University of California Berkeley 
 
 Gift of 
 
 MR. E.-'W. NASH 
 
 OTIUA SINE LITERIS AORS EST. 
 
TALES OF THREE CITIES 
 
TALES 
 
 OF 
 
 THREE CITIES 
 
 BY 
 
 HENEY JAMES 
 
 MACMILLAN AND CO. 
 
 1884 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 FAai 
 
 LADY BARBERINA ...... 1 
 
 A NEW ENGLAND WINTER . . . . .129 
 
 THE IMPRESSIONS OF A COUSIN 209 
 
LADY BARBERINA 
 
I. 
 
 IT is well known that there are few sights in the 
 world more brilliant than the main avenues of Hyde 
 Park of a fine afternoon in June. This was quite the 
 opinion of two persons who, on a beautiful day at the 
 beginning of that month, four years ago, had established 
 themselves under the great trees in a couple of iron 
 chairs (the big ones with arms, for which, if I mistake 
 not, you pay twopence), and sat there with the slow 
 procession of the Drive behind them, while their faces 
 were turned to the more vivid agitation of the Eow. 
 They were lost in the multitude of observers, and they 
 belonged, superficially, at least, to that class of persons 
 who, wherever they may be, rank rather with the 
 spectators than with the spectacle. They were quiet, 
 simple, elderly, of aspect somewhat neutral; you 
 would have liked them extremely, but you would 
 scarcely have noticed them. Nevertheless, in all that 
 shining host, it is to them, obscure, that we must give 
 our attention. The reader is begged to have con- 
 fidence ; he is not asked to make vain concessions. 
 There was that in the faces of our friends which indi- 
 cated that they were growing old together, and that 
 they were fond enough of each other's company not 
 to object (if it was a condition) even to that. The 
 
4 TALES OF THREE CITIES. [i. 
 
 reader will have guessed that they were husband and 
 wife ; and perhaps while he is about it he will have 
 guessed that they were of that nationality for which 
 Hyde Park at the height of the season is most com- 
 pletely illustrative. They were familiar strangers, as 
 it were; and people at once so initiated and so 
 detached could only be Americans. This reflection, 
 indeed, you would have made only after some delay ; 
 for it must be admitted that they carried few patriotic 
 signs on the surface. They had the American turn of 
 mind, but that was very subtle ; and to your eye if 
 your eye had cared about it they might have been 
 of English, or even of Continental, parentage. It was 
 as if it suited them to be colourless ; their colour was 
 all in their talk. They were not in the least verdant ; 
 they were gray, rather, of monotonous hue. If they 
 were interested in the riders, the horses, the walkers, 
 the great exhibition of English wealth and health, 
 beauty, luxury and leisure, it was because all this 
 referred itself to other impressions, because they had 
 the key to almost everything that needed an answer 
 because, in a word, they were able to compare. 
 They had not arrived, they had only returned ; and 
 recognition much more than surprise was expressed in 
 their quiet gaze. It may as well be said outright 
 that Dexter Freer and his wife belonged to that class 
 of Americans who are constantly "passing through" 
 London. Possessors of a fortune of which, from any 
 standpoint, the limits were plainly visible, they were 
 unable to command that highest of luxuries a habita- 
 tion in their own country. They found it much more 
 possible to economise at Dresden or Florence than at 
 Buffalo or Minneapolis. The economy was as great, 
 and the inspiration was greater. From Dresden, from 
 
I.] LADY BARBERINA. 5 
 
 Florence, moreover, they constantly made excursions 
 which would not have been possible in those other 
 cities ; and it is even to be feared that they had some 
 rather expensive methods of saving. They came to 
 London to buy their portmanteaus, their toothbrushes, 
 their writing - paper ; they occasionally even crossed 
 the Atlantic to assure themselves that prices over 
 there were still the same. They were eminently a 
 social pair; their interests were mainly personal. 
 Their point of view always was so distinctly human 
 that they passed for being fond of gossip ; and they 
 certainly knew a good deal about the affairs of other 
 people. They had friends in every country, in every 
 town ; and it was not their fault if people told them 
 their secrets. Dexter Freer was a tall, lean man, 
 with an interested eye, and a nose that rather aspired 
 than drooped, yet was salient withal. He brushed his 
 hair, which was streaked with white, forward over his 
 ears, in those locks which are represented in the 
 portraits of clean-shaven gentlemen who flourished 
 fifty years ago, and wore an old-fashioned neckcloth 
 and gaiters. His wife, a small, plump person, of 
 superficial freshness, with a white face, and hair that 
 was still perfectly black, smiled perpetually, but had 
 never laughed since the death of a son whom she had 
 lost ten years after her marriage. Her husband, on 
 the other hand, who was usually quite grave, indulged 
 on great occasions in resounding mirth. People con- 
 fided in her less than in him ; but that mattered little, 
 as she confided sufficiently in herself. Her dress, 
 which was always black or dark gray, was so harmoni- 
 ously simple that you could see she was fond of it ; it 
 was never smart by accident. She was full of inten- 
 tions, of the most judicious sort ; and though she was 
 
6 TALES OF THREE CITIES. [i. 
 
 perpetually moving about the world she had the air 
 of being perfectly stationary. She was celebrated for 
 the promptitude with which she made her sitting-room 
 at an inn, where she might be spending a night or 
 two, look like an apartment long inhabited. With 
 books, flowers, photographs, draperies, rapidly dis- 
 tributed she had even a way, for the most part, of 
 having a piano the place seemed almost hereditary. 
 The pair were just back from America, where they 
 had spent three months, and now were able to face 
 the world with something of the elation which people 
 feel who have been justified in a prevision. They 
 had found their native land quite ruinous. 
 
 "There he is again!" said Mr. Freer, following 
 with his eyes a young man who passed along the Eow, 
 riding slowly. " That's a beautiful thoroughbred ! " 
 
 Mrs. Freer asked idle questions only when she 
 wished for time to think. At present she had simply 
 to look and see who it was her husband meant. 
 " The horse is too big," she remarked, in a moment. 
 
 "You mean that the rider is too small," her hus- 
 band rejoined ; " he is mounted on his millions." 
 
 " Is it really millions ? " 
 
 " Seven or eight, they tell me." 
 
 "How disgusting!" It was in this manner that 
 Mrs. Freer usually spoke of the large fortunes of the 
 day. " I wish he would see us," she added. 
 
 " He does see us, but he doesn't like to look at us. 
 He is too conscious ; he isn't easy." 
 
 " Too conscious of his big horse ? " 
 
 " Yes, and of his big fortune ; he is rather ashamed 
 of it." 
 
 "This is an odd place to come, then," said Mrs. 
 Freer. 
 
I.] LADY BARBERINA. 7 
 
 " I am not sure of that. He will find people here 
 richer than himself, and other big horses in plenty, 
 and that will cheer him up. Perhaps, too, he is 
 looking for that girl." 
 
 " The one we heard about ? He can't be such a 
 fool." 
 
 " He isn't a fool," said Dexter Freer. " If he is 
 thinking of her, he has some good reason." 
 
 " I wonder what Mary Lemon would say." 
 
 " She would say it was right, if he should do it. 
 She thinks ha can do no wrong. He is exceedingly 
 fond of her." 
 
 " I shan't be sure of that if he takes home a wife 
 who will despise her." 
 
 " Why should the girl despise her ? She is a 
 delightful woman." 
 
 " The girl will never know it and if she should, 
 it would make no difference ; she will despise every- 
 thing." 
 
 " I don't believe it, my dear ; she will like some 
 things very much. Every one will be very nice to her." 
 
 " She will despise them all the more. But we are 
 speaking as if it were all arranged ; I don't believe in 
 it at all," said Mrs. Freer. 
 
 " Well, something of the sort in this case or in 
 some other is sure to happen sooner or later," her 
 husband replied, turning round a little toward the 
 part of the delta which is formed, near the entrance 
 to the Park, by the divergence of the two great vistas 
 of the Drive and the Row. 
 
 Our friends had turned their backs, as I have said, 
 to the solemn revolution of wheels and the densely- 
 packed mass of spectators who had chosen that part of 
 the show. These spectators were now agitated by a 
 
8 TALES OF THREE CITIES. [r. 
 
 unanimous impulse : the pushing back of chairs, the 
 shuffle of feet, the rustle of garments and the deepening 
 murmur of voices sufficiently expressed it. Boyalty 
 was approaching royalty was passing royalty had 
 passed. Freer turned his head and his ear a little ; 
 but he failed to alter his position further, and his wife 
 took no notice of the flurry. They had seen royalty 
 pass, all over Europe, and they knew that it passed 
 very quickly. Sometimes it came back ; sometimes it 
 didn't ; for more than once they had seen it pass for 
 the last time. They were veteran tourists, and they 
 knew perfectly when to get up and when to remain 
 seated. Mr. Freer went on with his proposition : 
 "Some young fellow is certain to do it, and one of 
 these gills is certain to take the risk. They must 
 take risks, over here, more and more." 
 
 " The girls, I have no doubt, will be glad enough ; 
 they have had very little chance as yet. But I don't 
 want Jackson to begin." 
 
 " Do you know I rather think I do ? " said Dexter 
 Freer ; " It will be very amusing." 
 
 " For us, perhaps, but not for him ; he will repent 
 of it, and be wretched. He is too good for that." 
 
 "Wretched, never! He has no capacity for wretched- 
 ness ; and that's why he can afford to risk it." 
 
 "He will have to make great concessions," Mrs. 
 Freer remarked. 
 
 " He won't make one." 
 
 " I should like to see." 
 
 " You admit, then, that it will be amusing, which is 
 all I contend for. But, as you say, we are talking as 
 if it were settled, whereas there is probably nothing 
 in it, after all. The best stories always turn out false. 
 I shall be sorry in this case." 
 
I.] LADY BARBERINA. 9 
 
 They relapsed into silence, while people passed and 
 repassed them continuous, successive, mechanical, 
 with strange sequences of faces. They looked at the 
 people, but no one looked at them, though every one 
 was there so admittedly to see what was to be seen. 
 It was all striking, all pictorial, and it made a great 
 composition. The wide, long area of the Eow, its 
 red -brown surface dotted with bounding figures, 
 stretched away into the distance and became suffused 
 and misty in the bright, thick air. The deep, dark 
 English verdure that bordered and overhung it, looked 
 rich and old, revived and refreshed though it was by 
 the breath of June. The mild blue of the sky was 
 spotted with great silvery clouds, and the light 
 drizzled down in heavenly shafts over the quieter 
 spaces of the Park, as one saw them beyond the Eow. 
 All this, however, was only a background, for the 
 scene was before everything personal; superbly so, 
 and full of the gloss and lustre, the contrasted tones, 
 of a thousand polished surfaces. Certain things were 
 salient, pervasive the shining flanks of the perfect 
 horses, the twinkle of bits and spurs, the smoothness 
 of fine cloth adjusted to shoulders and limbs, the 
 sheen of hats and boots, the freshness of complexions, 
 the expression of smiling, talking faces, the flash and 
 flutter of rapid gallops. Faces were everywhere, and 
 they were the great effect ; above all, the fair faces of 
 women on tall horses, flushed a little under their 
 stiff black hats, with figures stiffened, in spite of 
 much definition of curve, by their tight-fitting habits. 
 Their hard little helmets ; their neat, compact heads ; 
 their straight necks ; their firm, tailor-made armour ; 
 their blooming, competent physique, made them look 
 doubly like amazons about to ride a charge. The 
 
10 TALES OF THREE CITIES. [i. 
 
 men, with their eyes before them, with hats of undu- 
 lating brim, good profiles, high collars, white flowers 
 on their chests, long legs and long feet, had an air 
 more elaboratively decorative, as they jolted beside 
 the ladies, always out of step. These were youthful 
 types ; but it was not all youth, for many a saddle was 
 surmounted by a richer rotundity ; and ruddy faces, 
 with short white whiskers or with matronly chins, 
 looked down comfortably from an equilibrium which 
 was moral and social as well as physical. The walkers 
 differed from the riders only in being on foot, and in 
 looking at the riders more than these looked at them ; 
 for they would have done as well in the saddle and 
 ridden as the others ride. The women had tight little 
 bonnets and still tighter little knots of hair; their 
 round chins rested on a close swathing of lace, or, in 
 some cases, of silver chains and circlets. They had 
 flat backs and small waists ; they walked slowly, with 
 their elbows out, carrying vast parasols, and turning 
 their heads very little to the right or the left. They 
 were amazons unmounted, quite ready to spring into 
 the saddle. There was a great deal of beauty and a 
 general look of successful development, which came 
 from clear, quiet eyes, and from well-cut lips, on which 
 syllables were liquid and sentences brief. Some of 
 the young men, as well as the women, had the happiest 
 proportions and oval faces, in which line and colour 
 were pure and fresh and the idea of the moment was 
 not very intense. 
 
 "They are very good-looking," said Mr. Freer, at 
 the end of ten minutes ; " they are the finest whites." 
 
 " So long as they remain white they do very well ; 
 but when they venture upon colour!" his wife replied. 
 She sat with her eyes on a level with the skirts of 
 
I.] LADY BARBERINA. 11 
 
 the ladies who passed her ; and she had been follow- 
 ing the progress of a green velvet robe, enriched with 
 ornaments of steel and much gathered up in the hands 
 of its wearer, who, herself apparently in her teens, 
 was accompanied by a young lady draped in scanty 
 pink muslin, embroidered, aesthetically, with flowers 
 that simulated the iris. 
 
 " All the same, in a crowd, they are wonderfully 
 well turned out," Dexter Freer went on; "take the 
 men, and women, and horses together. Look at that 
 big fellow on the light chestnut : what could be more 
 perfect ? By the way, it's Lord Canterville," he added 
 in a moment, as if the fact were of some importance. 
 
 Mrs. Freer recognised its importance to the degree 
 of raising her glass to look at Lord Canterville. 
 " How do you know it's he ? " she asked, with her 
 glass still up. 
 
 " I heard him say something the night I went to 
 the House of Lords. It was very few words, but I 
 remember him. A man who was near me told me 
 who he was." 
 
 " He is not so handsome as you," said Mrs. Freer, 
 dropping her glass. 
 
 " Ah, you're too difficult ! " her husband murmured. 
 " What a pity the girl isn't with him/' he went on ; 
 " we might see something." 
 
 It appeared in a moment that the girl was with him. 
 The nobleman designated had ridden slowly forward 
 from the start, but just opposite our friends he pulled 
 up to look behind him, as if he had been waiting for 
 some one. At the same moment a gentleman in the 
 Walk engaged his attention, so that he advanced to 
 the barrier which protects the pedestrians, and halted 
 there, bending a little from his saddle and talking 
 
12 TALES OF THREE CITIES. [L 
 
 with his friend, who leaned against the rail. Lord 
 Canterville was indeed perfect, as his American 
 admirer had said. Upwards of sixty, and of great 
 stature and great presence, he was really a splendid 
 apparition. In exquisite preservation, he had the 
 freshness of middle Kfe, and would have been young 
 to the eye if the lapse of years were not needed to 
 account for his considerable girth. He was clad from 
 head to foot in garments of a radiant gray, and his 
 fine florid countenance was surmounted with a white 
 hat, of which the majestic curves were a triumph of 
 good form. Over his mighty chest was spread a beard 
 of the richest growth, and of a colour, in spite of a few 
 streaks, vaguely grizzled, to which the coat of his 
 admirable horse appeared to be a perfect match. It 
 left no opportunity, in his -uppermost button- hole, for 
 the customary gardenia ; but this was of comparatively 
 little consequence, as the vegetation of the beard itself 
 was tropical. Astride his great steed, with his big 
 fist, gloved in pearl-gray, on his swelling thigh, his 
 face lighted up with good-humoured indifference, and 
 all his magnificent surface reflecting the mild sunshine, 
 he was a very imposing man indeed, and visibly, in- 
 contestably, a personage. People almost lingered to 
 look at him as they passed. His halt was brief, 
 however, for he was almost immediately joined by two 
 handsome girls, who were as well turned out, in Dexter 
 Freer's phrase, as himself. They had been detained a 
 moment at the entrance to the Edw, and now advanced 
 side by side, their groom close behind them. One 
 was taller and older than the other, and it was appar- 
 ent at a glance that they were sisters. Between them, 
 with their charming shoulders, contracted waists, and 
 skirts that hung without a wrinkle, like a plate of 
 
I.] LADY BAKBERINA. 13 
 
 zinc, they represented in a singularly complete form 
 the pretty English girl in the position in which she is 
 prettiest. 
 
 " Of course they are his daughters," said Dexter 
 Freer, as they rode away with Lord Canterville ; " and 
 in that case one of them must be Jackson Lemon's 
 sweetheart. Probably the bigger ; they said it was 
 the eldest. She is evidently a fine creature." 
 
 " She would hate it over there," Mrs. Freer re- 
 marked, for all answer to this cluster of inductions. 
 
 " You know I don't admit that. But granting she 
 should, it would do her good to have to accommodate 
 herself." 
 
 " She wouldn't accommodate herself." 
 
 " She looks so confoundedly fortunate, perched up 
 on that saddle," Dexter Freer pursued, without heed- 
 ing his wife's rejoinder. 
 
 " Aren't they supposed to be very poor ?" 
 
 " Yes, they look it ! " And his eyes followed the 
 distinguished trio, as, with the groom, as distinguished 
 in his way as any of them, they started on a canter. 
 
 The air was full of sound, but it was low and dif- 
 fused ; and when, near our friends, it became articu- 
 late, the words were simple and few. 
 
 "It's as good as the circus, isn't it, Mrs. Freer?" 
 These words correspond to that description, but they 
 pierced the air more effectually than any our friends 
 had lately heard. They were uttered by a young man 
 who had stopped short in the path, absorbed by the 
 sight of his compatriots. He was short and stout, he 
 had a round, kind face, and short, stiff-looking hair, 
 which was reproduced in a small bristling beard. He 
 wore a double-breasted walking-coat, which was not, 
 however, buttoned, and on the summit of his round 
 
14 TALES OF THREE CITIES. [i. 
 
 head was perched a hat of exceeding smallness, and of 
 the so-called " pot " category. It evidently fitted him, 
 but a hatter himself would not have known why. His 
 hands were encased in new gloves, of a dark-brown 
 colour, and they hung with an air of unaccustomed 
 inaction at his sides. He sported neither umbrella nor 
 stick. He extended one of his hands, almost with 
 eagerness, to Mrs. Freer, blushing a little as he became 
 aware that he had been eager. 
 
 " Oh, Doctor Feeder ! " she said, smiling at him. 
 Then she repeated to her husband, " Doctor Feeder, my 
 dear ! " and her husband said, " Oh, Doctor, how d'ye 
 do ? " I have spoken of the composition of his appear- 
 ance ; but the items were not perceived by these two. 
 They saw only one thing, his delightful face, which 
 was both simple and clever, and unreservedly good. 
 They had lately made the voyage from New York in 
 his company, and it was plain that he would be very 
 genial at sea. After he had stood in front of them a 
 moment, a chair beside Mrs. Freer became vacant, on 
 which he took possession of it, and sat there telling 
 her what he thought of the Park and how he liked 
 London. As she knew every one she had known 
 many of his people at home ; and while she listened to 
 him she remembered how large their contribution had 
 been to the virtue and culture of Cincinnati. Mrs. 
 Freer's social horizon included even that city ; she had 
 been on terms almost familiar with several families 
 from Ohio, and was acquainted with the position of 
 the Feeders there. This family, very numerous, was 
 interwoven into an enormous cousinship. She herself 
 was quite out of such a system, but she could have 
 told you whom Doctor Feeder's great-grandfather had 
 married. Every one, indeed, had heard of the good 
 
I.] LADY BARBERINA. 15 
 
 deeds of the descendants of this worthy, who were 
 generally physicians, excellent ones, and whose name 
 expressed not inaptly their numerous acts of charity. 
 Sidney Feeder, who had several cousins of this name 
 established in the same line at Cincinnati, had trans- 
 ferred himself and his ambition to New York, where 
 his practice, at the end of three years, had begun 
 to grow. He had studied his profession at Vienna, 
 and was impregnated with German science ; indeed, if 
 he had only worn spectacles, he might perfectly, as he 
 sat there watching the riders in Eotten Eow as if 
 their proceedings were a successful demonstration, have 
 passed for a young German of distinction. He had 
 come over to London to attend a medical congress 
 which met this year in the British capital ; for his 
 interest in the healing art was by no means limited 
 to the cure of his patients ; it embraced every form 
 of experiment, and the expression of his honest eyes 
 would almost have reconciled you to vivisection. It 
 was the first time he had come to the Park ; for social 
 experiments he had little leisure. Being aware, how- 
 ever, that it was a very typical, and as it were 
 symptomatic, sight, he had conscientiously reserved an 
 afternoon, and had dressed himself carefully for the 
 occasion. " It's quite a brilliant show," he said to Mrs. 
 Freer ; " it makes me wish I had a mount." Little 
 as he resembled Lord Canterville, he rode very well. 
 
 " Wait till Jackson Lemon passes again, and you 
 can stop him and make him let you take a turn." 
 This was the jocular suggestion of Dexter Freer. 
 
 " Why, is he here ? I have been looking out for 
 him ; I should like to see him." 
 
 " Doesn't he go to your medical congress ? " asked 
 Mrs. Freer. 
 
16 TALES OF THREE CITIES. [i. 
 
 " Well, yes, he attends ; but he isn't very regular. 
 I guess he goes out a good deal." 
 
 " I guess he does," said Mr. Freer ; " and if he isn't 
 very regular, I guess he has a good reason. A beauti- 
 ful reason, a charming reason," he went on, bending 
 forward to look down toward the beginning of the 
 Eow. " Dear me, what a lovely reason ! " 
 
 Doctor Feeder followed the direction of his eyes, 
 and after a moment understood his allusion. Little 
 Jackson Lemon, on his big horse, passed along the 
 avenue again, riding beside one of the young girls who 
 had come that way shortly before in the company of 
 Lord Canterville. His lordship followed, in conver- 
 sation with the other, his younger daughter. As they 
 advanced, Jackson Lemon turned his eyes toward the 
 multitude under the trees, and it so happened that 
 they rested upon the Dexter Freers. He smiled, and 
 raised his hat with all possible friendliness ; and his 
 three companions turned to see to whom he was bow- 
 ing with so much cordiality. As he settled his hat on 
 his head he espied the young man from Cincinnati, 
 whom he had at first overlooked ; whereupon he smiled 
 still more brightly and waved Sidney Feeder an airy 
 salutation with his hand, reining in a little at the 
 same time just for an instant, as if he half expected 
 the Doctor to come and speak to him. Seeing him 
 with strangers, however, Sidney Feeder hung back, 
 staring a little as he rode away. 
 
 It is open to us to know that at this moment the 
 young lady by whose side he was riding said to him, 
 familiarly enough : " Who are those people you bowed 
 to?" 
 
 " Some old friends of mine Americans," Jackson 
 Lemon answered. 
 
i.] LADY BARBERINA. 17 
 
 " Of course they are Americans ; there is nothing 
 but Americans nowadays." 
 
 " Oh yes, our turn's coming round !" laughed the 
 young man. 
 
 " But that doesn't say who they are/' his companion 
 continued. " It's so difficult to say who Americans 
 are," she added, before he had time to answer her. 
 
 "Dexter Freer and his wife there is nothing 
 difficult about that ; every one knows them." 
 
 " I never heard of them," said the English girl. 
 
 " Ah, that's your fault. I assure you everybody 
 knows them." 
 
 " And does everybody know the little man with 
 the fat face whom you kissed your hand to ?" 
 
 " I didn't kiss my hand, but I would if I had 
 thought of it. He is a great chum of mine, a fellow- 
 student at Vienna. 
 
 " And what's his name ?" 
 
 " Doctor Feeder." 
 
 Jackson Lemon's companion was silent a moment. 
 " Are all your friends doctors ? " she presently inquired. 
 
 " No ; some of them are in other businesses." 
 
 " Are they all in some business ? " 
 
 " Most of them ; save two or three, like Dexter 
 Freer." 
 
 " Dexter Freer ? I thought you said Doctor Freer." 
 
 The young man gave a laugh. " You heard me 
 wrong. You have got doctors on the brain, Lady 
 Barb." 
 
 " I am rather glad," said' Lady Barb, giving the 
 rein to her horse, who bounded away. 
 
 " Well, yes, she's very handsome, the reason," Doctor 
 Feeder remarked, as he sat under the trees. 
 
 "Is he going to marry her ?" Mrs. Freer inquired, 
 c 
 
18 TALES OF THREE CITIES. [i. 
 
 " Marry her ? I hope not." 
 
 " Why do you hope not ? " 
 
 " Because I know nothing about her. I want to 
 know something about the woman that man marries." 
 
 " I suppose you would like him to marry in Cin- 
 cinnati," Mrs. Freer rejoined lightly. 
 
 " Well, I am not particular where it is ; but I want 
 to know her first." Doctor Feeder was very sturdy. 
 
 " We were in hopes you would know all about it," 
 said Mr. Freer. 
 
 " No ; I haven't kept up with him there." 
 
 " We have heard from a dozen people that he has 
 been always with her for the last month ; and that 
 kind of thing, in England, is supposed to mean some- 
 thing. Hasn't he spoken of her when you have seen 
 him ?" 
 
 " No, he has only talked about the new treatment 
 of spinal meningitis. He is very much interested in 
 spinal meningitis." 
 
 " I wonder if he talks about it to Lady Barb," said 
 Mrs. Freer. 
 
 "Who is she, any way?" the young man inquired. 
 
 "Lady Barberina Clement." 
 
 " And who is Lady Barberina Clement ? " 
 
 " The daughter of Lord Canterville." 
 
 " And who is Lord Canterville ? " 
 
 " Dexter must tell you that," said Mrs. Freer. 
 
 And Dexter accordingly told him that the Marquis 
 of Canterville had been in his day a great sporting 
 nobleman and an ornament to English society, and 
 had held more than once a high post in her Majesty's 
 household. Dexter Freer knew all these things how 
 his lordship had married a daughter of Lord Treherne, 
 a very serious, intelligent and beautiful woman, who 
 
I.] LADY BARBERINA. 19 
 
 had redeemed him from the extravagance of his youth 
 and presented him in rapid succession with a dozen 
 little tenants for the nurseries at Pasterns this being, 
 as Mr. Freer also knew, the name of the principal seat 
 of the Cantervilles. The Marquis was a Tory, but 
 very liberal for a Tory, and very popular in society at 
 large ; good-natured, good-looking, knowing how to be 
 genial and yet remain a grand seigneur, clever enough 
 to make an occasional speech, and much associated 
 with the fine old English pursuits, as well as with 
 many of the new improvements the purification of 
 the Turf, the opening of the museums on Sunday, the 
 propagation of coffee-taverns, the latest ideas on sani- 
 tary reform. He disapproved of the extension of the 
 suffrage, but he positively had drainage on the brain. 
 It had been said of him at least once (and I think in 
 print) that he was just the man to convey to the 
 popular mind the impression that the British aristo- 
 cracy is still a living force. He was not very rich, 
 unfortunately (for a man who had to exemplify such 
 truths), and of his twelve children no less than seven 
 were daughters. Lady Barberina, Jackson Lemon's 
 friend, was the second ; the eldest had married Lord 
 Beauchemin. Mr. Freer had caught quite the right 
 pronunciation of this name : he called it Bitumen. 
 Lady Louisa had done very well, for her husband was 
 rich, and she had brought him nothing to speak of; 
 but it was hardly to be expected that the others would 
 do so well. Happily the younger girls were still in 
 the schoolroom ; and before they had come up, Lady 
 Canterville, who was a woman of resources, would 
 have worked off the two that were out. It was Lady 
 Agatha's first season ; she was not so pretty as her 
 sister, but she was thought to be cleverer. Half a 
 
20 TALES OF THREE CITIES. [i. 
 
 dozen people had spoken to him of Jackson Lemon's 
 being a great deal at the Cantervilles. He was sup- 
 posed to be enormously rich. 
 
 "Well, so he is," said Sidney Feeder, who had 
 listened to Mr. Freer's little recital with attention, 
 with eagerness even, but with an air of imperfect 
 apprehension. 
 
 " Yes, but not so rich as they probably think." 
 
 " Do they want his money ? Is that what they're 
 after ? " 
 
 " You go straight to the point," Mrs. Freer mur- 
 mured. 
 
 " I haven't the least idea," said her husband. " He 
 is a very nice fellow in himself." 
 
 " Yes, but he's a doctor," Mrs. Freer remarked. 
 
 "What have they got against that ?" asked Sidney 
 Feeder. 
 
 " Why, over here, you know, they only call them 
 in to prescribe," said Dexter Freer ; " the profession 
 isn't a what you'd call aristocratic." 
 
 " Well, I don't know it, and I don't know that I 
 want to know it. How do you mean, aristocratic ? 
 What profession is? It would be rather a curious 
 one. Many of the gentlemen at the congress there 
 are quite charming." 
 
 " I like doctors very much," said Mrs. Freer ; " my 
 father was a doctor. But they don't marry the 
 daughters of marquises." 
 
 " I don't believe Jackson wants to marry that one." 
 
 "Very possibly not people are such asses," said 
 Dexter Freer. " But he will have to decide. I wish 
 you would find out, by the way ; you can if you will." 
 
 " I will ask him up at the congress ; I can do 
 that. I suppose he has got to many some one," 
 
i.] LADY BARBERINA. 21 
 
 Sidney Feeder added, in a moment, " and she may be 
 a nice girl." 
 
 " She is said to be charming." 
 
 " Very well, then ; it won't hurt him. I must say, 
 however, I am not sure I like all that about her 
 family." 
 
 " What I told you ? It's all to their honour and 
 glory." 
 
 " Are they quite on the square ? It's like those 
 people in Thackeray." 
 
 " Oh, if Thackeray could have done this !" Mrs. 
 Freer exclaimed, with a good deal of expression. 
 
 " You mean all this scene ?" asked the young man. 
 
 " No ; the marriage of a British noblewoman and 
 an American doctor. It would have been a subject 
 for Thackeray." 
 
 " You see you do want it, my dear," said Dexter 
 Freer quietly. 
 
 "I want it as a story, but I don't want it for 
 Doctor Lemon." 
 
 "Does he call himself 'Doctor' still?" Mr. Freer 
 asked of young Feeder. 
 
 " I suppose he does ; I call him so. Of course he 
 doesn't practise. But once a doctor, always a doctor." 
 
 " That's doctrine for Lady Barb ! " 
 
 Sidney Feeder stared. " Hasn't she got a title too ? 
 What would she expect him to be ? President of the 
 United States ? He's a man of real ability ; he might 
 have stood at the head of his profession. When I 
 think of that, I want to swear. What did his father 
 want to go and make all that money for ? " 
 
 " It must certainly be odd to them to see a ' medi- 
 cal man ' with six or eight millions," Mr. Freer ob- 
 served. 
 
22 TALES OF THREE CITIES. [i. 
 
 " They use the same term as the Choctaws," said 
 his wife. 
 
 " Why, some of their own physicians make immense 
 fortunes," Sidney Feeder declared. 
 
 " Couldn't he be made a baronet by the Queen ?" 
 This suggestion came from Mrs. Freer. 
 
 "Yes, then he would be aristocratic," said the 
 young man. " But I don't see why he should want 
 to marry over here ; it seems to me to be going out 
 of his way. However, if he is happy, I don't care. 
 I like him very much ; he has got lots of ability. If 
 it hadn't been for his father he would have made a 
 splendid doctor. But, as I say, he takes a great in- 
 terest in medical science, and I guess he means to 
 promote it all he can with his fortune. He will 
 always be doing something in the way of research. 
 He thinks we do know something, and he is bound we 
 shall know more. I hope she won't prevent him, the 
 young marchioness is that her rank ? And I hope 
 they are really good people. He ought to be very 
 useful. I should want to know a good deal about the 
 family I was going to marry into." 
 
 " He looked to me, as he rode there, as if he knew 
 a good deal about the Clements," Dexter Freer said, 
 rising, as his wife suggested that they ought to be 
 going ; " and he looked to me pleased with the know- 
 ledge. There they come, down on the other side. 
 Will you walk away with us, or will you stay ?" 
 
 " Stop him and ask him, and then come and tell 
 us in Jermyn Street." This was Mrs. Freer's part- 
 ing injunction to Sidney Feeder. 
 
 "He ought to come himself tell him that," her 
 husband added. 
 
 " Well, I guess I'll stay," said the young man, as 
 
I.] LADY BAKBERINA. 23 
 
 his companions merged themselves in the crowd that 
 now was tending toward the gates. He went and 
 stood by the barrier, and saw Doctor Lemon and his 
 friends pull up at the entrance to the Kow, where 
 they apparently prepared to separate. The separation 
 took some time, and Sidney Feeder became interested. 
 Lord Canterville and his younger daughter lingered to 
 talk with two gentlemen, also mounted, who looked a 
 good deal at the legs of Lady Agatha's horse. Jack- 
 son Lemon and Lady Barberina were face to face, very 
 near each other; and she, leaning forward a little, 
 stroked the overlapping neck of his glossy bay. At a 
 distance he appeared to be talking, and she to be 
 listening and saying nothing. " Oh yes, he's making 
 love to her," thought Sidney Feeder. Suddenly her 
 father turned away, to leave the Park, and she joined 
 him and disappeared, while Doctor Lemon came up on 
 the left again, as if for a final gallop. He had not 
 gone far before he perceived his confr&re, who awaited 
 him at the rail ; and he repeated the gesture which 
 Lady Barberina had spoken of as a kissing of his hand, 
 though it must be added that, to his friend's eyes, it 
 had not quite that significance. When he reached the 
 point where Feeder stood he pulled up. 
 
 " If I had known you were coming here I would 
 have given you a mount," he said. There was not in 
 his person that irradiation of wealth and distinction 
 which made Lord Canterville glow like a picture ; but 
 as he sat there with his little legs stuck out, he looked 
 very bright and sharp and happy, wearing in his 
 degree the aspect of one of Fortune's favourites. He 
 had a thin, keen, delicate face, a nose very carefully 
 finished, a rapid eye, a trifle hard in expression, and a 
 small moustache, a good deal cultivated. He was not 
 
24 TALES OF THREE CITIES. [r. 
 
 striking, but he was very positive, and it was easy to 
 see that he was full of purpose. 
 
 " How many horses have you got about forty ? " 
 his compatriot inquired, in response to his greeting. 
 
 "About five hundred," said Jackson Lemon. 
 
 "Did you mount your friends the three you 
 were riding with ? " 
 
 " Mount them ? They have got the best horses in 
 England." 
 
 " Did they sell you this one ? " Sidney Feeder con- 
 tinued, in the same humorous strain. 
 
 " What do you think of him ? " said his friend, not 
 deigning to answer this question. 
 
 " He's an awful old screw ; I wonder he can 
 carry you." 
 
 "Where did you get your hat?" asked Doctor 
 Lemon, in return. 
 
 " I got it in New York. What's the matter with it? " 
 
 " It's very beautiful ; I wish I had bought one 
 like it." 
 
 "The head's the thing not the hat. I don't 
 mean yours, but mine. There is something very deep 
 in your question ; I must think it over." 
 
 " Don't don't," said Jackson Lemon ; " you will 
 never get to the bottom of it. Are you having a good 
 time?" 
 
 " A glorious time. Have you been up to-day ? " 
 
 " Up among the doctors ? No ; I have had a lot 
 of things to do." 
 
 " We had a very interesting discussion. I made a 
 few remarks." 
 
 " You ought to have told me. What were they 
 about?" 
 
 " About the intermarriage of races, from the point 
 
I.] LADY BARBERINA. 25 
 
 of view And Sidney Feeder paused a moment, 
 
 occupied with the attempt to scratch the nose of his 
 friend's horse. 
 
 "From the point of view of the progeny, I 
 suppose ? " 
 
 " Not at all ; from the point of view of the old 
 friends." 
 
 "Damn the old friends !" Doctor Lemon exclaimed, 
 with jocular crudity. 
 
 " Is it true that you are going to marry a young 
 marchioness?" 
 
 The face of the young man in the saddle became 
 just a trifle rigid, and his firm eyes fixed themselves 
 on Doctor Feeder. 
 
 " Who has told you that ?" 
 
 " Mr. and Mrs. Freer, whom I met just now." 
 
 " Mr. and Mrs. Freer be hanged ! And who told 
 them?" 
 
 " Ever so many people ; I don't know who." 
 
 " Gad, how things are tattled ! " cried Jackson 
 Lemon, with some asperity. 
 
 " I can see it's true, by the way you say that." 
 
 " Do Freer and his wife believe it ? " Jackson 
 Lemon went on impatiently. 
 
 " They want you to go and see them : you can 
 judge for yourself." 
 
 "I will go and see them, and tell them to mind 
 their business." 
 
 " In Jermyn Street ; but I forget the number. I 
 am sorry the marchioness isn't American," Sidney 
 Feeder continued. 
 
 " If I should marry her, she would be," said his 
 friend. " But I don't see what difference it can make 
 to you." 
 
26 TALES OF THREE CITIES. [i. 
 
 " Why, she'll look down on the profession ; and I 
 don't like that from your wife." 
 
 " That will touch me more than you." 
 " Then it is true ? " cried Feeder, more seriously, 
 looking up at his friend. 
 
 " She won't look down ; I will answer for that." 
 " You won't care ; you are out of it all now." 
 " No, I am not ; I mean to do a great deal of work." 
 " I will believe that when I see it," said Sidney 
 Feeder, who was by no means perfectly incredulous, 
 but who thought it salutary to take that tone. " I 
 am not sure that you have any right to work you 
 oughtn't to have everything ; you ought to leave the 
 field to us. You must pay the penalty of being so 
 rich. You would have been celebrated if you had 
 continued to practise more celebrated than any one. 
 But you won't be now you can't be. Some one 
 else will be, in your place." 
 
 Jackson Lemon listened to this, but without 
 meeting the eyes of the speaker; not, however, as if 
 he were avoiding them, but as if the long stretch of 
 the Eide, now less and less obstructed, invited him 
 and made his companion's talk a little retarding. 
 Nevertheless, he answered, deliberately and kindly 
 enough : " I hope it will be you ;" and he bowed to a 
 lady who rode past. 
 
 "Very likely it will. I hope I make you feel 
 badly that's what I'm trying to do." 
 
 " Oh, awfully ! " cried Jackson Lemon ; " all the 
 more that I am not in the least engaged." 
 
 ''Well, that's good. Won't you come up to- 
 morrow ?" Doctor Feeder went on. 
 
 " I'll try, my dear fellow ; I can't be sure. By- 
 by ! " 
 
ir.J LADY BARBERINA. 27 
 
 " Oh, you're lost anyway !" cried Sidney Feeder, 
 as the other started away. 
 
 II. 
 
 IT was Lady Marmaduke, the wife of Sir Henry 
 Marmaduke, who had introduced Jackson Lemon to 
 Lady Beauchemin ; after which Lady Beauchemin 
 had made him acquainted with her mother and sisters. 
 Lady Marmaduke was also transatlantic ; she had 
 been for her conjugal baronet the most permanent 
 consequence of a tour in the United States. At pres- 
 ent, at the end of ten years, she knew her London as 
 she had never known her New York, so that it had 
 been easy for her to be, as she called herself, Jackson 
 Lemon's social godmother. She had views with re- 
 gard to his career, and these views fitted into a social 
 scheme which, if our space permitted, I should be glad 
 to lay before the reader in its magnitude. She wished 
 to add an arch or two to the bridge on which she had 
 effected her transit from America, and it was her be- 
 lief that Jackson Lemon might furnish the materials. 
 This bridge, as yet a somewhat sketchy and rickety 
 structure, she saw (in the future) boldly stretching 
 from one solid pillar to another. It would have to go 
 both ways, for reciprocity was the keynote of Lady 
 Marmaduke's plan. It was her belief that an ulti- 
 mate fusion was inevitable, and that those who were 
 the first to understand the situation would gain the 
 most. The first time Jackson Lemon had dined with 
 her, he met Lady Beauchemin, who was her intimate 
 friend. Lady Beauchemin was remarkably gracious ; 
 she asked him to come and see her as if she really 
 
28 TALES OF THREE CITIES. [n. 
 
 meant it. He presented himself, and in her drawing- 
 room met her mother, who happened to be calling at 
 the same moment. Lady Canterville, not less friendly 
 than her daughter, invited him down to Pasterns for 
 Easter week; and before a month had passed it 
 seemed to him that, though he was not what he 
 would have called intimate at any house in London, 
 the door of the house of Clement opened to him 
 pretty often. This was a considerable good fortune, 
 for it always opened upon a charming picture. The 
 inmates were a blooming and beautiful race, and their 
 interior had an aspect of the ripest comfort. It was 
 not the splendour of New York (as New York had 
 lately begun to appear to the young man), but a 
 splendour in which there was an unpurchasable ingre- 
 dient of age. He himself had a great deal of money, 
 and money was good, even when it was new ; but old 
 money was the best. Even after he learned that 
 Lord Canterville's fortune was more ancient than 
 abundant, it was still the mellowness of the golden 
 element that struck him. It was Lady Beauchemin 
 who had told him that her father was not rich ; hav- 
 ing told him, besides this, many surprising things 
 things that were surprising in themselves or surpris- 
 ing on her lips. This struck him afresh later that 
 evening the day he met Sidney Feeder in the 
 Park. He dined out, in the company of Lady Beau- 
 chemin, and afterward, as she was alone her hus- 
 band had gone down to listen to a debate she offered 
 to " take him on." She was going to several places, 
 and he must be going to some of them. They com- 
 pared notes, and it was settled that they should pro- 
 ceed together to the Trumpingtons', whither, also, it 
 appeared at eleven o'clock that all the world was 
 
IL] LADY BARBERINA. 29 
 
 going, the approach to the house being choked for 
 half a mile with carriages. It was a close, muggy 
 night ; Lady Beauchemin's chariot, in its place in the 
 rank, stood still for long periods. In his corner be- 
 side her, through the open window, Jackson Lemon, 
 rather hot, rather oppressed, looked out on the moist, 
 greasy pavement, over which was flung, a considerable 
 distance up and down, the flare of a public-house. 
 Lady Beauchemin, however, was not impatient, for she 
 had a purpose in her mind, and now she could say 
 what she wished. 
 
 "Do you really love her?" That was the first 
 thing she said. 
 
 " Well, I guess so," Jackson Lemon answered, as if 
 he did not recognise the obligation to be serious. 
 
 Lady Beauchemin looked at him a moment in 
 silence ; he felt her gaze, and turning his eyes, saw 
 her face, partly shadowed, with the aid of a street- 
 lamp. She was not so pretty as Lady Barberina ; her 
 countenance had a certain sharpness ; her hair, very 
 light in colour and wonderfully frizzled, almost covered 
 her eyes, the expression of which, however, together 
 with that of her pointed nose, and the glitter of several 
 diamonds, emerged from the gloom. " You don't seem 
 to know. I never saw a man in such an odd state," 
 she presently remarked. 
 
 " You push me a little too much ; I must have 
 time to think of it," the young man went on. " You 
 know in my country they allow us plenty of time." 
 He had several little oddities of expression, of which 
 he was perfectly conscious, and which he found con- 
 venient, for they protected him in a society in which 
 a lonely American was rather exposed ; they gave him 
 the advantage which corresponded with certain draw- 
 
30 TALES OF THREE CITIES. [n. 
 
 backs. He had very few natural Americanisms, but 
 the occasional use of one, discreetly chosen, made him 
 appear simpler than he really was, and he had his 
 reasons for wishing this result. He was not simple ; 
 he was subtle, circumspect, shrewd, and perfectly aware 
 that he might make mistakes. There was a danger 
 of his making a mistake at present a mistake which 
 would be immensely grave. He was determined only 
 to succeed. It is true that for a great success he 
 would take a certain risk ; but the risk was to be 
 considered, and he gained time while he multiplied his 
 guesses and talked about his country. 
 
 " You may take ten years if you like," said Lady 
 Beauchemin. " I am in no hurry whatever to make 
 you my brother-in-law. Only you must remember 
 that you spoke to me first." 
 
 " What did I say ?" 
 
 " You told me that Barberina was the finest girl 
 you had seen in England." 
 
 " Oh, I am willing to stand by that ; I like her 
 type." 
 
 " I should think you might ! " 
 
 " I like her very much with all her peculiarities." 
 
 " What do you mean by her peculiarities ? " 
 
 " Well, she has some peculiar ideas," said Jackson 
 Lemon, in a tone of the sweetest reasonableness ; "and 
 she has a peculiar way of speaking." 
 
 " Ah, you can't expect us to speak as well as you!" 
 cried Lady Beauchemin. 
 
 " I don't know why not ; you do some things much 
 better." 
 
 " We have our own ways, at any rate, and we think 
 them the best in the world. One of them is not to 
 let a gentleman devote himself to a girl for three or 
 
IT.] LADY BAEBERINA. 31 
 
 four months without some sense of responsibility. If 
 you don't wish to marry my sister you ought to go 
 away." 
 
 " I ought never to have come," said Jackson Lemon. 
 
 " I can scarcely agree to that ; for I should have 
 lost the pleasure of knowing you." 
 
 " It would have spared you this duty, which you 
 dislike very much." 
 
 " Asking you about your intentions ? I don't dis- 
 like it at all ; it amuses me extremely." 
 
 " Should you like your sister to marry me ? " asked 
 Jackson Lemon, with great simplicity. 
 
 If he expected to take Lady Beauchemin by sur- 
 prise he was disappointed ; for she was perfectly pre- 
 pared to commit herself. " I should like it very much. 
 I think English and American society ought to be but 
 one I mean the best of each a great whole." 
 
 " Will you allow me to ask whether Lady Marma- 
 duke suggested that to you?" 
 
 " We have often talked of it." 
 
 '' Oh yes, that's her aim." 
 
 "Well, it's my aim too. I think there's a great 
 deal to be done." 
 
 "And you would like me to do it?" 
 
 " To begin it, precisely. Don't you think we ought 
 to see more of each other ? I mean the best in each 
 country." 
 
 Jackson Lemon was silent a moment. " I am 
 afraid I haven't any general ideas. If I should marry 
 an English girl it wouldn't be for the good of the 
 species." 
 
 " Well, we want to be mixed a little ; that I am 
 sure of," Lady Beauchemin said. 
 
 " You certainly got that from Lady Marmaduke." 
 
32 TALES OF THREE CITIES. [n. 
 
 " It's too tiresome, your not consenting to be 
 serious ! But my father will make you so," Lady 
 Beauchemin went on. " I may as well let you know 
 that he intends in a day or two to ask you your in- 
 tentions. That's all I wished to say to you. I think 
 you ought to be prepared." 
 
 " I am much obliged to you ; Lord Canterville will 
 do quite right." 
 
 There was, to Lady Beauchemin, something really 
 unfathomable in this little American doctor, whom 
 she had taken up on grounds of large policy, and who, 
 though he was assumed to have sunk the medical 
 character, was neither handsome nor distinguished, but 
 only immensely rich and quite original, for he was not 
 insignificant. It was unfathomable, to begin with, 
 that a medical man should be so rich, or that so rich 
 a man should be medical ; it was even, to an eye 
 which was always gratified by suitability, rather 
 irritating. Jackson Lemon himself could have ex- 
 plained it better than any one else, but this was an 
 explanation that one could scarcely ask for. There 
 were other things ; his cool acceptance of certain 
 situations ; his general indisposition to explain ; his 
 way of taking refuge in jokes which at times had not 
 even the merit of being American ; his way, too, of 
 appearing to be a suitor without being an aspirant. 
 Lady Beauchemin, however, was, like Jackson Lemon, 
 prepared to run a certain risk. His reserves made 
 him slippery; but that was only when one pressed. 
 She nattered herself that she could handle people 
 lightly. "My father will be sure to act with perfect 
 tact," she said ; " of course, if you shouldn't care to be 
 questioned, you can go out of town." She had the air 
 of really wishing to make everything easy for him. 
 
ii.] LADY BARBERINA. 33 
 
 " I don't want to go out of town ; I am enjoying it 
 far too much here/' her companion answered. "And 
 wouldn't your father have a right to ask me what I 
 meant by that ? " 
 
 Lady Beauchemin hesitated ; she was slightly per- 
 plexed. But in a moment she exclaimed : " He is 
 incapable of saying anything vulgar !" 
 
 She had not really answered his inquiry, and he 
 was conscious of that ; but he was quite ready to say 
 to her, a little later, as he guided her steps from the 
 brougham to the strip of carpet which, between 
 a somewhat rickety border of striped cloth and a 
 double row of waiting footmen, policemen and dingy 
 amateurs of both sexes, stretched from the curbstone 
 to the portal of the Trumpingtons, " Of course I shall 
 not wait for Lord Canterville to speak to me." 
 
 He had been expecting some such announcement 
 as this from Lady Beauchemin, and he judged that 
 her father would do no more than his duty. He 
 knew that he ought to be prepared with an answer 
 to Lord Canterville, and he wondered at himself for 
 not yet having come to the point. Sidney Feeder's 
 question in the Park had made him feel rather point- 
 less ; it was the first allusion that had been made to 
 his possible marriage, except on the part of Lady 
 Beauchemin. None of his own people were in Lon- 
 don; he was perfectly independent, and even if his 
 mother had been within reach he could not have 
 consulted her on the subject. He loved her dearly, 
 better than any one ; but she was not a woman to 
 consult, for she approved of whatever he did : it was 
 her standard. He was careful not to be too serious 
 when he talked with Lady Beauchemin ; but he was 
 very serious indeed as he thought over the matter 
 
34 TALES OF THEEE CITIES. [n. 
 
 within himself, which he did even among the diversions 
 of the next half-hour, while he squeezed obliquely 
 and slowly through the crush in Mrs. Trump- 
 ington's drawing-room. At the end of the half-hour 
 he came away, and at the door he found Lady Beau- 
 chemin, from whom he had separated on entering 
 the house, and who, this time with a companion of 
 her own sex, was awaiting her carriage and still 
 "going on." He gave her his arm into the street, 
 and as she stepped into the vehicle she repeated that 
 she wished he would go out of town for a few days. 
 
 " Who, then, would tell me what to do ? " he asked, 
 for answer, looking at her through the window. 
 
 She might tell him what to do, but he felt free, 
 all the same ; and he was determined this should 
 continue. To prove it to himself he jumped into a 
 hansom and drove back to Brook Street, to his hotel, 
 instead of proceeding to a bright-windowed house in 
 Portland Place, where he knew that after midnight 
 he should find Lady Canterville and her daughters. 
 There had been a reference to the subject between 
 Lady Barberina and himself during their ride, and 
 she would probably expect him ; but it made him 
 taste his liberty not to go, and he liked to taste his 
 liberty. He was aware that to taste it in perfection 
 he ought to go to bed ; but he did not go to bed, he 
 did not even take off his hat. He walked up and 
 down his sitting-room, with his head surmounted by 
 this ornament, a good deal tipped back, and his hands 
 in his pockets. There were a good many cards stuck 
 into the frame of the mirror, over his chimney-piece, 
 and every time he passed the place he seemed to see 
 what was written on one of them the name of the 
 mistress of the house in Portland Place, his own 
 
II.] LADY BARBERINA. 35 
 
 name, and, in the lower left-hand corner, the words : 
 "A small Dance." Of course, now, he must make 
 up his mind ; he would make it up to the next day : 
 that was what he said to himself as he walked up 
 and down; and according to his decision he would 
 speak to Lord Canterville or he would take the 
 night-express to Paris. It was better meanwhile 
 that he should not see Lady Barberina. It was vivid 
 to him, as he paused occasionally, looking vaguely at 
 that card in the chimney-glass, that he had come 
 pretty far; and he had come so far because he was 
 under the charm yes, he was in love with Lady 
 Barb. There was no doubt whatever of that ; he had 
 a faculty for diagnosis, and he knew perfectly well 
 what was the matter with him. He wasted no time 
 in musing upon the mystery of this passion, in won- 
 dering whether he might not have escaped it by a 
 little vigilance at first, or whether it would die out 
 if he should go away. He accepted it frankly, for 
 the sake of the pleasure it gave him the girl was 
 the delight of his eyes and confined himself to 
 considering w r hether such a marriage would square 
 with his general situation. This would not at all 
 necessarily follow from the fact that he was in love ; 
 too many other things would come in between. The 
 most important of these was the change, not only of 
 the geographical, but of the social, standpoint for his 
 wife, and a certain readjustment that it would involve 
 in his own relation to things. He was not inclined 
 to readjustments, and there was no reason why he 
 should be ; his own position was in most respects so 
 advantageous. But the girl tempted him almost irre- 
 sistibly, satisfying his imagination both as a lover 
 and as a student of the human organism ; she was so 
 
36 TALES OF THREE CITIES. [n. 
 
 blooming, so complete, of a type so rarely encoun- 
 tered in that degree of perfection. Jackson Lemon 
 was not an Anglo-maniac, but he admired the physi- 
 cal conditions of the English their complexion, 
 their temperament, their tissue; and Lady Barberina 
 struck him, in flexible, virginal form, as a wonderful 
 compendium of these elements. There was some- 
 thing simple and robust in her beauty; it had the 
 quietness of an old Greek statue, without the 
 vulgarity of the modern simper or of contemporary 
 prettiness. Her head was antique ; and though her 
 conversation was quite of the present period, Jackson 
 Lemon had said to himself that there was sure to be 
 in her soul a certain primitive sincerity which would 
 match with her facial mould. He saw her as she 
 might be in the future, the beautiful mother of 
 beautiful children, in whom the look of race should 
 be conspicious. He should like his children to have 
 the look of race, and he was not unaware that he 
 must take his precautions accordingly. A great many 
 people had it in England ; and it was a pleasure to 
 him to see it, especially as no one had it so unmis- 
 takably as the second daughter of Lord Canterville. 
 It would be a great luxury to call such a woman 
 one's own ; nothing could be more evident than that, 
 because it made no difference that she was not strik- 
 ingly clever. Striking cleverness was not a part of 
 harmonious form and the English complexion; it 
 was associated with the modern simper, which was 
 a result of modern nerves. If Jackson Lemon had 
 wanted a nervous wife, of course he could have found 
 her at home; but this tall, fair girl, whose character, 
 like her figure, appeared mainly to have been formed 
 by riding across country, was differently put together 
 
II.] LADY BARBERINA. 37 
 
 All the same, would it suit his book, as they said in 
 London, to marry her and transport her to New York ? 
 He came back to this question ; came back to it with 
 a persistency which, had she been admitted to a view 
 of it, would have tried the patience of Lady Beau- 
 chemin. She had been irritated, more than once, at 
 his appearing to attach himself so exclusively to this 
 horn of the dilemma as if it could possibly fail to 
 be a good thing for a little American doctor to marry 
 the daughter of an English peer. It would have 
 been more becoming, in her ladyship's eyes, that he 
 should take that for granted a little more, and the 
 consent of her ladyship's of their ladyships' 
 family a little less. They looked at the matter so 
 differently ! Jackson Lemon was conscious that if 
 he should marry Lady Barberina Clement it would 
 be because it suited him,, and not because it suited 
 his possible sisters-in-law. He believed that he acted 
 in all things by his own will an organ for which 
 he had the highest respect. 
 
 It would have seemed, however, that on this occa- 
 sion it was not working very regularly, for though 
 he had come home to go to bed, the stroke of half- 
 past twelve saw him jump, not into his couch, but 
 into a hansom which the whistle of the porter had 
 summoned to the door of his hotel, and in which he 
 rattled off to Portland Place. Here he found in a 
 very large house an assembly of three hundred 
 people, and a band of music concealed in a bower of 
 azaleas. Lady Canterville had not arrived ; he wan- 
 dered through the rooms and assured himself of that. 
 He also discovered a very good conservatory, where 
 there were banks and pyramids of azaleas. He 
 watched the top of the staircase, but it was a long 
 
38 TALES OF THREE CITIES. [n. 
 
 time before he saw what he was looking for, and 
 his impatience at last was extreme. The reward, 
 however, when it came, was all that he could have 
 desired. It was a little smile from Lady Barberina, 
 who stood behind her mother while the latter ex- 
 tended her finger-tips to the hostess. The entrance 
 of this charming woman, with her beautiful daugh- 
 ters always a noticeable incident was effected 
 with a certain brilliancy, and just now it was agree- 
 able to Jackson Lemon to think that it concerned 
 him more than any one else in the house. Tall, dazz- 
 ling, indifferent, looking about her as if she saw very 
 little, Lady Barberina was certainly a figure round 
 which a young man's fancy might revolve. She was 
 very quiet and simple, had little manner and little 
 movement ; but her detachment was not a vulgar art. 
 She appeared to efface herself, to wait till, in the 
 natural course, she should be attended to ; and in this 
 there was evidently no exaggeration, for she was too 
 proud not to have perfect confidence. Her sister, 
 smaller, slighter, with a little surprised smile, which 
 seemed to say that in her extreme innocence she was 
 yet prepared for anything, having heard, indirectly, 
 such extraordinary things about society, was much 
 more impatient and more expressive, and projected 
 across a threshold the pretty radiance of her eyes and 
 teeth before her mother's name was announced. Lady 
 Canterville was thought by many persons to be very 
 superior to her daughters ; she had kept even more 
 beauty than she had given them ; and it was a beauty 
 which had been called intellectual. She had extra- 
 ordinary sweetness, without any definite professions ; 
 her manner was mild almost to tenderness ; there was 
 even a kind of pity in it. Moreover, her features 
 
IT.] LADY BARBERINA. 39 
 
 were perfect, and nothing could be more gently gra- 
 cious than a way she had of speaking, or rather, of 
 listening, to people, with her head inclined a little 
 to one side. Jackson Lemon liked her very much, 
 and she had certainly been most kind to him. He 
 approached Lady Barberina as soon as he could do so 
 without an appearance of precipitation, and said to 
 her that he hoped very much she would not dance. 
 He was a master of the art which flourishes in New 
 York above every other, and he had guided her through 
 a dozen waltzes with a skill which, as she felt, left 
 absolutely nothing to be desired. But dancing was 
 not his business to-night. She smiled a little at the 
 expression of his hope. 
 
 " That is what mamma has brought us here for," 
 she said ; " she doesn't like it if we don't dance." 
 
 " How does she know whether she likes it or not ? 
 You have always danced." 
 
 " Once I didn't," said Lady Barberina. 
 
 He told her that, at any rate, he would settle it 
 with her mother, and persuaded her to wander with 
 him into the conservatory, where there were coloured 
 lights suspended among the plants, and a vault of 
 verdure overhead. In comparison with the other 
 rooms the conservatory was dusky and remote. But 
 they were not alone ; half a dozen other couples 
 were in possession. The gloom was rosy with the 
 slopes of azalea, and suffused with mitigated music, 
 which made it possible to talk without consideration 
 of one's neighbours. Nevertheless, though it was only 
 in looking back on the scene later that Lady Barberina 
 perceived this, these dispersed couples were talking 
 very softly. She did not look at them ; it seemed to 
 her that, virtually, she was alone with Jackson Lemon. 
 
40 TALES OF THREE CITIES. [IT. 
 
 She said something about conservatories, about the 
 fragrance of the air ; for all answer to which he asked 
 her, as he stood there before her, a question by which 
 she might have been exceedingly startled. 
 
 " How do people who marry in England ever know 
 each other before marriage ? They have no chance." 
 
 " I am sure I don't know," said Lady Barberina : 
 " I never was married." 
 
 " It's very different in my country. There a man 
 may see much of a girl ; he may come and see her, 
 he may be constantly alone with her. I wish you 
 allowed that over here." 
 
 Lady Barberina suddenly examined the less orna- 
 mental side of her fan, as if it had never occurred to 
 her before to look at it. " It must be so very odd, 
 America/' she murmured at last. 
 
 " Well, I guess in that matter we are right ; over 
 here it's a leap in the dark." 
 
 " I am sure I don't know," said the girl. She had 
 folded her fan; she stretched out her arm mechani- 
 cally and plucked a sprig of azalea. 
 
 "I guess it doesn't signify, after all," Jackson 
 Lemon remarked. " They say that love is blind at the 
 best." His keen young face was bent upon hers ; his 
 thumbs were in the pockets of his trousers ; he smiled 
 a little, showing his fine teeth. She said nothing, but 
 only pulled her azalea to pieces. She was usually so 
 quiet that this small movement looked restless. 
 
 " This is the first time I have seen you in the least 
 without a lot of people," he went on. 
 
 " Yes, it's very tiresome," she said. 
 
 "I have been sick of it; I didn't want to come 
 here to-night." 
 
 She had not met his eyes, though she knew they 
 
II.] LADY BAKBERINA. 41 
 
 were seeking her own. But now she looked at him 
 a moment. She had never objected to his appearance, 
 and in this respect she had no repugnance to over- 
 come. She liked a man to be tall and handsome, and 
 Jackson Lemon was neither; but when she was six- 
 teen, and as tall herself as she was to be at twenty, 
 she had been in love (for three weeks) with one of 
 her cousins, a little fellow in the Hussars, who was 
 shorter even than the American, shorter consequently 
 than herself. This proved that distinction might be 
 independent of stature not that she ever reasoned 
 it out. Jackson Lemon's facial spareness, his bright 
 little eye, which seemed always to be measuring 
 things, struck her as original, and she thought them 
 very cutting, which would do very well for a husband 
 of hers. As she made this reflection, of course it 
 never occurred to her that she herself might be cut; 
 she was not a sacrificial lamb. She perceived that 
 his features expressed a mind a mind that would 
 be rather effective. She would never have taken him 
 for a doctor ; though, indeed, when all was said, that 
 was very negative and didn't account for the way he 
 imposed himself. 
 
 " Why, then, did you come ? " she asked, in answer 
 to his last speech. 
 
 " Because it seems to me after all better to see you 
 in this way than not to see you at all ; I want to 
 know you better." 
 
 " I don't think I ought to stay here," said Lady 
 Barberina, looking round her. 
 
 "Don't go till I have told you I love you," mur- 
 mured the young man. 
 
 She made no exclamation, indulged in no start ; he 
 could not see even that she changed colour. She took 
 
42 TALES OF THREE CITIES. [n. 
 
 his request with a noble simplicity, with her head 
 erect and her eyes lowered. 
 
 " I don't think you have a right to tell me that." 
 
 " Why not ? " Jackson Lemon demanded. " I wish 
 to claim the right ; I wish you to give it to me." 
 
 " I can't I don't know you. You have said it 
 yourself." 
 
 " Can't you have a little faith ? That will help us 
 to know each other better. It's disgusting, the want 
 of opportunity ; even at Pasterns I could scarcely 
 get a walk with you. But I have the greatest faith 
 in you. I feel that I love you, and I couldn't do 
 more than that at the end of six months. I love your 
 beauty I love you from head to foot. Don't move, 
 please don't move." He lowered his tone; but it 
 went straight to her ear, and it must be believed that 
 it had a certain eloquence. For himself, after he had 
 heard himself say these words, all his being was in 
 a glow. It was a luxury to speak to her of her 
 beauty; it brought him nearer to her than he had 
 ever been. But the colour had come into her face, 
 and it seemed to remind him that her beauty was not 
 all. " Everything about you is sweet and noble," he 
 went on ; " everything is dear to me. I am sure you 
 are good. I don't know what you think of me; I 
 asked Lady Beauchemin to tell me, and she told me 
 to judge for myself. Well, then, I judge you like me. 
 Haven't I a right to assume that till the contrary is 
 proved ? May I speak to your father ? That's what 
 I want to know. I have been waiting ; but now what 
 should I wait for longer ? I want to be able to tell 
 him that you have given me some hope. I suppose I 
 ought to speak to him first. I meant to, to-morrow, 
 but meanwhile, to-night, I thought I would just put 
 
ii.] LADY BARBERINA. 43 
 
 this in. In my country it wouldn't matter particularly. 
 You must see all that over there for yourself. If you 
 should tell me not to speak to your father, I wouldn't ; 
 I would wait. But I like better to ask your leave to 
 speak to him than to ask his to speak to you." 
 
 His voice had sunk almost to a whisper; but, 
 though it trembled, his emotion gave it peculiar in- 
 tensity. He had the same attitude, his thumbs in his 
 trousers, his attentive head, his smile, which was a 
 matter of course ; no one would have imagined what 
 he was saying. She had listened without moving, and 
 at the end she raised her eyes. They rested on his a 
 moment, and he remembered, a good while later, the 
 look which passed her lids. 
 
 " You may say anything that you please to my 
 father, but I don't wish to hear any more. You have 
 said too much, considering how little idea you have 
 given me before." 
 
 " I was watching you," said Jackson Lemon. 
 
 Lady Barberina held her head higher, looking 
 straight at him. Then, quite seriously, " I don't like 
 to be watched," she remarked. 
 
 " You shouldn't be so beautiful, then. Won't you 
 give me a word of hope ? " he added. 
 
 " I have never supposed I should marry a for- 
 eigner," said Lady Barberina. 
 
 "Do you call me a foreigner ? " 
 
 " I think your ideas are very different, and your 
 country is different ; you have told me so yourself." 
 
 " I should like to show it to you ; I would make 
 you like it." 
 
 " I am not sure what you would make me do," said 
 Lady Barberina, very honestly. 
 
 " Nothing that you don't want." 
 
44 TALES OF THREE CITIES. [n. 
 
 "I am sure you would try," she declared, with 
 a smile. 
 
 " Well," said Jackson Lemon, " after all, I am 
 trying now." 
 
 To this she simply replied she must go to her 
 mother, and he was obliged to lead her out of the 
 conservatory. Lady Canterville was not immediately 
 found, so that he had time to murmur as they went, 
 " Now that I have spoken, I am very happy." 
 
 " Perhaps you are happy* too soon," said the girl. 
 
 " Ah, don't say that, Lady Barb." 
 
 " Of course I must think of it." 
 
 " Of course you must ! " said Jackson Lemon. " I 
 will speak to your father to-morrow." 
 
 " I can't fancy what he will say." 
 
 " How can he dislike me ? " the young man asked, 
 in a tone which Lady Beauchemin, if she had heard 
 him, would have been forced to attribute to his gen- 
 eral affectation of the jocose. What Lady Beauche- 
 inin's sister thought of it is not recorded ; but there 
 is perhaps a clue to her opinion in the answer she 
 made him after a moment's silence : " Eeally, you 
 know, you are a foreigner ! " With this she turned 
 her back upon him, for she was already in her 
 mother's hands. Jackson Lemon said a few words 
 to Lady Canterville ; they were chiefly about its 
 being very hot. She gave him her vague, sweet 
 attention, as if he were saying something ingenious 
 of which she missed the point. He could see that 
 she was thinking of the doings of her daughter 
 Agatha., whose attitude toward the contemporary 
 young man was wanting in the perception of differ- 
 ences a madness without method ; she was evidently 
 not occupied with Lady Barberina, who was more to be 
 
in.] LADY BARBERINA. 45 
 
 trusted. This young woman never met her suitor's 
 eyes again ; she let her own rest, rather ostentatiously, 
 upon other objects. At last he was going away with- 
 out a glance from her. Lady Canterville had asked 
 him to come to lunch on the morrow, and he had 
 said he would do so if she would promise him he 
 should see his lordship. I can't pay you another 
 visit until I have had some talk with him/' he said. 
 
 " I don't see why not ; but if I speak to him I 
 dare say he will be at home," she answered. 
 
 " It will be worth his while !" 
 
 Jackson Lemon left the house reflecting that as he 
 had never proposed to a girl before he could not be 
 expected to know how women demean themselves in 
 this emergency. He had heard, indeed, that Lady 
 Barb had had no end of offers ; and though he thought 
 it probable that the number was exaggerated, as it 
 always is, it was to be supposed that her way of 
 appearing suddenly to have dropped him was but the 
 usual behaviour for the occasion. 
 
 III. 
 
 AT her mother's the next day she was absent from 
 luncheon, and Lady Canterville mentioned to him (he 
 didn't ask) that she had gone to see a dear old great- 
 aunt, who was also her godmother, and who lived at 
 Roehampton. Lord Canterville was not present, but 
 our young man was informed by his hostess that he 
 had promised her he would come in exactly at three 
 o'clock. Jackson Lemon lunched with Lady Canter- 
 ville and the children, who appeared in force at this 
 repast, all the younger girls being present, and two 
 
46 TALES OF THREE CITIES. [in. 
 
 little boys, the juniors of the two sons who were in 
 their teens. Jackson, who was very fond of children, 
 and thought these absolutely the finest in the world- 
 magnificent specimens of a magnificent brood, such 
 as it would be so satisfactory in future days to see 
 about his own knee Jackson felt that he was being 
 treated as one of the family, but was not frightened 
 by what he supposed the privilege to imply. Lady 
 Canterville betrayed no consciousness whatever of his 
 having mooted the question of becoming her son-in- 
 law, and he believed that her eldest daughter had not 
 told her of their talk the night before. This idea 
 gave him pleasure ; he liked to think that Lady Barb 
 was judging him for herself. Perhaps, indeed, she 
 was taking counsel of the old lady at Koeharnpton : 
 he believed that he was the sort of lover of whom a 
 godmother would approve. Godmothers in his mind 
 were mainly associated with fairy-tales (he had had 
 no baptismal sponsors of his own) ; and that point of 
 view would be favourable to a young man with a great 
 deal of gold who had suddenly arrived from a foreign 
 country an apparition, surely, sufficiently elfish. 
 He made up his mind that he should like Lady Can- 
 terville as a mother-in-law ; she would be too well- 
 bred to meddle. Her husband came in at three 
 o'clock, just after they had left the table, and said to 
 Jackson Lemon that it was very good in him to have 
 waited. 
 
 11 1 haven't waited," Jackson replied, with his watch 
 in his hand ; " you are punctual to the minute." 
 
 I know not how Lord Canterville may have judged 
 his young friend, but Jackson Lemon had been told 
 more than once in his life that he was a very good 
 fellow, but rather too literal. After he had lighted a 
 
in.] LADY BARBERINA. 47 
 
 cigarette in his lordship's " den/' a large brown apart- 
 ment on the ground-floor, which partook at once of 
 the nature of an office and of that of a harness-room 
 (it could not have been called in any degree a library), 
 he went straight to the point in these terms : " Well 
 now, Lord Canterville, I feel as if I ought to let you 
 know without more delay that I am in love with 
 Lady Barb, and that I should like to marry her." So 
 he spoke, puffing his cigarette, with his conscious but 
 unextenuating eye fixed on his host. 
 
 No man, as I have intimated, bore better being 
 looked at than this noble personage ; he seemed to 
 bloom in the envious warmth of human contemplation, 
 and never appeared so faultless as when he was most 
 exposed. " My dear fellow, my dear fellow," he mur- 
 mured, almost in disparagement, stroking his ambrosial 
 beard from before the empty fireplace. He lifted his 
 eyebrows, but he looked perfectly good-natured. 
 
 " Are you surprised, sir ? " Jackson Lemon asked. 
 
 " Why, I suppose any one is surprised at a man 
 wanting one of his children. He sometimes feels the 
 weight of that sort of thing so much, you know. He 
 wonders what the devil another man wants of them." 
 And Lord Canterville laughed pleasantly out of the 
 copious fringe of his lips. 
 
 " I only want one of them," said Jackson Lemon, 
 laughing too, but with a lighter organ. 
 
 " Polygamy would be rather good for the parents. 
 However, Louisa told me the other night that she 
 thought you were looking the way you speak of." 
 
 " Yes, I told Lady Beauchemin that I love Lady 
 Barb, and she seemed to think it was natural." 
 
 " Oh yes, I suppose there's no want of nature in it ! 
 But, my dear fellow, I really don't know what to say." 
 
48 TALES OF THREE CITIES. [in. 
 
 "Of course you'll have to think of it." Jackson 
 Lemon, in saying this, felt that he was making the 
 most liberal concession to the point of view of his 
 interlocutor; being perfectly aware that in his own 
 country it was not left much to the parents to think of. 
 
 " I shall have to talk it over with my wife." 
 
 " Lady Canterville has been very kind to me ; I 
 hope she will continue." 
 
 " My dear fellow, we are excellent friends. No 
 one could appreciate you more than Lady Canterville. 
 Of course we can only consider such a question on 
 the a the highest grounds. You would never want 
 to marry without knowing, as it were, exactly what 
 you are doing. I, on my side, naturally, you know, 
 am bound to do the best I can for my own child. At 
 the same time, of course, we don't want to spend our 
 time in a walking round the horse, We want to 
 keep to the main line." It was settled between them 
 after a little that the main line was that Jackson Lemon 
 knew to a certainty the state of his affections and was 
 in a position to pretend to the hand of a young lady 
 who, Lord Canterville might say of course, you 
 know, without any swagger had a right to expect 
 to do well, as the women call it. 
 
 " I should think she had," Jackson Lemon said ; 
 "she's a beautiful type." 
 
 Lord Canterville stared a moment. " She is a 
 clever, well-grown girl, and she takes her fences like 
 a grasshopper. Does she know all this, by the way ? " 
 he added. 
 
 " Oh yes, I told her last night." 
 
 Again Lord Canterville had the air, unusual with 
 him, of returning his companion's scrutiny. " I am not 
 sure that you ought to have done that, you know." 
 
in,] LADY BARBERINA. 49 
 
 " I couldn't have spoken to you first I couldn't," 
 said Jackson Lemon. " I meant to, but it stuck in 
 my crop." 
 
 " They don't in your country, I guess," his lordship 
 returned, smiling. 
 
 " Well, not as a general thing ; however, I find it 
 very pleasant to discuss with you now." And in 
 truth it was very pleasant. Nothing could be easier, 
 friendlier, more informal, than Lord Canterville's man- 
 ner, which implied all sorts of equality, especially that 
 of age and fortune, and made Jackson Lemon feel at 
 the end of three minutes almost as if he too w r ere a 
 beautifully preserved and somewhat straitened noble- 
 man of sixty, with the views of a man of the world 
 about his own marriage. The young American 
 perceived that Lord Canterville waived the point of 
 his having spoken first to the girl herself, and saw in 
 this indulgence a just concession to the ardour of young 
 affection. For Lord Canterville seemed perfectly to 
 appreciate the sentimental side at least so far as it 
 was embodied in his visitor when he said, without 
 deprecation : " Did she give you any encouragement ? " 
 
 " Well, she didn't box my ears. She told me that 
 she would think of it, but that I must speak to you. 
 But, naturally, I shouldn't have said what I did to her 
 if I hadn't made up my mind during the last fortnight 
 that I am not disagreeable to her." 
 
 " Ah, my dear young man, women are odd cattle ! " 
 Lord Canterville exclaimed, rather unexpectedly. " But 
 of course you know all that," he added in an instant ; 
 " you take the general risk." 
 
 " 1 am perfectly willing to take the general risk ; 
 the particular risk is small." 
 
 " Well, upon my honour I don't really know my 
 E 
 
50 TALES OF THREE CITIES. [ill. 
 
 girls. You see a man's time, in England, is tremen- 
 dously taken up ; but I dare say it's the same in your 
 country. Their mother knows them I think I had 
 better send for their mother. If you don't mind I'll 
 just suggest that she join us here." 
 
 " I'm rather afraid of you both together, but if it 
 
 will settle it any quicker " said Jackson Lemon. 
 
 Lord Canterville rang the bell, and, when a servant 
 appeared, despatched him with a message to her lady- 
 ship. While they were waiting, the young man 
 remembered that it was in his power to give a more 
 definite account of his pecuniary basis. He had simply 
 said before that he was abundantly able to marry ; he 
 shrank from putting himself forward as a billionaire. 
 He had a fine taste, and he wished to appeal to Lord 
 Canterville primarily as a gentleman. But now that 
 he had to make a double impression, he bethought 
 himself of his millions, for millions were always 
 impressive. " I think it only fair to let you know 
 that my fortune is really very considerable," he 
 remarked. 
 
 " Yes, I dare say you are beastly rich," said Lord 
 Canterville. 
 
 " I have about seven millions." 
 
 "Seven millions?" 
 
 " I count in dollars ; upwards of a million and a 
 half sterling." 
 
 Lord Canterville looked at him from head to foot, 
 with an air of cheerful resignation to a form of gross- 
 ness which threatened to become common. Then he said, 
 with a touch of that inconsequence of which he had 
 already given a glimpse : " What the deuce, then, 
 possessed you to turn doctor ? " 
 
 Jackson Lemon coloured a little, hesitated, and 
 
in.] LADY BARBERINA. 51 
 
 then replied, quickly : " Because I had the talent 
 for it." 
 
 " Of course, I don't for a moment doubt of your 
 ability ; but don't you find it rather a bore ? " 
 
 " I don't practise much. I am rather ashamed to 
 say that." 
 
 " Ah, well, of course, in your country it's different. 
 I dare say you've got a door-plate, eh ? " 
 
 " Oh yes, and a tin sign tied to the balcony ! " said 
 Jackson Lemon, smiling. 
 
 " What did your father say to it ? " 
 
 " To my going into medicine ? He said he would 
 be hanged if he'd take any of my doses. He didn't 
 think I should succeed ; he wanted me to go into the 
 house." 
 
 " Into the House a " said Lord Canterville, 
 
 hesitating a little. " Into your Congress yes, ex- 
 actly." 
 
 Ah, no, not so bad as that. Into the store," Jack- 
 son Lemon replied, in the candid tone in which he 
 expressed himself when, for reasons of his own, he 
 wished to be perfectly national. 
 
 Lord Canterville stared, not venturing, even for 
 the moment, to hazard an interpretation ; and before 
 a solution had presented itself Lady Canterville came 
 into the room. 
 
 " My dear, I thought we had better see you. Do 
 you know he wants to marry our second girl ? " It 
 was in these simple terms that her husband acquainted 
 her with the question. 
 
 Lady Canterville expressed neither surprise nor 
 elation ; she simply stood there, smiling, with her head 
 a little inclined to the side, with all her customary 
 graciousness. Her charming eyes rested on those of 
 
52 TALES OF THREE CITIES. [in. 
 
 Jackson Lemon ; and though they seemed to show 
 that she had to think a little of so serious a proposi- 
 tion, his own discovered in them none of the coldness 
 of calculation. " Are you talking about Barberina ? " 
 she asked in a moment, as if her thoughts had been 
 far away. 
 
 Of course they were talking about Barberina, and 
 Jackson Lemon repeated to her ladyship what he had 
 said to the girl's father. He had thought it all over, 
 and his mind was quite made up. Moreover, he had 
 spoken to Lady Barb. 
 
 " Did she tell you that, my dear ? " asked Lord 
 Canterville, while he lighted another cigar. 
 
 She gave no heed to this inquiry, which had been 
 vague and accidental on his lordship's part, but simply 
 said to Jackson Lemon that the thing was very serious, 
 and that they had better sit down for a moment. In 
 an instant he was near her on the sofa on which she 
 had placed herself, still smiling and looking up at her 
 husband with an air of general meditation, in which a 
 sweet compassion for every one concerned was apparent. 
 
 " Barberina has told me nothing," she said, after a 
 little. 
 
 " That proves she cares for me !" Jackson Lemon 
 exclaimed eagerly. 
 
 Lady Canterville looked as if she thought this 
 almost too ingenious, almost professional; but her 
 husband said cheerfully, jovially : " Ah, well, if she 
 cares for you, I don't object." 
 
 This was a little ambiguous ; but before Jackson 
 Lemon had time to look into it, Lady Canterville asked 
 gently : " Should you expect her to live in America ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes ; that's my home, you know." 
 
 " Shouldn't you be living sometimes in England ? " 
 
in.] LADY BARBERINA. 53 
 
 " Oh, yes, we'll come over and see you." The 
 young man was in love, he wanted to marry, he wanted 
 to be genial, and to commend himself to the parents 
 of Lady Barb ; at the same time it was in his nature 
 not to accept conditions, save in so far as they exactly 
 suited him, to tie himself, or, as they said in New 
 York, Jbo give himself away. In any transaction he 
 preferred his own terms to those of any one else. 
 Therefore, the moment Lady Canterville gave signs 
 of wishing to extract a promise, he was on his guard. 
 
 " She'll find it very different ; perhaps she won't 
 like it," her ladyship suggested. 
 
 "If she likes me, she'll like my country," said 
 Jackson Lemon, with decision. 
 
 " He tells me he has got a plate on his door," Lord 
 Canterville remarked humorously. 
 
 " We must talk to her, of course ; we must under- 
 stand how she feels," said his wife, looking more 
 serious than she had done as yet. 
 
 " Please don't discourage her, Lady Canterville," 
 the young man begged ; " and give me a chance to 
 talk to her a little more myself. You haven't given 
 me much chance, you know." 
 
 " We don't offer our daughters to people, Mr. 
 Lemon." Lady Canterville was always gentle, but 
 now she was a little majestic. 
 
 " She isn't like some women in London, you know," 
 said Jackson Lemon's host, who seemed to remember 
 that to a discussion of such importance he ought from 
 time to time to contribute a word of wisdom. And 
 Jackson Lemon, certainly, if the idea had been pre- 
 sented to him, would have said that, No, decidedly, 
 Lady Barberina had not been thrown at him. 
 
 " Of course not," he declared, in answer to her 
 
54 TALES OF THREE CITIES. [in. 
 
 mother's remark. " But, you know, you mustn't 
 refuse them too much, either; you mustn't make a 
 poor fellow wait too long. I admire her, I love her, 
 more than I can say ; I give you my word of honour 
 for that." 
 
 "He seems to think that settles it," said Lord 
 Canterville, smiling down at the young American, 
 very indulgently, from his place before the cold 
 chimney-piece. 
 
 " Of course that's what we desire, Philip," her 
 ladyship returned, very nobly. 
 
 " Lady Barb believes it ; I am sure she does ! " 
 Jackson Lemon exclaimed. " Why should I pretend 
 to be in love with her if I am not ? " 
 
 Lady Canterville received this inquiry in silence, 
 and her husband, with just the least air in the world 
 of repressed impatience, began to walk up and down 
 the room. He was a man of many engagements, and 
 he had been closeted for more than a quarter of an 
 hour with the young American doctor. "Do you 
 imagine you should come often to England ? " Lady 
 Canterville demanded, with a certain abruptness, 
 returning to that important point. 
 
 " I'm afraid I can't tell you that ; of course we 
 shall do whatever seems best." He was prepared to 
 suppose they should cross the Atlantic every summer : 
 that prospect was by no means displeasing to him ; 
 but he was not prepared to give any such pledge to 
 Lady Canterville, especially as he did not believe it 
 would really be necessary. It was in his mind, not 
 as an overt pretension, but as a tacit implication, that 
 he should treat with Barberina's parents on a footing 
 of perfect equality; and there would somehow be 
 nothing equal if he should begin to enter into engage- 
 
in.] LADY BAltBE'RINA. 55 
 
 ments which didn't belong to the essence of the 
 matter. They were to give their daughter, and he 
 was to take her : in this arrangement there would be 
 as much on one side as on the other. But beyond 
 this he had nothing to ask of them ; there was nothing 
 he wished them to promise, and his own pledges, 
 therefore, would have no equivalent. Whenever his 
 wife should wish it, she should come over and see her 
 people. Her home was to be in New York ; but he 
 was tacitly conscious that on the question of absences 
 he should be very liberal. Nevertheless, there was 
 something in the very grain of his character which 
 forbade that he should commit himself at present in 
 respect to times and dates. 
 
 Lady Canterville looked at her husband, but her 
 husband was not attentive ; he was taking a peep at 
 his watch. In a moment, however, he threw out a 
 remark to the effect that he thought it a capital thing 
 that the two countries should become more united, 
 and there was nothing that would bring it about 
 better than a few of the best people on both sides 
 pairing off together. The English, indeed, had begun 
 it; a lot of fellows had brought over a lot of pretty 
 girls, and it was quite fair play that the Americans 
 should take their pick. They were all one race, after 
 all; and why shouldn't they make one society the 
 best on both sides, of course ? Jackson Lemon smiled 
 as he recognised Lady Marmaduke's philosophy, and 
 he was pleased to think that Lady Beauchemin had 
 some influence with her father ; for he was sure the 
 old gentleman (as he mentally designated his host) 
 had got all this from her, though he expressed himself 
 less happily than the cleverest of his daughters. Our 
 hero had no objection to make to it, especially if there 
 
56 TALES OF THREE CITIES. [in. 
 
 was anything in it that would really help his case. 
 But it was not in the least on these high grounds 
 that he had sought the hand of Lady Barb. He 
 wanted her not in order that her people and his (the 
 best on both sides !) should make one society ; he 
 wanted her simply because he wanted her. Lady 
 Canterville smiled; but she seemed to have another 
 thought. 
 
 " I quite appreciate what my husband says ; but I 
 don't see why poor Barb should be the one to begin." 
 
 " I dare say she'll like it," said Lord Canterville, 
 as if he were attempting a short cut. " They say you 
 spoil your women awfully." 
 
 " She's not one of their women yet," her ladyship 
 remarked, in the sweetest tone in the world ; and 
 then she added, without Jackson Lemon's knowing 
 exactly what she meant, " It seems so strange." 
 
 He was a little irritated ; and perhaps these simple 
 words added to the feeling. There had been no 
 positive opposition to his suit, and Lord and Lady 
 Canterville were most kind; but he felt that they 
 held back a little, and though he had not expected 
 them to throw themselves on his neck, he was rather 
 disappointed, his pride was touched. Why should 
 they hesitate ? He considered himself such a good 
 parti. It was not so much the old gentleman, it was 
 Lady Canterville. As he saw the old gentleman look, 
 covertly, a second time at his watch, he could have 
 believed he would have been glad to settle the matter 
 on the spot. Lady Canterville seemed to wish her 
 daughter's lover to come forward more, to give certain 
 assurances and guarantees. He felt that he was ready 
 to say or do anything that was a matter of proper 
 form; but he couldn't take the tone of trying to 
 
in.] LADY BARBERINA. 57 
 
 purchase her ladyship's consent, penetrated as he was 
 with the conviction that such a man as he could be 
 trusted to care for his wife rather more than an 
 impecunious British peer and his wife could be sup- 
 posed (with the lights he had acquired in English 
 society) to care even for the handsomest of a dozen 
 children. It was a mistake on Lady Canterville's 
 part not to recognise that. He humoured her mistake 
 to the extent of saying, just a little drily, " My wife 
 shall certainly have everything she wants." 
 
 " He tells me he is disgustingly rich," Lord Canter- 
 ville added, pausing before their companion with his 
 hands in his pockets. 
 
 " I am glad to hear it ; but it isn't so much that," 
 she answered, sinking back a little on her sofa. If it 
 was not that, she did not say what it was, though she 
 had looked for a moment as if she were going to. She 
 only raised her eyes to her husband's face, as if to 
 ask for inspiration. I know not whether she found 
 it, but in a moment she said to Jackson Lemon, 
 seeming to imply that it was quite another point : 
 " Do you expect to continue your profession ? " 
 
 He had no such intention, so far as his profession 
 meant getting up at three o'clock in the morning to 
 assuage the ills of humanity ; but here, as before, the 
 touch of such a question instantly stiffened him. 
 " Oh, my profession ! I am rather ashamed of that 
 matter. I have neglected my work so much, I don't 
 know what I shall be able to do, once I am really 
 settled at home." 
 
 Lady Canterville received these remarks in silence; 
 fixing her eyes again upon her husband's face. But 
 this nobleman was really not helpful ; still with his 
 hands in his pockets, save when he needed to remove 
 
58 TALES OF THEEE CITIES. [in. 
 
 his cigar from his lips, he went and looked out of the 
 window. " Of course we know you don't practise, 
 and when you're a married man you will have less 
 time even than now. But I should really like to 
 know if they call you Doctor over there." 
 
 " Oh yes, universally. We are nearly as fond of 
 titles as your people." 
 
 " I don't call that a title." 
 
 " It's not so good as duke or marquis, I admit ; 
 but we have to take what we have got." 
 
 "Oh, bother, what does it signify?" Lord Canter- 
 ville demanded, from his place at the window. " I 
 used to have a horse named Doctor, and a devilish 
 good one too." 
 
 " You may call me bishop, if you like," said Jack- 
 son Lemon, laughing. 
 
 Lady Canterville looked grave, as if she did not en- 
 joy this pleasantry. " I don't care for any titles," she 
 observed ; " I don't see why a gentleman shouldn't 
 be called Mr." 
 
 It suddenly appeared to Jackson Lemon that there 
 was something helpless, confused, and even slightly 
 comical, in the position of this noble and amiable 
 lady. The impression made him feel kindly ; he too, 
 like Lord Canterville, had begun to long for a short 
 cut. He relaxed a moment, and leaning toward his 
 hostess, with a smile and his hands on his little 
 knees, he said softly, " It seems to me a question of 
 no importance ; all I desire is that you should call 
 me your son-in-law." 
 
 Lady Canterville gave him her hand, and he pressed 
 it almost affectionately. Then she got up, remarking 
 that before anything was decided she must see her 
 daughter, she must learn from her own lips the state 
 
m.] LADY BAKBERINA. 59 
 
 of her feelings. " I don't like at all her not having 
 spoken to me already," she added. 
 
 " "Where has she gone to Eoehampton ? I dare 
 say she has told it all to her godmother," said Lord 
 Canterville. 
 
 " She won't have much to tell, poor girl !" Jackson 
 Lemon exclaimed. " I must really insist upon seeing 
 with more freedom the person I wish to marry." 
 
 " You shall have all the freedom you want, in two 
 or three days," said Lady Canterville. She smiled 
 with all her sweetness ; she appeared to have accepted 
 him, and yet still to be making tacit assumptions. 
 "Are there not certain things to be talked of first ?" 
 
 " Certain things, clear lady ? " 
 
 Lady Canterville looked at her husband, and though 
 he was still at his window, this time he felt it in her 
 silence, and had to come away and speak. " Oh, she 
 means settlements, and that kind of thing." This 
 was an allusion which came with a much better grace 
 from him. 
 
 Jackson Lemon looked from one of his companions 
 to the other ; he coloured a little, and gave a smile 
 that was perhaps a trifle fixed. " Settlements ? We 
 don't make them in the United States. You may be 
 sure I shall make a proper provision for my wife." 
 
 " My dear fellow, over here in our class, you 
 know, it's the custom," said Lord Canterville, with a 
 richer brightness in his face at the thought that the 
 discussion was over. 
 
 " I have my own ideas/' Jackson answered, smiling. 
 
 " It seems to me it's a question for the solicitors to 
 discuss," Lady Canterville suggested. 
 
 " They may discuss it as much as they please," said 
 Jackson Lemon, with a laugh. He thought he saw 
 
60 TALES OF THREE CITIES. [in. 
 
 his solicitors discussing it ! He had indeed his own 
 ideas. He opened the door for Lady Canterville, and 
 the three passed out of the room together, walking 
 into the hall in a silence in which there was just a 
 tinge of awkwardness. A note had been struck which 
 grated and scratched a little. A pair of brilliant 
 footmen, at their approach, rose from a bench to a 
 great altitude, and stood there like sentinels present- 
 ing arms. Jackson Lemon stopped, looking for a 
 moment into the interior of his hat, which he had in 
 his hand. Then, raising his keen eyes, he fixed them 
 a moment on those of Lady Canterville, addressing 
 her, instinctively, rather than her husband. " I guess 
 you and Lord Canterville had better leave it to me ! " 
 
 "We have our traditions, Mr. Lemon," said her 
 ladyship, with nobleness. " I imagine you don't 
 know " she murmured. 
 
 Lord Canterville laid his hand on the young man's 
 shoulder. " My dear boy, those fellows will settle it 
 in three minutes." 
 
 " Very likely they will ! " said Jackson Lemon. 
 Then he asked of Lady Canterville when he might see 
 Lady Barb. 
 
 She hesitated a moment, in her gracious way. " I 
 will write you a note." 
 
 One of the tall footmen, at the end of the impres- 
 sive vista, had opened wide the portals, as if even he 
 were aware of the dignity to which the little visitor 
 had virtually been raised. But Jackson lingered a 
 moment ; he was visibly unsatisfied, though apparently 
 so little unconscious that he was unsatisfying. " I 
 don't think you understand me." 
 
 " Your ideas are certainly different," said Lady 
 Canterville. 
 
in.] LADY BARBERINA. 61 
 
 " If the girl understands you, that's enough ! " Lord 
 Canterville exclaimed in a jovial, detached,irrelevant way. 
 
 " May not she write to me ? " Jackson asked of her 
 mother. " I certainly must write to her, you know, if 
 you won't let me see her." 
 
 " Oh yes, you may write to her, Mr. Lemon." 
 
 There was a point for a moment in the look that 
 he gave Lady Canterville, while he said to himself 
 that if it were necessary he would transmit his notes 
 through the old lady at Roehampton. "All right, 
 good-bye ; you know what I want, at any rate." Then, 
 as he was going, he turned and added : " You needn't 
 be afraid that I won't bring her over in the hot 
 weather ! " 
 
 " In the hot weather ? " Lady Canterville murmured, 
 with vague visions of the torrid zone, while the young 
 American quitted the house with the sense that he had 
 made great concessions. 
 
 " His host and hostess passed into a small morning- 
 room, and (Lord Canterville having taken up his hat 
 and stick to go out again) stood there a moment, face 
 to face. 
 
 " It's clear enough he wants her," said his lordship, 
 in a summary manner. 
 
 "There's something so odd about him," Lady Can- 
 terville answered. "Fancy his speaking so about 
 settlements !" 
 
 " You had better give him his head ; he'll go much 
 quieter." 
 
 " He's so obstinate very obstinate ; it's easy to 
 see that. And he seems to think a girl in your 
 daughter's position can be married from one day to 
 the other with a ring and a new frock like a 
 housemaid." 
 
62 TALES OF THREE CITIES. [in. 
 
 " Well, of course, over there, that's the kind of 
 thing. But he seems really to have a most extra- 
 ordinary fortune ; and every one does say their women 
 have carte blanche" 
 
 11 Carte "blanche is not what Barb wishes ; she wishes 
 a settlement. She wants a definite income ; she wants 
 to be safe." 
 
 Lord Canterville stared a moment. " Has she told 
 
 you so ? I thought you said " And then he 
 
 stopped. " I beg your pardon," he added. 
 
 Lady Canterville gave no explanation of her incon- 
 sistency. She went on to remark that American 
 fortunes were notoriously insecure ; one heard of 
 nothing else ; they melted away like smoke. It was 
 their duty to their child to demand that something 
 should be fixed. 
 
 " He has a million and a half sterling," said Lord 
 Canterville. " I can't make out what he does with it." 
 
 " She ought to have something very handsome," his 
 wife remarked. 
 
 " Well, my dear, you must settle it : you must con- 
 sider it ; you must send for Hilary. Only take care 
 you don't put him off; it may be a very good opening, 
 you know. There is a great deal to be done out 
 there ; I believe in all that," Lord Canterville went on, 
 in the tone of a conscientious parent. 
 
 " There is no doubt that he is a doctor in those 
 places," said Lady Canterville, musingly. 
 
 " He may be a pedlar for all I care." 
 
 " If they should go out, I think Agatha might go 
 with them," her ladyship continued, in the same tone, 
 a little disconnectedly. 
 
 "You may send them all out if you like. Good- 
 bye 1 " And Lord Canterville kissed his wife. 
 
iv. J LADY BARBEKINA. 63 
 
 But she detained him a moment, with her hand on 
 his arm. "Don't you think he is very much in 
 love?" 
 
 " Oh yes, he's very bad ; but he's a clever little 
 beggar." 
 
 " She likes him very much," Lady Canterville 
 announced, rather formally, as they separated. 
 
 IV. 
 
 JACKSON LEMON had said to Sidney Feeder in the 
 Park that he would call on Mr. and Mrs. Freer; but 
 three weeks elapsed before he knocked at their door 
 in Jermyn Street. In the meantime he had met them 
 at dinner, and Mrs. Freer had told him that she hoped 
 very much he would find time to come and see her. 
 She had not reproached him, nor shaken her finger at 
 him; and her clemency, which was calculated, and 
 very characteristic of her, touched him so much (for he 
 was in fault ; she was one of his mother's oldest and 
 best friends), that he very soon presented himself. It 
 was on a fine Sunday afternoon, rather late, and the 
 region of Jermyn Street looked forsaken and inani- 
 mate ; the native dulness of the landscape appeared 
 in all its purity. Mrs. Freer, however, was at home, 
 resting on a lodging-house sofa an angular couch, 
 draped in faded chintz before she went to dress for 
 dinner. She made the young man very welcome ; she 
 told him she had been thinking of him a great deal ; 
 she had wished to have a chance to talk with him. 
 He immediately perceived what she had in mind, and 
 then he remembered that Sidney Feeder had told him 
 what it was that Mr. and Mrs. Freer took upon them- 
 
64 TALES OF THREE CITIES. [iv. 
 
 selves to say. This had provoked him at the time, 
 but he had forgotten it afterward ; partly because he 
 became aware, that same evening, that he did wish to 
 marry the "young marchioness/' and partly because 
 since then he had had much greater annoyances. Yes, 
 the poor young man, so conscious of liberal intentions, 
 of a large way of looking at the future, had had much 
 to irritate and disgust him. He had seen the mistress 
 of his affections but three or four times, and he had 
 received letters from Mr. Hilary, Lord Canterville's 
 solicitor, asking him, in terms the most obsequious, it 
 is true, to designate some gentleman of the law with 
 whom the preliminaries of his marriage to Lady Bar- 
 berina Clement might be arranged. He had given Mr. 
 Hilary the name of such a functionary, but he had 
 written by the same post to his own solicitor (for 
 whose services in other matters he had had much 
 occasion, Jackson Lemon being distinctly contentious), 
 instructing him that he was at liberty to meet Mr. 
 Hilary, but not at liberty to entertain any proposals 
 as to this odious English idea of a settlement. If 
 marrying Jackson Lemon were not settlement enough, 
 then Lord and Lady Canterville had better alter their 
 point of view. It was quite out of the question that 
 he should alter his. It would perhaps be difficult to 
 explain the strong aversion that he entertained to the 
 introduction into his prospective union of this harsh 
 diplomatic element ; it was as if they mistrusted him, 
 suspected him ; as if his hands were to be tied, so that 
 he could not handle his own fortune as he thought 
 best. It was not the idea of parting with his money 
 that displeased him, for he flattered himself that he 
 had plans of expenditure for his wife beyond even the 
 imagination of her distinguished parents. It struck 
 
IV.] LADY BAHBERINA. G5 
 
 him even that they were fools not to have perceived 
 that they should make a much better thing of it by 
 leaving him perfectly free. This intervention of the 
 solicitor was a nasty little English tradition totally 
 at variance with the large spirit of American habits 
 to which he would not submit. It was not his way 
 to submit when he disapproved : why should he 
 change his way on this occasion, when the matter lay 
 so near him ? These reflections, and a hundred more, 
 had flowed freely through his mind for several days 
 before he called in Jermyn Street, arid they had 
 engendered a lively indignation and a really bitter 
 sense of wrong. As may be imagined, they had 
 infused a certain awkwardness into his relations with 
 the house of Canterville, and it may be said of these 
 relations that they were for the moment virtually 
 suspended. His first interview with Lady Barb, after 
 his conference with the old couple, as he called her 
 august elders, had been as tender as he could have 
 desired. Lady Canterville, at the end of three days, 
 had sent him an invitation five words on a card 
 asking him to dine with them to-morrow, quite en 
 famille. This had been the only formal intimation 
 that his engagement to Lady Barb was recognised ; 
 for even at the family banquet, which included half a 
 dozen outsiders, there had been no allusion on the part 
 either of his host or his hostess to the subject of their 
 conversation in Lord Canterville's den. The only 
 allusion was a wandering ray, once or twice, in Lady 
 Barberina's eyes. When, however, after dinner, she 
 strolled away with him into the music-room, which 
 was lighted and empty, to play for him something out 
 of Carmen, of which he had spoken at table, and when 
 the young couple were allowed to enjoy for upwards 
 
 F 
 
66 TALES OF THREE CITIES. [iv. 
 
 of an hour, unmolested, the comparative privacy of 
 this rich apartment, he felt that Lady Canterville 
 definitely counted upon him. She didn't believe in 
 any serious difficulties. Neither did he, then; and 
 that was why it was a nuisance there should be a vain 
 appearance of them. The arrangements, he supposed 
 Lady Canterville would have said, were pending, and 
 indeed they were ; for he had already given orders in 
 Bond Street for the setting of an extraordinary number 
 of diamonds. Lady Barb, at any rate, during that 
 hour he spent with her, had had nothing to say about 
 arrangements ; and it had been an hour of pure satis- 
 faction. She had seated herself at the piano and had 
 played perpetually, in a soft incoherent manner, while 
 he leaned over the instrument, very close to her, and 
 said everything that came into his head. She was 
 very bright and serene, and she looked at him as if 
 she liked him very much. 
 
 This was all he expected of her, for it did not 
 belong to the cast of her beauty to betray a vulgar 
 infatuation. That beauty was more delightful to him 
 than ever ; and there was a softness about her which 
 seemed to say to him that from this moment she was 
 quite his own. He felt more than ever the value of 
 such a possession ; it came over him more than ever 
 that it had taken a great social outlay to produce such 
 a mixture. Simple and girlish as she was, and not 
 particularly quick in the give and take of conversation, 
 she seemed to him to have a part of the history of 
 England in her blood; she was a rtsumt of generations 
 of privileged people, and of centuries of rich country- 
 life. Between these two, of course, there was no 
 allusion to the question which had been put into the 
 hands of Mr. Hilary, and the last thing that occurred 
 
iv.] LADY BABBEKINA. 67 
 
 to Jackson Lemon was that Lady Barb had views as 
 to his settling a fortune upon her before their marriage. 
 It may appear singular, but he had not asked himself 
 whether his money operated upon her in any degree 
 as a bribe ; and this was because, instinctively, he felt 
 that such a speculation was idle, the point was not 
 to be ascertained, and because he was willing to 
 assume that it was agreeable to her that she should 
 continue to live in luxury. It was eminently agree- 
 able to him that he might enable her to do so. He 
 was acquainted with the mingled character of human 
 motives, and he was glad that he was rich enough to 
 pretend to the hand of a young woman who, for the 
 best of reasons, would be very expensive. After that 
 happy hour in the music-room he had ridden with her 
 twice ; but he had not found her otherwise accessible. 
 She had let him know, the second time they rode, that 
 Lady Canterville had directed her to make, for the 
 moment, no further appointment with him ; and on 
 his presenting himself, more than once at the house, 
 he had been told that neither the mother nor the 
 daughter was at home ; it had been added that Lady 
 Barberina was staying at Koehampton. On giving him 
 that information in the Park, Lady Barb had looked 
 at him with a mute reproach there was always a 
 certain superior dumbness in her eyes as if he were 
 exposing her to an annoyance that she ought to be 
 spared; as if he were taking an eccentric line on a 
 question that all well-bred people treated in the con- 
 ventional way. His induction from this was not that 
 she wished to be secure about his money, but that, 
 like a dutiful English daughter, she received her 
 opinions (on points that were indifferent to her) ready- 
 made from a mamma whose fallibility had never been 
 
68 TALES OF THREE CITIES. [iv. 
 
 exposed. He knew by this that his solicitor had 
 answered Mr. Hilary's letter, and that Lady Canter- 
 ville's coolness was the fruit of this correspondence. 
 The effect of it was not in the least to make him 
 come round, as he phrased it ; he had not the smallest 
 intention of doing that. Lady Canterville had spoken 
 of the traditions of her family ; but he had no need to 
 go to his family for his own. They resided within 
 himself ; anything that he had definitely made up his 
 mind to, acquired in an hour a kind of legendary force. 
 Meanwhile, he was in the detestable position of not 
 knowing whether or no he were engaged. He wrote 
 to Lady Barb to inquire it being so strange that she 
 should not receive him ; and she answered in a very 
 pretty little letter, which had to his mind a. sort of 
 bygone quality, an old-fashioned freshness, as if it 
 might have been written in the last century by Clarissa 
 or Amelia : she answered that she did not in the least 
 understand the situation ; that, of course, she would 
 never give him up ; that her mother had said that 
 there were the best reasons for their not going too 
 fast ; that, thank God, she was yet young, and could 
 wait as long as he would ; but that she begged he 
 wouldn't write her anything about money-matters, as 
 she could never comprehend them. Jackson felt that 
 he was in no danger whatever of making this last mis- 
 take ; he only noted how Lady Barb thought it natural 
 that there should be a discussion ; and this made it 
 vivid to him afresh that he had got hold of a daughter 
 of the Crusaders. His ingenious mind could appreciate 
 this hereditary assumption perfectly, at the same time 
 that, to light his own footsteps, it remained entirely 
 modern. He believed or he thought he believed 
 that in the end he should marry Barberina Clement on 
 
iv.] LADY BARBERINA. 69 
 
 his own terms; but in the interval there was a sensible 
 indignity in being challenged and checked. One effect 
 of it, indeed, was to make him desire the girl more 
 keenly. When she was not before his eyes in the 
 flesh, she hovered before him as an image; and this 
 image had reasons of its own for being a radiant pic- 
 ture. There were moments, however, when he wearied 
 of looking at it ; it was so impalpable and thankless, 
 and then Jackson Lemon, for the first time in his life, 
 was melancholy. He felt alone in London, and very 
 much out of it, in spite of all the acquaintances he had 
 made, and the bills he had paid ; he felt the need of 
 a greater intimacy than any lie had formed (save, of 
 course, in the case of Lady Barb). He wanted to 
 vent his disgust, to relieve himself, from the American 
 point of view. He felt that in engaging in a contest 
 with the great house of Canterville he was, after all, 
 rather single. That singleness was, of course, in a 
 great measure an inspiration ; but it pinched him a 
 little at moments. Then he wished his mother had 
 been in London, for he used to talk of his affairs a 
 great deal with this delightful parent, who had a 
 soothing way of advising him in the sense he liked 
 best. He had even gone so far as to wish he had 
 never laid eyes on Lady Barb and had fallen in love 
 with some transatlantic maiden of a similar composi- 
 tion. He presently came back, of course, to the 
 knowledge that in the United States there was and 
 there could be nothing similar to Lady Barb ; for 
 was it not precisely as a product of the English climate 
 and the British constitution that he valued her ? He 
 had relieved himself, from his American point of view, 
 by speaking his mind to Lady Beauchemin, who con- 
 fessed that she was very much vexed with her parents. 
 
"70 TALES OF THREE CITIES. [iv. 
 
 She agreed with him that they had made a great mis- 
 take ; they ought to have left him free ; and she 
 expressed her confidence that that freedom would be 
 for her family, as it were, like the silence of the sage, 
 golden. He must excuse them; he must remember 
 that what was asked of him had been their custom for 
 centuries. She did not mention her authority as to 
 the origin of customs, but she assured him that she 
 would say three words to her father and mother which 
 would make it all right. Jackson answered that cus- 
 toms were all very well, but that intelligent people 
 recognised, when they saw it, the right occasion for 
 departing from them ; and with this he awaited the 
 result of Lady Beauchemin's remonstrance. It had 
 not as yet been perceptible, and it must be said that 
 this charming woman was herself much bothered. 
 When, on her venturing to say to her mother that she 
 thought a wrong line had been taken with regard to 
 her sister's prttendant, Lady Canterville had replied 
 that Mr. Lemon's unwillingness to settle anything was 
 in itself a proof of what they had feared, the unstable 
 nature of his fortune (for it was useless to talk this 
 gracious lady could be very decided there could be 
 no serious reason but that one): on meeting this argu- 
 ment, as I say, Jackson's protectress felt considerably 
 baffled. It was perhaps true, as her mother said, that 
 if they didn't insist upon proper guarantees Barberina 
 might be left in a few years with nothing but the stars 
 and stripes (this odd phrase was a quotation from Mr. 
 Lemon) to cover her. Lady Beauchemin tried to 
 reason it out with Lady Marmaduke ; but these were 
 complications unforeseen by Lady Marmaduke in her 
 project of an Anglo-American society. She was obliged 
 to confess that Mr. Lemon's fortune could not have the 
 
iv.] LADY BARBERINA. 71 
 
 solidity of long-established things ; it was a very new 
 fortune indeed. His father had made the greater part 
 of it all in a lump, a few years before his death, in the 
 extraordinary way in which people made money in 
 America; that, of course, was why the son had those 
 singular professional attributes. He had begun to 
 study to be a doctor very young, before his expecta- 
 tions were so great. Then he had found he was very 
 clever, and very fond of it; and he had kept on, 
 because, after all, in America, where there were no 
 country-gentlemen, a young man had to have some- 
 thing to do, don't you know ? And Lady Marmaduke, 
 like an enlightened woman, intimated that in such a 
 case she thought it in much better taste not to try to 
 sink anything. " Because, in America, don't you see," 
 she reasoned, " you can't sink it nothing will sink. 
 Everything is floating about in the newspapers." 
 And she tried to console her friend by remarking that 
 if Mr. Lemon's fortune was precarious, it was at all 
 events so big. That was just the trouble for Lady 
 Beauchemin ; it was so big, and yet they were going 
 to lose it. He was as obstinate as a mule ; she was 
 sure he would never come round. Lady Marmaduke 
 declared that he would come round ; she even offered 
 to bet a dozen pair of gants de Su&de on it ; and she 
 added that this consummation lay quite in the hands 
 of Barberina. Lady Beachemin promised herself to 
 converse with her sister ; for it was not for nothing 
 that she herself had felt the international contagion. 
 
 Jackson Lemon, to dissipate his chagrin, had re- 
 turned to the sessions of the medical congress, where, 
 inevitably, he had fallen into the hands of Sidney 
 Feeder, who enjoyed in this disinterested assembly 
 a high popularity. It was Doctor Feeder's earnest 
 
72 TALES OF THREE CITIES. [iv. 
 
 desire that his old friend should share it, which was 
 all the more easy as the medical congress was really, 
 as the young physician observed, a perpetual sym- 
 posium. Jackson Lemon entertained the whole body 
 entertained it profusely, and in a manner befitting 
 one of the patrons of science rather than its humbler 
 votaries ; but these dissipations only made him for- 
 get for a moment that his relations with the house 
 of Canterville were anomalous. His great difficulty 
 punctually came back to him, and Sidney Feeder saw 
 it stamped upon his brow. Jackson Lemon, with his 
 acute inclination to open himself, was on the point, 
 more than once, of taking the sympathetic Sidney 
 into his confidence. His friend gave him easy oppor- 
 tunity ; he asked him what it was he was thinking 
 of all the time, and whether the young marchioness 
 had concluded she couldn't swallow a doctor. These 
 forms of speech were displeasing to Jackson Lemon, 
 whose fastidiousness was nothing new ; but it was 
 for even deeper reasons that he said to himself that, 
 for such complicated cases as his, there was no 
 assistance in Sidney Feeder. To understand his situa- 
 tion one must know the world ; and the child of 
 Cincinnati didn't know the world at least the world, 
 with which his friend was now concerned. 
 
 " Is there a hitch in your marriage ? Just tell me 
 that," Sidney Feeder had said, taking everything for 
 granted, in a manner which was in itself a proof of 
 great innocence. It is true he had added that he 
 supposed he had no business to ask ; but he had been 
 anxious about it ever since hearing from Mr. and Mrs. 
 Freer that the British aristocracy was down on the 
 medical profession. " Do they want you to give it 
 up ? Is that what the hitch is about ? Don't desert 
 
iv.] LADY BAKBEMNA. 73 
 
 your colours, Jackson. The elimination of pain, the 
 mitigation of misery, constitute surely the noblest 
 profession in the world." 
 
 "My dear fellow, you don't know what you are 
 talking about," Jackson observed, for answer to this. 
 " I haven't told any one I was going to be married ; 
 still less have I told any one that any one objected 
 to my profession. I should like to see them do it. 
 I have got out of the swim to-day, but I don't regard 
 myself as the sort of person that people object to. 
 And I do expect to do something, yet." 
 
 " Come home, then, and do it. And excuse me if 
 I say that the facilities for getting married are much 
 greater over there." 
 
 " You don't seem to have found them very great." 
 
 " I have never had time. Wait till my next vaca- 
 tion, and you will see." 
 
 " The facilities over there are too great. Nothing 
 is good but what is difficult," said Jackson Lemon, in 
 a tone of artificial sententiousness that quite tormented 
 his interlocutor. 
 
 " Well, they have got their backs up, I can see that. 
 I'm glad you like it. Only if they despise your pro- 
 fession, what will they say to that of your friends ? 
 If they think you are queer, what would they think 
 of me ? " asked Sidney Feeder, the turn of whose 
 mind was not, as a general thing, in the least sarcas- 
 tic, but who was pushed to this sharpness by a con- 
 viction that (in spite of declarations which seemed 
 half an admission and half a denial) his friend was 
 suffering himself to be bothered for the sake of a 
 good which might be obtained elsewhere without 
 bother. It had come over him that the bother was 
 of an unworthy kind. 
 
74 TALES OF THREE CITIES. [iv. 
 
 " My dear fellow, all that is idiotic." That had 
 been Jackson Lemon's reply; but it expressed but a 
 portion of his thoughts. The rest was inexpressible, 
 or almost; being connected with a sentiment of rage 
 at its having struck even so genial a mind as Sidney 
 Feeder's that, in proposing to marry a daughter of the 
 highest civilisation, he was going out of his way 
 departing from his natural line. Was he then so 
 ignoble, so pledged to inferior things, that when he 
 saw a girl who (putting aside the fact that she had 
 not genius, which was rare, and which, though he 
 prized rarity, he didn't want) seemed to him the 
 most complete feminine nature he had known, he 
 was to think himself too different, too incongruous, 
 to mate with her ? He would mate with whom he 
 chose ; that was the upshot of Jackson Lemon's 
 reflections. Several days elapsed, during which every- 
 body even the pure-minded, like Sidney Feeder 
 seemed to him very abject. 
 
 I relate all this to show why it was that in going 
 to see Mrs. Freer he was prepared much less to be 
 angry with people who, like the Dexter Freers, a 
 month before, had given it out that he was engaged 
 to a peer's daughter, than to resent the insinuation 
 that there were obstacles to such a prospect. He sat 
 with Mrs. Freer alone for half an hour in the sab- 
 batical stillness of Jerinyn Street. Her husband had 
 gone for a walk in the Park ; he always walked in 
 the Park on Sunday. All the world might have been 
 there, and Jackson and Mrs. Freer in sole possession 
 of the district of St. James's. This perhaps had some- 
 thing to do with making him at last rather confiden- 
 tial; the influences were conciliatory, persuasive. 
 Mrs. Freer was extremely sympathetic; she treated 
 
iv.] LADY BARBERINA. 75 
 
 him like a person she had known from the age of ten ; 
 asked his leave to continue recumbent ; talked a great 
 deal about his mother ; and seemed almost for a while 
 to perform the kindly functions of that lady. It had 
 been wise of her from the first not to allude, even 
 indirectly, to his having neglected so long to call ; her 
 silence on this point was in the best taste. Jackson 
 Lemon had forgotten that it was a habit with her, 
 and indeed a high accomplishment, never to reproach 
 people with these omissions. You might have left 
 her alone for two years, her greeting was always the 
 same ; she was never either too delighted to see you 
 or not delighted enough. After a while, however, he 
 perceived that her silence had been to a certain ex- 
 tent a reference ; she appeared to take for granted that 
 he devoted all his hours to a certain young lady. It 
 came over him for a moment that his country people 
 took a great deal for granted ; but when Mrs. Freer, 
 rather abruptly, sitting up on her sofa, said to him, 
 half simply, half solemnly, "And now, my dear 
 Jackson, I want you to tell me something!" he 
 perceived that after all she didn't pretend to know 
 more about the impending matter than he himself 
 did. In the course of a quarter of an hour so 
 appreciatively she listened he had told her a good 
 deal about it. It was the first time he had said so 
 much to any one, and the process relieved him even 
 more than he would have supposed. It made certain 
 things clear to him, by bringing them to a point 
 above all, the fact that he had been wronged. He 
 made no allusion whatever to its being out of the 
 usual way that, as an American doctor, he should sue 
 for the hand of a marquis's daughter ; and this reserve 
 was not voluntary, it was quite unconscious. His 
 
76 TALES OF THKEE CITIES. [iv. 
 
 mind was too full of the offensive conduct of the Can- 
 tervilles, and the sordid side of their want of confi- 
 dence. He could not imagine that while he talked 
 to Mrs. Freer and it amazed him afterward that he 
 should have chattered so ; he could account for it 
 only by the state of his nerves she should be think- 
 ing only of the strangeness of the situation he sketched 
 for her. She thought Americans as good as other 
 people, but she didn't see where, in American life 
 the daughter of a marquis would, as she phrased it, 
 work in. To take a simple instance, they coursed 
 through Mrs. Freer's mind with extraordinary speed 
 would she not always expect to go in to dinner first ? 
 As a novelty, over there, they might like to see her 
 do it, at first; there might be even a pressure for 
 places for the spectacle. But with the increase of 
 every kind of sophistication that was taking place in 
 America, the humorous view to which she would owe 
 her safety might not continue to be taken ; and then 
 where would Lady Barberina be ? This was but a 
 small instance ; but Mrs. Freer's vivid imagination 
 much as she lived in Europe, she knew her native 
 land so well saw a host of others massing them- 
 selves behind it. The consequence of all of which 
 was that after listening to him in the most engaging 
 silence, she raised her clasped hands, pressed them 
 against her breast, lowered her voice to a tone of 
 entreaty, and, with her perpetual little smile, uttered 
 three words : " My dear Jackson, don't don't 
 don't." 
 
 "Don't what ?" he asked, staring. 
 
 " Don't neglect the chance you have of getting out 
 of it ; it would never do." 
 
 He knew what she meant by his chance of getting 
 
iv.] LADY BARBEKINA. 77 
 
 out of it ; in his many meditations he had, of course, 
 not overlooked that. The ground the old couple had 
 taken about settlements (and the fact that Lady Beau- 
 cliemin had not come back to him to tell him, as she 
 promised, that she had moved them, proved how firmly 
 they were rooted) would have offered an all-sufficient 
 pretext to a man who should have repented of his 
 advances. Jackson Lemon knew that ; but he knew 
 at the same time that he had not repented. The old 
 couple's want of imagination did not in the least alter 
 the fact that Barberina was, as he had told her father, 
 a beautiful type. Therefore he simply said to Mrs. 
 Freer that he didn't in the least wish to get out of it ; 
 he was as much in it as ever, and he intended to re- 
 main there. But what did she mean, he inquired in 
 a moment, by her statement that it would never do ? 
 Why wouldn't it do ? Mrs. Freer replied by another 
 inquiry Should he really like her to tell him ? It 
 wouldn't do, because Lady Barb would not be satisfied 
 with her place at dinner. She would not be content 
 in. a society of commoners with any but the 
 best ; and the best she could not expect (and it was 
 to be supposed that he did not expect her) always to 
 have. 
 
 " What do you mean by commoners ? " Jackson 
 Lemon demanded, looking very serious. 
 
 " I mean you, and me, and my poor husband, and 
 .Dr. Feeder," said Mrs. Freer. 
 
 " I don't see how there can be commoners where 
 there are not lords. It is the lord that makes the 
 commoner ; and vice versd." 
 
 " Won't a lady do as well ? Lady Barberina a 
 single English girl can make a million inferiors." 
 
 " She will be, before anything else, my wife ; and 
 
78 TALES OF THREE CITIES. [iv. 
 
 she will not talk about inferiors any more than I do. 
 I never do ; it's very vulgar." 
 
 "I don't know what she'll talk about, my dear 
 Jackson, but she will think ; and her thoughts won't 
 be pleasant I mean for others. Do you expect to 
 sink her to your own rank ?" 
 
 Jackson Lemon's bright little eyes were fixed more 
 brightly than ever upon his hostess. " I don't under- 
 stand you ; and I don't think you understand your- 
 self." This was not absolutely candid, for he did 
 understand Mrs. Freer to a certain extent ; it has 
 been related that, before he asked Lady Barb's hand 
 of her parents, there had been moments when he him- 
 self was not very sure that the flower of the British 
 aristocracy would flourish in American soil. But an 
 intimation from another person that it was beyond 
 his power to pass off his wife whether she were the 
 daughter of a peer or of a shoemaker set all his 
 blood on fire. It quenched on the instant his own 
 perception of difficulties of detail, and made him feel 
 only that he was dishonoured he, the heir of all the 
 ages by such insinuations. It was his belief 
 though he had never before had occasion to put it for- 
 ward that his position, one of the best in the world, 
 was one of those positions that make everything pos- 
 sible. He had had the best education the age could 
 offer, for if he had rather wasted his time at Harvard, 
 where he entered very young, he had, as he believed, 
 been tremendously serious at Heidelberg and at Vienna. 
 He had devoted himself to one of the noblest of 
 professions a profession recognised as such every- 
 where but in England and he had inherited a fortune 
 far beyond the expectation of his earlier years, the 
 years when he cultivated habits of work which alone 
 
IV.] LADY BARBEKINA. 79 
 
 or rather in combination with talents that he 
 neither exaggerated nor minimised would have con- 
 duced to distinction. He was one of the most fortu- 
 nate inhabitants of an immense, fresh, rich country, a 
 country whose future was admitted to be incalculable, 
 and he moved with perfect ease in a society in which 
 he was not overshadowed by others. It seemed to 
 him, therefore, beneath his dignity to wonder whether 
 he could afford, socially speaking, to marry according 
 to his taste. Jackson Lemon pretended to be strong ; 
 and what was the use of being strong if you were not 
 prepared to undertake things that timid people might 
 find difficult ? It was his plan to marry the woman 
 he liked, and not to be afraid of her afterward. The 
 effect of Mrs. Freer's doubt of his success was to 
 represent to him that his own character would not 
 cover his wife's ; she couldn't have made him feel 
 otherwise if she had told him that he was marrying 
 beneath him, and would have to ask for indulgence. 
 " I don't believe you know how much I think that 
 any woman who marries me will be doing very well," 
 he added, directly. 
 
 " I am very sure of that ; but it isn't so simple- 
 one's being an American," Mrs. Freer rejoined, with a 
 little philosophic sigh. 
 
 " It's whatever one chooses to make it." 
 
 " Well, you'll make it what no one has done yet, 
 if you take that young lady to America and make her 
 happy there." 
 
 "Do you think it's such a very dreadful place ? " 
 
 " No, indeed ; but she will." 
 
 Jackson Lemon got up from his chair, and took up 
 his hat and stick. He had actually turned a little 
 pale, with the force of his emotion ; it had made him 
 
80 TALES OF THREE CITIES. [iv. 
 
 really quiver that his marriage to Lady Barberina 
 should be looked at as too high a flight. He stood a 
 moment leaning against the mantelpiece, and very 
 much tempted to say to Mrs. Freer that she was a 
 vulgar -minded old woman. But he said something 
 that was really more to the point : " You forget that 
 she will have her consolations." 
 
 " Don't go away, or I shall think I have offended 
 you. You can't console a wounded marchioness." 
 
 " How will she be wounded ? People will be 
 charming to her." 
 
 "They will be charming to her charming to 
 her !" These words fell from the lips of Dexter 
 Freer, who had opened the door of the room and stood 
 with the knob in his hand, putting himself into relation 
 to his wife's talk with their visitor. This was accom- 
 plished in an instant. " Of course I know whom you 
 mean," he said, while he exchanged greetings with 
 Jackson Lemon. " My wife and I of course you 
 know we are great busybodies have talked of your 
 affair, and we differ about it completely : she sees only 
 the dangers, and I see the advantages." 
 
 " By the advantages he means the fun for us," Mrs. 
 Freer remarked, settling her sofa-cushions. 
 
 Jackson looked with a certain sharp blankness 
 from one of these disinterested judges to the other ; 
 and even yet they did not perceive how their mis- 
 directed familiarities wrought upon him. It was hardly 
 more agreeable to him to know that the husband 
 wished to see Lady Barb in America, than to know 
 that the wife had a dread of such a vision ; for there 
 was that in Dexter Freer's face which seemed to say 
 that the thing would take place somehow for the 
 benefit of the spectators. " I think you both see too 
 
iv.] LADY BARBEEINA. 81 
 
 much a great deal too much/' he answered, rather 
 coldly. 
 
 " My dear young man, at my age I can take certain 
 liberties/' said Dexter Freer. " Do it I beseech you 
 to do it ; it has never been done before." And then, 
 as if Jackson's glance had challenged this last assertion, 
 he went on : " Never, I assure you, this particular 
 thing. Young female members of the British aris- 
 tocracy have married coachmen and fishmongers, and 
 all that sort of thing ; but they have never married 
 you and me." 
 
 " They certainly haven't married you," said Mrs. 
 Freer. 
 
 " I am much obliged to you for your advice." It 
 may be thought that Jackson Lemon took himself 
 rather seriously; and indeed I am afraid that if he 
 had not done so there would have been no occasion 
 for my writing this little history. But it made him 
 almost sick to hear his engagement spoken of as a 
 curious and ambiguous phenomenon. He might have 
 his own ideas about it one always had about one's 
 engagement; but the ideas that appeared to have 
 peopled the imagination of his friends ended by 
 kindling a little hot spot in each of his cheeks. " I 
 would rather not talk any more about my little plans/' 
 he added to Dexter Freer. " I have been saying all 
 sorts of absurd things to Mrs. Freer." 
 
 " They have been most interesting," that lady de- 
 clared. " You have been very stupidly treated." 
 
 "May she tell me when you go?" her husband 
 asked of the young man. 
 
 " I am going now ; she may tell you whatever she 
 likes." 
 
 " I am afraid we have displeased you," said Mrs. 
 
 Cr 
 
82 TALES OF THREE CITIES. [iv. 
 
 Freer ; " I have said too much what I think. You 
 must excuse me, it's all for your mother." 
 
 " It's she whom I want Lady Barberina to see !" 
 Jackson Lemon exclaimed, with the inconsequence of 
 filial affection. 
 
 "Deary me !" murmured Mrs. Freer. 
 
 " We shall go back to America to see how you get 
 on/' her husband said ; " and if you succeed, it will be 
 a great precedent," 
 
 " Oh, I shall succeed ! " And with this he took his 
 departure. He walked away with the quick step of a 
 man labouring under a certain excitement ; walked up 
 to Piccadilly and down past Hyde Park Corner. It 
 relieved him to traverse these distances, for he was 
 thinking hard, under the influence of irritation ; and 
 locomotion helped him to think. Certain suggestions 
 that had been made him in the last half hour rankled 
 in his mind, all the more that they seemed to have 
 a kind of representative value, to be an echo of the 
 common voice. If his prospects wore that face to 
 Mrs. Freer, they would probably wear it to others ; 
 and he felt a sudden need of showing such others that 
 they took a pitiful measure of his position. Jackson 
 Lemon walked and walked till he found himself on 
 the highway of Hammersmith. I have represented 
 him as a young man of much strength of purpose, and 
 I may appear to undermine this plea when I relate 
 that he wrote that evening to his solicitor that Mr. 
 Hilary was to be informed that he would agree to any 
 proposals for settlements that Mr. Hilary should make. 
 Jackson's strength of purpose was shown in his 
 deciding to marry Lady Barberina on any terms. It 
 seemed to him, under the influence of his desire to 
 prove that he was not afraid so odious was the 
 
v.] LADY BARBEKINA. 83 
 
 imputation that terms of any kind were very super- 
 ficial tilings. What was fundamental, and of the 
 essence of the matter, would be to marry Lady Barb 
 and carry everything out. 
 
 V. 
 
 " Ox Sundays, now, you might be at home," Jackson 
 Lemon said to his wife in the following month of 
 March, more than six months after his marriage. 
 
 " Are the people any nicer on Sundays than they 
 are on other days ? " Lady Barberina replied, from 
 the depths of her chair, without looking up from a 
 stiff little book. 
 
 He hesitated a single instant before answering : 
 " I don't know whether they are, but I think you 
 might be." 
 
 " I am as nice as I know how to be. You must 
 take me as I am. You knew when you married me 
 that I was not an American." 
 
 Jackson Lemon stood before the fire, towards 
 which his wife's face was turned and her feet were 
 extended ; stood there some time, with his hands 
 behind him. and his eyes dropped a little obliquely 
 upon the bent head and richly-draped figure of Lady 
 Barberina. It may be said without delay that he 
 was irritated, and it may be added that he had a 
 double cause. He felt himself to be on the verge of 
 the first crisis that had occurred between himself 
 and his wife the reader will perceive that it had 
 occurred rather promptly and he was annoyed at 
 his annoyance. A glimpse of his state of mind be- 
 fore his marriage has been given to the reader, who 
 
84 TALES OF THREE CITIES. [v. 
 
 will remember that at that period Jackson Lemon 
 somehow regarded himself as lifted above possibilities 
 of irritation. When one was strong, one was not irri- 
 table; and a union with a kind of goddess would of 
 course be an element of strength. Lady Barb was a 
 goddess still, and Jackson Lemon admired his wife as 
 much as the day he led her to the altar; but I am 
 not sure that he felt so strong. 
 
 " How do you know what people are ? " he said in 
 a moment. " You have seen so few ; you are perpet- 
 ually denying yourself. If you should leave New 
 York to-morrow you would know wonderfully little 
 about it." 
 
 " It's all the same," said Lady Barb ; " the people 
 are all exactly alike." 
 
 " How can you tell ? You never see them." 
 
 "Didn't I go out every night for the first two 
 months we were here ? " 
 
 " It was only to about a dozen houses always 
 the same ; people, moreover, you had already met in 
 London. You have got no general impressions." 
 
 " That's just what I have got ; I had them before 
 I came. Every one is just the same ; they have just 
 the same names just the same manners." 
 
 Again, for an instant, Jackson Lemon hesitated ; 
 then he said, in that apparently artless tone of which 
 mention has already been made, and which he some- 
 times used in London during his wooing : " Don't you 
 like it over here ? " 
 
 Lady Barb raised her eyes from her book. " Did 
 you expect me to like it ? " 
 
 " I hoped you would, of course. I think I told 
 you so." 
 
 " I don't remember. You said very little about it ; 
 
V.] LADY BARBEEINA. 85 
 
 you seemed to make a kind of mystery. I knew, of 
 course, you expected me to live here, but I didn't 
 know you expected me to like it." 
 
 " You thought I asked of you the sacrifice, as it 
 were." 
 
 " I am sure I don't know/' said Lady Barb. She 
 got up from her chair and tossed the volume she had 
 been reading into the empty seat. " I recommend 
 you to read that book," she added. 
 
 " Is it interesting ? " 
 
 " It's an American novel." 
 
 " I never read novels." 
 
 "You had better look at that one; it will show 
 you the kind of people you want me to know." 
 
 " I have no doubt it's very vulgar," said Jackson 
 Lemon ; " I don't see why you read it." 
 
 " What else can I do ? I can't always be riding in 
 the Park ; I hate the Park," Lady Barb remarked. 
 
 " It's quite as good as your own," said her hus- 
 band. 
 
 She glanced at him with a certain quickness, her 
 eyebrows slightly lifted. " Do you mean the park at 
 Pasterns?" 
 
 " No ; I mean the park in London." 
 
 "I don't care about London. One was only in 
 London a few weeks." 
 
 " I suppose you miss the country," said Jackson 
 Lemon. It was his idea of life that he should not 
 be afraid of anything, not be afraid, in any situation, 
 of knowing the worst that was to be known about 
 it ; and the demon of a courage with which discretion 
 was not properly commingled prompted him to take 
 soundings which were perhaps not absolutely neces- 
 sary for safety, and yet which revealed unmistakable 
 
86 TALES OF THREE CITIES. [v. 
 
 rocks. It was useless to know about rocks if lie 
 couldn't avoid them ; the only thing was to trust to 
 the wind. 
 
 " I don't know what I miss. I think I miss 
 everything ! " This was his wife's answer to his too 
 curious inquiry. It was not peevish, for that is not 
 the tone of a goddess ; but it expressed a good deal 
 a good deal more than Lady Barb, who was rarely 
 eloquent, had expressed before. Nevertheless, though 
 his question had been precipitate, Jackson Lemon 
 said to himself that he might take his time to think 
 over what his wife's little speech contained ; he could 
 not help seeing that the future would give him abun- 
 dant opportunity for that. He was in no hurry to 
 ask himself whether poor Mrs. Freer, in Jermyn 
 Street, might not, after all, have been right in saying 
 that, in regard to marrying the product of an English 
 caste, it was not so simple to be an American doctor 
 might avail little even, in such a case, to be the 
 heir of all the ages. The transition was complicated, 
 but in his bright mind it was rapid, from the brush 
 of a momentary contact with such ideas to certain 
 considerations which led him to say, after an instant, 
 to his wife, " Should you like to go down into Con- 
 necticut ? " 
 
 " Into Connecticut ? " 
 
 " That's one of our States ; it's about as large as 
 Ireland. I'll take you there if you like." 
 
 " What does one do there ? " 
 
 "We can try and get some hunting." 
 
 " You and I alone ? " 
 
 " Perhaps we can get a party to join us." 
 
 " The people in the State ? " 
 
 " Yes ; we might propose it to them." 
 
V.] LADY BARBERINA. 87 
 
 " The tradespeople in the towns ? " 
 
 " Very true ; they will have to mind their shops," 
 said Jackson Lemon. " But we might hunt alone." 
 
 " Are there any foxes ? " 
 
 " No ; but there are a few old cows." 
 
 Lady Barb had already perceived that her husband 
 took it into his head once in a while to laugh at her, 
 and she was aware that the present occasion was 
 neither worse nor better than some others. She didn't 
 mind it particularly now, though in England it would 
 have disgusted her ; she had the consciousness of vir- 
 tue an immense comfort and nattered herself that 
 she had learned the lesson of an altered standard of 
 fitness ; there were, moreover, so many more disagree- 
 able things in America than being laughed at by 
 one's husband. But she pretended to mind it, because 
 it made him stop, and above all it stopped discussion, 
 which with Jackson was so often jocular, and none 
 the less tiresome for that. " I only want to be left 
 alone," she said, in answer though, indeed, it had 
 not the manner of an answer to his speech about 
 the cows. With this she wandered away to one of 
 the windows which looked out on the Fifth Avenue. 
 She was very fond of these windows, and she had 
 taken a great fancy to the Fifth Avenue, which, in 
 the high-pitched winter weather, when everything 
 sparkled, was a spectacle full of novelty. It will be 
 seen that she was not wholly unjust to her adoptive 
 country : she found it delightful to look out of the 
 window. This was a pleasure she had enjoyed in 
 London only in the most furtive manner ; it was not 
 the kind of thing that girls did in England. Besides, 
 in London, in Hill Street, there was nothing particular 
 to see ; but in the Fifth Avenue everything and 
 
88 TALES OF THREE CITIES. [v, 
 
 every one went by, and observation was made con- 
 sistent with dignity by the masses of brocade and lace 
 in which the windows were draped, which, somehow, 
 would not have been tidy in England, and which 
 made an ambush without concealing the brilliant day. 
 Hundreds of women the curious women of New 
 York, who were unlike any that Lady Barb had 
 hitherto seen passed the house every hour, and her 
 ladyship was infinitely entertained and mystified by 
 the sight of their clothes. She spent a good deal 
 more time than she was aware of in this amusement ; 
 and if she had been addicted to returning upon her- 
 self, or asking herself for an account of her conduct 
 an inquiry which she did not, indeed, completely 
 neglect, but treated very cursorily it would have 
 made her smile sadly to think what she appeared 
 mainly to have come to America for, conscious though 
 she was that her tastes were very simple, and that so 
 long as she didn't hunt, it didn't much matter what 
 she did. 
 
 Her husband turned about to the fire, giving a 
 push with his foot to a log that had fallen out of its 
 place. Then he said and the connection with the 
 words she had just uttered was apparent enough 
 " You really must be at home on Sundays, you know. 
 I used to like that so much in London. All the best 
 women here do it. You had better begin to-day. I 
 am going to see iny mother ; if I meet any one I will 
 tell them to come." 
 
 " Tell them not to talk so much," said Lady Barb, 
 among her lace curtains. 
 
 " Ah, my dear," her husband replied, " it isn't 
 every one that has your concision !" And he went 
 and stood behind her in the window, putting his arm 
 
v.] LADY BAEBERINA. 89 
 
 round her waist. It was as much of a satisfaction to 
 him as it had been six months before, at the time the 
 solicitors were settling the matter, that this flower of 
 an ancient stem should be worn upon his own breast ; 
 he still thought its fragrance a thing quite apart, and 
 it was as clear as day to him that his wife was the 
 handsomest woman in New York. He had begun, 
 after their arrival, by telling her this very often ; but 
 the assurance brought no colour to her cheek, no light 
 to her eyes ; to be the handsomest woman in ISTe\v 
 York evidently did not seem to her a position in life. 
 Moreover, the reader may be informed that, oddly 
 enough, Lady Barb did not particularly believe this 
 assertion. There were some very pretty women in 
 New York, and without in the least wishing to be like 
 them she had seen no woman in America whom she 
 desired to resemble she envied some of their elements. 
 It is probable that her own finest points were those of 
 which she was most unconscious. But her husband 
 was aware of all of them; nothing could exceed the 
 minuteness of his appreciation of his wife. It was a 
 sign of this that after he had stood behind her a 
 moment he kissed her very tenderly. " Have you any 
 message for my mother ?" he asked. 
 
 " Please give her my love. And you might take 
 her that book." 
 
 "What book?" 
 
 " That nasty one I have been reading." 
 
 " Oh, bother your books," said Jackson Lemon, 
 with a certain irritation, as he went out of the room. 
 
 There had been a good many things in her life in 
 New York that cost Lady Barb an effort ; but sending 
 her love to her mother-in-law was not one of these. 
 She liked Mrs. Lemon better than any one she had 
 
90 TALES OF THREE CITIES. [v. 
 
 seen in America ; she was the only person who seemed 
 to Lady Barb really simple, as she understood that 
 quality. Many people had struck her as homely and 
 rustic, and many others as pretentious and vulgar ; but 
 in Jackson's mother she had found the golden mean 
 of a simplicity which, as she would have said, was 
 really nice. Her sister, Lady Agatha, was even fonder 
 of Mrs. Lemon ; but then Lady Agatha had taken the 
 most extraordinary fancy to every one and everything, 
 and talked as if America were the most delightful 
 country in the world. She was having a lovely time 
 (she already spoke the most beautiful American), and 
 had been, during the winter that was just drawing to 
 a close, the most prominent girl in New York. She 
 had gone out at first with her sister; but for some 
 weeks past Lady Barb had let so many occasions pass, 
 that Agatha threw herself into the arms of Mrs. Lemon, 
 who found her extraordinarily quaint and amusing 
 and was delighted to take her into society. Mrs. 
 Lemon, as an old woman, had given up such vanities ; 
 but she only wanted a motive, and in her good nature 
 she ordered a dozen new caps and sat smiling against 
 the wall while her little English maid, on polished 
 floors, to the sound of music, cultivated the American 
 step as well as the American tone. There was no 
 trouble, in New York, about going out, and the winter 
 was not half over before the little English maid found 
 herself an accomplished diner, rolling about, without 
 any chaperon at all, to banquets where she could count 
 upon a bouquet at her plate. She had had a great 
 deal of correspondence with her mother on this point, 
 and Lady Canterville at last withdrew her protest, 
 which in the meantime had been perfectly useless. It 
 was ultimately Lady Canterville's feeling that if she 
 
v.] LADY BARBERINA. 91 
 
 had married the handsomest of her daughters to an 
 American doctor, she might let another become a pro- 
 fessional raconteuse (Agatha had written to her that 
 she was expected to talk so much), strange as such a 
 destiny seemed for a girl of nineteen. Mrs. Lemon 
 was even a much simpler woman than Lady Barberina 
 thought her; for she had not noticed that Lady 
 Agatha danced much oftener with Herman Longstraw 
 than with any one else. Jackson Lemon, though he 
 went little to balls, had discovered this truth, and he 
 looked slightly preoccupied when, after he had sat five 
 minutes with his mother on the Sunday afternoon 
 through which I have invited the reader to trace so 
 much more than (I am afraid) is easily apparent of the 
 progress of this simple story, he learned that his sister- 
 in-law was entertaining Mr. Longstraw in the library. 
 He had called half an hour before, and she had taken 
 him into the other room to show him the seal of the 
 Cantervilles, which she had fastened to one of her 
 numerous trinkets (she was adorned with a hundred 
 bangles and chains), and the proper exhibition of which 
 required a taper and a stick of wax. Apparently he 
 was examining it very carefully, for they had been 
 absent a good while. Mrs. Lemon's simplicity was 
 further shown by the fact that she had not measured 
 their absence ; it was only when Jackson questioned 
 her that she remembered. 
 
 Herman Longstraw was a young Calif ornian who 
 had turned up in New York the winter before, and 
 who travelled on his moustache, as they were under- 
 stood to say in his native State. This moustache, and 
 some of the accompanying features, were very orna- 
 mental ; several ladies in New York had been known 
 to declare that they were as beautiful as a dream. 
 
92 TALES OF THREE CITIES. [v. 
 
 Taken in connection with his tall stature, his familiar 
 good-nature, and his remarkable Western vocabulary, 
 they constituted his only social capital ; for of the two 
 great divisions, the rich Californians and the poor 
 Californians, it was well known to which he belonged. 
 Jackson Lemon looked at him as a slightly mitigated 
 cowboy, and was somewhat vexed at his dear mother, 
 though he was aware that she could scarcely figure to 
 herself what an effect such an accent as that would 
 produce in the halls of Canterville. He had no desire 
 whatever to play a trick on the house to which he was 
 allied, and knew perfectly that Lady Agatha had not 
 been sent to America to become entangled with a 
 Californian of the wrong denomination. He had been 
 perfectly willing to bring her; he thought, a little 
 vindictively, that this would operate as a hint to her 
 parents as to what he might have been inclined to do 
 if they had not sent Mr. Hilary after him. Herman 
 Lougstraw, according to the legend, had been a 
 trapper, a squatter, a miner, a pioneer had been 
 everything that one could be in the romantic parts of 
 America, and had accumulated masses of experience 
 before the age of thirty. He had shot bears in the 
 Eockies and buffaloes on the plains ; and it was even 
 believed that he had brought down animals of a still 
 more dangerous kind, among the haunts of men. 
 There had been a story that he owned a cattle-ranch 
 in Arizona ; but a later and apparently more authentic 
 version of it, though it represented him as looking after 
 the cattle, did not depict him as their proprietor. 
 Many of the stories told about him were false ; but 
 there is no doubt that his moustache, his good-nature 
 and his accent were genuine. He danced very badly ; 
 but Lady Agatha had frankly told several persons that 
 
V.] LADY BARBERINA. 93 
 
 that was nothing new to her; and she liked (this, 
 however, she did not tell) Mr. Herman Longstraw. 
 What she enjoyed in America was the revelation of 
 freedom ; and there was no such proof of freedom as 
 conversation with a gentleman who dressed in skins 
 when he was not in New York, and who, in his usual 
 pursuits, carried his life (as well as that of other 
 people) in his hand. A gentleman whom she had sat 
 next to at a dinner in the early part of her stay in 
 New York, remarked to her that the United States 
 were the paradise of women and mechanics ; and this 
 had seemed to her at the time very abstract, for she 
 was not conscious, as yet, of belonging to either class. 
 In England she had been only a girl ; and the princi- 
 pal idea connected with that was simply that, for one's 
 misfortune, one was not a boy. But presently she 
 perceived that New York was a paradise; and this 
 helped her to know that she must be one of the people 
 mentioned in the axiom of her neighbour people who 
 could do whatever they wanted, had a voice in every- 
 thing, and made their taste and their ideas felt. She 
 saw that it was great fan to be a woman in America, 
 and that this was the best way to enjoy the New York 
 winter the wonderful, brilliant New York winter, the 
 queer, long-shaped, glittering city, the heterogeneous 
 hours, among which you couldn't tell the morning from 
 the afternoon or the night from either of them, the 
 perpetual liberties and walks, the rushings-out and the 
 droppings-in, the intimacies, the endearments, the 
 comicalities, the sleigh-bells, the cutters, the sunsets on 
 the snow, the ice-parties in the frosty clearness, the 
 bright, hot, velvety houses, the bouquets, the bonbons, 
 the little cakes, the big cakes, the irrepressible inspira- 
 tions of shopping, the innumerable luncheons and 
 
94 TALES OF THKEE CITIES. [v. 
 
 dinners that were offered to youth and innocence, the 
 quantities of chatter of quantities of girls, the perpetual 
 motion of the German, the suppers at restaurants after 
 the play, the way in which life was pervaded by 
 Delmonico and Delmonico by the sense that though 
 one's hunting was lost and this so different, it was 
 almost as good and in all, through all, a kind of 
 suffusion of bright, loud, friendly sound, which was 
 very local, but very human. 
 
 Lady Agatha at present was staying, for a little 
 change, with Mrs. Lemon, and such adventures as that 
 were part of the pleasure of her American season. 
 The house was too close; but physically the girl 
 could bear anything, and it was all she had to complain 
 of ; for Mrs. Lemon, as we know, thought her a bonnie 
 little damsel, and had none of those old-world scruples 
 in regard to spoiling young people to which Lady 
 Agatha now perceived that she herself, in the past, 
 had been unduly sacrificed. In her own way it was 
 not at all her sister's way she liked to be of import- 
 ance ; and this was assuredly the case when she saw 
 that Mrs. Lemon had apparently nothing in the world 
 to do (after spending a part of the morning with her 
 servants) but invent little distractions (many of them 
 of the edible sort) for her guest. She appeared to 
 have certain friends, but she had no society to speak 
 of, and the people who came into her house came 
 principally to see Lady Agatha. This, as we have 
 seen, was strikingly the case with Herman Longstraw. 
 The whole situation gave Lady Agatha a great feeling 
 of success success of a new and unexpected kind. 
 Of course, in England, she had been born successful, in 
 a manner, in coming into the world in one of the most 
 beautiful rooms at Pasterns ; but her present triumph 
 
v.] LADY BARBERINA. 95 
 
 was achieved more by her own effort (not that she had 
 tried very hard) and by her merit. It was not so 
 much what she said (for she could never say half as 
 much as the girls in New York), as the spirit of enjoy- 
 ment that played in her fresh young face, with its 
 pointless curves, and shone in her gray English eyes. 
 She enjoyed everything, even the street-cars, of which 
 she made liberal use ; and more than everything she 
 enjoyed Mr. Longstraw and his talk about buffaloes 
 and bears. Mrs. Lemon promised to be very careful, 
 as soon as her son had begun to warn her; and this 
 time she had a certain understanding of what she 
 promised. She thought people ought to make the 
 matches they liked ; she had given proof of this in 
 her late behaviour to Jackson, whose own union was, 
 in her opinion, marked with all the arbitrariness of 
 pure love. Nevertheless, she could see that Herman 
 Longstraw would probably be thought rough in Eng- 
 land ; and it was not simply that he was so inferior to 
 Jackson, for, after all, certain things were not to be 
 expected. Jackson Lemon was not oppressed with his 
 mother-in-law, having taken his precautions against 
 such a danger ; but he was aware that he should give 
 Lady Canterville a permanent advantage over him if, 
 while she was in America, her daughter Agatha should 
 attach herself to a mere moustache. 
 
 It was not always, as I have hinted, that Mrs. Lemon 
 entered completely into the views of her son, though 
 in form she never failed to subscribe to them devoutly. 
 She had never yet, for instance, apprehended his 
 reason for marrying Lady Barberina Clement. This 
 was a great secret, and Mrs. Lemon was determined 
 that no one should ever know it. For herself, she 
 was sure that, to the end of time, she 'should not dis- 
 
96 TALES OF THREE CITIES. [v. 
 
 cover Jackson's reason. She could never ask about it, 
 for that of course would betray her. From the first 
 she had told him she was delighted ; there being no 
 need of asking for explanations then, as the young 
 lady herself, when she should come to know her, 
 would explain. But the young lady had not yet ex- 
 plained ; and after this, evidently, she never would. 
 She was very tall, very handsome, she answered 
 exactly to Mrs. Lemon's prefigurement of the daughter 
 of a lord, and she wore her clothes, which were peculiar, 
 but, to her, remarkably becoming, very well. But she 
 did' not elucidate; we know ourselves that there was 
 very little that was explanatory about Lady Barb. So 
 Mrs. Lemon continued to wonder, to ask herself, "Why 
 that one, more than so many others, who would have 
 been more natural ?" The choice appeared to her, as 
 I have said, very arbitrary. She found Lady Barb 
 very different from other girls she had known, and 
 this led her almost immediately to feel sorry for her 
 daughter-in-law. She said to herself that Barb was to 
 be pitied if she found her husband's people as peculiar as 
 his mother found her; for the result of that would be 
 to make her very lonesome. Lady Agatha was differ- 
 ent, because she seemed to keep nothing back; you 
 saw all there was of her, and she was evidently not 
 home-sick. Mrs. Lemon could see that Barberina was 
 ravaged by this last passion and was too proud to 
 show it. She even had a glimpse of the ultimate 
 truth ; namely, that Jackson's wife had not the comfort 
 of crying, because that would have amounted to a 
 confession that she had been idiotic enough to believe 
 in advance that, in an American town, in the society 
 of doctors, she should escape such pangs. Mrs. Lemon 
 treated her with the greatest gentleness all the gentle- 
 
v.] LADY BARBERINA. 97 
 
 ness that was due to a young woman who was in 
 the unfortunate position of having been married one 
 couldn't tell why. The world, to Mrs. Lemon's view, 
 contained two great departments that of persons, and 
 that of things ; and she believed that you must take 
 an interest either in one or the other. The incompre- 
 hensible thing in Lady Barb was that she cared for 
 neither side of the show. Her house apparently 
 inspired her with no curiosity and no enthusiasm, 
 though it had been thought magnificent enough to be 
 described in successive columns of the American news- 
 papers ; and she never spoke of her furniture or her 
 domestics, though she had a prodigious supply of such 
 possessions. She was the same with regard to her 
 acquaintance, which was immense, inasmuch as every 
 one in the place had called on her. Mrs. Lemon was 
 the least critical woman in the world; but it had 
 sometimes exasperated her just a little that her 
 daughter-in-law should receive every one in New York 
 in exactly the same way. There were differences, Mrs. 
 Lemon knew, and some of them were of the highest 
 importance ; but poor Lady Barb appeared never to 
 suspect them. She accepted every one and everything, 
 and asked no questions. She had no curiosity about 
 her fellow-citizens, and as she never assumed it for 
 a moment, she gave Mrs. Lemon no opportunity to 
 enlighten her. Lady Barb was a person with whom 
 you could do nothing unless she gave you an opening ; 
 and nothing would have been more difficult than to 
 enlighten her against her will. Of course she picked 
 up a little knowledge ; but she confounded and trans- 
 posed American attributes in the most extraordinary 
 way. She had a way of calling every one Doctor ; 
 and Mrs. Lemon could scarcely convince her that this 
 
 H 
 
98 TALES OF THREE CITIES. [v. 
 
 distinction was too precious to be so freely bestowed. 
 She had once said to her mother-in-law that in New 
 York there was nothing to know people by, their names 
 were so very monotonous ; and Mrs. Lemon had 
 entered into this enough to see that there was some- 
 thing that stood out a good deal in Barberina's own 
 prefix. It is probable that during her short stay in 
 New York complete justice was not done Lady Barb ; 
 she never got credit, for instance, for repressing her 
 annoyance at the aridity of the social nomenclature, 
 which seemed to her hideous. That little speech to 
 her mother was the most reckless sign she gave of it ; 
 and there were few things that contributed more to the 
 good conscience she habitually enjoyed, than her self- 
 control on this particular point. 
 
 Jackson Lemon was making some researches, just 
 now, which took up a great deal of his time ; and, for 
 the rest, he passed his hours abundantly with his wife. 
 For the last three months, therefore, he had seen his 
 mother scarcely more than once a week. In spite of re- 
 searches, in spite of medical societies, where Jackson, to 
 her knowledge, read papers, Lady Barb had more of her 
 husband's company than she had counted upon at the 
 time she married. She had never known a married 
 pair to be so much together as she and Jackson ; he 
 appeared to expect her to sit with him in the library in 
 the morning. He had none of the occupations of 
 gentlemen and noblemen in England, for the element of 
 politics appeared to be as absent as the hunting. There 
 were politics in Washington, she had been told, and even 
 at Albany, and Jackson had proposed to introduce her to 
 these cities; but the proposal, made to her once at dinner 
 before several people, had excited such cries of horror 
 that it fell dead on the spot. " We don't want you 
 
v.] LADY BARBERINA. 99 
 
 to see anything of that kind," one of the ladies had 
 said, and Jackson had appeared to be discouraged 
 that is if, in regard to Jackson, one could really tell. 
 
 " Pray, what is it you want me to see ? " Lady 
 Barb had asked on this occasion. 
 
 " Well, New York ; and Boston, if you want to 
 very much but not otherwise ; and Niagara ; and, 
 more than anything, Newport." 
 
 Lady Barb was tired of their eternal Newport ; she 
 had heard of it a thousand times, and felt already as 
 if she had lived there half her life; she was sure, 
 moreover, that she should hate it. This is perhaps 
 as near as she came to having a lively conviction on 
 any American subject. She asked herself whether 
 she was then to spend her life in the Fifth Avenue, 
 with alternations of a city of villas (she detested 
 villas), and wondered whether that was all the great 
 American country had to offer her. There were times 
 when she thought that she should like the backwoods, 
 and that the Far West might be a resource ; for she 
 had analysed her feelings just deep enough to discover 
 that when she had hesitating a good deal turned 
 over the question of marrying Jackson Lemon, it was 
 not in the least of American barbarism that she was 
 afraid ; her dread was of American civilisation. She 
 believed the little lady I have just quoted was a 
 goose ; but that did not make New York any more 
 interesting. It would be reckless to say that she 
 suffered from an overdose of Jackson's company, 
 because she had a view of the fact that he was much 
 her most important social resource. She could talk to 
 him about England ; about her own England, and he 
 understood more or less what she wished to say, when 
 she wished to say anything, which was not frequent. 
 
100 TALES OF THKEE CITIES. [v. 
 
 There were plenty of other people who talked about 
 England; but with them the range of allusion was 
 always the hotels, of which she knew nothing, and the 
 shops, and the opera, and the photographs : they 
 had a mania for photographs. There were other 
 people who were always wanting her to tell them 
 about Pasterns, and the manner of life there, and 
 the parties ; but if there was one thing. Lady Barb 
 disliked more than another, it was describing Pas- 
 terns. She had always lived with people who 
 knew, of themselves, what such a place would be, 
 without demanding these pictorial efforts, proper only, 
 as she vaguely felt, to persons belonging to the classes 
 whose trade was the arts of expression. Lady Barb, 
 of course, had never gone into it ; but she knew that 
 in her own class the business was not to express, but 
 to enjoy ; not to represent, but to be represented 
 though, indeed, this latter liability might convey 
 offence ; for it may be noted that even for an 
 aristocrat Jackson Lemon's wife was aristocratic. 
 
 Lady Agatha and her visitor came back from the 
 library in course of time, and Jackson Lemon felt it 
 his duty to be rather cold to Herman Longstraw. It 
 was not clear to him what sort of a husband his sister- 
 in-law would do well to look for in America if 
 there were to be any question of husbands ; but as 
 to this he was not bound to be definite, provided he 
 should rule out Mr. Longstraw. This gentleman, 
 however, was not given to perceive shades of man- 
 ner; he had little observation, but very great con- 
 fidence. 
 
 " I think you had better come home with me," 
 Jackson said to Lady Agatha ; " I guess you have 
 stayed here long enough." 
 
v.] LADY BARBEKINA. 101 
 
 " Don't let him say that, Mrs. Lemon ! " the girl 
 cried. " 1 like being with you so very much." 
 
 "I try to make it pleasant," said Mrs. Lemon. 
 " I should really miss you now ; but perhaps it's 
 your mother's wish." If it was a question of defend- 
 ing her guest from ineligible suitors, Mrs. Lemon felt, 
 of course, that her son was more competent than she ; 
 though she had a lurking kindness for Herman Long- 
 straw, and a vague idea that he was a gallant, genial 
 specimen of young America. 
 
 " Oh, mamma wouldn't see any difference ! " Lady 
 Agatha exclaimed, looking at Jackson with pleading 
 blue eyes. " Mamma wants me to see every one ; 
 you know she does. That's what she sent me to 
 America for; she knew it was not like England. 
 She wouldn't like it if I didn't sometimes stay with 
 people ; she always wanted us to stay at other houses. 
 And she knows all about you, Mrs. Lemon, and she 
 likes you immensely. She sent you a message the 
 other day, and I am afraid I forgot to give it you 
 to thank you for being so kind to me and taking such 
 a lot of trouble. Eeally she did, but I forgot it. 
 If she wants me to see as much as possible of America, 
 it's much better I should be here than always with 
 Barb it's much less like one's own country. I 
 mean it's much nicer for a girl," said Lady Agatha, 
 affectionately, to Mrs. Lemon, who began also to 
 look at Jackson with a kind of tender argumenta- 
 tiveness. 
 
 " If you want the genuine thing, you ought to come 
 out on the plains," Mr. Longstraw interposed, with 
 smiling sincerity. " I guess that was your mother's 
 idea. Why don't you all come out ? " He had been 
 looking intently at Lady Agatha while the remarks I 
 
102 TALES OF THREE CITIES. [v. 
 
 have just repeated succeeded each other on her lips 
 looking at her with a kind of fascinated approbation, 
 for all the world as if he had been a slightly slow- 
 witted English gentleman and the girl had been a 
 flower of the West a flower that knew how to talk. 
 He made no secret of the fact that Lady Agatha's 
 voice was music to him, his ear being much more 
 susceptible than his own inflections would have indi- 
 cated. To Lady Agatha those inflections were not 
 displeasing, partly because, like Mr. Herman himself, 
 in general, she had not a perception of shades ; and 
 partly because it never occurred to her to compare 
 them with any other tones. He seemed to her to 
 speak a foreign language altogether a romantic 
 dialect, through which the most comical meanings 
 gleamed here and there. 
 
 "I should like it above all things," she said, in 
 answer to his last observation. 
 
 "The scenery's superior to anything round here," 
 Mr. Longstraw went on. 
 
 Mrs. Lemon, as we know, was the softest of women ; 
 but, as an old New Yorker, she had no patience with 
 some of the new fashions. Chief among these was 
 the perpetual reference, which had become common 
 only within a few years, to the outlying parts of the 
 country, the States and Territories of which children, 
 in her time, used to learn the names, in their order, at 
 school, but which no one ever thought of going to or 
 talking about. Such places, in Mrs. Lemon's opinion, 
 belonged to the geography-books, or at most to the 
 literature of newspapers, but not to society nor to 
 conversation ; and the change which, so far as it lay 
 in people's talk, she thought at bottom a mere affecta- 
 tion threatened to make her native land appear 
 
v.] LADY BARBERINA. 103 
 
 vulgar and vague. For this amiable daughter of 
 Manhattan, the normal existence of man, and, still 
 more, of woman, had been " located," as she would 
 have said, between Trinity Church and the beautiful 
 Eeservoir at the top of the Fifth Avenue monuments 
 of which she was personally proud ; and if we could 
 look into the deeper parts of her mind, I am afraid we 
 should discover there an impression that both the 
 countries of Europe and the remainder of her own con- 
 tinent were equally far from the centre and the 
 light. 
 
 "Well, scenery isn't everything," she remarked, 
 mildly, to Mr. Longstraw ; " and if Lady Agatha 
 should wish to see anything of that kind, all she has 
 got to do is to take the boat up the Hudson." 
 
 Mrs. Lemon's recognition of this river, I should 
 say, was all that it need have been ; she thought that 
 it existed for the purpose of supplying New Yorkers 
 with poetical feelings, helping them to face comfort- 
 ably occasions like the present, and, in general, meet 
 foreigners with confidence part of the oddity of 
 foreigners being their conceit about their own places. 
 
 " That's a good idea, Lady Agatha ; let's take the 
 boat," said Mr. Longstraw. " I've had great times on 
 the boats." 
 
 Lady Agatha looked at her cavalier a little with 
 those singular, charming eyes of hers eyes of which 
 it was impossible to say, at any moment, whether they 
 were the shyest or the frankest in the world ; and she 
 was not aware, while this contemplation lasted, that 
 her brother-in-law was observing her. He "was think- 
 ing of certain things while he did so, of things he had 
 heard about the English; who still, in spite of his 
 having married into a family of that nation, appeared 
 
104 TALES OF THKEE CITIES. [v. 
 
 to him very much through the medium of hearsay. 
 They were more passionate than the Americans, and 
 they did things that would never have been expected ; 
 though, they seemed steadier and less excitable, there 
 was much social evidence to show that they were more 
 impulsive. 
 
 "It's so very kind of you to propose that," Lady 
 Agatha said in a moment to Mrs. Lernon. " I think I 
 have never been in a ship except, of course, coming 
 from England. I am sure mamma would wish me to 
 see the Hudson. We used to go in immensely for 
 boating in England." 
 
 " Did you boat in a ship ? " Herman Longstraw 
 asked, showing his teeth hilariously, and pulling his 
 moustaches. 
 
 "Lots of my mother's people have been in the 
 navy/' Lady Agatha perceived vaguely and good- 
 naturedly that she had said something which the 
 odd Americans thought odd, and that she must justify 
 herself. Her standard of oddity was getting dreadfully 
 dislocated. 
 
 " I really think you had better come back to us," 
 said Jackson ; " your sister is very lonely without you." 
 
 " She is much more lonely with me. We are per- 
 petually having differences. Barb is dreadfully vexed 
 
 because I like America, instead of instead of " 
 
 And Lady Agatha paused a moment; for it just 
 occurred to her that this might be a betrayal. 
 
 " Instead of what ? " Jackson Lemon inquired. 
 
 " Instead of perpetually wanting to go to England, 
 as she does," she went on, only giving her phrase a 
 little softer turn ; for she felt the next moment that 
 her sister could have nothing to hide, and must, of 
 course, have the courage of her opinions. " Of course 
 
v.] LADY BARBEEINA. 105 
 
 England's best, but I dare say I like to be bad," said 
 Lady Agatha, artlessly. 
 
 " Oh, there's no doubt you are awfully bad ! " Mr. 
 Longstraw exclaimed, with joyous eagerness. Of course 
 he could not know that what she had principally in 
 mind was an exchange of opinions that had taken 
 place between her sister and herself just before she 
 came to stay with Mrs. Lemon. This incident, of 
 which Longstraw was the occasion, might indeed have 
 been called a discussion, for it had carried them quite 
 into the realms of the abstract. Lady Barb had said 
 she didn't see how Agatha could look at such a crea- 
 ture as that an odious, familiar, vulgar being, who 
 had not about him the rudiments of a gentleman. 
 Lady Agatha had replied that Mr. Longstraw was 
 familiar and rough, and that he had a twang, and 
 thought it amusing to talk of her as " the Princess ;" 
 but that he was a gentleman for all that, and that at 
 any rate he was tremendous fun. Her sister to this 
 had rejoined that if he was rough and familiar he 
 couldn't be a gentleman, inasmuch as that was just 
 what a gentleman meant a man who was civil, and 
 well-bred, and well-born. Lady Agatha had argued 
 that this was just where she differed; that a man 
 might perfectly be a gentleman, and yet be rough, and 
 even ignorant, so long as he was really nice. The 
 only thing was that he should be really nice, which 
 was the case with Mr. Longstraw, who, moreover, was 
 quite extraordinarily civil as civil as a man could be. 
 And then Lady Agatha made the strongest point she 
 had ever made in her life (she had never been so 
 inspired) in saying that Mr. Longstraw was rough, 
 perhaps, but not rude a distinction altogether wasted 
 on her sister, who declared that she had not come to 
 
106 TALES OF THREE CITIES. [v. 
 
 America, of all places, to learn what a gentleman was. 
 The discussion, in short, had been lively. I know not 
 whether it was the tonic effect on them, too, of the 
 fine winter weather, or, on the other hand, that of 
 Lady Barb's being bored and having nothing else to 
 do; but Lord Canterville's daughters went into the 
 question with the moral earnestness of a pair of 
 Bostonians. It was part of Lady Agatha's view of 
 her admirer that he, after all, much resembled other 
 tall people, with smiling eyes and moustaches, who 
 had ridden a good deal in rough countries, and whom 
 she had seen in other places. If he was more familiar, 
 he was also more alert ; still, the difference was not in 
 himself, but in the way she saw him the way she 
 saw everybody in America. If she should see the 
 others in the same way, no doubt they would be quite 
 the same ; and Lady Agatha sighed a little over the 
 possibilities of life ; for this peculiar way, especially 
 regarded in connection with gentlemen, had become 
 very pleasant to her. 
 
 She had betrayed her sister more than she thought, 
 even though Jackson Lemon did not particularly show 
 it in the tone in which he said : " Of course she knows 
 that she is going to see your mother in the summer." 
 His tone, rather, was that of irritation at the repetition 
 of a familiar idea. 
 
 " Oh, it isn't only mamma," replied Lady Agatha. 
 
 " I know she likes a cool house," said Mrs. Lemon, 
 suggestively. 
 
 " When she goes, you had better bid her good-bye," 
 the girl went on. 
 
 " Of course I shall bid her good-bye," said Mrs. 
 Lemon, to whom, apparently, this remark was ad- 
 dressed. 
 
v.] LADY BARBERINA. 107 
 
 " I shall never bid you good-bye, Princess/' Her- 
 man Longstraw interposed. " I can tell you that you 
 never will see the last of me." 
 
 " Oh, it doesn't matter about me, for I shall come 
 back ; but if Barb once gets to England she will never 
 come back." 
 
 " Oh, my dear child," murmured Mrs. Lemon, ad- 
 dressing Lady Agatha, but looking at her son. 
 
 Jackson looked at the ceiling, at the floor; above 
 all, he looked very conscious. 
 
 " I hope you don't mind my saying that, Jackson 
 dear," Lady Agatha said to him, for she was very fond 
 of her brother-in-law. 
 
 " Ah, well, then, she shan't go, then," he remarked, 
 after a moment, with a dry little laugh. 
 
 "But you promised mamma, you know," said the 
 girl, with the confidence of her affection. 
 
 Jackson looked at her with an eye which expressed 
 none even of his very moderate hilarity. " Your 
 mother, then, must bring her back." 
 
 " Get some of your navy people to supply an iron- 
 clad !" cried Mr. Longstraw. 
 
 " It would be very pleasant if the Marchioness 
 could come over," said Mrs. Lemon. 
 
 " Oh, she would hate it more than poor Barb," 
 Lady Agatha quickly replied. It did not suit her mood 
 at all to see a marchioness inserted into the field of 
 her vision. 
 
 "Doesn't she feel interested, from what you have 
 told her ?" Herman Longstraw asked of Lady Agatha. 
 But Jackson Lemon did not heed his sister-in-law's 
 answer ; he was thinking of something else. He said 
 nothing more, however, about the subject of his thought, 
 and before ten minutes were over he took his depart- 
 
108 TALES OF THEEE CITIES. [v. 
 
 ure, having, meanwhile, neglected also to revert to 
 the question of Lady Agatha's bringing her visit to his 
 mother to a close. It was not to speak to him of this 
 (for, as we know, she wished to keep the girl, and 
 somehow could not bring herself to be afraid of Her- 
 man Longstraw) that when Jackson took leave she 
 went with him to the door of the house, detaining him 
 a little, while she stood on the steps, as people had 
 always done in New York in her time, though it was 
 another of the new fashions she did not like, not to 
 come out of the parlour. She placed her hand on his 
 arm to keep him on the " stoop," and looked up and 
 down into the brilliant afternoon and the beautiful 
 city its chocolate-coloured houses, so extraordinarily 
 smooth in which it seemed to her that even the most 
 fastidious people ought to be glad to live. It was 
 useless to attempt to conceal it; her son's marriage 
 had made a difference, had put up a kind of barrier. 
 It had brought with it a problem much more difficult 
 than his old problem of how to make his mother feel 
 that she was still, as she had been in his childhood, the 
 dispenser of his rewards. The old problem had been 
 easily solved; the new one was a visible preoccupa- 
 tion. Mrs. Lemon felt that her daughter-in-law did 
 not take her seriously; and that was a part of the 
 barrier. Even if Barberina liked her better than any 
 one else, this was mostly because she liked every one 
 else so little. Mrs. Lemon had not a grain of resent- 
 ment in her nature ; and it was not to feed a sense of 
 wrong that she permitted herself to criticise her son's 
 wife. She could not help feeling that his marriage 
 was not altogether fortunate if his wife didn't take his 
 mother seriously. She knew she was not otherwise 
 remarkable than as being his mother ; but that posi- 
 
v.] LADY BABBEKINA. 109 
 
 tion, which was no merit of hers (the merit was all 
 Jackson's, in being her son), seemed to her one which, 
 familiar as Lady Barb appeared to have been in Eng- 
 land with positions of various kinds, would naturally 
 strike the girl as a very high one, to be accepted as 
 freely as a fine morning. If she didn't think of his 
 mother as an indivisible part of him, perhaps she 
 didn't think of other things either ; and Mrs. Lemon 
 vaguely felt that, remarkable as Jackson was, he was 
 made up of parts, and that it would never do that 
 these parts should depreciate one by one, for there was 
 no knowing what that might end in. She feared that 
 things were rather cold for him at home when he had 
 to explain so much to his wife explain to her, for 
 instance, all the sources of happiness that were to be 
 found in New York. This struck her as a new kind 
 of problem altogether for a husband. She had never 
 thought of matrimony without a community of feeling 
 in regard to religion and country ; one took those great 
 conditions for granted, just as one assumed that one's 
 food was to be cooked ; and if Jackson should have to 
 discuss them with his wife, he might, in spite of his 
 great abilities, be carried into regions where he would 
 get entangled and embroiled from which, even, pos- 
 sibly, he would not come back at all. Mrs. Lemon 
 had a horror of losing him in some way ; and this fear 
 was in her eyes as she stood on the steps of her house, 
 and, after she had glanced up and down the street, 
 looked at him a moment in silence. He simply kissed 
 her again, and said she would take cold. 
 
 " I am not afraid of that, I have a shawl ! " Mrs. 
 Lemon, who was very small and very fair, with 
 pointed features and an elaborate cap, passed her life 
 in a shawl, and owed to this habit her reputation for 
 
110 TALES OF THEEE CITIES. [vi. 
 
 being an invalid an idea which she scorned, naturally 
 enough, inasmuch as it was precisely her shawl that 
 (as she believed) kept her from being one. " Is it true 
 Barberina won't come back ? " she asked of her son. 
 
 " I don't know that we shall ever find out ; I don't 
 know that I shall take her to England." 
 
 " Didn't you promise, dear ? " 
 
 " I don't know that I promised ; not absolutely." 
 
 "But you wouldn't keep her here against her 
 will ?" said Mrs. Lemon, inconsequently. 
 
 " I guess she'll get used to it," Jackson answered, 
 with a lightness he did not altogether feel. 
 
 Mrs. Lemon looked up and down the street again, 
 and gave a little sigh. "What a pity she isn't 
 American ! " She did not mean this as a reproach, a 
 hint of what might have been; it was simply em- 
 barrassment resolved into speech. 
 
 " She couldn't have been American/' said Jackson, 
 with decision. 
 
 " Couldn't she, dear ? " Mrs. Lemon spoke with a 
 kind of respect ; she felt that there were imperceptible 
 reasons in this. 
 
 " It was just as she is that I wanted her," Jackson 
 added. 
 
 " Even if she won't come back ? " his mother asked, 
 with a certain wonder. 
 
 " Oh, she has got to come back ! " Jackson said, 
 going down the steps. 
 
 VI. 
 
 LADY BARB, after this, did not decline to see her New 
 York acquaintances on Sunday afternoons, though she 
 
vi.] LADY BAEBERINA. Ill 
 
 refused for the present to enter into a project of her 
 husband's, who thought it would be a pleasant thing 
 that she should entertain his friends on the evening of 
 that day. Like all good Americans, Jackson Lemon 
 devoted much consideration to the great question how, 
 in his native land, society should be brought into being. 
 It seemed to him that it would help the good cause, 
 for which so many Americans are ready to lay down 
 their lives, if his wife should, as he jocularly called it, 
 open a saloon. He believed, or he tried to believe, the 
 salon now possible in New York, on condition of its 
 being reserved entirely for adults ; and in having taken 
 a wife out of a country in which social traditions were 
 rich and ancient, he had done something towards 
 qualifying his own house so splendidly qualified in 
 all strictly material respects to be the scene of such 
 an effort. A charming woman, accustomed only to the 
 best in each country, as Lady Beauchemin said, what 
 might she not achieve by being at home (to the elder 
 generation) in an easy, early, inspiring, comprehensive 
 way, on the evening in the week on which worldly 
 engagements were least numerous ? He laid this 
 philosophy before Lady Barb, in pursuance of a theory 
 that if she disliked "New York on a short acquaintance, 
 she could not fail to like it on a long one. Jackson 
 Lemon believed in the New York mind not so much, 
 indeed, in its literary, artistic, or political achievements, 
 as in its general quickness and nascent adaptability. 
 He clung to this belief, for it was a very important 
 piece of material in the structure that he was 
 attempting to rear. The New York mind would throw 
 its glamour over Lady Barb if she would only give it 
 a chance ; for it was exceedingly bright, entertaining, 
 and sympathetic. If she would only have a salon, 
 
112 TALES OF THREE CITIES. [vr. 
 
 where this charming organ might expand, and where 
 she might inhale its fragrance in the most convenient 
 and luxurious way, without, as it were, getting up from 
 her chair ; if she would only just try this graceful, 
 good-natured experiment (which would make every 
 one like her so much, too), he was sure that all the 
 wrinkles in the gilded scroll of his fate would be 
 smoothed out. But Lady Barb did not rise at all to 
 his conception, and had not the least curiosity about 
 the New York mind. She thought it would be 
 extremely disagreeable to have a lot of people tumbling 
 in on Sunday evening without being invited ; and 
 altogether her husband's sketch of the Anglo-American 
 saloon seemed to her to suggest familiarity, high- 
 pitched talk (she had already made a remark to him 
 about " screeching women "), and exaggerated laughter. 
 She did not tell him for this, somehow, it was not in 
 her power to express, and, strangely enough, he never 
 completely guessed it that she was singularly deficient 
 in any natural, or indeed acquired, understanding of 
 what a saloon might be. She had never seen one, and 
 for the most part she never thought of things she had 
 not seen. She had seen great dinners, and balls, and 
 meets, and runs, and races ; she had seen garden- 
 parties, and a lot of people, mainly women (who, 
 however, didn't screech), at dull, stuffy teas, and 
 distinguished companies collected in splendid castles ; 
 but all this gave her no idea of a tradition of conversa- 
 tion, of a social agreement that the continuity of talk, 
 its accumulations from season to season, should not be 
 lost. Conversation, in Lady Barb's experience, had 
 never been continuous ; in such a case it would surely 
 have been a bore. It had been occasional and frag- 
 mentary, a trifle jerky, with allusions that were never 
 
VI. 
 
 LADY BAEBERINA. 113 
 
 explained ; it had a dread of detail ; it seldom pursued 
 anything very far, or kept hold of it very long. 
 
 There was something else that she did not say to 
 her husband in reference to his visions of hospitality, 
 which was, that if she should open a saloon (she had 
 taken up the joke as well, for Lady Barb was 
 eminently good-natured), Mrs. Vanderdecken would 
 straightway open another, and Mrs. Vanderdecken's 
 would be the more successful of the two. This lady, 
 for reasons that Lady Barb had not yet explored, was 
 supposed to be the great personage in New York ; 
 there were legends of her husband's family having 
 behind them a fabulous antiquity. When this was 
 alluded to, it was spoken of as something incalculable, 
 and lost in the dimness of time. Mrs. Vanderdecken 
 was young, pretty, clever, absurdly pretentious (Lady 
 Barb thought), and had a wonderfully artistic house. 
 Ambition, also, was expressed in every rustle of her 
 garments ; and if she was the first person in America 
 (this had an immense sound), it was plain that she 
 intended to remain so. It was not till after she had 
 been several months in New York that it came over 
 Lady Barb that this brilliant, bristling native had 
 flung down the glove ; and when the idea presented 
 itself, lighted up by an incident which I have no space 
 to relate, she simply blushed a little (for Mrs. Vander- 
 decken), and held her tongue. She had not come to 
 America to bandy words about precedence with such a 
 woman as that. She had ceased to think about it 
 much (of course one thought about it in England) ; but 
 an instinct of self-preservation led her not to expose 
 herself to occasions on which her claim might be tested. 
 This, at bottom, had much to do with her having, very 
 soon after the first flush of the honours paid her on 
 
 I 
 
114 TALES OF THREE CITIES. [vi. 
 
 her arrival, and which seemed to her rather grossly 
 overdone, taken the line of scarcely going out. " They 
 can't keep that up ! " she had said to herself ; and, in 
 short, she would stay at home. She had a feeling that 
 whenever she should go forth she would meet Mrs. 
 Vanderdecken, who would withhold, or deny, or contest 
 something poor Lady Barb could never imagine what. 
 She did not try to, and gave little thought to all this ; 
 for she was not prone to confess to herself fears, 
 especially fears from which terror was absent. But, 
 as I have said, it abode within her as a presentiment 
 that if she x should set up a drawing-room in the 
 foreign style (it was curious, in New York, how they 
 tried to be foreign), Mrs. Vanderdecken would be 
 beforehand with her. The continuity of conversation, 
 oh ! that idea she would certainly have ; there was no 
 one so continuous as Mrs. Vanderdecken. Lady Barb, 
 as I have related, did not give her husband the surprise 
 of telling him of these thoughts, though she had given 
 him some other surprises. He would have been very 
 much astonished, and perhaps, after a bit, a little 
 encouraged, at finding that she was liable to this 
 particular form of irritation. 
 
 On the Sunday afternoon she was visible ; and on 
 one of these occasions, going into her drawing-room 
 late, he found her entertaining two ladies and a gentle- 
 man. The gentleman was Sidney Feeder, and one of 
 the ladies was Mrs. Vanderdecken, whose ostensible 
 relations with Lady Barb were of the most cordial 
 nature. If she intended to crush her (as two or three 
 persons, not conspicuous for a narrow accuracy, gave 
 out that she privately declared), Mrs. Vanderdecken 
 wished at least to study the weak points of the in- 
 vader, to penetrate herself with the character of the 
 
vi.] LADY BARBERINA. 115 
 
 English girl. Lady Barb, indeed, appeared to have 
 a mysterious fascination for the representative of the 
 American patriciate. Mrs. Vanderdecken could not 
 take her eyes off her victim ; and whatever might be 
 her estimate of her importance, she at least could not 
 let her alone. " Why does she come to see me ? " 
 poor Lady Barb asked herself. " I am sure I don't 
 want to see her; she has done enough for civility 
 long ago." Mrs. Vanderdecken had her own reasons ; 
 and one of them was simply the pleasure of looking 
 at the Doctor's wife, as she habitually called the 
 daughter of the Gantervilles. She was not guilty of 
 the folly of depreciating this lady's appearance, and 
 professed an unbounded admiration for it, defending 
 it on many occasions against superficial people who 
 said there were fifty women in New York that were 
 handsomer. Whatever might have been Lady Barb's 
 weak points, they were not the curve of her cheek 
 and chin, the setting of her head on her throat, or the 
 quietness of her deep eyes, which were as beautiful as 
 if they had been blank, like those of antique busts. 
 " The head is enchanting perfectly enchanting," Mrs. 
 Vanderdecken used to say irrelevantly, as if there 
 were only one head in the place. She always used to 
 ask about the Doctor ; and that was another reason 
 why she came. She brought up the Doctor at every 
 turn ; asked if he were often called up at night ; 
 found it the greatest of luxuries, in a word, to address 
 Lady Barb as the wife of a medical man, more or less 
 au courant of her husband's patients. The other lady, 
 on this Sunday afternoon, was a certain little Mrs. 
 Chew, whose clothes looked so new that she had the 
 air of a walking advertisement issued by a great shop, 
 and who was always asking Lady Barb about England, 
 
116 TALES OF THREE CITIES. [vi. 
 
 which Mrs. Vanderdecken never did. The latter 
 visitor conversed with Lady Barb on a purely Ameri- 
 can basis, with that continuity (on her own side) of 
 which mention has already been made, while Mrs. 
 Chew engaged Sidney Feeder on topics equally local. 
 Lady Barb liked Sidney Feeder ; she only hated his 
 name, which was constantly in her ears during the 
 half-hour the ladies sat with her, Mrs. Chew having 
 the habit, which annoyed Lady Barb, of repeating per- 
 petually the appellation of her interlocutor. 
 
 Lady Barb's relations with Mrs. Vanderdecken 
 consisted mainly in wondering, while she talked, what 
 she wanted of her, and in looking, with her sculptured 
 eyes, at her visitor's clothes, in which there was 
 always much to examine. " Oh, Doctor Feeder ! " 
 "Now, Doctor Feeder!" "Well, Doctor Feeder," 
 these exclamations, on the lips of Mrs. Chew, were an 
 undertone in Lady Barb's consciousness. When I say 
 that she liked her husband's confrere, as he used to 
 call himself, I mean that she smiled at him when he 
 came, and gave him her hand, and asked him if he 
 would have some tea. There was nothing nasty (as 
 they said in London) in Lady Barb, and she would 
 have been incapable of inflicting a deliberate snub 
 upon a man who had the air of standing up so squarely 
 to any work that he might have in hand. But she 
 had nothing to say to Sidney Feeder. He apparently 
 had the art of making her shy, more shy than usual ; 
 for she was always a little so ; she discouraged him, 
 discouraged him completely. He was not a man who 
 wanted drawing out, there was nothing of that in him, 
 he was remarkably copious ; but Lady Barb appeared 
 unable to follow him, and half the time, evidently, did 
 not know what he was saying. He tried to adapt his 
 
vi.] LADY BARBERINA. 
 
 conversation to her needs ; but when he spoke of the 
 world, of what was going on in society, she was more 
 at sea even than when he spoke of hospitals and 
 laboratories, and the health of the city, and the pro- 
 gress of science. She appeared, indeed, after her first 
 smile, when he came in, which was always charming, 
 scarcely to see him, looking past him, and above him, 
 and below him, and everywhere but at him, until he 
 got up to go again, when she gave him. another smile, 
 as expressive of pleasure and of casual acquaintance 
 as that with which she had greeted his entry; it 
 seemed to imply that they had been having delight- 
 ful talk for an hour. He wondered what the deuce 
 Jackson Lemon could find interesting in such a 
 woman, and he believed that his perverse, though 
 gifted colleague, was not destined to feel that she 
 illuminated his life. He pitied Jackson, he saw that 
 Lady Barb, in New York, would neither assimilate 
 nor be assimilated ; and yet he was afraid to betray 
 his incredulity, thinking it might be depressing to 
 poor Lemon to show him how his marriage now so 
 dreadfully irrevocable struck others. Sidney Feeder 
 was a man of a strenuous conscience, and he did his 
 duty overmuch by his old friend and his wife, from 
 the simple fear that he should not do it enough. In 
 order not to appear to neglect them, he called upon 
 Lady Barb heroically, in spite of pressing engagements, 
 week after week, enjoying his virtue himself as little 
 as he made it fruitful for his hostess, who wondered 
 at last what she had done to deserve these visitations. 
 She spoke of them to her husband, who wondered also 
 what poor Sidney had in his head, and yet was unable, 
 of course, to hint to him that he need not think it 
 necessary to come so often. Between Doctor Feeder's 
 
118 TALES OF THREE CITIES. [vi. 
 
 wish not to let Jackson see that his marriage had 
 made a difference, and Jackson's hesitation to re- 
 veal to Sidney that his standard of friendship was too 
 high, Lady Barb passed a good many of those numerous 
 hours during which she asked herself if she had come 
 to America for that. Very little had ever passed 
 between her and her husband on the subject of Sidney 
 Feeder ; for an instinct told her that if they were ever 
 to have scenes, she must choose the occasion well ; 
 and this odd person was not an occasion. Jackson 
 had tacitly admitted that his friend Feeder was any- 
 thing she chose to think him ; he was not a man to 
 be guilty, in a discussion, of the disloyalty of damning 
 him with praise that was faint. If Lady Agatha had 
 usually been with her sister, Doctor Feeder would 
 have been better entertained ; for the younger of the 
 English visitors prided herself, after several months of 
 New York, on understanding everything that was said, 
 and catching every allusion, it mattered not from what 
 lips it fell. But Lady Agatha was never at home ; 
 she had learned how to describe herself perfectly by 
 the time she wrote to her mother that she was always 
 "on the go." None of the innumerable victims of 
 old-world tyranny who have fled to the United States 
 as to a land of freedom, have ever offered more lavish 
 incense to that goddess than this emancipated London 
 debutante. She had enrolled herself in an amiable 
 band which was known by the humorous name of 
 " the Tearers " a dozen young ladies of agreeable 
 appearance, high spirits and good wind, whose most 
 general characteristic was that, when wanted, they 
 were to be sought anywhere in the world but under 
 the roof that was supposed to shelter them. They 
 were never at home ; and when Sidney Feeder, as 
 
vi.] LADY BARBEBIXA. 119 
 
 sometimes happened, met Lady Agatha at other houses, 
 she was in the hands of the irrepressible Longstraw. 
 She had come back to her sister, but Mr. Longstraw 
 had followed her to the door. As to passing it, he 
 had received direct discouragement from her brother- 
 in-law ; but he could at least hang about and wait for 
 her. It may be confided to the reader, at the risk of 
 diminishing the effect of the only incident which in 
 the course of this very level narrative may startle him, 
 that he never had to wait very long. 
 
 When Jackson Lemon came in, his wife's visitors 
 were on the point of leaving her ; and he did not ask 
 even Sidney Feeder to remain, for he had something 
 particular to say to Lady Barb. 
 
 " I haven't asked you half what I wanted I have 
 been talking so much to Doctor Feeder," the dressy 
 Mrs. Chew said, holding the hand of her hostess in 
 one of her own, and toying with one of Lady Barb's 
 ribbons with the other. 
 
 "I don't think I have anything to tell you; I 
 think I have told people everything," Lady Barb 
 answered, rather wearily. 
 
 "You haven't told me much!" Mrs, Vanderdecken 
 said, smiling brightly. 
 
 " What could one tell you ? you know everything/' 
 Jackson Lemon interposed, 
 
 " Ah, no ; there are some things that are great 
 mysteries for me," the lady returned. " I hope you 
 are Doming to me on the 17th," she added, to Lady 
 Barb. 
 
 " On the 17th ? I think we are going somewhere." 
 
 " Do go to Mrs. Vanderdecken's," said Mrs. Chew ; 
 " you will see the cream of the cream/' 
 
 " Oh, gracious ! " Mrs. Vanderdecken exclaimed. 
 
120 TALES OF THREE CITIES. [vi. 
 
 ""Well, I don't care; she will, won't she, Doctor 
 Feeder ? the very pick of American society." Mrs. 
 Chew stuck to her point. 
 
 " Well, I have no doubt Lady Barb will have a 
 good time," said Sidney Feeder. "I'm afraid you 
 miss the bran," he went on, with irrelevant jocosity, 
 to Lady Barb. He always tried the jocose when other 
 elements had failed. 
 
 " The bran ? " asked Lady Barb, staring. 
 
 " Where you used to ride, in the Park." 
 
 "My dear fellow, you speak as if it were the 
 circus," Jackson Lemon said, smiling ; " I haven't 
 married a mountebank ! " 
 
 " Well, they put some stuff on the road," Sidney 
 Feeder explained, not holding much to his joke. 
 
 " You must miss a great many things," said Mrs. 
 Chew, tenderly. 
 
 " I don't see what," Mrs. Vanderdecken remarked, 
 " except the fogs and the Queen. New York is getting 
 more and more like London. It's a pity ; you ought 
 to have known us thirty years ago." 
 
 " You are the queen, here," said Jackson Lemon ; 
 "but I don't know what you know about thirty years 
 ago." 
 
 "Do you think she doesn't go back? she goes 
 back to the last century ! " cried Mrs. Chew. 
 
 " I dare say I should have liked that," said Lady 
 Barb ; " but I can't imagine." And she looked at her 
 husband a look she often had as if she vaguely 
 wished him to do something. 
 
 He was not called upon, however, to take any 
 violent steps, for Mrs. Chew presently said : " Well, 
 Lady Barberina, good-bye ;" and Mrs. Vanderdecken 
 smiled in silence at her hostess, and addressed a fare- 
 
vi.] LADY BARBERINA. 121 
 
 well, accompanied very audibly with his title, to her 
 host ; and Sidney Feeder made a joke about stepping 
 on the trains of the ladies' dresses as he accompanied 
 them to the door. Mrs. Chew had always a great 
 deal to say at the last ; she talked till she was in the 
 street, and then she did not cease. But at the end of 
 five minutes Jackson Lemon was alone with his wife ; 
 and then he told her a piece of news. He prefaced 
 it, however, by an inquiry as he came back from the 
 hall. 
 
 " Where is Agatha, my dear ?" 
 
 " I haven't the least idea. In the streets some- 
 where, I suppose." 
 
 " I think you ought to know a little more." 
 
 " How can I know about things here ? I have 
 given her up ; I can do nothing with her. I don't 
 care what she does." 
 
 " She ought to go back to England," Jackson 
 Lemon said, after a pause. 
 
 " She ought never to have come." 
 
 " It was not my proposal, God knows ! " Jackson 
 answered, rather sharply. 
 
 " Mamma could never know what it really is," said 
 his wife. 
 
 " No, it has not been as yet what your mother sup- 
 posed ! Herman Longstraw wants to marry her. He 
 has made me a formal proposal. I met him half an 
 hour ago in Madison Avenue, and he asked me to 
 come with him into the Columbia Club. There, in 
 the billiard-room, which to-day is empty, he opened 
 himself thinking evidently that in laying the matter 
 before me he was behaving with extraordinary pro- 
 priety. He tells me he is dying of love, and that she 
 is perfectly willing to go and live in Arizona." 
 
122 TALES OF THREE CITIES. [vi. 
 
 " So she is," said Lady Barb. " And what did you 
 tell him?" 
 
 " I told him that I was sure it would never do, and 
 that at any rate I could have nothing to say to it. I 
 told him explicitly, in short, what I had told him vir- 
 tually before. I said that we should send Agatha 
 straight back to England, and that if they have the 
 courage they must themselves broach the question over 
 there." 
 
 " When shall you send her back ? " asked Lady 
 Barb. 
 
 " Immediately ; by the very first steamer." 
 
 " Alone, like an American girl ? " 
 
 " Don't be rough, Barb," said Jackson Lemon. " I 
 shall easily find some people; lots of people are sailing 
 now." 
 
 " I must take her myself," Lady Barb declared in a 
 moment. "I brought her out, and I must restore her 
 to my mother's hands." 
 
 Jackson Lemon had expected this, and he believed 
 he was prepared for it. But when it came he found 
 his preparation was not complete ; for he had no 
 answer to make none, at least, that seemed to him to 
 go to the point. During these last weeks it had come 
 over him, with a quiet, irresistible, unmerciful force, 
 that Mrs. Dexter Freer had been right when she said 
 to him, that Sunday afternoon in Jermyn Street, the 
 summer before, that he would find it was not so simple 
 to be an American. Such an identity was complicated, 
 in just the measure that she had foretold, by the diffi- 
 culty of domesticating one's wife. The difficulty was 
 not dissipated by his having taken a high tone about 
 it ; it pinched him from morning till night, like a mis- 
 fitting shoe. His high tone had given him courage 
 
vi.] LADY BARBERINA. 123 
 
 when he took the great step; but he began to perceive 
 that the highest tone in the world cannot change the 
 nature of things. His ears tingled when he reflected 
 that if the Dexter Freers, whom he had thought alike 
 ignoble in their hopes and their fears, had been by 
 ill-luck spending the winter in New York, they would 
 have found his predicament as entertaining as they 
 could desire. Drop by drop the conviction had en- 
 tered his mind the first drop had come in the form 
 of a word from Lady Agatha that if his wife should 
 return to England she would never again cross the 
 Atlantic to the West. That word from Lady Agatha 
 had been the touch from the outside, at which, often, 
 one's fears crystallise. What she would do, how she 
 would resist this he was not yet prepared to tell 
 himself; but he felt, every time he looked at her, that 
 this beautiful woman whom he had adored was filled 
 with a dumb, insuperable, ineradicable purpose. He 
 knew that if she should plant herself, no power 011 
 earth would move her; and her blooming, antique 
 beauty, and the general loftiness of her breeding, came 
 to seem to him rapidly but the magnificent expres- 
 sion of a dense, patient, imperturbable obstinacy. She 
 was not light, she was not supple, and after six months 
 of marriage he had made up his mind that she was 
 not clever; but nevertheless she would elude him. 
 She had married him, she had come into his fortune 
 and his consideration for who was she, after all ? 
 Jackson Lemon was once so angry as to ask himself, 
 reminding himself that in England Lady Claras and 
 Lady Florences were as thick as blackberries but she 
 would have nothing to do, if she could help it, with 
 his country. She had gone in to dinner first in 
 every house in the place, but this had not satisfied 
 
124 TALES OF THREE CITIES. [vi. 
 
 her. It had been simple to be an American, in this 
 sense that no one else in New York had made any 
 difficulties; the difficulties had sprung from her 
 peculiar feelings, which were after all what he had 
 married her for, thinking they would be a fine tem- 
 peramental heritage for his Jbrood. So they would, 
 doubtless, in the coming years, after the brood should 
 have appeared ; but meanwhile they interfered with 
 the best heritage of all the nationality of his possible 
 children. Lady Barb would do nothing violent ; he 
 was tolerably certain of that. She would not return 
 to England without his consent; only, when she should 
 return, it would be once for all. His only possible 
 line, then, was not to take her back a position replete 
 with difficulties, because, of course, he had, in a man- 
 ner, given his word, while she had given no word at all, 
 beyond the general promise she murmured at the altar. 
 She had been general, but he had been specific; 
 the settlements he had made were a part of that. 
 His difficulties were such as he could not directly face. 
 He must tack in approaching so uncertain a coast. 
 He said to Lady Barb presently that it would be very 
 inconvenient for him to leave New York at that mo- 
 ment : she must remember that their plans had been 
 laid for a later departure. He could not think of 
 letting her make the voyage without him, and, on the 
 other hand, they must pack her sister off without 
 delay. He would therefore make instant inquiry for 
 a chaperon, and he relieved his irritation by expressing 
 considerable disgust at Herman Longstraw. 
 
 Lady Barb did not trouble herself to denounce this 
 gentleman ; her manner was that of having for a long 
 time expected the worst. She simply remarked dryly, 
 after having listened to her husband for some minutes 
 
vi.] LADY BARBERINA. 125 
 
 in silence : " I would as lief she should marry Doctor 
 Feeder ! " 
 
 The day after this, Jackson Lemon closeted himself 
 for an hour with Lady Agatha, taking great pains to 
 set forth to her the reasons why she should not unite 
 herself with her Californian. Jackson was kind, he 
 was affectionate ; he kissed her and put his arm round 
 her waist, he reminded her that he and she were the 
 best of friends, and that she had always been awfully 
 nice to him ; therefore he counted upon her. She 
 would break her mother's heart, she would deserve her 
 father's curse, and she would get him, Jackson, into a 
 pickle from which no human power could ever dis- 
 embroil him. Lady Agatha listened and cried, and 
 returned his kiss very affectionately, and admitted 
 that her father and mother would never consent to 
 such a marriage ; and when he told her that he had 
 made arrangements for her to sail for Liverpool (with 
 some charming people) the next day but one, she em- 
 braced him again and assured him that she could 
 never thank him enough for all the trouble he had 
 taken about her. He nattered himself that he had 
 convinced, and in some degree comforted her, and 
 reflected with complacency that even should his wife 
 take it into her head, Barberina would never get ready 
 to embark for her native land between a Monday and 
 a Wednesday. The next morning Lady Agatha did 
 not appear at breakfast ; but as she usually rose very 
 late, her absence excited no alarm. She had not rung 
 her bell, and she was supposed still to be sleeping. 
 But she had never yet slept later than midday ; and 
 as this hour approached her sister went to her room. 
 Lady Barb then discovered that she had left the house 
 at seven o'clock in the morning, and had gone to 
 
126 TALES OF THREE CITIES. [vi. 
 
 meet Herman Longstraw at a neighbouring corner. A 
 little note on the table explained it very succinctly, 
 and put beyond the power of Jackson Lemon and his 
 wife to doubt that by the time this news reached 
 them their wayward sister had been united to the 
 man of her preference as closely as the laws of the 
 State of New York could bind her. Her little note 
 set forth that as she knew she should never be per- 
 mitted to marry him, she had determined to marry 
 him without permission, and that directly after the 
 ceremony, which would be of the simplest kind, they 
 were to take a train for the far West. Our history 
 is concerned only with the remote consequences of 
 this incident, which made, of course, a great deal of 
 trouble for Jackson Lemon. He went to the far 
 West in pursuit of the fugitives, and overtook them 
 in California; but he had not the audacity to propose 
 to them to separate, as it was easy for him to see that 
 Herman Longstraw was at least as well married as 
 himself. Lady Agatha was already popular in the 
 new States, where the history of her elopement, em- 
 blazoned in enormous capitals, was circulated in a 
 thousand newspapers. This question of the newspapers 
 had been for Jackson Lemon one of the most definite 
 results of his sister-in-law's coup de Ute. His first 
 thought had been of the public prints, and his first 
 exclamation a prayer that they should not get hold 
 of the story. But they did get hold of it, and they 
 treated the affair with their customary energy and 
 eloquence. Lady Barb never saw them; but an 
 affectionate friend of the family, travelling at that 
 time in the United States, made a parcel of some of 
 the leading journals, and sent them to Lord Canter- 
 ville. This missive elicited from her ladyship a letter 
 
vi.] LADY BARBEKINA. 12*7 
 
 addressed to Jackson Lemon which shook the young 
 man's position to the base. The phials of an unname- 
 able vulgarity had been opened upon the house of 
 Canterville, and his mother-in-law demanded that in 
 compensation for the affronts and injuries that were 
 being heaped upon her family, and bereaved and dis- 
 honoured as she was, she should at least be allowed to 
 look on the face of her other daughter. " I suppose 
 you will not, for very pity, be deaf to such a prayer 
 as that," said Lady Barb ; and though shrinking from 
 recording a second act of weakness on the part of a man 
 who had such pretensions to be strong, I must relate 
 that poor Jackson, who blushed dreadfully over the 
 newspapers, and felt afresh, as he read them, the force 
 of Mrs. Freer's terrible axiom poor Jackson paid a 
 visit to the office of the Cunarders. He said to him- 
 self afterward that it was the newspapers that had done 
 it; he could not bear to appear to be on their side; 
 they made it so hard to deny that the country was 
 vulgar, at a time when one was in such need of all 
 one's arguments. Lady Barb, before sailing, definitely 
 refused to mention any week or month as the date of 
 their pre-arranged return to New York. Very many 
 weeks and months have elapsed since then, and she 
 gives no sign of coming back. She will never fix a 
 date. She is much missed by Mrs. Vanderdecken, 
 who still alludes to her still says the line of the 
 shoulders was superb ; putting the statement, pen- 
 sively, in the past tense. Lady Beauchemin and Lady 
 Marmaduke are much disconcerted ; the international 
 project has not, in their view, received an impetus. 
 
 Jackson Lemon has a house in London, and he 
 rides in the park with his wife, who is as beautiful as 
 the day, and a year ago presented him with a little 
 
128 TALES OF THREE CITIES. [vi. 
 
 girl, with features that Jackson already scans for the 
 look of race whether in hope or fear, to-day, is more 
 than my muse has revealed. He has occasional scenes 
 with Lady Barb, during which the look of race is very 
 visible in her own countenance ; but they never termi- 
 nate in a visit to the Cunarders. He is exceedingly 
 restless, and is constantly crossing to the Continent; 
 but he returns with a certain abruptness, for he can- 
 not bear to meet the Dexter Freers, and they seem 
 to pervade the more comfortable parts of Europe. 
 He dodges them in every town. Sidney Feeder feels 
 very badly about him ; it is months since Jackson has 
 sent him any "results." The excellent fellow goes 
 very often, in a consolatory spirit, to see Mrs. Lemon ; 
 but he has not yet been able to answer her standing 
 question : "Why that girl more than another ?" Lady 
 Agatha Longstraw and her husband arrived a year 
 ago in England, and Mr. Longstraw's personality had 
 immense success during the last London season. It 
 is not exactly known what they live on, though it is 
 perfectly known that he is looking for something to 
 do. Meanwhile it is as good as known that Jackson 
 Lemon supports them. 
 
A NEW ENGLAND WINTER 
 
 K 
 
I. 
 
 MRS. DAINTRY stood on her steps a moment, to 
 address a parting injunction to her little domestic, 
 whom she had induced a few days before, by earnest 
 and friendly argument the only coercion or persua- 
 sion this enlightened mistress was ever known to use 
 to crown her ruffled tresses with a cap ; and then, 
 slowly and with deliberation, she descended to the 
 street. As soon as her back was turned, her maid- 
 servant closed the door, not with violence, but in- 
 audibly, quickly, and firmly ; so that when she reached 
 the bottom of the steps and looked up again at the 
 front as she always did before leaving it, to assure 
 herself that everything was well the folded wings of 
 her portal were presented to her, smooth and shining, 
 as wings should be, and ornamented with the large 
 silver plate on which the name of her late husband 
 was inscribed which she had brought with her when, 
 taking the inevitable course of good Bostonians, she 
 had transferred her household goods from the " hill " 
 to the "new land," and the exhibition of which, as an 
 act of conjugal fidelity, she preferred how much, 
 those who knew her could easily understand to the 
 more distinguished modern fashion of suppressing the 
 domiciliary label. She stood still for a minute on the 
 
132 TALES OF THREE CITIES. [i. 
 
 pavement, looking at the closed aperture of her dwell- 
 ing and asking herself a question ; not that there was 
 anything extraordinary in that, for she never spared 
 herself in this respect. She would greatly have pre- 
 ferred that her servant should not shut the door till 
 she had reached the sidewalk and dismissed her, as 
 it were, with that benevolent, that almost maternal, 
 smile with which it was a part of Mrs. Daintry's 
 religion to encourage and reward her domestics. She 
 liked to know that her door was being held open 
 behind her until she should pass out of sight of the 
 young woman standing in the hall. There was a 
 want of respect in shutting her out so precipitately ; 
 it was almost like giving her a push down the steps. 
 What Mrs. Daintry asked herself was, whether she 
 should not do right to ascend the steps again, ring the 
 bell, and request Beatrice, the parlour-maid, to be so 
 good as to wait a little longer. She felt that this 
 would have been a proceeding of some importance, 
 and she presently decided against it. There were a 
 good many reasons, and she thought them over as she 
 took her way slowly up Newbury Street, turning as 
 soon as possible into Commonwealth Avenue ; for she 
 was very fond of the south side of this beautiful 
 prospect, and the autumn sunshine to-day was de- 
 lightful. During the moment that she paused, looking 
 up at her house, she had had time to see that every- 
 thing was as fresh and bright as she could desire. It 
 looked a little too new, perhaps, and Florimond would 
 not like that ; for of course his great fondness was for 
 the antique, which was the reason for his remaining 
 year after year in Europe, where, as a young painter 
 of considerable, if not of the highest, promise, he had 
 opportunities to study the most dilapidated buildings. 
 
I.] A NEW ENGLAND WINTER. 133 
 
 It was a comfort to Mrs. Daintry, however, to be able 
 to say to herself that he would be struck with her 
 living really very nicely more nicely, in many ways, 
 than he could possibly be accommodated that she 
 was sure of in a small dark appartement de gargon 
 in Paris, on the uncomfortable side of the Seine. 
 Her state of mind at present was such that she set 
 the highest value on anything that could possibly 
 help to give Florimond a pleasant impression. Noth- 
 ing could be too small to count, she said to herself; 
 for she knew that Florimond was both fastidious and 
 observant. Everything that would strike him agree- 
 ably would contribute to detain him, so that if there 
 were only enough agreeable things he would perhaps 
 stay four or five months, instead of three, as he had 
 promised the three that were to date from the day 
 of his arrival in Boston, not from that (an important 
 difference) of his departure from Liverpool, which was 
 about to take place. 
 
 It was Florimond that Mrs. Daintry had had in 
 mind when, on emerging from the little vestibule, she 
 gave the direction to Beatrice about the position of 
 the door-mat in which the young woman, so carefully 
 selected, as a Protestant, from the British Provinces, 
 had never yet taken the interest that her mistress 
 expected from such antecedents. It was Florimond 
 also that she had thought of in putting before her 
 parlour -maid the question of donning a badge of 
 servitude in the shape of a neat little muslin coif, 
 adorned with pink ribbon and stitched together by 
 Mrs. Daintry 's own beneficent fingers. Naturally 
 there was no obvious connection between the parlour- 
 maid's coiffure and the length of Florimond's stay ; 
 that detail was to be only a part of the general effect 
 
134 TALES OF THREE CITIES. [i. 
 
 of American life. It was still Florimond that was 
 uppermost as his mother, on her way up the hill, 
 turned over in her mind that question of the ceremony 
 of the front-door. He had been living in a country 
 in which servants observed more forms, and he would 
 doubtless be shocked at Beatrice's want of patience. 
 An accumulation of such anomalies would at last 
 undermine his loyalty. He would not care for them 
 for himself, of course, but he would care about them 
 for her; coming from France, where, as she knew by 
 his letters, and indeed by her own reading for she 
 made a remarkably free use of the Athenaeum that the 
 position of a mother was one of the most exalted, he 
 could not fail to be froisst at any want of consideration 
 for his surviving parent. As an artist, he could not 
 make up his mind to live in Boston ; but he was a 
 good son for all that. He had told her frequently 
 that they might easily live together if she would only 
 come to Paris; but of course she could not do that, 
 with Joanna and her six children round in Clarendon 
 Street, and her responsibilities to her daughter multi- 
 plied in the highest degree. Besides, during that 
 winter she spent in Paris, when Florimond was de- 
 finitely making up his mind, and they had in the 
 evening the most charming conversations, interrupted 
 only by the repeated care of winding-up the lamp, or 
 applying the bellows to the obstinate little fire 
 during that winter she had felt that Paris was not her 
 element. She had gone to the lectures at the Sor- 
 bonne, and she had visited the Louvre as few people 
 did it, catalogue in hand, taking the catalogue volume 
 by volume; but all the while she was thinking of 
 Joanna and her new baby, and how the other three 
 (that was the number then) were getting on while 
 
r.] A NEW ENGLAND WINTEK. 135 
 
 their mother was so much absorbed with the last. 
 Mrs. Daintry, familiar as she was with these anxieties, 
 had not the step of a grandmother ; for a mind that 
 was always intent had the effect of refreshing and 
 brightening her years. Responsibility with her was 
 not a weariness, but a joy at least it was the nearest 
 approach to a joy that she knew, and she did not 
 regard her life as especially cheerless ; there were 
 many others that were more denuded. She moved 
 with circumspection, but without reluctance, holding 
 up her head and looking at every one she met with a 
 clear, unaccusing gaze. This expression showed that 
 she took an interest, as she ought, in everything that 
 concerned her fellow -creatures; but there was that 
 also in her whole person which indicated that she 
 went no farther than Christian charity required. It 
 was only with regard to Joanna and that vociferous 
 houseful so fertile in problems, in opportunities for 
 devotion that she went really very far. And now 
 to-day, of course, in this matter of Florimond's visit, 
 after an absence of six years ; which was perhaps 
 more on her mind than anything had ever been. 
 People who met Mrs. Daintry after she had traversed 
 the Public Garden she always took that way and 
 begun to ascend the charming slope of Beacon Street, 
 would never, in spite of the relaxation of her pace as 
 she measured this eminence, have mistaken her for a 
 little old lady who should have crept out, vaguely and 
 timidly, to inhale one of the last mild days. It was 
 easy to see that she was not without a duty, or at 
 least a reason and indeed Mrs. Daintry had never in 
 her life been left in this predicament. People who 
 knew her ever so little would have felt that she was 
 going to call on a relation ; and if they had been to 
 
136 TALES OF THKEE CITIES. [i. 
 
 the manner born they would have added a mental 
 hope that her relation was prepared for her visit. No 
 one would have doubted this, however, who had been 
 aware that her steps were directed to the habitation 
 of Miss Lucretia Daintry. Her sister-in-law, her 
 husband's only sister, lived in that commodious nook 
 which is known as Mount Vernon Place ; and Mrs. 
 Daintry therefore turned off at Joy Street. By the 
 time she did so, she had quite settled in her mind the 
 question of Beatrice's behaviour in connection with 
 the front-door. She had decided that it would never 
 do to make a formal remonstrance, for it was plain 
 that, in spite of the Old- World training which she 
 hoped the girl might have imbibed in Nova Scotia 
 (where, until lately, she learned, there had been an 
 English garrison), she would in such a case expose 
 herself to the danger of desertion ; Beatrice would 
 not consent to stand there holding the door open for 
 nothing. And after all, in the depths of her con- 
 science Mrs. Daintry was not sure that she ought to ; 
 she was not sure that this was an act of homage that 
 one human being had a right to exact of another, 
 simply because this other happened to wear a little 
 muslin cap with pink ribbons. It was a service that 
 ministered to her importance, to her dignity, not to 
 her hunger or thirst ; and Mrs. Daintry, who had 
 had other foreign advantages besides her winter in 
 Paris, was quite aware that in the United States the 
 machinery for that former kind of tribute was very 
 undeveloped. It was a luxury that one ought not to 
 pretend to enjoy it was a luxury, indeed, that she 
 probably ought not to presume to desire. At the 
 bottom of her heart Mrs. Daintry suspected that such 
 hankerings were criminal. And yet, turning the thing 
 
IL] A NEW ENGLAND WINTER. 137 
 
 over, as she turned everything, she could not help 
 coming back to the idea that it would be very pleasant, 
 it would be really delightful, if Beatrice herself, as 
 a result of the growing refinement of her taste, her 
 transplantation to a society after all more elaborate 
 than that of Nova Scotia, should perceive the fitness, 
 the felicity, of such an attitude. This perhaps was 
 too much to hope; but it did not much matter, for 
 before she had turned into Mount Vernon Place Mrs. 
 Daintry had invented a compromise. She would 
 continue to talk to her parlour-maid until she should 
 reach the bottom of her steps, making earnestly one 
 remark after the other over her shoulder, so that 
 Beatrice would be obliged to remain on the threshold. 
 It is true that it occurred to her that the girl might 
 not attach much importance to these Parthian observa- 
 tions, and would perhaps not trouble herself to wait 
 for their natural term ; but this idea was too fraught 
 with embarrassment to be long entertained. It must 
 be added that this was scarcely a moment for Mrs. 
 Daintry to go much into the ethics of the matter, for 
 she felt that her call upon her sister-in-law was the 
 consequence of a tolerably unscrupulous determination. 
 
 II. 
 
 LUCRETIA DAINTRY was at home, for a wonder ; but 
 she kept her visitor waiting a quarter of an hour, 
 during which this lady had plenty of time to consider 
 her errand afresh. She was a little ashamed of it; 
 but she did not so much mind being put to shame by 
 Lucretia, for Lucretia did things that were much more 
 ambiguous than any she should have thought of doing. 
 
138 TALES OF THREE CITIES. [IL 
 
 It was even for this that Mrs. Daintiy had picked her 
 out, among so many relations, as the object of an 
 appeal in its nature somewhat ambiguous. Neverthe- 
 less, her heart beat a little faster than usual as she 
 sat in the quiet parlour, looking about her for the 
 thousandth time at Lucretia's " things," and observing 
 that she was faithful to her old habit of not having 
 her furnace lighted until long after every one else. 
 Miss Daintry had her own habits, and she was the 
 only person her sister-in-law knew who had more 
 reasons than herself. Her taste was of the old fashion, 
 and her drawing-room embraced neither festoons nor 
 Persian rugs, nor plates and plaques upon the wall, 
 nor faded stuffs suspended from unexpected projections. 
 Most of the articles it contained dated from the year 
 1830; and a sensible, reasonable, rectangular arrange- 
 ment of them abundantly answered to their owner's 
 conception of the decorative. A rosewood sofa against 
 the wall, surmounted by an engraving from Kaulbach ; 
 a neatly drawn carpet, faded, but little worn, and 
 sprigged with a floral figure ; a chimney-piece of black 
 marble, veined with yellow, garnished with an empire 
 clock and antiquated lamps ; half a dozen large mirrors, 
 with very narrow frames ; and an immense glazed 
 screen representing, in the livid tints of early worsted- 
 work, a ruined temple overhanging a river these were 
 some of the more obvious of Miss Daintry 's treasures. 
 Her sister-in-law was a votary of the newer school, and 
 had made sacrifices to have everything in black and 
 gilt ; but she could not fail to see that Lucretia had 
 some very good pieces. It was a wonder how she 
 made them last, for Lucretia had never been supposed 
 to know much about the keeping of a house, and no 
 one would have thought of asking her how she treated 
 
ii.] A NEW ENGLAND WINTER. 139 
 
 the marble floor of her vestibule, or what measures 
 she took in the spring with regard to her curtains. 
 Her work in life lay outside. She took an interest in 
 questions and institutions, sat on committees, and had 
 views on Female Suffrage a movement which she 
 strongly opposed. She even wrote letters sometimes 
 to the Transcript, not " chatty " and jocular, and 
 signed with a fancy name, but "over" her initials, as 
 the phrase was every one recognised them and 
 bearing on some important topic. She was not, how- 
 ever, in the faintest degree slipshod or dishevelled, like 
 some of the ladies of the newspaper and the forum ; 
 she had no ink on her fingers, and she wore her bonnet 
 as scientifically poised as the dome of the State House. 
 When you rang at her door-bell you were never kept 
 waiting, and when you entered her dwelling you were 
 not greeted with those culinary odours which, pervading 
 halls and parlours, had in certain other cases been 
 described as the right smell in the wrong place. If 
 Mrs. Daintry was made to wait some time before her 
 hostess appeared, there was nothing extraordinary in 
 this, for none of her friends came down directly, and 
 she never did herself. To come down directly would 
 have seemed to her to betray a frivolous eagerness for 
 the social act. The delay, moreover, not only gave 
 her, as I have said, opportunity to turn over her errand 
 afresh, but enabled her to say to herself, as she had 
 often said before, that though Lucretia had no taste, 
 she had some very good things, and to wonder both 
 how she had kept them so well, and how she had 
 originally got them. Mrs. Daintry knew that they 
 proceeded from her mother and her aunts, who had 
 been supposed to distribute among the children of the 
 second generation the accumulations of the old house 
 
140 TALES OF THREE CITIES. [u. 
 
 in Federal Street, where many Daintrys had been born 
 in the early part of the century. Of course she knew 
 nothing of the principles on which the distribution had 
 been made, but all she could say was that Lucretia had 
 evidently been first in the field. There was apparently 
 no limit to what had come to her. Mrs. Daintry was 
 not obliged to look, to assure herself that there was 
 another clock in the back parlour which would seem 
 to indicate that all the clocks had fallen to Lucretia. 
 She knew of four other timepieces in other parts of the 
 house, for of course in former years she had often been 
 upstairs ; it was only in comparatively recent times 
 that she had renounced that practice. There had been 
 a period when she ascended to the second story as a 
 matter of course, without asking leave. On seeing that 
 her sister-in-law was in neither of the parlours, she 
 mounted and talked with Lucretia at the door of her 
 bedroom, if it happened to be closed. And there had 
 been another season when she stood at the foot of the 
 staircase, and, lifting her voice, inquired of Miss 
 Daintry who called down with some shrillness in 
 return whether she might climb, while the maid- 
 servant, wandering away with a vague cachinnation, 
 left her to her own devices. But both of these phases 
 belonged to the past. Lucretia never came into her 
 bedroom to-day, nor did she presume to penetrate into 
 Lucretia's; so that she did not know for a long time 
 whether she had renewed her chintz nor whether she 
 had hung in that bower the large photograph of Flori- 
 mond, presented by Mrs. Daintry herself to his aunt, 
 which had been placed in neither of the parlours. 
 Mrs. Daintry would have given a good deal to know 
 whether this memento had been honoured with a 
 place in her sister-in-law's " chamber " it was by this 
 
ii.] A NEW ENGLAND WINTEK. 141 
 
 name, on each side, that these ladies designated their 
 sleeping-apartment ; but she could not bring herself to 
 ask directly, for it would be embarrassing to learn 
 what was possible that Lucretia had not paid the 
 highest respect to Florimond's portrait. The point 
 was cleared up by its being revealed to her accidentally 
 that the photograph an expensive and very artistic 
 one, taken in Paris had been relegated to the spare- 
 room, or guest-chamber. Miss Daintry was very 
 hospitable, and constantly had friends of her own sex 
 staying with her. They were very apt to be young 
 women in their twenties ; and one of them had 
 remarked to Mrs. Daintry that her son's portrait he 
 must be wonderfully handsome was the first thing 
 she saw when she woke up in the morning. Certainly 
 Florimond was handsome ; but his mother had a 
 lurking suspicion that, in spite of his beauty, his aunt 
 was not fond of him. She doubtless thought he ought 
 to come back and settle down in Boston ; he was the 
 first of the Daintry s who had had so much in common 
 with Paris. Mrs. Daintry knew as a fact that, twenty- 
 eight years before, Lucretia, whose opinions even at 
 that period were already wonderfully formed, had not 
 approved of the romantic name which, in a moment of 
 pardonable weakness, she had conferred upon her rosy 
 babe. The spinster (she had been as much of a 
 spinster at twenty as she was to-day) had accused her 
 of making a fool of the child. Every one was reading 
 old ballads in Boston then, and Mrs. Daintry had 
 found the name in a ballad. It doubled any anxiety 
 she might feel with regard to her present business to 
 think that, as certain foreign newspapers which her son 
 sent her used to say about ambassadors, Florimond was 
 perhaps not a persona grata to his aunt. She reflected, 
 
142 TALES OF THREE CITIES. [n. 
 
 however, that if his fault were in his absenting himself, 
 there was nothing that would remedy it so effectively 
 as his coming home. She reflected, too, that if she 
 and Lucretia no longer took liberties with each other, 
 there was still something a little indiscreet in her 
 purpose this morning. But it fortified and consoled 
 her for everything to remember, as she sat looking at 
 the empire clock, which was a very handsome one, that 
 her husband at least had been disinterested. 
 
 Miss Daintry found her visitor in this attitude, and 
 thought it was an expression of impatience ; which led 
 her to explain that she had been on the roof of her 
 house with a man who had come to see about repairing 
 it. She had walked all over it, and peeped over the 
 cornice, and not been in the least dizzy ; and had come 
 to the conclusion that one ought to know a great deal 
 more about one's roof than was usual. 
 
 " I am sure you have never been over yours," she 
 said to her sister-in-law. 
 
 Mrs. Daintry confessed with some embarrassment 
 that she had not, and felt, as she did so, that she was 
 superficial and slothful. It annoyed her to reflect that 
 while she supposed, in her new house, she had thought 
 of everything, she had not thought of this important 
 feature. There was no one like Lucretia for giving 
 one such reminders. 
 
 " I will send Florimond up when he comes," she 
 said ; " he will tell me all about it." 
 
 "Do you suppose he knows about roofs, except 
 tumbledown ones, in his little pictures ? I am afraid 
 it will make him giddy." This had been Miss Daintry's 
 rejoinder, and the tone of it was not altogether reassuring. 
 She was nearly fifty years old ; she had a plain, fresh, 
 delightful face, and in whatever part of the world she 
 
ii.] A NEW ENGLAND WINTER. 143 
 
 might have been met, an attentive observer of American 
 life would not have had the least difficulty in guessing 
 what phase of it she represented. She represented the 
 various and enlightened activities which cast their 
 rapid shuttle in the comings and goings of eager 
 workers from one side to the other of Boston Common. 
 She had in an eminent degree the physiognomy, the 
 accent, the costume, the conscience, and the little eye- 
 glass, of her native place. She had never sacrificed to 
 the graces, but she inspired unlimited confidence. 
 Moreover, if she was thoroughly in sympathy with the 
 New England capital, she reserved her liberty; she 
 had a great charity, but she was independent and witty ; 
 and if she was as earnest as other people, she was not 
 quite so serious. Her voice was a little masculine ; 
 and it had been said of her that she didn't care in the 
 least how she looked. This was far from true, for she 
 would not for the world have looked better than she 
 thought was right for so plain a woman. 
 
 Mrs. Daintry was fond of calculating consequences ; 
 but she was not a coward, and she arrived at her 
 business as soon as possible. 
 
 " You know that Florimond sails on the 20th of this 
 month. He will get home by the 1st of December." 
 
 " Oh yes, my dear, I know it ; everybody is talking 
 about it. I have heard it thirty times. That's where 
 Boston is so small," Lucretia Daintry remarked. 
 
 "Well, it's big enough for me," said her sister-in- 
 law. " And of course people notice his coming back ; 
 it shows that everything that has been said is false, and 
 that he really does like us." 
 
 " He likes his mother, I hope ; about the rest I 
 don't know that it matters." 
 
 " Well, it certainly will be pleasant to have him," 
 
144 TALES OF THREE CITIES. [n. 
 
 said Mrs. Daintry, who was not content with her 
 companion's tone, and wished to extract from her 
 some recognition of the importance of Florimond's 
 advent. "It will prove how unjust so much of the 
 talk has been." 
 
 "My dear woman, I don't know anything about 
 the talk. We make too much fuss about everything. 
 Florimond was an infant when I last saw him." 
 
 This was open to the interpretation that too much 
 fuss had been made about Florimond an idea that 
 accorded ill with the project that had kept Mrs. 
 Daintry waiting a quarter of an hour while her hostess 
 walked about on the roof. But Miss Daintry con- 
 tinued, and in a moment gave her sister-in-law the 
 best opportunity she could have hoped for. " I don't 
 suppose he will bring with him either salvation or the 
 other thing; and if he has decided to winter among 
 the bears, it will matter much more to him than to any 
 one else. But I shall be very glad to see him if he 
 behaves himself ; and I needn't tell you that if there 
 
 is anything I can do for him " and Miss Daintry, 
 
 tightening her lips together a little, paused, suiting her 
 action to the idea that professions were usually humbug. 
 
 " There is indeed something you can do for him," 
 her sister-in-law hastened to respond ; " or something 
 you can do for me, at least," she added, more dis- 
 creetly. 
 
 " Call it for both of you. What is it ? " and Miss 
 Daintry put on her eyeglass. 
 
 " I know you like to do kindnesses, when they are 
 real ones ; and you almost always have some one 
 staying with you for the winter." 
 
 Miss Daintry stared. " Do you want to put him to 
 live with me ? " 
 
IL] A NEW ENGLAND WINTER. 145 
 
 " No, indeed ! Do you think I could part with 
 him ? It's another person a lady ! " 
 
 " A lady ! Is he going to bring a woman with 
 him?" 
 
 " My dear Lucretia, you won't wait. I want to 
 make it as pleasant for him as possible. In that case 
 he may stay longer. He has promised three months ; 
 but I should so like to keep him till the summer. It 
 would make me very happy." 
 
 " Well, my dear, keep him, then, if you can." 
 
 " But I can't, unless I am helped." 
 
 " And you want me to help you ? Tell me what I 
 must do. Should you wish me to make love to him ? " 
 
 Mrs. Daintry's hesitation at this point was almost 
 as great as if she had found herself obliged to say yes. 
 She was well aware that what she had come to suggest 
 was very delicate ; but it seemed to her at the present 
 moment more delicate than ever. Still, her cause was 
 good, because it was the cause of maternal devotion. 
 " What I should like you to do would be to ask 
 Eachel Torrance to spend the winter with you." 
 
 Miss Daintry had not sat so much on committees 
 without getting used to queer proposals, and she had 
 long since ceased to waste time in expressing a vain 
 surprise. Her method was Socratic ; she usually en- 
 tangled her interlocutor in a net of questions. 
 
 " Ah, do you want her to make love to him ? " 
 
 "No, I don't want any love at all. In such a 
 matter as that I want Florimond to be perfectly free. 
 But Eachel is such an attractive girl ; she is so 
 artistic and so bright." 
 
 "I don't doubt it; but I can't invite all the 
 attractive girls in the country. Why don't you ask 
 her yourself ? " 
 
 L 
 
146 TALES OF THREE CITIES. [n. 
 
 " It would be too marked. And then Florimond 
 might not like her in the same house ; he would have 
 too much of her. Besides, she is no relation of mine, 
 you know ; the cousinship such as it is, it is not very 
 close is on your side. I have reason to believe she 
 would like to come ; she knows so little of Boston, and 
 admires it so much. It is astonishing how little idea 
 the New York people have. She would be different 
 from any one here, and that would make a pleasant 
 change for Florimond. She was in Europe so much 
 when she was young. She speaks French perfectly, 
 and Italian, I think, too ; and she was brought up in 
 a kind of artistic way. Her father never did any- 
 thing; but even when he hadn't bread to give his 
 children, he always arranged to have a studio, and 
 they gave musical parties. That's the way Eachel was 
 brought up. But they tell me that it hasn't in the 
 least spoiled her ; it has only made her very familiar 
 with life." 
 
 " Familiar with rubbish ! " Miss Daintry ejaculated. 
 
 " My dear Lucretia, I assure you she is a very good 
 girl, or I never would have proposed such a plan as 
 this. She paints very well herself, and tries to sell 
 her pictures. They are dreadfully poor I don't 
 mean the pictures, but Mrs. Torrance and the rest and 
 they live in Brooklyn, in some second-rate boarding- 
 house. With that, Eachel has everything about her that 
 would enable her to appreciate Boston. Of course it 
 would be a real kindness, because there would be one 
 less to pay for at the boarding-house. You haven't a 
 son, so you can't understand how a mother feels. I 
 want to prepare everything, to have everything pleas- 
 antly arranged. I want to deprive him of every 
 pretext for going away before the summer ; because in 
 
ii.] A NEW ENGLAND WINTER. 147 
 
 August I don't know whether I have told you I 
 have a kind of idea of going back with him myself. 
 I am so afraid he will miss the artistic side. I 
 don't mind saying that to you, Lucretia, for I have 
 heard you say yourself that you thought it had been 
 left out here. Florimond might go and see Eachel 
 Torrance every day if he liked ; of course, being his 
 cousin, and calling her Eachel, it couldn't attract any 
 particular attention. I shouldn't much care if it 
 did," Mrs. Daintry went on, borrowing a certain 
 bravado that in calmer moments was eminently foreign 
 to her nature from the impunity with which she had 
 hitherto proceeded. Her project, as she heard herself 
 unfold it, seemed to hang together so well that she 
 felt something of the intoxication of success. " I 
 shouldn't care if it did," she repeated, " so long as 
 Florimond had a little of the conversation that he is 
 accustomed to, and I was not in perpetual fear of his 
 starting off." 
 
 Miss Daintry had listened attentively while hsr 
 sister-in-law spoke, with eager softness, passing from 
 point to point with a crescendo of lucidity, like a woman 
 who had thought it all out and had the consciousness 
 of many reasons on her side. There had been moment- 
 ary pauses, of which Lucretia had not taken advantage, 
 so that Mrs. Daintry rested at last in the enjoyment 
 of a security that was almost complete and that her 
 companion's first question was not of a nature to dispel. 
 
 " It's so long since I have seen her. Is she pretty? " 
 Miss Daintry inquired. 
 
 " She is decidedly striking ; she has magnificent 
 hair ! " her visitor answered, almost with enthusiasm. 
 
 " Do you want Florimond to marry her ? " 
 
 This, somehow, was less pertinent. " Ah, no, my 
 
148 TALES OF THREE CITIES. [n. 
 
 dear," Mrs. Daintry rejoined, very judicially. " That 
 is not the kind of education the kind of milieu one 
 would wish for the wife of one's son." She knew, 
 moreover, that her sister-in-law knew her opinion 
 about the marriage of young people. It was a sacra- 
 ment more high and holy than any words could express, 
 the propriety and timeliness of which lay deep in the 
 hearts of the contracting parties, below all interference 
 from parents and friends ; it was an inspiration from 
 above, and she would no more have thought of laying 
 a train to marry her son than she would have thought 
 of breaking open his letters. More relevant even than 
 this, however, was the fact that she did not believe he 
 would wish to make a wife of a girl from a slipshod 
 family in Brooklyn, however little he might care to 
 lose sight of the artistic side. It will be observed that 
 she gave Florimond the credit of being a very discrimi- 
 nating young man ; and she indeed discriminated for 
 him in cases in which she would not have presumed 
 to discriminate for herself. 
 
 " My dear Susan, you are simply the most immoral 
 woman in Boston ! " These were the words of which, 
 after a moment, her sister-in-law delivered herself. 
 
 Mrs. Daintry turned a little pale. "Don't you 
 think it would be right ? " she asked quickly. 
 
 "To sacrifice the poor girl to Florimond's amuse- 
 ment ? What has she done that you should wish to 
 play her such a trick ? " Miss Daintry did not look 
 shocked : she never looked shocked, for even when 
 she was annoyed she was never frightened ; but after 
 a moment she broke into a loud, uncompromising 
 laugh a laugh which her sister-in-law knew of 
 old and regarded as a peculiarly dangerous form of 
 criticism. 
 
IT.] A NEW ENGLAND WINTER. 149 
 
 " I don't see why she should be sacrificed. She 
 would have a lovely time if she were to come on. 
 She would consider it the greatest kindness to be 
 asked." 
 
 " To be asked to come and amuse Florimond." 
 
 Mrs. Daintry hesitated a moment. " I don't see 
 why she should object to that. Florimond is certainly 
 not beneath a person's notice. Why, Lucretia, you 
 speak as if there were something disagreeable about 
 Florimond." 
 
 " My dear Susan," said Miss Daintry, " I am will- 
 ing to believe that he is the first young man of his 
 time ; but, all the same, it isn't a thing to do." 
 
 " Well, I have thought of it in every possible way, 
 and I haven't seen any harm in it. It isn't as if she 
 were giving up anything to come." 
 
 " You have thought of it too much, perhaps. Stop 
 thinking for a while. I should have imagined you 
 were more scrupulous." 
 
 Mrs. Daintry was silent a moment ; she took her 
 sister-in-law's asperity very meekly, for she felt that 
 if she had been wrong in what she proposed she de- 
 served a severe judgment. But why was she wrong ? 
 She clasped her hands in her lap and rested her eyes 
 with extreme seriousness upon Lucretia's little pince- 
 nez, inviting her to judge her, and too much interested 
 in having the question of her culpability settled to 
 care whether or no she were hurt. " It is very hard 
 to know what is right," she said presently. " Of 
 course it is only a plan ; I wondered how it would 
 strike you." 
 
 " You had better leave Florimond alone," Miss 
 Daintry answered. "I don't see why you should 
 spread so many carpets for him. Let him shift for 
 
150 TALES OF THREE CITIES. [n. 
 
 himself. If he doesn't like Boston, Boston can spare 
 him." 
 
 "You are not nice about him; no, you are not, 
 Lucretia ! " Mrs. Daintry cried, with a slight tremor 
 in her voice. 
 
 "Of course I am not as nice as you he is not 
 my son ; but I am trying to be nice about Eachel 
 Torrance." 
 
 " I am sure she would like him she would de- 
 light in him ! " Mrs. Daintry broke out. 
 
 " That's just what I'm afraid of ; I couldn't stand 
 that." 
 
 " Well, Lucretia, I am not convinced," Mrs. Dain- 
 try said, rising, with perceptible coldness. " It is very 
 hard to be sure one is not unjust. Of course I shall 
 not expect you to send for her ; but I shall think of 
 her with a good deal of compassion, all winter, in 
 that dingy place in Brooklyn. And if you have some 
 one else with you and I am sure you will, because 
 you always do, unless you remain alone on purpose 
 this year, to put me in the wrong if you have some 
 one else I shall keep saying to myself: 'Well, after 
 all, it might have been Eachel ! ' ' 
 
 Miss Daintry gave another of her loud laughs at 
 the idea that she might remain alone " on purpose." 
 " I shall have a visitor, but it will be some one who 
 will not amuse Florimond in the least. If he wants 
 to go away, it won't be for anything in this house 
 that he will stay." 
 
 "I really don't see why you should hate him," 
 said poor Mrs. Daintry. 
 
 " Where do you find that ? On the contrary, I 
 appreciate him very highly. That's just why I think 
 it very possible that a girl like Eachel Torrance 
 
ii.] A NEW ENGLAND WINTER. 151 
 
 an odd, uninstructed girl, who hasn't had great ad- 
 vantages may fall in love with him and break her 
 heart." 
 
 Mrs. Daintry's clear eyes expanded, " Is that 
 what you are afraid of ? " 
 
 " Do you suppose my solicitude is for Florimond ? 
 An accident of that sort if she were to show him 
 her heels at the end might perhaps do him good. 
 But I am thinking of the girl, since you say you 
 don't want him to marry her." 
 
 " It was not for that that I suggested what I did. 
 I don't want him to marry any one I have no plans 
 for that," Mrs. Daintry said, as if she were resenting 
 an imputation. 
 
 " Kachel Torrance least of all ! " And Miss Daintry 
 indulged still again in that hilarity, so personal to 
 herself, which sometimes made the subject look so little 
 jocular to others. " My dear Susan, I don't blame you," 
 she said ; " for I suppose mothers are necessarily un- 
 scrupulous. But that is why the rest of us should 
 hold them in check." 
 
 " It's merely an assumption, that she would fall in 
 love with him," Mrs. Daintry continued, with a certain 
 majesty ; " there is nothing to prove it, and I am not 
 bound to take it for granted." 
 
 " In other words, you don't care if she should ! 
 Precisely; that, I suppose, is your role. I am glad 
 I haven't any children ; it is very sophisticating. For 
 so good a woman, you are very bad. Yes, you are 
 good, Susan ; and you are bad." 
 
 " I don't know that I pretend to be particularly 
 good," Susan remarked, with the warmth of one who 
 had known something of the burden of such a reputa- 
 tion, as she moved toward the door. 
 
152 TALES OF THREE CITIES. [HI. 
 
 " You have a conscience, and it will wake up," her 
 companion returned. " It will come over you in the 
 watches of the night that your idea was as I have 
 said immoral." 
 
 Mrs. Daintry paused in the hall, and stood there 
 looking at Lucretia. It was just possible that she was 
 being laughed at, for Lucretia's deepest mirth was 
 sometimes silent that is, one heard the laughter 
 several days later. Suddenly she coloured to the 
 roots of her hair, as if the conviction of her error had 
 come over her. Was it possible she had been cor- 
 rupted by an affection in itself so pure ? "I only 
 want to do right," she said softly. " I would rather 
 he should never come home than that I should go too 
 far." 
 
 She was turning away, but her sister-in-law held 
 her a moment and kissed her. " You are a delightful 
 woman, but I won't ask Eachel Torrance ! " This was 
 the understanding on which they separated. 
 
 Miss DAINTRY, after her visitor had left her, recognised 
 that she had been a little brutal ; for Susan's proposi- 
 tion did not really strike her as so heinous. Her 
 eagerness to protect the poor girl in Brooklyn was not 
 a very positive quantity, inasmuch as she had an im- 
 pression that this young lady was on the whole very 
 well able to take care of herself. What her talk with 
 Mrs. Daintry had really expressed was the lukewarm- 
 ness of her sentiment with regard to Florimond. She 
 had no wish to help his mother lay carpets for him, 
 as she said. Eightly or wrongly, she had a conviction 
 
in.] A NEW ENGLAND WINTER. 153 
 
 that he was selfish, that he was spoiled, that he was 
 conceited; and she thought Lucretia Daintry meant 
 for better things than the service of sugaring for t"he 
 young man's lips the pill of a long -deferred visit to 
 Boston. It was quite indifferent to her that he 
 should be conscious, in that city, of unsatisfied needs. 
 At bottom, she had never forgiven him for having 
 sought another way of salvation. Moreover, she had a 
 strong sense of humour, and it amused her more than 
 a little that her sister-in-law of all women in Boston 
 should have come to her on that particular errand. 
 It completed the irony of the situation that one 
 should frighten Mrs. Daintry just a little about 
 what she had undertaken ; and more than once that 
 day Lucretia had, with a smile, the vision of Susan's 
 countenance as she remarked to her that she was 
 immoral. In reality, and speaking seriously, she did 
 not consider Mrs. Daintry's inspiration unpardonable ; 
 what was very positive was simply that she had no 
 wish to invite Eachel Torrance for the benefit of her 
 nephew. She was by no means sure that she should 
 like the girl for her own sake, and it was still less 
 apparent that she should like her for that of Flori- 
 mond. With all this, however, Miss Daintry had a 
 high love of justice ; she revised her social accounts 
 from time to time to see that she had not cheated 
 any one. She thought over her interview with Mrs. 
 Daintry the next day, and it occurred to her that she 
 had been a little unfair. But she scarcely knew what 
 to do to repair her mistake, by which Eachel Tor- 
 rance also had suffered, perhaps; for after all, if it 
 had not been wicked of her sister-in-law to ask such 
 a favour, it had at least been cool ; and the penance 
 that presented itself to Lucretia Daintry did not take 
 
154 TALES OF THREE CITIES. [in. 
 
 the form of despatching a letter to Brooklyn. An 
 accident came to her help, and four days after the 
 conversation I have narrated she wrote her a note 
 which explains itself and which I will presently tran- 
 scribe. Meanwhile Mrs. Daintry, on her side, had 
 held an examination of her heart ; and though she 
 did not think she had been very civilly treated, the 
 result of her reflections w^as to give her a fit of remorse. 
 Lucretia was right : she had been anything but scrupu- 
 lous ; she had skirted the edge of an abyss. Questions 
 of conduct had long been familiar to her; and the 
 cardinal rule of life in her eyes was, that before one 
 did anything which involved in any degree the happi- 
 ness or the interest of another, one should take one's 
 motives out of the closet in which they are usually 
 laid away and give them a thorough airing. This 
 operation, undertaken before her visit to Lucretia, had 
 been cursory and superficial ; for now that she repeated 
 it, she discovered among the recesses of her spirit a 
 number of nut-like scruples which she was astonished 
 to think she should have overlooked. She had really 
 been very wicked, and there was no doubt about her 
 proper penance. It consisted of a letter to her sister- 
 in-law, in which she completely disavowed her little 
 project, attributing it to momentary intermission of 
 her reason. She saw it would never do, and she was 
 quite ashamed of herself. She did not exactly thank 
 Miss Daintry for the manner in which she had ad- 
 monished her, but she spoke as one saved from a 
 great danger, and assured her relative of Mount Ver- 
 non Place that she should not soon again expose 
 herself. This letter crossed with Miss Daintry's 
 missive, which ran as follows : 
 
in.] A NEW ENGLAND WINTER. 155 
 
 "MY DEAR SUSAN I have been thinking over 
 our conversation of last Tuesday, and I am afraid 
 I went rather too far in my condemnation of your 
 idea with regard to Eachel Torrance. If I expressed 
 myself in a manner to wound your feelings, I can 
 assure you of my great regret. Nothing could have 
 been further from my thoughts than the belief that 
 you are wanting in delicacy. I know very well that 
 you were prompted by the highest sense of duty. It 
 is possible, however, I think, that your sense of duty 
 to poor Florimond is a little too high. You think of 
 him too much as that famous dragon of antiquity 
 wasn't it in Crete, or somewhere ? to whom young 
 virgins had to be sacrificed. It may relieve your 
 mind, however, to hear that this particular virgin 
 will probably, during the coming winter, be provided 
 for. Yesterday, at Doll's, where I had gone in to 
 look at the new pictures (there is a striking Appleton 
 Brown), I met Pauline Mesh, whom I had not seen 
 for ages, and had half an hour's talk with her. She 
 seems to me to have come out very much this winter, 
 and to have altogether a higher tone. In short, she 
 is much enlarged, and seems to want to take an in- 
 terest in something. Of course you will say : Has she 
 not her children ? But, somehow, they don't seem to 
 fill her life. You must remember that they are very 
 small as yet to fill anything. Anyway, she men- 
 tioned to me her great disappointment in having had 
 to give up her sister, who was to have come on from 
 Baltimore to spend the greater part of the winter. 
 Rosalie is very pretty, and Pauline expected to give 
 a lot of Germans, and make things generally pleasant. 
 I shouldn't wonder if she thought something might 
 happen that would make Eosalie a fixture in our 
 
156 TALES OF THREE CITIES. [in. 
 
 city. She would have liked this immensely ^ for, 
 whatever Pauline's faults may be, she has plenty of 
 family feeling. But her sister has suddenly got en- 
 gaged in Baltimore (I believe it's much easier than 
 here), so that the visit has fallen through. Pauline 
 seemed to be quite in despair, for she had made all 
 sorts of beautifications in one of her rooms, on purpose 
 for Rosalie ; and not only had she wasted her labour 
 (you know how she goes into those things, whatever 
 we may think, sometimes, of her taste), but she spoke 
 as if it would make a great difference in her winter ; 
 said she should suffer a great deal from loneliness. 
 She says Boston is no place for a married woman, 
 standing on her own merits ; she can't have any sort of 
 time unless she hitches herself to some attractive girl 
 who will help her to pull the social car. You know 
 that isn't what every one says, and how much talk there 
 has been the last two or three winters about the frisky 
 young matrons. Well, however that may be, I don't 
 pretend to know much about it, not being in the 
 married set. Pauline spoke as if she were really quite 
 high and dry, and I felt so sorry for her that it sud- 
 denly occurred to me to say something about Rachel 
 Torrance. I remembered that she is related to Donald 
 Mesh in about the same degree as she is to me a 
 degree nearer, therefore, than to Florimond. Pauline 
 didn't seem to think much of the relationship it's so 
 remote ; but when I told her that Rachel (strange as 
 it might appear) would probably be thankful for a 
 season in Boston, and might be a good substitute for 
 Rosalie, why she quite jumped at the idea. She has 
 never seen her, but she knows who she is fortunately, 
 for I could never begin to explain. She seems to 
 think such a girl will be quite a novelty in this 
 
in.] A NEW ENGLAND WINTER. 157 
 
 place. I don't suppose Pauline can do her any par- 
 ticular harm, from what you tell me of Miss Torrance ; 
 and, on the other hand, I don't know that she could 
 injure Pauline. She is certainly very kind (Pauline, 
 of course), and I have no doubt she will immediately 
 write to Brooklyn, and that Eachel will come on. 
 Florimond won't, of course, see as much of her as if 
 she were staying with me, and I don't know that he 
 will particularly care about Pauline Mesh, who, you 
 know, is intensely American ; but they will go out a 
 great deal, and he will meet them (if he takes the 
 trouble), and I have no doubt that Kachel will take 
 the edge off the east wind for him. At any rate I 
 have perhaps done her a good turn. I must confess 
 to you and it won't surprise you that I was 
 thinking of her, and not of him, when I spoke to 
 Pauline. Therefore I don't feel that I have taken a 
 risk, but I don't much care if I have. I have my 
 views, but I never worry. I recommend you not to 
 do so either for you go, I know, from one extreme 
 to the other. I have told you my little story ; it 
 was on my mind. Aren't you glad to see the lovely 
 snow ? Ever affectionately yours, L. D. 
 
 " P.S. The more I think of it, the more convinced 
 I am that you will worry now about the danger for 
 Eachel. Why did I drop the poison into your mind ? 
 Of course I didn't say a word about you or Florimond." 
 
 This epistle reached Mrs. Daintry, as I have inti- 
 mated, about an hour after her letter to her sister- 
 in-law had been posted ; but it is characteristic of her 
 that she did not for a moment regret having made a 
 retractation rather humble in form, and which proved 
 
158 TALES OF THREE CITIES. [iv. 
 
 after all, scarcely to have been needed. The delight 
 of having done that duty carried her over the sense of 
 having given herself away. Her sister-in-law spoke 
 from knowledge when she wrote that phrase about 
 Susan's now beginning to worry from the opposite point 
 of view. Her conscience, like the good Homer, might 
 sometimes nod; but when it woke, it woke with a 
 start ; and for many a day afterward its vigilance was 
 feverish. For the moment her emotions were mingled. 
 She thought Lucretia very strange, and that she was 
 scarcely in a position to talk about one's going from 
 one extreme to the other. It was good news to her 
 that Eachel Torrance would probably be on the ground 
 after all, and she was delighted that on Lucretia the 
 responsibility of such a fact should rest. This re- 
 sponsibility, even after her revulsion, as we know, she 
 regarded as grave; she exhaled an almost voluptuous 
 sigh when she thought of having herself escaped from 
 it. What she did not quite understand was Lucretia's 
 apology, and her having, even if Florimond's happiness 
 were not her motive, taken almost the very step which 
 three days before she had so severely criticised. This 
 was puzzling, for Lucretia was usually so consistent. 
 But all the same Mrs. Daintry did not repent of her 
 own penance ; on the contrary, she took more and 
 more comfort in it. If, with that, Rachel Torrance 
 should be really useful, it would be delightful. 
 
 IV. 
 
 FLORIMOND DAINTRY had stayed at home for three days 
 after his arrival ; he had sat close to the fire, in his 
 slippers, every now and then casting a glance over his 
 
rv. ] A NEW ENGLAND WINTER. 159 
 
 shoulders at the hard white world which seemed to 
 glare at him from the other side of the window-panes. 
 He was very much afraid of the cold, and he was not 
 in a hurry to go out and meet it. He had met it, on 
 disembarking in New York, in the shape of a wave of 
 frozen air, which had travelled from some remote point 
 in the West (he was told), on purpose, apparently, to 
 smite him in the face. That portion of his organism 
 tingled yet with it, though the gasping, bewildered look 
 which sat upon his features during the first few hours 
 had quite left it. I am afraid it will be thought he 
 was a young man of small courage ; and on a point so 
 delicate I do not hold myself obliged to pronounce. 
 It is only fair to add that it was delightful to him to 
 be with his mother and that they easily spent three 
 days in talking. Moreover he had the company of 
 Joanna and her children, who, after a little delay, 
 occasioned apparently by their waiting to see whether 
 he would not first come to them, had arrived in a body 
 and had spent several hours. As regards the majority 
 of them, they had repeated this visit several times in 
 the three days, Joanna being obliged to remain at home 
 with the two younger ones. There were four older 
 ones, and their grandmother's house was open to them 
 as a second nursery. The first day, their Uncle 
 Florimond thought them charming; and, as he had 
 brought a French toy for each, it is probable that this 
 impression was mutual. The second day, their little 
 ruddy bodies and woollen clothes seemed to him to have 
 a positive odour of the cold it was disagreeable to 
 him, and he spoke to his mother about their " wintry 
 smell." The third day they had become very familiar ; 
 they called him " Florry ; " and he had made up his 
 mind that, to let them loose in that way on his mother, 
 
160 TALES OF THREE CITIES. [iv. 
 
 Joanna must be rather wanting in delicacy not men- 
 tioning this deficiency, however, as yet, for he saw that 
 his mother was not prepared for it. She evidently 
 thought it proper, or at least it seemed inevitable, that 
 either she should be round at Joanna's or the children 
 should be round in Newbury Street ; for " Joanna's " 
 evidently represented primarily the sound of small, 
 loud voices, and the hard breathing that signalised the 
 intervals of romps. Florimond was rather disappointed 
 in his sister, seeing her after a long separation ; he 
 remarked to his mother that she seemed completely 
 submerged. As Mrs. Daintry spent most of her time 
 under the waves with her daughter, she had grown to 
 regard this element as sufficiently favourable to life, 
 and was rather surprised when Florimond said to her 
 that he was sorry to see she and his sister appeared to 
 have been converted into a pair of bonnes d'enfants. 
 Afterward, however, she perceived what he meant ; 
 she was not aware, until he called her attention to it, 
 that the little Merrimans took up an enormous place 
 in the intellectual economy of two households. " You 
 ought to remember that they exist for you, and not 
 you for them," Florimond said to her in a tone of 
 friendly admonition; and he remarked on another 
 occasion that the perpetual presence of children was 
 a great injury to conversation it kept it down so 
 much ; and that in Boston they seemed to be present 
 even when they were absent, inasmuch as most of 
 the talk was about them. Mrs. Daintry did not stop 
 to ask herself what her son knew of Boston, leaving 
 it years before, as a boy, and not having so much as 
 looked out of the window since his return ; she was 
 taken up mainly with noting certain little habits of 
 speech which he evidently had formed, and in won- 
 
IV.] A NEW ENGLAND WINTER. 161 
 
 dering how they would strike his fellow-citizens. He 
 was very definite and trenchant; he evidently knew 
 perfectly what he thought; and though his manner 
 was not defiant he had, perhaps, even too many of 
 the forms of politeness, as if sometimes, for mysterious 
 reasons, he were playing upon you the tone in which 
 he uttered his opinions did not appear exactly to give 
 you the choice. And then apparently he had a great 
 many ; there was a moment when Mrs. Daintry vaguely 
 foresaw that the little house in Newbury Street would 
 be more crowded with Florimond's views than it had 
 ever been with Joanna's children. She hoped very 
 much people would like him, and she hardly could 
 see why they should fail to find him agreeable. To 
 herself he was sweeter than any grandchild ; he was 
 as kind as if he had been a devoted parent. Florimond 
 had but a small acquaintance with his brother-in-law ; 
 but after he had been at home forty-eight hours he 
 found that he bore Arthur Merriman a grudge, and 
 was ready to think rather ill of him having a theory 
 that he ought to have held up Joanna and interposed 
 to save her mother. Arthur Merriman was a young 
 and brilliant commission-merchant, who had not married 
 Joanna Daintry for the sake of Florimond, and, doing 
 an active business all day in East Boston, had a 
 perfectly good conscience in leaving his children's 
 mother and grandmother to establish their terms of 
 intercourse. 
 
 Florimond, however, did not particularly wonder 
 why his brother-in-law had not been round to bid him 
 welcome. It was for Mrs. Daintry that this anxiety 
 was reserved; and what made it worse was her 
 uncertainty as to whether she should be justified in 
 mentioning the subject to Joanna. It might wound 
 
 M 
 
162 TALES OF THEEE CITIES. [iv. 
 
 Joanna to suggest to her that her husband was 
 derelict especially if she did not think so, and she 
 certainly gave her mother no opening; and on the 
 other hand Florimond might have ground for complaint 
 if Arthur should continue not to notice him. Mrs. 
 Daintry earnestly desired that nothing of this sort 
 should happen, and took refuge in the hope that 
 Florimond would have adopted the foreign theory of 
 visiting, in accordance with which the newcomer was 
 to present himself first. Meanwhile the young man, 
 who had looked upon a meeting with his brother-in- 
 law as a necessity rather than a privilege, was simply 
 conscious of a reprieve; and up in Clarendon Street, 
 as Mrs. Daintry said, it never occurred to Arthur 
 Merriman to take this social step, nor to his wife to 
 propose it to him. Mrs. Merriman simply took for 
 granted that her brother would be round early some 
 morning to see the children. A day or two later the 
 couple dined at her mother's, and that virtually settled 
 the question. It is true that Mrs. Daintry, in later 
 days, occasionally recalled the fact that, after all, 
 Joanna's husband never had called upon Florimond ; 
 and she even wondered why Florimond, who sometimes 
 said bitter things, had not made more of it. The 
 matter came back at moments when, under the press- 
 ure of circumstances which, it must be confessed, were 
 rare, she found herself giving assent to an axiom that 
 sometimes reached her ears. This axiom, it must be 
 added, did not justify her in the particular case I have 
 mentioned, for the full purport of it was that the 
 queerness of Bostonians was collective, not individual. 
 There was no doubt, however, that it was Flori- 
 mond's place to call first upon his aunt, and this was 
 a duty of which she could not hesitate to remind him. 
 
IV] A NEW ENGLAND WINTER. 163 
 
 By the time he took his way across the long expanse 
 of the new land and up the charming hill which con- 
 stitutes, as it were, the speaking face of Boston, the 
 temperature either had relaxed, or he had got used, 
 even in his mother's hot little house, to his native air. 
 He breathed the bright cold sunshine with pleasure ; 
 he raised his eyes to the arching blueness, and thought 
 he had never seen a dome so magnificently painted. 
 He turned his head this way and that, as he walked 
 (now that he had recovered his legs, he foresaw 
 that he should walk a good deal), and freely indulged 
 his most valued organ, the organ that had won him 
 such reputation as he already enjoyed. In the little 
 artistic circle in which he moved in Paris, Florimond 
 Daintry was thought to have a great deal of eye. His 
 power of rendering was questioned, his execution had 
 been called pretentious and feeble ; but a conviction 
 had somehow been diffused that he saw things with 
 extraordinary intensity. No one could tell better than 
 he what to paint, and what not to paint, even though 
 his interpretation were sometimes rather too sketchy. 
 It will have been guessed that he was an impression- 
 ist ; and it must be admitted that this was the 
 character in which he proceeded on his visit to Miss 
 Daintry. He was constantly shutting one eye, to see 
 the better with the other, making a little telescope by 
 curving one of his hands together, waving these 
 members in the air with vague pictorial gestures, 
 pointing at things which, when people turned to 
 follow his direction, seemed to mock the vulgar vision 
 by eluding it. I do not mean that he practised these 
 devices as he walked along Beacon Street, into which 
 he had crossed shortly after leaving his mother's house ; 
 but now that he had broken the ice he acted quite in 
 
164 TALES OF THREE CITIES. [i\r. 
 
 the spirit of the reply he had made to a friend in 
 Paris, shortly before his departure, who asked him why 
 he was going back to America " I am going to see 
 how it looks." He was of course very conscious of 
 his eye ; and his effort to cultivate it was both intui- 
 tive and deliberate. He spoke of it freely, as he 
 might have done of a valuable watch or a horse. He 
 was always trying to get the visual impression ; asking 
 himself, with regard to such and such an object or a 
 place, of what its " character " would consist. There 
 is no doubt he really saw with great intensity ; and 
 the reader will probably feel that he was welcome to 
 this ambiguous privilege. It was not important for 
 him that things should be beautiful ; what he sought 
 to discover was their identity the signs by which he 
 should know them. He began this inquiry as soon as 
 he stepped into Newbury Street from his mother's 
 door, and he was destined to continue it for the first 
 few weeks of his stay in Boston. As time went on, 
 his attention relaxed ; for one couldn't do more than 
 see, as he said to his mother and another person ; and 
 he had seen. Then the novelty wore off the novelty 
 which is often so absurdly great in the eyes of the 
 American who returns to his native land after a few 
 years spent in the foreign element an effect to be 
 accounted for only on the supposition that in the secret 
 parts of his mind he recognises the aspect of life in 
 Europe as, through long heredity, the more familiar ; 
 so that superficially, having no interest to oppose it, it 
 quickly supplants the domestic type, which, upon his 
 return, becomes supreme, but with its credit in many 
 cases appreciably and permanently diminished. Flori- 
 mond painted a few things while he was in America, 
 though he had told his mother he had come home to 
 
iv.] A NEW ENGLAND WINTER. 165 
 
 rest; but when, several months later, in Paris, he 
 showed his " notes," as he called them, to a friend, the 
 young Frenchman asked him if Massachusetts were 
 really so much like Andalusia. 
 
 There was certainly nothing Andalusian in the 
 prospect as Florimond traversed the artificial bosom of 
 the Back Bay. He had made his way promptly into 
 Beacon Street, and he greatly admired that vista. The 
 long straight avenue lay airing its newness in the 
 frosty day, and all its individual facades, with their 
 neat, sharp ornaments, seemed to have been scoured, 
 with a kind of friction, by the hard, salutary light. 
 Their brilliant browns and drabs, their rosy surfaces of 
 brick, made a variety of fresh, violent tones, such as 
 Florimond liked to memorise, and the large clear 
 windows of their curved fronts faced each other, across 
 the street, like candid, inevitable eyes. There was 
 something almost terrible in the windows ; Florimond 
 had forgotten how vast and clean they were, and how, 
 in their sculptured frames, the New England air 
 seemed, like a zealous housewife, to polish and preserve 
 them. A great many ladies were looking out, and 
 groups of children, in the drawing-rooms, were flat- 
 tening their noses against the transparent plate. Here 
 and there, behind it, the back of a statuette or the 
 symmetry of a painted vase, erect on a pedestal, pre- 
 sented itself to the street, and enabled the passer to 
 construct, more or less, the room within its frescoed 
 ceilings, its new silk sofas, its untarnished fixtures. 
 This continuity of glass constituted a kind of exposure, 
 within and without, and gave the street the appearance 
 of an enormous corridor, in which the public and the 
 private were familiar and intermingled. But it was 
 all very cheerful and commodious, and seemed to speak 
 
166 TALES OF THREE CITIES. [v. 
 
 of diffused wealth, of intimate family life, of comfort 
 constantly renewed. All sorts of things in the region 
 of the temperature had happened during the few days 
 that Florimond had been in the country. The cold 
 wave had spent itself, a snowstorm had come and gone, 
 and the air, after this temporary relaxation, had 
 renewed its keenness. The snow, which had fallen in 
 but moderate abundance, was heaped along the side of 
 the pavement; it formed a radiant cornice on the 
 housetops and crowned the windows with a plain white 
 cap. It deepened the colour of everything else, made 
 all surfaces look ruddy, and at a distance sent into the 
 air a thin, delicate mist a vaporous blur which 
 occasionally softened an edge. The upper part of 
 Beacon Street seemed to Florimond charming the 
 long, wide, sunny slope, the uneven line of the older 
 houses, the contrasted, differing, bulging fronts, the 
 painted bricks, the tidy facings, the immaculate doors, 
 the burnished silver plates, the denuded twigs of the 
 far extent of the Common, on the other side ; and to 
 crown the eminence and complete the picture, high in 
 the air, poised in the right place, over everything that 
 clustered below, the most felicitous object in Boston 
 the gilded dome of the State House. It was in the 
 shadow of this monument, as we know, that Miss 
 Daintry lived ; and Florimond, who was always lucky, 
 had the good fortune to find her at home. 
 
 V. 
 
 IT may seem that I have assumed on the part of the 
 reader too great a curiosity about the impressions of 
 this young man, who was not very remarkable, and 
 
v.] A NEW ENGLAND WINTER. 
 
 who has not even the recommendation of being the 
 hero of our perhaps too descriptive tale. The reader 
 will already have discovered that a hero fails us here ; 
 but if I go on at all risks to say a few words about 
 Florimond, he will perhaps understand the better why 
 this part has not been filled. Miss Daintry's nephew 
 was not very original ; it was his own illusion that he 
 had in a considerable degree the value of rareness. 
 Even this youthful conceit was not rare, for it was not 
 of heroic proportions, and was liable to lapses and 
 discouragements. He was a fair, slim, civil young 
 man, and you would never have guessed from his 
 appearance that he was an impressionist. He was 
 neat and sleek and quite anti-Bohemian, and in spite 
 of his looking about him as he walked, his figure was 
 much more in harmony with the Boston landscape 
 than he supposed. He was a little vain, a little 
 affected, a little pretentious, a little good-looking, a 
 little amusing, a little spoiled, and at times a little 
 tiresome. If he was disagreeable, however, it was also 
 only a little ; he did not carry anything to a very high 
 pitch; he was accomplished, industrious, successful 
 all in the minor degree. He was fond of his mother 
 and fond of himself; he also liked the people who 
 liked him. Such people could belong only to the class 
 of good listeners, for Florimond, with the least en- 
 couragement (he was very susceptible to that), would 
 chatter by the hour. As he was very observant, and 
 knew a great many stories, his talk was often enter- 
 taining, especially to women, many of whom thought 
 him wonderfully sympathetic. It may be added that 
 he was still very young and fluid, and neither his 
 defects nor his virtues had a great consistency. He 
 was fond of the society of women, and had an idea that 
 
168 TALES OF THREE CITIES. [v. 
 
 he knew a great deal about that element of humanity. 
 He believed himself to know everything about art, 
 and almost everything about life, and he expressed 
 himself as much as possible in the phrases that are 
 current in studios. He spoke French very well, and 
 it had rubbed off on his English. 
 
 His aunt listened to him attentively, with her 
 nippers on her nose. She had been a little restless at 
 first, and, to relieve herself, had vaguely punched the 
 sofa-cushion which lay beside her a gesture that her 
 friends always recognised ; they knew it to express a 
 particular emotion. Florimond, whose egotism, was 
 candid and confiding, talked for an hour about himself 
 about what he had done, and what he intended to 
 do, what he had said and what had been said to him ; 
 about his habits, tastes, achievements, peculiarities, 
 which were apparently so numerous ; about the decora- 
 tions of his studio in Paris; about the character of 
 the French, the works of Zola, the theory of art for 
 art, the American type, the " stupidity " of his mother's 
 new house though of course it had some things that 
 were knowing the pronunciation of Joanna's children, 
 the effect of the commission-business on Arthur Merri- 
 man's conversation, the effect of everything on his 
 mother, Mrs. Daintry, and the effect of Mrs. Daintry 
 on her son Florimond. The young man had an epithet 
 which he constantly introduced to express disapproval ; 
 when he spoke of the architecture of his mother's 
 house, over which she had taken great pains (she 
 remembered the gabled fronts of Nuremberg), he said 
 that a certain effect had been dreadfully missed, that 
 the character of the doorway was simply "crass." 
 He expressed, however, a lively sense of the bright 
 cleanness of American interiors. "Oh, as for that," 
 
V.'J A NEW ENGLAND WINTER. 169 
 
 he said, "the place is kept it's kept;" and, to give 
 an image of this idea, he put his gathered fingers to 
 his lips an instant, seemed to kiss them or blow upon 
 them, and then opened them into the air. Miss 
 Daintry had never encountered this gesture before; 
 she had heard it described by travelled persons ; but 
 to see her own nephew in the very act of it led her to 
 administer another thump to the sofa -cushion. She 
 finally got this article under control, and sat more 
 quiet, with her hands clasped upon it, while her 
 visitor continued to discourse. In pursuance of his 
 character as an impressionist, he gave her a great 
 many impressions ; but it seemed to her that as he 
 talked, he simply exposed himself exposed his egot- 
 ism, his little pretensions. Lucretia Daintry, as we 
 know, had a love of justice, and though her opinions 
 were apt to be very positive, her charity was great 
 and her judgments were not harsh ; moreover, there 
 was in her composition not a drop of acrimony. 
 Nevertheless, she was, as the phrase is, rather hard on 
 poor little Florimond ; and to explain her severity we 
 are bound to assume that in the past he had in some 
 way offended her. To-day, at any rate, it seemed to 
 her that he patronised his maiden-aunt. He scarcely 
 asked about her health, but took for granted on her 
 part an unlimited interest in his own sensations. It 
 came over her afresh that his mother had been absurd 
 in thinking that the usual resources of Boston would 
 not have sufficed to maintain him ; and she smiled a 
 little grimly at the idea that a special provision should 
 have been made. This idea presently melted into 
 another, over which she was free to regale herself only 
 after her nephew had departed. For the moment she 
 contented herself with saying to him, when a pause in 
 
170 TALES OF THREE CITIES. [v. 
 
 his young eloquence gave her a chance "You will 
 have a great many people to go and see. You pay 
 the penalty of being a Bostonian ; you have several 
 hundred cousins. One pays for everything." 
 
 Morimond lifted his eyebrows. "I pay for that 
 every day of my life. Have I got to go and see them 
 all?" 
 
 " All every one," said his aunt, who in reality did 
 not hold this obligation in the least sacred. 
 
 "And to say something agreeable to them all?" 
 the young man went on. 
 
 "Oh no, that is not necessary," Miss Daintry 
 rejoined, with more exactness. " There are one or two, 
 however, who always appreciate a pretty speech." 
 She added in an instant, "Do you remember Mrs. 
 Mesh?" 
 
 "Mrs. Mesh?" Florimond apparently did not re- 
 member. 
 
 "The wife of Donald Mesh; your grandfathers 
 were first cousins. I don't mean her grandfather, but 
 her husband's. If you don't remember her, I suppose 
 he married her after you went away." 
 
 " I remember Donald ; but I never knew he was a 
 relation. He was single then, I think." 
 
 " Well, he's double now," said Miss Daintry ; " he's 
 triple, I may say, for there are two ladies in the house." 
 
 " If you mean he's a polygamist are there Mor- 
 mons even here ? " Florimond, leaning back in his 
 chair, with his elbow on the arm, and twisting with 
 his gloved fingers the point of a small fair moustache, 
 did not appear to have been arrested by this account 
 of Mr. Mesh's household ; for he almost immediately 
 asked, in a large, detached way " Are there any nice 
 women here ? " 
 
v.] A NEW ENGLAND WINTER. 171 
 
 " It depends on what you mean by nice women : 
 there are some very sharp ones." 
 
 " Oh, I don't like sharp ones," Florimond remarked, 
 in a tone which made his aunt long to throw her 
 sofa-cushion at his head. " Are there any pretty 
 ones ? " 
 
 She looked at him a moment, hesitating. " Eachel 
 Torrance is pretty, in a strange, unusual way black 
 hair and blue eyes, a serpentine figure, old coins in 
 her tresses ; that sort of thing." 
 
 " I have seen a good deal of that sort of thing," 
 said Florimond, abstractedly. 
 
 " That I know nothing about. I mention Pauline 
 Mesh's as one of the houses that you ought to go to, 
 and where I know you are expected." 
 
 " I remember now that my mother has said some- 
 thing about that. But who is the woman with coins 
 in her hair? what has she to do with Pauline 
 Mesh?" 
 
 " Eachel is staying with her ; she came from New 
 York a week ago, and I believe she means to spend 
 the winter. She isn't a woman, she's a girl." 
 
 " My mother didn't speak of her," said Florimond ; 
 " but I don't think she would recommend me a girl 
 with a serpentine figure." 
 
 "Very likely not," Miss Daintry answered, dryly. 
 "Eachel Torrance is a far-away cousin of Donald 
 Mesh, and consequently of mine and of yours. She's 
 an artist, like yourself; she paints flowers on little 
 panels and plaques! 9 
 
 "Like myself? I never painted a plaque id my 
 life ! " exclaimed Florimond, staring. 
 
 " Well, she's a model also ; you can paint her if 
 you like; she has often been painted, I believe." 
 
172 TALES OF THREE CITIES. [v. 
 
 Florimond had begun to caress the other tip of his 
 moustache. "I don't care for women who have been 
 painted before. I like to find them out. Besides, I 
 want to rest this winter." 
 
 His aunt was disappointed ; she wished to put him 
 into relation with Rachel Torrance, and his indiffer- 
 ence was an obstacle. The meeting was sure to take 
 place sooner or later, but she would have him glad to 
 precipitate it, and, above all, to quicken her nephew's 
 susceptibilities. " Take care you are not found out your- 
 self!" she exclaimed, tossing away her sofa-cushion 
 and getting up. 
 
 Florimond did not see what she meant, and he 
 accordingly bore her no rancour ; but when, before he 
 took his leave, he said to her, rather irrelevantly, that 
 if he should find himself in the mood during his stay 
 in Boston, he should like to do her portrait she had 
 such a delightful face she almost thought the speech 
 a deliberate impertinence. "Do you mean that you 
 have discovered me that no one has suspected it 
 before ? " she inquired with a laugh, and a little flush 
 in the countenance that he was so good as to ap- 
 preciate. 
 
 Florimond replied, with perfect coolness and good- 
 nature, that he didn't know about this, but that he 
 was sure no one had seen her in just the way he saw 
 her ; and he waved his hand in the air with strange 
 circular motions, as if to evoke before him the image 
 of a canvas, with a figure just rubbed in. He repeated 
 this gesture, or something very like it, by way of 
 farewell, when he quitted his aunt, and she thought 
 him insufferably patronising. 
 
 This is why she wished him, without loss of time, 
 to make the acquaintance of Eachel Torrance, whose 
 
v.] A NEW ENGLAND WINTER. 173 
 
 treatment of his pretensions she thought would be 
 salutary. It may now be communicated to the reader 
 after a delay proportionate to the momentousness of 
 the fact that this had been the idea which suddenly 
 flowered in her brain, as she sat face to face with her 
 irritating young visitor. It had vaguely shaped itself 
 after her meeting with that strange girl from Brooklyn, 
 whom Mrs. Mesh, all gratitude for she liked strange- 
 ness promptly brought to see her; and her present 
 impression of her nephew rapidly completed it. She 
 had not expected to take an interest in Eachel Torrance, 
 and could not see why, through a freak of Susan's, 
 she should have been called upon to think so much 
 about her; but, to her surprise, she perceived that 
 Mrs. Daintry's proposed victim was not the usual 
 forward girl. She perceived at the same time that it 
 had been ridiculous to think of Eachel as a victim 
 to suppose that she was in danger of vainly fixing her 
 affections upon Florimond. She was much more 
 likely to triumph than to suffer ; and if her visit to 
 Boston were to produce bitter fruits, it would not 
 be she who should taste them. She had a striking, 
 
 o> 
 
 oriental head, a beautiful smile, a manner of dressing 
 which carried out her exotic type, and a great deal of 
 experience and wit. She evidently knew the world, 
 as one knows it when one has to live by its help. If 
 she had an aim in life, she would draw her bow well 
 above the tender breast of Florimond Daintry. With 
 all this, she certainly was an honest, obliging girl, 
 and had a sense of humour which was a fortunate 
 obstacle to her falling into a pose. Her coins and 
 amulets and seamless garments were, for her, a part 
 of the general joke of one's looking like a Circassian 
 or a Smyrniote an accident for which nature was 
 
174 TALES OF THEEE CITIES. [v. 
 
 responsible ; and it may be said of her that she took 
 herself much less seriously than other people took her. 
 This was a defect for which Lucretia Daintry had a 
 great kindness ; especially as she quickly saw that 
 Eachel was not of an insipid paste, as even triumph- 
 ant coquettes sometimes are. In spite of her poverty 
 and the opportunities her beauty must have brought 
 her, she had not yet seen fit to marry which was a 
 proof that she was clever as well as disinterested. It 
 looks dreadfully cold-blooded as I write it here, but 
 the notion that this capable creature might administer 
 poetic justice to Florimond gave a measurable satis- 
 faction to Miss Daintry. He was in distinct need of 
 a snub, for down in Newbury Street his mother was 
 perpetually swinging the censer ; and no young nature 
 could stand that sort of thing least of all such a 
 nature as Florimond's. She said to herself that such 
 a " putting in his place " as he might receive from 
 Eachel Torrance would probably be a permanent 
 correction. She wished his good, as she wished the 
 good of every one ; and that desire was at the bottom 
 of her vision. She knew perfectly what she should 
 like : she should like him to fall in love with Eachel, 
 as he probably would, and to have no doubt of her 
 feeling immensely honoured. She should like Eachel 
 to encourage him just enough just so far as she 
 might, without being false. A little would do, for 
 Florimond would always take his success for granted. 
 To this point did the study of her nephew's moral 
 regeneration bring the excellent woman who a few 
 days before had accused his mother of a lack of 
 morality. His mother was thinking only of his 
 pleasure ; she was thinking of his immortal spirit. 
 She should like Eachel to tell him at the end that he 
 
vi.] A NEW ENGLAND WINTER. 175 
 
 was a presumptuous little boy, and that since it was 
 his business to render " impressions/' he might see 
 what he could do with that of having been jilted. 
 This extraordinary flight of fancy on Miss Daintry's 
 part was caused in some degree by the high spirits 
 which sprang from her conviction, after she met the 
 young lady, that Mrs. Mesh's companion was not in 
 danger ; for even when she wrote to her sister-in-law 
 in the manner the reader knows, her conscience was 
 not wholly at rest. There was still a risk, and she 
 knew not why she should take risks for Florimond. 
 Now, however, she was prepared to be perfectly happy 
 when she should hear that the young man was con- 
 stantly in Arlington Street ; and at the end of a little 
 month she enjoyed this felicity. 
 
 VI. 
 
 MRS. MESH sat on one side of the fire, and Florimond 
 on the other ; he had by this time acquired the privi- 
 lege of a customary seat. He had taken a general 
 view of Boston. It was like a first introduction, for 
 before his going to live in Paris he had been too young 
 to judge ; and the result of this survey was the con- 
 viction that there was nothing better than Mrs. Mesh's 
 drawing-room. She was one of the few persons whom 
 one was certain to find at home after five o'clock ; and 
 the place itself was agreeable to Florimond, who was 
 very fastidious about furniture and decorations. He 
 was willing to concede that Mrs. Mesh (the relation- 
 ship had not yet seemed close enough to justify him 
 in calling her Pauline) knew a great deal about such 
 matters ; though it was clear that she was indebted 
 
176 TALES 01? THREE CITIES. [vi. 
 
 for some of her illumination to Kachel Torrance, who 
 had induced her to make several changes. These two 
 ladies, between them, represented a great fund of taste ; 
 with a difference that was a result of Eachel's know- 
 ing clearly beforehand what she liked (Florimond called 
 her, at least, by her baptismal name), and Mrs. Mesh's 
 only knowing it after a succession of experiments, of 
 transposings and drapings, all more or less ingenious 
 and expensive. If Florimond liked Mrs. Mesh's draw- 
 ing-room better than any other corner of Boston, he 
 also had his preference in regard to its phases and 
 hours. It was most charming in the winter twilight, 
 by the glow of the fire, before the lamps had been 
 brought in. The ruddy flicker played over many 
 objects, making them look more mysterious than Flori- 
 mond had supposed anything could look in Boston, 
 and, among others, upon Eachel Torrance, who, when 
 she moved about the room in a desultory way (never 
 so much enfoncde, as Florimond said, in a chair as Mrs. 
 Mesh was) certainly attracted and detained the eye. 
 The young man from his corner (he was almost as 
 much enfoncd as Mrs. Mesh) used to watch her ; and 
 he could easily see what his aunt had meant by saying 
 she had a serpentine figure. She was slim and flexible, 
 she took attitudes which would have been awkward in 
 other women, but which her charming pliancy made 
 natural. She reminded him of a celebrated actress in 
 Paris who was the ideal of tortuous thinness. Miss 
 Torrance used often to seat herself for a short time at 
 the piano ; and though she never had been taught this 
 art (she played only by ear), her musical feeling was 
 such that she charmed the twilight hour. Mrs. Mesh 
 sat on one side of the fire, as I have said, and Flori- 
 mond on the other; the two might have been found in 
 
vi.] A NEW ENGLAND WINTER. 1*7 7 
 
 this relation listening, face to face almost any clay 
 in the week. Mrs. Mesh raved about her new friend, 
 as they said in Boston I mean about Rachel Tor- 
 ranee, not about Florimond Daintry. She had at last 
 got hold of a mind that understood her own (Mrs. 
 Mesh's mind contained depths of mystery), and she 
 sacrificed herself, generally, to throw her companion 
 into relief. Her sacrifice was rewarded, for the girl 
 was universally liked and admired; she was a new 
 type altogether; she was the lioness of the winter. 
 Florimond had an opportunity to see his native town 
 in one of its fits of enthusiasm. He had heard of 
 the infatuations of Boston, literary and social ; of its 
 capacity for giving itself with intensity to a temporary 
 topic ; and he was now conscious, on all sides, of the 
 breath of New England discussion. Some one had 
 said to him or had said to some one, who repeated it 
 that there was no place like Boston for taking up 
 with such seriousness a second-rate spinster from 
 Brooklyn. But Florimond himself made no criticism; 
 for, as we know, he speedily fell under the charm of 
 Eachel Torrance's personality. He was perpetually 
 talking with Mrs. Mesh about it ; and when Mrs. 
 Mesh herself descanted on the subject, he listened with 
 the utmost attention. At first, on his return, he rather 
 feared the want of topics ; he foresaw that he should 
 miss the talk of the studios, of the theatres, of the 
 boulevard, of a little circle of " naturalists " (in litera- 
 ture and art) to which he belonged, without sharing 
 all its views. But he presently perceived that Boston, 
 too, had its actualities, and that it even had this in 
 common with Paris that it gave its attention most 
 willingly to a female celebrity. If he had had any 
 hope of being himself the lion of the winter, it had 
 
178 TALES OF THREE CITIES. [vi. 
 
 been dissipated by the spectacle of Ms cousin's success. 
 He saw that while she was there he could only be 
 a subject of secondary reference. He bore her no 
 grudge for this. I must hasten to declare that from 
 the pettiness of this particular jealousy poor Florimond 
 was quite exempt. Moreover, he was swept along by 
 the general chorus; and he perceived that when one 
 changes one's sky, one inevitably changes, more or 
 less, one's standard. Eachel Torrance was neither 
 an actress, nor a singer, nor a beauty, nor one of the 
 ladies who were chronicled in the Figaro, nor the 
 author of a successful book, nor a person of the great 
 world ; she had neither a future, nor a past, nor a posi- 
 tion, nor even a husband, to make her identity more 
 solid ; she was a simple American girl, of the class 
 that lived in pensions (a class of which Florimond had 
 ever entertained a theoretic horror) ; and yet she had 
 profited to the degree of which our young man was 
 witness, by those treasures of sympathy constantly in 
 reserve in the American public (as has already been 
 intimated) for the youthful-feminine. If Florimond 
 was struck with all this, it may be imagined whether 
 or not his mother thought she had been clever when 
 it occurred to her (before any one else) that Eachel 
 would be a resource for the term of hibernation. She 
 had forgotten all her scruples and hesitations ; she 
 only knew she had seen very far. She was proud of 
 her prescience, she was even amused with it ; and for 
 the moment she held her head rather high. No one 
 knew of it but Lucre tia for she had never confided 
 it to Joanna, of whom she would have been more afraid 
 in such a connection even than of her sister-in-law; 
 but Mr. and Mrs. Merriman perceived ,an unusual 
 lightness in her step, a fitful sparkle in her eye. It 
 
vi.] A NEW ENGLAND WINTEK. 179 
 
 was of course easy for them to make up their mind 
 that she was exhilarated to this degree by the presence 
 of her son ; especially as he seemed to "be getting on 
 beautifully in Boston. 
 
 " She stays out longer every day ; she is scarcely 
 ever home to tea/' Mrs. Mesh remarked, looking up at 
 the clock on the chimney-piece. 
 
 Florimond could not fail to know to whom she 
 alluded, for it has been intimated that between these 
 two there was much conversation about Rachel Tor- 
 ranee. " It's funny, the way the girls run about 
 alone here," he said, in the amused, contemplative 
 tone in which he frequently expressed himself on the 
 subject of American life. " Eachel stays out after 
 dark, and no one thinks any the worse of her." 
 
 " Oh, well, she's old enough," Mrs. Mesh rejoined, 
 with a little sigh, which seemed to suggest that 
 Eachel's age was really affecting. Her eyes had been 
 opened by Florimond to many of the peculiarities of 
 the society that surrounded her ; and though she had 
 spent only as many months in Europe as her visitor 
 had spent years, she now sometimes spoke as if she 
 thought the manners of Boston more odd even than 
 he could pretend to do. She was very quick at 
 picking up an idea, and there was nothing she desired 
 more than to have the last on every subject. This 
 winter, from her two new friends, Florimond and 
 Eachel, she had extracted a great many that were 
 new to her ; the only trouble was that, coming from 
 different sources, they sometimes contradicted each 
 other. Many of them, however, were very vivifying ; 
 they added a new zest to that prospect of life which 
 had always, in winter, the denuded bushes, the solid 
 pond, the plank-covered walks, the exaggerated bridge, 
 
180 TALES OF THREE CITIES. [vi. 
 
 the patriotic statues, the dry, hard texture, of the 
 Public Garden for its foreground, and for its middle 
 distance the pale, frozen twigs, stiff in the windy sky 
 that whistled over the Common, the domestic dome of 
 the State House, familiar in the untinted air, and the 
 competitive spires of a liberal faith. Mrs. Mesh had 
 an active imagination, and plenty of time on her 
 hands. Her two children were young, and they slept 
 a good deal; she had explained to Florimond, who 
 observed that she was a great deal less in the nursery 
 than his sister, that she pretended only to give her 
 attention to their waking hours. " I have people for 
 the rest of the time," she said; and the rest of the 
 time was considerable ; so that there were very few 
 obstacles to her cultivation of ideas. There was one 
 in her mind now, and I may as well impart it to the 
 reader without delay. She was not quite so delighted 
 with Eachel Torrance as she had been a month ago ; 
 it seemed to her that the young lady took up socially 
 speaking too much room in the house; and she 
 wondered how long she intended to remain, and 
 whether it would be possible, without a direct request, 
 to induce her to take her way back to Brooklyn. 
 This last was the conception with which she was at 
 present engaged ; she was at moments much pressed 
 by it, and she had thoughts of taking Florimond 
 Daintry into her confidence. This, however, she 
 determined not to do, lest he should regard it as a 
 sign that she was jealous of her companion. I know 
 not whether she was, but this I know that Mrs. 
 Mesh was a woman of a high ideal and would not for 
 the world have appeared so. If she was jealous, this 
 would imply that she thought Florimond was in love 
 with Eachel; and she could only object to that on 
 
vi.] A NEW ENGLAND WINTER. 181 
 
 the ground of being in love with him herself. She 
 was not in love with him, and had no intention of 
 being; of this the reader, possibly alarmed, may 
 definitely rest assured. Moreover, she did not think 
 him in love with Eachel ; as to her reason for this 
 reserve, I need not, perhaps, be absolutely outspoken. 
 She was not jealous, she would have said; she was 
 only oppressed she was a little over-ridden. Eachel 
 pervaded her house, pervaded her life, pervaded Bos- 
 ton ; every one thought it necessary to talk to her 
 about Eachel, to rave about her in the Boston manner, 
 which seemed to Mrs. Mesh, in spite of the Puritan 
 tradition, very much more unbridled than that of 
 Baltimore. They thought it would give her pleasure ; 
 but by this time she knew everything about Eachel. 
 The girl had proved rather more of a figure than she 
 expected ; and though she could not be called preten- 
 tious, she had the air, in staying with Pauline Mesh, 
 of conferring rather more of a favour than she received. 
 This was absurd for a person who was, after all, 
 though not in her first youth, only a girl, and who, as 
 Mrs. Mesh was sure from her biography for Eachel 
 had related every item had never before had such 
 unrestricted access to the fleshpots. The fleshpots 
 were full, under Donald Mesh's roof, and his wife 
 could easily believe that the poor girl would not be in 
 a hurry to return to her boarding-house in Brooklyn. 
 For that matter there were lots of people in Boston 
 who would be delighted that she should come to them. 
 It was doubtless an inconsistency on Mrs. Mesh's part 
 that if she was overdone with the praises of Eachel 
 Torrance which fell from every lip, she should not 
 herself have forborne to broach the topic. But I 
 have sufficiently intimated that it had a perverse 
 
182 TALES OF THREE CITIES. [vi. 
 
 fascination for her ; it is true she did not speak of 
 Eachel only to praise her. Florimond, in truth, was 
 a little weary of the young lady's name; he had 
 plenty of topics of his own, and he had his own 
 opinion about Eachel Torrance. He did not take up 
 Mrs. Mesh's remark as to her being old enough. 
 
 "You must wait till she comes in. Please ring 
 for tea," said Mrs. Mesh, after a pause. She had 
 noticed that Florimond was comparing his watch with 
 her clock ; it occurred to her that he might be going. 
 
 " Oh, I always wait, you know ; I like to see her 
 when she has been anywhere. She tells one all about 
 it, and describes everything so well." 
 
 Mrs. Mesh looked at him a moment. " She sees 
 a great deal more in things than I am usually able to 
 discover. She sees the most extraordinary things in 
 Boston." 
 
 " Well, so do I," said Florimond, placidly. 
 
 "Well, I don't, I must say!" She asked him to 
 ring again ; and then, with a slight irritation, accused 
 him of not ringing hard enough ; but before he could 
 repeat the operation she left her chair and went 
 herself to the bell. After this she stood before the 
 fire a moment, gazing into it ; then suggested to 
 Florimond that he should put on a log. 
 
 " Is it necessary when your servant is coming 
 in a moment ? " the young man asked, unexpectedly, 
 without moving. In an instant, however, he rose ; 
 and then he explained that this was only his little 
 joke. 
 
 " Servants are too stupid," said Mrs. Mesh. " But 
 I spoil you. What would your mother say ? " She 
 watched him while he placed the log. She was 
 plump, and she was not tall; but she was a very 
 
vi.] A NEW ENGLAND WINTER. 183 
 
 pretty woman. She had round brown eyes, which 
 looked as if she had been crying a little she had 
 nothing in life to cry about; and dark, wavy hair, 
 which here and there, in short, crisp tendrils, escaped 
 artfully from the form in which it was dressed. When 
 she smiled, she showed very pretty teeth; and the 
 combination of her touching eyes and her parted lips 
 was at such moments almost bewitching. She was 
 accustomed to express herself in humorous super- 
 latives, in pictorial circumlocutions ; and had acquired 
 in Boston the rudiments of a social dialect which, to 
 be heard in perfection, should be heard on the lips of 
 a native. Mrs. Mesh had picked it up ; but it must 
 be confessed that she used it without originality. It 
 was an accident that on this occasion she had not 
 expressed her wish for her tea by saying that she 
 should like a pint or two of that Chinese fluid. 
 
 " My mother believes I can't be spoiled," said 
 Florimond, giving a little push with his toe to the 
 stick that he had placed in the embers ; after which 
 he sank back into his chair, while Mrs. Mesh resumed 
 possession of her own. " I am ever fresh ever pure." 
 
 "You are ever conceited. I don't see what you 
 find so extraordinary in Boston," Mrs. Mesh added, 
 reverting to his remark of a moment before. 
 
 " Oh, everything ! the ways of the people, their 
 ideas, their peculiar cachet. The very expression of 
 their faces amuses me." 
 
 " Most of them have no expression at all." 
 
 " Oh, you are used to it," Florimond said. " You 
 have become one of themselves ; you have ceased to 
 notice." 
 
 " I am more of a stranger than you ; I was born 
 beneath other skies. Is it possible that you don't 
 
184 TALES OF THREE CITIES. [vi. 
 
 know yet that I am a native of Baltimore ? ' Mary- 
 land, my Maryland ! ' ' 
 
 " Have they got so much expression in Maryland ? 
 No, I thank you; no tea. Is it possible," Florimond 
 went on, with the familiarity of pretended irritation, 
 " is it possible that you haven't noticed yet that I never 
 take it ? Boisson fade, tcwumnte, as Balzac calls it." 
 
 "Ah, well, if you don't take it on account of 
 Balzac ! " said Mrs. Mesh. " I never saw a man who 
 had such fantastic reasons. Where, by the way, is 
 the volume of that depraved old author you promised 
 to bring me ? " 
 
 " When do you think he flourished ? You call 
 everything old, in this country, that isn't in the 
 morning paper. I haven't brought you the volume, 
 because I don't want to bring you presents," Florimond 
 said ; "I want you to love me for myself, as they say 
 in Paris." 
 
 " Don't quote what they say in Paris ! Don't 
 profane this innocent bower with those fearful words ! " 
 Mrs. Mesh rejoined, with a jocose intention. " Dear 
 lady, your son is not everything we could wish ! " she 
 added in the same mock-dramatic tone, as the curtain 
 of the door was lifted, and Mrs. Daintry rather timidly 
 advanced. Mrs. Daintry had come to satisfy a curiosity, 
 after all quite legitimate ; she could no longer resist 
 the impulse to ascertain for herself, so far as she might, 
 how Eachel Torrance and Florimond were getting on. 
 She had had no definite expectation of finding Flori- 
 mond at Mrs. Mesh's ; but she supposed that at this 
 hour of the afternoon it was already dark, and the 
 ice, in many parts of Beacon Street, had a polish which 
 gleamed through the dusk she should find Eachel. 
 " Your son has lived too long in far-off lands ; he has 
 
A/L] A NEW ENGLAND WINTER. 185 
 
 dwelt among outworn things," Mrs. Mesh went on, as 
 she conducted her visitor to a chair. " Dear lady, you 
 are not as Balzac was ; do you start at the mention of 
 his name ? therefore you will have some tea in a little 
 painted cup." 
 
 Mrs. Daintry was not bewildered, though it may 
 occur to the reader that she might have been; she 
 was only a little disappointed. She had hoped she 
 might have occasion to talk about Florimond ; but the 
 young man's presence was a denial of this privilege. 
 " I am afraid Eachel is not at home," she remarked. 
 " I am afraid she will think I have not been very 
 attentive." 
 
 " She will be in in a moment ; we are waiting for 
 her," Florimond said. " It's impossible she should 
 think any harm of you. I have told her too much 
 good." 
 
 " Ah, Mrs. Daintry, don't build too much on what 
 he has told her ! He's a false and faithless man ! " 
 Pauline Mesh interposed ; while the good lady from 
 Newbury Street, smiling at this adjuration, but looking 
 a little grave, turned from one of her companions to 
 the other. Florimond had relapsed into his chair by 
 the fireplace; he sat contemplating the embers, and 
 fingering the tip of his moustache. Mrs. Daintry 
 imbibed her tea, and told how often she had slipped 
 coming down the hill. These expedients helped her 
 to wear a quiet face ; but in reality she was nervous, 
 and she felt rather foolish. It came over her that she 
 was rather dishonest; she had presented herself at 
 Mrs. Mesh's in the capacity of a spy. The reader 
 already knows she was subject to sudden revulsions 
 of feeling. There is an adage about repenting at 
 leisure ; but Mrs. Daintry always repented in a hurry. 
 
186 TALES OF THREE CITIES. [vi. 
 
 There was something in the air something impal- 
 pable, magnetic that told her she had better not 
 have come ; and even while she conversed with Mrs. 
 Mesh she wondered what this mystic element could 
 be. Of course she had been greatly preoccupied, these 
 last weeks ; for it had seemed to her that her plan 
 with regard to Eachel Torrance was succeeding only 
 too well. Florimond had frankly accepted her in the 
 spirit in which she had been offered, and it was very 
 plain that she was helping him to pass his winter. 
 He was constantly at the house Mrs. Daintry could 
 not tell exactly how often ; but she knew very well 
 that in Boston, if one saw anything of a person, one 
 saw a good deal. At first he used to speak of it ; for 
 two or three weeks he had talked a good deal about 
 Eachel Torrance. More lately, his allusions had 
 become few; yet to the best of Mrs. Daintry's belief 
 his step was often in Arlington Street. This aroused 
 her suspicions, and at times it troubled her conscience ; 
 there were moments when she wondered whether, in 
 arranging a genial winter for Florimond, she had also 
 prepared a season of torment for herself. Was he in 
 love with the girl, or had he already discovered that 
 the girl was in love with him ? The delicacy of either 
 situation would account for his silence. Mrs. Daintry 
 said to herself that it would be a grim joke if she 
 should prove to have plotted only too well. It was 
 her sister-in-law's warning in especial that haunted her 
 imagination, and she scarcely knew, at times, whether 
 more to hope that Florimond might have been smitten, 
 or to pray that Rachel might remain indifferent. It 
 was impossible for Mrs. Daintry to shake off the sense 
 of responsibility ; she could not shut her eyes to the 
 fact that she had been the prime mover. It was all 
 
vi.] A NEW ENGLAND WINTER. 187 
 
 very well to say that the situation, as it stood, was of 
 Lucretia's making ; the thing never would have come 
 into Lucretia's head if she had not laid it before her. 
 Unfortunately, with the quiet life she led, she had 
 very little chance to observe ; she went out so little, 
 that she was reduced to guessing what the manner of 
 the two young persons might be to each other when 
 they met in society, and she should have thought 
 herself wanting in delicacy if she had sought to be 
 intimate with Eachel Torrance. 'Now that her plan 
 was in operation, she could make no attempt to foster 
 it, to acknowledge it in the face of Heaven. Fortu- 
 nately, Eachel had so many attentions, that there was 
 no fear of her missing those of Newbury Street. She 
 had dined there once, in the first days of her sojourn, 
 without Pauline and Donald, who had declined, and 
 with Joanna and Joanna's husband for all "company." 
 Mrs. Daintry had noticed nothing particular then, save 
 that Arthur Merriman talked rather more than usual 
 though he was always a free talker and had 
 bantered Eachel rather more familiarly than was 
 perhaps necessary (considering that he, after all, was 
 not her cousin) on her ignorance of Boston, and her 
 thinking that Pauline Mesh could tell her anything 
 about it. On this occasion Florimond talked very 
 little ; of course he could not say much when Arthur 
 was in such extraordinary spirits. She knew by this 
 time all that Florimond thought of his brother-in-law, 
 and she herself had to confess that she liked Arthur 
 better in his jaded hours, even though then he was a 
 little cynical. Mrs. Daintry had been perhaps a little 
 disappointed in Eachel, whom she saw for the first 
 time in several years. The girl was less peculiar than 
 she remembered her being, savoured less of the old 
 
188 TALES OF THREE CITIES. [vi. 
 
 studio, the musical parties, the creditors waiting at the 
 door. However, people in Boston found her unusual, 
 and Mrs. Daintry reflected, with a twinge at her de- 
 pravity, that perhaps she had expected something too 
 dishevelled. At any rate, several weeks had elapsed 
 since then, and there had been plenty of time for Miss 
 Torrance to attach herself to Florimond. It was less 
 than ever Mrs. Daintry's wish that he should (even in 
 this case) ask her to be his wife. It seemed to her 
 less than ever the way her son should marry because 
 he had got entangled with a girl in consequence of 
 his mother's rashness. It occurred to her, of course, 
 that she might warn the young man ; but when it 
 came to the point she could not bring herself to speak. 
 She had never discussed the question of love with him, 
 and she didn't know what ideas he might have brought 
 with him from Paris. It was too delicate ; it might 
 put notions into his head. He might say something 
 strange and French, which she shouldn't like ; and 
 then perhaps she should feel bound to warn Eachel 
 herself a complication from which she absolutely 
 shrank. It was part of her embarrassment now, as 
 she sat in Mrs. Mesh's drawing-room, that she should 
 probably spoil Florimond's entertainment for this 
 afternoon, and that such a crossing of his inclination 
 would make him the more dangerous. He had told 
 her that he was waiting for Eachel to come in ; and 
 at the same time, in view of the lateness of the hour 
 and her being on foot, when she herself should take 
 her leave he would be bound in decency to accompany 
 her. As for remaining after Eachel should come in, 
 that was an indiscretion which scarcely seemed to her 
 possible. Mrs. Daintry was an American mother, and 
 she knew what the elder generation owes to the 
 
vi.] A NEW ENGLAND WINTER. 189 
 
 younger. If Morimond had come there to call on a 
 young lady, he didn't, as they used to say, want any 
 mothers round. She glanced covertly at her son, to 
 try and find some comfort in his countenance ; for her 
 perplexity was heavy. But she was struck only with 
 his looking very handsome, as he lounged there in 
 the firelight, and with his heing very much at home. 
 This did not lighten her burden, and she expressed all 
 the weight of it in the midst of Mrs. Mesh's flights 
 of comparison in an irrelevant little sigh. At such 
 a time her only comfort could "be the thought that at 
 all events she had not betrayed herself to Lucretia. 
 She had scarcely exchanged a word with Lucretia about 
 Eachel since that young lady's arrival ; and she had 
 observed in silence that Miss Daintry now had a guest 
 in the person of a young woman who had lately opened 
 a kindergarten. This reticence might surely pass for 
 natural. 
 
 Rachel came in before long, but even then Mrs. 
 Daintry ventured to stay a little. The visitor from 
 Brooklyn embraced Mrs. Mesh, who told her that, 
 prodigal as she was, there was no fatted calf for her 
 return ; she must content herself with cold tea. No- 
 thing could be more charming than her manner, which 
 was full of native archness ; and it seemed to Mrs. 
 Daintry that she directed her pleasantries at Flori- 
 mond with a grace that was intended to be irresistible. 
 The relation between them was a relation of " chaff, " 
 and consisted, on one side and the other, in alternations 
 of attack and defence. Mrs. Daintry reflected that 
 she should not wish her son to have a wife who 
 should be perpetually turning him into a joke; for 
 it seemed to her, perhaps, that Eachel Torrance put 
 in her thrusts rather faster than Elorimond could 
 
190 TALES OF THREE CITIES. [vi. 
 
 parry them. She was evidently rather wanting in 
 the faculty of reverence, and Florimond panted a 
 little. They presently went into an adjoining room, 
 where the lamplight was brighter; Eachel wished to 
 show the young man an old painted fan, which she 
 had brought back from the repairer's. They re- 
 mained there ten minutes. Mrs. Daintry, as she sat 
 with Mrs. Mesh, heard their voices much intermingled. 
 She wished very much to confide herself a little to 
 Pauline to ask her whether she thought Eachel 
 was in love with Florimond. But she had a fore- 
 boding that this would not be safe; Pauline was 
 capable of repeating her question to the others, of 
 calling out to Eachel to come back and answer it. 
 She contented herself, therefore, with asking her 
 hostess about the little Meshes, and regaling her 
 with anecdotes of Joanna's progeny. 
 
 " Don't you ever have your little ones with you at 
 this hour ? " she inquired. " You know this is what 
 Longfellow calls the children's hour." 
 
 Mrs. Mesh hesitated a moment. " Well, you know, 
 one can't have everything at once. I have my social 
 duties now ; I have my guests. I have Miss Torrance 
 you see she is not a person one can overlook." 
 
 " I suppose not," said poor Mrs. Daintry, remem- 
 bering how little she herself had overlooked her. 
 
 " Have you done brandishing that superannuated 
 relic ? " Mrs. Mesh asked of Eachel and Florimond, 
 as they returned to the fireside. " I should as soon 
 think of fanning myself with the fire-shovel ! " 
 
 "He has broken my heart," Eachel said. "He 
 tells me it is not a Watteau." 
 
 " Do you believe everything he tells you, my dear ? 
 His word is the word of the betrayer." 
 
vi.] A NEW ENGLAND WINTER. 191 
 
 " Well, I know Watteau didn't paint fans," Flori- 
 mond remarked, " any more than Michael Angelo." 
 
 " I suppose you think he painted ceilings/' said 
 Eachel Torrance. " I have painted a great many 
 myself." 
 
 " A great many ceilings ? I should like to see 
 that ! " Florimond exclaimed. 
 
 Eachel Torrance, with her usual promptness, 
 adopted this fantasy. " Yes, I have decorated half the 
 churches in Brooklyn ; you know how many there 
 are." 
 
 " If you mean fans, I wish men carried them," the 
 young man went on ; "I should like to have one de 
 wire fagon" 
 
 " You're cool enough as you are ; I should be sorry 
 to give you anything that would make you cooler ! " 
 
 This retort, which may not strike the reader by its 
 originality, was pregnant enough for Mrs. Daintry ; it 
 seemed to her to denote that the situation was criti- 
 cal; and she proposed to retire. Florimond walked 
 home with her ; but it was only as they reached their 
 door that she ventured to say to him what had been 
 on her tongue's end since they left Arlington Street. 
 
 " Florimond, I want to ask you something. I 
 think it is important, and you mustn't be surprised. 
 Are you in love with Eachel Torrance ? " 
 
 Florimond stared, in the light of the street-lamp. 
 The collar of his overcoat was turned up ; he stamped 
 a little as he stood still ; the breath of the February 
 evening pervaded the empty vistas of the " new land." 
 " In love with Eachel Torrance ? Jamais de la vie ! 
 What put that into your head ? " 
 
 " Seeing you with her, that way, this evening. 
 You know you are very attentive." 
 
192 TALES OF THREE CITIES. [vi. 
 
 " How do you mean, attentive ? " 
 
 "You go there very often. Isn't it almost every 
 day?" 
 
 Florimond hesitated, and, in spite of the frigid 
 dusk, his mother could see that there was irritation 
 in his eye. " Where else can I go, in this precious 
 place ? It's the pleasantest house here." 
 
 "Yes, I suppose it's very pleasant," Mrs. Daintry 
 murmured. "But I would rather have you return 
 to Paris than go there too often," she added, with 
 sudden energy. 
 
 " How do you mean, too often ? Qu'est-ce qui wus 
 prend, ma mdre ? " said Florimond. 
 
 " Is Eachel Eachel in love with you ? " she in- 
 quired solemnly. She felt that this question, though 
 her heart beat as she uttered it, should not be 
 mitigated by a circumlocution. 
 
 " Good heavens ! mother, fancy talking about love 
 in this temperature!" Florimond exclaimed. "Let 
 one at least get into the house." 
 
 Mrs. Daintry followed him reluctantly ; for she 
 always had a feeling that if anything disagreeable 
 were to be done one should not make it less drastic 
 by selecting agreeable conditions. In the drawing- 
 room, before the fire, she returned to her inquiry. 
 "My son, you have not answered me about Eachel." 
 
 " Is she in love with me ? Why, very possibly ! " 
 
 " Are you serious, Florimond ? " 
 
 " Why shouldn't I be ? I have seen the way 
 women go off." 
 
 Mrs. Daintry was silent a moment. " Florimond, 
 is it true ? " she said presently. 
 
 "Is what true? I don't see where you want to 
 come out." 
 
vi.] A NEW ENGLAND WINTER. 193 
 
 "Is it true that that girl has fixed her affec- 
 tions " and Mrs. Daintry' s voice dropped. 
 
 " Upon me, ma mkre ? I don't say it's true, but 
 I say it's possible. You ask me, and I can only 
 answer you. I am not swaggering, I am simply 
 giving you decent satisfaction. You wouldn't have 
 me think it impossible that a woman should fall in 
 love with me ? You know what women are, and 
 how there is nothing, in that way, too queer for 
 them to do." 
 
 Mrs. Daintry, in spite of the knowledge of her sex 
 that she might be supposed to possess, was not pre- 
 pared to rank herself on the side of this axiom. " I 
 wished to warn you," she simply said ; " do be very 
 careful." 
 
 " Yes, I'll be careful ; but I can't give up the 
 house." 
 
 " There are other houses, Florimond." 
 
 " Yes, but there is a special charm there." 
 
 " I would rather you should return to Paris than 
 do any harm." 
 
 " Oh, I shan't do any harm ; don't worry, ma m&re" 
 said Florimond. 
 
 It was a relief to Mrs. Daintry to have spoken, 
 and she endeavoured not to worry. It was doubtless 
 this effort that, for the rest of the winter, gave her 
 a somewhat rigid, anxious look. People who met 
 her in Beacon Street missed something from her face. 
 It was her usual confidence in the clearness of human 
 duty ; and some of her friends explained the change 
 by saying that she was disappointed about Florimond 
 she was afraid he was not particularly liked. 
 
194 TALES OF THREE CITIES. [vir. 
 
 VII. 
 
 BY the first of March this young man had received 
 a good many optical impressions, and had noted in 
 water-colours several characteristic winter effects. He 
 had perambulated Boston in every direction, he had 
 even extended his researches to the suburbs ; and if 
 his eye had been curious, his eye was now almost 
 satisfied. He perceived that even amid the simple 
 civilisation of New England there was material for the 
 naturalist ; and in Washington Street of a winter's 
 afternoon, it came home to him that it was a fortunate 
 thing the impressionist was not exclusively preoccupied 
 with the beautiful. He became familiar with the 
 slushy streets, crowded with thronging pedestrians and 
 obstructed horse-cars, bordered with strange, promis- 
 cuous shops, which seemed at once violent and in- 
 different, overhung with snowbanks from the house- 
 tops ; the avalanche that detached itself at intervals, 
 fell with an enormous thud amid the dense processions 
 of women, made for a moment a clear space, splashed 
 with whiter snow, on -the pavement, and contributed 
 to the gaiety of the Puritan capital. Supreme in the 
 thoroughfare was the rigid groove of the railway, where 
 oblong receptacles, of fabulous capacity, governed by 
 familiar citizens, jolted and jingled eternally, close on 
 each other's rear, absorbing and emitting innumerable 
 specimens of a single type. The road on either side, 
 buried in mounds of pulverised, mud-coloured ice, was 
 ploughed across by labouring vehicles, and traversed 
 periodically by the sisterhood of " shoppers," laden with 
 satchels and parcels, and protected by a round-backed 
 
vii.] A NEW ENGLAND WINTER. 195 
 
 policeman. Florimond looked at the shops, saw the 
 women disgorged, surging, ebbing, dodged the aval- 
 anches, squeezed in and out of the horse-cars, made 
 himself, on their little platforms, where flatness was 
 enforced, as perpendicular as possible. The horses 
 steamed in the sunny air, the conductor punched the 
 tickets and poked the passengers, some of whom were 
 under and some above, and all alike stabled in 
 trampled straw. They were precipitated, collectively, 
 by stoppages and starts; the tight, silent interior 
 stuffed itself more and more, and the whole machine 
 heaved and reeled in its interrupted course. Flori- 
 mond had forgotten the look of many things, the 
 details of American publicity ; in some cases, indeed, 
 he only pretended to himself that he had forgotten 
 them, because it helped to entertain him. The houses 
 a bristling, jagged line of tails and shorts, a 
 parti-coloured surface, expressively commercial were 
 spotted with staring signs, with labels and pictures, 
 with advertisements familiar, colloquial, vulgar ; the air 
 was traversed with the tangle of the telegraph, with 
 festoons of bunting, with banners not of war, with 
 inexplicable loops and ropes ; the shops, many of them 
 enormous, had heterogeneous fr6nts, with queer juxta- 
 positions in the articles that' peopled them, an in- 
 completeness of array, the stamp of the latest modern 
 ugliness. They had pendant stuffs in the doorways, 
 and flapping tickets outside. Every fifty yards there 
 was a " candy store ;" in the intervals was the painted 
 panel of a chiropodist, representing him in his pro- 
 fessional attitude. Behind the plates of glass, in the 
 hot interiors, behind the counters, were pale, familiar, 
 delicate, tired faces of women, with polished hair and 
 glazed complexions, Horimond knew their voices ; he 
 
196 TALES OF THREE CITIES. [vn. 
 
 knew how women would speak when their hair was 
 " treated," as they said in the studios, like that. But 
 the women that passed through the streets were the 
 main spectacle. Florimond had forgotten their extra- 
 ordinary numerosity, and the impression that they 
 produced of a deluge of petticoats. He could see that 
 they were perfectly at home on the road ; they had an 
 air of possession, of perpetual equipment, a look, in the 
 eyes, of always meeting the gaze of crowds, always 
 seeing people pass, noting things in shop- windows, and 
 being on the watch at crossings; many of them 
 evidently passed most of their time in these conditions, 
 and Florimond wondered what sort of inUrieurs they 
 could have. He felt at moments that he was in a city 
 of women, in a country of women. The same im- 
 pression came to him dans le monde, as he used to say, 
 for he made the most incongruous application of his 
 little French phrases to Boston. The talk, the social 
 life, were so completely in the hands of the ladies, the 
 masculine note was so subordinate, that on certain 
 occasions he could have believed himself (putting the 
 brightness aside) in a country stricken by a war, where 
 the men had all gone to the army, or in a seaport half 
 depopulated by the absence of its vessels. This idea 
 had intermissions ; for instance, when he walked out 
 to Cambridge. In this little excursion he often 
 indulged ; he used to go and see one of his college- 
 mates, who was now a tutor at Harvard. He stretched 
 away across the long, mean bridge that spans the 
 mouth of the Charles a mile of wooden piles, sup- 
 porting a brick pavement, a roadway deep in mire, and 
 a rough timber fence, over which the pedestrian enjoys 
 a view of the frozen bay, the backs of many new 
 houses, and a big brown marsh. The horse-cars bore 
 
vii.] A NEW ENGLAND WINTER. 197 
 
 him company, relieved here of the press of the streets, 
 though not of their internal congestion, and constituting 
 the principal feature of the wide, blank avenue, where 
 the puddles lay large across the bounding rails. He 
 followed their direction through a middle region, in 
 which the small wooden houses had an air of tent-like 
 impermanence, and the February mornings, splendid 
 and indiscreet, stared into bare windows and seemed 
 to make civilisation transparent. Further, the suburb 
 remained wooden, but grew neat, and the painted 
 houses looked out on the car-track with an expression 
 almost of superiority. At Harvard, the buildings were 
 square and fresh ; they stood in a yard planted with 
 slender elms, which the winter had reduced to 
 spindles ; the town stretched away from the horizontal 
 palings of the collegiate precinct, low, flat and immense, 
 with vague, featureless spaces and the air of a clean 
 encampment. Florimond remembered that when the 
 summer came in, the whole place was transformed. 
 It was pervaded by verdure and dust, the slender elms 
 became profuse, arching over the unpaved streets, the 
 green shutters bowed themselves before the windows, 
 the flowers and creeping-plants bloomed in the small 
 gardens, and on the piazzas, in the gaps of dropped 
 awnings, light dresses arrested the eye. At night, in 
 the warm darkness for Cambridge is not festooned 
 with lamps the bosom of nature would seem to 
 palpitate, there would be a smell of earth and 
 vegetation a smell more primitive than the odour of 
 Europe and the air would vibrate with the sound of 
 insects. All this was in reserve, if one would have 
 patience, especially from March to June ; but for the 
 present the seat of the University struck our poor little 
 critical Florimond as rather hard and bare. As the 
 
198 TALES OF THREE CITIES. [vn. 
 
 winter went on, and the days grew longer, he knew 
 that Mrs. Daintry often believed him to be in Arling- 
 ton Street when he was walking out to see his friend 
 the tutor, who had once spent a winter in Paris and 
 never tired of talking about it. It is to be feared that 
 he did not undeceive her so punctually as he might ; 
 for, in the first place, he was at Mrs. Mesh's very 
 often; in the second, he failed to understand how 
 worried his mother was; and in the third, the idea 
 that he should be thought to have the peace of mind 
 of a brilliant girl in his keeping was not disagreeable 
 to him. 
 
 One day his Aunt Lucretia found him in Arlington 
 Street; it occurred to her about the middle of the 
 winter that, considering she liked Eachel Torrance so 
 much, she had not been to see her very often. She had 
 little time for such indulgences ; but she caught a 
 moment in its flight, and was told at Mrs. Mesh's door 
 that this lady had not yet come in, but that her com- 
 panion was accessible. Florimond was in his custom- 
 ary chair by the chimney-corner (his aunt perhaps did 
 not know quite how customary it was), and Eachel, 
 at the piano, was regaling him with a composition 
 of Schubert. Florimond, up to this time, had not 
 become very intimate with his aunt, who had not, as 
 it were, given him the key of her house, and in whom 
 he detected a certain want of interest in his affairs. 
 He had a limited sympathy with people who were 
 interested only in their own, and perceived that Miss 
 Daintry belonged to this preoccupied and ungraceful 
 class. It seemed to him that it would have been 
 more becoming in her to feign at least a certain 
 attention to the professional and social prospects of 
 the most promising of her nephews. If there was one 
 
vii.] A NEW ENGLAND WINTER. 199 
 
 thing that Florimond disliked more than another, it 
 was an eager self-absorption ; and he could not see 
 that it was any better for people to impose their 
 personality upon committees and charities than upon 
 genera] society. He would have modified this judg- 
 ment of his kinswoman, with whom he had dined but 
 once, if he could have guessed with what anxiety she 
 watched for the symptoms of that salutary change 
 which she expected to see wrought in him by the 
 fascinating independence of Kachel Torrance. If she 
 had dared, she would have prompted the girl a little ; 
 she would have confided to her this secret desire. 
 But the matter was delicate ; and Miss Daintry was 
 shrewd enough to see that everything must be spon- 
 taneous. When she paused at the threshold of Mrs. 
 Mesh's drawing-room, looking from one of her young 
 companions to the other, she felt a slight pang, for 
 she feared they were getting on too well. Rachel 
 was pouring sweet music into the young man's ears, 
 and turning to look at him over her shoulder while she 
 played; and he, with his head tipped back and his 
 eyes on the ceiling, hummed an accompaniment which 
 occasionally became an articulate remark. Harmoni- 
 ous intimacy was stamped upon the scene, and poor 
 Miss Daintry was not struck with its being in any 
 degree salutary. She was not reassured when, after 
 ten minutes, Florimond took his departure ; she could 
 see that he was irritated by the presence of a third 
 person; and this was a proof that Rachel had not 
 yet begun to do her duty by him. It is possible that 
 when the two ladies were left together, her disap- 
 pointment would have led her to betray her views, 
 had not Rachel almost immediately said to her : 
 "My dear cousin, I am so glad you have come; I 
 
200 TALES OF THREE CITIES. [vii. 
 
 might not have seen you again. I go away in three 
 days." 
 
 " Go away ? Where do you go to ? " 
 " Back to Brooklyn," said Eachel, smiling sweetly. 
 " Why on earth I thought you had come here to 
 stay for six months ? " 
 
 " Oh, you know, six months would be a terrible 
 visit for these good people ; and of course no time was 
 fixed. That would have been very absurd. I have 
 been here an immense time already. It was to be as 
 things should go." 
 
 " And haven't they gone well ? " 
 " Oh yes, they have gone beautifully." 
 " Then why in the world do you leave ? " 
 "Well, you know, I have duties at home. My 
 mother coughs a good deal, and they write me dismal 
 letters." 
 
 " They are ridiculous, selfish people. You are going 
 home because your mother coughs ? I don't believe a 
 word of it ! " Miss Daintry cried. " You have some 
 other reason. Something has happened here ; it has 
 become disagreeable. Be so good as to tell me the 
 whole story." 
 
 Eachel answered that there was not any story to 
 tell, and that her reason consisted entirely of conscien- 
 tious scruples as to absenting herself so long from 
 her domestic circle. Miss Daintry esteemed conscien- 
 tious scruples when they were well placed, but she 
 thought poorly on the present occasion of those of 
 Mrs. Mesh's visitor ; they interfered so much with her 
 own sense of fitness. " Has Florimond been making 
 love to you ? " she suddenly inquired. " You mustn't 
 mind that beyond boxing his ears." 
 
 Her question appeared to amuse Miss Torrance 
 
VIL] A NEW ENGLAND WINTER. 201 
 
 exceedingly ; and the girl, a little inarticulate with her 
 mirth, answered very positively that the young man 
 had done her no such honour. 
 
 " I am very sorry to hear it," said Lucretia ; " I was 
 in hopes he would give you a chance to take him 
 down. He needs it very much. He's dreadfully 
 puffed up." 
 
 " He's an amusing little man ! " 
 
 Miss Daintry put on her nippers. " Don't tell me 
 it's you that are in love ! " 
 
 " Oh, dear no ! I like big, serious men ; not small 
 Frenchified gentlemen, like Florimond. Excuse me if 
 he's your nephew, but you began it. Though I am 
 fond of art," the girl added, " I don't think I am fond 
 of artists." 
 
 " Do you call Florimond an artist ? " 
 
 Eachel Torrance hesitated a little, smiling. " Yes, 
 when he poses for Pauline Mesh." 
 
 This rejoinder for a moment left Miss Daintry in 
 visible perplexity ; then a sudden light seemed to come 
 to her. She flushed a little ; what she found was more 
 than she was looking for. She thought of many things 
 quickly, and among others she thought that she had 
 accomplished rather more than she intended. " Have 
 you quarrelled with Pauline ? " she said presently. 
 
 " No, but she is tired of me." 
 
 " Everything has not gone well, then, and you have 
 another reason for going home than your mother's 
 cough ? " 
 
 "Yes, if you must know, Pauline wants me to go. 
 I didn't feel free to tell you that ; but since you 
 guess it " said Eachel, with her rancourless smile. 
 
 " Has she asked you to decamp ? " 
 
 " Oh, dear no ! for what do you take us ? But she 
 
202 TALES OF THREE CITIES. [vn. 
 
 absents herself from the house; she stays away all 
 day. I have to play to Florimond to console him." 
 
 " So you have been fighting about him ? " Miss 
 Daintry remarked, perversely. 
 
 " Ah, my dear cousin, what have you got in your 
 head? Fighting about sixpence! if you knew how 
 Florimond bores me ! I play to him to keep him 
 silent. I have heard everything he has to say, fifty 
 times over ! " 
 
 Miss Daintry sank back in her chair; she was 
 completely out of her reckoning. " I think he might 
 have made love to you a little ! " she exclaimed, inco- 
 herently. 
 
 " So do I ! but he didn't not a crumb. He is 
 afraid of me thank heaven ! " 
 
 " It isn't for you he comes, then?" Miss Daintry 
 appeared to cling to her theory. 
 
 " No, my dear cousin, it isn't ! " 
 
 " Just now, as he sat there, one could easily have 
 supposed it. He didn't at all like my interruption." 
 
 " That was because he was waiting for Pauline to 
 come in. He will wait that way an hour. You may 
 imagine whether he likes me for boring her so that, as 
 I tell you, she can't stay in the house. I am out my- 
 self as much as possible. But there are days when I 
 drop with fatigue ; then I must rest. I can assure 
 you that it's fortunate that I go so soon." 
 
 " Is Pauline in love with him ? " Miss Daintry 
 asked, gravely. 
 
 " Not a grain. She is the best little woman in the 
 world." 
 
 " Except for being a goose. Why, then, does she 
 object to your company after being so enchanted 
 with you ? " 
 
vii.] A NEW ENGLAND WINTER. 203 
 
 " Because even the best little woman in the world 
 must object to something. She has everything in life, 
 and nothing to complain of. Her children sleep all 
 day, and her cook is a jewel. Her husband adores her, 
 and she is perfectly satisfied with Mr. Mesh. I act on 
 her nerves, and I think she believes I regard her as 
 rather silly to care so much for Florimond. Excuse 
 me again ! " 
 
 "You contradict yourself. She does care for him, 
 then ? " 
 
 " Oh, as she would care for a new coup ! She likes 
 to have a young man of her own fresh from Paris 
 quite to herself. She has everything else why 
 shouldn't she have that? She thinks your nephew 
 very original, and he thinks her what she is the 
 prettiest woman in Boston. They have an idea that 
 they are making a ' celebrated friendship ' like Horace 
 Walpole and Madame du Deffand. They sit there face 
 to face they are as innocent as the shovel and tongs. 
 But, all the same, I am in the way, and Pauline is 
 provoked that I am not jealous." 
 
 Miss Daintry got up with energy. " She's a vain, 
 hollow, silly little creature, and you are quite right to 
 go away; you are worthy of better company. Only 
 you will not go back to Brooklyn, in spite of your 
 mother's cough ; you will come straight to Mount Ver- 
 non Place." 
 
 Eachel hesitated to agree to this. She appeared 
 to think it was her duty to quit Boston altogether; 
 and she gave as a reason that she had already refused 
 other invitations. But Miss Daintry had a better 
 reason than this a reason that glowed in her indig- 
 nant breast. It was she who had been the cause of 
 the girl's being drawn into this sorry adventure ; it 
 
204 TALES OF THREE CITIES. [vn. 
 
 was she who should charge herself with the reparation. 
 The conversation I have related took place on a 
 Tuesday; and it was settled that on the Friday Miss 
 Torrance should take up her abode for the rest of the 
 winter under her Cousin Lucretia's roof. This lady 
 left the house without having seen Mrs. Mesh. 
 
 On Thursday she had a visit from her sister-in-law, 
 the motive of which was not long in appearing. All 
 winter Mrs. Daintry had managed to keep silent on 
 the subject of her doubts and fears. Discretion and 
 dignity recommended this course ; and the topic was a 
 painful one to discuss with Lucretia, for the bruises 
 of their primary interview still occasionally throbbed. 
 But at the first sign of alleviation the excellent woman 
 overflowed, and she lost no time in announcing to 
 Lucretia, as a heaven-sent piece of news, that Eachel 
 had been called away by the illness of poor Mrs. Tor- 
 rance and was to leave Boston from one day to the 
 other. Florimond had given her this information the 
 evening before, and it had made her so happy that she 
 couldn't help coming to let Lucretia know that they 
 were safe. Lucretia listened to her announcement in 
 silence, fixing her eyes on her sister-in-law with an 
 expression that the latter thought singular; but when 
 Mrs. Daintry, expanding still further, went on to say 
 that she had spent a winter of misery, that the harm 
 the two together (she and Lucretia) might have done 
 was never out of her mind, for Florimond's assiduity in 
 Arlington Street had become notorious, and she had 
 been told that the most cruel things were said when 
 Mrs. Daintry, expressing herself to this effect, added 
 that from the present moment she breathed, the danger 
 was over, the sky was clear, and her conscience might 
 take a holiday her hostess broke into the most pro- 
 
vii.] A NEW ENGLAND WINTER. 205 
 
 longed, the most characteristic and most bewildering 
 fit of laughter in which she had ever known her to 
 indulge. They were safe, Mrs. Daintry had said ? 
 For Lucretia this was true, now, of herself, at least; 
 she was secure from the dangers of her irritation ; her 
 sense of the whole affair had turned to hilarious music. 
 The contrast that rose before her between her visitor's 
 anxieties and the real position of the parties, her quick 
 vision of poor Susan's dismay in case that reality should 
 meet her eyes, among the fragments of her squandered 
 scruples these things smote the chords of mirth in 
 Miss Daintry's spirit, and seemed to her in their high 
 comicality to offer a sufficient reason for everything 
 that had happened. The picture of her sister-in-law 
 sitting all winter with her hands clasped and her eyes 
 fixed on the wrong object was an image that would 
 abide with her always ; and it would render her an 
 inestimable service it would cure her of the tendency 
 to worry. As may be imagined, it was eminently 
 open to Mrs. Daintry to ask her what on earth she 
 was laughing at ; and there was a colour in the cheek 
 of Florimond's mother that brought her back to pro- 
 priety. She suddenly kissed this lady very tenderly 
 to the latter's great surprise, there having been no kissing 
 since her visit in November and told her that she would 
 reveal to her some day, later, the cause of so much 
 merriment. She added that Miss Torrance was leaving 
 Arlington Street, yes ; but only to go as far as Mount 
 Vernon Place. She was engaged to spend three months 
 in that very house. Mrs. Daintry's countenance at this 
 fell several inches, and her joy appeared completely 
 to desert her. She gave her sister-in-law a glance 
 of ineffable reproach, and in a moment she exclaimed : 
 " Then nothing is gained ! it will all go on here ! " 
 
206 TALES OF THREE CITIES. [vn. 
 
 "Nothing will go on here. If you mean that 
 Florimond will pursue the young lady into this moun- 
 tain fastness, you may simply be quiet. He is not 
 fond enough of me to wear out my threshold." 
 
 " Are you very sure ? " Mrs. Daintry murmured, 
 dubiously. 
 
 " I know what I say. Hasn't he told you he hates 
 me?" 
 
 Mrs. Daintry coloured again, and hesitated. " I 
 don't know how you think we talk," she said. 
 
 " Well, he does, and he will leave us alone." 
 
 Mrs. Daintry sprang up with an elasticity that was 
 comical. " That's all I ask ! " she exclaimed. 
 
 " I believe you hate me too ! " Lucretia said, laugh- 
 ing ; but at any risk she kissed her sister-in-law again 
 before they separated. 
 
 Three weeks later Mrs. Daintry paid her another 
 visit ; and this time she looked very serious. " It's 
 very strange. I don't know what to think. But 
 perhaps you know it already ? " This was her entrte 
 en mature, as the French say. "Eachel's leaving 
 Arlington Street has made no difference. He goes 
 there as much as ever. I see no change at all. 
 Lucretia, I have not the peace that I thought had 
 come," said poor Mrs. Daintry, whose voice had failed, 
 below her breath. 
 
 " Do you mean that he goes to see Pauline Mesh ? " 
 
 " I am afraid so, every day." 
 
 "Well, my dear, what's the harm?" Miss Daintry 
 asked. " He can't hurt her by not marrying her." 
 
 Mrs. Daintry stared ; she was amazed at her sister- 
 in-law's tone. " But it makes one suppose that all 
 winter, for so many weeks, it has been for her that 
 he has gone!" And the image of the tte-&-tte in 
 
vii.] A NEW ENGLAND WINTER. 207 
 
 which she had fouiid them immersed that day, rose 
 again before her ; she could interpret it now. 
 
 " You wanted some one ; why may not Pauline 
 have served ? " 
 
 Mrs. Daintry was silent, with the same expanded 
 eyes. " Lucretia, it is not right ! " 
 
 " My dear Susan, you are touching," Lucretia said. 
 
 Mrs. Daintry went on, without heeding her. " It 
 appears that people are talking about it ; they have 
 noticed it for ever so long. Joanna never hears any- 
 thing, or she would have told me. The children are 
 too much. I have been the last to know." 
 
 " I knew it a month ago," said Miss Daintry, smiling. 
 
 " And you never told me ? " 
 
 " I knew that you wanted to detain him. Pauline 
 will detain him a year." 
 
 Mrs. Daintry gathered herself together. "Not a 
 day, not an hour, that I can help ! He shall go, if I 
 have to take him." 
 
 " My dear Susan," murmured her sister-in-law on the 
 threshold. Miss Daintry scarcely knew what to say ; 
 she was almost frightened at the rigidity of her face. 
 
 " My dear Lucretia, it is not right ! " This ejacu- 
 lation she solemnly repeated, and she took her de- 
 parture as if she were decided upon action. 
 
 She had found so little sympathy in her sister-in- 
 law that she made no answer to a note Miss Daintry 
 wrote her that evening, to remark that she was really 
 unjust to Pauline, who was silly, vain, and nattered by 
 the development of her ability to monopolise an im- 
 pressionist, but a perfectly innocent little woman and 
 incapable of a serious flirtation. Miss Daintry had 
 been careful to add to these last words no comment 
 that could possibly shock Florimond's mother. Mrs. 
 
208 TALES OF THREE CITIES. [vii. 
 
 Daintry announced, about the 10th of April, that she 
 had made up her mind she needed a change, and had 
 determined to go abroad for the summer; and she 
 looked so tired that people could see there was reason 
 in it. Her summer began early; she embarked on 
 the 20th of the month, accompanied by Florimond. 
 Miss Daintry, who had not been obliged to dismiss the 
 young lady of the kindergarten to make room for 
 Eachel Torrance, never knew what had passed between 
 the mother and the son, and she was disappointed at 
 Mrs. Mesh's coolness in the face of this catastrophe. 
 She disapproved of her flirtation with Florimond, and 
 yet she was vexed at Pauline's pert resignation; it 
 proved her to be so superficial. She disposed of 
 everything with her absurd little phrases, which were 
 half slang and half quotation. Mrs. Daintry was a 
 native of Salem, and this gave Pauline, as a Balti- 
 morean and a descendant of the Cavaliers, an obvious 
 opportunity. Eachel repeated her words to Miss 
 Daintry, for she had spoken to Eachel of Florimond's 
 departure, the day after he embarked. " Oh yes, he's 
 in the midst of the foam, the cruel, crawling foam ! I 
 ' kind of ' miss him, afternoons ; he was so useful 
 round the fire. It's his mother that charmed him 
 away; she's a most uncanny old party. I don't care 
 for Salem witches, anyway ; she has worked on him 
 with philters and spells ! " Lucretia was obliged to 
 recognise a grain of truth in this last assertion ; she 
 felt that her sister-in-law must indeed have worked 
 upon Florimond, and she smiled to think that the 
 conscientious Susan should have descended, in the last 
 resort, to an artifice, to a pretext. She had probably 
 persuaded him she was out of patience with Joanna's 
 children. 
 
THE 
 
 IMPRESSIONS OF A COUSIN 
 
NEW YORK, April 3, 1873. There are moments when 
 I feel that she has asked too much of me especially 
 since our arrival in this country. These three months 
 have not done much toward making me happy here. 
 I don't know what the difference is or rather I do ; 
 and I say this only because it's less trouble. It is no 
 trouble, however, to say that I like New York less 
 than Borne : that, after all, is the difference. And then 
 there's nothing to sketch ! For ten years I have been 
 sketching, and I really believe I do it very well. But 
 how can I sketch Fifty-third Street ? There are times 
 when I even say to myself, How can I even inhabit 
 Fifty-third Street? When I turn into it from the 
 Fifth Avenue the vista seems too hideous : the narrow, 
 impersonal houses, with the dry, hard tone of their 
 brown-stone, a surface as uninteresting as that of sand- 
 paper ; their steep, stiff stoops, giving you such a climb 
 to the door ; their lumpish balustrades, porticoes, and 
 cornices, turned out by the hundred and adorned with 
 heavy excrescences such an eruption of ornament and 
 such a poverty of effect ! I suppose my superior tone 
 would seem very pretentious if anybody were to read 
 this shameless record of personal emotion ; and I should 
 be asked why an expensive up-town residence is not 
 
212 TALES OF THEEE CITIES. [i. 
 
 as good as a slimy Italian palazzo. My answer, of 
 course, is that I can sketch the palazzo and can do 
 nothing with the up-town residence. I can live in it, 
 of course, and be very grateful for the shelter; but 
 that doesn't count. Putting aside that odious fashion 
 of popping into the " parlours " as soon as you cross 
 the threshold no interval, no approach these places 
 are wonderfully comfortable. This one of Eunice's is 
 perfectly arranged ; and we have so much space that 
 she has given me a sitting-room of my own an 
 immense luxury. Her kindness, her affection, are the 
 most charming, delicate, natural thing I ever conceived. 
 I don't know what can have put it into her head to 
 like me so much; I suppose I should say into her 
 heart, only I don't like to write about Eunice's heart 
 that tender, shrinking, shade -loving, and above 
 all fresh and youthful, organ. There is a certain 
 self-complacency, perhaps, in my assuming that her 
 generosity is mere affection ; for her conscience is so 
 inordinately developed that she attaches the idea of 
 duty to everything even to her relations to a poor, 
 plain, unloved and unlovable third-cousin. Whether 
 she is fond of me or not, she thinks it right to be fond 
 of me ; and the effort of her life is to do what is right. 
 In matters of duty, in short, she is a real little artist ; 
 and her masterpiece (in that way) is coming back here 
 to live. She can't like it; her tastes are not here. 
 If she did like it, I am sure she would never have 
 invented such a phrase as the one of which she 
 delivered herself the other day "I think one's life 
 has more dignity in one's own country." That's a 
 phrase made up after the fact. No one ever gave up 
 living in Europe because there is a want of dignity in 
 it. Poor Eunice talks of " one's own country " as if 
 
I.] THE IMPRESSIONS OF A COUSIN. 213 
 
 she kept the United States in the back-parlour. I 
 have yet to perceive the dignity of living in Fifty-third 
 Street. This, I suppose, is very treasonable ; but a 
 woman isn't obliged to be patriotic. I believe I should 
 be a good patriot if I could sketch my native town. 
 But I can't make a picture of the brown-stone stoops 
 in the Fifty Avenue, or the platform of the elevated 
 railway in the Sixth. Eunice has suggested to me 
 that I might find some subjects in the Park, and I 
 have been there to look for them. But somehow the 
 blistered sentiers of asphalt, the rock-work caverns, the 
 huge iron bridges spanning little muddy lakes, the 
 whole crowded, cockneyfied place, making up so many 
 faces to look pretty, don't appeal to me haven't, from 
 beginning to end, a discoverable "bit." Besides, it's 
 too cold to sit on a campstool under this clean-swept 
 sky, whose depths of blue air do very well, doubtless, 
 for the floor of heaven, but are quite too far away for 
 the ceiling of earth. The sky over here seems part of 
 the world at large ; in Europe it's part of the particular 
 place. In summer, I dare say, it will be better ; and 
 it will go hard with me if I don't find somewhere some 
 leafy lane, some cottage roof, something in some degree 
 mossy or mellow. Nature here, of course, is very fine, 
 though I am afraid only in large pieces ; and with my 
 little yard-measure (it used to serve for the Eoman 
 Campagna !) I don't know what I shall be able to do. 
 I must try to rise to the occasion. 
 
 The Hudson is beautiful; I remember that well 
 enough; and Eunice tells me that when we are in 
 mlleggiatura we shall be close to the loveliest part of 
 it. Her cottage, or villa, or whatever they call it (Mrs. 
 Ermine, by the way, always speaks of it as a " country- 
 seat"), is more or less opposite to West Point, where it 
 
214 TALES OF THREE CITIES. [i. 
 
 makes one of its grandest sweeps. Unfortunately, it 
 has been let these three years that she has been abroad, 
 and will not be vacant till the first of June. Mr. 
 Caliph, her trustee, took upon himself to do that ; very 
 impertinently, I think, for certainly if I had Eunice's 
 fortune I shouldn't let my houses I mean, of course, 
 those that are so personal. Least of all should I let 
 my "country-seat." It's bad enough for people to 
 appropriate one's sofas and tables, without appropriating 
 one's flowers and trees and even one's views. There is 
 nothing so personal as one's horizon, the horizon that 
 one commands, whatever it is, from one's window. 
 Nobody else has just that one. Mr. Caliph, by the 
 way, is apparently a person of the incalculable, irre- 
 sponsible sort. It would have been natural to suppose 
 that having the greater part of my cousin's property 
 in his care, he would be in New York to receive her 
 at the end of a long absence and a boisterous voyage. 
 Common civility would have suggested that, especially 
 as he was an old friend, or rather a young friend, of 
 both her parents. It was an odd thing to make him 
 sole trustee ; but that was Cousin Letitia's doing : " she 
 thought it would be so much easier for Eunice to see 
 only one person." I believe she had found that effort 
 the limit of her own energy; but she might have 
 known that Eunice would have given her best atten- 
 tion, every day, to twenty men of business, if such a 
 duty had been presented to her. I don't think poor 
 Cousin Letitia knew very much ; Eunice speaks of her 
 much less than she speaks of her father, whose death 
 would have been the greater sorrow if she dared to 
 admit to herself that she preferred one of her parents 
 to the other. The number of things that the poor girl 
 doesn't dare to admit to herself! One of them, I am 
 
ij THE IMPKESSIONS OF A COUSIN. 215 
 
 sure, is that Mr. Caliph is acting improperly in spending 
 three months in Washington, just at the moment when 
 it would be most convenient to her to see him. He 
 has pressing business there, it seems (he is a good deal 
 of a politician not that I know what people do in 
 Washington), and he writes to Eunice every week or 
 two that he will " finish it up " in ten days more, and 
 then will be completely at her service ; but he never 
 finishes it up never arrives. She has not seen him 
 for three years ; he certainly, I think, ought to have 
 come out to her in Europe. She doesn't know that, 
 and I haven't cared to suggest it, for she wishes (very 
 naturally) to think him a pearl of trustees. Fortunately 
 he sends her all the money she needs ; and the other 
 day he sent her his brother, a rather agitated (though 
 not in the least agitating) youth, who presented himself 
 about lunch-time Mr. Caliph having (as he explained) 
 told him that this was the best hour to call. What 
 does Mr. Caliph know about it, by the way ? It's 
 little enough he has tried ! Mr. Adrian Frank had of 
 course nothing to say about business ; he only came to 
 be agreeable, and to tell us that he had just seen his 
 brother in Washington as if that were any comfort ! 
 They are brothers only in the sense that they are 
 children of the same mother; Mrs. Caliph having 
 accepted consolations in her widowhood and produced 
 this blushing boy, who is ten years younger than the 
 accomplished Caliph. (I say accomplished Caliph for 
 the phrase. I haven't the least idea of his accomplish- 
 ments. Somehow, a man with that name ought to 
 have a good many.) Mr. Frank, the second husband, 
 is dead as well as herself, and the young man has a 
 very good fortune. He is shy and simple, colours 
 immensely and becomes alarmed at his own silences ; 
 
216 TALES OF THREE CITIES. [i. 
 
 but is tall and straight and clear-eyed, and is, I imagine, 
 a very estimable youth. Eunice says that he is as 
 different as possible from his step -brother; so that 
 perhaps, though she doesn't mean it in that way, his 
 step-brother is not estimable. I shall judge of that for 
 myself, if he ever gives me a chance. 
 
 Young Frank, at any rate, is a gentleman, and in 
 spite of his blushes has seen a great deal of the world. 
 Perhaps that is what he is blushing for : there are so 
 many things we humans have no reason to be proud 
 of. He stayed to lunch, and talked a little about the 
 far East -Babylon, Palmyra, Ispahan, and that sort 
 of thing from which he is lately returned. He also 
 is a sketcher, though evidently he doesn't show. He 
 asked to see my things, however ; and I produced a 
 few old water-colours, of other days and other climes, 
 which I have luckily brought to America produced 
 them with my usual calm assurance. It was clear he 
 thought me very clever; so I suspect that in not 
 showing he himself is rather wise. When I said there 
 was nothing here to sketch, that rectangular towns 
 won't do, etc., he asked me why I didn't try people. 
 What people ? the people in the Fifth Avenue ? They 
 are even less pictorial than their houses. I don't 
 perceive that those in the Sixth are any better, or 
 those in the Fourth and Third, or in the Seventh 
 and Eighth. Good heavens ! what a nomenclature ! 
 The city of New York is like a tall sum in addition, 
 and the streets are like columns of figures. What a 
 place for me to live, who hate arithmetic ! I have 
 tried Mrs. Ermine, but that is only because she asked 
 me to : Mrs. Ermine asks for whatever she wants. I 
 don't think she cares for it much, for though it's bad, 
 it's not bad enough to please her. I thought she 
 
I.] THE IMPRESSIONS OF A COUSIN. 217 
 
 would be rather easy to do, as her countenance is 
 made up largely of negatives no colour, no form, no 
 intelligence ; I should simply have to leave a sort of 
 brilliant blank. I found, however, there was difficulty 
 in representing an expression which consisted so com- 
 pletely of the absence of that article. With her large, 
 fair, featureless face, unillumined by a ray of meaning, 
 she makes the most incoherent, the most unexpected, 
 remarks. She asked Eunice, the other day, whether 
 she should not bring a few gentlemen to see her she 
 seemed to know so few, to be so lonely. Then when 
 Eunice thanked her, and said she needn't take that 
 trouble : she was not lonely, and in any case did not 
 desire her solitude to be peopled in that manner 
 Mrs. Ermine declared blandly that it was all right, 
 but that she supposed this was the great advantage of 
 being an orphan, that you might have gentlemen 
 brought to see you. " I don't like being an orphan, 
 even for that," said Eunice ; who indeed does not like 
 it at all, though she will be twenty-one next month, 
 and has had several years to get used to it. Mrs. 
 Ermine is very vulgar, yet she thinks she has high 
 distinction. I am very glad our cousinship is not on 
 the same side. Except that she is an idiot and a 
 bore, however, I think there is no harm in her. Her 
 time is spent in contemplating the surface of things 
 and for that I don't blame her, for I myself am very 
 fond of the surface. But she doesn't see what she 
 looks at, and in short is very tiresome. That is one 
 of the things poor Eunice won't admit to herself 
 that Lizzie Ermine will end by boring us to death. 
 Now that both her daughters are married, she has her 
 time quite on her hands ; for the sons-in-law, I am 
 sure, can't encourage her visits. She may, however, 
 
218 TALES OF THREE CITIES. [i. 
 
 contrive to be with them as well as here, for, as a 
 poor young husband once said to me, a lelle-mbre, 
 after marriage, is as inevitable as stickiness after 
 eating honey. A fool can do plenty of harm without 
 deep intentions. After all, intentions fail ; and what 
 you know an accident by is that it doesn't. Mrs. 
 Ermine doesn't like me ; she thinks she ought to be 
 in my shoes that when Eunice lost her old governess, 
 who had remained with her as "companion," she 
 ought, instead of picking me up in Eome, to have 
 come home and thrown herself upon some form of 
 kinship more cushiony. She is jealous of me, and 
 vexed that I don't give her more opportunities ; for 
 I know that she has made up her mind that I ought 
 to be a Bohemian : in that case she could persuade 
 Eunice that I am a very unfit sort of person. I am 
 single, not young, not pretty, not well off, and not 
 very desirous to please; I carry a palette on my 
 thumb, and very often have stains on my apron 
 though except for those stains I pretend to be im- 
 maculately neat. What right have I not to be a 
 Bohemian, and not to teach Eunice to make cigarettes ? 
 I am convinced Mrs. Ermine is disappointed that I 
 don't smoke. Perhaps, after all, she is right, and that 
 I am too much a creature of habits, of rules. A few 
 people have been good enough to call me an artist; 
 but I am not. I am only, in a small way, a worker. 
 I walk too straight ; it's ten years since any one asked 
 me to dance ! I wish I could oblige you, Mrs. Ermine, 
 by dipping into Bohemia once in a while. But 
 one can't have the defects of the qualities one doesn't 
 possess. I am not an artist, I am too much of a 
 critic. I suppose a she-critic is a kind of monster; 
 women should only be criticised. That's why I keep 
 
i.] THE IMPRESSIONS OF A COUSIN. 219 
 
 it all to myself myself being this little book. I 
 grew tired of myself some months ago, and locked 
 myself up in a desk. It was a kind of punishment, 
 but it was also a great rest, to stop judging, to stop 
 caring, for a while. Now that I have come out, I 
 suppose I ought to take a vow not to be ill-natured. 
 
 As I read over what I have written here, I wonder 
 whether it was worth while to have reopened my 
 journal. Still, why not have the benefit of being 
 thought disagreeable the luxury of recorded obser- 
 vation ? If one is poor, plain, proud and in this 
 very private place I may add, clever there are certain 
 necessary revenges ! 
 
 April 10. Adrian Frank has been here again, and 
 we rather like him. (That will do for the first note 
 of a more genial tone.) His eyes are very blue, and 
 his teeth very white two things that always please 
 me. He became rather more communicative, and 
 almost promised to show me his sketches in spite of 
 the fact that he is evidently as much as ever struck 
 with my own ability. Perhaps he has discovered 
 that I am trying to be genial ! He wishes to take us 
 to drive that is, to take Eunice ; for of course I 
 shall go only for propriety. She doesn't go with 
 young men alone ; that element was not included in 
 her education. She said to me yesterday, " The only 
 man I shall drive alone with will be the one I marry." 
 She talks so little about marrying that this made an 
 impression on me. That subject is supposed to be a 
 girl's inevitable topic; but no young women could 
 occupy themselves with it less than she and I do. I 
 think I may say that we never mention it at all. 
 I suppose that if a man were to read this he would 
 be greatly surprised and not particularly edified. As 
 
220 TALES OF THREE CITIES. [i. 
 
 there is no danger of any man's reading it, I may add 
 that I always take tacitly for granted that Eunice will 
 marry. She doesn't in the least pretend that she 
 won't; and if I am not mistaken she is capable of 
 the sort of affection that is expected of a good wife. 
 The longer I live with her the more I see that she is 
 a dear girl. Now that I know her better, I perceive 
 that she is perfectly natural. I used to think that 
 she tried too much that she watched herself, perhaps, 
 with a little secret admiration. But that was because 
 I couldn't conceive of a girl's motives being so simple. 
 She only wants not to suffer she is immensely afraid 
 of that. Therefore, she wishes to be universally 
 tender to mitigate the general sum of suffering, in 
 the hope that she herself may come off easily. Poor 
 thing ! she doesn't know that we can diminish the 
 amount of suffering for others only by taking to our- 
 selves a part of their share. The amount of that 
 commodity in the world is always the same ; it is 
 only the distribution that varies. We all try to 
 dodge our portion, and some of us succeed. I find 
 the best way is not to think about it, and to make 
 little water-colours. Eunice thinks that the best way 
 is to be very generous, to condemn no one unheard. 
 
 A great many things happen that I don't mention 
 here ; incidents of social life, I believe they call them. 
 People come to see us, and sometimes they invite us 
 to dinner. We go to certain concerts, many of which 
 are very good. We take a walk every day ; and I read 
 to Eunice, and she plays to me. Mrs. Ermine makes 
 her appearance several times a week, and gives us the 
 news of the town a great deal more of it than we 
 have any use for. She thinks we live in a hole ; and 
 she has more than once expressed her conviction that 
 
I.] THE IMPRESSIONS OF A COUSIN. 221 
 
 I can do nothing socially for Eunice. As to that, she 
 is perfectly right ; I am aware of my social insignifi- 
 cance. But I am equally aware that my cousin has 
 no need of being pushed. I know little of the people 
 and things of this place ; but I know enough to see 
 that, whatever they are, the best of them are at her 
 service. Mrs. Ermine thinks it a great pity that 
 Eunice should have come too late in the season to "go 
 out " with her ; for after this there are few entertain- 
 ments at which my protecting presence is not suffi- 
 cient. Besides, Eunice isn't eager ; I often wonder at 
 her indifference. She never thinks of the dances she 
 has missed, nor asks about those at which she still 
 may figure. She isn't sad, and it doesn't amount to 
 melancholy; but she certainly is rather detached. 
 She likes to read, to talk with me, to make music, and 
 to dine out when she supposes there will be "real 
 conversation." She is extremely fond of real conversa- 
 tion; and we flatter ourselves that a good deal of it 
 takes place between us. We talk about life and 
 religion and art and George Eliot ; all that, I hope, is 
 sufficiently real. Eunice understands everything, and 
 has a great many opinions ; she is quite the modern 
 young woman, though she hasn't modern manners. 
 But all this doesn't explain to me why, as Mrs. Ermine 
 says, she should wish to be so dreadfully quiet. That 
 lady's suspicion to the contrary notwithstanding, it i& 
 not I who make her so. I would go with her to a 
 party every night if she should wish it, and send out 
 cards to proclaim that we "receive." But her am- 
 bitions are not those of the usual girl ; or, at any rate, 
 if she is waiting for what the usual girl waits for, she 
 is waiting very patiently. As I say, I can't quite 
 make out the secret of her patience. However, it is 
 
222 TALES OF THREE CITIES. [i. 
 
 not necessary I should ; it was no part of the bargain 
 on which I came to her that we were to conceal 
 nothing from each other. I conceal a great deal 
 from Eunice ; at least I hope I do : for instance, how 
 fearfully I am bored. I think I am as patient as 
 she; but then I have certain things to help me 
 my age, my resignation, my ability, and, I suppose I 
 may add, my conceit. Mrs. Ermine doesn't bring the 
 young men, but she talks about them, and calls them 
 Harry and Freddy. She wants Eunice to marry, 
 though I don't see what she is to gain by it. It is 
 apparently a disinterested love of matrimony or 
 rather, I should say, a love of weddings. She lives in 
 a world of " engagements," and announces a new one 
 every time she comes in. I never heard of so much 
 marrying in all my life before. Mrs. Ermine is dying 
 to be able to tell people that Eunice is engaged ; that 
 distinction should not be wanting to a cousin of hers. 
 Whoever marries her, by the way, will come into a 
 very good fortune. Almost for the first time, three 
 days ago, she told me about her affairs. 
 
 She knows less about them than she believes I 
 could see that; but she knows the great matter; 
 which is, that in the course of her twenty-first year, 
 by the terms of her mother's will she becomes mis- 
 tress of her property, of which for the last seven years 
 Mr. Caliph has been sole trustee. On that day Mr. 
 Caliph is to make over to her three hundred thousand 
 dollars, which he has been nursing and keeping safe. 
 So much on every occasion seems to be expected of 
 this wonderful man ! I call him so because I think it 
 was wonderful of him to have been appointed sole 
 depositary of the property of an orphan by a very 
 anxious, scrupulous, affectionate mother, whose one 
 
i.] THE IMPRESSIONS OF A COUSIN. 223 
 
 desire, when she made her will, was to prepare for her 
 child a fruitful majority, and whose acquaintance with 
 him had not been of many years, though her esteem 
 for him was great. He had been a friend a very 
 good friend of her husband, who, as he neared his 
 end, asked him to look after his widow. Eunice's 
 father didn't however make him trustee of his little 
 estate; he put that into other hands, and Eunice has 
 a very good account of it. It amounts, unfortunately, 
 but to some fifty thousand dollars. Her mother's 
 proceedings with regard to Mr. Caliph were very 
 feminine so I may express myself in the privacy of 
 these pages. But I believe all women are very 
 feminine in their relations with Mr. Caliph. " Haroun- 
 al-Easchid " I call him to Eunice ; and I suppose he 
 expects to find us in a state of Oriental prostration. 
 She says, however, that he is not the least of a Turk, 
 and that nothing could be kinder or more considerate 
 than he was three years ago, before she went to 
 Europe. He was constantly with her at that time, 
 for many months ; and his attentions have evidently 
 made a great impression on her. That sort of thing 
 naturally would, on a girl of seventeen; and I have 
 told her she must be prepared to think him much less 
 brilliant a personage to-day. I don't know what he 
 will think of some of her plans of expenditure, 
 laying out an Italian garden at the house on the river, 
 founding a cot at the children's hospital, erecting a 
 music-room in the rear of this house. Next winter 
 Eunice proposes to receive ; but she wishes to have an 
 originality, in the shape of really good music. She 
 will evidently be rather extravagant, at least at first. 
 Mr. Caliph of course will have no more authority ; 
 still, he may advise her as a friend. 
 
224 TALES OF THREE CITIES. [[. 
 
 April 23. This afternoon, while Eunice was out, 
 Mr. Frank made his appearance, having had the 
 civility, as I afterwards learned, to ask for me, in spite 
 of the absence of the padronina. I told him she was 
 at Mrs. Ermine's, and that Mrs. Ermine was her cousin. 
 
 " Then I can say what I should not be able to say 
 if she were here," he said, smiling that singular smile 
 which has the effect of showing his teeth and drawing 
 the lids of his eyes together. If he were a young 
 countryman, one would call it a grin. It is not ex- 
 actly a grin, but it is very simple. 
 
 " And what may that be ? " I asked, with encourage- 
 ment. 
 
 He hesitated a little, while I admired his teeth, 
 which I am sure he has no wish to exhibit ; and I 
 expected something wonderful. " Considering that she 
 is fair, she is really very pretty," he said at last. 
 
 I was rather disappointed, and I went so far as to 
 say to him that he might have made that remark in 
 her presence. 
 
 This time his blue eyes remained wide open : " So 
 you really think so ?" 
 
 " ' Considering that she's fair,' that part of it, per- 
 haps, might have been omitted ; but the rest surely 
 would have pleased her." 
 
 " Do you really think so ? " 
 
 "Well, 'really very pretty' is, perhaps, not quite 
 right; it seems to imply a kind of surprise. You 
 might have omitted the ' really.' " 
 
 " You want me to omit everything," he said, laugh- 
 ing, as if he thought me wonderfully amusing. 
 
 "The gist of the thing would remain, 'You are 
 very pretty ;' that would have been unexpected and 
 agreeable." 
 
i.] THE IMPKESSIONS OF A COUSIN. 225 
 
 " I think you are laughing at me ! " cried poor 
 Mr. Frank, without bitterness. "I have no right 
 to say that till I know she likes me." 
 
 " She does like you ; I see no harm in telling you 
 so." He seemed to me so modest, so natural, that I 
 felt as free to say this to him as I would have been 
 to a good child : more, indeed, than to a good child, 
 for a child to whom one would say that would be 
 rather a prig, and Adrian Frank is not a prig. I 
 could see this by the way he answered ; it was rather 
 odd. 
 
 " It will please my brother to know that ! " 
 
 " Does he take such an interest in the impressions 
 you make ? " 
 
 " Oh yes ; he wants me to appear well." This was 
 said with the most touching innocence ; it was a 
 complete confession of inferiority. It was, perhaps, 
 the tone that made it so ; at any rate, Adrian Frank 
 has renounced the hope of ever appearing as well as 
 his brother. I wonder if a man must be really in- 
 ferior, to be in such a state of mind as that. He 
 must at all events be very fond of his brother, and 
 even, I think, have sacrificed himself a good deal. 
 This young man asked me ever so many questions 
 about my cousin ; frankly, simply ; as if, when one 
 wanted to know, it was perfectly natural to ask. So 
 it is, I suppose ; but why should he want to know ? 
 Some of his questions were certainly idle. What 
 can it matter to him whether she has one little dog 
 or three, or whether she is an admirer of the music 
 of the future ? " Does she go out much, or does she 
 like a quiet evening at home ? " " Does she like living 
 in Europe, and what part of Europe does she prefer ? " 
 " Has she many relatives in New York, and does she 
 
 Q 
 
226 TALES OF THREE CITIES. [i. 
 
 see a great deal of them ? " On all these points I 
 was obliged to give Mr. Frank a certain satisfaction ; 
 and after that, I thought I had a right to ask why 
 he wanted to know. He was evidently surprised at 
 being challenged, blushed a good deal, and made me 
 feel for a moment as if I had asked a vulgar question. 
 I saw he had no particular reason ; he only wanted to 
 be civil, and that is the way best known to him of 
 expressing an interest. He was confused ; but he was 
 not so confused that he took his departure. He sat 
 half an hour longer, and let me make up to him by 
 talking very agreeably for the shock I had admin- 
 istered. I may mention here for I like to see it 
 in black and white that I can talk very agreeably. 
 He listened with the most nattering attention, show- 
 ing me his blue eyes and his white teeth in alterna- 
 tion, and laughing largely, as if I had a command 
 of the comical. I am not conscious of that. At last, 
 after I had paused a little, he said to me, apropos 
 of nothing: "Do you think the realistic school are 
 a to be admired ? " Then I saw that he had 
 already forgotten my earlier check such was the 
 effect of my geniality and that he would ask me as 
 many questions about myself as I would let him. I 
 answered him freely, but I anwered him as I chose. 
 There are certain things about myself I never shall 
 tell, and the simplest way not to tell is to say the 
 contrary. If people are indiscreet, they must take 
 the consequences. I declared that I held the realistic 
 school in horror; that I found New York the most 
 interesting, the most sympathetic of cities ; and that I 
 thought the American girl the finest result of civilisa- 
 tion. I am sure I convinced him that I am a most 
 remarkable woman. He went away before Eunice 
 
i.] THE IMPRESSIONS OF A COUSIN. 227 
 
 returned. He is a charming creature a kind of 
 Yankee Donatello. If I could only be his Miriam, 
 the situation would be almost complete, for Eunice is 
 an excellent Hilda. 
 
 April 26. Mrs. Ermine was in great force to-day ; 
 she described all the fine things Eunice can do when 
 she gets her money into her own hands. A set of 
 Mechlin lace, a rivUre of diamonds which she saw the 
 other day at Tiffany's, a set of Eussian sables that she 
 knows of somewhere else, a little English phaeton with 
 a pair of ponies and a tiger, a family of pugs to waddle 
 about in the drawing-room all these luxuries Mrs. 
 Ermine declares indispensable. "I should like to 
 know that you have them it would do me real 
 good," she said to Eunice. " I like to see people with 
 handsome things. It would give me more pleasure to 
 know you have that set of Mechlin than to have it 
 myself. I can't help that it's the way I am made. 
 If other people have handsome things I see them 
 more; and then I do want the good of others I 
 don't care if you think me vain for saying so. I 
 shan't be happy till I see you in an English phaeton. 
 The groom oughtn't to be more than three feet six. 
 I think you ought to show for what you are." 
 
 " How do you mean, for what I am ? " Eunice 
 asked. 
 
 " Well, for a charming girl, with a very handsome 
 fortune." 
 
 " I shall never show any more than I do now." 
 
 " I will tell you what you do you show Miss 
 Condit." And Mrs. Ermine presented me her large, 
 foolish face. "If you don't look out, she'll do you 
 up in Morris papers, and then all the Mechlin lace in 
 the world won't matter ! " 
 
228 TALES OF THREE CITIES. [i. 
 
 " I don't follow you at all I never follow you," I 
 said, wishing I could have sketched her just as she 
 sat there. She was quite grotesque. 
 
 " I would rather go without you," she repeated. 
 
 " I think that after I come into my property I 
 shall do just as I do now," said Eunice. " After all, 
 where will the difference be ? I have to-day every- 
 thing I shall ever have. It's more than enough." 
 
 "You won't have to ask Mr. Caliph for every- 
 thing." 
 
 " I ask him for nothing now." 
 
 " Well, my dear," said Mrs. Ermine, " you don't 
 deserve to be rich." 
 
 " I am not rich," Eunice remarked. 
 
 " Ah, well, if you want a million ! " 
 
 " I don't want anything," said Eunice. 
 
 That's not exactly true. She does want some- 
 thing, but I don't know what it is. 
 
 May 2. Mr. Caliph is really very delightful. He 
 made his appearance to-day and carried everything 
 before him. When I say he carried everything, I 
 mean he carried me ; for Eunice had not my prejudices 
 to get over. When I said to her after he had gone, 
 " Your trustee is a very clever man," she only smiled 
 a little, and turned away in silence. I suppose she 
 was amused with the air of importance with which I 
 announced this discovery. Eunice had made it several 
 years ago, and could not be excited about it. I had an 
 idea that some allusion would be made to the way he 
 has neglected her some apology at least for his long 
 absence. But he did something better than this. He 
 made no definite apology; he only expressed, in his 
 manner, his look, his voice, a tenderness, a charming 
 benevolence, which included and exceeded all apologies. 
 
i.] THE IMPRESSIONS OF A COUSIN. 229 
 
 He looks rather tired and preoccupied ; he evidently 
 has a great many irons of his own in the fire, and has 
 been thinking these last weeks of larger questions 
 than the susceptibilities of a little girl in New York 
 who happened several years ago to have an exuberant 
 mother. He is thoroughly genial, and is the best 
 talker I have seen since my return. A totally different 
 type from the young Adrian. He is not in the least 
 handsome is, indeed, rather ugly ; but with a fine, 
 expressive, pictorial ugliness. He is forty years old, 
 large and stout, may even be pronounced fat ; and 
 there is something about him that I don't know how 
 to describe except by calling it a certain richness. I 
 have seen Italians who have it, but this is the first 
 American. He talks with his eyes, as well as with 
 his lips, and his features are wonderfully mobile. His 
 smile is quick and delightful; his hands are well- 
 shaped, but distinctly fat ; he has a pale complexion 
 and a magnificent brown beard the beard of Haroun- 
 al-Easchid. I suppose I must write it very small ; 
 but I have an intimate conviction that he is a Jew, or 
 of Jewish origin. I see that in his plump, white face, 
 of which the tone would please a painter, and which 
 suggests fatigue but is nevertheless all alive ; in his 
 remarkable eye, which is full of old expressions 
 expressions which linger there from the past, even 
 when they are not active to-day ; in his profile, in his 
 anointed beard, in the very rings on his large pointed 
 fingers. There is not a touch of all this in his step- 
 brother ; so I suppose the Jewish blood is inherited from 
 his father. I don't think he looks like a gentleman ; he 
 is something apart from all that. If he is not a gentleman, 
 he is not in the least a bourgeois neither is he of the 
 Bohemian type. In short, as I say, he is a Jew ; and 
 
230 TALES OF THREE CITIES. [i. 
 
 Jews of the upper class have a style of their own. He is 
 very clever, and I think genuinely kind. Nothing could 
 be more charming than his way of talking to Eunice a 
 certain paternal interest mingled with an air of respectful 
 gallantry (he gives her good advice, and at the same time 
 pays her compliments) ; the whole thing being not in 
 the least overdone. I think he found her changed 
 " more of a person," as Mrs. Ermine says; I even think he 
 was a little surprised. She seems slightly afraid of him, 
 which rather surprised me she was, from her own 
 account, so familiar with him of old. He is 'decidedly 
 florid, and was very polite to me ; that was a part of 
 the floridity. He asked if we had seen his step- 
 brother ; begged us to be kind to him and to let him 
 come and see us often. He doesn't know many people 
 in New York, and at that age it is everything (I quote 
 Mr. Caliph) for a young fellow to be at his ease with 
 one or two charming women. " Adrian takes a great 
 deal of knowing; is horribly shy; but is most in- 
 telligent, and has one of the sweetest natures ! I'm 
 very fond of him he's all I've got. Unfortunately 
 the poor boy is cursed with a competence. In this 
 country there is nothing for such a young fellow to do ; 
 he hates business, and has absolutely no talent for it. 
 I shall send him back here the next time I see him." 
 Eunice made no answer to this, and, in fact, had little 
 answer to make to most of Mr. Caliph's remarks, only 
 sitting looking at the floor with a smile. I thought 
 it proper therefore to reply that we had found Mr. 
 Frank very pleasant, and hoped he would soon come 
 again. Then I mentioned that the other day I had 
 had a long visit from him alone ; we had talked for 
 an hour, and become excellent friends. Mr. Caliph, 
 as I said this, was leaning forward with his elbow 
 
i.] THE IMPRESSIONS OF A COUSIN. 231 
 
 on his knee and his hand uplifted, grasping his thick 
 beard. The other hand, with the elbow out, rested on 
 the other knee ; his head was turned toward me, 
 askance. He looked at me a moment with his deep 
 bright eye the eye of a much older man than he ; he 
 might have been posing for a water-colour. If I had 
 painted him, it would have been in a high-peaked cap, 
 and an amber-coloured robe, with a wide girdle of pink 
 silk wound many times round his waist, stuck full of 
 knives with jewelled handles. Our eyes met, and we 
 sat there exchanging a glance. I don't know whether 
 he's vain, but I think he must see I appreciate him ; 
 I am sure he understands everything. 
 
 " I like you when you say that," he remarked at 
 the end of a minute. 
 
 " I am glad to hear you like me ! " This sounds 
 horrid and pert as I relate it. 
 
 " I don't like every one," said Mr. Caliph. 
 
 " Neither do Eunice and I ; do we, Eunice ? " 
 
 " I am afraid we only try to," she answered, 
 smiling her most beautiful smile. 
 
 " Try to ? Heaven forbid ! I protest against that," 
 I cried. I said to Mr. Caliph that Eunice was too 
 good. 
 
 " She comes honestly by that. Your mother was 
 an angel, my child," he said to her. 
 
 Cousin Letitia was not an angel, but I have men- 
 tioned that Mr. Caliph is florid. "You used to be 
 very good to her," Eunice murmured, raising her eyes 
 to him. 
 
 He had got up ; he was standing there. He bent 
 his head, smiling like an Italian. " You must be the 
 same, my child." 
 
 " What can I do ? " Eunice asked. 
 
232 TALES OF THREE CITIES. [i. 
 
 " You can believe in me you can trust me." 
 
 " I do, Mr. Caliph. Try me and see ! " 
 
 This was unexpectedly gushing, and I instinctively 
 turned away. Behind my back, I don't know what 
 he did to her I think it possible he kissed her. 
 When you call a girl "my child," I suppose you may 
 kiss her ; but that may be only my bold imagination. 
 When I turned round he had taken up his hat and 
 stick, to say nothing of buttoning a very tightly-fitting 
 coat round a very spacious person, and was ready to 
 offer me his hand in farewell. 
 
 " I am so glad you are with her. I am so glad 
 she has a companion so accomplished so capable." 
 
 " So capable of what ? " I said, laughing ; for the 
 speech was absurd, as he knows nothing about my 
 accomplishments. 
 
 There is nothing solemn about Mr. Caliph ; but 
 he gave me a look which made it appear to me that 
 my levity was in bad taste. Yes, humiliating as it is 
 to write it here, I found myself rebuked by a Jew 
 with fat hands ! " Capable of advising her well ! " he 
 said softly. 
 
 "Ah, don't talk about advice," Eunice exclaimed. 
 " Ad vice always gives an idea of trouble, and I am 
 very much afraid of trouble." 
 
 " You ought to get married," he said, with his smile 
 coming back to him. 
 
 Eunice coloured and turned away, and I observed 
 to say something that this was just what Mrs. 
 Ermine said. 
 
 " Mrs. Ermine ? ah, I hear she's a charming woman!" 
 And shortly after that he went away. 
 
 That was almost the only weak thing he said the 
 only thing for mere form, for of course no one can 
 
i.J THE IMPRESSIONS OF A COUSIN. 233 
 
 really think her charming ; least of all a clever man 
 like that. I don't like Americans to resemble Italians, 
 or Italians to resemble Americans ; but putting that 
 aside, Mr Caliph is very prepossessing. He is wonder- 
 fully good company ; he will spoil us for other people. 
 He made no allusion to business, and no appointment 
 with Eunice for talking over certain matters that are 
 pending ; but I thought of this only half an hour after 
 he had gone. I said nothing to Eunice about it, for 
 she would have noticed the omission herself, and that 
 was enough. The only other point in Mr. Caliph that 
 was open to criticism is his asking Eunice to believe 
 in him to trust him. Why shouldn't she, pray ? If 
 that speech was curious and, strange to say, it almost 
 appeared so it was incredibly naif. But this quality 
 is insupposable of Mr. Caliph; who ever heard of a 
 naif Jew ? After he had gone I was on the point of 
 saying to Eunice, " By the way, why did you never 
 mention that he is a Hebrew ? That's an important 
 detail." But an impulse that I am not able to define 
 stopped me, and now I am glad I didn't speak. I 
 don't believe Eunice ever made the discovery, and I 
 don't think she would like it if she did make it. That 
 I should have done so on the instant only proves that 
 I am in the habit of studying the human profile ! 
 
 May 9. Mrs. Ermine must have discovered that Mr. 
 Caliph has heard she is charming, for she is perpetually 
 coming in here with the hope of meeting him. She 
 appears to think that he comes every day ; for when 
 she misses him, which she has done three times (that is, 
 she arrives just after he goes), she says that if she 
 doesn't catch him on the morrow she will go and call 
 upon him. She is capable of that, I think ; and it 
 makes no difference that he is the busiest of men and 
 
234 TALES OF THEEE CITIES. [r. 
 
 she the idlest of women. He has been here four times 
 since his first call, and has the air of wishing to 
 make up for the neglect that preceded it. His manner 
 to Eunice is perfect; he continues to call her "my 
 child," but in a superficial, impersonal way, as a 
 Catholic priest might do it. He tells us stories of 
 Washington, describes the people there, and makes us 
 wonder whether we should care for K Street and 14^ 
 Street. As yet, to the best of my knowledge, not a 
 word about Eunice's affairs ; he behaves as if he had 
 simply forgotten them. It was, after all, not out of 
 place the other day to ask her to " believe in him ; " 
 the faith wouldn't come as a matter of course. On the 
 other hand he is so pleasant that one would believe in 
 him just to oblige him. He has a great deal of trust- 
 business, and a great deal of law-business of every kind. 
 So at least he says ; we really know very little about 
 him but what he tells us. When I say " we," of course 
 I speak mainly for myself, as I am perpetually forget- 
 ting that he is not so new to Eunice as he is to me. 
 She knows what she knows, but I only know what I 
 see. I have been wondering a good deal what is 
 thought of Mr. Caliph " down-town," as they say here, 
 but without much result, for naturally I can't go down- 
 town and see. The appearance of the thing prevents 
 my asking questions about him ; it would be very com- 
 promising to Eunice, and make people think that she 
 complains of him which is so far from being the case. 
 She likes him just as he is, and is apparently quite 
 satisfied. I gather, moreover, that he is thought very 
 brilliant, though a little peculiar, and that he has made 
 a great deal of money. He has a way of his own of 
 doing things, and carries imagination and humour, and 
 a sense of the beautiful, into Wall Street and the Stock 
 
i.] THE IMPEESSIONS OF A COUSIN. 235 
 
 Exchange. Mrs. Ermine announced the other day that 
 he is "considered the most fascinating man in New 
 York;" but that is the romantic up-town view of him, 
 and not what I want. His brother has gone out of 
 town for a few days, but he continues to recommend 
 the young Adrian to our hospitality. There is some- 
 thing really touching in his relation to that rather 
 limited young man. 
 
 May 11. Mrs. Ermine is in high spirits; she has 
 met Mr. Caliph I don't know where and she quite 
 confirms the up-town view. She thinks him the most 
 fascinating man she has ever seen, and she wonders 
 that we should have said so little about him. He is 
 so handsome, so high-bred ; his manners are so perfect ; 
 he's a regular old dear. I think, of course ill-naturedly, 
 several degrees less well of him since I have heard Mrs. 
 Ermine's impressions. He is not handsome, he is not 
 high-bred, and his manners are not perfect. They are 
 original, and they are expressive ; and if one likes him 
 there is an interest in looking for what he will do and 
 say. But if one should happen to dislike him, one 
 would detest his manners and think them familiar and 
 vulgar. As for breeding, he has about him, indeed, 
 the marks of antiquity of race ; yet I don't think Mrs. 
 Ermine would have liked ine to say, " Oh yes, all Jews 
 have blood ! " Besides, I couldn't before Eunice. Per- 
 haps I consider Eunice too much ; perhaps I am be- 
 trayed by my old habit of trying to see through mill- 
 stones ; perhaps I interpret things too richly just as 
 (I know) when I try to paint an old wall I attempt to 
 put in too much " character ; " character being in old 
 walls, after all, a finite quantity. At any rate she seems 
 to me rather nervous about Mr. Caliph : that appeared 
 after a little when Mrs. Ermine came back to the sub- 
 
236 TALES OF THREE CITIES. [i. 
 
 ject. She had a great deal to say about the oddity of 
 her never having seen him before, of old, " for after 
 all," as she remarked, " we move in the same society 
 he moves in the very best." She used to hear Eunice 
 talk about her trustee, but she supposed a trustee must 
 be some horrid old man with a lot of papers in his 
 hand, sitting all day in an office. She never supposed 
 he was a prince in disguise. " We've got a trustee 
 somewhere, only I never see him ; my husband does 
 all the business. No wonder he keeps him out of the 
 way if he resembles Mr. Caliph." And then suddenly 
 she said to Eunice, " My dear, why don't you marry 
 him ? I should think you would want to." Mrs. 
 Ermine doesn't look through millstones ; she contents 
 herself with giving them a poke with her parasol. 
 Eunice coloured, and said she hadn't been asked ; she 
 was evidently not pleased with Mrs. Ermine's joke, 
 which was of course as flat as you like. Then she 
 added in a moment " I should be very sorry to marry 
 Mr. Caliph, even if he were to ask me. I like him, 
 but I don't like him enough for that." 
 
 " I should think he would be quite in your style 
 he's so literary. They say he writes," Mrs. Ermine 
 went on. 
 
 " Well, I don't write," Eunice answered, laughing. 
 
 " You could if you would try. I'm sure you could 
 make a lovely book." Mrs. Ermine's amiability is 
 immense. 
 
 " It's safe for you to say that you never read." 
 
 "I have no time," said Mrs. Ermine, "but I like 
 literary conversation. It saves time, when it comes in 
 that way. Mr. Caliph has ever so much." 
 
 " He keeps it for you. With us he is very frivol- 
 ous," I ventured to observe. 
 
I.] THE IMPRESSIONS OF A COUSIN. 237 
 
 " Well, what you call frivolous ! I believe you 
 think the prayer-book frivolous." 
 
 "Mr. Caliph will never marry any one," Eunice 
 said, after a moment. " That I am very sure of." 
 
 Mrs. Ermine stared ; there never is so little expres- 
 sion in her face as when she is surprised. But she 
 soon recovered herself. " Don't you believe that ! He 
 will take some quiet little woman, after you have all 
 given him up." 
 
 Eunice was sitting at the piano, but had wheeled 
 round on the stool when her cousin came in. She 
 turned back to it and struck a few vague chords, as if 
 she were feeling for something. " Please don't speak 
 that way; I don't like it," she said, as she went on 
 playing. 
 
 " I will speak any way you like ! " Mrs. Ermine 
 cried, with her vacant laugh. 
 
 " I think it very low." For Eunice this was severe. 
 " Girls are not always thinking about marriage. They 
 are not always thinking of people like Mr. Caliph 
 that way." 
 
 " They must have changed then, since my time ! 
 Wasn't it so in yours, Miss Condit ? " She's so stupid 
 that I don't think she meant to make a point. 
 
 "I had no 'time,' Mrs. Ermine. I was born an 
 old maid." 
 
 " Well, the old maids are the worst. I don't see 
 why it's low to talk about marriage. It's thought 
 very respectable to marry. You have only to look 
 round you." 
 
 " I don't want to look round me ; it's not always 
 so beautiful, what you see," Eunice said, witli a small 
 laugh and a good deal of perversity, for a young 
 woman so reasonable. 
 
238 TALES OF THREE CITIES. [i. 
 
 " I guess you read too much," said Mrs. Ermine, 
 getting up and setting her bonnet-ribbons at the mirror. 
 
 " I should think he would hate them ! " Eunice 
 exclaimed, striking her chords. 
 
 " Hate who ? " her cousin asked. 
 
 " Oh, all the silly girls." 
 
 " Who is ' he/ pray ? " This ingenious inquiry was 
 mine. 
 
 "Oh, the Grand Turk!" said Eunice, with her 
 voice covered by the sound of her piano. Her piano 
 is a great resource. 
 
 May 12. This afternoon, while we were having 
 our tea, the Grand Turk was ushered in, carrying the 
 most wonderful bouquet of Boston roses that seraglio 
 ever produced. (That image, by the way, is rather 
 mixed ; but as I write for myself alone, it may stand.) 
 At the end of ten minutes he asked Eunice if he 
 might see her alone " on a little matter of business." 
 I instantly rose to leave them, but Eunice said that 
 she would rather talk with him in the library ; so she 
 led him off to that apartment. I remained in the 
 drawing-room, saying to myself that I had at last 
 discovered the fin mot of Mr. Caliph's peculiarities, 
 which is so very simple that I am a great goose not 
 to have perceived it before. He is a man with a 
 system ; and his system is simply to keep business 
 and entertainment perfectly distinct. There may be 
 pleasure for him in his figures, but there are no figures 
 in his pleasure which has hitherto been to call upon 
 Eunice as a man of the world. To-day he was to be 
 the trustee ; I could see it in spite of his bouquet, as 
 soon as he came in. The Boston roses didn't con- 
 tradict that, for the excellent reason that as soon as 
 he had shaken hands with Eunice, who looked at the 
 
i.] THE IMPBESSIONS OF A COUSIN. 239 
 
 flowers and not at him, he presented them to Catherine 
 Condit. Eunice then looked at this lady ; and as I 
 took the roses I met her eyes, which had a charming 
 light of pleasure. It would he base in me, even in 
 this strictly private record, to suggest that she might 
 possibly have been displeased ; but if I cannot say 
 that the expression of her face was lovely without 
 appearing in some degree to point to an ignoble alter- 
 native, it is the fault of human nature. Why Mr. 
 Caliph should suddenly think it necessary to offer 
 flowers to Catherine Condit that is a line of inquiry 
 by itself. As I said some time back, it's a part of his 
 floridity. Besides, any presentation of flowers seems 
 sudden ; I don't know why, but it's always rather a 
 coup de thMtre. I am writing late at night; they 
 stand on my table, and their fragrance is in the air. 
 I don't say it for the flowers, but no one has ever 
 treated poor Miss Condit with such consistent con- 
 sideration as Mr. Caliph. Perhaps she is morbid : 
 this is probably the Diary of a Morbid Woman ; but 
 in such a matter as that she admires consistency. 
 That little glance of Eunice comes back to me as I 
 write ; she is a pure, enchanting soul. Mrs. Ermine 
 came in while she was in the library with Mr. Caliph, 
 and immediately noticed the Boston roses, which effaced 
 all the other flowers in the room. 
 
 " Were they sent from her seat ? " she asked. 
 Then, before I could answer, " I am going to have 
 some people to dinner to-day ; they would look very 
 well in the middle." 
 
 "If you wish me to offer them to you, I really 
 can't ; I prize them too much." 
 
 " Oh, are they yours ? Of course you prize them I 
 I don't suppose you have many." 
 
240 TALES OF THREE CITIES. [i. 
 
 " These are the first I have ever received from 
 Mr. Caliph." 
 
 " From Mr. Caliph ? Did he give them to you ? " 
 Mrs. Ermine's intonations are not delicate. That 
 "you" should be in enormous capitals. 
 
 " "With his own hand a quarter of an hour ago." 
 This sounds triumphant, as I write it ; but it was no 
 great sensation to triumph over Mrs. Ermine. 
 
 She laid down the bouquet, looking almost thought- 
 ful. " He does want to marry Eunice," she declared 
 in a moment. This is the region in which, after a 
 flight of fancy, she usually alights. I am sick of the 
 irrepressible verb ; just at that moment, however, it 
 was unexpected, and I answered that I didn't under- 
 stand. 
 
 " That's why he gives you flowers," she explained. 
 But the explanation made the matter darker still, and 
 Mrs. Ermine went on : " Isn't there some French 
 proverb about paying one's court to the mother in 
 order to gain the daughter ? Eunice is the daughter, 
 and you are the mother." 
 
 " And you are the grandmother, I suppose ! Do 
 you mean that he wishes me to intercede ? " 
 
 " I can't imagine why else ! " and smiling, with her 
 wide lips, she stared at the flowers. 
 
 " At that rate you too will get your bouquet," I said. 
 
 " Oh, I have no influence ! You ought to do some- 
 thing in return to offer to paint his portrait." 
 
 " I don't offer that, you know ; people ask me. 
 Besides, you have spoiled me for common models ! " 
 
 It strikes me, as I write this, that we had gone 
 rather far farther than it seemed at the time. We 
 might have gone farther yet, however, if at this mo- 
 ment Eunice had not come back with Mr. Caliph, who 
 
r.] THE IMPRESSIONS OF A COUSIN. 241 
 
 appeared to have settled his little matter of business 
 briskly enough. He remained the man of business to 
 the end, and, to Mrs. Ermine's evident disappointment, 
 declined to sit down again. He was in a hurry; he 
 had an engagement. 
 
 " Are you going up or down ? I have a carriage at 
 the door," she broke in. 
 
 "At Fifty- third Street one is usually going down;" 
 and he gave his peculiar smile, which always seems 
 so much beyond the scope of the words it accompanies. 
 " If you will give me a lift I shall be very grateful." 
 
 He went off with her, she being much divided 
 between the prospect of driving with him and her loss 
 of the chance to find out what he had been saying to 
 Eunice. She probably believed he had been proposing 
 to her, and I hope he mystified her well in the 
 carriage. 
 
 He had not been proposing to Eunice; he had 
 given her a cheque, and made her sign some papers. 
 The cheque was for a thousand dollars, but I have no 
 knowledge of the papers. When I took up my abode 
 with her I made up my mind that the only way to 
 preserve an appearance of disinterestedness was to 
 know nothing whatever of the details of her pecuniary 
 affairs. She has a very good little head of her own, 
 and if she shouldn't understand them herself it would 
 be quite out of my power to help her. I don't know 
 why I should care about appearing disinterested, when 
 I have in quite sufficient measure the consciousness of 
 being so ; but in point of fact I do, and I value that 
 purity as much as any other. Besides, Mr. Caliph is 
 her supreme adviser, and of course makes everything 
 clear to her. At least I hope he does. I couldn't 
 help saying as much as this to Eunice. 
 
 K 
 
242 TALES OF THREE CITIES. [i. 
 
 "My dear child, I suppose you understand what 
 you sign. Mr. Caliph ought to be what shall I call 
 it ? crystalline." 
 
 She looked at me with the smile that had come 
 into her face when she saw him give me the flowers. 
 " Oh yes, I think so. If I didn't, it's my own fault. 
 He explains everything so beautifully that it's a 
 pleasure to listen. I always read what I sign." 
 
 " Je 1'espere bien ! " I said, laughing. 
 
 She looked a little grave. " The closing up a trust 
 is very complicated." 
 
 " Yours is not closed yet ? It strikes me as very 
 slow." 
 
 " Everything can't be done at once. Besides, he 
 has asked for a little delay. Part of my affairs, 
 indeed, are now in my own hands ; otherwise I 
 shouldn't have to sign." 
 
 " Is that a usual request for delay ? " 
 
 " Oh yes, perfectly. Besides, I don't want every- 
 thing in my own control. That is, I want it some day, 
 because I think I ought to accept the responsibilities, 
 as I accept all the pleasures ; but I am not in a hurry. 
 This way is so comfortable, and Mr. Caliph takes so 
 much trouble for me." 
 
 " I suppose he has a handsome commission," I said, 
 rather crudely. 
 
 "He has no commission at all; he would never 
 take one." 
 
 " In your place, I would much rather he should 
 take one." 
 
 " I have asked him to, but he won't !" Eunice said, 
 looking now extremely grave. 
 
 Her gravity indeed was so great that it made me 
 smile. " He is wonderfully generous ! " 
 
i.] THE IMPEESSIONS OF A COUSIN. 243 
 
 " He is indeed." 
 
 "And is it to be indefinitely delayed the termi- 
 nation of his trust ? " 
 
 " Oh no ; only a few months, ' till he gets things 
 into shape/ as he says." 
 
 " He has had several years for that, hasn't he ? " 
 
 Eunice turned away; evidently our talk was pain- 
 ful to her. But there was something that vaguely 
 alarmed me in her taking, or at least accepting, the 
 sentimental view of Mr. Caliph's services. "I don't 
 think you are kind, Catherine ; you seem to suspect 
 him," she remarked, after a little. 
 
 " Suspect him of what ? " 
 
 " Of not wishing to give up the property." 
 
 " My dear Eunice, you put things into terrible 
 words ! Seriously, I should never think of suspecting 
 him of anything so silly. What could his wishes 
 count for ? Is not the thing regulated by law by 
 the terms of your mother's will? The trust expires 
 of itself at a certain period, doesn't it ? Mr. Caliph, 
 surely, has only to act accordingly." 
 
 " It is just what he is doing. But there are more 
 papers necessary, and they will not be ready for a few 
 weeks more." 
 
 " Don't have too many papers ; they are as bad as 
 too few. And take advice of some one else say of 
 your cousin Ermine, who is so much more sensible 
 than his wife." 
 
 " I want no advice," said Eunice, in a tone which 
 showed me that I had said enough. And presently 
 she went on, " I thought you liked Mr. Caliph." 
 
 " So I clo, immensely. He gives beautiful flowers." 
 
 " Ah, you are horrid ! " she murmured. 
 
 " Of course I am horrid. That's my business to 
 
244 TALES OF THREE CITIES. [i. 
 
 be horrid." And I took the liberty of being so again, 
 half an hour later, when she remarked that she must 
 take good care of the cheque Mr. Caliph had brought 
 her, as it would be a good while before she should 
 have another. " Why should it be longer than usual ? " 
 I asked. " Is he going to keep your income for 
 himself ? " 
 
 " I am not to have any till the end of the year 
 any from the trust, at least. Mr. Caliph has been 
 converting some old houses into shops, so that they 
 will bring more rent. But the alterations have to be 
 paid for and he takes part of my income to do it." 
 
 " And pray what are you to live on meanwhile ? " 
 
 " I have enough without that ; and I have savings." 
 
 " It strikes me as a cool proceeding, all the same." 
 
 "He wrote to me about it before we came home, 
 and I thought that way was best." 
 
 " I don't think he ought to have asked you," I said, 
 " As your trustee, he acts in his discretion." 
 
 " You are hard to please," Eunice answered. 
 
 That is perfectly true; but I rejoined that I couldn't 
 make out whether he consulted her too much or too 
 little. And I don't know that my failure to make it 
 out in the least matters ! 
 
 May 13. Mrs. Ermine turned up to-day at an 
 earlier hour than usual, and I saw as soon as she got 
 into the room that she had something to announce. 
 This time it was not an engagement. "He sent me 
 a bouquet Boston roses quite as many as yours! 
 They arrived this morning, before I had finished 
 breakfast." This speech was addressed to me, and 
 Mrs. Ermine looked almost brilliant. Eunice scarcely 
 followed her. 
 
 " She is talking about Mr. Caliph," I explained. 
 
I.] THE IMPEESSIONS OF A COUSIN. 245 
 
 Eunice stared a moment ; then her face melted into 
 a deep little smile. "He seems to give flowers to 
 every one but to me." I could see that this reflection 
 gave her remarkable pleasure. 
 
 "Well, when he gives them, he's thinking of you," 
 said Mrs Ermine. " He wants to get us on his side." 
 
 " On his side ? " 
 
 " Oh yes; some day he will have need of us ! " And 
 Mrs. Ermine tried to look sprightly and insinuating. 
 But she is too utterly fade, and I think it is not worth 
 while to talk any more to Eunice just now about her 
 trustee. So, to anticipate Mrs. Ermine, I said to her 
 quickly, but very quietly 
 
 "He sent you flowers simply because you had 
 taken him into your carriage last night. It was an 
 acknowledgment of your great kindness." 
 
 She hesitated a moment. " Possibly. We had a 
 charming drive ever so far down -town." Then, 
 turning to Eunice, she exclaimed, " My dear, you don't 
 know that man till you have had a drive with him ! " 
 When does one know Mrs. Ermine ? Every day she 
 is a surprise ! 
 
 May 19. Adrian Frank has come back to New 
 York, and has been three times at this house once 
 to dinner, and twice at tea-time. After his brother's 
 strong expression of the hope that we should take an 
 interest in him, Eunice appears to have thought that 
 the least she could do was to ask him to dine. She 
 appears never to have offered this privilege to Mr. 
 Caliph, by the way ; I think her view of his cleverness 
 is such that she imagines she knows no one sufficiently 
 brilliant to be invited to meet him. She thought Mrs. 
 Ermine good enough to meet Mr. Frank, and she had 
 also young Woodley Wiljie Woodley, as they call 
 
246 TALES OF THREE CITIES. [i. 
 
 him and Mr. Latrobe. It was not very amusing. 
 Mrs. Ermine made love to Mr. Woodley, who took it 
 serenely ; and the dark Latrobe talked to me about the 
 Seventh Eegiment an impossible subject. Mr. Frank 
 made an occasional remark to Eunice, next whom he 
 was placed ; but he seemed constrained and frightened, 
 as if he knew that his step-brother had recommended 
 him highly and felt it was impossible to come up to 
 the mark. He is really very modest ; it is impossible 
 not to like him. Every now and then he looked at 
 me, with his clear blue eye conscious and expanded, as 
 if to beg me to help him on with Eunice ; and then, 
 when I threw in a word, to give their conversation a 
 push, he looked at her in the same way, as if to express 
 the hope that she would not abandon him. There was 
 no danger of this, she only wished to be agreeable to 
 him ; but she was nervous and preoccupied, as she 
 always is when she has people to dinner she is so afraid 
 they may be bored and I think that half the time- 
 she didn't understand what he said. She told me 
 afterwards that she liked him more even than she liked 
 him at first ; that he has, in her opinion, better man- 
 ners, in spite of his shyness, than any of the young 
 men ; and that he must have a nice nature to have such 
 a charming face ; all this she told me, and she added 
 that, notwithstanding all this, there is something in 
 Mr. Adrian Frank that makes her uncomfortable. It 
 is perhaps rather heartless, but after this, when he 
 called two days ago, I went out of the room and left 
 them alone together. The truth is, there is something 
 in this tall, fair, vague, inconsequent youth, who would 
 look like a Prussian lieutenant if Prussian lieutenants 
 ever hesitated, and who is such a singular mixture of 
 confusion and candour there is something about him 
 
I.] THE IMniESSIONS OF A COUSIN. 247 
 
 that is not altogether to my own taste, and that is why 
 I took the liberty of leaving him. Oddly enough, I 
 don't in the least know what it is ; I usually know why 
 I dislike people. I don't dislike the blushing Adrian, 
 however that is, after all, the oddest part. No, the 
 oddest part of it is that I think I have a feeling of 
 pity for him ; that is probably why (if it were not my 
 duty sometimes to remain) I should always depart 
 when he comes. I don't like to see the people I pity ; 
 to be pitied by me is too low a depth. Why I should 
 lavish my compassion on Mr. Frank of course passes 
 my comprehension. He is young, intelligent, in perfect 
 health, master of a handsome fortune, and favourite 
 brother of Haroun-al-Easchid. Such are the conse- 
 quences of being a woman of imagination. When, at 
 dinner, I asked Eunice if he had been as interesting as 
 usual, she said she would leave it to me to judge ; he 
 had talked altogether about Miss Condit ! He thinks 
 her very attractive ! Poor fellow, when it is necessary 
 he doesn't hesitate, though I can't imagine why it 
 should be necessary. I think that au fond he bores 
 Eunice a little ; like many girls of the delicate, sensi- 
 tive kind, she likes older, more confident men. 
 
 May 24. He has just made me a remarkable com- 
 munication ! This morning I went into the Park in 
 quest of a "bit," with some colours and brushes in 
 a small box, and that wonderfully compressible camp- 
 stool which I can carry in my pocket. I wandered 
 vaguely enough, for half an hour, through the carefully- 
 arranged scenery, the idea of which appears to be to repre- 
 sent the earth's surface en raccourci, and at last discovered 
 a small clump of birches which, with their white stems 
 and their little raw green bristles, were not altogether 
 The place was quiet there were no 
 
248 TALES OF THREE CITIES. [i. 
 
 nurse-maids nor bicycles ; so I took up a position and 
 enjoyed an hour's successful work. At last I heard 
 some one say behind me, " I think I ought to tell you 
 I'm looking ! " It was Adrian Frank, who had recog- 
 nised me at a distance, and, without my hearing him, 
 had walked across the grass to where I sat. This time 
 I couldn't leave him, for I hadn't finished my sketch. 
 He sat down near me, on an artistically-preserved 
 rock, and we ended by having a good deal of talk in 
 which, however, I did the listening, for I can't express 
 myself in two ways at once. What I listened to was 
 this that Mr. Caliph wishes his step-brother to "make 
 up" to Eunice, and that the candid Adrian wishes to 
 know what I think of his chances. 
 
 " Are you in love with her ? " I asked. 
 
 " Oh dear, no ! If I were in love with her I should 
 
 go straight in, without without this sort of thing." 
 
 " You mean without asking people's opinion ? " 
 
 " "Well, yes. Without even asking yours." 
 
 I told him that he needn't say " even " mine ; for 
 
 mine would not be worth much. His announcement 
 
 rather startled me at first, but after I had thought of 
 
 it a little, I found in it a good deal to admire. I have 
 
 seen so many " arranged " marriages that have been 
 
 happy, and so many " sympathetic " unions that have 
 
 been wretched, that the political element doesn't 
 
 altogether shock me. Of course I can't imagine Eunice 
 
 making a political marriage, and I said to Mr. Frank, 
 
 very promptly, that she might consent if she could be 
 
 induced to love him, but would never be governed in 
 
 her choice by his advantages. I said " advantages " in 
 
 order to be polite ; the singular number would have 
 
 served all the purpose. His only advantage is his 
 
 fortune; for he has neither looks, talents, nor position 
 
I.] THE IMPRESSIONS OF A COUSIN. 249 
 
 that would dazzle a girl who is herself clever and rich. 
 This, then, is what Mr. Caliph has had in his head all 
 this while- this is what has made him so anxious that 
 we should like his step-brother. I have an idea that 
 I ought to be rather scandalised, but I feel my pulse 
 and find that I am almost pleased. I don't mean at 
 the idea of her marrying poor Mr. Frank ; I mean at 
 such an indication that Mr. Caliph takes an interest in 
 her. I don't know whether it is one of the regular 
 duties of a trustee to provide the trustful with a 
 husband ; perhaps in that case his merit may be less. 
 I suppose he has said to himself that if she marries 
 his step-brother she won't marry a worse man. Of 
 course it is possible that he may not have thought 
 of Eunice at all, and may simply have wished the 
 guileless Adrian to do a good thing without regard to 
 Eunice's point of view. I am afraid that even this 
 idea doesn't shock me. Trying to make people marry 
 is, under any circumstances, an unscrupulous game; 
 but the offence is minimised when it is a question of 
 an honest man marrying an angel. Eunice is the angel, 
 and the young Adrian has all the air of being honest. 
 It would, naturally, not be the union of her secret 
 dreams, for the hero of those pure visions would have 
 to be clever and distinguished. Mr. Frank is neither 
 of these things, but I believe he is perfectly good. Of 
 course he is weak to come and take a wife simply 
 because his brother has told him to or is he doing- 
 it simply for form, believing that she will never have 
 him, that he consequently doesn't expose himself, and 
 that he will therefore have on easy terms, since he 
 seems to value it, the credit of having obeyed Mr. 
 Caliph ? Why he should value it is a matter between 
 themselves, which I am not obliged to know. I don't 
 
250 TALES OF THEEE CITIES. [r. 
 
 think I care at all for the relations of men between 
 themselves. Their relations with women are bad 
 enough, but when there is no woman to save it a little 
 merci ! I shouldn't think that the young Adrian 
 would care to subject himself to a simple refusal, for 
 it is not gratifying to receive the cold shoulder, even 
 from a woman you don't want to marry. After all, he 
 may want to marry her ; there are all sorts of reasons 
 in things. I told him I wouldn't undertake to do 
 anything, and the more I think of it the less I am 
 willing. It would be a weight off my mind to see her 
 comfortably settled in life, beyond the possibility of 
 marrying some highly varnished brute a fate in cer- 
 tain circumstances quite open to her. She is perfectly 
 capable with her folded angel's wings of bestowing 
 herself upon the baker, upon the fishmonger, if she 
 were to take a fancy to him. The clever man of her 
 dreams might beat her or get tired of her; but I am 
 sure that Mr. Frank, if he should pronounce his 
 marriage-vows, would keep them to the letter. From 
 that to pushing her into his arms, however, is a long 
 way. I went so far as to tell him that he had my 
 good wishes ; but I made him understand that I can 
 give him no help. He sat for some time poking a 
 hole in the earth with his stick and watching the opera- 
 tion. Then he said, with his wide, exaggerated smile 
 the one thing in his face that recalls his brother, 
 though it is so different " I think I should like to 
 try." I felt rather sorry for him, and made him talk 
 of something else ; and we separated without his 
 alluding to Eunice, though at the last he looked at me 
 for a moment intently, with something on his lips, 
 which was probably a return to his idea. I stopped 
 him ; I told him I always required solitude for my 
 
I.] THE IMPRESSIONS OF A COUSIN. 251 
 
 finishing-touches. He thinks me "brusque and queer, 
 but he went away. I don't know what he means to 
 do; I am curious to see whether he will begin his 
 siege. It can scarcely be said, as yet, to have begun 
 Eunice, at any rate, is all unconscious. 
 
 June 6. Her unconsciousness is being rapidly dis- 
 pelled; Mr. Frank has been here every day since I 
 last wrote. He is a singular youth, and I don't make 
 him out ; I think there is more in him than I sup- 
 posed at first. He doesn't bore us, and he has be- 
 come, to a certain extent, one of the family. I like 
 him very much, and he excites my curiosity. I don't 
 quite see where he expects to come out. I mentioned 
 some time back that Eunice had told me he made her 
 uncomfortable ; and now, if that continues, she appears 
 to have resigned herself. He has asked her repeatedly 
 to drive with him, and twice she has consented; he 
 has a very pretty pair of horses, and a vehicle that 
 holds but two persons. I told him I could give him 
 no positive help, but I do leave them together. Of 
 course Eunice has noticed this it is the only inti- 
 mation I have given her that I am aware of his 
 intentions. I have constantly expected her to say 
 something, but she has said nothing, and it is possible 
 that Mr. Frank is making an impression. He makes 
 love very reasonably; evidently his idea is to be 
 intensely gradual. Of course it isn't gradual to come 
 every day ; but he does very little on any one 
 occasion. That, at least, is my impression ; for when 
 I talk of his making love I don't mean that I see it. 
 When the three of us are together he talks to me 
 quite as much as to her, and there is no difference in 
 his manner from one of us to the other. His shyness 
 is wearing off, and he blushes so much less that I 
 
252 TALES OF THREE CITIES. [i. 
 
 have discovered his natural hue. It has several 
 shades less of crimson than I supposed. I have 
 taken care that he should not see me alone, for I 
 don't wish him to talk to me of what he is doing I 
 wish to have nothing to say about it. He has looked 
 at me several times in the same way in which he 
 looked just before we parted, that day he found me 
 sketching in the Park ; that is, as if he wished to 
 have some special understanding with me. But I 
 don't want a special understanding, and I pretend riot 
 to see his looks. I don't exactly see why Eunice 
 doesn't speak to me, and why she expresses no sur- 
 prise at Mr. Frank's sudden devotion. Perhaps Mr. 
 Caliph has notified her, and she is prepared for every- 
 thing prepared even to accept the young Adrian. I 
 have an idea he will be rather taken in if she does. 
 Perhaps the day will come soon when I shall think it 
 well to say: " Take care, take care ; you may succeed !" 
 He improves on acquaintance ; he knows a great many 
 things, and he is a gentleman to his finger-tips. We 
 talk very often about Rome ; he has made out every 
 inscription for himself, and has got them all written 
 down in a little book. He brought it the other after- 
 noon and read some of them out to us, and it was 
 more amusing than it may sound. I listen to such 
 things because I can listen to anything about Eome ; 
 and Eunice listens possibly because Mr. Caliph has 
 told her to. She appears ready to do anything he 
 tells her ; he has been sending her some more papers 
 to sign. He has not been here since the day he 
 gave me the flowers; we went back to Washington 
 shortly after that. She has received several letters 
 from him, accompanying documents that look very 
 legal. She has said nothing to me about them, and 
 
ii.] THE IMPRESSIONS OF A COUSIN. 253 
 
 since I uttered those words of warning which I noted 
 here at the time, I have asked no questions and 
 offered no criticism. Sometimes I wonder whether I 
 myself had not "better speak to Mr. Ermine ; it is only 
 the fear of being idiotic and meddlesome that restrains 
 ine. It seems to me so odd there should be no one 
 else ; Mr. Caliph appears to have everything in his 
 own hands. We are to go down to our "seat," as 
 Mrs. Ermine says, next week. That brilliant woman 
 has left town herself, like many other people, and is 
 staying with one of her daughters. Then she is going 
 to the other, and then she is coming to Eunice, at 
 Corner ville. 
 
 II. 
 
 June 8. Late this afternoon about an hour before 
 dinner Mr. Frank arrived with what Mrs. Ermine 
 calls his equipage, and asked her to take a short drive 
 with him. At first she declined said it was too hot, 
 too late, she was too tired ; but he seemed very much 
 in earnest and begged her to think better of it. She 
 consented at last, and when she had left the room to 
 arrange herself, he turned to me with a little grin of 
 elation. I saw he was going to say something about 
 his prospects, and I determined, this time, to give him 
 a chance. Besides, I was curious to know how he 
 believed himself to be getting on. To my surprise, 
 he disappointed my curiosity ; he only said, with his 
 timid brightness, " I am always so glad when I carry 
 my point." 
 
 "Your point? Oh yes. I think I know what 
 you mean." 
 
 " It's what I told you that day." He seemed 
 
254 TALES OF THKEE CITIES. [n. 
 
 slightly surprised that I should be iii doubt as to 
 whether he had really presented himself as a lover. 
 
 " Do you mean to ask her to marry you ? " 
 
 He stared a little, looking graver. " Do you mean 
 to-day ? " 
 
 " Well, yes, to-day, for instance ; you have urged 
 her so to drive." 
 
 " I don't think I will do it to-day ; it's too soon." 
 
 His gravity was natural enough, I suppose ; but it 
 had suddenly become so intense that the effect was 
 comical, and I could not help laughing. " Very good ; 
 whenever you please." 
 
 " Don't you think it's too soon ? " he asked. 
 
 " Ah, I know nothing about it." 
 
 " I have seen her alone only four or five times." 
 
 " You must go on as you think best," I said. 
 
 " It's hard to tell. My position is very difficult." 
 And then he began to smile again. He is certainly 
 very odd. 
 
 It is my fault, I suppose, that I am too impatient 
 of what I don't understand; and I don't understand 
 this odd mixture of calculation and passion, or the 
 singular alternation of Mr. Frank's confessions and 
 reserves. " I can't enter into your position," I said ; 
 " I can't advise you or help you in any way." Even 
 to myself my voice sounded a little hard as I spoke, 
 and he was evidently discomposed by it. 
 
 He blushed as usual, and fell to putting on his 
 gloves. " I think a great deal of your opinion, and 
 for several clays I have wanted to ask you." 
 
 " Yes, I have seen that." 
 
 " How have you seen it ? " 
 
 " By the way you have looked at me." 
 
 He hesitated a moment. "Yes, I have looked at 
 
ii.] THE IMPRESSIONS OF A COUSIN. 255 
 
 you I know that. There is a great deal in your 
 face to see." 
 
 This remark, under the circumstances, struck me 
 as absurd ; I began to laugh again. " You speak of 
 it as if it were a collection of curiosities." He looked 
 away now, he wouldn't meet my eye, and I saw that 
 I had made him feel thoroughly uncomfortable. To 
 lead the conversation back into the commonplace, I 
 asked him where he intended to drive. 
 
 " It doesn't matter much where we go it's so 
 pretty everywhere now." He was evidently not 
 thinking of his drive, and suddenly he broke out, " I 
 want to know whether you think she likes me." 
 
 " I haven't the least idea. She hasn't told me." 
 
 "Do you think she knows that I mean to propose 
 to her ? " 
 
 "You ought to be able to judge of that better 
 than I." 
 
 " I am afraid of taking too much for granted ; also 
 of taking her by surprise." 
 
 " So that in her agitation she might accept 
 you ? Is that what you are afraid of ? " 
 
 " I don't know what makes you say that. I wish 
 her to accept me." 
 
 " Are you very sure ? " 
 
 "Perfectly sure. Why not? She is a charming 
 creature." 
 
 " So much the better, then ; perhaps she will." 
 
 " You don't believe it," he exclaimed, as if it were 
 very clever of him to have discovered that. 
 
 " You think too much of what I believe. That has 
 not! ling to do with the matter." 
 
 " No, I suppose not," said Mr. Frank, apparently 
 wishing very much to agree with me. 
 
256 TALES OF THREE CITIES. [n. 
 
 " You had better find out as soon as possible from 
 Eunice herself," I added. 
 
 " I haven't expected to know for some time." 
 
 " Do you mean for a year or two ? She will be 
 ready to tell you before that." 
 
 " Oh no not a year or two ; but a few weeks." 
 
 "You know you come to the house every day. 
 You ought to explain to her." 
 
 " Perhaps I had better not come so often." 
 
 " Perhaps not ! " 
 
 " I like it very much," he said, smiling. 
 
 I looked at him a moment ; I don't know what he 
 has got in his eyes. " Don't change ! You are such 
 a good young man that I don't know what we should 
 do without you." And I left him to wait alone for 
 Eunice. 
 
 From my window, above, I saw them leave the 
 door ; they make a fair, bright young couple as they 
 sit together. They had not been gone a quarter of an 
 hour when Mr. Caliph's name was brought up to me. 
 He had asked for me me alone ; he begged that I 
 would do him the favour to see him for ten minutes. 
 I don't know why this announcement should have 
 made me nervous ; but it did. My heart beat at the 
 prospect of entering into direct relations with Mr. 
 Caliph. He is very clever, much thought of, and 
 talked of; and yet I had vaguely suspected him of 
 I don't know what ! I became conscious of that, and 
 felt the responsibility of it; though I didn't foresee, 
 and indeed don't think I foresee yet, any danger of a 
 collision between us. It is to be noted, moreover, that 
 even a woman who is both plain and conceited must 
 feel a certain agitation at entering the presence of 
 Haroun-al-Raschid. I had begun to dress for dinner, 
 
u.] THE IMPASSIONS OF A COUSIN. 257 
 
 and I kept him waiting till I had taken my usual 
 time to finish. I always take some such revenge as 
 that upon men who make me nervous. He is the sort 
 of man who feels immediately whether a woman is 
 well-dressed or not ; but I don't think this reflection 
 really had much to do with my putting on the freshest 
 of my three little French gowns. 
 
 He sat there, watch in hand; at least he slipped it 
 into his pocket as I came into the room. He was 
 not pleased at having had to wait, and when I apolo- 
 gised, hypocritically, for having kept him, he answered, 
 with a certain dryness, that he had come to transact 
 an important piece of business in a very short space 
 of time. I wondered what his business could be, and 
 whether he had come to confess to me that he had 
 spent Eunice's money for his own purposes. Did he 
 wish me to use my influence with her not to make a 
 scandal ? He didn't look like a man who has come 
 to ask a favour of that kind ; but I am sure that if he 
 ever does ask it he will not look at all as he might be 
 expected to look. He was clad in white garments, 
 from head to foot, in recognition of the hot weather, 
 and he had half a dozen roses in his button-hole. 
 This time his flowers were for himself. His white 
 clothes made him look as big as Henry VIII. ; but 
 don't tell me he is not a Jew ! He's a Jew of the 
 artistic, not of the commercial type ; and as I stood 
 there I thought him a very strange person to have 
 as one's trustee. It seemed to me that he would 
 carry such an office into transcendental regions, out 
 of all common jurisdictions ; and it was a comfort 
 to me to remember that I have no property to be 
 taken care of. Mr. Caliph kept a pocket-handkerchief, 
 with an enormous monogram, in his large tapering 
 
 s 
 
258 TALES OF THREE CITIES. [n. 
 
 hand, and every other moment he touched his face 
 with it. He evidently suffers from the heat. With 
 all that, il est Men beau. His business was not what 
 had at first occurred to me ; but I don't know that it 
 was much less strange. 
 
 " I knew I should find you alone, because Adrian 
 told me this morning that he meant to come and ask 
 our young friend to drive. I was glad of that ; I 
 have been wishing to see you alone, and I didn't 
 know how to manage it." 
 
 "You see it's very simple. Didn't you send your 
 brother?" I asked. In another place, to another 
 person, this might have sounded impertinent; but 
 evidently, addressed to Mr. Caliph, things have a 
 special measure, and this I instinctively felt. He 
 will take a great deal, and he will give a great deal. 
 
 He looked at me a moment, as if he were trying to 
 measure what I would take. " I see you are going 
 to be a very satisfactory person to talk with," he 
 answered. "That's exactly what I counted on. I 
 want you to help me." 
 
 " I thought there was some reason why Mr. Frank 
 should urge Eunice so to go," I went on ; refreshed a 
 little, I admit, by these words of commendation. "At 
 first she was unwilling." 
 
 " Is she usually unwilling and does he usually 
 have to be urgent ? " he asked, like a man pleased to 
 come straight to the point. 
 
 "What does it matter, so long as she consents in 
 the end ? " I responded, with a smile that made him 
 smile. There is a singular stimulus, even a sort of 
 excitement, in talking with him; he makes one wish 
 to venture. And this not as women usually venture, 
 because they have a sense of impunity, but, on the 
 
IT.] THE IMPRESSIONS OF A COUSIN. 259 
 
 contrary, because one has a prevision of penalties 
 those penalties which give a kind of dignity to 
 sarcasm. He must be a dangerous man to irritate. 
 
 " Do you think she will consent, in the end ? " he 
 inquired ; and though I had now foreseen what he was 
 coming to, I felt that, even with various precautions, 
 which he had plainly decided not to take, there would 
 still have been a certain crudity in it when, a moment 
 later, he put his errand into words. " I want my little 
 brother to marry her, and I want you to help me 
 bring it about." Then he told me that he knew his 
 brother had already spoken to me, but that he believed 
 I had not promised him much countenance. He 
 wished me to think well of the plan ; it would be a 
 delightful marriage. 
 
 " Delightful for your brother, yes. That's what 
 strikes me most." 
 
 " Delightful for him, certainly ; but also very pleas- 
 ant for Eunice, as things go here. Adrian is the best 
 fellow in the world ; he's a gentleman ; he hasn't a 
 vice or a fault ; he is very well educated ; and he has 
 twenty thousand a year. A lovely property." 
 
 " Not in trust ? " I said, looking into Mr. Caliph's 
 extraordinary eyes. 
 
 " Oh no ; he has full control of it. But he is wonder- 
 fully careful." 
 
 " He doesn't trouble you with it ? " 
 
 "Oh, dear, no; why should he? Thank God, I 
 haven't got that on my back. His property comes to 
 him from his father, who had nothing to do with me ; 
 didn't even like me, I think. He has capital advisers 
 presidents of banks, overseers of hospitals, and all 
 that sort of thing. They have put him in the way of 
 some excellent investments." 
 
260 TALES OF THREE CITIES. [n. 
 
 As I write this, I am surprised at my audacity; 
 but, somehow, it didn't seem so great at the time, and 
 he gave absolutely no sign of seeing more in what I 
 said than appeared. He evidently desires the marriage 
 immensely, and he was thinking only of putting it be- 
 fore me so that I too should think well of it ; for evi- 
 dently, like his brother, he has the most exaggerated 
 opinion of my influence with Eunice. On Mr. Frank's 
 part this doesn't surprise me so much ; but I confess 
 it seems to me odd that a man of Mr. Caliph's acuteness 
 should make the mistake of taking me for one of those 
 persons who covet influence and like to pull the wires 
 of other people's actions. I have a horror of influence, 
 and should never have consented to come and live with 
 Eunice if I had not seen that she is at bottom much 
 stronger than I, who am not at all strong, in spite of 
 my grand airs. Mr. Caliph, I suppose, cannot conceive 
 of a woman in my dependent position being indifferent 
 to opportunities for working in the dark ; but he ought 
 to leave those vulgar imputations to Mrs. Ermine. 
 He ought, with his intelligence, to see one as one is ; or 
 do I possibly exaggerate that intelligence ? " Do you 
 know I feel as if you were asking me to take part in 
 a conspiracy ? " I made that announcement with as 
 little delay as possible. 
 
 He stared a moment, and then he said that he 
 didn't in the least repudiate that view of his proposal. 
 He admitted that he was a conspirator in an excel- 
 lent cause. All match-making was conspiracy. It 
 was impossible that as a superior woman I should 
 enter into his ideas, and he was sure that I had seen 
 too much of the world to say anything so 'banal as that 
 the young people were not in love with each other. 
 That was only a basis for marriage when better things 
 
IL] THE IMPRESSIONS OF A COUSIN. 261 
 
 were lacking. It was decent, it was fitting, that Eunice 
 should be settled in life ; his conscience would not be 
 at rest about her until he should see that well arranged. 
 He was not in the least afraid of that word " arrange- 
 ment ; " a marriage was an eminently practical matter, 
 and it could not be too much arranged. He confessed 
 that he took the European view. He thought that a 
 young girl's elders ought to see that she marries in a 
 way in which certain definite proprieties are observed. 
 He was sure of his brother; he knew how faultless 
 Adrian was. He talked for some time, and said a great 
 deal that I had said to myself the other day, after Mr. 
 Frank spoke to me ; said, in particular, very much what 
 I had thought, about the beauty of arrangements 
 that there are far too few among Americans who marry, 
 that we are the people in the world who divorce and 
 separate most, that there would be much less of this 
 sort of thing if young people were helped to choose ; if 
 marriages were, as one might say, presented to them. I 
 listened to Mr. Caliph with my best attention, thinking 
 it was odd that, on his lips, certain things which I had 
 phrased to myself in very much the same way should 
 sound so differently. They ought to have sounded 
 better, uttered as they were with the energy, the 
 authority, the lucidity, of a man accustomed to making 
 arguments ; but somehow they didn't. I am afraid I 
 am very perverse. I answered I hardly remember 
 what ; but there was a taint of that perversity in it. 
 As he rejoined, I felt that he was growing urgent very 
 urgent ; he has an immense desire that something may 
 be done. I remember saying at last, " What I don't 
 understand is why your brother should wish to marry 
 my cousin. He has told me he is not in love with 
 her. Has your presentation of the idea, as you call it 
 
262 TALES OF THEEE CITIES. [n. 
 
 has that been enough ? Is he acting simply at your 
 request ? " 
 
 I saw that his reply was not perfectly ready, and 
 for a moment those strange eyes of his emitted a ray 
 that I had not seen before. They seemed to say, "Are 
 you really taking liberties with me ? Be on your guard ; 
 I may be dangerous." But he always smiles. Yes, I 
 think he is dangerous, though I don't know exactly 
 what he could do to me. I believe he would smile at 
 the hangman, if he were condemned to meet him. He 
 is very angry with his brother for having admitted to 
 me that the sentiment he entertains for Eunice is not 
 a passion ; as if it would have been possible for him, 
 under my eyes, to pretend that he is in love ! I don't 
 think I am afraid of Mr. Caliph ; I don't desire to take 
 liberties with him (as his eyes seemed to call it) or 
 with any one ; but, decidedly, I am not afraid of him. 
 If it came to protecting Eunice, for instance ; to de- 
 manding justice But what extravagances am I writing? 
 He answered, in a moment, with a good deal of dignity, 
 and even a good deal of reason, that his brother has 
 the greatest admiration for my cousin, that he agrees 
 fully and cordially with everything he (Mr. Caliph) has 
 said to him about its being an excellent match, that he 
 wants very much to marry, and wants to marry as a 
 gentleman should. If he is not in love with Eunice, 
 moreover, he is not in love with any one else. 
 
 " I hope not ! " I said, with a laugh ; whereupon Mr. 
 Caliph got up, looking, for him, rather grave. 
 
 " I can't imagine why you should suppose that Adrian 
 is not acting freely. I don't know what you imagine 
 my means of coercion to be." 
 
 " I don't imagine anything. I think I only wish 
 he had thought of it himself." 
 
IL] THE IMPRESSIONS OF A COUSIN. 263 
 
 " He would never think of anything that is for his 
 good. He is not in the least interested." 
 
 " Well, I don't know that it matters, because I don't 
 think Eunice will see it as we see it." 
 
 " Thank you for saying ' we.' Is she in love with 
 some one else ? " 
 
 " Not that I know of ; but she may expect to be, 
 some day. And better than that, she may expect 
 very justly some one to be in love with her." 
 
 " Oh, in love with her ! How you women talk ! 
 You all of you want the moon. If she is not content 
 to be thought of as Adrian thinks of her, she is a very 
 silly girl. What will she have more than tenderness ? 
 That boy is all tenderness." 
 
 " Perhaps he is too tender," I suggested. " I think 
 he is afraid to ask her." 
 
 " Yes, I know he is nervous at the idea of a re- 
 fusal. But I should like her to refuse him once." 
 
 " It is not of that he is afraid it is of her accept- 
 ing him." 
 
 Mr. Caliph smiled, as if he thought this very in- 
 genious. " You don't understand him. I'm so sorry ! 
 I had an idea that with your knowledge of human 
 nature, your powers of observation you would have 
 perceived how he is made. In fact, I rather counted 
 on that." He said this with a little tone of injury 
 which might have made me feel terribly inadequate if 
 it had not been accompanied with a glance that seemed 
 to say that, after all, he was generous and he forgave 
 me. "Adrian's is one of those natures that are in- 
 flamed by not succeeding. He doesn't give up ; he 
 thrives on opposition. If she refuses him three or four 
 times he will adore her ! " 
 
 " She is sure then to be adored though I am not 
 
264 TALES OF THREE CITIES. [n. 
 
 sure it will make a difference with her. I haven't yet 
 seen a sign that she cares for him." 
 
 " Why then does she go out to drive with him ? " 
 There was nothing brutal in the elation with which 
 Mr. Caliph made this point ; still, he looked a little 
 as if he pitied me for exposing myself to a refutation 
 so prompt. 
 
 "That proves nothing, I think. I would go to 
 drive with Mr. Frank, if he should ask me, and I 
 should be very much surprised if it were regarded as 
 an intimation that I am ready to marry him." 
 
 Mr. Caliph had his hands resting on his thighs, 
 and in this position, bending forward a little, with his 
 smile he said, "Ah, but he doesn't want to marry 
 you!" 
 
 That was a little brutal, I think ; but I should have 
 appeared ridiculous if I had attempted to resent it. 
 I simply answered that I had as yet seen no sign even 
 that Eunice is conscious of Mr. Frank's intentions. I 
 think she is, but I don't think so from anything she has 
 said or done. Mr. Caliph maintains that she is capable 
 of going for six months without betraying herself, all 
 the while quietly considering and making up her mind. 
 It is possible he is right he has known her longer 
 than I. He is far from wishing to wait for six months, 
 however ; and the part I must play is to bring matters 
 to a crisis. I told him that I didn't see why he did 
 not speak to her directly why he should operate in 
 this roundabout way. Why shouldn't he say to her 
 all that he had said to me tell her that she would 
 make him very happy by marrying his little brother ? 
 He answered that this is impossible, that the nearness 
 of relationship would make it unbecoming; it would 
 look like a kind of nepotism. The thing must appear 
 
ii.] THE IMPRESSIONS OF A COUSIN. 265 
 
 to come to pass of itself and I, somehow, must be the 
 author of that appearance ! I was too much a woman 
 of the world, too acquainted with life, not to see the 
 force of all this. He had a great deal to say about my 
 being a woman of the world ; in one sense it is not all 
 complimentary ; one would think me some battered old 
 dowager who had married off fifteen daughters. I 
 feel that I am far from all that when Mr. Caliph leaves 
 me so mystified. He has some other reason for wishing 
 these nuptials than love -of the two young people, but I 
 am unable to put my hand on it. Like the children 
 at hide-and-seek, however, I think I " burn." I don't 
 like him, I mistrust him ; but he is a very charming 
 man. His geniality, his richness, his magnetism, I 
 suppose I should say, are extraordinary ; he fascinates 
 me, in spite of my suspicions. The truth is, that in 
 his way he is an artist, and in my little way I am also 
 one ; and the artist in me recognises the artist in him, 
 and cannot quite resist the temptation to foregather. 
 What is more than this, the artist in him has recognised 
 the artist in me it is very good of him and would 
 like to establish a certain freemasonry. " Let us take 
 together the artistic view of life;" that is simply the 
 meaning of his talking so much about my being a 
 woman of the world. That is all very well ; but it 
 seems to me there would be a certain baseness in our 
 being artists together at the expense of poor little 
 Eunice. I should like to know some of Mr. Caliph's 
 secrets, but I don't wish to give him any of mine in 
 return for them. Yet I gave him something before he 
 departed ; I hardly know what, and hardly know how 
 he extracted it from me. It was a sort of promise that 
 I would after all speak to Eunice, " as I should like 
 to have you, you know." He remained there for a quarter 
 
266 TALES OF THREE CITIES. [n. 
 
 of an hour after he got up to go ; walking about the 
 room with his hands on his hips; talking, arguing, 
 laughing, holding me with his eyes, his admirable face 
 as natural, as dramatic, and at the same time as 
 diplomatic, as an Italian. I am pretty sure he was 
 trying to produce a certain effect, to entangle, to mag- 
 netise me. Strange to say, Mr. Caliph compromises 
 himself, but he doesn't compromise his brother. He 
 has a private reason, but his brother has nothing to do 
 with his privacies. That was my last word to him. 
 
 " The moment I feel sure that I may do something 
 for your brother's happiness your brother's alone 
 by pleading his cause with Eunice that moment I 
 will speak to her. But I can do nothing for yours." 
 
 In answer to this, Mr. Caliph said something very 
 unexpected. "I wish I had known you five years ago !" 
 
 There are many meanings to that; perhaps he 
 would have liked to put me out of the way. But I 
 could take only the polite meaning. " Our acquaint- 
 ance could never have begun too soon." 
 
 " Yes, I should have liked to know you," he went 
 on, " in spite of the fact that you are not kind, that 
 you are not just. Have I asked you to do anything 
 for my happiness ? My happiness is nothing. I have 
 nothing to do with happiness. I don't deserve it. It 
 is only for my little brother and for your charming 
 cousin." 
 
 I was obliged to admit that he was right ; that he 
 had asked nothing for himself. " But I don't want 
 to do anything for you even by accident ! " I said 
 laughing, of course. 
 
 This time he was grave. He stood looking at me 
 a moment, then put out his hand. " Yes, I wish I had 
 known you ! " 
 
ii.] THE IMPRESSIONS OF A COUSIN. 267 
 
 There was something so expressive in his voice, so 
 handsome in his face, so tender and respectful in his 
 manner, as he said this, that for an instant I was 
 really moved, and I was on the point of saying with 
 feeling, " I wish indeed you had ! " But that instinct 
 of which I have already spoken checked me the 
 sense that somehow, as things stand, there can be no 
 rapprochement between Mr. Caliph and me that will 
 not involve a certain sacrifice of Eunice. So I only 
 replied, " You seem to me strange, Mr. Caliph. I must 
 tell you that I don't understand you." 
 
 He kept my hand, still looking at me, and went on 
 as if he had not heard me. " I am not happy I am 
 not wise nor good." Then suddenly, in quite a differ- 
 ent tone, " For God's sake, let her marry my brother ! " 
 
 There was a quick passion in these words which 
 made me say, " If it is so pressing as that, you certainly 
 ought to speak to her. Perhaps she'll do it to oblige 
 you!" 
 
 We had walked into the hall together, and the last 
 I saw of him he stood in the open doorway, looking 
 back at me with his smile. " Hang the nepotism ! I 
 will speak to her ! " 
 
 Cornermlle, July 6. A whole month has passed 
 since I have made an entry ; but I have a good excuse 
 for this dreadful gap. Since we have been in the 
 country I have found subjects enough and to spare, 
 and I have been painting so hard that my hand, of an 
 evening, has been glad to rest. This place is very 
 lovely, and the Hudson is as beautiful as the Ehine. 
 There are the words, in black and white, over my sig- 
 nature ; I can't do more than that. I have said it a 
 dozen times, in answer to as many challenges, and now 
 I record the opinion with all the solemnity I can give 
 
268 TALES OF THREE CITIES. [n. 
 
 it. May it serve for the rest of the summer ! This is 
 an excellent old house, of the style that was thought 
 impressive, in this country, forty years ago. It is 
 painted a cheerful slate-colour, save for a multitude of 
 pilasters and facings which are picked out in the 
 cleanest and freshest white. It has a kind of clumsy 
 gable or apex, on top ; a sort of roofed terrace, "below, 
 from which you may descend to a lawn dotted with 
 delightful old trees ; and between the two, in the 
 second story, a deep verandah, let into the body of the 
 building, and ornamented with white balustrades, con- 
 siderably carved, and big blue stone jars. Add to this 
 a multitude of green shutters and striped awnings, and 
 a mass of Virginia creepers and wisterias, and fling 
 over it the lavish light of the American summer, and 
 you have a notion of some of the conditions of our 
 villeggiatura. The great condition, of course, is the 
 splendid river, lying beneath our rounded headland in 
 vast silvery stretches and growing almost vague on the 
 opposite shore. It is a country of views ; you are 
 always peeping down an avenue, or ascending a mound, 
 or going round a corner, to look at one. They are 
 rather too shining, too high-pitched, for my little pur- 
 poses ; all nature seems glazed with light and varnished 
 with freshness. But I manage to scrape something 
 off. Mrs. Ermine is here, as brilliant as her setting ; 
 and so, strange to say, is Adrian Frank. Strange, for 
 this reason, that the night before we left town I went 
 into Eunice's room and asked her whether she knew, 
 or rather whether she suspected, what was going on. A 
 sudden impulse came to me ; it seemed to me unnatu- 
 ral that in such a situation I should keep anything 
 from her. I don't want to interfere, but I think I 
 want even less to carry too far my aversion to inter- 
 
ii.] THE IMPRESSIONS OF A COUSIN. 269 
 
 ference, and without pretending to advise Eunice, it 
 was revealed to me that she ought to know that Mr. 
 Caliph had come to see me on purpose to induce me to 
 work upon her. It was not till after he was gone that 
 it occurred to me he had sent his brother in advance, 
 on purpose to get Eunice out of the way, and that this 
 was the reason the young Adrian would take no refusal. 
 He was really in excellent training. It was a very 
 hot night. Eunice was alone in her room, without a 
 lamp ; the windows were wide open, and the dusk was 
 clarified by the light of the street. She sat there, 
 among things vaguely visible, in a white wrapper, with 
 her fair hair on her shoulders, and I could see her eyes 
 move toward me when I asked her whether she knew 
 that Mr. Frank wished to marry her. I could see her 
 smile, too, as she answered that she knew he thought 
 he did, but also knew he didn't. 
 
 " Of course I have only his word for it," I said. 
 
 "Has he told you?" 
 
 " Oh yes, and his brother, too." 
 
 " His brother ? " And Eunice slowly got up. 
 
 " It's an idea of Mr. Caliph's as well. Indeed Mr. 
 Caliph may have been the first. He came here to-day, 
 while you were out, to tell me how much he should like 
 to see it come to pass. He has set his heart upon it, 
 and he wished me to engage to do all in my power 
 to bring it about. Of course I can't do anything, 
 can I?" 
 
 She had sunk into her chair again as I went on ; 
 she sat there looking before her, in the dark. Before 
 she answered me she gathered up her thick hair with 
 her hands, twisted it together, and holding it in place, 
 on top of her head, with one hand, tried to fasten a 
 comb into it with the other. I passed behind her to 
 
270 TALES OF THREE CITIES. [n. 
 
 help her ; I could see she was agitated. " Oh no, you 
 can't do anything," she said, after a moment, with a 
 laugh that was not like her usual laughter. " I know 
 all about it ; they have told me, of course." Her tone 
 was forced, and I could see that she had not really 
 known all about it had not known that Mr. Caliph 
 is pushing his brother. I went to the window and 
 looked out a little into the hot, empty street, where the 
 gas lamps showed me, up and down, the hundred high 
 stoops, exactly alike, and as ugly as a bad dream. 
 While I stood there a thought suddenly dropped into 
 my mind, which has lain ever since where it fell. 
 But I don't wish to move it, even to write it here. I 
 stayed with Eunice for ten minutes ; I told her every- 
 thing that Mr. Caliph had said to me. She listened 
 in perfect silence I could see that she was glad to 
 listen. When I related that he didn't wish to speak 
 to her himself on behalf of his brother, because that 
 would seem indelicate, she broke in, with a certain 
 eagerness, " Yes, that is very natural ! " 
 
 "And now you can marry Mr. Frank without my 
 help ! " I said, when I had done. 
 
 She shook her head sadly, though she was smiling 
 again. " It's too late for your help. He has asked 
 me to marry him, and I have told him he can hope for 
 it never ! " 
 
 I was surprised to hear he had spoken, and she 
 said nothing about the time or place. It must have 
 been that afternoon, during their drive. I said that I 
 was rather sorry for our poor young friend, he was such 
 a very nice fellow. She agreed that he was remarkably 
 nice, but added that this was not a sufficient reason 
 for her marrying him ; and when I said that he would 
 try again, that I had Mr. Caliph's assurance that he 
 
u.] THE IMPRESSIONS OF A. COUSIN. 271 
 
 would not be easy to get rid of, and that a refusal 
 would only make him persist, she answered that he 
 might try as often as he liked ; he was so little dis- 
 agreeable to her that she would take even that from 
 him. And now, to give him a chance to try again, she 
 has asked him down here to stay, thinking apparently 
 that Mrs. Ermine's presence puts us en regie with the 
 proprieties. I should add that she assured me there 
 was no real danger of his trying again ; he had told 
 her he meant to, but he had said it only for form. 
 Why should he, since he was not in love with her ? 
 It was all an idea of his brother's, and she was much 
 obliged to Mr. Caliph, who took his duties much too 
 seriously and was not in the least bound to provide 
 her with a husband. Mr. Frank and she had agreed 
 to remain friends, as if nothing had happened ; and I 
 think she then said something about her intending to 
 ask him to this place. A few days after we got here, 
 at all events, she told me that she had written to him, 
 proposing his coming ; whereupon I intimated that I 
 thought it a singular overture to make to a rejected 
 lover whom one didn't wish to encourage. He would 
 take it as encouragement, or at all events Mr. Caliph 
 would. She answered that she didn't care what Mr. 
 Caliph thinks, and that she knew Mr. Frank better 
 than I, and knew therefore that he had absolutely no 
 hope. But she had a particular reason for wishing 
 him to be here. That sounded mysterious, and she 
 couldn't tell me more ; but in a month or two I would 
 guess her reason. As she said this she looked at me 
 with a brighter smile than she has had for weeks ; for 
 I protest that she is troubled Eunice is greatly 
 troubled. Nearly a month has elapsed, and I haven't 
 guessed that reason. Here is Adrian Frank, at any 
 
2*72 TALES OF THREE CITIES. [n. 
 
 rate, as I say ; and I can't make out whether he persists 
 or renounces. His manner to Eunice is just the same ; 
 he is always polite and always shy, never inattentive 
 and never unmistakable. He has not said a word more 
 to me about his suit. Apart from this he is very 
 sympathetic, and we sit about sketching together in 
 the most fraternal manner. He made to me a day or 
 two since a very pretty remark ; viz., that he would 
 rather copy a sketch of mine than try, himself, to do 
 the place from nature. This perhaps does not look so 
 galant as I repeat it here ; but with the tone and 
 glance with which he said it, it really almost touched 
 me. I was glad, by the way, to hear from Eunice 
 the. night before we left town that she doesn't care 
 what Mr. Caliph thinks; only, I should be gladder 
 still if I believed it. I don't, unfortunately ; among 
 other reasons, because it doesn't at all agree with that 
 idea which descended upon me with a single jump 
 from heaven knows where while I looked out of her 
 window at the stoops. I observe with pleasure, how- 
 ever, that he doesn't send her any more papers to sign. 
 These days pass softly, quickly, but with a curious, an 
 unnatural, stillness. It is as if there were something 
 in the air a sort of listening hush. That sounds 
 very fantastic, and I suppose such remarks are only to 
 be justified by my having the artistic temperament 
 that is, if I have it ! If I haven't, there is no excuse ; 
 unless it be that Eunice is distinctly uneasy, and that 
 it takes the form of a voluntary, exaggerated calm, of 
 which I feel the contact, the tension. She is as quiet 
 as a mouse and yet as restless as a flame. She is 
 neither well nor happy ; she doesn't sleep. It is true 
 that I asked Mr. Frank the other day what impression 
 she made on him, and he replied, with a little start, 
 
ii.] THE IMPRESSIONS OF A COUSIN. 273 
 
 and a smile of alacrity, " Oh, delightful, as usual ! " 
 so that I saw he didn't know what he was talking 
 about. He is tremendously sunburnt, and as red as a 
 tomato. I wish he would look a little less at my 
 daubs and a little more at the woman he wishes to 
 marry. In summer I always suffice to myself, and I 
 am so much interested in my work that if I hope, de- 
 voutly, as I do, that nothing is going to happen to 
 Eunice, it is probably quite as much from selfish 
 motives as from others. If anything were to happen 
 to her I should be immensely interrupted. Mrs. 
 Ermine is bored, par example! She is dying to have 
 a garden-party, at which she can drag a long train over 
 the lawn ; but day follows day and this entertainment 
 does not take place. Eunice has promised it, however, 
 for another week, and I believe means to send out in- 
 vitations immediately. Mrs. Ermine has offered to 
 write them all; she has, after all, du Ion. But the 
 fatuity of her misunderstandings of everything that sur- 
 rounds her passes belief. She sees nothing that really 
 occurs, and gazes complacently into the void. Her 
 theory is always that Mr. Caliph is in love with 
 Eunice, she opened up to me on the subject only 
 yesterday, because with no one else to talk to but the 
 young Adrian, who dodges her, she doesn't in the least 
 mind that she hates me, and that I think her a goose 
 that Mr. Caliph is in love with Eunice, but that Eunice, 
 who is queer enough for anything, doesn't like him, so 
 that he has sent down his step-brother to tell stories 
 about the good things he has done, and to win over 
 her mind to a more favourable view. Mrs. Ermine 
 believes in these good things, and appears to think 
 such action on Mr. Caliph's part both politic and dra- 
 matic. She has not the smallest suspicion of the real 
 
 T 
 
274 TALES OF THREE CITIES. [n. 
 
 little drama that has been going on under her nose. 
 I wish I had that absence of vision ; it would be a 
 great rest. Heaven knows I see more than I want 
 for instance when I see that my poor little cousin is 
 pinched with pain, and yet that I can't relieve her, 
 can't even advise her. I couldn't do the former even 
 if I would, and she wouldn't let me do the latter even 
 if I could. It seems too pitiful, too incredible, that 
 there should be no one to turn to. Surely, if I go up 
 to town for a day next week, as seems probable, I may 
 call upon William Ermine. Whether I may or not, I 
 will 
 
 July 11. She has been getting letters, and they 
 have made her worse. Last night I spoke to her I 
 asked her to come into my room. I told her that I saw 
 she was in distress ; that it was terrible to me to see 
 it ; that I was sure that she has some miserable secret. 
 Who was making her suffer this way ? No one had 
 the right not even Mr. Caliph, if Mr. Caliph it was, 
 to whom she appeared to have conceded every right. 
 She broke down completely, burst into tears, confessed 
 that she is troubled about money. Mr. Caliph has 
 again requested a delay as to his handing in his ac- 
 counts, and has told her that she will have no income 
 for another year. She thinks it strange ; she is afraid 
 that everything isn't right. She is not afraid of being 
 poor ; she holds that it's vile to concern one's self so 
 much about money. But there is something that 
 breaks her heart in thinking that Mr. Caliph should 
 be in fault. She had always admired him, she had 
 
 always believed in him, she had always What it 
 
 was, in the third place, that she had always done I 
 didn't learn, for at this point she buried her head still 
 deeper in my lap and sobbed for half an hour. Her 
 
II.] THE IMPRESSIONS OF A COUSIN. 275 
 
 grief was melting. I was never more troubled, and this 
 in spite of the fact that I was furious at her strange air 
 of acceptance of a probable calamity. She is afraid 
 that everything isn't right, forsooth ! I should think 
 it was not, and should think it hadn't been for heaven 
 knows how long. This is what has been in the air ; 
 this is what was hanging over us. But Eunice is 
 simply amazing. She declines to see a lawyer; de- 
 clines to hold Mr. Caliph accountable ; declines to 
 complain, to inquire, to investigate in any way. I 
 am sick, I am terribly perplexed I don't know what 
 to do. Her tears dried up in an instant as soon as I 
 made the very obvious remark that the beautiful, the 
 mysterious, the captivating Caliph is no better than a 
 common swindler; and she gave me a look which 
 might have frozen me if, when I am angry, I were 
 freezable. She took it de lien haut ; she intimated to 
 me that if I should ever speak in that way again of 
 Mr. Caliph we must part company for ever. She was 
 distressed ; she admitted that she felt injured. I had 
 seen for myself how far that went. But she didn't 
 pretend to judge him. He had been in trouble, he 
 had told her that; and his trouble was worse than 
 hers, inasmuch as his honour was at stake, and it had 
 to be saved. 
 
 " It's charming to hear you speak of his honour," I 
 cried, quite regardless of the threat she had just 
 uttered. "Where was his honour when he violated 
 the most sacred of trusts? Where was his honour 
 when he went off with your fortune? Those are 
 questions, my dear, that the courts will make him 
 answer. He shall make up to you every penny that 
 he has stolen, or my name is not Catherine Condit ! " 
 
 Eunice gave me another look, which seemed meant 
 
276 TALES OF THREE CITIES. [n. 
 
 to let me know that I had suddenly become in her 
 eyes the most indecent of women ; and then she swept 
 out of the room. I immediately sat down and wrote 
 to Mr. Ermine, in order to have my note ready to 
 send up to town at the earliest hour the next morning. 
 I told him that Eunice was in dreadful trouble about 
 her money -matters, and that I believed he would 
 render her a great service, though she herself had no 
 wish to ask it, by coming down to see her at his first 
 convenience. I reflected, of course, as I wrote, that he 
 could do her no good if she should refuse to see him ; 
 but I made up for this by saying to myself that I at 
 least should see him, and that he would do me good. 
 I added in my note that Eunice had been despoiled 
 by those who had charge of her property ; but I didn't 
 mention Mr. Caliph's name. I was just closing my 
 letter when Eunice came into my room again. I saw 
 in a moment that she was different from anything she 
 had ever been before or at least had ever seemed. 
 Her excitement, her passion, had gone down; even 
 the traces of her tears had vanished. She was per- 
 fectly quiet, but all her softness had left her. She 
 was as solemn and impersonal as the priestess of a 
 cult. As soon as her eyes fell upon my letter she 
 asked me to be so good as to inform her to whom I 
 had been writing. I instantly satisfied her, telling 
 her what I had written ; and she asked me to give 
 her the document. " I must let you know that I shall 
 immediately burn it up," she added ; and she went on 
 to say that if I should send it to Mr. Ermine she her- 
 self would write to him by the same post that he was 
 to heed nothing I had said. I tore up my letter, but 
 I announced to Eunice that I would go up to town 
 and see the person to whom I had addressed it. " That 
 
ii.] THE IMPRESSIONS OF A COUSIN. 27*7 
 
 brings us precisely to what I came in to say," she 
 answered ; and she proceeded to demand of me a 
 solemn vow that I would never speak to a living soul 
 of what I had learned in regard to her affairs. They 
 were her affairs exclusively, and no business of mine 
 or of any other human being ; and she had a perfect 
 right to ask and to expect this promise. She has, 
 indeed more's the pity ; but it was impossible to me 
 to admit just then indignant and excited as I was 
 that I recognised the right. I did so at last, how- 
 ever, and I made the promise. It seems strange to me 
 to write it here ; but I am pledged by a tremendous 
 vow, taken in this " intimate " spot, in the small hours 
 of the morning, never to lift a finger, never to speak 
 a word, to redress any wrong that Eunice may have 
 received at the hands of her treacherous trustee, to 
 bring it to the knowledge of others, or to invoke 
 justice, compensation or pity. How she extorted this 
 concession from me is more than I can say : she did 
 so by the force of her will, which, as I have already 
 had occasion to note, is far stronger than mine ; and 
 by the vividness of her passion, which is none the less 
 intense because it burns inward and makes her heart 
 glow while her face remains as clear as an angel's. 
 She seated herself with folded hands, and declared she 
 wouldn't leave the room until I had satisfied her. 
 She is in a state of extraordinary exaltation, and from 
 her own point of view she was eloquent enough. She 
 returned again and again to the fact that she did not 
 judge Mr. Caliph; that what he may have done is 
 between herself and him alone ; and that if she had 
 not been betrayed to speaking of it to me in the first 
 shock of finding that certain allowances would have to 
 be made for him, no one need ever have suspected it. 
 
278 TALES OF THREE CITIES. [n. 
 
 She was now perfectly ready to make those allowances. 
 She was unspeakably sorry for Mr. Caliph. He had 
 been in urgent need of money, and he had used hers : 
 pray, whose else would I have wished him to use ? 
 Her money had been an insupportable bore to him 
 from the day it was thrust into his hands. To make 
 him her trustee had been in the worst possible taste ; 
 he was not the sort of person to make a convenience 
 of, and it had been odious to take advantage of his 
 good nature. She had always been ashamed of owing 
 him so much. He had been perfect in all his relations 
 with her, though he must have hated her and her 
 wretched little investments from the first. If she had 
 lost money, it was not his fault ; he had lost a great 
 deal more for himself than he had lost for her. He 
 was the kindest, the most delightful, the most inter- 
 esting of men. Eunice brought out all this with pure 
 defiance ; she had never treated herself before to the 
 luxury of saying it, and it was singular to think that 
 she found her first pretext, her first boldness, in the 
 fact that he had ruined her. All this looks almost 
 grotesque as I write it here ; but she imposed it upon 
 me last night with all the authority of her passionate 
 little person. I agreed, as I say, that the matter was 
 none of my business ; that is now definite enough. 
 Two other things are equally so. One is that she 
 is to be plucked like a chicken ; the other is that she 
 is in love with the precious Caliph, and has been so 
 for years ! I didn't dare to write that the other night, 
 after the beautiful idea had suddenly flowered in my 
 mind; but I don't care what I write now. I am 
 so horribly tongue-tied that I must at least relieve 
 myself here. Of course I wonder now that I never 
 guessed her secret before ; especially as I was per- 
 
ii.] THE IMPRESSIONS OF A COUS1X. 2*79 
 
 petually hovering on the edge of it. It explains 
 many things, and it is very terrible. In. love with a 
 pickpocket ! Merci ! I am glad fate hasn't played 
 me that trick. 
 
 July 14. I can't get over the idea that he is to 
 go scot-free. I grind my teeth at it as I sit at work, 
 and I find myself using the most livid, the most 
 indignant colours. I have had another talk with 
 Eunice, but I don't in the least know what she is to live 
 on. She says she has always her father's property, 
 and that this will be abundant; but that of course 
 she cannot pretend to live as* she has lived hitherto. 
 She will have to go abroad again and economise ; and 
 she will probably have to sell this place that is, if 
 she can. " If she can," of course means if there is 
 anything to sell ; if it isn't devoured with mortgages. 
 What I want to know is, whether Justice, in such a 
 case as this, will not step in, notwithstanding the 
 silence of the victim. If I could only give her a 
 hint the angel of the scales and sword in spite 
 of my detestable promise ! I can't find out about 
 Mr. Caliph's impunity, as it is impossible for me to 
 allude to the matter to any one who would be able to 
 tell me. Yes, the more I think of it the more reason 
 I see to rejoice that fate hasn't played me that trick 
 of making me fall in love with a common thief ! Suf- 
 fering keener than my poor little cousin's I cannot 
 possibly imagine, or a power of self-sacrifice more 
 awful. Fancy the situation, when the only thing one 
 can do for the man one loves is to forgive him for 
 stealing ! What a delicate attention, what a touching 
 proof of tenderness ! This Eunice can do ; she has 
 waited all these years to do something. I hope she 
 is pleased with her opportunity. And yet when I 
 
280 TALES OF THREE CITIES. [ir. 
 
 say she lias forgiven him for stealing, I lose myself 
 in the mystery of her exquisite spirit. Who knows 
 what it is she has forgiven does she even know 
 herself? She consents to being injured, despoiled, 
 and finds in consenting a kind of rapture. But I 
 notice that she has said no more about Mr. Caliph's 
 honour. That substantive she condemns herself never 
 to hear again without a quiver, for she has condoned 
 something too ignoble. What I further want to 
 know is, what conceivable tone he has taken 
 whether he has made a clean breast of it, and thrown 
 himself upon her mercy; or whether he has sought 
 refuge in bravado, in prevarication ? Not indeed 
 that it matters, save for the spectacle of the thing, 
 which I find rich. I should also like much to know 
 whether everything has gone, whether something may 
 yet be saved. It is safe to say that she doesn't 
 know the worst, and that if he has admitted the case 
 is bad, we may take for granted that it leaves nothing 
 to be desired. Let him alone to do the thing hand- 
 somely ! I have a right to be violent, for there was a 
 moment when he made me like him, and I feel as if 
 he had cheated me too. Her being in love with him 
 makes it perfect ; for of course it was in that that he 
 saw his opportunity to fleece her. I don't pretend to 
 say how he discovered it, for she has watched herself 
 as a culprit watches a judge ; but from the moment 
 he guessed it he must have seen that he could do 
 what he liked. It is true that this doesn't agree 
 very well with his plan that she should marry his 
 step -brother; but I prefer to believe it, because it 
 makes him more horrible. And apropos of Adrian 
 Frank, it is very well I like him so much (that comes 
 out rather plump, by the way), inasmuch as if I 
 
TI.] THE IMPRESSIONS OF A COUSIN. 281 
 
 didn't it would be quite open to me to believe that 
 he is in league with Caliph. There has been nothing 
 to prove that he has not said to his step -brother, 
 "Very good; you take all you can get, and I will 
 marry her, and being her husband, hush it up," 
 nothing but the expression of his blue eyes. That 
 is very little, when we think that expressions and 
 eyes are a specialty of the family, and haven't pre- 
 vented Mr. Caliph from being a robber. It is those 
 eyes of his that poor Eunice is in love with, and it 
 is for their sake that she forgives him. But the 
 young Adrian's are totally different, and not nearly so 
 fine, which I think a great point in his favour. Mr. 
 Caliph's are southern eyes, and the young Adrian's 
 are eyes of the north. Moreover, though he is so 
 amiable and obliging, I don't think he is amiable 
 enough to endosser his brother's victims to that extent, 
 even to save his brother's honour. He needn't care 
 so much about that honour, since Mr. Caliph's name 
 is not his name. And then, poor fellow, he is too 
 stupid ; he is almost as stupid as Mrs. Ermine. The 
 two have sat together directing cards for Eunice's 
 garden-party as placidly as if no one had a sorrow 
 in life. Mrs. Ermine proposed this pastime to Mr. 
 Frank ; and as he has nothing in the world to do, it is 
 as good an employment for him as another. But it 
 exasperates me to see him sitting at the big table in 
 the library, opposite to Mrs. E., while they solemnly 
 pile one envelope on top of another. They have 
 already a heap as high as their heads ; they must 
 have invited a thousand people. I can't imagine who 
 they all are. It is an extraordinary time for Eunice 
 to be giving a party the day after she discovers 
 that she is penniless ; but of course it isn't Eunice, 
 
282 TALES OF THREE CITIES. [n. 
 
 it's Mrs. Ermine. I said to her yesterday that if she 
 was to change her mode of life simple enough 
 already, poor thing she had better begin at once; 
 and that her garden-party under Mrs. Ermine's direc- 
 tion would cost her a thousand dollars. She answered 
 that she must go on, since it had already been talked 
 about; she wished no one to know anything to 
 suspect anything. This would be her last extra- 
 vagance, her farewell to society. If such resources 
 were open to us poor heretics, I should suppose 
 she meant to go into a convent. She exasperates me 
 too every one exasperates me. It is some satisfac- 
 tion, however, to feel that my exasperation clears up 
 my mind. It is Caliph who is " sold," after all. He 
 would not have invented this alliance for his brother 
 if he had known if he had faintly suspected that 
 Eunice was in love with him, inasmuch as in this 
 case he had assured impunity. Fancy his not know- 
 ing it the idiot ! 
 
 July 10. They are still directing cards, and Mrs. 
 Ermine has taken the whole thing on her shoulders. 
 She has invited people that Eunice has never heard 
 of a pretty rabble she will have made of it ! She 
 has ordered a band of music from New York, and a 
 new dress for the occasion something in the last 
 degree champdtre. Eunice is perfectly indifferent to 
 what she does ; I have discovered that she is think- 
 ing only of one thing. Mr. Caliph is coming, and the 
 bliss of that idea fills her mind. The more people 
 the better ; she will not have the air of making petty 
 economies to afflict him with the sight of what he has 
 reduced her to ! 
 
 " This is the way Eunice ought to live," Mrs. Ermine 
 said to me this afternoon, rubbing her hands, after the 
 
II.] THE IMPRESSIONS OF A COUSIN. 283 
 
 last invitation had departed. When I say the last, I 
 mean the last till she had remembered another that 
 was highly important, and had floated back into the 
 library to scribble it off. She writes a regular invita- 
 tion-hand a vague, sloping, silly hand, that looks as 
 if it had done nothing all its days but write, " Mr. and 
 Mrs. Ermine request the pleasure ;" or, " Mr. and Mrs. 
 Ermine are delighted to accept." She told me that 
 she knew Eunice far better than Eunice knew herself, 
 and that her line in life was evidently to " receive." 
 No one better than she would stand in a doorway and 
 put out her hand with a smile ; no one would be a 
 more gracious and affable hostess, or make a more 
 generous use of an ample fortune. She is really very 
 trying, Mrs. Ermine, with her ample fortune ; she is 
 like a clock striking impossible hours. I think she 
 must have engaged a special train for her guests a 
 train to pick up people up and down the river. Adrian 
 Frank went to town to-day ; he comes back on the 
 23d, and the festival takes place the next day. The 
 festival, Heaven help us ! Eunice is evidently going 
 to be ill ; it's as much as I can do to keep from adding 
 that it serves her right ! It's a great relief to me that 
 Mr. Frank has gone; this has ceased to be a place for 
 him. It is ever so long since he has said anything 
 to me about his " prospects." They are charming, his 
 prospects ! 
 
 July 26. The garden-party has taken place, and 
 a great deal more besides. I have been too agitated, 
 too fatigued and bewildered, to write anything here ; 
 but I can't sleep to-night I'm too nervous and it is 
 better to sit and scribble than to toss about. I may 
 as well say at once that the party was very pretty 
 Mrs. Ermine may have that credit. The day was 
 
284 TALES OF THREE CITIES. [11. 
 
 lovely ; the lawn was in capital order ; the music was 
 good, and the "buffet apparently inexhaustible. There 
 was an immense number of people ; some of them had 
 come even from Albany many of them strangers to 
 Eunice, and proteges only of Mrs. Ermine ; but they 
 dispersed themselves on the grounds, and I have not 
 heard as yet that they stole the spoons or plucked 
 up the plants. Mrs. Ermine, who was exceedingly 
 champ6tre white muslin and corn-flowers told me 
 that Eunice was "receiving adorably," was in her 
 native element. She evidently inspired great curi- 
 osity; that was why every one had come. I don't 
 mean because every one suspects her situation, but 
 because as yet, since her return, she has been little 
 seen and known, and is supposed to be a distinguished 
 figure clever, beautiful, rich, and a parti. I think 
 she satisfied every one ; she was voted most interesting, 
 and except that she was deadly pale, she was prettier 
 than any one else. Adrian Erank did not come back 
 on the 23d, and did not arrive for the festival. So 
 much I note without as yet understanding it. His 
 absence from the garden-party, after all his exertions 
 under the orders of Mrs. Ermine, is in need of an 
 explanation. Mr. Caliph could give none, for Mr. 
 Caliph was there. He professed surprise at not find- 
 ing his brother ; said he had not seen him in town, 
 that he had no idea what had become of him. This is 
 probably perfectly false. I am bound to believe that 
 everything he says and does is false; and I have no 
 doubt that they met in New York, and that Adrian 
 told him his reason whatever it was for not coming 
 back. I don't know how to relate what took place 
 between Mr. Caliph and me ; we had an extraordinary 
 scene a scene that gave my nerves the shaking from 
 
ii.] THE IMPEESSIONS OF A COUSIN. 285 
 
 which they have not recovered. He is truly a most 
 amazing personage. He is altogether beyond me ; I 
 don't pretend to fathom him. To say that he has no 
 moral sense is nothing. I have seen other people who 
 have had no moral sense ; but I have seen no one with 
 that impudence, that cynicism, that remorseless cruelty. 
 We had a tremendous encounter; I thank heaven 
 that strength was given me ! When I found myself 
 face to face with him, and it came over me that, bloom- 
 ing there in his diabolical assurance, it was he he 
 with his smiles, his bows, his gorgeous bontonntire, the 
 wonderful air he has of being anointed and gilded he 
 that had ruined my poor Eunice, who grew whiter 
 than ever as he approached : when I felt all this my 
 blood began to tingle, and if I were only a handsome 
 woman I might believe that my eyes shone like those 
 of an avenging angel. He was as fresh as a day in 
 June, enormous, and more than ever like Haroun-al- 
 Easchid. I asked him to take a walk with me ; and 
 just for an instant, before accepting, he looked at me, 
 as the French say, in the white of the eyes. But he 
 pretended to be delighted, and we strolled away together 
 to the path that leads down to the river. It was 
 difficult to get away from the people they were all 
 over the place ; but I made him go so far that at the 
 end of ten minutes we were virtually alone together. 
 It was delicious to see how he hated it. It was then 
 that I asked him what had become of his step-brother, 
 and that he professed, as I have said, the utmost 
 ignorance of Adrian's whereabouts. I hated him ; it 
 was odious to me to be so close to him ; yet I could 
 have endured this for hours in order to make him feel 
 that I despised him. To make him feel it without 
 saying it there was an inspiration in that idea ; but 
 
286 TALES OF THREE CITIES. [n. 
 
 it is very possible that it made me look more like a 
 demon than like the angel I just mentioned. I told 
 him in a moment, abruptly, that his step-brother would 
 do well to remain away altogether in future ; it was a 
 farce his pretending to make my cousin reconsider her 
 answer. 
 
 rt Why, then, did she ask him to come down here ? " 
 He launched this inquiry with confidence. 
 
 " Because she thought it would be pleasant to have 
 a man in the house ; and Mr. Frank is such a harm- 
 less, discreet, accommodating one." 
 
 " Why, then, do you object to his coming back ? " 
 
 He had made me contradict myself a little, and 
 of course he enjoyed that. I was confused confused 
 by my agitation; and I made the matter worse. I 
 was furious that Eunice had made me promise not 
 to speak, and my anger blinded me, as great anger 
 always does, save in organisations so fine as Mr. 
 Caliph's. 
 
 " Because Eunice is in no condition to have com- 
 pany. She is very ill ; you can see for yourself." 
 
 " Very ill ? with a garden-party and a band of 
 music ! Why, then, did she invite us all ? " 
 
 " Because she is a little crazy, I think." 
 
 " You are very consistent ! " he cried, with a laugh. 
 " I know people who think every one crazy but them- 
 selves. I have had occasion to talk business with 
 her several times of late, and I find her mind as clear 
 as a bell." 
 
 " I wonder if you will allow me to say that you 
 talk business too much ? Let me give you a word of 
 advice : wind up her affairs at once without any more 
 procrastination, and place them in her own hands. 
 She is very nervous ; she knows this ought to have 
 
ii.] THE IMPRESSIONS OF A COUSIN. 28*7 
 
 been done already. I recommend you strongly to 
 make an end of the matter." 
 
 I had no idea I could he so insolent, even in con- 
 versation with a swindler. I confess I didn't do it 
 so well as I might, for my voice trembled perceptibly 
 in the midst of my efforts to be calm. He had picked 
 up two or three stones and was tossing them into the 
 river, making them skira the surface for a long distance. 
 He held one poised a moment, turning his eye askance 
 on me ; then he let it fly, and it danced for a hundred 
 yards. I wondered whether in what I had just said I 
 broke my vow to Eunice ; and it seemed to me that 
 I didn't, inasmuch as I appeared to assume that no 
 irreparable wrong had been done her. 
 
 " Do you wish yourself to get control of her pro- 
 perty ? " Mr. Caliph inquired, after he had made his 
 stone skim. It was magnificently said, far better than 
 anything I could do ; and I think I answered it 
 though it made my heart beat fast almost with a 
 smile of applause. 
 
 " Aren't you afraid ? " I asked in a moment, very 
 gently. 
 
 " Afraid of what of you ?" 
 
 " Afraid of justice of Eunice's friends ? " 
 
 "That means you, of course. Yes, I am very 
 much afraid. When was a man not, in the presence 
 of a clever woman ? " 
 
 " I am clever ; but I am not clever enough. If I 
 were, you should have no doubt of it." 
 
 He folded his arms as he stood there before me, 
 looking at me in that way I have mentioned more 
 than once like a genial Mephistopheles. " I must 
 repeat what I have already told you, that I wish I had 
 known you ten years ago ! " 
 
288 TALES OF THREE CITIES. [n. 
 
 " How you must hate me to say that ! " I exclaimed. 
 " That's some comfort, just a little your hating me." 
 
 " I can't tell you how it makes me feel to see you 
 so indiscreet," he went on, as if he had not heard me. 
 " Ah, my dear lady, don't meddle a woman like you ! 
 Think of the bad taste of it." 
 
 " It's bad if you like ; but yours is far worse." 
 
 " Mine ! What do you know about mine ? What 
 do you know about me ? See how superficial it makes 
 you." He paused a moment, smiling almost compas- 
 sionately ; and then he said, with an abrupt change of 
 tone and manner, as if our conversation wearied him 
 and he wished to sum up and return to the house, 
 " See that she marries Adrian ; that's all you have 
 to do!" 
 
 " That's a beautiful idea of yours ! You know you 
 don't believe in it yourself!" These words broke 
 from me as he turned away, and we ascended the hill 
 together. 
 
 " It's the only thing I believe in," he answered, 
 very gravely. 
 
 " What a pity for you that your brother doesn't ! 
 For he doesn't I persist in that ! " I said this 
 because it seemed to me just then to be the thing I 
 could think of that would exasperate him most. The 
 event proved I was right. 
 
 He stopped short in the path gave me a very bad 
 look. " Do you want him for yourself ? Have you 
 been making love to him ? " 
 
 "Ah, Mr. Caliph, for a man who talks about taste !" 
 I answered. 
 
 " Taste be damned ! " cried Mr. Caliph, as we went 
 on again. 
 
 " That's quite my idea ! " He broke into an un- 
 
ii.] THE IMPRESSIONS OF A COUSIN. 289 
 
 expected laugh, as if I had said something very 
 amusing, and we proceeded in silence to the top of 
 the hill. Then I suddenly said to him, as we emerged 
 upon the lawn, "Aren't you really a little afraid ? " 
 
 He stopped again, looking toward the house and at 
 the brilliant groups with which the lawn was covered. 
 We had lost the music, but we began to hear it again. 
 " Afraid ? of course I am ! I'm immensely afraid. It 
 comes over me in such a scene as this. But I don't 
 see what good it does you to know." 
 
 " It makes me rather happy." That was a fib ; 
 for it didn't, somehow, when he looked and talked in 
 that way. He has an absolutely bottomless power of 
 mockery; and really, absurd as it appears, for that 
 instant I had a feeling that it was quite magnanimous 
 of him not to let me know what he thought of my 
 idiotic attempt to frighten him. He feels strong and 
 safe somehow, somewhere ; but I can't discover why he 
 should, inasmuch as he certainly doesn't know Eunice's 
 secret, and it is only her state of mind that gives him 
 impunity. He believes her to be merely credulous ; 
 convinced by his specious arguments that everything 
 will be right in a few months ; a little nervous, 
 possibly to justify my account of her but for the 
 present, at least, completely at his mercy. The present, 
 of course, is only what now concerns him; for the 
 future he has invented Adrian Frank. How he clings 
 to this invention was proved by the last words he said 
 to me before we separated on the lawn ; they almost 
 indicate that he has a conscience, and this is so extra- 
 ordinary 
 
 " She must marry Adrian ! She must marry 
 Adrian ! " 
 
 With this he turned away and went to talk to 
 u 
 
290 TALES OF THREE CITIES. [n. 
 
 various people whom lie knew. He talked to every 
 one ; diffused his genial influence all over the place, 
 and contributed greatly to the brilliancy of the occa- 
 sion. I hadn't therefore the comfort of feeling that 
 Mrs. Ermine was more of a waterspout than usual, 
 when she said to me afterwards that Mr. Caliph was 
 a man to adore, and that the party would have been 
 quite " ordinary " without him. " I mean in compari- 
 son, you know." And then she said to me suddenly, 
 with her blank impertinence : " Why don't you set 
 your cap at him ? I should think you would ! " 
 
 " Is it possible you have not observed my frantic 
 efforts to captivate him ? " I answered. " Didn't you 
 notice how I drew him away and made him walk 
 with me by the river ? It's too soon to say, but I 
 really think I am gaining ground." For so mild a 
 pleasure it really pays to mystify Mrs. Ermine ! I 
 kept away from Eunice till almost every one had 
 gone. I knew that she would look at me in a certain 
 way, and I didn't wish to meet her eyes. I have a 
 bad conscience, for turn it as I would I had broken 
 my vow. Mr. Caliph went away without my meet- 
 ing him again ; but I saw that half an hour before he 
 left he strolled to a distance with Eunice. I instantly 
 guessed what his business was ; he had made up his 
 mind to present to her directly, and in person, the 
 question of her marrying his step-brother. What a 
 happy inspiration, and what a well-selected occasion ! 
 When she came back I saw that she had been crying, 
 though I imagine no one else did. I know the signs 
 of her tears, even when she has checked them as 
 quickly as she must have done to-day. Whatever 
 it was that had passed between them, it diverted her 
 from looking at me, when we were alone together, in 
 
ii.] THE IMPRESSIONS OF A COUSIN. 291 
 
 that way I was afraid of. Mrs. Ermine is prolific; 
 there is no end to the images that succeed each other 
 in her mind. Late in the evening, after the last car- 
 riage had rolled away, we went up the staircase to- 
 gether, and at the top she detained me a moment. 
 
 " I have been thinking it over, and I am afraid that 
 there is no chance for you. I have reason to believe 
 that he proposed to-day to Eunice ! " 
 
 August 19. Eunice is very ill, as I was sure she 
 would be, after the effort of her horrible festival. 
 She kept going for three days more; then she broke 
 down completely, and for a week now she has been 
 in bed. I have had no time to write, for I have been 
 constantly with her, in alternation with Mrs. Ermine. 
 Mrs. Ermine was about to leave us after the garden- 
 party, but when Eunice gave up she announced that 
 she would stay and take care of her. Eunice tells 
 me that she is a good nurse, except that she talks too 
 much, and of course she gives me a chance to rest. 
 Eunice's condition is strange; she has no fever, but 
 her life seems to have ebbed away. She lies with 
 her eyes shut, perfectly conscious, answering when 
 she is spoken to, but immersed in absolute rest. It 
 is as if she had had some terrible strain or fatigue, 
 and wished to steep herself in oblivion. I am not 
 anxious about her am much less frightened than 
 Mrs. Ermine or the doctor, for whom she is appar- 
 ently dying of weakness. I tell the doctor I under- 
 stand her condition I have seen her so before. It 
 will last probably a month, and then she will slowly 
 pull herself together. The poor man accepts this 
 theory for want of a better, and evidently depends 
 upon me to see her through, as he says. Mrs. 
 Ermine wishes to send for one of the great men from 
 
292 TALES OF THKEE CITIES. [n. 
 
 New York, but I have opposed this idea, and shall 
 continue to oppose it. There is (to my mind) a kind 
 of cruelty in exhibiting the poor girl to more people 
 than are absolutely necessary. The dullest of them 
 would see that she is in love. The seat of her illness 
 is in her mind, in her soul, and no rude hands must 
 touch her there. She herself has protested she 
 has murmured a prayer that she may be forced to see 
 no one else. " I only want to be left alone to be 
 left alone." So we leave her alone that is, we 
 simply watch and wait. She will recover people 
 don't die of these things ; she will live to suffer 
 to suffer always. I am tired to-night, but Mrs. 
 Ermine is with her, and I shall not be wanted till 
 morning; therefore, before I lie down, I will repair 
 in these remarkable pages a serious omission. I 
 scarcely know why I should have written all this, 
 except that the history of things interests me, and I 
 find that it is even a greater pleasure to write it than 
 to read it. If what I have committed to this little 
 book hitherto has not been profitless, I must make a 
 note of an incident which I think more curious than 
 any of the scenes I have described. 
 
 Adrian Frank reappeared the day after the garden- 
 party late in the afternoon, while I sat in the 
 verandah and watched the sunset and Eunice strolled 
 down to the river with Mrs. Ermine. I had heard 
 no sound of wheels, and there was no evidence of a 
 vehicle or of luggage. He had not come through the 
 house, but walked round it from the front, having 
 apparently been told by one of the servants that we 
 were in the grounds. On seeing me he stopped, hesi- 
 tated a moment, then came up to the steps, shook 
 hands in silence, seated himself near me and looked 
 
ii.] THE IMPKESSIONS OF A COUSIN. 293 
 
 at me through the dusk. This was all tolerably 
 mysterious, and it was even more so after he had 
 explained a little. I told him that he was a day 
 after the fair, that he had been considerably missed, 
 and even that he was slightly wanting in respect to 
 Eunice. Since he had absented himself from her 
 party it was not quite delicate to assume that she 
 was ready to receive him at his own time. I don't 
 know what made me so truculent as if there were 
 any danger of his having really not considered us, or 
 his lacking a good reason. It was simply, I think, 
 that my talk with Mr. Caliph the evening before had 
 made me so much bad blood and left me in a savage 
 mood. Mr. Frank answered that he had not stayed 
 away by accident he had stayed away on purpose ; 
 he had been for several days at Saratoga, and on re- 
 turning to Cornerville had taken quarters at the inn 
 in the village. He had no intention of presuming 
 further on Eunice's hospitality, and had walked over 
 from the hotel simply to bid us good -evening and 
 give an account of himself. 
 
 " My dear Mr. Frank, your account is not clear ! " I 
 said, laughing. " What in the world were you doing 
 at Saratoga ? " I must add that his humility had com- 
 pletely disarmed me ; I was ashamed of the brutality 
 with which I had received him, and convinced afresh 
 that he was the best fellow in the world. 
 
 " What was I doing at Saratoga ? I was trying 
 hard to forget you ! " 
 
 This was Mr. Frank's rejoinder; and I give it ex- 
 actly as he uttered it ; or rather, not exactly, inasmuch 
 as I cannot give the tone the quick, startling tremor 
 of his voice. But those are the words with which he 
 answered my superficially-intended question. I saw in 
 
294 TALES OF THREE CITIES. [n. 
 
 a moment that lie meant a great deal by them I 
 became aware that we were suddenly in deep waters ; 
 that he was, at least, and that he was trying to draw 
 me into the stream. My surprise was immense, com- 
 plete ; I had absolutely not suspected what he went on 
 to say to me. He said many things but I needn't 
 write them here. It is not in detail that I see the 
 propriety of narrating this incident ; I suppose a woman 
 may be trusted to remember the form of such assur- 
 ances. Let me simply say that the poor dear young 
 man has an idea that he wants to marry me. For a 
 moment, just a moment I thought he was jesting ; 
 then I saw, in the twilight, that he was pale with seri- 
 ousness. He is perfectly sincere. It is strange, but 
 it is real, and, moreover, it is his own affair. For my- 
 self, when I have said I was amazed, I have said 
 everything; en tdte-ti-tSte with myself I needn't blush 
 and protest. I was not in the least annoyed or alarmed ; 
 I was filled with kindness and consideration, and I 
 was extremely interested. He talked to me for a 
 quarter of an hour ; it seemed a very long time. I 
 asked him to go away; not to wait till Eunice and 
 Mrs. Ermine should come back. Of course I refused 
 him, by the way. 
 
 It was the last thing I was expecting at this time 
 of day, and it gave me a great deal to think of. I lay 
 awake that night ; I found I was more agitated than I 
 supposed, and all sorts of visions came and went in my 
 head. I shall not marry the young Adrian : I am 
 bound to say that vision was not one of them ; but as 
 I thought over what he had said to me it became more 
 clear, more conceivable. I began now to be a little 
 surprised at my surprise. It appears that I have had 
 the honour to please him from the first; when he 
 
ii.] THE IMPEESSIONS OF A COUSIN. 295 
 
 began to come to see us it was not for Eunice, it was 
 for me. He made a general confession on this subject. 
 He was afraid of me ; he thought me proud, sarcastic, 
 cold, a hundred horrid things ; it didn't seem to him 
 possible that we should ever be on a footing of familiarity 
 which would enable him to propose to me. He re- 
 garded me, in short, as unattainable, out of the question, 
 and made up his mind to admire me for ever in silence. 
 (In plain English, I suppose he thought I was too old, 
 and he has simply got used to the difference in our 
 years.) But he wished to be near me, to see me, and 
 hear me (I am really writing more details than seem 
 worth while) ; so that when his step-brother recom- 
 mended him to try and marry Eunice he jumped at 
 the opportunity to make good his place. This situation 
 reconciled everything. He could oblige his brother, he 
 could pay a high compliment to my cousin, and he 
 could see me every day or two. He was convinced 
 from the first that he was in no danger; he was 
 morally sure that Eunice would never smile upon his 
 suit. He didn't know why, and he doesn't know why 
 yet ; it was only an instinct. That suit was avowedly 
 perfunctory ; still the young Adrian has been a great 
 comedian. He assured me that if he had proved to 
 be wrong, and Eunice had suddenly accepted him, he 
 would have gone with her to the altar and made her 
 an excellent husband ; for he would have acquired in 
 this manner the certainty of seeing for the rest of his 
 life a great deal of me ! To think of one's possessing, 
 all unexpected, this miraculous influence ! When he 
 came down here, after Eunice had refused him, it was 
 simply for the pleasure of living in the house with me ; 
 from that moment there was no comedy everything 
 was clear and comfortable betwixt him and Eunice. I 
 
296 TALES OF THREE CITIES. [n. 
 
 asked him if he meant by this that she knew of the 
 sentiments he entertained for her companion, and he 
 answered that he had never breathed a word on this 
 subject, and nattered himself that he had kept the thing 
 dark. He had no reason to believe that she guessed 
 his motives, and I may add that I have none either ; 
 they are altogether too extraordinary ! As I have said, 
 it was simply time, and the privilege of seeing more of 
 me, that had dispelled his hesitation. I didn't reason 
 with him ; and though, once I was fairly enlightened, I 
 gave him the most respectful attention, I didn't appear 
 to consider his request too seriously. But I did touch 
 upon the fact that I am five or six years older than he: 
 I suppose I needn't mention that it was not in a spirit 
 of coquetry. His rejoinder was very gallant ; but it 
 belongs to the class of details. He is really in love 
 heaven forgive him ! but I shall not marry him. How 
 strange are the passions of men ! 
 
 I saw Mr. Frank the next day ; I had given him 
 leave to come back at noon. He joined me in the 
 grounds, where as usual I had set up my easel. I left 
 it to his discretion to call first at the house and explain 
 both his absence and his presence to Eunice and Mrs. 
 Ermine the latter especially ignorant as yet of his 
 visit the night before, of which I had not spoken to 
 them. He sat down beside me on a garden-chair and 
 watched me as I went on with my work. For half an 
 hour very few words passed between us ; I felt that he 
 was happy to sit there, to be near me, to see me 
 strange as it seems ! and for myself there was a certain 
 sweetness in knowing it, though it was the sweetness 
 of charity, not of elation or triumph. He must have 
 seen I was only pretending to paint if he followed 
 my brush, which I suppose he didn't. My mind was 
 
IL] THE IMPKESSIONS OF A COUSIN. 29*7 
 
 full of a determination I had arrived at after many 
 waverings in the hours of the night. It had come to 
 me toward morning as a kind of inspiration. I could 
 never marry him, but was there not some way in which 
 I could utilise his devotion ? At the present moment, 
 only forty-eight hours later, it seems strange, unreal, 
 almost grotesque ; but for ten minutes I thought I saw 
 the light. As we sat there under the great trees, in 
 the stillness of the noon, I suddenly turned and said to 
 him 
 
 " I thank you for everything you have told me ; it 
 gives me very nearly all the pleasure you could wish. 
 I believe in you; I accept every assurance of your 
 devotion. I think that devotion is capable of going 
 very far ; and I am going to put it to a tremendous 
 test, one of the greatest, probably, to which a man was 
 ever subjected." 
 
 He stared, leaning forward, with his hands on his 
 knees. "Any test any test " he murmured. 
 
 " Don't give up Eunice, then ; make another trial ; 
 I wish her to marry you ! " 
 
 My words may have sounded like an atrocious 
 joke, but they represented for me a great deal of hope 
 and cheer. They brought a deep blush into Adrian 
 Frank's face; he winced a little, as if he had been 
 struck by a hand whose blow he could not return, and 
 the tears suddenly started to his eyes. " Oh, Miss 
 Condit ! " he exclaimed. 
 
 What I saw before me was bright and definite ; his 
 distress seemed to me no obstacle., and I went on with 
 a serenity of which I longed to make him perceive 
 the underlying support. " Of course what I say seems 
 to you like a deliberate insult ; but nothing would 
 induce me to give you pain if it were possible to spare 
 
298 TALES OF THREE CITIES. [n. 
 
 you. But it isn't possible, my dear friend ; it isn't 
 possible. There is pain for you in the best thing I 
 can say to you ; there are situations in life in which 
 we can only accept our pain. I can never marry you ; 
 I shall never marry any one. I am an old maid, and 
 how can an old maid have a husband? I will be 
 your friend, your sister, your brother, your mother, but 
 I will never be your wife. I should like immensely 
 to be your brother, for I don't like the brother you 
 have got, and I think you deserve a better one. I 
 believe, as I tell you, in everything you have said to 
 me in your affection, your tenderness, your honesty, 
 the full consideration you have given to the whole 
 matter. I am happier and richer for knowing it all ; 
 and I can assure you that it gives something to life 
 which life didn't have before. We shall be good 
 friends, dear friends, always, whatever happens. But 
 I can't be your wife I want you for some one else. 
 You will say I have changed that I ought to have 
 spoken in this way three months ago. But I haven't 
 changed it is circumstances that have changed. I 
 see reasons for your marrying my cousin that I didn't 
 see then. I can't say that she will listen to you now, 
 any more than she did then ; I don't speak of her ; I 
 speak only of you and of myself. I wish you to make 
 another attempt ; and I wish you to make it, this time, 
 with my full confidence and support. Moreover, I 
 attach a condition to it a condition I will tell you 
 presently. Do you think me slightly demented, 
 malignantly perverse, atrociously cruel ? If you could 
 see the bottom of my heart you would find something 
 there which, I think, would almost give you joy. To 
 ask you to do something you don't want to do as a 
 substitute for something you desire, and to attach to 
 
ii.] THE IMPRESSIONS OF A COUSIN. 299 
 
 the hard achievement a condition which will require 
 a good deal of thinking of and will certainly make it 
 harder you may well believe I have some extra- 
 ordinary reason for taking such a line as this. For 
 remember, to begin with, that I can never marry you." 
 
 " Never never never ? " 
 
 "Never, never, never." 
 
 " And what is your extraordinary reason ? " 
 
 " Simply that I wish Eunice to have your protec- 
 tion, your kindness, your fortune." 
 
 "My fortune?" 
 
 " She has lost her own. She will be poor." 
 
 " Pray, how has she lost it ? " the poor fellow asked, 
 beginning to frown, and more and more bewildered. 
 
 "I can't tell you that, and you must never ask. 
 But the fact is certain. The greater part of her 
 property has gone ; she has known it for some little 
 time." 
 
 " For some little time ? Why, she never showed 
 any change." 
 
 " You never saw it, that was all ! You were 
 thinking of me," and I believe I accompanied this 
 remark with a smile a smile which was most in- 
 considerate, for it could only mystify him more. 
 
 I think at first he scarcely believed me. " What a 
 singular time to choose to give a large party ! " he ex- 
 claimed, looking at me with eyes quite unlike his old 
 or rather his young ones ; eyes that, instead of 
 overlooking half the things before them (which was 
 their former habit), tried to see a great deal more in 
 my face, in my words, than was visible on the surface. 
 I don't know what poor Adrian Frank saw I shall 
 never know all that he saw. 
 
 "I agree with you that it was a very singular 
 
300 TALES OF THREE CITIES. [11. 
 
 time," I said. "You don't understand me you can't 
 I don't expect you to ;" I went on. " That is what 
 I mean by devotion, and that is the kind of appeal I 
 make to you : to take me on trust, to act in the dark, 
 to do something simply because I wish it." 
 
 He looked at me as if he would fathom the depths 
 of my soul, and my soul had never seemed to myself 
 so deep. " To marry your cousin that's all ? " he 
 said, with a strange little laugh. 
 
 " Oh no, it's not all : to be very kind to her as 
 well." 
 
 " To give her plenty of money, above all ? " 
 
 " You make me feel very ridiculous ; but I should 
 not make this request of you if you had not a fortune." 
 
 " She can have my money without marrying me." 
 
 " That's absurd. How could she take your money?" 
 
 " How, then, can she take me ? " 
 
 " That's exactly what I wish to see. I told you 
 with my own lips, weeks ago, that she would only 
 marry a man she should love; and I may seem to 
 contradict myself in taking up now a supposition so 
 different. But, as I tell you, everything has changed." 
 
 " You think her capable, in other words, of marrying 
 for money." 
 
 " For money ? Is your money all there is of you ? 
 Is there a better fellow than you is there a more 
 perfect gentleman ? " 
 
 He turned away his face at this, leaned it in his 
 hands and groaned. I pitied him, but I wonder now 
 that I shouldn't have pitied him more ; that my pity 
 should not have checked me. But I was too full of 
 my idea. " It's like a fate," he murmured ; " first my 
 brother, and then you. I can't understand." 
 
 " Yes, I know your brother wants it wants it now 
 
ii.] THE IMPRESSIONS OF A COUSIN. 301 
 
 more than ever. But I don't care what your brother 
 wants ; and my idea is entirely independent of his. I 
 have not the least conviction that you will succeed at 
 first any better than you have done already. But it 
 may be only a question of time, if you will wait and 
 watch, and let me help you. You know you asked 
 me to help you before, and then I wouldn't. But I 
 repeat it again and again, at present everything is 
 changed. Let me wait with you, let me watch with 
 you. If you succeed, you will be very dear to me ; if 
 you fail, you will be still more so. You see it's an act 
 of devotion, if there ever was one. I am quite aware 
 that I ask of you something unprecedented and ex- 
 traordinary. Oh, it may easily be too much for you. 
 I can only put it before you that's all ; and as I say, 
 I can help you. You will both be my children I 
 shall be near you always. If you can't marry me, 
 perhaps you will make up your mind that this is the 
 next best thing. You know you said that last night, 
 yourself." 
 
 He had begun to listen to me a little, as if he were 
 being persuaded. " Of course, I should let her know 
 that I love you." 
 
 "She is capable of saying that you can't love me 
 more than she does." 
 
 " I don't believe she is capable of saying any such 
 folly. But we shall see." 
 
 " Yes ; but not to-day, not to-morrow. Not at all 
 for the present. You must wait a great many 
 months." 
 
 " I will wait as long as you please." 
 
 " And you mustn't say a word to me of the kind 
 you said last night." 
 
 " Is that your condition ? " 
 
302 TALES OF THEEE CITIES. [n. 
 
 " Oh no ; my condition is a very different matter, 
 and very difficult. It will probably spoil everything." 
 
 " Please, then, let me hear it at once." 
 
 " It is very hard for me to mention it ; you must 
 give me time." I turned back to my little easel and 
 began to daub again ; but I think my hand trembled, 
 for my heart was beating fast. There was a silence 
 of many moments ; I couldn't make up my mind to 
 speak. 
 
 " How in the world has she lost her money ? " Mr. 
 Frank asked, abruptly, as if the question had just 
 come into his mind. " Hasn't my brother the charge 
 of her affairs ? " 
 
 " Mr. Caliph is her trustee. I can't tell you how 
 the losses have occurred." 
 
 He got up quickly. " Do you mean that they have 
 occurred through him ? " 
 
 I looked up at him, and there was something in 
 his face which made me leave my work and rise also. 
 " I will tell you my condition now," I said. " It is 
 that you should ask no questions not one ! " This 
 was not what I had had in my mind ; but I had not 
 courage for more, and this had to serve. 
 
 He had turned very pale, and I laid my hand on 
 his arm, while he looked at me as if he wished to 
 wrest my secret out of my eyes. My secret, I call it, 
 by courtesy; God knows I had come terribly near 
 telling it. God will forgive me, but Eunice probably 
 will not. Had I broken my vow, or had I kept it ? 
 I asked myself this, and the answer, so far as I read 
 it in Mr. Frank's eyes, was not reassuring. I dreaded 
 his next question ; but when it came it was not what 
 I had expected. Something violent took place in his 
 own mind something I couldn't follow. 
 
II.] THE IMPRESSIONS OF A COUSIN. 303 
 
 "If I do what you ask me, what will be my 
 reward ? " 
 
 " You will make me very happy." 
 
 " And what shall I make your cousin ? God help 
 us ! " 
 
 " Less wretched than she is to-day." 
 
 " Is she ' wretched ' ? " he asked, frowning as he did 
 before a most distressing change in his mild mask. 
 
 " Ah, when I think that I have to tell you that 
 that you have never noticed it I despair!" I ex- 
 claimed, with a laugh. 
 
 I had laid my hand on his arm, and he placed his 
 right hand upon it, holding it there. He kept it 
 a moment in his grasp, and then he said, "Don't 
 despair ! " 
 
 " Promise me to wait/' I answered. " Everything 
 is in your waiting." 
 
 " I promise you ! " After which he asked me to 
 kiss him, and I did so, on the lips. It was as if he 
 were starting on a journey leaving me for a long 
 time. 
 
 " Will you come when I send for you ? " I asked. 
 
 " I adore you ! " he said ; and he turned quickly 
 away, to leave the place without going near the house. 
 I watched him, and in a moment he was gone. He 
 has not reappeared ; and when I found, at lunch, that 
 neither Eunice nor Mrs. Ermine alluded to his visit, 
 I determined to keep the matter to myself. I said 
 nothing about it, and up to the moment Eunice was 
 taken ill the next evening he was not mentioned 
 between us. I believe Mrs. Ermine more than once 
 gave herself up to wonder as to his whereabouts, and 
 declared that he had not the perfect manners of his 
 step -brother, who was a religious observer of the 
 
304 TALES OF THREE CITIES. [n. 
 
 convenances; but I think I managed to listen without 
 confusion. Nevertheless, I had a bad conscience, and 
 I have it still. It throbs a good deal as I sit there 
 with Eunice in her darkened room. I have given her 
 away ; I have broken my vow. But what I wrote 
 above is not true ; she will forgive me ! I sat at my 
 easel for an hour after Mr. Frank left me, and then 
 suddenly I found that I had cured myself of my folly 
 by giving it out. It was the result of a sudden passion 
 of desire to do something for Eunice. Passion is 
 blind, and when I opened my eyes I saw ten thousand 
 difficulties ; that is, I saw one, which contained all the 
 rest. That evening I wrote to Mr. Frank, to his New 
 York address, to tell him that I had had a fit of 
 madness, and that it had passed away ; but that I was 
 sorry to say it was not any more possible for me to 
 marry him. I have had no answer to this letter ; but 
 what answer can he make to that last declaration ? 
 He will continue to adore me. How strange are the 
 passions of men ! 
 
 New York, November 20. I have been silent for 
 three months, for good reasons. Eunice was ill for- 
 many weeks, but there was never a moment when I 
 was really alarmed about her; I knew she would 
 recover. In the last days of October she was strong 
 enough to be brought up to town, where she had 
 business to transact, and now she is almost herself 
 again. I say almost, advisedly ; for she will never be 
 herself, her old, sweet, trustful self, so far as I am 
 concerned. She has simply not forgiven me ! Strange 
 things have happened things that I don't dare to 
 consider too closely, lest I should not forgive myself. 
 Eunice is in complete possession of her property ! 
 Mr. Caliph has made over to her everything every- 
 
ii.] THE IMPRESSIONS OF A COUSIN. 305 
 
 thing that had passed away ; everything of which, 
 three months ago, he could give no account whatever. 
 He was with her in the country for a long day before 
 we came up to town (during which I took care not to 
 meet her), and after our return he was in and out of 
 this house repeatedly. I once asked Eunice what he 
 had to say to her, and she answered that he was 
 " explaining." A day or two later she told me that 
 he had given a complete account of her affairs ; every- 
 thing was in order ; she had been wrong in what she 
 told me before. Beyond this little statement, how- 
 ever, she did no further penance for the impression 
 she had given of Mr. Caliph's earlier conduct. She 
 doesn't yet know what to think ; she only feels that if 
 she has recovered her property there has been some 
 interference ; and she traces, or at least imputes, such 
 interference to me. If I have interfered, I have broken 
 my vow ; and for this, as I say, the gentle creature 
 can't forgive me. If the passions of men are strange, 
 the passions of women are stranger still ! It was 
 sweeter for her to suffer at Mr. Caliph's hands than to 
 receive her simple dues from them. She looks at me 
 askance, and her coldness shows through a conscien- 
 tious effort not to let me see the change in her feeling. 
 Then she is puzzled and mystified ; she can't tell what 
 has happened, or how and why it has happened. She 
 has waked up from her illness into a different world 
 a world in which Mr. Caliph's accounts were correct 
 after all; in which, with the washing away of his 
 stains, the colour has been quite washed out of his 
 rich physiognomy. She vaguely feels that a sacrifice, 
 a great effort of some kind, has been made for her, 
 whereas her plan of life was to make the sacrifices and 
 efforts herself. Yet she asks me no questions ; the 
 
 x 
 
306 TALES OF THREE CITIES. [u. 
 
 property is her right, after all, and I think there are 
 certain things she is afraid to know. But I am more 
 afraid than she, for it comes over me that a great 
 sacrifice has indeed been made. I have not seen 
 Adrian Frank since he parted from me under the trees 
 three months ago. He has gone to Europe, and the 
 day before he left I got a note from him. It contained 
 only these words : " When you send for me I will 
 come. I am waiting, as you told me." It is my 
 belief that up to the moment I spoke of Eunice's loss 
 of money and requested him to ask no questions, he 
 had not definitely suspected his noble kinsman, but 
 that my words kindled a train that lay all ready. He 
 went away then to his shame, to the intolerable weight 
 of it, and to heaven knows what sickening explanations 
 with his step -brother ! That gentleman has a still 
 more brilliant bloom ; he looks to my mind exactly 
 as people look who have accepted a sacrifice ; and 
 he hasn't had another word to say about Eunice's 
 marrying Mr. Adrian Erank. Mrs. Ermine sticks to 
 her idea that Mr. Caliph and Eunice will make a 
 match; but my belief is that Eunice is cured. Oh 
 yes, she is cured ! But I have done more than I 
 meant to do, and I have not done it as I meant to do 
 it ; and I am very weary, and I shall write no more. 
 
 November 2 7. Oh yes, Eunice is cured ! And that 
 is what she has not forgiven me. Mr. Caliph told 
 her yesterday that Mr. Frank meant to spend the 
 winter in Eome. 
 
 December 3. I have decided to return to Europe, 
 and have written about my apartment in Eome. I 
 shall leave New York, if possible, on the 10th. Eunice 
 tells me she can easily believe I shall be happier 
 there. 
 
ii.] THE IMPKESSIONS OF A COUSIN. 307 
 
 December 7. I must note something I had the 
 satisfaction to-day to say to Mr. Caliph. He has not 
 been here for three weeks, but this afternoon he came 
 to call. He is no longer the trustee ; he is only the 
 visitor. I was alone in the library, into which he was 
 ushered ; and it was ten minutes before Eunice ap- 
 peared. We had some talk, though my disgust for 
 him is now unspeakable. At first it was of a very 
 perfunctory kind; but suddenly he said, with more 
 than his old impudence, " That was a most extraor- 
 dinary interview of ours, at Cornerville ! " I was sur- 
 prised at his saying only this, for I expected him to 
 take his revenge on me by some means or other for 
 having put his brother on the scent of his misdeeds. 
 I can only account for his silence on that subject by 
 the supposition that Mr. Frank has been able to 
 extract from him some pledge that I shall not be 
 molested. He was, however, such an image of un- 
 righteous success that the sight of him filled me with 
 gall, and I tried to think of something which would 
 make him smart. 
 
 " I don't know what you have done, nor how you 
 have done it," I said ; " but you took a very round- 
 about way to arrive at certain ends. There was a 
 time when you might have married Eunice." 
 
 It was of course nothing new that we were frank 
 with each other, and he only repeated, smiling, " Mar- 
 ried Eunice ? " 
 
 " She was very much in love with you last spring." 
 
 " Very much in love with me ? " 
 
 " Oh, it's over now. Can't you imagine that ? She's 
 cured." 
 
 He broke into a laugh, but I felt I had startled 
 him, 
 
308 TALES OF THREE CITIES. [n. 
 
 " You are the most delightful woman ! " he cried. 
 
 " Think how much simpler it would have been 
 I mean originally, when things were right, if they 
 ever were right. Don't you see my point ? But now 
 it's too late. She has seen you when you were not on 
 show. I assure you she is cured ! " 
 
 At this moment Eunice came in, and just after- 
 wards I left the room. I am sure it was a revelation, 
 and that I have given him a mauvais quart d'heure. 
 
 Rome, February 23. When I came back to this 
 dear place Adrian Frank was not here, and I learned 
 that he had gone to Sicily. A week ago I wrote to 
 him : " You said you would come if I should send for 
 you. I should be glad if you would come now." 
 Last evening he appeared, and I told him that I could 
 no longer endure my suspense in regard to a certain 
 subject. Would he kindly inform me what he had 
 done in New York after he left me under the trees at 
 Cornerville ? Of what sacrifice had he been guilty ; 
 to what high generosity terrible to me to think of 
 had he committed himself ? He would tell me very 
 little; but he is almost a poor man. He has just 
 enough income to live in Italy. 
 
 May 9. Mrs. Ermine has taken it into her head 
 to write to me. I have heard from her three times ; 
 and in her last letter, received yesterday, she returns 
 to her old refrain that Eunice and Mr. Caliph will 
 soon be united. I don't know what may be going 
 on ; but can it be possible that I put it into his head ? 
 Truly, I have a felicitous touch ! 
 
 May 15. I told Adrian yesterday that I would 
 marry him if ever Eunice should marry Mr. Caliph. 
 It was the first time I had mentioned his step- 
 brother's name to him since the explanation I had 
 
ii.] THE IMPRESSIONS OF A COUSIN. 309 
 
 attempted to have with him after he came back to 
 Home ; and he evidently didn't like it at all. 
 
 In the Tyrol, August. I sent Mrs. Ermine a 
 little water-colour in return for her last letter, for I 
 can't write to her, and that is easier. She now writes 
 me again, in order to get another water-colour. She 
 speaks of course of Eunice and Mr. Caliph, and for 
 the first time there appears a certain reality in what 
 she says. She complains that Eunice is very slow in 
 coming to the point, and relates that poor Mr. Caliph, 
 who has taken her into his confidence, seems at times 
 almost to despair. Nothing would suit him better of 
 course than to appropriate two fortunes : two are so 
 much better than one. But however much he may 
 have explained, he can hardly have explained every- 
 thing. Adrian Erank is in Scotland; in writing to 
 him three days ago I had occasion to repeat that I 
 will marry him on the day on which a certain other 
 marriage takes place. In that way I am safe. I 
 shall send another water - colour to Mrs. Ermine. 
 Water-colours or no, Eunice doesn't write to me. It 
 is clear that she hasn't forgiven me ! She regards me 
 as perjured ; and of course I am. Perhaps she will 
 marry him after all. 
 
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