to do so after the 
 court had set aside the will. The Lauderdales 
 and the Ralst6ns wore half mourning. 
 
 As has been said, Katharine s engagement was 
 
168 THE B ALSTONS. 
 
 accepted as a fact in the family, and she had no 
 difficulty in seeing Ralston as often as she pleased, 
 when he was free from his work. He had told 
 Mr. Beinan that he should prefer to stay in the 
 bank for a time and learn something about busi 
 ness, and Beinan had been delighted, especially 
 when he saw that John came as regularly as ever. 
 
CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 IN the late spring John and Katharine often 
 walked together of an afternoon, between half 
 past five and sunset. 
 
 It was during one of these walks that Katharine 
 consulted him seriously. They went about together 
 in unfrequented places, as a rule, not caring to 
 meet acquaintances at every turn. Neither of 
 them had any social duties to perform, and they 
 were as free to do as they pleased as though they 
 had not represented the rising generation of Lau- 
 derdales. 
 
 The spring had fairly come at last. It had 
 rained, and the pavement dried in white patches, 
 the willow trees in the square were a blur of green, 
 and the Virginia creeper on the houses here and 
 there was all rough with little stubby brown buds. 
 It had come with a rush. The hyacinths were 
 sticking their green curved beaks up through the 
 park beds, and the little cock-sparrows were scrap 
 ing their wings along the ground. 
 
 There was a bright youthfulness in everything, 
 in the air, in the sky, in the old houses, in the 
 faces of the people in the streets. The Italians 
 169 
 
170 THE RALSTOXS. 
 
 with their fruit carts sunned themselves, and 
 turned up their dark rough faces to the warmth. 
 The lame boy who lived in the house at the corner 
 of Clinton Place was out on the pavement, with a 
 single roller skate on his better foot, pushing him 
 self along with his crutch, and laughing all to 
 himself, pale but happy. The old woman in grey, 
 who hangs about that region and begs, had at last 
 taken the dilapidated woollen shawl from her head, 
 and had replaced it by a very, very poor apology 
 for a hat, with a crumpled paper cherry and a green 
 leaf in it, and only one string. And the other 
 woman, who wants her car-fare to Harlem, seemed 
 more anxious to get there than ever. Moreover the 
 organ-grinders expressed great joy, and the chil 
 dren danced together to the cheerful discords, in 
 Washington Square, under the blur of the green 
 willows slim American children, who talked 
 through their noses, and funny little French chil 
 dren with ribbons in their hair, from South Fifth 
 Avenue, and bright-eyed darkey children with one 
 baby amongst them. And they took turns in hold 
 ing it while the others danced. 
 
 Now also the patriotic Italians took occasion to 
 bury a dead comrade or two, and a whole platoon 
 of them, who had been riflemen in their own army 
 at home, turned out in their smart, theatrical uni 
 forms of green and red, with plumes of gleaming 
 cock s feathers lying over one side of their flat 
 
THE R ALSTONS. 171 
 
 waterproof hats. And they had a band of their 
 own which played a funeral march, as their little 
 legs moved with doll-like slowness to the solemn 
 measure. 
 
 But Katharine and John Ralston followed less 
 frequented paths, crossing Broadway from Clinton 
 Place east, and striking past Astor Place and 
 Lafayette Place where the Crowdies lived 
 by Stuyvesant Street eastwards to Avenue A and 
 Tompkins Square. And there, too, the spring was 
 busy, blurring everything with green. Men were 
 getting the benches out of the kiosk on the north 
 sidej where they are stacked away all winter, and 
 otheio were repairing the band stand with its 
 shabby white dome, and everywhere there were 
 children, rising as it were from the earth to meet 
 the soft air rising as the sparkling little air 
 bubbles rise in champagne, to be free at last 
 hundreds of children, perhaps a thousand, in the 
 vast area which many a New Yorker has not seen 
 twice in his life, out at play in the light of the 
 westering sun. They stared innocently as Katha 
 rine and Ralston passed through their midst, and 
 held their breath a moment at the sight of a real 
 lady and gentleman. All the little girls over ten 
 years old looked at Katharine s clothes and ap 
 proved of them, and all the boys looked at John 
 Ralston s face to see whether he would be the 
 right sort of young person to whom to address an 
 ironical remark, but decided that he was not. 
 
172 THE RALSTONS. 
 
 " There goes a son of a gamboleer," observed one 
 small chap on roller skates, as he looked after 
 John. " He s fly." 
 
 " You bet ! And his girl, she knows it," replied 
 his companion, sharing in his admiration. 
 
 "Your dad s new coat s that shape," said the 
 first. " But taint made that way. Fifth Av nue, 
 that is ! Bet ? " 
 
 " Lemme be ! " retorted the other. " Botherin 
 me bout dad s coat. Mine s better u yours, any 
 how." 
 
 " Take a reef in your lip, Johnny, or I ll sit 
 on it ! " 
 
 Thereupon they fought without the slightest 
 hesitation. But Katharine and John Ralston 
 went on, and crossed the great square and left 
 it by the southeast corner, from which a quiet 
 street leads across the remaining lettered avenues 
 to an enormous timber yard at the water s edge, 
 a bad neighbourhood at night, and the haunt of 
 the class generically termed dock rats, a place of 
 murder and sudden death by no means unfre- 
 quently, but by day as quiet and safe as any one 
 could wish. 
 
 "I don t know what to do, Jack," Katharine said, 
 as they walked along. "The idea of that other 
 will haunts me, and I lie awake thinking of it at 
 night." 
 
 "Don t do that," laughed Kalston. "It isn t 
 
THE RALSTONS. 173 
 
 worth while. Besides, it wouldn t make so much 
 difference if it were found." 
 
 "The Brights would get their share as much 
 as they ought to expect instead of getting 
 nothing. That s the principal thing. But papa 
 wouldn t like it at all. As things are now, he ll 
 probably have all grandpapa s share when grand 
 papa dies. I suppose he ll have the management 
 of it as it is. But if the old will were found, 
 and were legal, you know why then papa never 
 could possibly have anything but the income of 
 half my share. He wouldn t like that." 
 
 "What in the world does he want with so 
 much ? " asked Ralston, impatiently. " I do think 
 you Lauderdales are the strangest people ! If the 
 will " 
 
 " Don t say ( you Lauderdales to me like that, 
 Jack ! " interrupted Katharine, with a little laugh. 
 "You re every bit as much one as I am, you 
 know " 
 
 " Well yes. I didn t want to say disagreeable 
 things about your father " 
 
 " So you jumbled us all up together ! That s 
 logical, at all events. Well don t ! " she laughed 
 again. 
 
 "No, I won t. So I ll say that your father is 
 the strangest person I ever heard of. As it is 
 now, he s practically got half the fortune. If 
 the old will turned up and were proved, he 
 
1T4 THE RALSTONS. 
 
 and your mother would get two-thirds of the 
 income " 
 
 "No they wouldn t, Jack. The two-thirds would 
 be divided equally between them and Charlotte 
 and me." 
 
 " Oh I see ! Then they d only get one-third 
 between them. Well what difference does it 
 make, after all ? There s such a lot of money, 
 anyhow " 
 
 "You don t understand papa, Jack. I m not 
 sure that I do quite. But I think wliat he 
 wants is not the income, for he ll never spend it. 
 I believe if he had the whole eighty-two millions 
 locked up in the Safe Deposit, he d be quite happy, 
 and would prefer to go on living in Clinton Place 
 on ten or eleven thousand a year or whatever 
 it costs just as he s always lived. It s the 
 money he wants, I think, not the income of it. 
 That s the reason why I m sure he wouldn t like 
 the other will. He d fight it just as he fought 
 this one. For my part I never could understand 
 what made uncle Robert change his mind at the 
 last minute, just after he d spoken to me." 
 
 " He did, anyhow. That s the main point." 
 
 "Yes. You know he was very much troubled 
 in his mind about the money. I believe he s been 
 thinking for years how to divide it fairly. I could 
 see, when he spoke to me, that he wasn t satisfied 
 with what he d done. It was worrying him still. 
 
THE R ALSTONS. 175 
 
 But now about this other will ought I to say 
 anything? I mean, is it my duty to tell papa 
 what was in it ? " 
 
 " No, indeed ! How could it be your duty ? Every 
 body knows that uncle Kobert had made a previous 
 will. Mr. Allen drew it up, though of course 
 he s bound to say nothing about what was in it. 
 It is always taken for granted that when a man 
 makes a new will he burns his old one. That s 
 probably what uncle Kobert did, like a sensible 
 man. What s the use of telling anybody about 
 it ? Besides frankly I wouldn t trust your 
 father, if he knew what was in it. He d go out 
 of his mind and do something foolish." 
 
 " What, for instance ? What could he do ? " 
 
 " Well it might fall into his hands by acci 
 dent. One never knows. And he might say 
 nothing about it. Of course, I don t mean to 
 say exactly that he would " 
 
 "No, dear please don t say it. He s my 
 father, you know and I don t think you under 
 stand him as I do. He never would do anything 
 like that never! I don t think it s quite fair 
 even to suggest such a thing." 
 
 "I m sorry I spoke," answered Ralston, in a 
 contrite voice, for he saw that she was really hurt. 
 " You know what I mean " 
 
 " Yes " she replied in a doubtful tone. " But 
 you don t understand him, quite. It s the view 
 
176 THE RALSTONS. 
 
 of right and wrong, it isn t the real right and 
 wrong. He s violent, and he s been cruelly unkind 
 to me, and well he loves money. I can t deny 
 it." 
 
 " Hardly ! " exclaimed Ralston, feeling that she 
 was justifying him with every word. 
 
 " No. It s much too clear. Nobody could deny 
 it. But you re very much mistaken if you think 
 that papa would do anything which he knew to 
 be dishonest. With all his faults he s got that 
 good point. He s honest in the letter, and I 
 think he means to be in the spirit." 
 
 " How awfully charitable women are ! " Ralston 
 laughed rather scornfully. 
 
 " No," answered Katharine. " I don t go in for 
 being charitable. I m not telling you that I love 
 him, nor that I can ever forgive some of the things 
 he s said and done. I suppose I ought to. But 
 I m just as human as other people. I can t turn 
 the other cheek, and that sort of thing, you know. 
 I never mean to give him another chance of hurt 
 ing me, if I can help it, because I don t know 
 what he might do. We re very different, he and 
 I, though we re so much alike in some ways. But 
 all the same, I say that papa s not a bad man, 
 and I won t let any one else say it not even 
 you. He s very limited. He s fond of money. 
 He s got a cruel streak I believe it s his New 
 England blood, for none of the other Lauderdales 
 have it " 
 
THE RALSTONS. 177 
 
 " Except Hester Crowdie," observed Ealston. 
 "I m sure she s cruel." 
 
 "Hester!" exclaimed Katharine, in surprise. 
 " How absurd ! She s the kindest woman living." 
 
 " I may be mistaken I judge from her face, 
 that s all, and from her eyes when she sees 
 Crowdie talking to any other woman." 
 
 " Oh she s infatuated about him," laughed 
 Katharine. " She s mad on that point, but as 
 they love each other so tremendously, I think 
 it s rather nice of them both don t you?" 
 
 "Oh yes," answered Ralston, indifferently. 
 "Go on with what you were saying. You were 
 talking about your father." 
 
 " Yes. He has a cruel streak. In a small way, 
 Charlotte has it, too. She can say the most horrid 
 things sometimes, that give pain, and she seems 
 to enjoy it. But you re wrong about Hester 
 she s kind-hearted. As for papa it s just that. 
 His religion and his love of money are always 
 fighting in him. His religion gets the better of 
 it whenever he s tempted to do anything that s 
 plainly wrong. But his love of money drives 
 him up to the very edge of what s fair. Now, for 
 instance, he s always told us that he was poor, 
 and yet uncle Robert knew that he had a million 
 put away somewhere. That s fifty thousand a 
 year, isn t it ? Yes, I ve heard him say so. 
 Yet, I m quite sure that he really considered that 
 
 VOL. II. 12 
 
178 THE EALSTONS. 
 
 very little, much too little to have divided it 
 between us girls. So he s made us live on a 
 quarter of it all our lives. He felt poor, and he 
 said he was. Those things are relative, Jack. 
 Uncle Robert would have felt as poor as a church 
 mouse with only a million to dispose of. As papa 
 looked at it, it was true, though it didn t seem 
 so to us. Do you see what I mean ? " 
 
 "Dear if you wish to defend your father, 
 defend him as much as you please. But let s 
 differ in our opinion of some of his peculiarities. 
 It s better to agree about differing, you know. 
 We ve both got the most awful tempers, you and 
 I, and unless we label the disagreeable things, we 
 shall quarrel over them. That s one of them 
 your father. Put him away and lock up the idea. 
 It s safer." 
 
 " But you and I wouldn t really quarrel even 
 about him, Jack," said Katharine, with sudden 
 earnestness. 
 
 " Well I don t know. Not for long, of course." 
 
 " Not for one minute," said Katharine, in a tone 
 of absolute certainty. " When have we quarrelled, 
 Jack ? Except last winter, over that wretched 
 misunderstanding and that was all my fault. 
 You don t think I m angry about what you said of 
 papa, do you? I m not, and I m sorry if you 
 thought I was. But how could two people love 
 each other as we do, and quarrel? You didn t 
 
THE It ALSTONS. 179 
 
 mean what you said, dear, or you don t understand 
 by quarrelling what I understand by it. Perhaps 
 that s it. I ve grown up in an atmosphere of per 
 petual lighting, and I hate it. You ve not. You 
 don t understand, as I said. You ve never quar 
 relled with your mother, have you ? " 
 
 " Never but once at the same time, you know, 
 when they were all against me. It didn t last long." 
 
 "Exactly. You ve had your fights with men, 1 
 suppose, and all that. It s quite different. But 
 I ve lived all my life in the most especial garden 
 of our family tempers. Four of us grandpapa, 
 papa, Charlotte, and I and my mother as the 
 only peacemaker, with her Kentucky blood ! But 
 she s always done her best, and we love each other 
 dearly, she and I, though we ve been tearing each 
 other s hair out for the last four months until 
 the other day. Now we re friends again, Jack ; 
 she s been splendid, you know, or rather, you don t 
 half know ! " 
 
 " And what happened the other day, to save your 
 remaining locks ? " enquired Ralston, with a smile. 
 
 " Oh, I can t tell you. Perhaps she will, some 
 day. But as I was saying, you can t imagine what 
 my life at home has been all these years. I m not 
 sure whether it hasn t been worse since Charlotte 
 was married. You know what we are we re so 
 awfully polite when we fight. Ham Bright s the 
 only one who gets rough when he s excited. That s 
 
180 THE R ALSTONS. 
 
 California and Nevada, I suppose. But we ! we 
 quarrel with all solemnity. A family of under 
 takers couldn t do it more gravely. It always 
 seems to me that papa ought to have a band on his 
 hat and black gloves when he begins. Yes, it s 
 funny to talk about. But it s not pleasant to live 
 in the middle of it. We re all used to being on 
 the defensive. Charlotte didn t mind what she 
 said to papa, but she used to pick her words and 
 arrange her phrases like knives all stuck up in 
 a neat row for him to fall upon. And he generally 
 fell, and hurt himself badly poor papa ! He s 
 not very clever, though he s so precise about what 
 he knows. And every now and then mother would 
 strike out with one of her dashing southern sen 
 timents, and then I d say something, and when 
 nobody thought that grandpapa had heard a word 
 of the conversation, he d suddenly make a remark 
 a regular Lauderdale remark that set everybody 
 by the ears again. But it s only since you and 
 papa had that awful scene you know, when you 
 first wanted to marry me it s only since then 
 that he s got into the habit of raising his voice and 
 being angry, and She stopped short. 
 
 " And generally behaving like a fiend incarnate/ 
 suggested Ralston, by way of ending the sentence. 
 
 " Oh, well let s leave them alone, dear," an 
 swered Katharine. " It s all going to be so differ 
 ent now. I only wanted to explain to you what I 
 
THE RALSTONS. 181 
 
 meant by quarrelling, that s all. I want to forget 
 all about it, and live with you forever and ever, 
 and ever, and be perfectly peaceful and happy 
 as we shall be. Look at the sunset. That s much 
 better than talking about those horrid old times, 
 isn t it?" 
 
 They stood by the edge of the river, on the road 
 that runs along from pier to pier. Katharine laid 
 her hand upon Kalston s arm, and felt how it drew 
 her gently close to him, and glancing at his face 
 she loved it better than ever in the red evening 
 light. 
 
 The sun was going down between two clouds, 
 the one above him, the other below, grey and 
 golden, behind Brooklyn bridge, and behind the 
 close-crossing pencil masts and needle yards of 
 many vessels. From the river rose the white 
 plumes of twenty little puffing tugs and ferry-boats 
 far down in the distance. Between the sun s great 
 flattened disk and the lovers eyes passed a great 
 three-masted schooner, her vast main and mizzen 
 set, her foresail and jib hauled down, being towed 
 outward. It was very still, for the dock hands 
 had gone home. 
 
 " I love you, dear," said Katharine, softly. 
 
 But Ralston answered nothing. Only his right 
 hand drew her left more closely to his side. 
 
CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 KATHARINE had been intimate with Hester 
 Crowdie from the time when they had both been 
 children, though Hester was several years older 
 than she. Possibly the friendship had been one 
 of Katharine s mistakes. For his part, Kalston, 
 as has been seen, did not place great confidence 
 in the married woman s nature, and if he did not 
 tell Katharine exactly what he thought, it was not 
 from lack of conviction but because he felt that the 
 conviction itself was intuitive rather than logical. 
 Men, as well as women, have intuitions which they 
 cannot explain, but they are much more inclined to 
 conceal them than women are, because they have 
 been taught not to trust to them. They judge 
 others, and especially they judge women, from 
 small facts which they are often ashamed of seem 
 ing to value so highly. At least, when they analyze 
 their feelings about any given woman, it often hap 
 pens that their reasoning leads up to some detail 
 which, standing alone, must and does appear al 
 together insignificant. It is not easy to decide 
 whether such very small causes among the reali 
 ties actually produce the whole consequence which 
 182 
 
THE E ALSTONS. 183 
 
 affects the mind, or whether man s view of woman 
 and woman s view of man, as distinguished from 
 the judgments each forms upon his and her own 
 sex, is not dependent upon a very subtle sense of 
 truth, acting by paths shorter than logical deduction. 
 
 In illustration and as an example it may be 
 noticed that the eyes of the majority of persons 
 convey the consciousness of numbers precisely, up 
 to a certain point, without any operation of count 
 ing. Most people can say at a glance, of any small 
 group of objects, that there are two, three, four, or 
 even seven. With almost all individuals, counting, 
 and counting from the beginning, becomes necessary 
 when there are eight or more objects together. For 
 though the eye embraces seven, as seven, it cannot 
 embrace seven out of eight and count one more to 
 make up the number. If there is any counting it 
 must be done from the very beginning. 
 
 Similarly, in reading rapidly, there are many who 
 do not read every word. Their eyes and intelli 
 gence seize upon and comprehend blocks of words 
 and even of lines, by a series of spasmodic leaps, 
 as it were, after each one of which there is a pause 
 of very short and hardly perceptible duration. 
 Those who have been obliged to read very quickly, 
 such as readers of manuscripts, and especially pro 
 fessional critics of second-class literature, are per 
 fectly well aware of this faculty. Such men often 
 read through and judge several volumes in a day, a 
 
184 THE E ALSTONS. 
 
 fact which would not be possible if they had to read 
 each word of every sentence. It is not well done, 
 as Dr. Johnson would have said, but we are sur 
 prised to see it done at all. The result, in the 
 modern phrase, is not judgment, but tasting. But 
 it is a result, all the same. By force of a habit 
 which cannot by any means be acquired by every 
 one, words and even blocks of words to a great 
 number have become to such a reader as symbols, 
 which convey to his mind an idea all at once. 
 There is no doubt but that by easy stages real 
 symbols could, in our ordinary books, take the 
 place of long sentences, and convey meaning with 
 out words at all. All forms of religion have made 
 use of such symbols, and there is no reason why 
 they could not be used in printing, though there 
 may be excellent reasons why they should not be 
 adopted. But in reading, as in counting, when the 
 meaning of a whole sentence is not understood at a 
 glance, it becomes necessary to read it from the 
 beginning, word by word, or by shorter blocks of 
 words, just as it is necessary to spell out a single 
 word, such as a name, if it is not familiar at first 
 sight, and is not made up of familiar syllables. 
 
 And in this way, perhaps, the mind of one indi 
 vidual judges the whole personality of another, 
 without going through any form of analysis or 
 any enumeration of qualities and defects. The 
 instinctive attraction of opposite sexes for one 
 
THE E ALSTONS. 185 
 
 another sharpens the faculties of all living crea 
 tures, and hence it may possibly be, that men gen 
 erally understand women better than men, and the 
 converse, that women are better judges of men 
 than they are of other women. It is often true 
 that the combined judgment passed by a man and 
 woman in consultation upon any individual is 
 vague and worthless, though in rare cases where a 
 profound and wide-reaching sympathy really exists, 
 such joint judgment is the best in the world. 
 
 This may be a mere theory, or it may be the 
 truth, but at all events it seems simpler to believe 
 that what we call intuition is founded upon some 
 such appreciation of each individual as a symbol 
 representing a set of thoughts, than to suppose that 
 it is a sort of sixth sense, sometimes amounting to 
 second sight. Every one may judge of that out 
 of his own experience. 
 
 Ralston, who was familiar enough with the char 
 acter of his family in all its branches, thought that 
 he saw in Hester Crowdie a sort of modification of 
 the same love of possession which made a miser of 
 Alexander Junior, and which, if opposed, would be 
 as ruthless and as dangerous. He might have been 
 willing to admit that he had a share of the same 
 peculiarity, quality, or defect, himself. The tenac 
 ity of his love for Katharine proved that he had it. 
 But as he disliked Crowdie so sincerely, Hester s 
 passion for her husband seemed abnormal in his 
 
186 THE RALSTONS. 
 
 eyes. He fancied that if it were crossed or thwarted 
 she would be capable of going to any extremity for 
 its sake. Her friendship for Katharine, in his 
 opinion, might be turned to hatred at a moment s 
 notice. 
 
 The friendship of a passionate woman who seeks 
 an outlet for the confidences of her overflowing 
 nature, rather than the companionship and mutual 
 respect which friendship means, if it means any 
 thing, is always selfish and generally dangerous. 
 It has no elements of stability in it. When she 
 lias no more confidences to make she is silent, not 
 companionable. When she has exhausted sympa 
 thy by the often repeated tale of her own minor 
 experiences or of her woes, real or imaginary, and 
 when the response of the worn-out listener grows 
 more dull or slow, she believes that she has ex 
 hausted also her friend s heart, that it is shallow 
 and arid, and she turns away in disgust and disap 
 pointment, seeking a kindred soul. And that is 
 the end of many friendships between women. As 
 often as not, they are founded upon the irresistible 
 desire to make confidences, experienced by one or 
 both of the fancied friends, and they come to an 
 end when confidence no longer elicits sympathy. 
 There is neither the simple delight in companion 
 ship which requires no emotion, nor the active 
 intellectual principle on both sides which finds 
 pleasure in the free trade of thought without sub- 
 
THE B ALSTONS. 187 
 
 jection to the exigent tariff which exacts the duty 
 of pity or admiration and unhesitatingly excludes 
 those who have neither to pay, from intellectual 
 commerce. 
 
 The less impulsive, the less passionate woman of 
 the two, she who receives all this outpouring of 
 the shallow but easily agitated soul, is the one who 
 is imposed upon. Until she has had experience, 
 she believes in sufferings and joys commensurate 
 with the words which express both, and even 
 greater. Her pity is really excited; her admira 
 tion is genuine; she sheds tears sympathetic, and 
 glows with pride vicarious. Her slow nature is 
 roused, and its activity continues after the truth 
 begins to dawn upon her. Then, all at once, she 
 finds out that truth, and suffers the rude shock 
 which a less stable being would scarcely feel. She 
 is the one who suffers. The other merely wonders 
 why her confidences no longer interest her friend, 
 and lets them boil over in a new direction. Not 
 knowing what real friendship means, she who loses 
 it loses nothing. What she misses is the pity and 
 also the admiration which helped her to pity and 
 admire herself, and she can get both elsewhere. 
 But the stronger, more silent woman, broods over 
 her disenchantment and loses her belief in human 
 nature, which is the key to human happiness, as 
 faith in God is the key to heaven. She will not 
 easily be drawn into such friendship again, and is 
 quick to scoff at it in others. 
 
188 THE RALSTONS. 
 
 For the disenchantment of broken friendship is 
 less violent but more deep-reaching than the disen 
 chantment of broken love-faith. Love is for the 
 one, friendship is, or may be, for the many. There 
 is no natural reason why any man or woman whom 
 we meet, should never become our friend. To lose 
 faith in human nature may sometimes render love 
 impossible. But though one woman have betrayed 
 us, and though we say in our heart that men and 
 women are faithless in love, yet we have not there 
 fore said that all humanity is faithless in all that 
 which makes up friendship. 
 
 Friendship is more composite than love, and 
 becomes more and more so with advancing years, 
 as the whole of life, which made such a hugely 
 noble impression upon our young sight, is dis 
 sected, bit by bit, before the weary eyes that have 
 seen it too long, and before the tribunal of a heart 
 that has known bitterness. Friendship, like char 
 ity, covers a multitude of sins. The rending of it 
 shows them as they are, and they are not beautiful. 
 
 Katharine had of late gone through events which 
 had tended to destroy the whole-heartedness of 
 her view of the world and its people. Within the 
 past six months her character had developed, if it 
 had not changed, and if she was more in earnest 
 about her realities, she was harder in judging her 
 imaginings and in testing anything in the nature 
 of an ideal which presented itself to her moral 
 
THE RALSTONS. 189 
 
 vision. She would have made a firmer friend now, 
 than formerly, but her friendship was also much 
 harder to obtain. 
 
 She was, doubtless, quite truthful to herself in 
 what she thought of her own mother, for instance. 
 They were altogether reconciled for the present, 
 and outwardly their intercourse was what it had 
 been before Mrs. Lauderdale s unreasoning envy 
 had almost brought about a permanent estrange 
 ment. But the fact remained that the estrange 
 ment had come, though it had also gone again, and 
 Katharine felt that it might possibly some day 
 return. The childlike faith, the belief that her 
 mother could do nothing wrong, which is one of 
 childhood s happiest tenets, was destroyed forever. 
 Her mother, henceforth, was as other women were 
 in her eyes, nearer to her, by the natural bonds 
 that bound the two together and by the necessary 
 intercourse of daily life, but not in heart nor in real 
 sympathy. Katharine asked herself coldly what 
 an affection could be worth which could hate its 
 object out of pure vanity ; and the answer was 
 that it could not be worth much. But she never 
 underrated its true value in the newly discovered 
 proof of its fallibility. 
 
 Evidently, she was going far too far, perhaps, 
 for justice and certainly too far for happiness. 
 And she applied her conclusion not only to her 
 own mother, but to all handsome mothers who had 
 
190 THE R ALSTONS. 
 
 pretty daughters. The first breath of envy would 
 poison any mother s love she thought, and the 
 memories of her own childhood were poisoned 
 retrospectively by the bitterness of the present. 
 She was at that stage of growth when generalities 
 have a force which they have never acquired before 
 and which they soon lose, as life s hailstorm of 
 exceptions batters them out of shape. Out of iso 
 lated facts she made them, and made of them rules, 
 and of rules, laws. 
 
 As for her father s conduct, it had been less 
 unexpected, though it had hurt her even more, 
 because it had crossed her own path so much more 
 rudely and directly. But it had helped to destroy 
 other illusions, and in a way to undermine some 
 thing which was not an illusion at all. She had 
 always believed in his courage and manliness, and 
 both had, in her opinion, broken down. No man 
 could be brave, she felt, who treated any woman 
 as her father had treated her, and the mere thought 
 of the past scenes of violence sent a thrill of pain 
 to her injured arm. No man could be manly who 
 could wish to sacrifice his daughter as she consid 
 ered that he had wished to sacrifice her to sell 
 her, as she said in her anger. 
 
 There was injustice in this. Archibald Wing- 
 field was one of the most desirable and desired 
 young men in New York. Having made up his 
 mind that Katharine should not marry Ralston, 
 
THE RALSTONS. 191 
 
 Alexander Junior could hardly have done better 
 for her than he did in trying to bring about a 
 match with Wingfield. But there Katharine was 
 influenced by her love for John, which made her 
 look upon the mere suggestion of a rival as an 
 insult hardly to be forgiven. 
 
 The deeper and less apparent wound in her 
 belief was the more dangerous, though she did not 
 know it. Alexander Junior had always professed 
 to act upon the most rigid religious principles, and 
 though Katharine did not sympathize with the 
 form of worship in which she had been brought 
 up, and had at one time been strongly inclined to 
 become a Koman Catholic, as her mother was, she 
 had, nevertheless, accorded a certain degree of 
 admiration to her father s unbending and uncom 
 promising consistency. There was no gentleness 
 and no consolation in such religion, she thought, 
 but she could not help admiring its strength and 
 directness. She had said, too, that her father was 
 faithful in his love for her mother, a fact which 
 seemed suddenly to have lost its weight in her 
 eyes at present. But of late he had done many 
 things which Katharine was sure could not be jus 
 tified by any religion whatsoever, and had shown 
 tendencies which, if his religion had ever been 
 real, should, in her view, have been stamped out 
 or wholly destroyed long ago. His avarice was 
 one of them, his cruelty to herself another, his 
 
192 THE KALSTONS. 
 
 attempt to injure John Ealston in Mr. Beman s 
 opinion was a third. And all these tendencies 
 were as strong as himself and could not be easily 
 hidden nor charitably overlooked. Not knowing 
 the real strength of any great passion, she could 
 not realize that there might have been a conflict in 
 her father s heart. To children, real sin seems as 
 monstrous as real virtue seems to those who have 
 sinned often, and in respect of real sin, Katharine 
 was yet but a child. She saw a man doing wrong, 
 who said that he acted in accordance with the prin 
 ciples of his religion. She overlooked his tempta 
 tions, she ignored his struggles, she said that he 
 was bad and called his religion a fiction. 
 
 The direct consequence was that such convic 
 tions as she had herself were undermined and 
 shaken and almost ruined, and the moral disturb 
 ance affected her in all the relations of life, except, 
 perhaps, in her love for John Kalston, which grew 
 stronger as other things failed. 
 
 With regard to her friendship for Hester, how 
 ever, it had not, as yet, suffered any rude shock. 
 
CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 KATHARINE and Hester had seen but little of 
 one another during the battle of the will, and a 
 certain awkwardness and reticence had appeared 
 between them, which Katharine attributed alto 
 gether to the question of the fortune. As has been 
 seen, however, it had another source on Hester s 
 side, and one much more likely to produce results 
 that might hurt one or the other or both of them. 
 As for Katharine, it was characteristic of her that 
 she attempted to return to the former cordiality of 
 their relations as soon as the matter of the inheri 
 tance had been settled. 
 
 She found Hester cold and unsympathetic, but 
 she excused her on the ground of the family dis 
 pute, and of the very great disappointment the 
 Crowdies must have suffered from the decision of 
 the court. The conversation turned upon indiffer 
 ent matters and languished, as they sat together in 
 the pretty little room at the front of the house. It 
 was late in the afternoon, and the smell of the 
 spring came in through the open windows. 
 
 "It s getting very dull in New York," said 
 VOL. ii. 13 193 
 
194 THE R ALSTONS. 
 
 Hester, after a long pause. " I think we shall go 
 out of town soon, this year." 
 
 She suppressed a yawn with her diaphanous 
 hand, as she leaned back in her corner of the sofa, 
 staring vacantly at an etching which hung on the 
 opposite wall, and wishing that Katharine would 
 go. Then she rang the bell, having thought of tea 
 as a possible antidote to dulness. 
 
 " I suppose we shall go away, too," said Katha 
 rine, wondering what the summer was to be like. 
 
 The servant came, and got his orders, and went 
 out, and Hester almost yawned again. 
 
 " I don t know what s the matter with me," she 
 said, half apologetically. " I m so sleepy." 
 
 " You ll be all right after you ve had some tea," 
 answered Katharine, trying to think of something 
 pleasant to say, and rinding nothing. 
 
 " I hope so, observed the elder woman. " This 
 is awful. I m conscious of being dreadfully dull." 
 
 " It s probably the reaction," suggested Katha 
 rine. 
 
 There was another long pause. The sound of a 
 carriage passing along the street came in through 
 the windows, but scarcely seemed to break the 
 silence. Presently the servant returned a highly 
 respectable, elderly butler with very white hair, 
 answering to the name of Fletcher. He set down 
 the tea and departed noiselessly and with dignity. 
 He had formerly been butler at the lialstons for 
 
THE R ALSTONS. 195 
 
 a number of years, but Mrs. Kalston had reduced 
 her establishment after her husband s death. 
 
 " What reaction did you mean ? " asked Hester, 
 idly, as she made the tea. 
 
 "Oh I meant the natural reaction after the 
 tremendous excitement we ve all been living in 
 for so long." 
 
 " Oh ! " ejaculated her companion, rather coldly. 
 "I see," she continued after a pause, during which 
 she had made a busy little clatter with the tea 
 things, "you mean because we hoped to get the 
 money and didn t therefore, I m sleepy. That 
 doesn t sound very sensible." 
 
 "Well not as you put it," answered Katha 
 rine, with a short laugh of embarrassment. 
 
 She had determined to attack the subject boldly, 
 so as to break the ice once and for always. Hes 
 ter s aggressive answer put her out. 
 
 " How would you put it ? " enquired the latter, 
 leaning back again and waiting for the tea to draw. 
 "Explain ! I m awfully dull to-day." 
 
 " Don t you think it s natural ? " asked Katha 
 rine. " It s of no use to deny that we ve all been 
 tremendously excited during the last fortnight, and 
 now the excitement has stopped. One s nerves 
 run down that sort of thing, you know and 
 then one s tired and feels depressed." 
 
 "The depression s natural in our case," an 
 swered Hester, lifting the cover and looking into 
 
196 THE R ALSTONS. 
 
 the teapot in a futile way, as though she would see 
 whether the tea were strong enough. 
 
 " Yes," said Katharine, thoughtfully. " Do you 
 know, dear ? It seems to me as though you were 
 thinking that it was my fault, in a way." 
 
 " What ? That I m depressed ? Don t be silly ! 
 Do you like it strong ? I ve forgotten. It s about 
 right now, I should think." 
 
 "A little water, please no cream one lump 
 of sugar thanks. No," she continued, a little 
 impatiently, "you know perfectly well what I 
 mean, if you ll only understand. I suppose that s 
 rather Irish " she laughed again. 
 
 " It s Greek to me ! " replied Hester, smartly, 
 as she poured out her own cup of tea. "You re 
 trying to say something why don t you say 
 it?" 
 
 It began to be clear to Katharine that there 
 were more difficulties in the way of what she was 
 attempting to do, than she had dreamt of. She 
 had expected that Hester would be quite ready to 
 meet her half way, instead of intrenching herself 
 behind an absurd and pretended misunderstanding, 
 as she was doing. The best way seemed to be to 
 enter into an explanation at once. She sipped her 
 tea thoughtfully and then began again. 
 
 "I ll tell you exactly what I mean," she said; 
 " so that you ll see it as I do. I m afraid that this 
 question of money has come between you and me. 
 
THE R ALSTONS. 197 
 
 And if it has, I m very sorry, because I m very fond 
 of you, Hester." 
 
 u Well I m fond of you," answered Hester, in 
 a matter-of-fact tone. " I don t see why the money 
 should make any difference." 
 
 " I hope it doesn t. Only I m afraid it does, 
 in spite of what you say. I don t feel as though 
 we could ever be again exactly what we ve always 
 been until now. But it s not fair, Hester. It s 
 not just. You know very well that if I could have 
 done anything to make the w T ill good, I would have 
 done it. I couldn t. What could I do? It s 
 simply a misfortune that we were on opposite sides 
 of the fight or our people were. I m not exactly 
 what you d call gushing, I suppose indeed, I 
 know I m not. But it hurts me to think that 
 we re to be like strangers, because three men 
 couldn t agree about a signature. It s unnatural. 
 It s not right. I came here to-day, meaning to say 
 so and I m glad I ve had the courage to say it 
 without waiting any longer. But if we re only to 
 know each other in a general way like distant 
 cousins why, it s better to acknowledge it at 
 once. It shan t come from me that s all. But 
 I d rather be prepared for it, you know." 
 
 "So far as I m concerned, I don t want to fight," 
 said Hester, coolly. " I don t see any reason why 
 we should. Of course we don t throw ourselves 
 into each other s arms and cry with delight every 
 
198 THE EALSTONS. 
 
 time we meet, like schoolgirls. We ve outgrown 
 that. But as for my quarrelling with you because 
 your father s inherited a fortune when I ought to 
 have had a part of it it s too ridiculous. You 
 would have had a share, too, under the will. Then 
 you ought to quarrel with your own father, much 
 more than with me. Isn t that common sense?" 
 
 "Yes I suppose it is. But you don t say it 
 exactly as though 
 
 Katharine stopped short. She was afraid of 
 seeming impulsive, as many people of self-con 
 tained natures are. She knew that she was not 
 herself very expansive, as a rule, in her expressions 
 of affection. But Hester was, and the change from 
 her former manner to her present coldness was 
 startling. One may miss in others what one would 
 not have in oneself, and one may resent another s 
 refusal to give it. The regret of missing anything 
 is not measured by its value, but by the strength 
 of the habit its presence has created. Men lib 
 erated after years of captivity have missed their 
 chains. The Irish woman in the typical story 
 complained that her husband no longer beat her. 
 She missed it. 
 
 "I ll say it in any way you like," answered 
 Hester, hardly. "It seems to me that we re just 
 as good friends as ever. I see no difference." 
 
 "I do," answered Katharine. "And there s 
 always going to be a difference, now," she added, 
 regretfully. 
 
THE R ALSTONS. 199 
 
 She was conscious that in some unaccountable 
 way the positions had been reversed with regard 
 to her character and her friend s. It should natu 
 rally have been the more passionate, expansive, 
 sensitive woman who should be almost begging 
 that the old friendship might not be forgotten, and 
 Katharine herself, the colder of the two, the one by 
 far less easily carried away by passing emotions, 
 should have been giving the assurance that noth 
 ing was changed. It was incomprehensible to her, 
 as well it might be, since there was a cause for 
 Hester s behaviour which lay very far from the 
 question of money, though the coldness which the 
 latter had caused was helping to make matters 
 worse. 
 
 " I suppose we re outgrowing each other," sug 
 gested Hester, who was more or less anxious to 
 account for the change, since Katharine was lay 
 ing such great stress upon it. " You know that s 
 the way of the world," she added, tritely. " People 
 are ever so fond of each other for a long time, and 
 then all at once they rind out that they re not what 
 they were, you know, and that they don t really 
 care." 
 
 "Oh do you look at it in that way ? " Katha 
 rine s voice and manner changed, for she was hurt. 
 " But don t you think this outgrowing, as you call 
 it, has been rather sudden ? It s only about three 
 weeks since we were talking quite differently. It 
 can t be more, I m sure." 
 
200 THE RALSTONS. 
 
 " Isn t it ? " asked Hester, indifferently. " Keally, 
 it seems ever so long since we sat here and told 
 each other things." 
 
 There is a beautiful vagueness about the language 
 of a woman when she wishes to have something 
 forgotten. 
 
 " It seems long to me, too, in another way," 
 answered Katharine. "It s far off like a good 
 many things that happened then." 
 
 Hester made no answer to this remark, but 
 leaned back against her cushion and meditatively 
 nibbled the edge of a ginger-snap. 
 
 " Of course," said Katharine, " if you want it all 
 to end here, I m not going to cry and behave like 
 the schoolgirl you talked about " 
 
 " No," interrupted Hester, munching her biscuit 
 audibly ; "it isn t worth it." 
 
 " Once upon a time we should both have thought 
 it was," answered the young girl. "But when a 
 thing like friendship s gone it s gone, that s all, 
 and there s nothing more to be said about it." 
 
 " I wish you wouldn t be so silly, my dear ! " 
 exclaimed Hester, who, having swallowed the 
 remains of the ginger-snap, suddenly realized that 
 she might at least bury her intima cy with a 
 protest to the effect that it was not dead. "You 
 really go on as though we were lovers, and I had 
 betrayed you. In the first place it doesn t follow, 
 because we re grown up and not exactly what we 
 
THE RALSTONS. 201 
 
 used to be, that there s no friendship between us. 
 We can go on just the same as ever, even if we 
 talk differently and gush less, and we can see just 
 as much of each other as we always did. You ve 
 got some idea or other into your head about my 
 being cold, because I m sleepy and dull to-day. 
 Probably the next time we meet it will be just 
 the opposite, and you ll think me too gushing." 
 
 So long as Hester had made no serious pretence 
 of anything more than she felt, confining herself 
 more or less to generalities and vaguely saying 
 that she desired no break, Katharine had remained 
 calm, but something in the last speech seemed to 
 ring outrageously false, and the blood slowly rose 
 to her throat and ebbed again without reaching her 
 cheeks. 
 
 "Don t pretend!" she exclaimed. " We ve got 
 to get at the truth to-day, if we re ever to get at it 
 at all." 
 
 Hester raised her beautiful eyebrows, as deli 
 cately and finely marked as though they had been 
 drawn with pen and ink. 
 
 "My dear child!" she answered, with real or 
 affected surprise. " Don t fly into little pink rages 
 like that." 
 
 "I m not in a rage," protested Katharine. "And 
 if I were, I shouldn t be pink I never am. But 
 I don t want you to pretend things you don t feel. 
 We ve never pretended much with each other, and 
 
202 THE R ALSTONS. 
 
 I don t want to begin now. It s over and done for. 
 Let s make up our minds to it and be sensible. I 
 don t see that there s anything else to be done. But 
 don t let s pretend things. I hate that." 
 
 " Xot half so much as I do, my dear/ said Hes 
 ter, airily, as though to close the discussion. " I 
 don t see the slightest good in talking about it any 
 more. You ve got it into your head that I ve 
 changed. If you believe it, you know it, for Mr. 
 Griggs says that " 
 
 " Do leave Mr. Griggs alone ! " cried Katharine, 
 irritably. " It isn t a mere idea, either. You said 
 we d outgrown each other. I m not conscious of 
 having grown a head taller in the last three weeks. 
 But so far as talking about it goes, you re quite 
 right. Only " her voice changed again and took 
 a gentler tone " let s part friends, Hester, for the 
 sake of all that has been." 
 
 " Why, of course ! " exclaimed Hester, with in 
 sincere frankness. "That is, if you insist upon 
 parting, as you call it. But I declare ! we might 
 just as well be a pair of lovers quarrelling, you 
 know. It s just about as sensible, on the whole." 
 
 " I suppose things mean more to me than they 
 do to you," answered Katharine, with sudden cold 
 ness. " Friendship like everything else like 
 
 She was going to say l like love, but checked her 
 self. In that at least she felt that she must have 
 been mistaken. Whatever else she might think of 
 
THE E ALSTONS. 203 
 
 Hester, she knew that she was almost insanely in 
 love with her husband. At the very moment when 
 the words were on her lips the thought flashed 
 through her mind, that with Hester it might be 
 the half-desperate, all-absorbing passion which was 
 draining her of all capacity for any other attach 
 ment. Katharine thought of herself and of her 
 love for Ralston, and felt more real sympathy for 
 her friend just then than she had felt for many a 
 day. 
 
 As she ceased speaking she heard the hall door 
 opened and shut again, just outside the sitting- 
 room, and a moment later she heard Crowdie s soft 
 voice, low and sweet, humming to himself as he 
 began to ascend the stairs. As she turned to Hes 
 ter, as though to continue speaking, she saw how 
 the pale face had changed in a moment. Every 
 faculty was strained to catch the faint echo of the 
 melody, the deep eyes gleamed, there was colour in 
 the transparent cheeks, the dewy lips were just 
 parted. There was nothing unreal nor affected in 
 that. 
 
CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 KATHARINE could not keep the expression of 
 curiosity out of her eyes as she watched Hester 
 Crowdie. The woman s whole manner had changed 
 in an instant, and she seemed to be another person. 
 She seemed trying to hold her breath to catch the 
 distant and ever retreating sound of her husband s 
 voice. The colour in her pale cheeks heightened 
 and paled and heightened again in visible varia 
 tions. Her slender throat fluttered with quick 
 pulsations like that of a singing bird or a chame 
 leon, and her deep eyes were filled with light. 
 Katharine even fancied that the little ringlets of 
 soft brown hair trembled and waved like the leaves 
 of a sensitive plant, impossible as it was. Hester s 
 whole being was all at once intensely alive, in 
 tensely sensitive, intensely brilliant. A few min 
 utes earlier she had been leaning back against her 
 cushion, suppressing a yawn from time to time, 
 saying cold and disagreeable things, pale, cool, 
 diaphanous. 
 
 Katharine moved slightly, and the white hand 
 was upon hers instantly, with a light touch of 
 warning, as though to silence her, lest a single 
 204 
 
THE RALSTONS. 205 
 
 faint echo of Crowdie s voice should fail to reach 
 Hester s ears. 
 
 The young girl wondered whether she herself 
 ever behaved so strangely when John Ralston was 
 near, and whether any one sitting beside her could 
 see his presence reflected in her eyes. She did not 
 know, though she believed herself, as she really 
 was, colder and less quick to show what she felt. 
 The last note died away as Crowdie ascended the 
 staircase and got out of hearing, and Hester sank 
 back against her cushion again. The colour faded 
 from her cheek, the light died in her eyes, and her 
 throat was quiet. The bloodless hands just met 
 on her knees, and the tips of the slight fingers 
 tapped one another nervously two or three times, 
 and then lay quite still. 
 
 There had been something in the quickly succeed 
 ing changes which struck Katharine as not exactly 
 human, though she could have found no other 
 word with which to describe better the phases 
 of the passing sensitiveness she had witnessed. 
 But it had been more like the infinitive sensitive 
 ness of nature than the ordinary responses of an 
 impressionable woman. Katharine had thought of 
 the sensitive plant, for she had seen many in hot 
 houses and had often played with them, softly 
 stroking the fern-like plumes made by the two 
 rows of tiny oval leaves, and delighting to see 
 how they rose and waved, and tried to find and 
 
206 THE EALSTONS. 
 
 follow her finger. And she thought, too, of stories 
 she had heard about the behaviour of animals 
 before an earthquake, a great storm, or any terri 
 ble convulsion of nature. She had never before 
 quite understood that, but it was clear to her now. 
 
 At the same time she felt a strong sympathy for 
 Hester, and for the love which was so unmistak 
 able and real. It was impossible for her to com 
 prehend how such love could exist for such a man 
 as Crowdie, whom she herself thought so strangely 
 repulsive, though she could rind nothing to say 
 against him. It could only be explained on the 
 ground of an elective affinity, mysterious in its 
 source, but most manifest in its results. She had 
 never been allowed to read Goethe s great book, 
 but the title of it had always meant something to 
 her, and represented a set of ideas which she used 
 in order to explain the inexplicable. It was true, 
 also, so far as she could see, that between Hester 
 and Crowdie the affinity was mutual and almost 
 equally strong, and Katharine thought with an 
 unpleasant sensation of the way Crowdie some 
 times smiled at his wife. Of course, she thought, 
 if one did not object to a certain amount of woman 
 liness in a man s looks and manner, nor to a pale, 
 pear-shaped face with intensely red lips, nor to a 
 figure which altogether lacked masculine dignity 
 if one could forget all those things and consider 
 what Crowdie must seem to a blind woman, for 
 
THE RALSTONS. 207 
 
 instance, and if one could forgive a certain insolent 
 softness of speech which now and then was his, 
 why, then, Crowdie was one of the most charming 
 of men. There was no word but that one. Take 
 him all in all, his remarkable power as a portrait 
 painter, developed by study and real industry, his 
 exquisite voice and perfect taste in singing so 
 perfect that there was not a trace of that art 
 which it is art s mission to conceal his conversa 
 tion, which was often brilliant and almost always 
 interesting, taking him all in all, thought Katha 
 rine, and quite apart from his appearance, he was 
 a marvellously gifted man. She had never known 
 a man like him. Paul Griggs was not to be de 
 spised as a judge of men, for he had seen and 
 known many who were worth knowing, and Paul 
 Griggs liked Crowdie and was intimate with him. 
 It was true that no other man of Katharine s 
 acquaintance liked him, but Griggs opinion might 
 outweigh that of many just men. But when she 
 thought of Crowdie s appearance, she marvelled 
 how any woman could love him. There was some 
 thing about it which thrilled her painfully, like a 
 strong, bad taste yet not so as to hinder her 
 from feeling sympathy for Hester, in spite of all 
 the latter had said during the past half hour. 
 
 " How you love him ! " she exclaimed, when the 
 voice had died away, and Hester leaned back again 
 in her seat. 
 
208 THE RALSTONS. 
 
 The words were spoken impulsively and half 
 unconsciously the natural expression of the 
 young girl s wonder. But Hester s eyes turned 
 quickly, with a suspicious glance which Katharine 
 did not see and could not have understood. 
 
 "Well is there any harm in my loving my 
 husband ? " asked Hester, in a tone of unmistak 
 able resentment. 
 
 Katharine turned and looked at her in surprise, 
 not realizing that she could possibly have given 
 offence. 
 
 " Harm ! why no no more harm than there is 
 in my saying so nor than I meant, when I spoke. 
 Why, are you angry ? " 
 
 " I m not angry. Why did you say it, though 
 and just then ? I want to know." 
 
 She fixed her eyes on Katharine, and a little 
 colour came back suddenly to her cheeks, just 
 where it had been while Crowdie was singing 
 as a transparent glass, that has been heated red in 
 the flame and has cooled, flushes where it had 
 flushed before, almost as soon as it is brought to 
 the fire. 
 
 " Why did I say it ? " repeated Katharine, sur 
 prised. "I don t know, I m sure. It was a very 
 natural remark. Everybody knows that you love 
 your husband very much. I suppose it struck me 
 particularly at that moment. How strange of you 
 to take offence ! " 
 
THE R ALSTONS. 209 
 
 " I m not offended. I only want to know why 
 you said it just then. Did I change colour or 
 what ? " 
 
 " A little colour came into your face yes. It s 
 very becoming/ added Katharine, by way of pro 
 pitiation. 
 
 "Yes I know. You needn t tell me that I m 
 generally too pale. Were my eyes different from 
 usual ? " 
 
 " They were very bright, with a far-away look at 
 the same time as though you saw him through 
 the wall." 
 
 " Do you think any one would have noticed how 
 I looked? I mean any one sitting near me, as 
 you are ? " 
 
 " I should think so yes," answered Katharine, 
 without much hesitation. " I only said what any 
 one would have thought who happened to see. you 
 just then. I didn t think there was any harm in 
 it. I shall certainly never say it again, since you re 
 displeased." 
 
 "Oh that doesn t matter ! " exclaimed Hester, 
 with a little scornful laugh. " As we re not to be 
 friends any more, you can displease me as much as 
 you like now. It doesn t matter in the least ! " 
 
 " How strange you are, Hester ! " Katharine 
 said, thoughtfully. " I don t in the least under 
 stand you." 
 
 " We never really understood each other," replied 
 
 VOL. II. 14 
 
210 THE R ALSTONS. 
 
 Hester. " We only thought we did. But as I 
 say since we re not to be friends any more, it s 
 of no consequence." 
 
 " You can t say that that we never understood 
 each other," said Katharine. " It s not true." 
 
 "Oh yes, it is! We never understood never, 
 what I mean by understanding. So I blush, and 
 stare, and behave like a schoolgirl, when Walter 
 comes in singing ! I didn t know it. I am glad 
 you ve told me, for I don t like to do foolish 
 things in public." 
 
 " I don t think it s always foolish to show what 
 one feels. It s better to feel something, and show 
 it, than to feel nothing at all." 
 
 " I should think so ! " Hester laughed rather 
 contemptuously again, and glanced at Katharine s 
 face. 
 
 The young girl moved, as though she were about 
 to rise, the little preliminary movement which 
 most women make, as a clock gives warning five 
 minutes before it strikes. It is often a tentative 
 measure, and there is some expectation on the 
 part of her who moves that her friend will make 
 at least a show of detaining her. When she does 
 not mean to do so, she herself generally moves a 
 little, which precipitates matters. If men could 
 understand this, they would more often be able 
 to understand whether they are wanted any longer 
 or not. But, instead, they rarely give warning, but 
 
THE R ALSTONS. 211 
 
 seize their hats, in countries where it is manners 
 to carry them, and rise with one movement, giving 
 the lady no choice about detaining them or not. 
 
 On the present occasion, as soon as Katharine 
 moved, Hester did likewise, sitting up straight, 
 and pushing the small tea-table a little away from 
 her, in order to make room for herself to rise. 
 Katharine did not fail to notice the fact, and got 
 up at once. 
 
 "I m sorry we can t make it up, Hester," she 
 said, regretfully. "I m sorry if we re both changed 
 so much in such a short time. I shouldn t have 
 thought it possible." 
 
 " The world s full of surprises," observed Hester, 
 rising and slipping out from behind the tea-table. 
 
 " Oh really, Hester ! " exclaimed Katharine, 
 impatiently. " You needn t make it worse by say 
 ing such things as that, you know ! " 
 
 " What things ? Isn t it true, my dear ? I m 
 sure I ve found the world a very surprising place 
 to live in. Haven t you ? " 
 
 Katharine said nothing, but turned her face 
 away a little, and made haste over her gloves, 
 which she had forgotten to put on before rising, 
 in her sudden haste to get away. Hester looked 
 down at the tea-table, and absently took up a 
 teaspoon and moved a little leaf that lay in the 
 bottom of the empty cup. Katharine was only 
 just beginning to use her right hand a little, and 
 
212 THE RALST03S. 
 
 had difficulty in buttoning the glove on her left. 
 She tried once or twice, and then turned to Hester. 
 
 " I wish you d button it for me," she said. " I 
 can t do anything with my right hand, it s so 
 weak." 
 
 She held out her left, and Hester bent over it. 
 But before she had fastened two buttons, she 
 started, and looked at the door. Her quick ear 
 had caught her husband s footfall as he came 
 downstairs again, doubtless in search of her. She 
 paused, and held her breath, listening, though he 
 was not singing now. The footsteps came nearer, 
 the handle of the door turned, and Crowdie 
 entered the room. 
 
 " Oh Miss Lauderdale ! " he exclaimed. Then 
 he smiled at Hester, who held out her hand, and he 
 touched it with his lips, in a foreign fashion. 
 " You re not going away ? " he asked, turning to 
 Katharine again. "Just as I ve come in. Do sit 
 down again! Now, please give me a cup of tea, 
 Hester I m tired and thirsty and I ve been 
 awfully bored. Do sit down, Miss Lauderdale! 
 Just a minute, to please me ! " 
 
 "Well I would," answered Katharine, affect 
 ing a hesitation she did not feel, in order not to 
 seem ungracious. "I would but I really must 
 be going. I ve been here ever so long, already." 
 
 " Yes but you ve got another welcome to wear 
 out mine," he said, letting his voice soften and 
 dwell on the last word. 
 
THE KALSTONS. 213 
 
 " I really think Katharine s in a hurry," said 
 Hester, who was pale. 
 
 Katharine glanced at her in some surprise. She 
 had never in her life been so plainly told to go 
 away, and she was inclined to resent the rudeness. 
 She might never enter the house again, but she 
 did not choose to be turned out of it by a woman 
 who a few weeks earlier had professed with pro 
 testations that she was her dearest and closest 
 friend. 
 
 " You can t be in such a hurry as all that," 
 objected Crowdie, who supposed that Katharine 
 had really said that she was pressed for time. 
 " Besides, I ve got something to show you." 
 
 "Have you?" asked Katharine, suddenly glad 
 of an excuse for staying a few moments, in spite of 
 Hester s anxiety to get rid of her. 
 
 Hester looked at her husband in surprise, and 
 her finely chiselled lips moved and almost trem 
 bled. 
 
 " What do you mean, Walter ? " she asked, in an 
 uncertain tone. 
 
 " Oh don t you know ? That head of poor 
 uncle Kobert, I did last night. I want to show 
 it to Miss Lauderdale she knew his face better 
 than any of us." 
 
 Katharine tried to detect a shade of irony in 
 the words ; but they were spoken quite naturally, 
 without the least underthought. 
 
214 THE RALSTONS. 
 
 " 1 should like to see it," she answered, quietly, 
 after an instant s silence. 
 
 " I ll get it," said Crowdie, " if you don t mind 
 waiting a minute. It s in your dressing-room, 
 isn t it, Hester ? " he asked, turning to his wife. 
 " You were looking at it last night, just before 
 you went to bed. I did it late in the evening," 
 he added, explaining to Katharine. 
 
 " Certainly," she replied. " I ll wait while you 
 get it. I should really like to see it." 
 
 Crowdie left the room, an d her eyes followed 
 him, and she disliked the undulating, feminine 
 swing of his walk. He was badly made, having 
 low, sloping shoulders, and being heavy about the 
 waist, though he was not stout. He left the door 
 open, and the two women waited in silence, not look 
 ing at one another. A moment later they heard 
 Crowdie moving about overhead, where Hester s 
 dressing-room was situated, corresponding with the 
 sitting-room in which they were. Hester listened 
 intently, her eyes turned upwards towards the 
 ceiling, as though they could help her to hear. 
 
 "He can t find it," she said. "I d better go 
 and help him he ll never find it alone." 
 
 She made a step towards the door, paused, 
 and listened again. The wrathful instinct grew 
 stronger in Katharine. She imagined that Hester 
 had thought of going upstairs in order to escape 
 from the unpleasantness of being alone with her 
 a little longer. 
 
THE RALSTONS. 215 
 
 " If you d finish buttoning my glove," she said, 
 calmly, "I ll go without waiting. I m very sorry, 
 but I can t do it myself." 
 
 Hester s eyebrows twitched irritably, but she 
 bent over the outstretched hand, for she could not 
 do otherwise. A moment later Crowdie s foot 
 step was heard on the stairs again, and he came in 
 tli rough the open door. 
 
 "I ve hunted everywhere!" he exclaimed. "I 
 can t think where you ve put it. I wish you d go 
 and find it for me, dear. It s awfully stupid of 
 me, I know ! " 
 
 "Oh I know just where it is," answered 
 Hester. "You must have seen it why, I set it 
 up on the toilet-table, on one side of the looking- 
 glass, turned to the light." 
 
 " Well it s not there now," said Crowdie, " be 
 cause I ve just looked." 
 
 "I m sure it s there," replied Hester, going 
 towards the door. " Nobody could have moved 
 it." 
 
 "Go and see, darling I assure you I ve looked 
 everywhere for it, and I don t believe it s in the 
 room at all." 
 
 It was one of those absurd little discussions 
 which occur between two people, the one who has 
 seen, and the other who believes. Hester left the 
 room rather impetuously, being absolutely sure 
 that she was right. She, also, left the door open 
 behind her. 
 
216 THE R ALSTONS. 
 
 " Can t I button your glove for you ? " asked 
 Crowdie. "I saw that Hester was doing it when 
 I came in." 
 
 Crowdie s touch was intensely disagreeable to 
 Katharine, but she held out her hand to him, in 
 spite of the fact. Just then, she felt that she 
 should almost prefer to let him do it, rather than 
 let Hester help her. She was standing in the 
 middle of the room, half turned away from the 
 door. 
 
 " I thought you would like to see the sketch," 
 said Crowdie, fastening the button nearest to her 
 wrist with his deft, pointed fingers, skilful as any 
 woman s. "I did it on a board last night just 
 a crayon thing from memory, with an old photo 
 graph to help me. Hester thought it was very 
 like. If you approve of it, I ll paint a picture 
 from it." 
 
 " I wish you would ! " answered Katharine. 
 "There never was anything good of him I 
 should so like to have something " 
 
 She checked herself, having momentarily for 
 gotten that Crowdie had been a very heavy loser, 
 through his wife, by the decision in the case of 
 the will, and that he could hardly be expected to 
 make a present to one of her family, under the 
 circumstances. 
 
 " Why do you hesitate ? " he asked, pausing at 
 the last button and looking into her face. 
 
THE R ALSTONS. 217 
 
 " Oh because I don t know ! " She was a 
 little embarrassed. "I was afraid I d spoken as 
 though I meant to ask for the sketch." 
 
 " You didn t ! " laughed Crovvdie, softly. " You re 
 going to have it anyway. I made it for you." 
 
 "I don t believe that," answered Katharine, 
 quickly, but smiling. " You re only trying to help 
 me out of my rudeness. But it s very generous of 
 you to think of giving me anything, after all that s 
 happened." 
 
 " Why ? Do you mean about the will ? Really, 
 Miss Lauderdale, if you think I m that sort of 
 person " 
 
 He stopped and laughed again, so naturally and 
 easily that she hardly doubted his sincerity. His 
 womanish eyes looked innocently into hers. He 
 held her left wrist in both his hands, just as he 
 had paused in the act of buttoning the glove. 
 
 Overhead, Hester s light footstep^ was audible in 
 the short silence that followed, as she moved about 
 the room, searching for the sketch, which had 
 evidently not been in the place where she had 
 left it. 
 
 "Besides," added Crowdie, after a short pause, 
 "you re not your father. And if you were," he 
 continued, lightly, "that wouldn t be a reason for 
 being horrid. The law decided it, and I suppose 
 the law was right. Mr. Lauderdale didn t make 
 the law, and it gave him his rights. Hester and I 
 
218 THE RALSTONS. 
 
 shall get along just as well on Avhat we ve always 
 had. I don t complain. Of course it would be 
 nice to buy Greek islands, and play with marble 
 palaces and Oriental luxury. But after all, I m a 
 painter. I suppose it s an assumption, or a boast, 
 or something. But I don t care before you I 
 like painting, and I should always paint, and I 
 should always want to sell my pictures, if I had a 
 hundred millions. What could Hester and I do 
 with five or six hundred thousand a year ? That 
 would have been about our share. I shouldn t 
 feel like myself, if I didn t earnv money by what 
 I do. I suppose you can t understand that, can 
 you ? " 
 
 "Oh yes, I can," answered Katharine, quickly. 
 " I understand it, and I like it in you. It s because 
 you re not an amateur that you feel like that." 
 
 "I m not exactly an amateur," said Crowdie, with 
 a smile. "As for the sketch, or the picture, if I 
 paint it, they re yours. You were the old gentle 
 man s favourite, and it s right that you should 
 have a portrait of him that is if you ll accept 
 it." 
 
 "Thank you very much. I don t know about 
 taking it, exactly it s much too generous of you." 
 
 She knew what Crowdie s work was worth, for 
 he was a very successful man at portrait painting, 
 and he had never seemed to care much for any 
 other variety of the art. He was more or less of 
 
THE EALSTONS. 219 
 
 a specialist in his own department, but so far as he 
 went, he brought an amount of experience and a 
 richness of conception to bear upon what he did, 
 which had carried him beyond most rivals. Pos 
 sibly he had not in him the stuff which makes the 
 greatest artists the manly, ascetic, devoted nature 
 which has in it a touch of the fanatic, the absolute 
 concentration of all faculties upon a single but 
 many-sided task. He was, in a way, the product of 
 the age, an artist and a good one, but a specialist 
 an expert in the painting of portraits. All his 
 gifts favoured and strengthened the tendency. 
 
 "I don t see anything generous in offering you 
 one of my daubs ! " he laughed, in answer to what 
 Katharine had said last. " Hester can t find it 
 I knew it wasn t where she said it was," he added, 
 after a short pause, during which he listened for 
 his wife s footstep. 
 
 " Please button the last button, too," said Katha 
 rine, who had listened also, but had heard nothing. 
 " You re so awfully clever at it." 
 
 "Am I?" he asked, still smiling. "This is 
 evidently my day of grace and favour in your royal 
 eyes." 
 
 His beautiful voice had an inflection of some 
 thing like tenderness in it, which displeased Katha 
 rine. She pushed his hands lightly with hers as 
 he held it, to remind him of what he was doing. 
 
 " Please button it ! " she said, a little imperi- 
 
220 THE EALSTONS. 
 
 ously, and looking at the button in question as she 
 spoke, but quite conscious of his eyes. 
 
 He inclined his head dutifully, after gazing at 
 her an instant longer, and then bent over the hand 
 again and quietly slipped the button through the 
 button-hole, touching it very delicately and in 
 evident fear of tightening the glove so as to pinch 
 her arm. Gloves with buttons chanced to be the 
 fashion just then, in an interval between two fits 
 of the Biarritz gauntlet. When he had performed 
 the little operation, he glanced at each of the 
 others in turn, touching each with his finger, while 
 Katharine watched him carelessly. Then, before 
 she could withdraw her hand, he bent his head a 
 little more and lightly kissed the button at her 
 wrist, releasing it instantly. 
 
 Katharine drew it back almost before he had 
 let it go, with a quick movement of displeasure. 
 
 " Don t do that ! " she cried, in a low voice. 
 
 But as he raised his head Crowdie turned ashy 
 pale. Even his lips lost some of their over-brilliant 
 colour, and his eyes lost their light. Hester had 
 descended the stairs noiselessly and stood in the 
 open door, her face whiter than his. As their 
 glances met, she dropped the sheet of pasteboard 
 she held in one hand by her side, and steadied 
 herself against the door-post. Katharine turned 
 quickly and saw her. It did not strike the young 
 girl that such agitation could be due to having 
 
THE RALSTONS. 221 
 
 seen what Crowdie had done. Katharine herself 
 had been annoyed, but, after all, it was an innocent 
 offence, she thought, especially for a man who had 
 lived long abroad, and could not be supposed to 
 attach much importance to the act of touching a 
 glove with his lips, when he had been long familiar 
 with the custom of kissing a lady s hand instead 
 of shaking it at meeting and parting, if the hand 
 were offered to him. 
 
 "Why, Hester!" she exclaimed. "What s the 
 matter ? Are you ill ? " 
 
 "No it s nothing," answered Hester, twisting 
 her lips to form the words. " Here s the drawing. 
 I ran I m out of breath." 
 
 She held it out as she spoke, and Crowdie took 
 it from her mechanically. His hand trembled as 
 he did so, for he was a coward. Hester turned 
 from them both and went to the open window. 
 She lifted one hand and rested it on the sash at 
 the level of her head. They could not see that the 
 other was pressed to her heart, for she kept the 
 elbow close to her side. Crowdie was still pale 
 and trembling, and he glanced uneasily towards 
 her, as he held up the drawing to Katharine to 
 look at. 
 
 "Give it to me," said the young girl, uncon 
 sciously speaking in a low voice. "Your hand 
 shakes." 
 
 She began to wonder exactly what had taken 
 
222 THE BALSTONS. 
 
 place, and could find no explanation except Crow- 
 die s small offence. Instantly, she understood that 
 Hester was desperately jealous of her. It some 
 times takes longer to understand such things in 
 real life, when they are very far from one s thoughts, 
 than to guess them from the most meagre descrip 
 tion of what has taken place. Katharine almost 
 laughed when she realized the truth. She looked 
 intently at the drawing. 
 
 " It s wonderfully like ! " she exclaimed, feeling 
 that matters would be worse if she did not express 
 some admiration of the work, though she found it 
 hard to concentrate her attention upon the familiar 
 features. " Especially the " she did not know 
 what she was saying " the beard," she added, 
 completing her sentence. 
 
 "Ah, yes the beard as you say," responded 
 Crowdie, in a rather tremulous tone, arid glancing 
 at his wife s figure. Then he laughed very ner 
 vously. " Yes the beard s like, isn t it ? " he 
 said. 
 
 " Oh, very ! " answered Katharine, looking quickly 
 at Hester and then intently at the pasteboard 
 again. " Every hair " 
 
 "Yes." And Crowdie tried to laugh again, as 
 though it would help him. " There are hairs in 
 the pasteboard, too sticking up here and there 
 it helps the illusion, doesn t it ? " 
 
 " Why, so there are ! " Katharine looked at the 
 
THE RALSTONS. 223 
 
 drawing in silence for a moment and collected her 
 self. " The expression s very good," she said. " I 
 like a picture when the eyes look right at you." 
 
 She raised her own mechanically as she spoke, 
 and she realized how white he was. She held out 
 the drawing to him. 
 
 "Thanks, so much," she said. "I m glad to 
 have seen it. It was so good of you. I really 
 must be going now. It s getting late." 
 
 He took the drawing and laid it carefully upon 
 the table, with the instinctive forethought of the 
 artist for the safety of his work. 
 
 "Good-bye, Hester," said Katharine, moving a 
 step towards the window. 
 
 Hester turned abruptly. There were deep shad 
 ows under her eyes, and there was a bright colour 
 in her face now, but not like that which had come 
 to it when her husband had passed the door, sing 
 ing. As she stood with her back against the bright 
 light of the window, however, Katharine could 
 hardly distinguish her features. 
 
 " Oh good-bye," said Hester in a strange, cold 
 voice, not moving and not holding out her hand. 
 
 But Katharine extended her own, for she entirely 
 refused to be treated as though she had injured her 
 friend, just as ? little while earlier, she had chosen 
 to stay a few minutes rather than to take a hint so 
 broad that it sounded like an order to go. She 
 went nearer to the window. 
 
224 THE RALSTONS. 
 
 " Good-bye, Hester/ she repeated, holding out 
 her hand in such a way that Hester could not 
 refuse to take it. 
 
 And Hester took it, but dropped it again in 
 stantly. Katharine nodded quietly, turned, nodded 
 again to Crowdie in exactly the same way, and passed 
 out through the open door, calmly and proudly, being 
 quite sure that she had done nothing to be ashamed 
 of. She knew, at the moment, that all hope of ever 
 renewing her friendship was gone, at least for the 
 present, and she regretted the fact to the last 
 minute, and was willing to show that she did. 
 Hester s behaviour had been incomprehensible from 
 the first, and it was still a mystery to Katharine 
 when she left the house. One thing only was 
 clear, and that was the woman s uncontrollable 
 jealousy during the little scene which had taken 
 place. The idea of connecting that jealousy with 
 former events never crossed the young girl s mind, 
 and of finding an original cause for it in the fact 
 of Crowdie s having sung at Mrs. Bright s on a 
 certain evening three weeks earlier. Still less 
 could she have guessed that it had begun long ago, 
 during the preceding winter, when she had sat for 
 her portrait in Crowdie s studio, while Hester lay 
 extended upon the divan where she could watch 
 her husband s face, and note every passing look of 
 admiration that crossed it, as he of necessity studied 
 the features of his model. Such an idea was alto- 
 
THE EALSTONS. 225 
 
 gether too far removed from Katharine, in her 
 ignorance of human nature as far as Hester s 
 passion for her husband, which went beyond the 
 limits of what the young girl had ever dreamed of 
 in its excessive sensitiveness. 
 
 Katharine closed the front door behind her and 
 went out into the street. As she descended the 
 neat white stone steps she was close to the open 
 windows of the little sitting-room and could have 
 heard anything which might have been said within. 
 But no sound of voices reached her. She could 
 not help glancing over her shoulder towards the 
 window, as she turned away, and she could see that 
 Hester was still standing with her back to it, as 
 she had stood when Katharine had insisted upon 
 taking leave of her. 
 
 She walked slowly homewards, wondering what 
 was taking place since she had left the two together, 
 and going over in her mind the details of the scene. 
 She remembered Crowdie s face very distinctly. 
 She was not sure that she had ever in her life seen 
 a man badly frightened before, and it had produced 
 a very vivid impression upon her at the time. And 
 she recalled the picture of Hester, standing in the 
 doorway, the pasteboard at her feet, and her hand 
 raised to support herself against the doorway. She 
 had heard of i domestic tragedies, as they are 
 called in the newspapers, and she wondered whether 
 they ever began in that way. 
 
 VOL. II. 15 
 
CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 HESTER CROWDIE heard Katharine s footfall 
 outside, and did not move from her position at the 
 window until she had listened to the last retreat 
 ing echo of the young girl s light step upon the 
 pavement. It was very still after that, for Lafay 
 ette Place is an unfrequented corner a quiet 
 island, as it were, round which the great rivers of 
 traffic flow in all directions. Only now and then 
 a lumbering van thunders through it, to draw up 
 at the great printing establishment at the southeast 
 corner, or a private carriage rolls along and stops, 
 with a discreet clatter, at the Bishop s House, on 
 the west side, almost opposite the dowdies 
 dwelling. 
 
 But as Hester stood in silence, with her back to 
 the window, her eyes rested with a fixed look on 
 her husband s face. He was pale, and his own 
 beautiful eyes had lost their self-possessed calm. 
 He looked at her, but his glance shifted quickly 
 from one point to another from her throat to 
 her shoulder, from her hair to the window behind 
 her in a frightened and anxious way, avoiding her 
 steady gaze. 
 
THE R ALSTONS. 227 
 
 What he had done was harmless enough, if not 
 altogether innocent, in itself. That there had 
 been something not exactly right about it, or about 
 the way in which he had done it, was indirectly 
 proved by Katharine s own quick displeasure. 
 But he knew, himself, how much it had meant to 
 Hester, over, above and beyond any commonly 
 simple interpretation which might be put upon it. 
 His face and manner showed that he knew it, long 
 before she spoke the first word of what was to 
 come. 
 
 " Walter ! " 
 
 She uttered his name in a low tone that quivered 
 with the pain she felt, full of suffering, and re 
 proach, and disappointment. Instantly his eyes 
 fell before hers, but he answered nothing. He 
 looked at his own white hand as it rested on the 
 back of a chair. 
 
 " Look at me ! " she said, almost sharply, with 
 a rising intonation. 
 
 He looked up timidly, and a slight flush ap 
 peared on his pale forehead, but not in his cheeks. 
 
 " I don t know why you make such a fuss about 
 nothing," he said, in the colourless voice of a 
 frightened boy, caught in mischief before he has 
 had time to invent an excuse. 
 
 " Don t use such absurd words ! " cried Hester, 
 with sudden energy. " It s bad enough as it is. 
 You love her. Say so ! Be a man be done with 
 it!" 
 
228 THE KALSTONS. 
 
 " I certainly won t say that," answered Crowdio, 
 regaining a little self-possession under the exag 
 gerated accusation. " It wouldn t be true." 
 
 " I ve seen I know ! " She turned from him 
 again and rested her forehead on her hands against 
 the raised sash of the window. 
 
 He gained courage, when he no longer felt her 
 eyes upon him, and he found words. 
 
 " You ve no right to say that I love Katharine 
 Lauderdale," he said. " You saw what I did, and 
 all I did. Well what harm was there in kissing 
 her hand not her hand, her glove, when I had 
 fastened it ? " 
 
 " What harm ! " she repeated, in a low voice, 
 without turning to him, and moving her head a 
 little against her hands. 
 
 " Yes what harm was there, I ask ? Wasn t 
 it a perfectly natural thing to do ? Haven t you 
 seen me " 
 
 " Natural ! " Hester turned again very quickly 
 and came forward two steps into the room. " Nat 
 ural ! " she repeated. " Yes that s it it was 
 natural oh, too natural ! What else could you 
 do ? Buttoning her glove her hand in yours 
 and you, loving her you kissed it ! Ah, yes, I 
 know how natural it was ! And you tell me there 
 was no harm in it ! What s harm, then ? What 
 does the word mean to you ? Nothing ? Is there 
 no harm in hurting me ? " 
 
THE R ALSTONS. 229 
 
 "But Hester, love " 
 
 "And as though you did not know it as though 
 you had not turned white when you saw me at the 
 door there, looking at you ! If there were no harm, 
 you needn t have been afraid of me. You d have 
 smiled instead of getting pale ; you d have held 
 her hand still, instead of dropping it, and you d 
 have kissed it again, to show me how little it 
 meant. No harm, indeed ! " 
 
 "Your face was enough to scare any one, sweet 
 heart. I thought you were ill and were going to 
 faint." 
 
 He spoke softly now, in his golden voice, and 
 threw more persuasion into the thin excuse than 
 its words held. 
 
 "Don t don t!" she cried. "You re tearing 
 love to pieces with every word you say if you 
 know what you re saying ! I tell you I ve seen, 
 and I know ! This is the end not the beginning. 
 I saw it beginning long ago last winter, when 
 she sat to you day after day, and I lay in my cor 
 ner and watched you watching her, and your eyes 
 lighting up, and that smile of yours that was only 
 for me " 
 
 " But I was painting her portrait I had to 
 look at her " 
 
 "Not like that ! Oh, no, not like that! There s 
 no reason, there never was any reason, why you 
 should look at any woman like that as you ve 
 
230 THE RALSTONS. 
 
 looked at me. What a fool I was to let it go on, 
 to trust myself, to believe that I could be the only 
 woman in the world for you ! And then, the other 
 day, when you sang to her before all those people ; 
 do you remember what you once promised me ? 
 Do you remember at all that you swore to me 
 by all you held sacred that you d never, never 
 sing, unless I w^re there to hear you ? How you 
 told me that your voice was mine, and only for me, 
 and for no one else, because that at least you could 
 keep for me, though you couldn t keep your art 
 and make that all mine, too ? And then you sang 
 to her I know, for they told me you sang my 
 song, the one I loved, from Lohengrin ! Why did 
 you do that ? " 
 
 "Why I told you the other day we talked of 
 it, don t you remember ? Why do you go back to 
 it now, dear ? " 
 
 "Because it s part of it all," she cried, passion 
 ately. " Because it was only one of so many 
 things that have all led up to this that you ve done 
 now. I told you how I hated her, the other day, 
 and I made you say that you hated her, too, though 
 you didn t want to say it. But you did, and you 
 meant it for a little minute just while it lasted. 
 But you can t hate her when she s here you 
 can t because you love her, and one can t hate and 
 love at the same time, though I do but that s dif 
 ferent. You love her, Walter ! You love her 
 you love her " 
 
THE RALSTONS. 231 
 
 " You re beside yourself, darling," said Crowdie, 
 softly. " Don t talk like this ! Be reasonable ! 
 Listen to ine, sweet! " 
 
 He knelt down beside her as she threw herself 
 into a low chair, and he tried to take her hands. 
 But she drew them away, wringing them as though 
 to shake something from her fingers, and turning 
 her face from him, as she clasped the back of the 
 chair on the opposite side. 
 
 " No, no ! " she cried, quivering all over. " I m 
 not mad. I know what I m saying God knows, 
 I wish I didn t." 
 
 Her voice sank to a whisper, and her head fell 
 against her hands. Crowdie laid one of his upon 
 her arm, and she quivered again, like a nervous 
 thoroughbred. Crowdie s own voice was full of 
 soft pleading as he spoke to her. 
 
 " My sweet my precious ! Listen to me, love ; 
 don t think I don t love you, not even for one in 
 stant, nor that I ever loved you even a little less. 
 Hester, look at me, darling don t turn your face 
 away as though you were always going to be angry 
 it s all a wretched mistake, dear ! Won t you try 
 and believe me ? " 
 
 But Hester would not turn to him. 
 
 " What has she got that I haven t ? " she asked, 
 in a low monotonous tone, as though speaking to 
 herself. 
 
 "Nothing, beloved not half of all you have, 
 not a quarter nor a hundredth part 
 
232 THE RALSTONS. 
 
 Yes she s more beautiful, I suppose," con 
 tinued Hester, speaking into the chair as she buried 
 her face. " But surely that s all oh, what is it ? 
 What else is it that she has, and that I haven t, 
 and that you love in her ? " 
 
 " But I don t love her I don t care for her 
 I don t even like her I hate her since she s come 
 between you and me, dear." 
 
 "No you love her. I ve seen it in your eyes 
 you can t hide it in your eyes. You do ! You 
 love her!" she cried, suddenly raising her face 
 and turning upon him for a moment, then looking 
 away again almost instantly. " Oh, what has she 
 got that I haven t? What s her secret oh, what 
 is it?" 
 
 Crowdie bent over her shoulder and kissed the 
 stuff of her frock softly. 
 
 "Darling! Don t make so much of so very 
 little ! " he whispered, close to her ear. " I tell 
 you I love you, sweet you must believe me 
 you shall believe me ! I ll kiss you till you do." 
 
 " No ! " she exclaimed, almost fiercely. " You 
 shan t kiss me ! " 
 
 And she rose with a spring, and left him kneel 
 ing beside the empty chair. He struggled to his 
 feet, cut by the ridicule of his own attitude. But 
 he could not move easily and swiftly as she could, 
 being badly made. She stood back, looking at 
 him over the chair, and her eyes flashed angrily. 
 He moved towards her, but she drew further back. 
 
THE R ALSTONS. 233 
 
 " Don t come near me ! " she cried. " I won t 
 let you touch me ! " 
 
 " Hester ! " His voice trembled as he uttered 
 her name. 
 
 " No I know what you can do with your 
 voice! I don t believe you any longer you ve 
 spoken to her just like that you ve called her 
 Katharine, just as you call me Hester ! Oh no, 
 no! It s all false it doesn t ring true any more. 
 Go I don t want to see you I don t want to 
 know you re here " 
 
 But still he tried to get nearer to her with 
 pleading eyes that were beginning to light up as 
 he moved, making his feet slide upon the carpet, 
 rather than walking. 
 
 " Don t ! " she cried. " Don t come near me ! 
 If you touch me I ll kill you ! " 
 
 Her hands went out to resist him, and her low, 
 passionate cry of warning vibrated in the little 
 room. Crowdie was startled, even then, and he 
 paused, checked as though cold water had been 
 thrown in his face. Then, very much discomfited, 
 he turned and, thrusting his hands into the pockets 
 of his jacket, began to walk up and down, passing 
 and repassing her as she stood back against the 
 fireplace. Her eyes followed him fiercely, and 
 she breathed audibly with a quick, sob-like breath, 
 with parted lips, between her teeth. 
 
 " I don t know what to say to you," he said, in 
 
234 THE RALSTONS. 
 
 a tone of a man who is at his wit s end and is 
 debating with himself. 
 
 " Say nothing go what could you say ? " 
 
 "I could say a great many things," he answered, 
 growing calm again in the attempt to argue the 
 case. "In the first place, it s all a piece of the 
 most extraordinary exaggeration on your part 
 the whole thing pretending that a man can t 
 kiss a girl s glove without being in love with her ! 
 As though there had been any secret about it ! 
 Why, the door was wide open of course you 
 might have come in at any moment, just as you 
 did. And then the way you talk ! You couldn t 
 be more angry if I d run away with the girl. 
 Besides she can t abide me. I only did it to 
 tease her, and she didn t like it a bit upon my 
 word, you re making a crime out of the merest 
 chaff. It s not like you to be so unreasonable." 
 
 He stopped in his walk and stood opposite to 
 her, near the chair in which she had sat. 
 
 "I m not unreasonable," she answered. "And 
 you know I m not. You know what you meant " 
 
 " I meant nothing ! " cried Crowdie, with sudden 
 energy. " You ve got an absolutely wrong idea of 
 the whole thing from beginning to end. You began 
 by saying that I stared at her last winter, when I 
 was painting her. Of course I did. Do you 
 expect me to turn my back on my sitter, and im 
 agine a face I can t see ? It s perfectly absurd. I 
 
THE RALSTONS. 235 
 
 looked at her, and stared at her, just as you ve 
 seen me stare at Mrs. Brett, who s young and 
 quite as handsome as your cousin, and at Mrs. 
 Trehearne, who s old and hideous. You re out of 
 your mind, I tell you ! You re ill, or something ! 
 How in the world am I to paint people if I don t 
 look at them ? As for having sung the other 
 night, I couldn t help it. It was aunt Maggie s 
 fault, and Katharine told me not to, when she 
 heard I d made a promise " 
 
 " I know the little snake ! " exclaimed Hester. 
 "She knew well enough that was the best way " 
 
 " She didn t know anything of the kind. She 
 spoke perfectly naturally, and merely didn t want 
 me to displease you " 
 
 " Then why did you do it ? " asked Hester, 
 fiercely. "It wasn t to delight poor dear old 
 mamma, nor to charm four or five men, most of 
 whom you hate was it ? Then it was for Kath 
 arine, and for no one else " 
 
 "It was not for Katharine," answered Crowdie, 
 with emphasis. " It wasn t for any one of them. 
 I sang to please myself, because I didn t choose 
 to have them laugh at me, as though I were a boy 
 out of school " 
 
 "You mean that you didn t choose to let them 
 think that you cared enough for me to give such a 
 promise to keep your voice for me, instead of 
 singing about in other people s houses like a mere 
 
236 THE RALSTONS. 
 
 amateur, who pays for his supper with a song. 
 You were afraid they d laugh at you if you said 
 you cared for me, and for what I d asked of you 
 and you were really afraid, because you didn t 
 really care. Oh, I know now T see it all, and I 
 know ! You can t deceive me any longer." 
 
 "I tell you, you re utterly and entirely mis 
 taken!" cried Crowdie, angrily. "You re making 
 a mountain out of a mole hill. You re losing your 
 temper over it, and working yourself into a passion, 
 till you don t know what s true and what isn t. 
 It s madness in you, and it isn t fair to me. When 
 have I ever looked at another woman " 
 
 "It had to begin some time so it s begun now 
 in the worst way it could begin, with Katharine 
 Lauderdale ! " 
 
 "I hate Katharine Lauderdale her and the 
 sound of her name ! How often must I say it 
 before you ll believe me ? " 
 
 "Oh saying it won t make it true! Do you 
 think I didn t see your face just now ? " 
 
 "I don t know what you thought you saw but 
 I know what there was to be seen, and if you 
 weren t beside yourself with jealousy you wouldn t 
 have thought twice about it. I never knew what 
 jealousy meant before " 
 
 " And you don t now. I m not jealous of her I 
 hate her. I despise her for trying to steal you from 
 me, but since she s got you since you love her 
 
THE EALSTONS. 237 
 
 so that you ll lie for her, and be a coward for her, 
 and be angry for her just as i|; suits you oh 
 no, indeed ! I m not jealous of Katharine. That s 
 quite another thing. Jealous ! And you reproach 
 me, and cast it in my teeth, because I say I hate 
 her, when she s taken everything I cared for in 
 this earth, everything I had ! Ah I could kill 
 her ! But I m not jealous. One must care for 
 oneself to be jealous; one must be wounded, hurt, 
 insulted, to be jealous ! Do you think I want you, 
 if you don t want me ? How little you ve ever 
 understood me ! " 
 
 She drew herself up, leaning back against the 
 shelf of the mantelpiece, and her lips curled scorn 
 fully, though they trembled a little, and she fixed 
 her eyes upon his face with a strange, frightened 
 fierceness, like that of a delicate wild animal 
 driven to bay, but determined to resist. Crowdie 
 met her glance steadily now, leaning with both 
 hands upon the back of the chair between them 
 and bending his body a little, in the attitude of a 
 man who means to speak very earnestly. 
 
 "I don t think any one could understand you 
 now," he began, in a quiet, but determined tone. 
 " I can t, I confess. But I know you re not your 
 self, and you don t know what you re saying. Pm 
 not going to argue as to whether you re jealous of 
 Katharine Lauderdale, or not. It s too absurd ! 
 You ve no right to be, at all events " 
 
238 THE EALSTONS. 
 
 " No right ! " cried Hester, with a half hysterical 
 laugh. " If ever a woman had a right to be jeal 
 ous of another " 
 
 "No, you ve not not the shadow of a right. 
 You know how I ve loved you for years well 
 you know how, and what sort of love there s been 
 between us. You re niad to think that anything 
 I ve done " 
 
 " That s all your argument that I m mad ! 
 You say it again and again, as though it com 
 forted you ! Yes I am mad in one way I m 
 mad not to hate you ten thousand times more than 
 I do and I do hate you for what you ve done ! 
 You ve torn up my heart by the roots and thrown 
 it to that wretched girl you ve twisted, and 
 wrenched, and broken everything that was tender 
 in me, everything that was for you, and was yours 
 and it won t grow again ! You ve taken every 
 thing have I ever refused you anything? 
 You ve taken it all, and I thought that you d 
 never had it before, and that for its sake you loved 
 me, because I loved you so that you d wear me 
 hi your heart, and carry me in your hands, and 
 love me all your life and for that girl, that 
 creature with her grey eyes oh, what is it ? 
 What has she got that I haven t, and that makes 
 you love her what ? What ? " 
 
 She covered her eyes with a desperate gesture, 
 and her voice almost broke as she repeated the 
 
THE RALSTONS. 239 
 
 last word. Below her hand her lips trembled, 
 and Crowdie watched them. Then before she 
 looked at him again, he had passed the chair and 
 was trying to take her in his arms. For an instant 
 she struggled with him, holding her face back 
 from him and thrusting him away. But his small 
 white hands had more strength in them than hers. 
 
 " Walter don t ! " she cried, pushing against 
 him with all her might. " Don t ! Don t ! " she 
 repeated. 
 
 But in spite of her, he got near to her face, and 
 kissed her on the cheek. She started violently, 
 and then wrenched herself free. 
 
 " How dare you ? " she exclaimed, angrily, re 
 treating half across the room with the rush of 
 the effort she had made. 
 
 Crowdie laughed, not naturally, and not at all 
 musically. There was a curious hoarseness in 
 the tone, apd his eyes glittered. 
 
 " And how dare you laugh at me ? " she asked, 
 moving still further back, towards the door, as he 
 advanced. "Have you no heart, no feeling no 
 sense ? Can t you understand how it hurts when 
 you touch me ? " 
 
 "I don t want to understand anything so 
 foolish," answered Crowdie, suddenly growing 
 coldly angry again. "If you re afraid of me 
 well, I won t go near you until you see how silly 
 you are. There s no other word it s silly." 
 
240 THE RALSTONS. 
 
 " Silly! When it s all my life." Her voice 
 shook. "Oh, Walter, Walter! You re breaking 
 my heart ! " 
 
 A passionate sob struggled with the words, and 
 she fell into a chair by the door, covering her face 
 with her hands again. Then came another sob, 
 and the convulsion of her strength as she tried 
 to choke it down, and it broke the barrier and 
 burst out with a wild storm of scalding tears. 
 
 Crowdie was a very sensitively organized man 
 in one direction, but singularly hard to move in 
 another. So long as the passions of others 
 appealed to his own, the response was ready and 
 impulsive. But in him mere sympathy was not 
 easily roused. Once freed from self, his faculties 
 were critical, comparative, quick to seek causes 
 and explain their connection with effects. Hester s 
 words wakened his love, roused his anger, called 
 out his powers of opposition, and touched him to 
 the quick by turns ; but her tears said nothing 
 to him at first, except that she was suffering. 
 He was only with her in happiness, never in un- 
 happiness. He stood still for a moment watching 
 her, and asking himself with considerable calmness 
 what was best to be done. 
 
 It is not always easy to judge and decide exactly 
 how far a woman could control herself if she 
 thought it wise to do so, and for that reason the 
 genuineness of her tears often seems doubtful. 
 
THE BALSTONS. 241 
 
 It would be as fair to doubt that a tortured man 
 suffers if he does not groan in his agony, or because 
 he does. 
 
 But although at that moment he felt no sym 
 pathy with her, though he loved her in his own 
 way, yet his instinct and experience of women 
 told him that with the tears there must come a 
 change of mood. He went slowly to her side, and 
 though she did not look up he knew that she felt 
 his presence, and would not drive him from her 
 again just then. He bent over her, laying his arm 
 upon her shoulders, and looking at the hands that 
 covered her eyes. He did not speak at once, but 
 waited for her to look up. She was sobbing as 
 though her heart would realty break. At last, 
 between the sobs, words began to come at last. 
 
 " Oh, Walter, Walter ! " she wailed, repeating 
 his name. 
 
 "Yes sweetheart look at me, dear," he an 
 swered, pressing her to him. 
 
 Her head rested against him as she sobbed. 
 Then one hand left her eyes and sought his hand, 
 but was instantly withdrawn again. He found it 
 and brought it, resisting but a little, to his lips. 
 In all such actions he had the gentleness, almost 
 boyish, which some women love so well, and 
 which is so kingly in the very strong for they 
 say that it is sweeter to be caressed by the hand 
 that could kill, than by one that at its worst and 
 strongest could only scratch. 
 
 VOL. II. 16 
 
242 THE E ALSTONS. 
 
 Presently she uncovered her eyes and looked up 
 to his face, and the sobbing almost stopped. Her 
 cheeks were flushed through their whiteness and 
 were wet, and her eyes were dark and shadowy, but 
 the light in them was not hard. The tide of anger 
 had ebbed as the tears flowed, and its wave was 
 far off. 
 
 "Tell me you really love me, dear," she said, 
 still tearfully. 
 
 " Ah, sweet ! You know I do I love you so ! 
 Is that right ? Doesn t it ring true now ? " He 
 laughed softly, looking into her face. " When did 
 I ever sing false ? " 
 
 A shade of returning annoyance passed over 
 her features, as her. brow contracted at the allusion 
 to his singing, and though she still allowed her 
 head to rest against his side, her face was turned 
 away once more. 
 
 "Don t speak of singing, dear," she said, trying 
 to smile, though he could not see whether she did 
 or not. 
 
 "No, darling forgive me. I ll never speak of 
 it again. I ll never sing again as long as I live, if 
 you don t want me to." 
 
 " I didn t mean that," she answered. " It s only 
 now till I forget. And, Walter, dear I don t 
 want you to promise it any more I d rather not, 
 really." 
 
 Still she turned away, but he bent over, drawing 
 
THE EALSTONS. , 243 
 
 her closer to him, and he lifted her face with his 
 hand under her chin. The eyelids drooped as she 
 suffered her head to fall back over his arm, and 
 she shut out the sight of his eyes from her own. 
 He murmured soft words in his low voice, in 
 golden tones. 
 
 " Darling precious sweet one ! " 
 And he repeated the words and others, as her 
 features softened, and her parted lips smiled at his. 
 And still he pressed her to him, and spoke to her, 
 and looked at her with burning eyes. So they 
 might have been reconciled then and there, had 
 Fate willed it. But Fate was there with her 
 little creeping hand full of the tiny mischief that 
 decides between life and death when no one knows. 
 Fate willed that at that moment Crowdie should 
 be irritated by something in his throat. Just as 
 he was speaking so softly, so sweetly that the 
 exquisite sound almost lulled her to sleep, while 
 the passionate tears still wet her cheek, just as 
 his face was near hers, he felt it coming, insignifi 
 cant in itself, ridiculous by reason of the moment 
 at which it came, yet irresistible in its littleness. 
 He struggled against it, and grew conscious of 
 what he was saying, and his voice lost its passion 
 ate tenderness. He strove to fight it down, that 
 horrible little tickling spasm just in the vocal 
 chords, for he knew how much it might mean both 
 to her and to him, that her forgiving mood should 
 
244 THE RALSTONS. 
 
 carry them both to the kiss of peace. But Fate 
 was there, irresistible and little, as surely as though 
 she had stalked gigantic, sword in hand, through 
 the door, to smite them both. In the midst of 
 the very sweetest word of all, it came the word 
 rang false, he turned his face away and coughed to 
 clear his throat. But the false note had rung. 
 
 Hester sprang to her feet, and thrust him from 
 her. To her it had all been false, the words, the 
 tone, the caresses. How could a man in the 
 earnestness of passion, midway in love s eloquence, 
 wish to stop and cough ? She did not think 
 nor. reason, as she turned upon him in the anguish 
 of her disappointment. 
 
 "How could I believe you even for a mo 
 ment ? " she cried, standing back from him. " Oh, 
 what an actor you are ! " 
 
 But he had not been acting, save that he had 
 done what his instinct had at first told him was 
 wisest, in beginning to speak to her when she had 
 burst into tears. With the first word, the first 
 caress, with the touch of her, and the sweet, 
 unscented, living air of her, the passion that had 
 truly ruled his faultful life for years took hold of 
 him with strength and main, and rang the leading 
 changes of his being. And then she broke it 
 short. 
 
 As he stood up before her, he shook with emo 
 tion stronger than hers, such as women rarely feel, 
 
THE RALSTONS. 245 
 
 and such as even strong men dread. Unconsciously 
 he held out his hands towards her and uttered a half 
 articulate cry, trying once more to catch her in 
 his arms. 
 
 " Kiss me love me oh, Hester ! " 
 
 But he met her angry eyes, for she had lost the 
 hand of reality in the labyrinth of her own imag 
 inings and disappointments and jealousies, and she 
 knew no longer the good from the evil, nor the 
 truth from the acted lie. 
 
 "No you re acting," she answered, cruelly 
 trying to be as cruel as the hurt she felt. 
 
 And she stared hardly at him. But even, as 
 she looked, a deep, purple flush rose in his white 
 cheeks, and overspread his face, even to his fore 
 head, and darkened all his features. And his eyes 
 turned upwards in their sockets, as he fell forward 
 against her, with wet, twisted lips and limp limbs 
 a hideous sight for woman or man to look upon. 
 
 She uttered a low, broken cry as she caught him 
 in her arms, and he dragged her down to the floor 
 by his weight. There he lay, almost black in the 
 face, contorted and stiffened, yet not quite motion 
 less, but far more repulsive by the spasmodic and 
 writhing motion of his body than if he had lain 
 stiff and stark as a dead body. 
 
 She had seen him thus once before now, on a 
 winter s night, upstairs in the studio. She did not 
 know that it was epilepsy. She knelt beside him, 
 
246 THE EALSTONS. 
 
 horror-struck, now, for a few moments. It seemed 
 worse in the evening glow than it had looked to 
 her before, under the soft, artificial light in the 
 great room. 
 
 She only hesitated a few seconds. Then she got 
 a cushion and thrust it under his head, using all 
 her strength to lift him a little with one arm as 
 she did so. But she knew by experience that the 
 unconsciousness would last a long time, and she 
 was glad that it had come at once. On the first 
 occasion the convulsion that preceded it had been 
 horrible. Her own face was drawn with the an 
 guish of intense sympathy, and she felt all the 
 horror of her last cruel words still ringing in 
 her ears. 
 
 She did not rise from her knees, but bent over 
 him, and looked at him, seeing himself, as she 
 dreamed him, through the mask of his hideous 
 face. She touched his hands, and tried to draw 
 them out of their contortion, but the inturned 
 thumbs and stiffened joints were too rigid for her 
 to move. But she lifted his body again, straining 
 her strength till she thought his weight must tear 
 the slight sinews of her arms at the elbow, and 
 she tried to turn his head to a comfortable position 
 on the silken pillow, and stroked his silk-fine hair 
 with gentle hands. As she did her best for him, 
 her throat was parched, and she felt her dry lips 
 cleaving to her teeth, and the sight of her eyes was 
 
THE R ALSTONS. 247 
 
 almost failing, being burned out with horror. But 
 no tears canie to put out the fire. 
 
 At last she rose to her feet, steadying herself 
 against the chair in which she had last sat, for slie 
 was dizzy with pain and with bending down. She 
 gazed at him an instant ; then turned and went 
 and closed the open windows, and pulled down 
 the shades and drew the thick curtains together. 
 After that, groping, she found matches and lit 
 one candle, and set it so that the light should 
 not fall upon his eyes, if by any chance their 
 conscious sight returned. Then she looked at him 
 once more and left the room, softly closing the 
 door behind her, and turning the key with infinite 
 pains, lest any servant in the house should hear 
 the sound. She took the key with her and went 
 upstairs. 
 
CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 KATHARINE was sincerely distressed by the re 
 sult of her interview with Hester, and she walked 
 slowly homeward, thinking it all over and asking 
 herself whether she had left undone anything 
 which she ought to have done. But as she thought, 
 it was always the last scene which rose before her 
 eyes, and she saw distinctly before her Hester s 
 white face staring at her through the open door 
 way. There was a great satisfaction in feeling 
 sure that she had been wholly innocent in the 
 matter of Crowdie s kissing her hand; yet felt 
 that the resentment Hester had shown on re-enter 
 ing the room had not been anything different in its 
 essential nature from the coldness she had already 
 shown when Katharine had spoken of renewing 
 their friendship. But the young girl could not 
 understand either, though the supposition that 
 Hester must be jealous of her thrust itself upon 
 her forcibly. 
 
 Ralston helped her. He had asked for her at 
 
 the house in Clinton Place, and having been told 
 
 that she was . still out, he had hung about the 
 
 neighbourhood in the hope of meeting her, and 
 
 248 
 
THE RALSTONS. 249 
 
 had been at last rewarded by seeing her coming 
 towards him from the other side of Fifth Avenue. 
 In a moment they met. 
 
 " Oh, I m so glad to see you, Jack, dear ! " she 
 cried as she took his hand. " I ve got such lots to 
 tell you!" 
 
 " So have I," answered Kalston. " Where shall 
 we go ? Should you like to walk ? " 
 
 Yes in some quiet place, where we can talk, 
 and not meet people, and not be run over too 
 often." 
 
 " All right," answered John. " Let s go west. 
 There are lots of quiet streets on that side, and it s 
 awfully respectable. The worst that can happen 
 to us will be to meet Teddy Van De Water looking 
 after his tenants, or Russell Vanbrugh going to 
 administer consolation to the relations of his 
 favourite criminal. Something s happened, Kath 
 arine," he added suddenly, as they turned west 
 ward, and the strong evening light illuminated her 
 features through her veil. " I can see it in your 
 face." 
 
 "Yes," answered Katharine. "I want to tell 
 you. I ve had such a time with Hester! You 
 don t know ! " 
 
 "Tell me all about it." 
 
 They walked along, and Katharine told her story 
 with all the details she could remember, doing her 
 best to make clear to him what was by no means 
 
250 THE EALSTONS. 
 
 clear to herself. When she had finished, she 
 looked at John interrogatively. 
 
 " That fellow Crowdie s a brute ! " he exclaimed, 
 with energy. 
 
 " Well I don t like him, you know. But 
 was it so very bad? Tell me, Jack you re my 
 natural protector." She laughed happily. "It s 
 your business to tell me what s right and what s 
 wrong. Was it so very bad of him to kiss my 
 glove after he d buttoned it ? I almost boxed his 
 ears at the time I was so angry ! But I want to 
 be fair. Was it exactly wrong? I wish you d 
 tell me." 
 
 " Wrong ? No ; it wasn t exactly wrong." Eals- 
 ton paused thoughtfully. " Kissing women s hands 
 is one of those relative things," he continued. 
 " It s right in one part of the world, it s indifferent 
 in another, and it s positively the wrong thing to 
 do somewhere else whatever it s meant to mean. 
 We don t do .that sort of thing much over here. 
 As he did it, I suppose it was simply the wrong 
 thing to do. At least, I want to suppose so, but I 
 can t. The man s half in love with you, you 
 know." 
 
 "Oh, nonsense, Jack! It s only because we 
 dislike him so. If ever a man was in love with 
 his wife, he is." 
 
 "Yes, I know," answered Ralston, in the same 
 thoughtful tone. "That s quite true. But it 
 
THE R ALSTONS. 251 
 
 doesn t prevent him from being half in love with 
 lots of other women at the same time. It s not 
 the same thing. Oh, yes ! he loves Hester. She s 
 quite mad about him, of course. We all know 
 that, in the family. But Crowdie s peculiar and 
 it s not a nice peculiarity, either. One sees it in 
 his manner somehow, and in his eyes. I can t 
 exactly explain it to you. He admires every 
 woman who s beautiful, and it s a little more than 
 admiration. He has a way with him which we 
 men don t like. And when he does such things as 
 he did to-day there s always a suggestion of some 
 thing disagreeable in his way of doing them, so 
 that if they re not positively wrong, they re not 
 positively innocent. They re on the ragged edge 
 between the two, as Frank Miner says." 
 
 " I think it s more in the way he looks at one 
 than in anything else," said Katharine. " He has 
 such a horrid mouth ! But it s absurd to say that 
 he s in love with me, Jack." 
 
 " Oh, no, it s not ! That night at aunt Maggie s, 
 when he sang, you know it was for you and 
 nobody else. What a queer evening that was, by 
 the way ! There were five of us men there, all in 
 love with you in one way or another." 
 
 " Jack ! It s positively ridiculous ! The idea 
 of such a thing!" 
 
 " Not at all. There was Ham, in the first place. 
 You admit that he s one, don t you ? " 
 
252 THE EALSTONS. 
 
 " I suppose I must, since he proposed/ answered 
 Katharine, reluctantly, and turning her face away. 
 
 "And you re not going to deny Archie Wing- 
 field?" Ralston tried to see her eyes. "I m sure 
 he s offered himself." 
 
 Katharine said nothing, but John saw through 
 her veil and was sure that a little colour rose in 
 her face. 
 
 "Of course!" he said. "That s two of them. 
 And Crowdie s three. I count him. And you 
 mustn t forget me. I m what they call in love 
 with you, I suppose. That s four." 
 
 Katharine smiled, and glanced at him, looking 
 away again immediately. 
 
 "At least," she said, "you ll leave me dear old 
 Mr. Griggs " 
 
 "Griggs!" laughed Ealston. "He s the worst 
 of the lot. He s madly, fearfully, desperately, 
 fantastically in love with you." 
 
 " Jack ! What do you meau ? " Katharine 
 laughed, but her face expressed genuine surprise. 
 " Not that I should mind," she added. " Dear old 
 man ! I m so fond of him ! " 
 
 " Well he returns your fondness with interest. 
 He makes no secret of it to anybody, because he s 
 old, or says he is, but he s old like an old wolf. 
 I like him, too. He goes about saying that you re 
 his ideal of beauty and cleverness and soul and 
 good taste. Oh, Griggs ! " He laughed again. 
 
THE RALSTONS. 253 
 
 " He s quite off his head about you ! He ll put 
 you into one of his books if you re not careful. 
 I should like to see your father s expression if 
 he did." 
 
 "Don t be a goose, Jack ! " suggested Katharine, 
 by way of good advice. " Of course, I understand 
 what a dear old silly idiot you are, you know. 
 But don t talk such nonsense to other people. 
 They ll laugh at you." 
 
 "No, I m not going to. I let Griggs do the 
 talking, and people laugh at him. But there s 
 nothing silly in it, as a matter of fact. Everybody 
 loves you except some of the people who should. 
 And I must say, with the exception of Crowdie, 
 we were a very presentable lot the other night. 
 And even Crowdie well, he s a celebrity, if he s 
 nothing else, and that counts for something with 
 some women. I say, Katharine are you and 
 Hester going to quarrel for the rest of your 
 lives ? " 
 
 "I m afraid so, at least, we shan t quarrel 
 exactly. But we can never be just as we were." 
 
 " I m rather glad," said Kalston. " I never be 
 lieved much in that friendship between you two." 
 
 " Oh, Jack ! We loved each other so dearly ! 
 And it was so nice we told each other every 
 thing, you know." 
 
 " Yes but you ve outgrown each other." 
 
 Katharine looked at him quickly, in surprise. 
 
254 THE R ALSTONS. 
 
 "That s exactly what Hester said to-day," she 
 answered. " It seemed to me to be such nonsense." 
 
 " Well you have, and she s quite right if she 
 says so. That sort of school-girlish friendship 
 doesn t amount to anything when you begin to 
 grow up. I ve seen lots of them in society. They 
 always break up as soon as one of the two marries 
 and% has other things to think about. Besides, 
 between you and Hester, there s Crowdie. It s 
 perfectly clear from what you ve told me that 
 she s jealous. If you re not careful she ll try 
 and do you some mischief or other. She s jeal 
 ous, and she has a streak of cruelty in her. She ll 
 make you suffer somehow trust the ingenuity of 
 a woman like that ! She d burn her most intimate 
 friend at a slow fire for Crowdie any day." 
 
 "Well isn t she right?" asked Katharine. 
 "I would, for you, I m sure if it would do you 
 any good." 
 
 " It wouldn t," laughed Ralston. " Those cases 
 don t arise nowadays. Sometimes one wishes they 
 might. We ve all got a lot of cruelty and romance 
 in us somewhere. We all believe in the immuta 
 bility of the affections, more or less." 
 
 " Don t laugh, Jack ! " said Katharine. " Love 
 has nothing to do with friendship. Besides, you 
 and I aren t like other people. We re always 
 going to care just as we always have. We re 
 faithful people, you and I." 
 
:RSH i r 
 
 \ 
 
 R ALSTONS. 
 
 " Yes. I think we are." He spoke quietly, as 
 though from a long and familiar conviction. 
 
 A short silence followed, and they walked along 
 side by side in the soft evening air, so close that 
 their elbows touched, as they kept step together 
 a mode of courtship not usually practised by 
 their kind, and which they would have been 
 ashamed of in a more frequented quarter of the 
 city. They would probably have noticed it unfa 
 vourably in another couple, and would have set 
 the pair down as a dry-goods clerk and a shop 
 girl. But when the stiff and proud Four Hun 
 dred are very much in love, and when they are 
 quite sure that none of the remaining Three Hun 
 dred and Ninety-eight are looking, they behave pre 
 cisely like human beings, which is really to their 
 credit, though they would be so much ashamed 
 to have it generally known. 
 
 "But then, we re married, you know," said 
 Katharine, as though she had solved a difficult 
 problem. 
 
 Ralston glanced at the face he loved and smiled 
 happily. 
 
 "There s a good deal besides that," he said. 
 " There are a great many things that tie us 
 together. You ve made a man of me. That s 
 one thing. But for you, I don t know where I 
 should have been now in a bad way, I fancy." 
 
 "No, you wouldn t," protested Katharine. "A 
 
256 THE RALSTONS. 
 
 man who can do the things you ve done doesn t 
 come to grief." 
 
 "It isn t anything I ve done," Ralston answered. 
 "It s what you ve made me feel. If I ve done 
 anything at all, it s been for your sake. You 
 know that as well as I do. And if there were 
 big things to be done, it would be the same." 
 
 "You ve done the biggest thing that any man 
 can do. You don t need to have me tell you that." 
 
 " Oh about reforming my ways, you mean ? " 
 He affected to laugh. "That wasn t anything. 
 You made it nice and easy." 
 
 "Especially when I didn t believe in you, and 
 treated you like a brute," said Katharine, with 
 an expression of pain at the recollection. " Don t 
 talk about it, Jack. I ve never forgiven myself 
 I never shall." 
 
 " But it was so nice when it was over ! " This 
 time the little laugh was genuine. "I d go through 
 it all again, just to see your face when you found 
 out that you d been mistaken and afterwards, 
 when we sat behind the piano at the Van De 
 Waters do you remember ? Oh, yes ! I d like 
 to have it all over again." 
 
 "Jack you re an angel, dear! But don t talk 
 about that night. I suppose, though, that those 
 things have helped to bind us together and make 
 us more each other s. Yes of course they have. 
 And then we re such good friends, you know. 
 
THE RALSTONS. 257 
 
 Doesn t that make a difference ? I m sure there 
 are people who care very much, but who are never 
 good friends. Look at papa and my mother. 
 They re like that. They re not at all good 
 friends. They never tell each other anything if 
 they can help it. But they care all the same. 
 We could never be like that together, could 
 we? Jack where does friendship end and love 
 begin?" 
 
 " What a beautiful question ! " exclaimed Kals- 
 ton, very much amused. "Of all the impossible 
 ones to answer ! " 
 
 "I know it is. I ve often wondered about it. 
 You know, I can t at all remember when I began 
 to care for you in this way. Can you ? It must 
 have been ever so long ago, before we ever said 
 anything because, when we did, it seemed quite 
 natural, you know. And it always grows. It 
 goes on growing like a thing that s planted in 
 good earth and that has lots of life in it and is 
 going to last forever. But it really does grow. 
 I know that I m ever so much more glad to see 
 you when we meet now than I was a month ago. 
 If it goes on like this I don t know where it s 
 going to end. Hester and her husband won t be 
 anywhere, compared with us, will they ? " 
 
 " They re not, as it is. They re quite different. 
 When they re old, they ll quarrel if not sooner." 
 
 "Oh, Jack I don t Relieve it s quite fair to 
 say that ! " 
 
 VOL. II. 17 
 
258 THE RALSTONS. 
 
 " Well wait and see. We re warranted to 
 wear, you and I. They re not. There s no stay 
 ing power in that sort of thing. Not but what 
 they re in earnest. Even Crowdie is, though he s 
 half in love with you, at the same time." 
 
 "I wish you wouldn t keep saying that," said 
 Katharine. "It makes me feel so uncomfortable 
 when we meet. Besides, it s absurd, as I told you. 
 A man can t be madly in love with his wife and 
 care for any one else at the same time." 
 
 "That depends on the man and the way of 
 caring," answered Ralston. "Crowdie s a brute. 
 I hate him. The only thing I can t understand 
 about Griggs is his liking for the man. It s 
 incomprehensible to me." 
 
 "I don t think Mr. Griggs really likes him," 
 said Katharine. " There s a mystery about it. 
 But I m almost sure he doesn t really like him. I 
 believe he thinks he s responsible for Crowdie in 
 some way. They knew each other long ago." 
 
 "Nobody knows much about Crowdie s antece 
 dents, anyway. I never could understand the 
 match." 
 
 "Oh it s easily understood. They fell in love 
 with each other. Of course he would have been 
 delighted to marry her, if he hadn t cared a straw 
 for her, for the sake of the social position and all 
 that. Then he had a sister at least, people 
 said so, but nobody ever saw her that I know of 
 
THE R ALSTONS. 259 
 
 somewhere in New Jersey. She didn t come 
 to the wedding, I know, for I was Hester s brides 
 maid. Charlotte and I were the only two." 
 
 " She didn t come to the wedding because she 
 was dead," said Ralston. "That s an awfully good 
 reason." 
 
 " I didn t know. I ve often wondered about her, 
 but I didn t like to ask questions. One doesn t 
 you know, about people who don t turn up. They 
 always are dead, or something and then one feels 
 so uncomfortable." 
 
 "Yes," answered Ralston, as though meditating 
 on the fact. "At all events," he continued, 
 " nobody ever knew much about Crowdie, nor where 
 he came from. So I don t exactly see how Griggs 
 could be responsible for him. But, as you say, 
 there s a mystery about it all so there is about 
 Griggs, for that matter." 
 
 "Oh, no! Mr. Griggs is all right. There s 
 nothing mysterious about him. He was born 
 abroad, that s all, and I believe he was awfully 
 poor as a boy a sort of orphan lying about loose 
 on the world, you know. But he s got a lot of 
 tremendously proper relations in Rhode Island. 
 He goes to see some of them now and then. He s 
 told me." 
 
 "Well it s very queer about Crowdie, any 
 how," said Ralston, thoughtfully. "But there s 
 something I wanted to talk to you about, dear," 
 
260 THE RALSTONS. 
 
 he continued after a little pause. " It s about our 
 marriage certificate. You know we re living in 
 danger of an explosion at any moment. That 
 thing is tucked away somewhere amongst poor 
 uncle Robert s papers. We ve spoken of it once 
 or twice, you know. They re going through every 
 thing, and sooner or later it s sure to turn up. It s 
 just as well to be prepared beforehand. I don t 
 know what will happen if we tell your father now, 
 but he s got to be told, and it s my place to do it." 
 
 "No, Jack," answered Katharine. "It s my 
 place. I made you do it I ve never made up 
 my mind whether it was the wisest thing we 
 could do, or whether it was a piece of egregious 
 folly. Suppose that we had quarrelled after it was 
 done. We should have been bound all our lives 
 by a mere ceremony." 
 
 "But we knew we shouldn t," protested Ralston. 
 
 "Nobody knows anything," said Katharine, 
 wisely. " We know now, because we know each 
 other so much better. But I made you take a 
 tremendous risk, and you didn t want to do it at 
 all " 
 
 " It wasn t on account of the risk " 
 
 "No of course it wasn t. But you re quite 
 right now. That thing may turn up any day. I 
 shall go to papa this very evening and tell him 
 that we re married. , It s the only sensible thing 
 to do." 
 
THE K ALSTONS. 261 
 
 " Indeed, you shan t do that ! " cried Ralston, 
 anxiously. " You know him " 
 
 " Shan t ? " repeated Katharine, looking up into 
 his face and smiling. "I will if I please," she 
 said with a little laugh. 
 
 " Will you ? " asked John, meeting her eyes with 
 an expression of determination, but smiling, too, 
 in spite of himself. 
 
 " Of course ! " answered Katharine, promptly. 
 " Especially as I think it s a matter of duty. Of 
 course I ll do it this very evening ! " 
 
 " Don t ! " said Kalston. " There ll be a row." 
 
 "Not half such a row as if you try to do it," 
 observed Katharine. " You ll have each other by 
 the throat in five minutes." 
 
 "Oh, no, we shan t. We re very good friends 
 now. I don t see why there should be any trouble 
 at all. He wants us to marry. He said so in his 
 letter, and he s taken a sort of paternal air of late, 
 when I come to the house. Besides, haven t you 
 noticed the way in which he turns his back on us 
 when we sit down to talk ? If that doesn t mean 
 consent well, he won t have the trouble of a wed 
 ding, that s all, nor the expense, either. He ought 
 to be glad, if he s logical." 
 
 "I don t think he d mind the expense so much 
 now," said Katharine, with perfect gravity. " I 
 think he s getting used to the idea of spending a 
 little more, now that we re to be so rich. He was 
 
262 THE RALSTONS. 
 
 talking about having a butler, last night. Fancy ! 
 But 1 do wish those administrators, or whatever 
 you call them, would hurry up and give us some 
 thing. We re awfully hard up, my mother and I. 
 We ve had to get such a lot of clothes, and I m 
 frightened to death about it. I m sure the bills 
 will come in before the estate s settled, and then 
 papa will take the roof off, as you always say 
 
 he ll be so angry ! But I don t think he ll make 
 such a fuss about our marriage. 7 
 
 "No that s just what I say. That s why I 
 want to tell him myself." 
 
 " Jack ! " cried Katharine, reproachfully. " You 
 just said there d be a row if I went to him about 
 it." 
 
 " Well I think I can manage him better," 
 said Ralston. "You and he are used to fighting 
 every day as a matter of habit, so that you re sure 
 to go at each other on the smallest provocation. 
 But with him and me, it s been a sort of rare 
 amusement the kind of thing one keeps for 
 Sundays, and we don t like it so much. Besides, 
 since you say that he won t be so angry after all, 
 why shouldn t I ? " 
 
 "Exactly. And I say, why shouldn t I? for 
 the same reason. I shall just say that we got 
 married because we were afraid we should never 
 get his consent, but that since he s given it frankly, 
 
 he did in that letter, we ve agreed to tell." 
 
THE RALSTONS. 263 
 
 " That s just what I should say," answered 
 Hal stem. " Those are the very words I had in my 
 mind. 7 
 
 "Of course they are. Don t we always think 
 alike ? But I want to tell him. I d much rather." 
 
 " So would I much rather. It will end in our 
 going together. That s probably the most sensible 
 thing we can do. There ll be a certain grim sur 
 prise, and then the correct paternal blessing, and 
 the luncheon or dinner, according to the time of 
 day." 
 
 "It will be dinner, if we go home and do it 
 now," said Katharine, thoughtfully. 
 
 " Come on ! Let s go ! " answered Ealston. 
 " There s no time like the present for doing this 
 sort of thing. Where are we ? Oh South Fifth 
 Avenue s over there to the left. That s the 
 shortest way, round that corner and then straight 
 up." 
 
 They turned and walked in the direction he 
 indicated, both silent for a while as they thought 
 of what was before them, and the final telling of 
 the secret they had kept so long. 
 
 "You don t know how glad I shall be when 
 everybody knows," said Katharine after a time, as 
 they paused at a crossing to let a van pass by. 
 
 " Not half so glad as I shall be," answered Rals 
 ton. "But it couldn t be helped. I know it s 
 been hateful to have this secret well, not exactly 
 
264 THE RALSTONS. 
 
 . 
 
 hanging over us, but to have it a part of us all this 
 time. Still I don t see when we could have 
 announced it. There s been one thing after an 
 other to make, it impossible, and somehow we ve 
 got used to it. They say there s nothing like 
 having a secret in common to make two people 
 fall in love with each other. It seems to me it s 
 true." 
 
 We didn t need it, dear," said Katharine, softly, 
 as they began to cross the street. 
 
 " No not exactly." Ralston laughed. " But it 
 hasn t made it any worse, at all events. But what 
 moments we ve had. Do you remember when they 
 began to talk about secret marriages that night ? " 
 
 " Don t I ! " laughed Katharine. " I thought I 
 should have gone through the floor! How well 
 you behaved, Jack ! I expected that you d break 
 out every minute and fall upon poor cousin Ham. 
 But you didn t. As for me, I got scarlet, and I 
 don t often blush, do I ? Dark people don t. Well 
 it s all over now." 
 
 " Not till we ve had our talk out with your 
 father. We can t be quite sure of what will 
 happen till then." 
 
 "No but he can t unmarry us, can he? So 
 what can he do ? He can say that he ll disinherit 
 me. That s the worst he could possibly do, and 
 what difference would it make ? You re going to 
 be one of the rich, rich, rich men, Jack with 
 
THE R ALSTONS. 265 
 
 ever so many millions more than you can possibly 
 spend on onions and honey like the wayward old 
 man of Kilkenny, you know. Besides, papa will 
 not be angry at all. He ll simply dance with 
 delight. I believe he s secretly afraid that we re 
 cheating him, because we never speak of ever 
 announcing our engagement. He thinks we re 
 revenging ourselves now, and each means to marry 
 somebody else, and he s in fits lest he should lose 
 you for a son-in-law. Isn t it fun ? " 
 
 "Yes your beloved father in fits, as you call 
 it and dancing with delight it doesn t lack the 
 comic element. But it looks so simple now, just 
 to go and tell him, and be done with it. Why 
 haven t we done it before ? " 
 
 " Oh we couldn t. It wouldn t have been safe 
 until the will was settled. He was really dread 
 fully nervous all that time. I never saw him in 
 such a state before. It really wouldn t have be,en 
 safe. No this is our first chance. We might 
 have spoken a day or two ago, of course, but not 
 much sooner." 
 
 "No we couldn t," said Ralston. "But I m 
 glad oh, tremendously glad that it s coming at 
 last." 
 
 " And then Jack," said Katharine, with some 
 hesitation, " after we ve spoken, you know what 
 are we going to do ? " 
 
 " You and I ? Why, get married, of course 
 
266 TUE RALSTONS. 
 
 I mean as if we were getting married. There 
 won t be any people nor any cake, nor any gorgeous 
 dress for you poor dear ! But we shall have to 
 pretend, I suppose go off with your mother and 
 my mother, and as many more mothers as we can 
 pick up, to make us perfectly respectable, and then 
 we shall come back married, and choose a house 
 to live in. That s the first thing, you know. My 
 mother will never hear of our living with her, now 
 that there s to be lots of money. She s much too 
 wise for that. Relations-in-law are just bones for 
 husband and wife to fight over. But of course my 
 mother will come very often." 
 
 " And my mother," said Katharine. 
 
 " Yes your mother, too," assented Ralston. 
 " Naturally, they ll both come. So long as they 
 don t live with us, we shan t mind." 
 
 " But you re very fond of your mother, Jack, 
 aren t you ? " asked Katharine. 
 
 " Of course I am. We re more like brother and 
 sister than anything else. You see, we ve always 
 been together so much." 
 
 "And yet you d rather not have her live with 
 us?" 
 
 "Certainly not. And she wouldn t wish to." 
 
 " It s strange," said Katharine, thoughtfully. "I 
 don t think I should mind having my mother with 
 us. She d be such a comfort when you were down 
 town, you know." 
 
 "Yes," answered Ralston, in a doubtful tone. 
 
THE EALSTONS. 267 
 
 " I couldn t take my mother down town to comfort 
 me at Beman s, could I ? " 
 
 u What an absurd idea ! But, Jack, shall you 
 still go to Beman s ? You can t, you know. Every 
 body would laugh at you. A man with forty mil 
 lions or so, doing clerk s work in a bank ! It s 
 ridiculous ! " 
 
 " No doubt ! But what am I to do with myself ? 
 What do people like that do ? I can t hang about 
 the clubs all day." 
 
 "You can stay at home and talk to me," said 
 Katharine. " We can tell each other how much 
 nicer it is than when we had to meet in Washington 
 Square in the early morning when I had to put 
 red ribbons in my window do you remember ? 
 It s only three or four weeks ago, but it seems 
 years." 
 
 " It does, indeed. What tight places we ve been 
 through together since your father refused to hear 
 of me as a son-in-law ! Holloa ! There goes Ham 
 Bright ! What in the world can he be doing down 
 here at this time of day ? " 
 
 Bright was walking towards them, as quickly as 
 it was natural for him to walk, with his long, 
 heavy stride. 
 
 " It s of no use to run away he s seen us," 
 said Katharine. 
 
 a He looks in a better humour than I ve seen 
 him lately," answered John in a low voice, as they 
 approached Bright. 
 
268 THE RALSTONS. 
 
 They met and stood still a moment on the pave 
 ment. Even under his great disappointment Ham 
 ilton Bright had never shown the least ill-temper, 
 though he had avoided the Lauderdales and the 
 Ralstons as much as possible, and had managed so 
 that he scarcely ever saw John at the bank except 
 from a distance. But he had been very gloomy of 
 late. Now, however, as Ralston had said, he looked 
 more cheerful. 
 
 " Going down town again ? " asked John. " Not 
 that I come from Boston, you know, Ham but 
 when one meets a man going down South Fifth 
 Avenue at half past five in the afternoon, one s 
 naturally curious. What s up ? " 
 
 " Oh nothing. I was just going as far as 
 Grand Street about a house I ve bought there. 
 Did you know they d found the other will ? " 
 
 " Found the other will ? " repeated Ealston, in 
 the utmost surprise. " Well what sort of a will 
 is it ? Will it be good ? " 
 
 " I m so glad ! " exclaimed Katharine, thought 
 lessly. 
 
 Bright fixed his clear, blue eyes on her with 
 considerable curiosity, and hesitated an instant 
 before he spoke. 
 
 " Of course ! " he exclaimed. " They always said 
 you knew what was in it, cousin Katharine." 
 
 " Did they ? I don t know how they knew that 
 I did," she answered. " But I m glad it s found, 
 all the same." 
 
THE R ALSTONS. 269 
 
 "Are you? Well I hope it s all right. Of 
 course nobody knows what s in it. Allen wants 
 to collect the family at your house to-morrow morn 
 ing to hear it read. It seems to me it might have 
 been managed to-night, but he said there wasn t 
 time to send round. I think cousin Alexander 
 objected, too. He wants all the family. Will you 
 tell your mother, Jack ? Eleven o clock at Clinton 
 Place. Write a note to Beman to say why you 
 don t turn up at the bank." 
 
 "All right," answered John, gravely. "I hope 
 it will be all right, Ham, old man," he added, put 
 ting out his hand as Bright showed signs of being 
 in a hurry. 
 
 "Thank you, Jack," answered the latter, heartily. 
 "Not that you and I shall ever quarrel about money. 
 Good-bye, cousin Katharine." 
 
 And he went on and left them to pursue their 
 way in the opposite direction. They walked slowly, 
 and looked into one another s eyes. 
 
 " I thought he d burned it," said Ralston at last. 
 in a tone of wonder. 
 
 " So did I," answered Katharine. " Jack," she 
 continued, after a slight pause, " it won t do to go 
 and see papa now. Not till the will s been read 
 to-morrow. You don t know what a state of mind 
 he ll be in until he s heard it and then then 
 I m afraid it will be worse than ever." 
 
 " Yes let me see how was it ? You and 
 
270 THE RALSTONS. 
 
 Charlotte and I are to have everything, and pay 
 half the income to the parents. Isn t that it?" 
 
 " That s it. And there s a million set aside for 
 the Brights. But Heaven only knows what that 
 dreadful court will do this time ! " 
 
 " I don t much care," answered Ralston. " But 
 all the settling up will be suspended again for ever 
 so long. You ll never get the money to pay for 
 your new frock, dear, with all your millions!" 
 
 " Oh, Jack really ? I m frightened to death 
 about those bills ! " 
 
 " I was only laughing at you," said John, laugh 
 ing himself. " Besides, as I m really your hus 
 band, I m responsible for your dressmaker s bills 
 in the eye of the law. But, I confess, I begin to 
 wonder whether any of us will ever see any of 
 that money." 
 
CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 
 
 LONG after midnight Hester Crowdie sat beside 
 her sleeping husband, watching him with unwink 
 ing eyes. The soft, coloured light was shaded so 
 that no ray could fall upon his face to disturb his 
 rest, as he lay back upon the yielding pillow, sleep 
 ing very soundly. The house was still, but the 
 servants were not all gone to bed, for Hester was 
 anxious. At any moment she might need to send 
 for a doctor. But she sat watching the unconscious 
 man alone. 
 
 His eyes were closed, and his face was flushed. 
 He breathed very heavily, though she did not 
 quite realize it; for the sound of his breathing had 
 increased very gradually during many hours, from 
 having been at first quite inaudible until it filled 
 her ears with a steady, rhythmic roar, loud and 
 regular as the noise of a blacksmith s bellows. 
 But she was scarcely conscious of it, because she 
 had watched so long. 
 
 Hour after hour she had sat beside him, hardly 
 
 changing her position, and never leaving the room. 
 
 To her the house seemed still, and only now and 
 
 then the echo of the steam horns reached her ears, 
 
 271 
 
272 THE R ALSTONS. 
 
 made musical by the distance, as it floated from the 
 far river across the dozing city. 
 
 On a fine spring night New York is rarely asleep 
 before two o clock. It dozes, as it were, turning, 
 half awake, from time to time, and speaking 
 drowsily in its deep voice, like a strong man very 
 tired, but still conscious. It breathes, too, some 
 times, as Crowdie was breathing, very heavily, 
 especially in the nights that come after days of 
 passion and struggling ; and the breathing of a 
 great city at night is not like any other sound on 
 earth. 
 
 Hester was conscious that all was not well with 
 the man she loved, though he had slept so long. 
 She rose, and moved uneasily about the room. 
 She was very pale, and there were dark shadows in 
 her pallor, the shadows that fear s giant wraith 
 casts upon the human face when death is stalking 
 up and down, up and down, outside the door, wait 
 ing to see whether he may take the little life that 
 falls as a crumb from the table of the master, or 
 whether he must go away again to his own place, 
 out of sight. 
 
 But Hester did not know that he was there, as 
 she rose and crossed the room and came back to 
 stand at the foot of the bed, gazing at Crowdie s 
 face. She was anxious and uneasy, though she 
 had watched him once before in the same way. 
 But at that first time she had not done what she 
 
THE EALSTONS. 273 
 
 had done now, with feverish haste, thinking only 
 of helping him. 
 
 All at once she shivered, and she turned to see 
 whether the window were not open. But it was 
 closely shut. It was as though something very 
 cold had been laid upon her. She stared about, 
 nervously, and the pupils of her eyes grew very 
 large, with a frightened look. She laid both hands 
 upon the foot of the bedstead, and grasped it with 
 all her strength, bending forwards and staring at 
 Crowdie s face, and the chill thrilled very strangely 
 across her shoulders and all through her, so that 
 she felt it in her elbows and in her heels. She 
 glanced over her shoulder into the softly shadowed 
 corner farthest from the bed ; for she was sure that 
 something was there, in the room, a bodily pres 
 ence, which she must presently see. The chill 
 ran through her again and again, cold as ice, but 
 with a painful pricking. 
 
 She looked at Crowdie again and saw that his 
 eyes were no longer tightly closed. The lids were 
 a little raised, and she could see the edge of the 
 dark iris, and the white below it and on each side 
 of it. He had moved a little just as she had 
 turned to look into the corner. He ought not to 
 have moved, she thought, without reason. It was 
 as though a dead man had moved, she thought. 
 And again the chill came. She was sure that the 
 window must be open, but she could not look 
 
 VOL. II. K 
 
274 THE EALSTONS. 
 
 round. Suddenly she remembered how when she 
 had been a little girl she had been taken to be 
 photographed, and the man had put a cold iron 
 thing behind her head that seemed to hold her 
 with two frozen fingers just behind her ears. She 
 felt the frozen fingers now, in the same places, and 
 they were pressing her head down. For a moment 
 everything swam with her, and then it all passed. 
 The iron hand was gone the window was shut 
 there was nothing in the corner. 
 
 But instantly the terrible, stertorous breathing 
 rent her ears. It had gone on for hours. The 
 servants could hear it downstairs. The bedstead 
 trembled with it under her hands. But she had 
 not been conscious of it. The unnatural thing 
 that had touched her the thing that had come 
 in through the window and that had stood in the 
 corner it had unsealed her hearing. She heard 
 now, and fearfully. 
 
 With one slender arm under the pillow she raised 
 him, for she thought that he might breathe more 
 easily if his head were higher. His laboured 
 breath deafened her, and she could feel it through 
 her sleeve upon her other arm. Desperately she 
 hastened to arrange the pillows. But the dreadful 
 sound roared at her like the flames of a great fire. 
 In sudden and overwhelming terror she left him as 
 he was, half uncovered, and ran to the door, calling 
 wildly for help, again and again, down into the 
 
THE RALSTONS. 275 
 
 dimly-lighted staircase. Then she came back in a 
 new terror, lest her screams should have waked 
 him. But he slept on. In the movement of the 
 pillow as she had withdrawn her arm, his head had 
 fallen on one side. His eyes were half open, and 
 the breath was rough and choking. 
 
 She had never known how heavy a man s head 
 was. Her small, bloodless hands made an effort to 
 turn him then some one was with her, helping 
 her, anxiously and clumsily. 
 
 "Not so! Not that way!" she whispered, 
 hoarsely, with drawn, dry lips, and her little 
 hands touched the servant s rough ones with 
 uncertain direction, in haste and fear. 
 
 Then he breathed more easily, and she herself 
 drew breath. But she had been terrified, and she 
 sent for old Doctor Kouth, and sat down in her old 
 place to wait and watch until he should come. It 
 was better now. The coming of the servant had 
 broken the loneliness, and there was life in the ail- 
 again, instead of death. Her heart fluttered still, 
 like a wild bird tired out with beating its wings 
 against the bars. But there was no chill, and pres 
 ently the heart rested. He was better. She was 
 quite sure that he was better. The rough breath 
 ing would cease presently, he would sleep till 
 morning, and then he would waken and be himself 
 again, just as though nothing had happened. Now 
 that the fear was gone, she rose and went to the 
 
276 THE E ALSTONS. 
 
 window and let the shade run up so that slio could 
 see the stars. They had a soft and sleepy look, 
 like children s eyes at bed-time. The musical echo 
 of the horns came to her from the river. In the 
 old Colonnade House opposite and to the right, a 
 single window was lighted high up. Perhaps 
 some one was ill up there all alone. Then the 
 city moved in its dozing rest, with a subdued 
 thumping, rumbling noise that lasted a few sec 
 onds. Perhaps there was a fire far away) and the 
 engines and the hook-and-ladder carts were racing 
 away from the lumbering water-tank down one of 
 the quiet eastern avenues. The light in the win 
 dow of the Colonnade House went out suddenly 
 no one was ill there it had only been some one sit 
 ting up late. Hester missed the light, and the great 
 long building looked black against the dim sky, 
 and the stars blinked more sleepily. She drew the 
 shade down again and turned back into the room. 
 
 She started. Crowdie had seemed better when she 
 had left his side for a moment. It had eased him 
 to move his head. But now he was worse again, 
 and the room almost shook with the noise of his 
 breathing. It was as though he were inhaling 
 water that choked him and gurgled in his throat 
 and nostrils. She was frightened again, and ran 
 to his side. She took her little handkerchief which 
 lay on the small table at her elbow, and passed it 
 delicately over his mouth. Her hand trembled as 
 
THE R ALSTONS. 277 
 
 soon as she had done it, and the handkerchief fell 
 upon the woollen blanket, and gently unfolded 
 itself a little after it had fallen. It caught the 
 light and seemed to be alive, as though it had 
 taken some of the sleeping man s life from him. 
 She started again, and seized it to crumple it and 
 thrust it away, with something between fear and 
 impatience in her movement, and she bent over 
 her husband s face once more, and realized where 
 her real fear was, as she tenderly smoothed his 
 fair hair and softly touched his temples. 
 
 There was nothing to be done but to wait, and 
 she waited, not patiently. Sometimes the noise of 
 his breathing hurt her, and she pressed her hand 
 to her side, and hid her eyes for a moment. The 
 dismal minutes that would not go by, nor make way 
 for one another, dragged on through a long half- 
 hour, and more. Then there was a rumbling of 
 wheels on the cobble stones, and she was at the 
 window in an instant, flattening her face against 
 the glass as she tried to look northward, whence the 
 sound should come. It was Routh s carriage. That 
 was a certainty, even before she caught sight of the 
 yellow glare of the lamps, moving fan-like along 
 the broad way. It was not likely that any other 
 carriage should stray into the loneliness of Lafay 
 ette Place at that time of night. The carriage 
 stopped. Hester saw a man get out, and heard the 
 clap of the door of the brougham as it was sharply 
 
278 THE RALSTONS. 
 
 closed behind him. Immediately she was at the 
 door, her hand on the handle, but her eyes turned 
 anxiously upon Crowdie s face. The steps came 
 up the stairs, and she looked out. It was Doctor 
 Kouth himself, for she had sent a very urgent 
 message. 
 
 Without going upon the landing, she stretched 
 out her hand and almost dragged him into the 
 room, for somehow her terror increased to a frenzy 
 as she saw him, and she felt that her heart could 
 not go on beating long enough for him to speak. 
 Her face was very grave, but she was only con 
 scious of his deep violet-blue eyes that glanced at 
 her keenly as he passed her. He had half guessed 
 what was the matter, for the terrible breathing 
 could be heard on the stairs. 
 
 Without hesitation he took the shade from the 
 light, and held the little lamp close to Crowdie s 
 face. He raised first one eyelid and then the other. 
 The pupils were enormously dilated. Then he felt 
 the pulse, listened to the heart, and shook his head 
 almost imperceptibly. A moment later he was 
 scratching words hastily in his note-book. 
 
 u Why didn t you send word that it was mor 
 phia ? " he asked, sharply, without looking up. 
 " Send that by the carriage, and tell them to be 
 quick ! " He thrust the note into her hands and 
 almost pushed her from the room. " Make haste ! 
 I must have the things at once ! " he called after 
 her as she flew downstairs. 
 
TflK R ALSTONS. 279 
 
 Then he tried such means as he had at hand, 
 though he knew how useless they must be, doing 
 everything possible to rouse the inan from the 
 poisoned sleep. He smiled grimly at his own folly, 
 and laid the head upon its pillow again. Hester 
 was in the room in a moment. 
 
 "It s morphia," he said, "and he s had an over 
 dose. How did he come to get it ? Who gave it 
 to him? " 
 
 " I did," answered Hester, in a clear voice, and 
 her lips were white. " Will he die ? " she whis 
 pered, with sudden horror. 
 
 She almost sprang at Routh as she asked the 
 question, grasping his arm in both her hands. 
 
 "I don t know," he answered, slowly. "I ll try 
 to bring him round. Control yourself, Mrs. Crow- 
 die. This isn t the time for crying. Tell me what 
 happened." 
 
 She told him something, brokenly, her memory 
 half gone from fear how something had happened 
 to distress him, and he had turned red and fallen, 
 twisted and unconscious she did not know what 
 she told him. 
 
 " Has it ever happened before ? " asked Kouth, 
 who was holding her hands to quiet her, while she 
 moved her feet nervously. 
 
 It had happened once, she told him, on a winter s 
 evening when they had been alone. She could say 
 that much, and then her eyes were drawn to Crow- 
 
280 THE EALSTONS, 
 
 die s face, and to the horror of it, as a bent spring 
 flies back to its own line when released. Routh 
 pressed her hand. 
 
 " Look at me, please," he said, authoritatively. 
 "We can t do anything for him till my things 
 come. Tell me why you gave him morphia." 
 
 She had thought it was the right thing. Her 
 husband had told her that he had formerly taken 
 a great deal of it. He had suffered great pain 
 when he had been younger, from an accident, and 
 had fallen into the habit that kills. But before 
 they had been married he had given it up for 
 her sake. 
 
 Her eyes turned to him again. She snatched 
 her hands from Routh s and pressed them desper 
 ately to her ears to keep out the sound of his 
 breathing. But Routh drew her away and made 
 her look at him again. 
 
 And these attacks came from having given up 
 morphia, she told him. Crowdie had said so. He 
 had told her that, of course, a dose of the poison 
 would stop one of them, but that he was deter 
 mined not to begin taking it again. It would ruin 
 his life and hers if he did. The attacks gave him 
 no pain, he had said. He did not remember after 
 wards what had happened to him. But of course 
 they were bad for him, and might come more fre 
 quently. He had been terribly distressed. It had 
 seemed to be breaking his heart, because it must 
 
THE RALSTONS. 281 
 
 give her pain. He had made her promise never to 
 give him morphia when he was unconscious. He 
 was determined not to fall back into the habit 
 of it. 
 
 " Then why did you do it ? " asked Routh, scru 
 tinizing her pale face and frightened eyes. 
 
 She had imagined that it would save him pain, 
 though he had told her that he recollected nothing 
 of his sensations after the attack was past. 
 
 " He was all stiff and twisted ! " she cried, in 
 broken tones. " His hands were all twisted his 
 eyes turned up." 
 
 " But where did you get the morphia ? " asked 
 the physician, holding her before him, kindly, but 
 so that she had to face him. 
 
 "He had it," she said. "I made him show it 
 to me once. He kept it in a drawer with the little 
 instrument for it. He showed me how to pinch the 
 skin and prick it it was so easy ! There was the 
 mixture in a bottle the cork wouldn t come out 
 I did it with a hairpin " 
 
 " How much did you give him ? " enquired the 
 doctor, bringing her back to her story, as her mind 
 groped, terror-struck amongst its details. 
 
 "Why the little syringe full wasn t that 
 right ? " She saw the despair of life in his eyes. 
 " Oh, God ! My God ! " she shrieked, breaking 
 from his hands. " I ve killed him ! " 
 
 "I m afraid you have," said Eouth, but under 
 
282 THE EALSTONS. 
 
 his breath, and she could not have heard him 
 speak. 
 
 She threw herself wildly upon her husband s 
 breast, clutching him with her small white hands, 
 lifting herself upon them, staring into his face, 
 and then shrieking as she fell forwards again, her 
 hands tearing at her own thick brown hair. Routh 
 knew that Crowdie could not be disturbed. He 
 stood back from the bedside and watched her with 
 far-seeing, dreaming eyes, while the first fever of 
 despair burned itself out in a raving delirium. He 
 had seen such sights many times in his life, but 
 he remembered nothing more terrible than the 
 grief of this woman who had killed her husband 
 by a hideous mistake, thinking to save him pain, 
 thinking it well to break a promise he had taken 
 of her for his safety, and which she had believed 
 had been only for his self-respect. 
 
 Crowdie was past saving. Kouth did all that his 
 science could do, trying in turn every known means 
 of breaking the death sleep, trying to hem in the 
 life before it was quite gone out, that the very 
 least breath of it might be imprisoned in the body. 
 But it was of no use. The poison was in the 
 veins, in the brain, the subtle spirit of the opium 
 devil distilled to an invisible enemy. The little 
 hand of Fate, that had been so small and noiseless 
 a few hours earlier, spread, gigantic, and grasped 
 Science by the throat and shook her off. There 
 
THE R ALSTONS. 283 
 
 was not anything to be done. And Hester twisted 
 her hands, and moaned and shrieked, and beat her 
 breast, like a woman mad, as indeed she was. 
 
 Routh had understood. Crowdie was an epileptic. 
 He had perhaps believed himself cured when he 
 had married his wife, and had been horrified by the 
 first attack. He loved her, and he would naturally 
 wish to hide from her the secret of his life. The 
 general feeling about epilepsy is not like what is 
 felt for any other human weakness. An epileptic 
 is hardly regarded as a natural being, and the 
 belief that the disease is hereditary brands it with 
 an especial horror. It had been ingenious on 
 Crowdie s part to invent the story about the 
 morphia, and to carry it out and impress it on 
 her by showing her the instrument and the bottle 
 of poison. It was possible that there might have 
 been some foundation of truth in the tale. He 
 might have had the implements from a physician. 
 But Routh, who had known him long, was con 
 vinced, for many reasons, that he had never been a 
 victim to the habit of using the drug regularly. It 
 had been very ingenious of the poor man. Hester 
 could hardly have known anything of the after 
 effects of breaking off such a habit, still less was it 
 probable that she should know much about epilepsy, 
 and trusting him as she did, it was natural that she 
 should never have reported what he had told her 
 to any one who might have explained the truth. 
 
284 THE RALSTONS. 
 
 The only mistake he had made had been in not 
 throwing away the poison, and refilling the bottle 
 with pure water. He had miscalculated the anxiety 
 she would feel to relieve him, if he ever had an 
 attack again. The mistake had cost him his life. 
 
 Towards morning the house in Lafayette Place 
 was very still again, though there were lights in 
 the windows, and the shadows of people moving 
 about within passed and repassed upon the shades. 
 Only the policeman on his beat, looking up east 
 ward and seeing the dawn in the sky and glancing 
 at the windows, knew that there had been trouble 
 in the house during the night, and guessed that for 
 a day or two the blinds would not be raised. But 
 all the great city began to breathe again, turning in 
 its sleep, and waking drowsily in the cool spring 
 dawning to begin its daily life of work and play 
 and passion, unconscious of such trifles as the 
 loss of a man, or the madness of a frantic woman s 
 grief. 
 
CHAPTEK XXXIII. 
 
 IT would have needed more imagination than 
 Katharine Lauderdale possessed to suppose that 
 the scene in which she acted a part during the 
 afternoon could possibly lead to serious conse 
 quences. Had she been told how jealous Hester 
 really was of her, she could not have realized what 
 such jealousy meant. She had gone away much more 
 hurt by Hester s coolness, and by her refusal to re 
 turn to the old terms of friendship, than disturbed 
 by the thought of the domestic quarrel she had left 
 behind her. If Hester was jealous, foolishly, and 
 if Crowdie had displeased both her and Katharine, 
 the young girl considered it only fair that they 
 should talk the matter over, and if Hester were 
 angry, it might teach her husband to be more care 
 ful in future. 
 
 What had really affected her was the disenchant 
 ment she had felt when she found that Hester 
 had no intention of renewing the relations which 
 had existed before the affair of the will had pro 
 duced a temporary estrangement. It had been 
 another blow to another ideal, and another possi 
 bility of life was wiped away from the future. 
 285 
 
286 THE EALSTONS. 
 
 Little by little her whole existence was being 
 narrowed to one thought, one happiness, one belief, 
 all centred in John Ralston. Of all the many 
 people who had come into her young life, he alone 
 had not brought her any permanent pain, nor any 
 pain at all, save once, when she had been terribly 
 mistaken about something he had done during the 
 previous winter. More than once, indeed, and 
 even within the past few weeks, they had been 
 near to what would have made a disagreement 
 between most lovers. But only near no more. 
 Just at that point when others might have taken 
 offence foolishly, or spoken the hasty word that 
 sets the whole fabric of love vibrating, and some 
 times makes it rock and topple over and fall just 
 at that point one or the other of them had always 
 yielded, and the danger had been over in an in 
 stant and as soon forgotten. It seemed as though 
 they could never quarrel ; and when they were 
 weary, as they often had been of late, it rested 
 them to be together even for a few moments. 
 
 So it had happened on that day when Ralston 
 had met Katharine as she was coming from the 
 Crowdies , and they had walked together, and 
 made a plan which would have been put into 
 execution at once, but for the news Bright had 
 given them, and which momentarily checked them 
 when they were on the point of disclosing their 
 long-kept secret. Then they had parted, judging 
 
THE RALSTONS. 287 
 
 it wiser that John should stay away from the 
 house that evening, and avoid the danger of irri 
 tating Alexander Junior s temper, which had most 
 probably been more or less roused by the finding 
 of another will. 
 
 Katharine went into the library before going to 
 her room, with a vague idea of ascertaining the 
 state of the family humour, if any one happened 
 to be there. She was not disappointed, for her 
 father and mother were together, Alexander sit 
 ting upright in Katharine s favourite chair, and 
 Mrs. Lauderdale lying upon the sofa and staring 
 at the ceiling. Katharine saw her first, and under 
 stood her mother s warning glance. It was clear 
 that there had been a pause in the conversation. 
 Alexander s face was cold and expressionless as he 
 looked at his wife. 
 
 "Well," he said, in a tone of repressed but 
 righteous indignation, "have you heard the news, 
 Katharine ? They ve found another will." 
 
 "Yes," she answered, kissing her mother by 
 force of habit rather than from any other motive. 
 "I just met Hamilton Bright in the street. He 
 told me." 
 
 " Oh, yes ; he knows all about it." Alexander 
 spoke with profound resentment, as though Bright 
 were personally responsible for the second will. 
 "Katharine, my dear, I don t think you ve kissed 
 me to-day. I didn t see you this morning." 
 
288 THE E ALSTONS. 
 
 -v~ 
 
 Katharine looked at him in some surprise, smiled 
 a little foolishly, as people do when they cannot 
 understand exactly what is wanted of them, and 
 then rose almost before she had sat down. She 
 went to him and laid her cheek against his with 
 precision, and both he and she kissed the air au 
 dibly and simultaneously. Alexander Junior had 
 always detested anything like demonstration, but 
 he insisted, on the other hand, upon the punctual 
 execution of certain affectionate practices, as a 
 matter of household discipline. Early or late the 
 air must be kissed when the cheeks were in contact. 
 
 " I thought I d seen you," said Katharine, as she 
 retired again to her seat. 
 
 " No," answered Alexander, meditatively. " No 
 I think not. My child," he continued, in a tone 
 unusually gentle for him, "do you think that with 
 out feeling that you are betraying my poor uncle 
 Kobert s confidence, you could tell me what that 
 will contains ? " 
 
 She fancied from the way in which he spoke 
 that he had framed the question at his leisure 
 before she had come home, so as neither to offend 
 her nor to refer to his previous attempts to gain 
 her confidence. She hesitated a moment before 
 answering him, but he did not appear to be im 
 patient. In her quick weighing of the case, she 
 could see little or no reason for not satisfying his 
 curiosity. 
 
THE EALSTONS. 289 
 
 "Kecollect, my dear, that I only wish you to 
 speak about it, if you feel that you can do so with 
 a perfectly clear conscience," he said. 
 
 " Oh, yes ; of course ! " she answered, repressing 
 a smile. "But I don t really see why you shouldn t 
 know. I think, while he was alive well, that 
 was different. But now I think it s quite fair. 
 Of course, I don t know what will this is. He 
 may have made several, for all we know. But the 
 one he told me about was like this. His idea was 
 to make three trusts, all equal. Oh ! in the first 
 place there was to be one million for the Brights, 
 amongst the three, aunt Maggie, Hamilton, and 
 Hester. Then the three equal shares of the rest 
 were to go in trust to Charlotte and Jack Ralston 
 and me what did you say, papa ? " 
 
 Alexander Junior had uttered an indistinct 
 exclamation. 
 
 " Nothing," he said. " Go on." 
 
 " Each of us three was to pay half the income of 
 a share to one of you three, you and mother, and 
 Mrs. Kalston. But before that I forgot to say 
 it each of us was to contribute something to 
 make up an income for grandpapa about fifty 
 thousand dollars altogether, I think. Then the 
 fortune was all to be in trust for our possible chil 
 dren. That was all. I don t think there was 
 anything else." 
 
 " Do you mean to say that there was nothing 
 
 VOL. II. 19 
 
290 THE RALSTONS. 
 
 left outright to any of us older ones ? " asked 
 Alexander, in a tone of stupefaction. 
 
 " Well you three had half the income amongst 
 you," answered Katharine. 
 
 " What an absurd will ! " exclaimed her father. 
 
 Then he bit his lip and sat in silence, looking at 
 his clasped hands. 
 
 " But it may not be that will, after all," he said, 
 in a low voice, after a long pause. " A man who 
 will leave one old will behind him may leave twenty. 
 Lawyers always say that any one who changes his 
 will once is sure to do it again and again." 
 
 He drew little consolation from the thought, 
 however, and he was suffering all that his arid 
 nature was capable of feeling, in the anticipation 
 of losing the control of the fortune which had been 
 practically within his grasp. But he had grown 
 used to uncertainty and emotion within the last 
 two months, and his face was set and hard. Never 
 theless, he felt that he could not long bear the 
 eyes of the two women upon him in his trouble, 
 unless he made an effort of some sort. 
 
 " Did the will say nothing about the trustee 
 ship ? Who were to be the trustees ? " He asked 
 the question with a revival of interest. 
 
 " I don t know," answered Katharine. " I never 
 saw the will, of course. He only told me what I 
 have told you." 
 
 Alexander said nothing, but he slowly rose to 
 
THE EALSTONS. 291 
 
 his feet, with less of energy and directness than 
 he usually showed in his movements. 
 
 " We ll talk about it this evening," he said, and 
 left the room. 
 
 When he was gone Katharine rose and went 
 over and sat upon the sofa at her mother s feet. 
 Mrs. Lauderdale had said nothing during the brief 
 interview, but had watched her husband s face 
 anxiously when he spoke, as though she had an 
 ticipated some outbreak of temper, at least. 
 
 " I m glad you told him at once, dear," she said. 
 " I m very much troubled about him. I was afraid 
 he d be angry." 
 
 "Isn t it dreadful that any one should care so 
 much ? " Katharine spoke thoughtfully, and looked 
 at the floor. 
 
 "I m very anxious," answered Mrs. Lauderdale, 
 not noticing what her daughter had said. " He 
 has talked in his sleep all night. He talks of 
 nothing but the money. Of course, it s incoherent, 
 and I can t make out half of what he says. It s 
 all the worse. I m afraid his brain will be seri 
 ously affected if this goes on much longer." 
 
 " Mother hasn t every one got some great pas 
 sion like that, locked up inside of them, and trying 
 to get out ? " 
 
 Katharine looked up as she asked the question. 
 Neither she nor her mother thought of those months 
 of insane envy, which had almost separated them in 
 heart forever. 
 
292 THE RALSTONS. 
 
 "I never did," said Mrs. Lauderdale, innocently. 
 "I never cared for anything like that." 
 
 "I have," said Katharine. "I do. It s just like 
 my caring for Jack. You might as well try to face 
 an express train as to stand in the way of it. I 
 know just how papa feels now. Only with him 
 it s money. He ll upset the whole world to have 
 it, as I d turn the universe inside out rather than 
 lose Jack. I suppose that s the meaning of the 
 word passion I m beginning to understand it." 
 
 " It sounds much more like the meaning of sin," 
 observed Mrs. Lauderdale. " I don t mean in your 
 case, dear. Love s quite another thing. Perhaps 
 I shouldn t have said it at all." 
 
CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 
 EVEN Alexander Junior, more than preoccupied 
 by his hopes and fears in regard to the will, 
 was profoundly shocked by the news of Walter 
 Crowdie s sudden death. Doctor Routh, as a 
 friend of the family, took it upon himself to notify 
 all the relations of what had taken place in the 
 night, for during the first hours Hester had been 
 incapable of any thought. He had undertaken to 
 inform Hester s mother, and he wrote to the Lau- 
 derdales and the Ealstons at once, in order that 
 they might not learn the news from the papers 
 and accidentally. 
 
 No one of the family had ever liked poor 
 Crowdie, but all of them had been fond of Hester 
 at one period or another of her life, though she 
 had never seemed to possess the power of keeping 
 upon terms of intimacy with more than one of 
 them at a time, and never with any for very 
 long. The fact that the loss was hers softened 
 every judgment of the man who was gone, and in 
 the first anxiety which every one felt to show a 
 sympathy which was genuine, Alexander Junior 
 was perhaps the only one who remembered that 
 293 
 
294 THE R ALSTONS. 
 
 Mr. Allen was coming at eleven o clock to open 
 the document which had been found, before the 
 eyes of the whole family. With a delicacy which 
 might be attributed to the implacability of cir 
 cumstances, but for which he was afterwards 
 willing to take more credit than he got, he sent 
 a message down town, explaining what had hap 
 pened, and putting off the meeting until the after 
 noon. Alexander spent his morning in making 
 sure that every one could be present, except Mrs. 
 Bright. Hamilton would represent his mother 
 and sister. 
 
 It seemed heartless to Katharine that no one 
 not even Hamilton Bright himself should have 
 suggested putting off the reading of the paper at 
 least until the next day, and once more the ruth- 
 lessness of humanity was thrust upon her so that she 
 could not help seeing it. It was true, she admitted, 
 that in reality Crowdie had been the husband of 
 a very distant cousin, and in theory neither the 
 Lauderdales nor the Kalstons would be expected 
 to suspend a curiosity which concerned the fate of 
 a colossal fortune, for the matter of a death which 
 hardly touched them. Yet Katharine thought that 
 in practice people might show some feeling in such 
 a case. What she saw was that the first shock 
 was real and startling, but that half an hour after 
 hearing the news her father and mother were dis 
 cussing Crowdie s character with about as much 
 
THE RALSTONS. 295 
 
 consideration as though he had been a dead China- 
 man, or a foreign prime minister. She registered 
 another bit of strong evidence against the efficacy 
 of professed religion, and shut herself up in her 
 room for the morning, for the mere satisfaction of 
 being alone and of asking herself what she had 
 really thought of Crowdie. 
 
 She had detested him. She had no doubt of 
 that. When she recalled a certain smile of his, 
 and thought of the redness of his lips, she shivered 
 and was disgusted. She did not like to remem 
 ber his undulating, womanish gait, nor the pallor 
 of his face. Everything about him had repelled 
 her intensely. And yet, when she thought of 
 him lying dead at that moment, ,she felt a sharp 
 pang, which was very like what she might have 
 felt if she had really missed him. She could 
 not understand that. Then she remembered his 
 voice, and the enchantment of his singing on that 
 night at the Brights the song of Lohengrin 
 the song of the swan, she thought, as it had turned 
 out to be in truth, so far as she was concerned. 
 She wondered whether it were his voice that she 
 was really thinking of with regret. For she cer 
 tainly felt the little pang. It came again when she 
 remembered that he was dead. She tried it two or 
 three times. It came once more, then very faintly, 
 then not at all, try as she might to think of him as 
 he probably looked. She had never seen any one 
 
296 THE RALSTONS. 
 
 dead except old Robert Lauderdale, but that was a 
 recent memory. All the details of death were fresh 
 in her mind, and she could picture to herself the 
 quiet household, the subdued voices, the darkened 
 rooms, the flowers. The faint smell of them came 
 back to her. She wondered whether the smell had 
 been so peculiar, and faint, and sickening, because 
 they had been almost all white. But there was 
 no pang of missing when she thought of the 
 old man. Yet she had been fond of him, and she 
 had detested Crowdie. She did not understand, 
 as she sat all alone thinking about it. She came 
 to the conclusion that when people die they are 
 missed in proportion to their vitality by those who 
 have not really loved them. Perhaps she was 
 right. The nature and causes of those sudden 
 thrusts which ordinarily sensitive people feel have 
 been very little studied. 
 
 But Katharine was sincerely sorry for Hester. 
 She did not know whether to go to her at once, or 
 to wait until the next day. Her impulse was to 
 go immediately, though she asked herself whether 
 Hester could possibly wish to see her, and she 
 tried to put herself in Hester s place. But the 
 thought that John Ralston might die brought such 
 a burst of pain with it that she rose from her seat 
 and walked about the room, breathing a little faster. 
 Then, having risen, she went downstairs and con 
 sulted her mother. 
 
THE EALSTONS. 297 
 
 " If I were you, I should go," said Mrs. Lauder- 
 dale. "I ll go with you, if you like. You ve 
 always been her best friend. I m sure she s been 
 much nearer to you than your sister ever was, 
 hasn t she ? Of course she has. It can t do any 
 harm to go and ask for aunt Maggie, and if Hester 
 wants to see you, you can go up and I ll come home 
 alone, or stay downstairs with aunt Maggie until 
 you re ready." 
 
 "That sounds very sensible," said Katharine. 
 "I ll get ready." 
 
 At the house in Lafayette Place everything 
 seemed familiar to the young girl. It was just 
 as she had anticipated. The blinds were drawn 
 down. Old Fletcher, the butler, shuffled and 
 looked red and lachrymose, as he opened the door. 
 There was a strong smell of white flowers. 
 
 Presently Mrs. Bright appeared, pale and very 
 grave, in a black frock which was too tight for her 
 and rather old-fashioned the last one she had 
 worn in her long mourning for her husband. They 
 went into the little room which had been the scene 
 of the trouble on the previous evening. The draw 
 ing of old Kobert Lauderdale still lay upon the 
 table, where Crowdie had placed it ; only the little 
 tea-table was gone. Again Katharine felt that 
 thrust at her heart which she could not explain. 
 It all seemed so near, and yet what was upstairs 
 made such a great difference. 
 
298 THE RALSTONS. 
 
 They talked together in subdued tones for a IV \\ 
 minutes. Aunt Maggie said that Hester was behav 
 ing very strangely, and that she was anxious about 
 her. Walter had always seemed to possess a 
 strange influence over her. Mrs. Bright could 
 not understand it. She herself had never quite 
 approved of the match, and Walter had never 
 endeared himself to her, in spite of his talent and 
 apparent devotion to his wife. Hester was acting 
 very strangely. She was not wild now. She did 
 not scream nor throw herself about. On the con 
 trary, she was so calm that her quiet was posi 
 tively terrifying. The people by which term 
 aunt Maggie meant the undertakers could do 
 nothing without her. She would hardly let them 
 touch poor Walter she wanted to do everything 
 herself. She must certainly break down, and per 
 haps lose her reason. People sometimes went mad 
 in that way, but it would be a pity especially 
 for such a man as Crowdie. No. Walter had 
 never endeared himself to Mrs. Bright. 
 
 Katharine looked at the kind-hearted, stout, 
 elderly woman, with her refined face and her air 
 of superiority over the common herd, and won 
 dered whether she had any real feelings. She 
 hardly made a pretence of regret for the young 
 life that had been cut short, though she seemed 
 really anxious for her daughter. She was like the 
 rest of them, thought Katharine, and she really 
 
THE RALSTONS. 299 
 
 had no heart. That was clear. She asked whether 
 Hester would be willing to see her. 
 
 " Really," answered^ Mrs. Bright, " she s behav 
 ing so strangely, poor child, that there s no know 
 ing what she may do. She may be angry if I 
 don t tell that you re here. She s insisted on 
 having him carried into the studio. Poor dar 
 ling! I let her do as she pleases. But I ll go 
 and ask her if she d like to see you. It can t do 
 any harm, at all events." 
 
 Aunt Maggie left the room, walking on tiptoe 
 and listening before she actually went out, after 
 opening the door. 
 
 " Mother, is everybody as heartless as that ? " 
 asked Katharine when she was gone, in a tone 
 which seemed to expect no answer. 
 
 " Heartless ? " repeated Mrs. Lauderdale. " I 
 don t think she s heartless. She s dreadfully anx 
 ious about Hester." 
 
 " Yes ; but about poor Mr. Crowdie she 
 doesn t seem to care in the least." 
 
 " Oh, no she never liked him. Why should 
 she ? Take care, though ! somebody might hear 
 us talking." 
 
 Katharine sighed and was silent. Her mother 
 did not seem to understand what she meant any 
 more than any one else. After the first shock they 
 all appeared to be perfectly indifferent. Crowdie 
 was dead. Bury him! Doubtless they were al- 
 
300 THE RALSTONS. 
 
 ready wondering whether Hester would marry 
 again, and if so, when. Yet Katharine knew that 
 they would all be shocked if Hester wore mourn 
 ing less than three years. It was her business to 
 mourn ; it was theirs, in the interest of society, to 
 see that she mourned long and decently for a man 
 whom they had all disliked. 
 
 Before long Mrs. Bright returned, softly as she 
 had gone, shut the door noiselessly behind her, and 
 looked round the room as though she thought that 
 some fourth person might be present and listening. 
 Then, with an air of secrecy, she spoke to Katha 
 rine. 
 
 " My dear, she ll see you if you ll come upstairs." 
 
 " Certainly," answered Katharine. " I ll go at 
 once." 
 
 " But you mustn t be surprised by anything she 
 does," said Mrs. Bright, anxiously. " She ll want 
 you to see him, I think. She s looking very quiet, 
 but she s very strange. Humour her, Katharine 
 humour her a little." 
 
 Katharine nodded, but said nothing. 
 
 " She s waiting for you on the landing outside 
 the studio," added Mrs. Bright. " I needn t go up 
 with you, need I ? I ve just been up all those 
 stairs." 
 
 " Of course not." Katharine answered. 
 
 As she went something oddly like fear got hold 
 of her, and her heart fluttered unexpectedly. She 
 
THE RALSTONS. 301 
 
 was conscious that she was pale as she ascended to 
 the top of the house. Probably, she thought, it 
 was the idea of seeing the dead man s face that 
 affected her unpleasantly. She nerved herself to 
 make an effort and went on, wondering that it 
 should be so strangely hard to go. 
 
 As she began to go up the last flight of stairs 
 she was conscious that Hester was standing at the 
 top, waiting for her. She wished that she had not 
 offered to come. Then she looked up and met the 
 deep eyes, and saw the ghastly face turned towards 
 her. Hester was excessively pale, and even her 
 lips were colourless. Her slight figure looked 
 taller than usual in the straight loose gown of 
 black, and her hands, clasped together upon the 
 banister, had the emaciated, nervous look of some 
 hands in pictures by the early painters. Exhaus 
 tion, in some people, shows itself in the hands 
 before it appears in the face. 
 
 Katharine reached the top of the flight and 
 stood still, looking at her, wishing to speak but 
 not finding words just then. They had parted 
 almost, if not quite, as enemies, on the previous 
 day. Katharine went a step nearer. Her face 
 showed well enough the deep sympathy she felt, 
 but Hester did not exactly look at her face, but 
 only into her eyes, with a fixed stare that made 
 the young girl feel uneasy. That stare alone would 
 have justified Mrs. Bright in saying that her 
 
302 THE RALSTONS. 
 
 daughter was behaving strangely. The transpar 
 ent hands unclasped one another, but they fell 
 straight to her sides. As Katharine extended her 
 own, Hester drew back, the stare became more fixed, 
 the eyes opened more, till they were very wide, the 
 finely pencilled brows were raised haughtily, and 
 the shadowy figure seemed to grow taller. Then 
 she spoke, slowly and distinctly, in a voice that 
 did not tremble. 
 
 " I wanted to see you. Come with me." 
 She turned and opened the door of the studio, 
 leading the way. Katharine was startled by what 
 she saw. The great room had been darkened as 
 much as possible by drawing all the thick shades, 
 which had been made to keep out the sun in sum 
 mer, and a great number of candles were burning 
 with a dim, yellow light. The air was thick with 
 the smoke of burning perfumes, which rose in tall, 
 straight, grey plumes, from two censers placed upon 
 the hearth before the huge chimney-piece. In 
 the absolutely still atmosphere the smoke rose 
 to the height of a man before it broke and opened, 
 hanging then like draped grey curtains in the 
 heavy air. The strange, cool smell of burning 
 myrrh predominated, but in spite of it the drowsy, 
 overpowering odour of frankincense reached Kath 
 arine s nostrils. She stood still and stared through 
 the smoke. 
 
 In the middle of the room Crowdie lay dead, 
 
THE R ALSTONS. 303 
 
 clothed in a long garment of stuff that was soft 
 and dark. The couch was covered with a silken 
 carpet which hung down to the floor. The pale 
 light of death softened and beautified the repulsive 
 features, in their solemn cairn, to a degree which 
 Katharine would not have believed possible, had 
 she been capable of thought just then. But she 
 was taken by surprise ; she was a little frightened, 
 and she was dazed by the glare of the many can 
 dles, and dizzy with the sudden breathing of the 
 perfume-laden air. She stood still at a little dis 
 tance from the couch and looked at the dead face, 
 stretching her head forward with a sort of timid 
 curiosity, holding her body back with the instinc 
 tive dread of death which the young feel in spite 
 of themselves. 
 
 Hester did not stand beside her. With slow 
 steps, as though she were moving with a solemn 
 procession to the rhythm of a funeral march, 
 sweeping her long black gown noiselessly behind 
 her, she passed to the other side, and came up to 
 the couch and stood over her husband s body, fac 
 ing Katharine. In the shadowy smoke of the 
 incense, with the flaring light of the wax candles 
 upon her, she was like a supernatural being. She 
 might have been the freed soul of the dead man, 
 come back to look once more at Katharine s face. 
 
 " Come nearer to me," she said, in deadly calm, 
 without a tremor. 
 
804 THE EALSTONS. 
 
 An older woman might not have obeyed the 
 summons, and might have realized that Hester 
 Crowdie was to all intents and purposes mad, since 
 it could not be supposed that she had planned a 
 tragic scene, with a theatrical instinct nowhere at 
 fault, even in a single detail. But there was some 
 thing really terrible and grand in it, as it struck 
 Katharine ; and there was the grim reality of death 
 lying there and vouching for the widowed woman s 
 sincerity. To those not familiar with the dead, 
 nothing can seem like comedy in their silent pres 
 ence. To those for whom death has lost all horror, 
 there is scarcely anything but comedy, anywhere. 
 
 Katharine obeyed and went nearer, but not as 
 near as Hester herself. Instinctively she held 
 back her skirts, as though fearing even the contact 
 of the carpet on which Crowdie lay. Her right 
 hand she still carried in a scarf. 
 
 Hester s fixed gaze met her again, and she was 
 conscious that her own eyes were uncertain. There 
 was an irresistible something which drew them to 
 the dead man s face. But when Hester spoke 
 again the young girl looked at her. 
 
 " Katharine Lauderdale, this is your doing, and 
 this is what you have done to me." 
 
 The words came clearly, like those she had 
 spoken before, monotonously and distinctly, as 
 though she had learned them by rote. Katharine 
 started at first, and opened her eyes wider, as 
 
THE R ALSTONS. 305 
 
 though doubting whether she were in her senses. 
 But she found no word to say, though her lips were 
 parted. 
 
 "You have killed my husband. You have de 
 stroyed my life. I have brought you here to see 
 what you have done." 
 
 Katharine did not start this time, but she drew 
 back a little, with an indescribable horror that was 
 not fear. 
 
 "You must be mad," she said, in a low voice, 
 keeping her eyes on Hester s. 
 
 A strange, fantastic smile played upon the pale 
 lips, and looked more than unnatural in the yellow 
 glare of the candles. 
 
 " I wish I were mad," she said. 
 
 In the long silence which followed, Katharine 
 glanced at the dead man s face. Its set, waxen 
 smile was like Hester s, and the girl felt a creep 
 ing shudder in her shoulders. She bent her body 
 a little. 
 
 " He cannot hurt you," said Hester, holding her 
 with inexorable eyes. " He knows that you have 
 killed him, but he cannot hurt you. If he could, 
 he would for my sake. Come close to him and 
 look at him." 
 
 Katharine came forward again, more because she 
 was brave and would not even seem afraid, than 
 for any other reason. 
 
 " My dear Hester," she said, trying to speak 
 
 VOL. II. 20 
 
306 THE RALSTONS. 
 
 naturally, but in a low voice, "you re beside your 
 self with grief. You don t know what you re 
 saying." 
 
 "I know what I am saying/ answered the 
 widowed woman, solemnly. " You shall listen to 
 all I have to say. Then you shall go, and I will 
 never see you again until you are dead. Then I 
 will come and look at you, for his sake. You tried 
 to steal him from me while he was living. He is 
 mine now, to keep forever. You cannot get him. 
 Look at him, for he is mine. The last words he 
 ever heard me speak were cruel, unkind words. 
 Then he fell. He did not speak afterwards. I 
 gave him the morphia. I told you my story once 
 but it was not the true story. It killed him. 
 It was my hand that killed him, through your 
 soul, and your soul shall pay me. I am not mad. 
 You have done this to me. You know it now. 
 You made me speak those last words he heard." 
 
 Katharine listened in silence chilled with a 
 sort of horror of which she had never dreamt. 
 There was an unnatural terror for her in the 
 woman s deadly calm. There was no passion in 
 the voice, no hatred, no jealousy. It was as 
 though she were possessed by an unseen power 
 that used her mouth to speak with, and controlled 
 her, and against which she could do nothing. 
 
 " Have you heard ? Do you know now ? " she 
 asked after a pause. 
 
THE IIALSTONS. 307 
 
 Still Katharine did not speak. A new sensation 
 of fear crept upon her. She began to think that 
 the dead man s lips moved and that the quiet lids 
 trembled, and she could not take her eyes from the 
 face. 
 
 " You have no heart," said the voice. " You are 
 the worst woman alive to-day, anywhere in the 
 whole world. You said you were my friend, and 
 you have done this thing to me. You have done 
 it. No one else has done it. It is all your fault. 
 You pretended that you loved me like a sister, and 
 you came often, and he saw you. You are more 
 beautiful than I am, and he saw that you were. 
 But he did not love you. Oh, no ! He loved me. 
 You pleased his eyes as everything beautiful 
 pleased him. He did not know how bad you were. 
 But I made him say that he hated you, he said 
 it twice before he died, and you had only pleased 
 his eyes. But now they are closed, and you can 
 not please him any more, because he cannot see 
 you." 
 
 Katharine looked up slowly, realizing that the 
 woman was insane. She had never seen an insane 
 person, and it had been hard to understand at first. 
 She did not know what to do. Her blood froze at 
 her throat she could feel the cold at her collar. 
 Still the monotonous voice went on speaking, while 
 the incense and the myrrh sent up their straight 
 plumes of smoke into the cloudy air, and the heavy 
 
308 THE EALSTONS. 
 
 perfumes grew more and more oppressive and 
 stupefying. 
 
 "You pleased him so much that he broke his 
 promise to me, and it was almost the only promise 
 I had ever asked of him. He sang to you, because 
 you pleased him so much. I will not forgive you. 
 I never will. But he is dead now. See ! I kiss 
 him. He does not open his eyes as he used to do 
 when I kissed him softly." 
 
 The dark figure bent down and Hester kissed 
 the dead face, and again her unnatural smile 
 seemed to be reflected in it. 
 
 " He smiles," she said. " But he cannot kiss me. 
 And he cannot sing to you any more. You made 
 him do it once. He will not do it again. Once 
 you made him break his promise. He will not 
 break it again. He will keep it. The dead keep 
 their promises, and he has promised to be mine 
 always now. I am not so sorry that he is dead, 
 because he will be always mine. He smiles, you 
 see. He knows it. He does not want you, be 
 cause you cannot please him now that his eyes are 
 shut so fast. He does not want you now. Go 
 away, Katharine Lauderdale. Walter does not 
 want you." 
 
 There was no rising intonation in the voice that 
 spoke, no emphasis, no authority. But the calm, 
 unchanging tone was far more terrifying than any 
 passionate outburst could have been. Katharine 
 shrank back, and then stood still a moment. 
 
THE R ALSTONS. 309 
 
 "Why do you stay?" asked the voice. "We 
 hate you. Go away. You see that we want to be 
 alone together. We do not want you." 
 
 Katharine felt herself growing white with the 
 horror of it all. She bowed her head in silence 
 and went to the door, turning a moment to look 
 back as her hand was on the spring. She felt as 
 though she were in some mysterious tomb of 
 ancient days, where the living and the dead were 
 buried together the rigid dead upon his couch, 
 the living beside him, flexible, mad, dangerous with 
 the overstrain of an incredible, inexpressible grief. 
 
 The dark figure stood erect with dropped and 
 folded hands. The white face stood out lumi 
 nously pale against the grey smoke-clouds of the 
 incense and myrrh, the yellow flaming candles 
 flickered still from the draught of Katharine s 
 dress as she had passed and threw an uncertain, 
 moving light upon the motionless mask of the 
 ^ead man. 
 
 " Leave us alone together. We want to be alone 
 together. Go away and never come back to us 
 again." 
 
 Katharine was going, but her terror suddenly 
 overcame her, and she opened the door, went out, 
 and closed it behind her in a flash, gasping for a 
 breath of unscented air. She reeled as she came 
 out, under the clear daylight of the glass roof 
 which covered the staircase, and she steadied her- 
 
310 THE ^ALSTONS. 
 
 self against the door-post, stupidly staring at the 
 tapestry on the opposite wall. She felt sick and 
 faint, and for a moment she knew that she could not 
 get downstairs without falling. She felt that she 
 was full of the perfume-loaded air she had breathed, 
 that it clung to her like a blanket, and hindered 
 her from drawing a full breath. She raised her 
 left arm to her face mechanically, and smelled it. 
 The stuff was full of the incense, and she threw 
 her head back with parted lips, to draw in fresh 
 ness if she could. 
 
 She was so strong that she did not faint, but 
 stood erect against the door-post until she could 
 trust herself to walk. She listened at the door for 
 a moment to hear whether the mad woman were 
 still talking over her dead husband, or whether, 
 perhaps, the madness had suddenly yielded to the 
 merciful tide of tears. But there was no sound. 
 They were alone together, as Hester had said that 
 they wished to be. 
 
 Katharine pressed her hand to her eyes with all 
 her might, as though to crush out the memory of 
 what she had seen. Then she went forward at 
 last, and began to go down the stairs. 
 
 She heard a man s footstep, swift, nervous and 
 strong, coming up from below, and as she reached 
 the first landing she came face to face with Paul 
 Griggs. His Aveather-beaten face was so grey and 
 drawn that she should hardly have known him in 
 
THE EALSTONS. 311 
 
 a crowd, and the weary, dark eyes that met hers had 
 something in them which she could not understand. 
 He stood aside to let her pass, but would have said 
 nothing had she not spoken. 
 
 " She s alone with him, up there," she said in 
 a sort of scared whisper. "She s going mad it s 
 dreadful." 
 
 Griggs looked as though he would have gone 
 on without answering, though he did not actually 
 make a step. His dark eyes were dull and glassy, 
 and his jaws were set, as though he were in great 
 pain. 
 
 " Can t you do something for her ? " asked 
 Katharine, hesitating. " Shouldn t we send for 
 Doctor Kouth ? He might give her something." 
 
 She made the suggestion vaguely, as women do. 
 There is something pathetic about their blind faith 
 in medicine, though they may have seen it fail 
 a hundred times. 
 
 "If you like," answered Griggs, in a far-away 
 tone, as though he scarcely knew what she was 
 saying. "Send for him if you like. I don t 
 care." 
 
 Katharine stared at him in surprise. He was 
 sometimes a little absent-minded, but she could 
 not understand his being so at that moment. She 
 laid her left hand upon his arm with a gesture half 
 of appeal, half of authority. 
 
 "Something must be done," she said. " She s 
 
312 THE RALSTONS. 
 
 really going mad. She mustn t be left alone with 
 it any longer." 
 
 " I don t think she ll go mad," Griggs answered. 
 " But I shall," he added, with an unnatural smile, 
 which recalled Hester s. 
 
 "You!" exclaimed Katharine, in a sudden as 
 tonishment which made her forget everything else 
 for an instant. " Why ? I know you liked him " 
 
 " Liked him ! " repeated Paul Griggs, in a voice 
 that was almost loud, and the dull eyes flashed for 
 a moment, and then became glassy again. " I can t 
 talk now," he said, rapidly. "Forgive me I 
 can t stop ! " 
 
 Without waiting for her to go down, he sprang 
 up the stairs. Katharine looked after him with 
 wonder. A moment later she heard the door of 
 the studio open and shut quickly, and she was sure 
 that she heard one word, r name Walter 
 spoken in the broken accent of a man s despair. 
 
 Again she paused before she went downstairs, 
 and hesitated, not as to what she should do, but as 
 to what she should think. At least, she felt that 
 her friend Griggs was not without heart, whatever 
 the true ground of his extraordinary emotion might 
 be. She had stumbled upon one of those mysteries 
 which lie so near the dull surface of society around 
 us, and had seen a human soul at that moment of 
 all others when it would not have been seen. As 
 she thought of it, she felt at the same moment the 
 
THE R ALSTONS. 313 
 
 instinct to tell no one, not even Ralston, of the few 
 words she had exchanged with Griggs on the stairs. 
 The resolution formed itself in her mind uninten 
 tionally, as a natural prompting of honour against 
 the betrayal of a secret accidentally learned. What 
 the secret could be she could not guess, and it was 
 long before she knew, but she did not break the 
 promise which had formulated and pledged itself. 
 Long afterwards, when she learned the strange 
 story of Griggs life, which no one had ever sus 
 pected, she wondered that on that day he had not 
 killed her with his hands rather than be delayed 
 the smallest fraction of an instant on his way up 
 those stairs. In his place, woman as she was, she 
 would have been less merciful, and she would not 
 have been courteous at all. 
 
 But she knew nothing of the wanderer s exist 
 ence, save that he had of late strayed into her own, 
 and that he had seemed oddly attached to a man 
 who was almost universally disliked without any 
 well-defined reason. Her intuition told her that he 
 had something to conceal, and her faith in him, such 
 as it was, led her to believe that it was something 
 not wrong, but sacred almost beyond anything 
 imaginable. 
 
 She went quietly downstairs, and many things 
 happened to her, good and bad, before she saw the 
 face of Paul Griggs again. She found her mother 
 and Mrs. Bright sitting side by side, and aunt 
 
314 THE liALSTONS. 
 
 Maggie was holding Mrs. Lauderdale s hand, and 
 admiring her bonnet. A death which does not 
 come too near to ^them draws certain types of 
 women together. As Katharine entered the room 
 and saw the two together, she wondered whether 
 the death of Walter Crowdie was to have the effect 
 of reconciling the Lauderdales and the Brights. 
 
 " Well, child, have you seen her ? " asked Katha 
 rine s mother, with a considerable show of interest. 
 
CHAPTER XXXV. 
 
 "PEOPLE don t often really go mad from grief/ 
 said Mrs. Lauderdale, as she and Katharine walked 
 slowly homeward in the bright spring afternoon. 
 "I shouldn t be surprised if Hester married again 
 in a few years. Not very soon, of course but in 
 time. She s very young yet. She ll be very young 
 still in five years for a widow." 
 
 " I don t think she can ever get over it," an 
 swered Katharine, rather coldly, being displeased 
 at her mother s careless way of speaking. 
 
 "It s a mistake to take things too hard," said 
 the elder woman. "And it s a great mistake to 
 underrate time. A great many curious things can 
 happen to one in five years." 
 
 Katharine was not in search of unbelief, nor of 
 encouragement in not believing that human nature 
 could really feel. Her faith in it had been terri 
 bly undermined during the past winter, and she 
 had just been with two persons, Hester Crowdie 
 and Paul Griggs, whose behaviour had at least 
 tended to restore it. She did not wish the recu 
 perative effort of her charity towards mankind to 
 315 
 
316 THE BALSTONS. 
 
 be checked. So she did not argue the point, but 
 walked on in silence. 
 
 She had not recovered, and could not recover for 
 many days, from the impression produced upon her 
 by the ghastly scene in the studio. Her young 
 vitality abhorred death, and its contrary and hostile 
 principle, and when she thought of what she had 
 seen, she felt the same sickening, shrinking horror 
 which had led her to hold back her skirt from any 
 possible contact with the carpet on which Crowdie s 
 body had been lying. She might have been will 
 ing to admit that her mother, who had seen noth 
 ing, but had sat downstairs talking with the 
 comfortable, fat and refined aunt Maggie, was 
 not called upon to feel what she herself felt after 
 going through such a strange experience. But 
 since her mother felt nothing, her mother could 
 not understand ; and if she could not understand- it 
 was better to walk on in silence and to make her 
 hasten her indolent, graceful steps. 
 
 In reality, Mrs. Lauderdale was much more pre 
 occupied about the possibilities of the second will 
 turning out to be favourable to her husband or the 
 contrary, and her preoccupation was not at all 
 sordid, though it was by no means unselfish. She 
 was anxious about him, in her unobtrusive, calm 
 way. He talked of money in his sleep, as she 
 had told Katharine, and he was growing nervous. 
 She had even noticed once or twice of late that his 
 
THE RALSTONS. 317 
 
 hand shook a little as he held the morning paper after 
 breakfast, during the ten minutes which he devoted 
 to its perusal. That was a bad sign, she thought, 
 for a man who had been famous for his good nerve, 
 and who had been known all his life as an unerring 
 shot. She did not like to think what consequences 
 a great disappointment might have upon his tem 
 per, which had shown itself so frequently of late, 
 after nearly a quarter of a century of comparative 
 quiescence. Nor was it pleasant to contemplate 
 the new means of economy which he would cer 
 tainly introduce into his household if by any evil 
 chance he got no share of the Lauderdale fortune. 
 But that, she told herself, was impossible, as indeed 
 it seemed to be. 
 
 It was of no use to be in a hurry, she told Katha 
 rine, as they had at least an hour to get rid of 
 before the time at which Mr. Allen was to be 
 expected. The Balstons and Hamilton Bright 
 would only come a few minutes earlier. Every one 
 would understand how unpleasant it might be to 
 be shut up together in such suspense for half an 
 hour before the truth could be known each hop 
 ing to get the other s money, as Mrs. Lauderdale 
 observed with a little laugh that had hardly any 
 cruelty in it. But, of course, nobody would be 
 late on such an occasion. There was no fear of 
 that. And she laughed again, and stepped grace 
 fully aside on the pavement to let a boy with a big 
 bundle go by. 
 
318 THE EALSTONS. 
 
 She had not been deceived in her calculations, 
 for there was still plenty of time to spare when they 
 reached the house in Clinton Place. Katharine 
 disappeared to her room, glad to be alone at last. 
 There was a hushed expectation in the air of the 
 house, which reminded her of the place she had 
 just left, but she herself felt not the smallest inter 
 est in the will. So far as she was concerned, she 
 was perfectly well satisfied with the course taken 
 by the law, independently of any will at all. 
 
 The Kalstons and Hamilton Bright came almost 
 at the same moment, though not together, and 
 Katharine had no chance of exchanging a word 
 with John out of hearing of the rest. They all 
 met in the library. The old philanthropist was 
 there, and every one was secretly surprised to dis 
 cover what a very fine-looking old man he was in a 
 perfectly new frock coat with a great deal of silk 
 in front. But his heavy, shapeless shoes betrayed 
 his lingering attachment to the little Italian shoe 
 maker in South Fifth Avenue, whose conscien 
 tiously durable works promised to outlast old 
 Alexander s need for them. 
 
 Alexander Junior stood before the empty fire 
 place, coldly nervous. He could not have sat still 
 for five minutes just then. When he spoke of 
 Crowdie s death to Hamilton Bright, and immedi 
 ately afterwards of the weather, his steel-trap 
 mouth opened and closed mechanically, emitting 
 
THE EALSTONS. 319 
 
 metallic sounds it could not be called speaking 
 and his glittering grey eyes went restlessly 
 from the window to the door and back again, with 
 out even resting on Bright s face. 
 
 Bright himself was grave, manly, quiet, as he 
 generally was. He was eminently the man who 
 could be reckoned with and counted upon. He 
 would make no attempt to conceal his disappoint 
 ment if he were disappointed, nor his satisfaction 
 if he were pleased, but the expression of either 
 would be simple, quiet and manly, with few words, 
 if any. 
 
 Mrs. Ralston watched the two as they stood side 
 by side. From her position on the sofa she could 
 see Alexander Junior s hands twitching nervously 
 behind him. But she was talking with Mrs. Lau- 
 derdale at the same time. She made no pretence 
 of being very sorry to hear of Crowdie s sudden 
 death. She rarely saw him and she had never 
 liked him. To her, he was merely the husband 
 of a very distant cousin of a descendant of her 
 great-grandfather through a female branch. It 
 was too much to expect that she should be pro 
 foundly affected by what had happened. But her 
 dark, clearly cut features were grave, and there 
 was a certain expectancy in her look, which showed 
 that she was not really indifferent to the nature 
 of the events momentarily expected. She admitted 
 frankly GO herself that it would make an enormous 
 
320 THE RALSTONS. 
 
 difference in her future happiness to be very rich 
 instead of being almost poor, and she had told her 
 son so as they came to the house. 
 
 John was trying to talk to Katharine near the 
 window, but he found it impossible to shake off 
 Alexander Senior, whose fondness for his favourite 
 granddaughter was proverbial in the family. The 
 old gentleman stood by, approvingly, and insisted 
 upon leading the conversation which, with old- 
 fashioned grandfatherly wit or what passed for 
 wit in the families of our grandfathers he con 
 stantly directed upon the subject of matrimony, 
 with an elephantine sprightliness most irritating to 
 John Ralston, though Katharine bore it with in 
 different serenity, and smiled when the old man 
 looked at her, her features growing grave again as 
 soon as he turned to John. She could not shake 
 off the terrible impression she had brought with 
 her, and yet she longed to explain to John why 
 she felt and looked so sad. She, also, glanced often 
 at the door. The arrival of the family lawyer 
 would put a stop to her grandfather s playful per 
 secution of her, and give her a chance to say three- 
 words to John without being overheard. 
 
 Ralston stood ready, knowing that she wished 
 to speak to him alone, and he paid little attention 
 to Alexander Senior s jokes. He glanced about 
 the room and said to himself that the members of 
 the Lauderdale tribe were a very good-looking set, 
 
THE RALSTONS. 321 
 
 from first to last. He was proud of his family 
 just then, for he had rarely seen so many of them 
 assembled together without the presence of any 
 stranger, and he was most proud of Katharine s 
 beauty. Pallor was becoming to her, for hers 
 was fresh and clear and youthful. It ruined her 
 mother s looks to be pale, especially of late, since 
 the imperceptible lines had been drawn into very 
 fine but clearly discernible wrinkles. Mrs. Lauder- 
 dale had told herself with tears that they were 
 really wrinkles, but she would have been sorry to 
 know that John, or any one else, called them by 
 that name. 
 
 At last the lawyer came, and there was a dead 
 silence as he entered a tall, lantern-jawed man, 
 clean shaven, almost bald, with prominent yellow 
 teeth, over which his mobile lips fitted as though 
 they had been made of shrivelled pink indiarubber. 
 He had very light blue eyes and bushy brows that 
 stood out in contrast to his bald scalp and beard 
 less face like a few shaggy firs that have survived 
 the destruction of a forest. 
 
 He spoke in an impressive manner, for he was 
 deaf, emphasizing almost every word in every 
 sentence. He was a New Englander by birth, as 
 keen and provincial in New York as ever was a 
 Scotchman in London. 
 
 Having been duly welcomed, and provided with 
 a seat in the midst of the assembled tribe, he 
 
 VOL. II. 21 
 
322 THE K ALSTONS. 
 
 leisurely produced a pair of gold-rimmed glasses 
 and a handkerchief, and proceeded to the operation 
 of polishing the one with the other. He was 
 provokingly slow. His chair was placed so that 
 he sat with his back to the window, facing Mrs. 
 Lauderdale and Mrs. Ralston, who occupied the 
 sofa 011 the right of the fireplace. The two 
 Alexanders and Bright completed the circle, while 
 Katharine and John placed themselves behind the 
 lawyer. John could see over his shoulder. 
 
 Not a word was spoken while Mr. Allen made 
 his careful preparations. It could hardly be sup 
 posed that he had any traditional remnant of the 
 old-fashioned attorney s vanity, which made him 
 anxious to produce an effect by taking as long as 
 possible in settling himself to his work. He was 
 simply a leisurely man, who had been born before 
 the days of hurry, and was living to see hurry 
 considered as an obsolete affectation, no longer 
 necessary, and no longer the fashion. There is 
 haste in some things, still, in New York, but not 
 the haste that we of the generation in middle age 
 remember when we were young men. Mr. Allen, 
 however, had never been hasty ; and he found 
 himself fashionable in his old age, as he had been 
 in his youth, long before the civil war. 
 
 When his glasses were fairly pinching the lower 
 part of his thin grey nose, he thrust one bony hand 
 into his breast-pocket, leaning forward as he did 
 
THE R ALSTONS. 323 
 
 so, and quietly scanning the faces of his audience, 
 one after the other. He was so very slow that 
 John and Katharine looked at one another and 
 smiled. From his pocket he brought out a great 
 bundle of papers and letters, and calmly pro 
 ceeded to look through them from the beginning, 
 in search of what he wanted. Of course, the big 
 blue envelope was the last of a number of big blue 
 envelopes, and the last but one of all the papers. 
 
 "This is it, I think," said Mr. Allen, with 
 dignity and caution. 
 
 The two elder women drew two short little 
 breaths of expectation, sat forward a little, and 
 then thoughtfully smoothed their frocks over their 
 knees. Alexander Junior s knuckles cracked au 
 dibly, as he silently twined his lingers round one 
 another, and pulled at them in his anxiety. Ham 
 ilton Bright uncrossed his legs, and recrossed them 
 in the opposite way. Katharine sighed. She was 
 tired of it all, before it had begun. 
 
 " Yes," said Mr. Allen, with even more dignity, 
 but with less caution in making the assertion, " I 
 believe this is it." 
 
 " Thank the Lord ! " exclaimed John Ralston 
 from behind the lawyer, who was deaf. 
 
 Mrs. Ralston smiled a little, and avoided her 
 son s eyes. Hamilton Bright looked absolutely 
 impassive. 
 
 "You all see what it is," said Mr. Allen. "It 
 
324 THE RALSTONS. 
 
 is a large blue envelope, gummed without a seal, 
 marked Will, in a handwriting which may be 
 that of the late Mr. Lauderdale, though I should 
 not be prepared to swear to it, and dated March 
 of this year. It is reasonable to suppose that it 
 contains a will made in that month, and therefore 
 prior to the one of which we have knowledge. 
 Mr. Lauderdale " he turned to Alexander Senior 
 "and you, Mrs. Ralston with your consent, I 
 will open this document in your presence." 
 
 " By all means open it," said Alexander 
 Junior, with evident impatience. 
 
 "Certainly, certainly, Mr. Allen," said his father. 
 "That s what we expect." 
 
 Mrs. Ralston contented herself with nodding 
 her assent, when the lawyer looked at her. He 
 searched for a penknife in his pocket, found it, 
 opened it, and with infinite care slit the envelope 
 from end to end. After carefully shutting the 
 knife, and returning it to his pocket again, he 
 withdrew a thick, folded sheet of heavy foolscap. 
 As he did so, a smaller piece of paper, folded only 
 once, fluttered to the ground at his feet. It might 
 have been a note of old Robert Lauderdale s, ex 
 pressing some particular last wish of such a nature 
 as not to have found its proper place in a docu 
 ment of such importance as the will itself. The 
 eyes of every one being intent upon the latter, as 
 Mr. Allen opened it, no one paid any attention 
 to the bit of paper. 
 
THE EALSTONS. 32f) 
 
 Mr. Allen was old and formal, and he had no 
 intention of bestowing a preliminary glance at the 
 contents of the paper before reading it. He began 
 at the beginning, for the first words proved it to 
 be a will, and nothing else. It began, as many 
 American wills do, with the words, " In the name 
 of God. Amen." Then followed the clause re 
 voking all previous wills, each and every one of 
 them ; and then the other, relating to the payment 
 of just debts and funeral expenses. Then Mr. 
 Allen paused, and drew breath. 
 
 The tension in the atmosphere of the room was 
 high, at that moment of supreme anxiety. 
 
 " l It is my purpose, " Mr. Allen read, " * to so 
 distribute the wealth which has accumulated in 
 my hands as to distribute it amongst those of my 
 fellow creatures who stand most directly in need 
 of such help 
 
 There was a general movement in the circle. 
 Everybody started. Alexander Junior s hands 
 dropped by his sides, and his steel-trap mouth 
 relaxed and opened. 
 
 " Go on ! " he said, breathlessly. 
 
 Mr. Allen went on, shaking his head from time 
 to time, as his only expression of overwhelming 
 stupefaction. It was by far the most extraor 
 dinary will he had ever seen; but it was legally 
 and properly worded, with endlessly long, un- 
 punctuated sentences, all of which tended to eluci- 
 
326 THE RALSTONS. 
 
 date the already sufficiently clear meaning. In 
 half-a-dozen words, it is sufficient to say that the 
 will constituted the whole fortune, without lega 
 cies, and without mention of heirs or relatives, 
 into a gigantic trust, to be managed, for the final 
 extinction of poverty in the city of New York, by 
 a board of trustees, to exist in perpetuity. Many 
 conditions were imposed, and many possible cases 
 foreseen. There were elaborate rules for filling 
 vacancies in the trusteeship, and many other 
 clauses necessary for the administration of such a 
 vast charitable foundation, all carefully thought 
 out and clearly stated. The perspiration stood 
 upon the old lawyer s astonished head, as he con 
 tinued to read. 
 
 Alexander Junior seemed to be absolutely para 
 lyzed, and stared like a man distracted, who sees 
 nothing, with wide-open eyes. Even Mrs. Ralston 
 bent her dark brows, and bit her even lips, in dis 
 appointment. Hamilton Bright bent down, leaning 
 his elbows upon his knees, and looked at the fourth 
 page of the vast sheet of closely written foolscap. 
 
 " We re a pack of fools ! " he exclaimed, sud 
 denly. " The will isn t signed." 
 
 Alexander Junior uttered a loud exclamation, 
 sprang to his feet, and snatched the will from the 
 lawyer s hand so roughly as to brush the gold- 
 rimmed glasses from his thin nose, on which they 
 had pinched their unsteady hold, and they fell to 
 the ground. 
 
THE EALSTONS. 327 
 
 " Eh ? What ? " he asked, very much disturbed 
 by such rude interruption. 
 
 Alexander had turned to the end, and had seen 
 that it was a blank, without signatures either of 
 testator or witnesses. 
 
 "Thank God!" he exclaimed, fervently, as he 
 dropped back into his chair. "That almost killed 
 me," he added in a low voice, regardless of the 
 others. 
 
 But no one paid much attention to him. Ham 
 ilton Bright remained impassive. Each of the 
 others uttered an exclamation, or breathed a sigh 
 of relief. For some minutes afterwards there was 
 a dead silence. 
 
 Mr. Allen was fumbling on the floor for his gold- 
 rimmed glasses, still very much confused. They 
 had managed to get under the low chair in which 
 he sat, and which had a long fringe on it, reaching 
 almost to the ground, so that he took some time in 
 finding them. 
 
 " Of course he would never have signed such a 
 thing ! " said Hamilton Bright, with emphasis. 
 " He had too much sense." 
 
 " I should think so ! " exclaimed Mrs. Lauder- 
 dale. " The only thing I can t understand is how 
 it ever was kept and marked l Will/ " 
 
 " Uncle Robert once told me that he had often 
 made sketches of wills leaving all his money in 
 trust to the poor," said Katharine. "He never 
 
328 THE R ALSTONS. 
 
 meant to sign one, though. This must be one of 
 them of course it can t be anything else ! " 
 
 "His secretary probably put it away, supposing 
 he wanted to keep it," said Ralston, from behind 
 Mr. Allen. " Then he forgot all about it, and so it 
 turned up among the papers. It s simple enough." 
 
 " Oh, quite simple ! " assented Alexander Junior, 
 with a half-hysterical laugh. 
 
 Mrs. Ralston was watching the lawyer as he felt 
 for his glasses on the carpet. He paused, wiped 
 his brow for it was a warm afternoon, and he 
 had been nervously excited himself in reading the 
 document. Then he continued his search. 
 
 " There s a bit of paper there on the floor, beside 
 your hand," said Mrs. Ralston. " I saw it drop 
 when you opened the envelope. Perhaps it s some 
 thing more important." 
 
 Mr. Allen recovered his glasses at that moment, 
 and with the other hand took up the little folded 
 sheet. With the utmost care and precision he 
 went through the same preparations for reading 
 which had been indispensable on the first occasion. 
 
 " Let us see, let us see," he said. " This is 
 something. < I hereby certify/ oh, an old mar 
 riage certificate of yours, Mrs. Ralston. John 
 Ralston and Katharine Lauderdale married 
 dear me ! I don t understand ! This year, too ! 
 This is very strange." 
 
 Again every one present started, but with very 
 
THE RALSTONS. 329 
 
 different expressions. Hamilton Bright grew 
 slowly red. There was a short pause. Then John 
 Ealston rose to his feet and bent over Mr. Allen s 
 shoulder. 
 
 " It s our certificate," he said, quietly. " Katha 
 rine s and mine. We were married last winter." 
 
 And he took the paper from the hands, of the 
 wondering lawyer, and held it in his own. 
 
 "Katharine!" cried Mrs. Lauderdale, when she 
 had realized the meaning of Ralston s words. 
 
 " Katharine ! " cried Alexander Junior, almost 
 at the same moment. 
 
 At any other time some one of all those present 
 might have smiled at the difference in intona 
 tion between Mrs. Lauderdale s cry of unmixed 
 astonishment, and her husband s deprecatory but 
 forgiving utterance of his daughter s name. Both 
 conveyed, in widely differing ways, as much as 
 whole phrases could have told, namely, that Mrs. 
 Lauderdale was sincerely pleased, in spite of all 
 her former opposition to the marriage, and that her 
 husband, while he would much rather have his 
 daughter married to Ralston secretly than not at 
 all, felt that his dignity and parental authority 
 had been outraged, and that he would be glad to 
 have an apology, if any were to be had, of which 
 condition his voice also expressed a doubt. 
 
 " I ll tell you all about it, from the beginning," 
 said John Ralston. 
 
330 THE EALSTONS. 
 
 He told the story in as few words as he could, 
 omitting, as he had done in. telling his mother, to 
 give Katharine her fnll share of responsibility. 
 She bent far forward in her seat while he was 
 speaking, and leaned npon the back of Mr. Allen s 
 chair, never taking her eyes from her husband s 
 face. More than once her eyes brightened with 
 a sort of affectionate indignation, and her lips 
 parted as though she would speak. But she did 
 not interrupt him. When he had finished he stood 
 still in his place, looking at his father-in-law, and 
 still holding the certificate of his marriage in his 
 hand. 
 
 Alexander Junior would have found it hard to 
 be angry just at that moment. He had his desire. 
 In the course of five minutes he had been cast 
 down from a position of enormous wealth and 
 power, since there could be no question but that 
 the half of the great estate would really be in his 
 control if there were no will ; he had been plunged 
 into such a depth of despair as only the real miser 
 can understand when his hundreds or his millions, 
 as the case may be, are swept out of sight and out 
 of reach by a breath ; and he had been restored to 
 the pinnacle of happiness again, almost before 
 there had been time to make his suffering seem 
 more than the passing vision of a hideous dream. 
 Moreover, the marriage being already accomplished 
 and a matter of fact, made it a positive certainty 
 
THE RALSTONS. 331 
 
 that all that part of the fortune which belonged to 
 the Ralstons would return to his own grandchil 
 dren. His outraged sense of parental importance 
 was virtuously, but silently, indignant, and he 
 admitted that, on the whole, the causes of satisfac 
 tion outnumbered any reasons there might be for 
 displeasure. Something, however, must be done to 
 propitiate the prejudices of the world, which had 
 much force with him. 
 
 u I think we d better all go into the country as 
 soon as possible," he observed, thinking aloud. 
 
 But no one heard him, for Katharine had risen 
 and come forward and stood beside her husband, 
 slipping her arm through his, and invisibly press 
 ing him to her unconsciously, too, perhaps 
 whenever she wished to emphasize a word in what 
 she said. 
 
 " I want to say something," she began, raising 
 her voice. "It s all my fault, you know. I did it. 
 I persuaded Jack one evening, here in this very 
 room and it was awfully hard to persuade him, 
 I assure you ! He didn t like it in the least. He 
 said it wasn t a perfectly fair and honest thing to 
 do. But I made him see it differently. I m not 
 sure that I was right. You see, we should have 
 been married, anyway, as it s turned out, because 
 papa s been so nice about it in the end. That s all 
 I wanted to say." 
 
 There was probably no malice in her diplomatic 
 
332 THE RALSTONS. 
 
 allusion to her father. The only person who 
 smiled at it was Mrs. Ralston. 
 
 " Except," added Katharine, by an afterthought, 
 "that the reason why we did it was because we 
 wanted to be sure of getting each other in the end." 
 
 "Well," said Hamilton Bright, who was very 
 red, " I suppose the next thing to do is to congrat 
 ulate you, isn t it ? Here goes. Jack, I m sorry 
 I slated secret marriages the other day. You see, 
 one doesn t always know." 
 
 "No," observed Mrs. Lauderdale, who had her 
 arms around her daughter s neck. " One doesn t 
 as Ham says." 
 
 "That s all right, Ham," said John Ralston. 
 "I didn t mind a bit." 
 
 But Hamilton Bright minded very much, in his 
 quiet way, for he had played a losing game of late, 
 and the same hour had deprived him of all hope 
 of marrying Katharine, faint as it had been since 
 she had so definitely refused him, and of all pros 
 pect of ever getting a share of the Lauderdale 
 fortune. But he was a very brave man, and better 
 able than most of those present to bear such mis 
 fortunes as fell to his lot. As for marrying, he 
 put it out of his thoughts ; and so far as fortune 
 was concerned, he was prosperous and successful in 
 all that he undertook to do himself, unaided, which 
 is, after all, the most satisfactory success a man 
 can have in the long run. The right to say I did 
 
THE EALSTONS. 333 
 
 it alone compensates for many fancied and real 
 wrongs. And that was something which Hamilton 
 Bright had very often been able to say with truth. 
 But his love for Katharine Lauderdale had been 
 honest, enduring and generally silent. Never had 
 he spoken to her of love until he had fancied that 
 his friend John Ralston had no intention, nor she, 
 either, of anything serious. 
 
 It was with the consent and approval of all her 
 family that Katharine entered upon her married 
 life at last, after having been secretly and in name 
 the wedded wife of John Ralston for more than five 
 months. The world thought it not extraordinary 
 that there should be no public ceremony, consider 
 ing the recent decease of Robert Lauderdale and 
 the shockingly sudden death of Walter Crowdie. 
 The Lauderdales, said the world, had shown good 
 taste, for many reasons, in having a private wed 
 ding. Having always lived quietly, it would have 
 been unbecoming in them to invite society to a 
 marriage of royal splendour, when he who had left 
 them their twealth had not been dead two months. 
 On the other hand, the union of forty millions 
 with twenty could hardly have been decently ac 
 complished by means of two carriages from the 
 livery stable and a man from the greengrocer s. 
 The world, therefore, said that the Lauderdales 
 and the Ralstons had done perfectly right, a fact 
 which pleased some members of the tribe and was 
 
334 THE EALSTONS. 
 
 indifferent to others. The only connections who 
 were heard to complain at all were the three Miss 
 Miners, whose old-maidenly souls delighted in 
 weddings and found refreshment in funerals. 
 
 And the only person whom Katharine missed, 
 and cared to miss, amongst all those who congrat 
 ulated her was Paul Griggs. She did not see him, 
 after they had met 011 the stairs of the house in 
 Lafayette Place, for a long time. During the 
 summer which followed the announcement of her 
 marriage, she heard that he was in the East again 
 a vague term applied to Cairo, Constantinople 
 and Calcutta. At all events, he was not in New 
 York, but had taken his weary eyes and weather- 
 beaten face to some remote region of the earth, 
 and gave no further sign of life for some time, 
 though a book which he had written before 
 Crowdie s death appeared soon after his departure. 
 Katharine received one letter from him during the 
 summer a rather formal letter of congratulation 
 upon her marriage, and bearing a postmark in 
 Cyrillic characters, though the stamp was not 
 Russian, but one she had never seen. 
 
 Here ends an act of Katharine s life-comedy, 
 and the chronicler leaves her with her beauty, her 
 virtues and her imperfections to the judgment of 
 that one reader, if perchance there be even one, 
 
THE RALSTON 8. 335 
 
 who has had the patience to follow her so far, 
 with little entertainment and no advantage to 
 himself. And to that one reader an ideal crea 
 tion of the chronicler s mind, having no founda 
 tion in his experience of humanity the said 
 chronicler makes apology for all that has been 
 amiss in the telling of the events recorded, con 
 scious that a better man could have done it better, 
 and that better men are plentiful, but stout in as 
 serting that the events were not, in themselves and 
 in reality, without interest, however poorly they 
 have been narrated. 
 
 Moral, there is none, nor purpose, save to please ; 
 and if any one be pleased, the writer has his reward. 
 But besides moral and purpose in things done with 
 ink and paper, there is consequence to be consid 
 ered, or at least to be taken into account. In real 
 life we take more thought of that than of anything 
 else ; for, consciously or unconsciously, man hardly 
 performs any action, however insignificant, without 
 .intention and intention is the hope of conse 
 quence. 
 
 All that happened to Katharine Lauderdale, and 
 all that she caused to happen by her own will, had 
 an effect upon her existence afterwards. She was 
 entering upon married life with a much more 
 varied experience than most young women of her 
 age. She had been brought into direct and close 
 relation with people influenced by some of the 
 
336 THE BALSTONS. 
 
 strongest passions that can rouse the heart. She 
 had been hated by those who had loved her, and 
 for little or no fault of hers. She had seen envy 
 standing in the high place of a mother s love, and 
 she had seen the friendship of her girlhood de 
 stroyed by unreasoning jealousy. Above all, she 
 had known the base hardness and the revolting 
 cruelty which the love of money could implant in 
 an otherwise upright nature. The persons with 
 whom she had to do were not of the kind to commit 
 crimes, but in her view there was something worse, 
 if possible, than crime in some of the things they 
 had done. 
 
 So much for the evil by which she had passed. 
 For the good, she had love, good love, pure love, 
 honest love the sort of love that may last a life 
 time. And if love can weather life it need not 
 fear the whirlpool of death, nor the quicksands of 
 the uncertain shore beyond. It is life that kills 
 love not death. 
 
 Therefore, as the chronicler closes his book and 
 offers it to his single long-suffering reader, he says 
 that more remains to be told of Katharine and of 
 the men and women among whom she lived; 
 namely, the consequences of her girlhood in her 
 married life. 
 
 THE END. 
 
KATHARINE LAUDERDALE. 
 
 By F. MARION CRAWFORD, 
 
 AUTHOR OF " SARACINESCA," " PIETRO GHISLERI," ETC. 
 
 WITH ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 Two Volumes, Bound in Polished Buckram, in Box, 8&/J.OO. 
 
 The first of a series of novels dealing with New York life. 
 
 " Katharine Lauderdale is essentially a dramatic novel, possessing the 
 unity of time and place and of action. ... It is a love story, pure and sim 
 ple, with no straining after the moral that Mr. Crawford so denounces. . . . 
 Katharine Laiiderdnif is a thoroughly artistic novel. The characters are 
 boldly drawn ; even tho>c <,f minor importance are vivid and real." Louis 
 ville Evening Post. 
 
 " While it is a love story, it is much more. It is an accurate picture of 
 certain circles of New York society to-day, and in the analyses of character 
 and motive Mr. Crawford has done nothing better than this book gives 
 us. . . . Mr. Crawford is always happy in his sense of locality, and the 
 familiar scenes of Washington Park, Clinton Place, and Lafayette Place are 
 brought distinctly before the reader." Living Church. 
 
 " It is exceedingly interesting." Congregationalist. 
 
 " Mr. Crawford at his best is a great novelist, and in Katharine Lauder- 
 dale we have him at his best." - Boston Daily Advertiser. 
 
 "A most admirable novel, excellent in style, flashing with humor, and 
 full of the ripest and wisest reflections upon men and women." The West 
 minster Gazette. 
 
 " It is the first time, we think, in American fiction that any such breadth 
 of view has shown itself in the study of our social framework." Life. 
 
 " Admirable in its simple pathos, its enforced humor, and, above all, in 
 its truths to human nature. . . . There is not a tedious page or paragraph 
 in it." Punch. 
 
 " It need scarcely be said that the story is skilfully and picturesquely 
 written, portraying sharply individual characters in well-defined surround 
 ings." New York Commercial Advertiser. 
 
 " Katharine Lauderdale is a tale of New York, and is up to the highest 
 level of his work. In some respects it will probably be regarded as his best. 
 None of his works, with the exception of Mr. Isaacs, show so clearly his 
 skill as a literary artist." San Francisco Evening Bulletin. 
 
 THE MACMILLAN COMPANY, 
 
 66 FIFTH AVENUE, NEW YORK. 
 
F. Marion Crawford s Novels. 
 
 NEW UNIFORM EDITION. 
 
 12mo. Cloth. Sl.OO each. 
 
 SARACINESCA. 
 
 " The work has two distinct merits, either of which would serve to make 
 it great, that of telling a perfect story in a perfect way, and of giving a 
 graphic picture of Roman society in the last days of the Pope s temporal 
 power. . . . The story is exquisitely told." Boston Traveller. 
 
 SANT 9 ILARIO. 
 
 A Sequel to SARACINESCA. 
 
 " A singularly powerful and beautiful story. ... It fulfils every require 
 ment of artistic fiction. It brings out what is most impressive in human 
 action, without owing any of its effectiveness to sensationalism or artifice. 
 It is natural, fluent in evolution, accordant with experience, graphic in 
 description, penetrating in analysis, and absorbing in interest." New York 
 Tribune. 
 
 DON ORSINO. 
 
 A Sequel to SAItACTNESCA and SANT IT. AUTO. 
 
 " Perhaps the cleverest novel of the year. . . . There is not a Hull para 
 graph in the book, and the reader may be assured that once begun, the story 
 of Don Orsino will fascinate him until its close." The Critic. 
 
 PIETRO CHISLERI. 
 
 " The imaginative richness, the marvellous ingenu ty of plot, the power 
 and subtlety of the portrayal of character, the charm of the romantic envi 
 ronment, the entire atmosphere, indeed, rank this novel at once among 
 the grent creations." The Boston Budget. 
 
 A TALE OF A LONELY PARISH. 
 
 " It is a pleasure to have anything so perfect of its kind as this brief and 
 vivid story. ... It is doubly a success, being full of human sympathy, as 
 well as thoroughly artistic in its nice balancing of the unusual with the com 
 monplace, the clever juxtaposition of innocence and guilt, comedy and 
 tragedy, simplicity and intrigue." Critic. 
 
 THE MACMILLAN COMPANY, 
 
 66 FIFTH AVENUE NEW YORK. 
 
MR. ISAACS. 
 
 A Tale of Modern India. 
 
 " Under an unpretentious title we have here the most brilliant novel, or 
 rather romance, that has been given to the world for a very long time." 
 Tlic American. 
 
 DR. CLAUDIUS. 
 
 A True Story. 
 
 " It by no means belies the promises of its predecessor. The story, an 
 exceedingly improbable and romantic one, is told with much skill ; the 
 characters are strongly marked without any suspicion of caricature, and the 
 ai tnor s ideas on social and political subjects are often brilliant and always 
 striking. It is no exaggeration to say that there is not a dull page in the 
 book, which is peculiarly adapted for the recreation of student or thinker." 
 
 Living Church. 
 
 TO LEEWARD. 
 
 " A story of remarkable power." The Review of Reviews. 
 
 " The four characters with whose fortunes this novel deals, are, perhaps, 
 the most brilliantly executed portraits in the whole of Mr. Crawford s long 
 picture gallery, while for subtle insight into the springs of human passion 
 and for swift dramatic action none of the novels surpasses this one." The 
 News and Courier. 
 
 THE THREE FATES. 
 
 " Mr. Crawford has manifestly brought his best qualities as a student of 
 human nature and his finest resources as a master of an original and pictur 
 esque style to bear upon this story. Taken for nil in nil it is one of the most 
 pleasing of all his productions in fiction, and it affords a view of certain 
 phases of American, or perhaps we should say of New York, life that have 
 not hitherto been treated with anything like the same adequacy and felicity." 
 
 Boston Beacon. 
 
 A CIGARETTE-MAKER S ROMANCE. 
 
 " The interest is unflagging throughout. Never has Mr. Crawford done 
 more brilliant realistic work than here. But his realism is only the case and 
 cover for those intense feelings which, placed under no matter what humble 
 conditions, produce tht most dramatic and the most tragic situations. . . . 
 This is a secret of genius, to take the most coarse and common material, the 
 meanest surroundings, the most sordid material prospects, and out of the 
 vehement passions which sometimes dominate all human beings to build up 
 with these poor elements, scenes, and passages, the dramatic and emotional 
 power of which at once enforce attention and awaken the profoundest inter 
 est." New York Tribune. 
 
 AN AMERICAN POLITICIAN. 
 
 THE MACMILLAN COMPANY, 
 
 66 FIFTH AVENUE, NEW" YORK. 
 
THE WITCH OF PRAGUE. 
 
 A Fantastic Tale. 
 
 Illustrated by \V. J. HENNESSY. 
 
 " The artistic skill with which this extraordinary story is constructed 
 and carried out is admirable and delightful. . . . Mr. Crawford has scored 
 a decided triumph, for the interest of the talc is sustained throughout. . . . 
 A very remarkable, powerful, and interesting story." .Vetv York Tribune. 
 
 CREIFENSTEIN. 
 
 "... Another notable contribution to the literature of the day. It pos 
 sesses originality in its conception and is a work of unusual ability. Its 
 interest is sustained to the close, and it is an advance even on the previous 
 work of this talented author. Like all Mr. Crawford s work this novel is 
 crisp, clear, and vigorous, and will be read with a great deal of interest." 
 New York Evening Telegram. 
 
 WITH THE IMMORTALS. 
 
 " The strange central idea of the story could have occurred only to a 
 writer whose mind was very sensitive to the current of modern thought and 
 progress, while its execution, the setting it forth in proper literary clothing, 
 could be successfully attempted only by one whose active litenry ability 
 should be fully equalled by his power of assimilative knowledge both literary 
 and scientific, and no less by his courage and capacity for hard work. The 
 book will be found to have a fascination entirely new for the habitual reader 
 of novels. Indeed, Mr. Crawford has succeeded in taking his readers quite 
 above the ordinary plane of novel interest." Boston Advertiser. 
 
 ZOROASTER. 
 
 " It is a drama in the force of its situations and in the poetry and dignity 
 of its language; but its men and women are not men and women of a play. 
 By the naturalness of their conversation and behavior they seem to live and 
 lay hold of our human sympathy more than the same characters on a stage 
 could possibly do." The New York Times. 
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 " One of the earliest and best works of this famous novelist. . . . None 
 but a genuine artist could have made so true a picture of human life, crossed 
 by human passions and interwoven with human weakness. It is a perfect 
 specimen of literary art." The Newark Advertiser. 
 
 PAUL PATOFF. 
 
 THE MACMILLAN COMPANY 
 
 66 FIFTH AVENUE, NEW YORK. 
 
KHALED. 
 
 A Story of Arabia. 
 
 " Throughout the fascinating story runs the subtlest analysis, suggested 
 rather than elaborately worked out, of human passion and motive, the building 
 out and development of the character of the woman who becomes the hero s 
 wife and whose love he finally wins being an especially acute and highly 
 finished example of the story-teller s art. . . . That it is beautifully written 
 and holds the interest of the reader, fanciful as it all is, to the very end, none 
 who know the depth and artistic finish of Mr. Crawford s work need be 
 told." The Chicago Times. 
 
 CHILDREN OF THE KING. 
 
 " One of the most artistic and exqui.sitely finished pieces of work that 
 Crawford has produced. The picturesque setting, Calabria and its surround 
 ings, the beautiful Sorrento and the Gulf of Salermo, with the bewitching 
 accessories that climate, sea, and sky afford, give Air. Crawford rich oppor 
 tunities to show his rare descriptive powers. As a whole the book is strong 
 and beautiiul through its simplicity, and ranks among the choicest of the 
 author s many fine productions." 1 nblic Opinion. 
 
 MARZiO S CRUCIFIX. 
 
 "This work belongs to the highest depaitment of character-painting in 
 words." The Churchman. 
 
 " We have repeatedly had occasion to say that Mr. Crawford possesses 
 in an extraordinary degree the art of constructing a story. His sense of 
 proportion is just, and his narrative flows along with ease and perspicuity. 
 It is as if it could not have been written otherwise, so naturally does the 
 story unfold itself, and so logical and consistent is the sequence of incident 
 after incident. As a story Marzio s Crucifix is perfectly constructed." 
 New York Commercial AdTcrtiscr. 
 
 MARION DARGHE. 
 
 " Full enough of incident to have furnished material for three or four 
 stories. ... A most interesting and engrossing book. Every page unfolds 
 new possibilities, and the incidents multiply rapidly." Detroit Free Press, 
 
 " We are disposed to rank Marion Darchc as the best of Mr. Crawford s 
 American stories." The Literary World. 
 
 THE NOVEL: What It Is. 
 
 18mo. Cloth. 75 cents. 
 
 " When a master of his craft speaks, the public may well listen with care 
 ful attention, and since no fiction-writer of the day enjoys in this country a 
 broader or more enlightened popularity than Marion Crawford, his explana 
 tion of The Novel : What It Is, will be received with flattering interest. 
 The Boston Beacon. 
 
 THE MACMILLAN COMPANY 
 
 66 FIFTH AVENUE, NEW YORK. 
 
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