LIBRARY 
 
 UNIVERSITY Of 
 CALIFOiNlA J 
 
. 
 
 >'. 
 
, 
 
NEYER FOKGOTTEN. 
 
 BY 
 
 PERCY FITZGERALD, M.A., 
 
 AUTHOR OF " BELLA. DONNA," ETC, 
 
 NEW EDITION. 
 
 LONDON : 
 CHAPMAN AND HALL, 193, PICCADILLY. 
 
TO 
 
 CHARLES DICKENS, 
 
 AS A SMALL TOKEN 
 
 or 
 
 TERt GREAT REGARD AND ADMIRATION. 
 
 680 
 
NEVER FORGOTTEN, 
 
 CHAPTER THE FIRST. 
 
 EASTPORT. 
 
 A FEW cottages scattered like odd grains of corn along a 
 short strip of English coast after a rickety and precarious 
 infancy, had grown up into a village. With such nutriment as 
 fishing and smuggling, it became a strong child. Later, in the 
 war times, it was fancied by the military authorities : a fort and 
 large barracks were built, and soldiers sent. From that moment 
 it became respectable, and was called Eastport. In a short time 
 it was timidly advancing to the grade of watering-place a shy 
 debutante raised from the ranks, and apparently as ill at ease in 
 its new finery of dotted villas and dampish plaster terraces, as the 
 sergeant who has been made uncomfortable by a commission. 
 But in ten years more its patent would be regularly made out, 
 and it would be enrolled permanently among the dignified 
 watering-places. The threads of railway were already con- 
 verging and gathering up there, as into a hand. Beading after 
 beading of snow-white terraces would embroider the edges of 
 the clifls. A monster hotel, as white and bright as if it wen 
 every morning burnished by mammoth housemaids, and teeming 
 with life like a monster warren, would have burst out on the 
 hill, and noble persons have poured in, and have been cramped 
 in tight drawing-rooms, scented with new plaster, at twenty 
 guineas a week. A glistening strand reclaimed from ugly 
 boulders, would have burst into gay files of sentry-boxes on 
 
$ Never Forgotttn. 
 
 wheels, travelling out in the sun to the deeper waters, and have 
 become an animated encampment, where the splash and the 
 plunge marked time, and where countless novels and news- 
 papers would be read to the pleasant music of children's prattle 
 and young ladies' voices. 
 
 But that moment had not yet come. The fairy queen of 
 fashion, always fanciful and arbitrary, had not yet let her robe 
 fall upon this corner, nor touched it with her golden wand. She 
 had not given the signal for the rush. So it lay now in a state 
 of comparative squalor, enjoying a sort of vegetable life just as 
 its half-dozen stranded fishing-boats lay over on their sides in a 
 helpless and sluggish imbecility. A little pier straggled out 
 awkwardly and timorously to sea : but by-and-by there would be 
 a vote in Parliament, and a new harbour, and fast sailing-packets 
 shooting across with mails to the Dutch and Belgian coasts 
 opposite. 
 
 On the lowest tier, next the shore, were the fishermen's huts. 
 A couple of sloping roads ran up the cliffs like ribbons, and 
 became disorderly streets, and on the top the bits of terraces 
 and strips of villas broke out in spasmodic fashion. These 
 were in such white patches, with such sudden gaps where an 
 ambitious speculator who had gone in for an entire terrace had 
 been compelled to stop short ingloriously that the whole cliff 
 seemed like one gigantic jaw smiling at the sky, with teeth 
 knocked out here and there. The barracks and fort were far 
 away to the right, on another cliff that looked as soft and 
 crumbly and friable as a crag of ripe old dinner cheese. 
 
 In this way the settlement gradually retreated inland, and the 
 sea colony was linked by a chain of houses straggling like 
 videttes to a genuine country town about a mile away. The 
 country town was proud of its watering-place, and lived and had 
 its being by two artificial stimulants one a foot regiment and 
 some artillerymen, whose officers were precious to the neigh- 
 bourhood 5 the other a steeple-chase of some mark, which 
 annually brought down a strange miscellany, who for a couple 
 of nights swarmed over the little town, and utilised even its 
 haylofts. As yet life was to be enjoyed there with economy, 
 and it was therefore in esteem with many genteel families 
 whose means were not on the same high level as their gentility. 
 Life, too, was strongly savoured by the presence of the officers. 
 The warm tint of their dress became necessary to the landscape, 
 as an agreeable patch of colour, and lit it up as the late Mr, Turner 
 did a dull sea-piece with a vermilion buoy. 
 
Eastport. 3 
 
 In these barracks which were rude and almost squalid in 
 their discomfort, and described a dozen times in each day as 
 " this d d infernal hole" one night Captain Fermor and a 
 friend, who was called "young Brett/' were sitting at the fire. 
 The daily feast was done, and those who had feasted were 
 scattered. "Young Brett" was a new ensign, white-haired to 
 a strange degree, and half a child in appearance, but he was full 
 of respect and admiration for men of experience like the Mentor 
 beside him. The Mentor beside him was very fair, and pervaded 
 by a general yellow tone with a corn-coloured moustache. His 
 legs were upon a chair, and on his lips was a steady air of 
 composed indifference and aimost habitual disgust. 
 
 The fledgeling ensign's enthusiasm was not yet chilled. He 
 was describing a hunt. 
 
 "We then went right through the Old Field/* he said, "up 
 to the brook which runs into the mill-race, where there is such 
 a stiff jump and such a fall ! You never saw such a business : 
 every second fellow down* Old Bowley was well pounded." 
 
 " They don't know how to ride/' said Captain Fermor, tran- 
 quilly. 
 
 " I went over with the rest," said the white boy, a little 
 ruefully, " and got such a ducking ! Some one pulled me out. 
 That beast I rode pulled so." 
 
 " Some way it always is the beast we ride/' said the other, 
 with the same inert smile. " But it's not a country for a 
 gentleman to hunt over. I had to give it up myself. You 
 know I've seen the proper sort of thing. Who were out? 
 
 " The usual lot j and that Hanbury, as usual, leading. He 
 got over the brook. But then he rides such horses !" 
 
 The right side of the other's lip went up a little at this speech, 
 and he raised himself in his chair. 
 
 " Of course he did ! These bumpkins can scramble over every 
 drain in the place. / have broken a horse's back before now 
 over a little furrow. Any fool can make a show on a great 
 strong brute that knows every stone and hedge. If I chose, 1 
 suppose I could do it with the best of 'em. But it wouldn't 
 repay me the trouble." 
 
 Captain Fermor had an eye-glass which he used occasionally, 
 being a little near-sighted j but he had another moral bit of 
 crystal, through which he unconsciously viewed his own personal 
 nature. It was a sort of polite and social Pantheism. He really 
 fancied that his "ro cyw," as the Germans call it the great 
 "I," the grand "Moi" pervaded all things, and that every- 
 
q Never Forgotten. 
 
 thing that was said or done, in which he was called on to s f>eak 
 or do, must have necessary reference to him. 
 
 " But he rode like a man," said the white-haired youth, with 
 a thoughtful admiration, " all through the same never thrown 
 out a moment. I wonder what he gave for that horse ? Two- 
 two-nought ? " 
 
 "Bred him, most likely, bred him to sell. That is his 
 line. It is the way with all these low farmer fellows." 
 
 "But you recollect the parson said the other day he was of 
 good family Sir Thomas Hanbury or somebody like that.'' 
 
 "That don't make him a good huntsman," asked Captain 
 Fermor, smiling, "does it? You are a wonderful logician!'' 
 Then added, " It's nothing to me who he is, or what he is ; 
 /don't care, I'm sure." 
 
 The white ensign, still following his hero with a smile of 
 admiration as he flew over a jump, went on the same key of 
 panegyric, " As I was coming home dead beat (would you 
 believe it ?), I saw his horse at the gate of that terrace where 
 those girls live Raglan-terrace and he himself with them in 
 the window, just as fresh as if he were out of his bath." 
 
 Captain Fermor gave a sort of short contemptuous sniff, and 
 his fawn-coloured moustache, which hung over his mouth went 
 up again. One limb, too, dropped off the chair. But he said 
 nothing. 
 
 " They say he's going to be married to one of them," said the 
 ensign -, " the younger one, so the doctor told me to-day. But 
 mind, don't say I said it, because it may be only a bit of 
 gossip." 
 
 The way in which Captain Fermor opened his aluminium- 
 looking eyes on the youth, was something to see. " Why should 
 I, pray ? *' he said. " Whom should I tell, anyone ? I suppose 
 I shall have forgotten it all in five minutes. What on earth, 
 my good child, can you suppose these people and their stories 
 are to me? It is very well for you, who have seen no life as 
 yet. You may be quite easy in your mind, and tell your 
 apothecary or parson whose names, thank God, I don't know 
 that their secret is quite safe with me because quite for- 
 gotten." 
 
 The boy coloured up, and became pink at his forehead, which 
 contrasted oddly with his white hair. Captain Fermor, really 
 pleased with himself for having spoken with such success and 
 such an undercurrent of quiet sarcasm, became of a sudden free 
 and good-humoured. 
 
Easlport, 5 
 
 * f And so you saw these girls? They are pretty," he said, 
 making that allowance. 
 
 "Yes, yes ! " said the other, eagerly; "there's one very hand- 
 some. I wish I wish," he added, " I knew her. I have tried 
 every way. But I am told they won't know people." 
 
 " /could have known them fifty times over if I wanted," saFd 
 Captain Fermor. "There were people plaguing me a dozen 
 times. But 1 don't care for that sort of thing. It's not my line, 
 you see. Made it a rule not to make new acquaintances more 
 than I can manage. People say to me, I wish you would let 
 us introduce you to the the what do you call them ? " 
 
 " Manuels! Manuels ! " said the youth. 
 
 "But I don't want to. I don't care. There are fellows whfc 
 want to know all the world. I'm not one of that sort." 
 
 " Oh," said the young ensign, with an unconscious piteonsness, 
 " if I could only manage it ! They are so handsome ; and if I 
 could get to know them ! If you could only " 
 
 "Out of the question, my good Brett," said Captain Fermor, 
 becoming cold again. " I never do that sort of thing, unless for 
 friends, you know. Besides, take my advice -, don't trouble your 
 head about that direction. I fancy you would scarcely be the 
 description of thing for them, you see." 
 
 In many of those people in whom personality or this organic 
 egotism is strong, a sort of cruel truth breaks out, almost "brutal," 
 as the French put it. But it is only a logical development, and 
 really almost unconscious. From it the white-haired ensign 
 suffered, and there was silence in consequence for a few moments. 
 Captain Fermor, still in good humour, was still thinking how 
 placidly he could turn a bit of quiet, gentlemanly sarcasm. A 
 tranquil smile was mantling about his mouth, and broke through 
 the blue clouds of his cigar, like a little human sun. 
 
 " I suppose," he said, after a time, and taking his cigar out to 
 look at it narrowly "I suppose that strong-built brute of his 
 will be entered for the steeple-chase ? " 
 
 "Yes," said the youth, shortly, and there was a wounded 
 modulation in the key. But the captain, wrapped up in his 
 egotistic cloak, had now travelled miles from any results his 
 speech might have produced. 
 
 " And I suppose," added the captain, " that fellow Banbury- 
 Han bury will ride him ? " 
 
 "Yes," said the youth, a little more heartily, and trying to 
 forget his hurt, for his soul was in horses. " Oh, he'll ride. 
 They'll be very good this year. 1 shall ride !" 
 
6 Never Forgotten* 
 
 The captain smiled. Here was another opportunity for strop- 
 ping his satirical blade. 
 
 " Of course they will be good, because you ride, eh ? You will 
 draw the whole country. Don't you see what you lay yourself 
 open to by that loose form of speech? I merely call your 
 attention to it as a friend. Of course it's no affair of mine," 
 
 " Yes, I see. But they are to be first-rate. I have entered 
 Kathleen, and Taylor has entered Malakoff. I am in already for 
 the Welter all gentlemen riders, you know." 
 
 Again the captain began to whet his razor. 
 
 " Gentlemen riders ! Then they must let no natives enter. 
 Good gracious ! what a lot of creatures will start ! " And again 
 he smiled to himself. It was good practice turning this raw child 
 to profit. 
 
 " Brian is to be in," said young Brett, still on the horses, " and 
 Small will ride him himself." 
 
 "Ah ! that is a horse," said Captain Fermor, taking his cigar 
 out of his mouth with real interest. " How he will cut up the 
 local fellows ! And a man that can ride very tolerably. He'll 
 give them a lesson." Here Captain Fermor took a weary stretch, 
 as if life under this accumulation of monotony was indeed a 
 burden. 
 
 And yet, taking the average of his days, and the duties with 
 which he filled in his days, he seemed to enter into its current 
 with something far short of indifference. The truth was, this 
 was only the fruit of his extravagant egotism. For his corps the 
 genuine race of the world was the race that wore uniforms; that 
 is to say, the men whose uniform was scarlet. Other soldiers of 
 other countries were mere impostors, theatrical fellows with 
 gaudy coats. It was notorious there was but one real " Service" 
 known, which was the British. Thus, the bulk of English 
 mankind who did not bear commissions were cagots, and the 
 onus of respectability lay upon them. Again, as with the regi- 
 ment, so with Captain Fermor. Town was the centre, the city 
 of true metal. Town things, bought in Town shops bought, 
 too, at the places where "our fellows " were accustomed to buy 
 the true Procrustean gauge to which all things must be 
 stretched or fitted this was Captain Fermor' s creed. Yet he was 
 a gentlemanly devotee, and did not rant these tenets ; but they 
 were so kneaded into his constitution, air, and deportment, that 
 everything he said, and everything he did,, seemed to whisper an 
 article of this faith. 
 
The Mauuets. * 
 
 CHAPTER THE SECOND. 
 
 THE MANUELS. 
 
 TN the window of that miniature house in Raglan-terrace, 
 where Young Brett had seen the admired horse standing, 
 were the ladies of the Manuel family. The house was Number 
 Four, in one of those terraces which had started so magnificently 
 intending a swoop of at least a street long, but had halted at 
 Number Four, through a sudden spasm. In the window was 
 Mrs. Manuel, a short, handsome, olive-toned, elderly lady, whose 
 hair was iron-grey, and whose eyes travelled faintly from east to 
 west, and back again, but whose face had a worn look of suffer- 
 ing. There was also Violet, her second daughter 5 and Pauline, 
 her eldest, now flashing out in the sunlight, was framed in the 
 window. There admiring Young Brett saw her, in a window 
 to herself, looking out at the noble horse, and falling into a true 
 statuesque attitude into which she fell unconsciouslysome dozen 
 times in the day. 
 
 Young Brett looked wistfully, and languished to know her. 
 But for him, and for such as him, Number Four was as a con- 
 vent of the very strictest order. The face of the second daughter, 
 whom they called Violet, was soft, round, and full, with a 
 strange bright glistening in her eyes, which were large and 
 " fine." About her altogether there was a sense of rich colour, 
 with a sort of soft, sweet, devotional air, as though she had been 
 copied from a saint on an old Italian church wall. 
 
 The hall door was open as Young Brett passed : and coming 
 out with Hanbury, to feel that great horse all over, with that 
 wonder and respect which foreigners have for great English 
 horses, was a son of the house, with black glossy hair that shone 
 and curled, with a faint olive tint about the cheeks, square heavy 
 eyebrows, bluish shading on cheeks and upper lip, where mous- 
 tache would later ripen and flourish, and a thoughtful business 
 air beyond his years. 
 
 He felt and patted the stout strong horse all over. Then 
 Hanbury an over-healthful, pink-cheeked, open-faced man of 
 the country, mounted into his saddle with some pride, for he 
 knew that eyes were upon him, and took off his hat to the win- 
 dows, with an emphasis towards that on the left, where the 
 full-eyed girl was with her mother. Then he made his horse 
 amble and plunge gently, yet with grace, for some purpose of 
 
g J\ever forgot len< 
 
 his own, straggling with him in a sort of sham contest, and 
 finally, as it were, let him have his way, and plunge off in a 
 dignified canter. All this Young Brett saw, as he had seen 
 many such kindred scenes, with a sort of aching. He pined 
 with a boyish pining for ladies' company, and longed to play at 
 knights and social jousts in the drawing-room. 
 
 Manuel the gossips told each other had been a sort of 
 Anglo-Spanish merchant, who had lived years at Cadiz, and had 
 married a Spanish woman Wine was his profession, and in that 
 faith he had lived and died, sending home butts and casks every 
 week. To the figures that flitted round in the little watering- 
 place, this meagre detail had travelled j and, meagre as it was, 
 no one knew how it had been found out. Still, it was welcome 
 as far as it went. And one more skilful discoverer than the rest 
 was able to point to some cloud or mystery which hung between 
 them and Mr. Manuel's end. For it was ascertained that the 
 butts and casks had broken up suddenly, and in that wreck the 
 merchant had disappeared. In short, there was a story and 
 mystery, or there should be a story and mystery, which, being 
 unresolved, caused much torture and suffering in the neighbour- 
 hood. Public interest in their regard was the more inflamed by 
 the jealous reserve they maintained in their plaster-covered little 
 castle on Raglan-terrace. The whole colony struggled to know 
 them, men made violent efforts to pour in and carry an acquaint- 
 ance by assault, but ineffectually. Only Mr. John Hanbury, 
 who rode the admired horse, had found some breach through 
 which he had stolen in. 
 
 It seemed natural enough to those who knew him well $ for 
 he was penetrated through and through with a blunt gentleness 
 and simplicity which, of all characters in daily currency, is the 
 most acceptable, and makes the most way. The plated 
 artificial world likes this sort of nature, and inhales it as it does a 
 sea-breeze at Brighton. He had been in India in some civil 
 station, had broken down physically, and had come home, 
 thirty-eight years old, with six feet of height, broad shoulders, 
 a square, rather massive face, a large kindly eye, black glossy 
 hair, and a black moustache as glossy. He delighted in 
 sport, had some dozen guns or so on his shelves with which he 
 had shot the tiger and the elephant, and respected the character 
 of a brave and upright horse pretty much as he did that of an 
 upright Christian. He spoke with an earnestness verging upon 
 dignity, and for him the buffoonery argot, called "chaff," nur- 
 sery language of wrings, was hopelessly unintelligible. 
 
The Manuels. p 
 
 That admired horse, The Baron, ambled up to Raglan-terrace 
 very often nearly every day. Its rider and owner came yet 
 more often. The dust- men and dust- women of gossip, who 
 went about with baskets on their shoulders and a hook, picking 
 up old torn shreds and scraps and tossing them into their baskets, 
 met the party often on the roads and cliffs. It was given out, 
 officially as it were, that a marriage must follow ; and the 
 eagerness for original details as to the Manuels' history became 
 almost exquisite. Any damaging scraps of whisper about their 
 early days would be most precious now. 
 
 Captain Fermor, who spent a great deal of his day in a 
 curious listlessness, lounging along the roads, and sitting a good 
 deal on a low wall by the roadside in the sun, busy with some 
 of the new books he got down from town a polite Crusoe cast 
 adrift on this savage district strange to say, took a greater 
 interest in these ladies than he had acknowledged to his friend 
 Young Brett. Ke had got to be fond of his wall, and sat 
 there pretty much about the same hour each day. He had 
 come to know the sisters thoroughly, their walk even half 
 a mile away, their favourite bonnets, their clothes. He really 
 admired " that second girl," and the sleepy dreamy languor 
 of her eyes, and he half indulged himself in a speculation 
 how, with proper dressing and training, under good masters of 
 fashion, " that girl " might " do " up in Town. But he soon 
 checked himself, almost with a blush, for this heresy as if any- 
 thing good could come out of barren provincialism. 
 
 The two girls tripping past and they stepped together as 
 sisters do, with the harmony of well-trained ponies soon came 
 to know the fair officer who swung his limbs upon the wall, 
 quite as well as he knew them. At first they did not learn his 
 name, but this some way reached them in time. There are 
 plenty of such surface intimacies. As they walked past they 
 dropped their eyes with a modest precision, but there was a 
 forced composure about their faces that looked like consciousness. 
 Captain Fermor suspended his reading, and looked long after 
 them with tranquil approval. 
 
 By-and-by, as Mr. Hanbury walked by with them very often 
 this expression changed. Man does not relish man's familiarity 
 with any of the other sex. It seems a sort of preference 
 after rivalry j and though this view is really absurd, and based 
 upon a fiction, it operates very largely. So at first Captain 
 Fermor' s lip used to curl contemptuously, as who should say, 
 " A fellow like that ! " Then he grew oiore hostile, and as one 
 
to Never Forgotten. 
 
 day, Hanbury, full of smiles, was stooping well across the sisters, 
 - as he walked, in his eagerness in what he told, and as they 
 listened with smiles and an interest that showed clearly they had 
 taken no note of the captain upon his wall, the latter broke out 
 quite loudly with "A low boor of a fellow!" Though why 
 boor, and why low, there was no reason for pronouncing. Nay, 
 he took this prejudice actually away with him from his vall ; 
 and when some one was criticising (a little unfairly) the riding 
 of Mr. Hanbury, Captain Fermor joined in with a light growl/ 
 and repeated his censure that he was "a boor of a fellow ! " So, 
 as there are surface intimacies among people who are never to 
 know each others' minds, so are there these surface animosities 
 What irritated the captain specially was the unconscious way 
 in which the almost gentle blue eye of his enemy used to settle 
 on him if anything, with a kindly leaning towards him. This 
 the other resented the more, and felt his lip curling up with 
 contempt. 
 
 But the summit of unreasonable exasperation was reached, 
 when Mr. Hanbury was seen riding by with the two young 
 ladies. Captain Fermor almost raged against this outrage on 
 decorum. "In Town," he said, "or, indeed, in any civilised 
 place, it would be screamed at. Two girls going out with a man 
 like that; no lady with them. It was a pity," he added, with 
 compassion, "they had no friend to hint to them what was 
 proper. Any fellow, that at all approached a gentleman, would 
 not allow them to compromise themselves like that." And 
 when the marriage rumour reached him, his scorn and amaze- 
 ment could not be contained. 
 
 There were other characters on these little provincial boards, 
 invariably to be found on such occasions : types kept in stock, 
 who will drop in presently. Such were doctor and doctor's wife ; 
 clergyman and wife; local solicitor in large business, often flying 
 up to London ; and the landed gentry, whose nearest represen- 
 tative was Sir Charles Longman, of Longwood. These threads 
 of different colours crossed and recrossed each other, and became 
 plaited together into a sort of dull monotonous strand, which 
 was Life at Eastport. Life, in fact, oozed on here pleasantly for 
 some tranquilly at least for all. Periodically Sir Charles 
 Longman broke into a spasm of a dinner out at Longwood, and 
 had an artillery officer, and an infantry officer, with the parson 
 and the doctor, and a solemn and impressive ceremonial ensued ; 
 when Sir Charles Longman, tall and well creased in his skin, and 
 shining as though he had got into a suit of serpent's skin, 
 
.A Mess Dinner. 1 \ 
 
 peered at every one through a very glistening eye-glass, as 
 though he were afraid of mistaking them. Hi? voice came out 
 so aridly, it seemed to have newly arrived from the Desert, and 
 dried up all within the area of its influence like a hot wind. The 
 soldiers went home loudly execrating host and entertainment, 
 but Captain Fermor relished both with a smile of superiority, 
 and said it was refreshing to meet a gentleman and gentlemen 
 and breathe the air of a gentleman's house after all. 
 
 CHAPTER THE THIRD. 
 
 A MESS DINNER. 
 
 barracks, which were the vital organs of the place, and 
 the very centre of its nervous system, were austere and sour 
 looking. They were buildings constructed as if for the reforma- 
 tion of the hardened soldiery who resided in them. Like the 
 men themselves, they seemed to fall into line, to deploy into white 
 galleries, windows, doors, chill-looking iron-bedsteads, arches, 
 whitewashed passages, and numbered cell boxes. As there was 
 properly no flesh and blood in the place to be taken notice 
 of officially by the authorities, but merely letters and numbers, 
 so the same system was reasonably extended to the bedsteads, 
 passages, arches, and even dead walls. 
 
 The barracks were on a hill commanding the town, and 
 bad been fashioned irresolutely into a sort of fort, When the 
 sun was shining, little lengths of scarlet ribbon were seen to un- 
 wind themselves on the walls, like a cheerful edging to a dull 
 grey surtout, attended also by lively drumming, and the wind- 
 ing of trumpets. In this sort of clumsily disguised reformatory 
 the soldiers took their punishment, were drilled, snapped at witn 
 words of command, and, above all, " inspected." 
 
 Which serious operation was now just being performed. It 
 was a depot, and samples of several regiments were here herded 
 together for training and exercise. Major-General Shortall had 
 come down $ a gaunt, red-cheeked man, with what used to be 
 called the mutton-chop whisker, and who was determined to 
 do his all to save the Service from the destruction to which it 
 was hurrying by keeping his upper lip clean and bare. The 
 men had been scrubbed, pipeclayed, French-polished, burnished, 
 
ifc Never Forgotten. 
 
 holy-stoned even; had been reviled and sworn into perfect 
 cleanliness, before General Shortall was taken down the 
 ranks. 
 
 With a scowl of distrust, as though each private was busy 
 hiding some breakage or stain, and might,' after all, skilfully 
 evade detection of his crime, the general walked down by a row 
 of chests and faces, pried into buttons, twitched open cartouche- 
 boxes, and pulled at straps sourly, then walked up past a row of 
 backs, poked, probed, as if he were making a surgical examina- 
 tion, and finished off a line with an air of disappointment. 
 Colonels and captains walked with him in agitation. 
 
 In the evening, General Shortall was to dine with the mess ; 
 so, also, was Sir Charles Longman, the generic territorial person 
 of quality, and one or two gentlemen. The leading clergyman, 
 too, had been " thrown in," just as the mess cook had " thrown 
 in " a dash of wine to give a tone to the soup. It was a sort of 
 little festival. The general, in a grudging sort of fashion, had 
 allowed some commendation to be wrung from him, in which 
 the words "efficient" and "soldier-like" were distinguishable. 
 Thus there was a weight of care off the minds of the superior 
 officers. 
 
 Like two kings at a conference, Sir Charles Longman and 
 General Shortall met on the rug, as at a free town. Colonel 
 Benbow presented them to each other. The general said he 
 had known a Longman in " my old regiment" in Jamaica 5 
 and Sir Charles, promptly fixing his glass in position, and pain- 
 fully investigating the general all over, said doubtfully, " that 
 he er believed quite really most curious." They went 
 into dinner then, in a sort of clanking procession. 
 
 Such splendour as the depot could compass was put forward. 
 Two silver soldiers, back to back, in full marching order, with 
 knapsack and straps all complete, with the minutest buckle, 
 exquisitely modelled, had been presented by Colonel Bolstock, 
 C.B., to his regiment on leaving 5 and the two silver soldiers, 
 leaning on their firelocks, mounted guard at the head of the 
 table, under the general's eye. The study of the accoutrements, 
 as here reproduced, was an inexhaustible source of delight to 
 the officers. It never palled, and it was customary to refer to 
 it as a standard for other works of art. But the general had the 
 silver soldiers under inspection, and pronounced sharply that the 
 belt of "that fellow on the right" might have been tightened 
 by another " hole ; " which critical bon-mot soon trickled down 
 the whole table, and was greatly admired. For weeks an ani- 
 
A Mess Dinner. 13 
 
 mated discussion took place after dinner as to the propriety of 
 this tightening by "another hole;" and the most ingenious 
 tests were suggested to find out the truth. 
 
 As they were sitting down, Captain Fermor came in hurriedly, 
 and found there was but one little gap near the bottom of the 
 table, into which he dropped. One flank of the gap was red, 
 the other black; and just as he sat down, and waiter hands had 
 pushed in his chair from behind, he found that the black 
 civilian patch resolved itself into "that boor of a fellow," 
 Han bury ! 
 
 The mere contagion of the thing was not so much ; for once 
 he could have put up with this sort of society. But the awk- 
 wardness was here: "this fellow" was sure "to fasten" an 
 acquaintance on him, " what, positively," as he declared after- 
 wards, " he had been struggling with all his power to fence off," 
 but which he knew all the time he had a presentiment, in fact 
 would come about. 
 
 Honest John Hanbury's face actually lit up when he saw who 
 was his companion. He was delighted, for he was of the line 
 of Uncle Toby. 
 
 " Captain Fermor," he said, at once, and very heartily, "we 
 ought to know each other. It is so droll meeting and passing 
 each other in that sort of way, and knowing each other all the 
 time. It is absurd. You know me, and I know you. I am so 
 glad, in short. This is better than half a dozen introductions." 
 
 The captain's lip went up coldly. " Oh, I see. Indeed ! 
 You are very good to say so." 
 
 The other assumed that there was corresponding joy at this 
 pleasant dinner consanguinity. "Yes," he went on, " the very 
 thing I was wishing for, and all brought about so naturally 
 without trouble. Do you know, fifty times I have been on the 
 point of walking up to you and saying, ' Captain Fermor, let 
 me introduce myself.' I should have surprised you, I dare 
 say." 
 
 The captain's eyes first settled on Mr. Hanbury's drop chain, 
 then travelled up slowly to his face. " I must say you would," 
 he said; "excuse me for telling you so frankly; " and Captain 
 Fermor grew a shade less ill humoured as he thought how gen- 
 tlemanly sarcastic he could be at times. (This was where he 
 was so much above "our fellows," who put anything offensive 
 all in the rough and in brute shape.) 
 
 Though he had unconsciously stepped into a social ice-pail. 
 Haubury did not begin to feel the freezing as yet. " I declare 
 
14 Never Forgotten. 
 
 we are always talking of you. I should not betray secrets, but 
 we are. We know you perfectly, meeting you so constantly 
 on that wall, you know. Ha ! ha ! " 
 
 "Most flattering of you and your family to take such an 
 interest in me very." 
 
 " Family ! " said the other, laughing. " Come, that is good ! 
 Come now, as if you don't know who I mean !' 
 
 Anything like rallying came on Fermor like an east wind. 
 "I really don't understand," he said nervously. "I take iny 
 walks, and read and don't trouble myself with all I meet." 
 
 "That is a wonderful horse of yours, Mr. Hanbury," struck in 
 a young officer from the other side. " Great quarters ! So close 
 and brought together! " 
 
 Every one here broke in with delight on this topic. A con- 
 versational sluice had been lifted, and talk poured out. Horse 
 or horsemanship is the one touch of nature that makes all the 
 man world a kin. 
 
 "What would you take for him?" "Good action!" 
 " Showy ! " " How many hands high ? " " Off pastern !" 
 " In for the National?" 
 
 Hanbury, a good fellow, put his foot in the stirrup, mounted, 
 and rode his beast up and down the table for them 5 that is, he 
 told them all details with fulness and with delight. " Yes," he 
 said, " I have entered him. I really have. I shall ride him 
 myself." 
 
 " And win, by Jove ! " said Young Brett, enthusiastically. 
 
 "Well," said Hanbury, with an expression of pleased doubt, 
 " these things are so risky, and one never knows; but I hope to 
 do respectably. You have seen him ? " he said, turning to Cap- 
 tain Fermor. " Oh ! of course you have." 
 
 " Seen what, pray ? Oh, that horse of yours ? Well yes 
 I believe so. I see so many horses, you know " 
 
 " Of course he has," said Young Brett, with the same enthu- 
 siasm, " and, by Jove, don't he admire him ! He told me so 
 over and over again." 
 
 Fermor measured Young Brett as if for the rack. The look 
 made him penitent on the spot. " I suppose I see so many 
 horses j but I really have not thought of the matter at all." 
 
 " Oh, but you must see him see him regularly. He's worth 
 a study, I can tell you. Let me see to-morrow ! I tell you 
 what I'll ride him down here." 
 
 Forsyth, another horse devotee, and pious in the faith, said, 
 " Come at two, and have lunch." 
 
A Mess Dinner 15 
 
 " Ah, thank you/* said Hanbury, very earnest about his 
 
 charger, "I will. Though, by the way " and he started. "No, 
 
 I can't at two. I have," he said, with smiling confidence, as it 
 were, to Fermor, " to go out with the two girls, you know. 
 By-the-bye," he added, still in his cloak of simplicity, "that 
 reminds me. I declare you ought to know them." 
 
 " Indeed ! Ought I ?" said he, with an expression which was 
 meant to be that of " amused surprise. " " Well, granting that, 
 to whom do you allude, pray ? " 
 
 (" I can play on this fellow," he said to himself, with satis- 
 faction, "as upon a piano," which was scarcely a wise conviction, 
 for he could only "strum" upon the piano, and in human music 
 he was but an indifferent player.) 
 
 " Oh, the Manuels, to be sure," said the Piano, not seeing that 
 it was being played on. "As I said, it is so odd, almost so droll, 
 meeting in that funny way. We have discussed you very often, 
 I can tell you." 
 
 Something like "too much honour," or some such speech of 
 ironical humility, was on the captain's lips; but, in spite of him 
 self, he felt complacent. So he listened to hear more. 
 
 "Miss^Manuel is very curious about you. She says she is 
 
 sure, from your face " 
 
 An expression of interest spread over Fermor's face. But 
 there was aThersites in the regiment, just opposite, rough, loud- 
 speaking, rude, and horribly truthful, a graduated professor of 
 "chaff," and he was listening. Fermor justly considered him a 
 "low" fellow, but shrank from him as from a social chimney- 
 sweep. 
 
 "5Ae says! just look at Fermor!*' he said " ( He thinks 
 every young lady in love with him. He turns back on the roads 
 if he meets one, for fear of disturbing her peace of mind.' 
 Ha! ha!" 
 
 And a chorus of " Ha ! ha's ! " from the instrumentalists about, 
 who relished this coarse music of Thersites, now broke out. 
 
 Fermor turned red. He made it a rule, he always said, to 
 take no notice of these "low" jokes. But John Hanbury, being 
 a simple good-humoured creature that knew how to laugh, did 
 laugh now very loud. It seemed to him such a comical accident 
 that Thersites should have actually stumbled on the true state of 
 things. 
 
 " Why, as to walking along the roads, I can tell you some- 
 thing," he said, looking slyly at Fermor. " You know there's 
 no hiding of one's face exactly " 
 
16 Nev& Forgotten. 
 
 <: Oh indeed I 5 ' saidThersites. " Was there ever anything like 
 this? What did I say? Now we shall hear something." And 
 the crowd rubbed its hands, and even struck its thighs with 
 delight. 
 
 John Hanbury was one of those who innocently overlook what 
 is strict propriety, in the satisfaction of giving pleasure to others. 
 "I don't think it is quite fair," he said, looking from side to 
 side ; but since " 
 
 Fermor was blazing and glowing. " I must request," he said, 
 in a low hasty voice to his neighbour, "there will be no more of 
 .his. Do you hear me? I don't like it." 
 
 But Hanbury had been trained in wild places of India, where 
 a joke, being a scarce thing, and, once trapped, is not enlarged 
 without a sort of hunt. So he nodded his head pleasantly to the 
 right and to the left, as if he had a secret, and said, " He doesn't 
 like it, you see. It wouldn't be fair, you know." 
 
 Again the orchestra broke in, fortissimo, " Come, come ! 
 Nonsense! Out with it." 
 
 Major-General Shortall and Sir Charles Longman, who had 
 long since strayed away and got lost in the bogs and marshes of 
 conversation, where every step cost them infinite pain, heard the 
 roar, and accepted it as though it were a walking-stick which 
 some one held to help them out. 
 
 " Cheerful," said the general. " What is it ? " 
 
 " Rather some joke, 1 think," said Sir Charles, doubtfully, 
 and glueing on his eye-glass to try and get a good view of it. 
 
 " Oh, sir," said Captain Thersites, " only a good thing about 
 Fermor. Tell it out all out, Mr. Hanbury, the general wants 
 to hear it." 
 
 Hanbury, still relishing the thing with delight, though, indeed, 
 there was neither joke nor story in the whole, was about to 
 begin, when he chanced to look at his neighbour, and saw his 
 pained look and his curled lip. Fermor said, " If you will be so free 
 with my name, at least I trust you will respect that of ladies " 
 
 "Ah! don't mind him," roared the orchestra, suspecting what 
 was going on. But this was a new view for Hanbury, who 
 coloured in his turn. It was conveyed in an unpleasant, even an 
 offensive manner, but the caution was just. His rough, coarse 
 provincialism was stupidly making free with the sacred names of 
 ladies he respected and admired. His face changed in a second. 
 
 "Let me suggest," said Fermor, seeing the effect, "a mess 
 table is scarcely the place you understand ; but of course it is 
 no concern of mine." 
 
A Mess Dinner. 17 
 
 Nothing now could be got out of Hanbury. Disappointed, 
 the crowd, led by Thersites, followed at tne heels of Fermor. 
 Once in six months or so they had their revenge in this shape 
 for many supercilious outrages. Even the general was seen to 
 smile in his dry way. Fermor glowed and grew white, and 
 glowed again. He never forgave his neighbour. 
 
 The latter, quite sobered, whispered him earnestly, " Thank 
 you a thousand times ! I was so near doing it, and you saved 
 me. I should never have forgiven myself." That depended 
 very much on his own turn of mind j but he might be sure of 
 this, that Captain Fermor would never forgive him that public 
 mortification. But there was worse in store for Fermor. 
 
 "They have such odd words now," said General Shortall, 
 talking of India of course military India. " Ton my soul, I 
 can't make 'em out. I don't know what they will bring the 
 Service to. They talk in the Times about wallahs and fellahs, 
 and such stuff. Now, we always called them blacks simply, and 
 niggers and as good words as any, I say." 
 
 Captain Fermor, superior always, was literary and well read, 
 getting down green cases from Mr. Mudie. Part of his ritual 
 was setting " fellows " right on matters of information. So now, 
 brooding and brooding over his injuries, he saw aid at hand, and 
 listened. 
 
 " Wallah ! What er is a wallah ? " said Sir Charles. 
 
 "And I see they have fellows they call ryots," said the 
 general. " Not but that they have plenty of 'em out there 
 disturbances enough." Which remark brought forth obsequious 
 hilarity. When this had died away, Captain Fermor saw the 
 opportunity for putting out Mr. Mudie's information to interest 
 
 "They call a wallah, sir," he said, with quiet respect, "one 
 of those unhappy creatures who are obliged to work at forced 
 labour at the Suez Canal, for instance." 
 
 "Ah, quite so," said Sir Charles, interested, making his glass 
 adhere. " Most interesting." 
 
 " And a ryot," continued Fermor, half turning to him as an 
 appreciative listener, " is, I believe, a a man who works in the 
 fields for a few pots of rice one of the oppressed castes of 
 India." 
 
 The colonel was looking round as if this explanation reflected 
 great credit on the depot, and the general seemed a little im- 
 pressed, when John Hanbury, who had been listening with 
 wonder and almost stupefaction, broke out with honest expostu- 
 lation, " No, no, no ! Come now. God bless us ! what are 
 
1$ Never Forgotten. 
 
 you talking of? That is the funniest jumble I beg your pardoff 
 for saying so but you're all astray. A ryot working for a poj 
 of rice ! I wish you or I were a ryot, good Lord ! But Fermot 
 is joking I know he is." 
 
 Fermor's lip trembled a little. This was the fruit of being 
 ever so little familiar with your low and free people! 
 
 "Why 'fellahs/" continued Hanbury, laughing heartily, 
 "are the Suez people. I wish a wallah heard you speak of him 
 in that way, or a ryot either." 
 
 "There'd be a ryot, I suppose," said General Shortall, en- 
 couraged to repeat his joke. 
 
 " By Jove, yes ! Why, they are farmers, cultivators, mer- 
 chants. It's so funny how you contrived to jumble them." 
 
 " It may be funny,'' said Fermor, with an effort at calmness, 
 " but with all respect to you, I think I'm right." 
 
 " Nonsense, you're not serious." 
 
 " Have you read, might I ask, Jenkinson's or Thurlowe's 
 travels?" said Fermor, with chilly politeness. 
 
 " Not a line of 'em," said the other, laughing} " but if they 
 say that, they're not worth reading." 
 
 "The world thinks differently," said Fermor, looking round 
 with calm triumph. " Jenkinson is a standard look. I have the 
 second edition up-stairs j got it down from London from 
 Mudie's. He travelled five years in India." 
 
 " If it comes to that," said Hanbury, with a good-humoured 
 smile, "I was there five-and-twenty, but I don't go much upon 
 that." 
 
 Ha, ha ! " said Thersites, " not bad that !" 
 
 The statement produced a weighty impression. " That settles 
 it," added Thersites. 
 
 " By Jove ! " said little Brett, suddenly, " how lucky ! I have 
 a little Hindustanee dictionary somewhere ! " 
 
 There was a cry of " Fetch it ! fetch it !" 
 
 It was fetched, but it confirmed Hanbury. Hanbury became 
 the Moonshee or Pundit of the night, an office Fermor had 
 always claimed. He suffered acutely. He saw the general 
 whisper grimly to the chief with an inquiring smile, and he had 
 a faithful instinct that this was about him. 
 
 Presently that potentate rose and went his way. The dining 
 crowd dispersed. They brought away with them the honest 
 John Hanbury into a snug private room, where they lounged 
 and stretched themselves after the rigours of the night, and 
 clouded the air with fumes of tobacco and spirits. These were 
 
An Introduction. 19 
 
 happy moments. The fighting men were boys again. They 
 were attached by the genial simplicity of Hanbury, and the link 
 was the horse. That noble brute was led out and admired over 
 and over again. They became eloquent, witty, even wise, in 
 that curious tongue. These simple natives interchanged the 
 blank counters and cowries they had for ideas with a marvellous 
 fluency. They talked of the " National," now close at hand, 
 of the course, of the great horse Baron, of the great Irish horse 
 that was coming, of the gentlemen riders, of the odds ; then 
 of the "Welter Stakes," and of a grievance against the "handi- 
 capper." And Hanbury, who in some other societies might 
 have been insignificant and overlooked, riding in here on his 
 horse, was immensely respected and hearkened to. 
 
 Fermor did not hear the last of that night's defeat for many 
 days. In the barrack life there is a barrenness of incident, and 
 this was welcome, He was sensitive to " low chaff," and 
 though he habitually awed them as being inferior in intellect, it 
 made him shudder one day to hear a low " ungentlemanly " 
 nickname associated with his own. "The Wallah " was actually 
 profanely joined with his sacred being, and one morning he 
 heard "fellows" below, in the court, under his window, asking 
 familiarly if "The Wallah " was in his room. 
 
 CHAPTER THE FOURTH, 
 
 AN INTRODUCTION. 
 
 A FTER this Hanbury came down pretty often to the bar- 
 " racks, and was esteemed "a right good fellow." He 
 brought his horse, he brought his guns objects of absorbing 
 interest to many beholders. They soon learnt how the gossips 
 had given out the banns of marriage between him and one of 
 the Manuels -, and Young Brett, in his off-hand way, asked him 
 about it openly. 
 
 "Well," said Mr. Hanbury, with an honest smile, "I am not 
 at liberty to say much, you know, but I hope it is not very far 
 off. Only I am afraid I am not born to be so lucky a fellow." 
 
 Then they all spoke in praise of their looks 5 they were " fine 
 girls," but the youths lamented their exclusiveness, and the 
 cruel way they kept themselves "so close." To whom Han- 
 
2o Never Forgotten. 
 
 bury, in his simplicity, assuring the soldiers that this was all 
 misconception, and that foreign manners and foreign ways wens 
 at the bottom of it, said that, for his part, he fancied they would 
 be rather glad to know people. 
 
 On which encouragement they burst into genuine raptures. 
 " Fine creatures!" "Such eyes!" And in their military 
 argot gave high praise. "A stunner, by Jove !" "Clippers!" 
 and with such rude admiration. One gentleman, after a long 
 rumination, gathering up strength, as it were, added the epithet, 
 " Spankers, by Jove ! " 
 
 But Fermor's mortification and, indeed, it did not seem 
 worth while looking back to rankled in his mind, and, with a 
 curious weakness, he thought that if he could only get a fair 
 opportunity of publicly "putting down" his enemy, his peace 
 of mind would return. That none but gentlemen should be 
 admitted into the army 5 that it soon would be "no place " for 
 a man of refined feelings and good birth, was the substance of a 
 meditation which passed through Captain Fermor's mind as he 
 went out one evening, to lounge scarcely to walk. It was 
 summer, and it was 6ne, and though the roads were more green 
 lanes than roads, especially where a hedge opened out in a sort 
 of hawthorn window, and showed the sea far away glistening 
 tranquilly, still never was the provincialism of the place so rank 
 in his nostrils. He came past his favourite seat on the wall 
 forsworn now for some ten days sat down on it, and fumed 
 away afresh at the place and all its works. After half an hour 
 or so, he heard voices, and three figures came past him very 
 gaily, a gentleman and two ladies. "Natives!" he assumed 
 them to be, not worth a thought beyond a pettish protest thai 
 even in these backwoods, whose merit, at least, should be 
 privacy, it was hard (but quite in character) that a private 
 gentleman could not get a moment to himself without intrusion. 
 
 These were, however, the two ladies of Raglan-terrace and 
 Mr. Hanbury. The face of the elder and taller seemed to flash 
 on his like the strong light of the sun, which had set but ten 
 minutes : that of the younger, so soft, so rich in colour, with 
 strange, full eyes, to absorb and draw him as he looked. It 
 softened him as he looked. For the moment he forgot his 
 jrim Fakir creed of indifference. Besides the two faces, the 
 tiird, genial and good as it was, seemed as of a low clown. The 
 
 low clown " called, " How d'ye do?" to him very healthily. 
 
 The three drifted by. Fermor thought how, after all, they 
 fjust be " low," coarse people at least, when they could take up 
 
An Introduction. 21 
 
 with such But here was the low clown but a few yards 
 
 away, turning back irresolutely, and coming to him. Fermor's 
 lip curled witn hostility. Now was the time. 
 
 "I say," said Hanbury, "I must introduce you. It is really 
 too absurd, this sort of thing. Come with me now ! " And 
 he took his arm in his. 
 
 To him, in a sort of haughty alarm and terror, Fermor replied, 
 
 "Excuse me really 1 request " 
 
 " Stuff!" said the other, looking back. " Don't you see ? I 
 have told them. It will appear so rude. You couldn't, I am 
 
 sure " 
 
 Fermor dropped from his wall, half impatient, half pleased 
 impatient of the gaucherie which this awkward fashion of intro- 
 duction must bring about, pleased at this one more instance of 
 unive^-sal homage. 
 
 "This is Captain Fermor/' said Hanbury, taking him by the 
 arm like a gendarme, " our friend that we have known so long, 
 and yet haven't known. Ha, ha ! Isn't it good ?" 
 
 Fermor gave his calmest, saddest, Town bow, from long train- 
 ing exquisitely graduated to the suitable inflection of homage. 
 Rustics might strive in vain after such manners. They walked 
 on together. The elder girl spoke in a voice .firm and musical. 
 The younger girl shrank away shyly. 
 
 "Mr. Hanbury is right," the elder said, "somehow we do 
 know you, and have talked of you very often." 
 
 Ferrnor smiled. He took out his humility mask (for he 
 carried all his "properties" in his pocket), and said, 
 
 "Time sadly misspent, I fear! What useful moments 
 abused !" 
 
 (A good stroke, that would have filled the social pit and 
 boxes on a crowded Town stair with wonder and delight.) 
 
 "Ah!" answered the elder girl, simply, "but we have so 
 little to talk of here." 
 
 This was the result of the effect on her, and the captain 
 looked at her suspiciously. But on the younger it had clearly 
 produced the right Town effect, for she was looking up with a 
 compounded feeling of half awe and half surprise and, under 
 the awe and surprise he could see admiration. 
 
 There is always a process of election. Even on meeting 
 people but for ten minutes, there must be preference of some 
 kind, even the most superficial. So Captain Fermor chose the 
 younger girl on the spot, as being softer, and, above all, more 
 
22 Never Forgotten* 
 
 They walked together for half an hour, four in a line. Captain 
 Fermor was the officiating minister of that little congregation. He 
 preached the sermon they listened devoutly. There were a 
 few topics at which they had been looking through mere pasto- 
 ral or rather say provincial glasses, and for which he now 
 lent them his more worldly lorgnette. In a gentlemanly way 
 he lifted his eyes and sneered mildly, yet not ill-naturedly, at 
 what was about them. He worked the TO eyw plentifully. He 
 put his personality through all moods and tenses for them. Yet 
 presently he began to see that his little arrows were shooting 
 past the elder girl. He said, " They persecute me to know 
 this person and that. I declare, if you were to know all I suffer, 
 
 and the tortures I have to endure But T don't want it. In 
 
 Town, of course, there 1 lay myself out for it there I get 
 interest for my money. In fact, I am a different being alto- 
 gether. But here I have been obliged to make a sort of rule.- 
 If you don't draw the line somewhere, you know " When; 
 he had got so far, he found the eldest Miss Manuel was saying: 
 something in a low voice to John Hanbury, 
 "An ill-bred person." 
 
 But there was a reverence in the large eyes of the softer girl 
 which indemnified him. He remarked, too, with a sort of 
 pleasure, how beside him on this occasion " that boor," as he 
 christened him, seemed to sink down into a lower Yahoo sort of 
 grade. He artfully kept the talk upon the higher social table- 
 lands, where Hanbury could scarcely breathe, and he really con- 
 trived to be amusing because half biographical on the topic 
 of Town parties and dinners, and some notable men whom he 
 had met. Hanbury the honest, the admired, was almost reduced 
 to silence. Fermor, too, had not forgotten the "outrage," as 
 he considered it, on " that boor's " part, and several times when 
 Mr. Hanbury struck in with some rough and hearty, and, per- 
 haps, too universal a choir of praise, he quietly, and with the 
 half superiority of pity, set him right. 
 
 The elder Miss Manuel did not seem to take so much interest 
 In this exhibition. She presently broke in on the personal cur- 
 rent of Captain Fermor's life as he was giving them a sort of 
 psychological analysis : " No one quite understands my mind," 
 he said, with his agreeable smile, as if speaking of another person 
 altogether. " Some think me proud, some say I am so indiffe- 
 rent -j but neither of these classes know me really. It would 
 take years of study to know me properly one side of my cha- 
 racter, even arid even then," &c. And it was just at this point,. 
 
An Introduction. 3 
 
 not, however, rudely, that Miss Manuel struck in eagerly: 
 " Well, about the Baron do tell us. I am dying to hear." 
 
 This was an opening for John Hanbury to ride in on his 
 great horse, which he did with a genuine ardour and enthusiasm. 
 It was like the fresh air of daybreak after the candles and hot 
 close vapours of a ball-room. 
 
 " To be sure," he said. " I know you will be all interested to 
 hear of the Baron. He is gone for a little training out every 
 day on the downs. Had a letter to-night about him. Sure to 
 carry all before him. There won't be such a horse in." 
 
 The two sisters looked eager : even the softer faced, who had 
 stayed a few seconds behind with Fermor's pyschology, was now 
 busy with the Baron. " Nice, darling creature ! " she said, with 
 a sort of dreamy rumination $ " and his dear, noble neck ! " 
 
 " Good old fellow ! " said John, taking a different view of 
 him. "And he shall have the honour of carrying you the day 
 before to give him spirit.' ' 
 
 " Oh, how kind ! " said she, the round eyes swimming in plea* 
 sure. " How I shall enjoy it ! We must go and see him win- 
 ning ! Oh, Pauline ! we must ' Surely mamma would not mind 
 just for once." 
 
 Thus was Captain Fermor and the analysis of his mind, left 
 leagues behind. He had misgivings that, after all, these might 
 prove " low" people too. But the true annoyance was the in- 
 curable lowness of " that boor." He must make an example of 
 him. But the horse, now introduced, was hard to struggle 
 gainst. Even the soft, the round-eyed devotee was drawn 
 away. He said to her, in a low confidential voice, "You have 
 been in Town, I am sure you have " 
 
 But with an absent smile she answered him, "Oh yes ! that is, 
 not for ages." Then to Hanbury, suddenly, " And when will he 
 arrive, the noble, gentle thing? I am longing to see him again." 
 
 " On Monday," said Hanbury, with the same eagerness. " I 
 saw him yesterday, his coat shining like a looking-glass and 
 such a stride. When I took him over a stiff fence, he cleared it 
 like a furrow. Oh, he will do," said John Hanbury, rubbing his 
 hands with delight. 
 
 The two girls' faces were turned to him with wonderful 
 eagerness, that of the elder girl with a sort of pride in Hanbury 
 himself, the younger with an interest that seemed to travel 
 away to where the noble brute was in his paddock. For the 
 moment no one in the company was taking thought of the 
 r-fiMtMl F'.'rrmr. He smarted under it 
 
2^ Never Forgotten. 
 
 "This horse/' he said, with bitterness, "seems to be about 
 the most distinguished person of his time. Every one appears 
 to be absorbed, to live, move, and have his or her being in 
 him." And he gave a sort of smile athwart the two ladies. But 
 John answered him with simplicity, quite pleased that he too 
 was interested in the matter. 
 
 "I am," he said, " absurdly so. To tell you the truth, there 
 are one or two nights that I have not slept for thinking of him. 
 In fact, I have been foolish enough to put a good deal of money 
 on him. You'll think me very absurd ? " 
 
 Captain Fermor answered with exquisite satire, "Well, if you 
 have so strong an opinion, I must not contradict you ! " and he 
 looked for the applause which the stroke must extort. The 
 bright flashing face was cold and impassive, and turned towards 
 him with steadiness ; that of the younger was waiting shyly, 
 with a half smile of curiosity, to hear more. Here was a good 
 opening for a handsome exit off the stage. He made his bow. 
 " Most sorry," he said ; " must really go now. Have to be home. 
 So glad to have had the pleasure," &c. 
 
 John Hanbury wrung his hand awfully. "Don't you like 
 them?" he whispered, as he walked away a few steps with 
 him. " You saw how interested she was about the horse. The 
 fact is, I have set my heart on winning this race. And with the 
 race, old boy" he added, with a hearty and dreadful familiarity 
 that made Fermor' s blood curdle, " I shall win something else ! 
 I must tell you / think it is all right you understand the 
 younger one. A sweet, sweet angel 5 my big, stupid heart is 
 yearning for her. Don't tell any fellow, though. Good- 
 bye." 
 
 Now as Captain Fermor lifted his hat to the two ladies, the 
 idea before his mind had been that he had happily lowered 
 their respect by a sort of contrast. " How they can put up with 
 that boor's insufferable coarseness ! It jars on me at every turn. 
 And how she can : If she was dressed properly, and trained 
 under good hands, she might do in Town." And Captain 
 Fermor thought of the soft liquid eyes, and that pleased expres- 
 sion of curiosity as he talked. " All to be thrown away on that 
 low boor. 7 ' 
 
 That low boor arid the two ladies walked home together ; but 
 they were a little silent. " By the way, how do you like Fer- 
 mor ? " he said. 
 
 " He is very well," said the elder 5 "quite the common run 
 of fine gentleman/' 
 
A Visit. 25 
 
 "But he seems to know the world so well," said the younger 
 girl, timidly. 
 
 The other laughed. "How well you know the world, to tell 
 us that, Violet ! / should never ask to see him, and if Mr. Han- 
 bury is wise, he will never inflict him on us again." 
 
 Mr. Hanbury looked mystified. " God bless me ! why so ? " 
 he said ; " would not that be rude ? " 
 
 "Because we know him/ 7 she said, impatiently. "And there 
 is nothing more to know of him $ he is conceit all over, and of 
 the most foolish sort." 
 
 " He is a little fine," said John, reflectively. 
 
 "If you take my advice," said Miss Manuel, meaningly, 
 " for your sake as well as for ours, you will spare us his com- 
 pany." 
 
 " But won't he amuse us, Pauline ? " said the younger sister, 
 doubtfully. They were at their own door, and she went in first. 
 The elder girl stayed behind a little with Mr. Hanbury. It was 
 nearly dark. The stars were out, and down at the little port 
 far away below the lighthouse newly lit was twinkling. 
 
 " Why did you do this?" she said to him. "He is a cold, 
 heartless London creature. It makes me uncomfortable to be 
 in his society. He says he wants amusement here, and who can 
 tell how he may find amusement ? You know you have called 
 me the wise woman before now, and I tell you I can read 
 character, and he don't like 'you. So my dear honest John Han- 
 bury, we will just leave him where he is." 
 
 John Hanbury went his way home that night thinking very 
 deeply. He respected and admired Miss Manuel, so her words 
 impressed him. " She sees things where I don't," he thought. 
 
 CHAPTER THE FIFTH. 
 
 A VISIT* 
 
 A WEEK after, Fermor and he met again, not very far from 
 Raglan Villa. Hanbury was going away for a day, but was 
 to be back again in the morning. " Were you going up to see 
 the Manuels?" asked John Hanbury, bluntly. 
 
 " How abrupt you are!" said the other, smiling ; "you quite 
 
 affect the nerves. It would be a little too early, would it not? " 
 
 "I have just been there," said the other) "but am going 
 
a 6 Never Forgotten* 
 
 away now, to see about the horse, but shall be home td* 
 morrow." 
 
 The first thought of Captain Fermor was, " What on earth 
 does this fellow tell me his plans for? As if /cared whether he 
 goes or returns to-morrow. The second was, that possibly there 
 might be now a fair and open arena, happily secured from 
 interruption this boor thrusting his stupid presence so per- 
 severingly on these ladies. The little "warm" face had been 
 before him a good deal in the dull barrack room. He put on 
 some elegant decoration, and, about five o'clock, sauntered up 
 to Raglan-terrace. 
 
 He went in. There were in the drawing-room Mrs. Manuel, 
 who "had been handsome," but was now "worn," and the 
 younger daughter. It was the entry of a disguised prince into 
 the villager's cabin. It was exactly the little stage he delighted 
 in, and the audience he would have chosen. Mrs. Manuel was 
 a woman of silent and depressed manners, a little shy, perhaps, 
 from suffering of some sort. For him it was like a little circus 
 in which his personality might go round and round. He thought 
 to himself how as a mere exercise for his faculties, now long 
 rusted by disuse he would show them the difference between 
 true and trained refinement, and that dull common stuff they 
 had had to bear with of late. He really exerted himself, sitting 
 on a low chair, and from that, as from a little pulpit, gave out 
 his monologue. He was entertaining. He aired all his pro- 
 perties. He took his mind, as it were, into his hand, and showed 
 it round. "This is where I differ from other men. The 
 common fellows that we meet in the drawing-rooms, they can 
 speak, but can't talk. Now 1 can talk, but I can't speak. I wish 
 I could. I envy those creatures upon my word I do. I suppose 
 if I laid my mind to it I could. If I chose to talk upon, say 
 horses, I suppose I could ring the changes on horses as well as 
 another -pasterns, curbs, and the rest of the jargon. But I 
 don't want to. I ride a horse out in the open air, not in the 
 house, you see ! " 
 
 Two smiles on two faces one, though, a little doubtful 
 welcomed this sally. Just then entered, as she always did, with 
 a flash, the taller Miss Manuel. She looked at him with a sort 
 of hostile inquiry. 
 
 It made one more for the audience, and Fermor, turning 
 himself in his pulpit, went on : "Now there's your friend Mr. 
 Hanbury. We know him so well, no better person breathing, 
 but he has his lin~i j and what I like him for, he feels it, and 
 
A Visit. 27 
 
 don't try and travel out of it. Then he talks as we have heard 
 him, about that horse of his, over and over again. It is very 
 pleasant to hear it, because, you see, it is nature. Now you see, 
 /can't manage that sort of thing. I suppose I know a horse as 
 well, at least, as most men, and, perhaps, can ride one a great 
 deal better than many ; but then I can't put it in so dramatic a 
 way I can't indeed!" and Captain Fermor smiled pleasantly. 
 He felt he was getting more fluent every moment. The soft 
 devotional eyes were fixed on him. 
 
 Miss Manuel struck in. "I hope he will long keep that 
 dramatic power, as you call it. I hope he will never exchange 
 it for the false affectations of fashion. 1 don't see much good 
 brought by them. I hope not never!'* She spoke this a little 
 excitedly. 
 
 Captain Fermor shrugged his shoulders, and smiled at Violet. 
 " You know your friend better than / do. I don't pretend to 
 say how he will turn out. I can't lay my mind to that sort of 
 study. I have no time I wish I had." 
 
 Violet gave a little low laugh. She could not help it. It 
 was a titter of approbation. 
 
 " His is a fine open manly character," said her sister, her face 
 beginning to flush, " that would be worthy of all study. If he 
 does talk of one subject, if he is proud of his horses, it is a manly 
 English taste, and the taste of English gentlemen. Some of 
 the best English lords are on the turf, are they not ? the most 
 intellectual, and most cultivated. I can tell you it requires some 
 courage to ride a steeple-chase.*' 
 
 She was walking up and down in this excited manner, work- 
 ing up gradually to something like anger. Her sister seemed to 
 feel this, for she made a low protest: "Oh, Pauline 1" The 
 other stopped suddenly, and said,- 
 
 " Captain Fermor, pray are you going to ride in this race ?" 
 
 He was smiling and twisting his hat between his knees, like 
 a globe, two lavender fingers being the pivots. " Why, I believe 
 not," he said. " Not but that I should like it. Some of our 
 people will ride, which I am very glad of. It will give the rus- 
 tics here a lesson. None of them know how, positively not one." 
 
 ''But Captain Fermor, it seems, is not to give the lesson." 
 
 He coloured a little. "It doesn't follow " 
 
 "We," she went on, "have all been brought up to admire 
 these manly sports, even when there is risk and danger 5 we 
 respect them, and we all hope our champion shall win. Don't 
 you, Violet?" 
 
28 Never Forgotten. 
 
 While they were expecting the answer from Violet, the 
 door opened, and John Hanbury stamped in. He stopped as 
 he saw Captain Fermor. "Why," said he, "I thought you 
 were '* 
 
 The other waited coldly for him to finish. " Yes ? " he said. 
 
 " I say, I did not think you were coming up here." 
 
 " You have just arrived in time," said Miss Manuel. " Cap- 
 tain Fermor has been turning into ridicule some dangers he has 
 reasons for not encountering himself our English horses, and 
 our races, and race-course, and the rustics, as he calls them, who 
 are to ride, but don't know how." 
 
 John Hanbury, who had been reflective, and even moody, 
 since he entered, now coloured a little. 
 
 " We shall have some of your friends in, shall we not ? Well, 
 the rustics shall try and show them what they can do." 
 
 " Oh, as for that, my good friend, you must recollect when a 
 man has been a whole course of Goodwood, and the Derby, 
 and Ascot, and a hundred such things, these local affairs must 
 seem a little poor. Every allowance must be made." 
 
 " Why not try it ?" said honest John Hanbury, with something 
 really like a sneer. "Well, never mind. Wait for the day." 
 
 "Yes, wait for the day," said Miss Manuel. " Our horse shall 
 win, and our champion. We have 'backed ' him is not that 
 the word? heavily." 
 
 The younger girl caught some of this enthusiasm. " Oh, yes ! 
 we must win." 
 
 "I shall win," said John Hanbury, looking at her with a sort 
 of sulky pride, " or or break my neck in a ditch. I shall 
 deserve it." 
 
 " Don't speak in that way," said the two together. " Now 
 do tell us about the Baron ; " and both drew over with him 
 towards the window, quite absorbed in him and the subject, and 
 forgetful of other persons. 
 
 Captain Fermor, still twisting his hat on the little low chair, 
 looked after them. " Second class people, after all," he said 
 bitterly to himself. " Just, indeed, what I might have expected. 
 This is what invariably comes from stepping down out of one's 
 position." And rising, he prepared to take a formal leave. 
 "I am sorry," he said, with cairn sarcasm (afterwards it was 
 balm to him to think with what Roman dignity he had departed), 
 "I am sorry to interrupt, even for a moment, your discussion of 
 this interesting subject," and, with his voice, he, as it were, put 
 in italics the word interesting. But on the younger girl's face 
 
A Visit. 29 
 
 there was a sort of gentle appeal, or beseeching protest, which 
 he thought of afterwards. But he must give her a lesson. He 
 went out sternly. 
 
 He was one of the most sensitive creatures in the world 
 laughably so, and he went away chafing. He would give any- 
 thing, he thought, for a horse in this race, just to show them 
 how calmly, and even elegantly, a true gentleman could ride 
 in to victory, in the face of all dangers. He liked to map out 
 for himself little schemes of polite vengeance, and make for 
 himself gorgeous pictures of triumph j he victorious, boors 
 beaten, shouts of joy. Then, this would be the retribution : 
 when all were pressing forward to salute him, to cover that 
 family with confusion by a calm overlooking without pique, of 
 course, which would be the way with vulgar, untrained people. 
 
 In that little assembly it was natural that the first topic should 
 have been Fermor. 
 
 " There ! I feel warmth again," said Miss Manuel, walking 
 backwards and forwards. "I am glad he is gone. There is 
 something so false and heartless about his manner!" 
 
 John Hanbury was silent for a moment. " I don't know, I 
 suppose he has trained himself into that stiffness. / don't under- 
 stand him.'' 
 
 "It is quite thrown away on us," said Miss Manuel. "We 
 are simple creatures. All his attitudes and cold refinements are 
 quite wasted here." 
 
 "What did he mean," said John Hanbury, "'by his holy 
 horror of our poor horses ? I suspect our steeple-chase would 
 be too rough and coarse a style of amusement for him." 
 
 But the younger girl, quite silent, made no criticism on the 
 absent "fine" Captain Fermor. He soon passed out of theii 
 talk. 
 
 They knew very little of "fine" Captain Fermor, when 
 they set him down as shy about horses. He was cramped 'in 
 means, an^could not support the charge of hunting horses. He 
 thought it over with many a curl of the lip. The prospects of 
 overwhelming foes, friends, "boors" and all, by a dashing 
 victory, was very pleasing to feed on. But he presently dismissed 
 it. "Ah! she," said he to himself, '. "saw the true metal!" 
 And again he thought what an effect those large swimming, 
 absorbing-like, two deep lustrous little eyes would produce on 
 the proper stage a London stage if she were suitably drilled, 
 as it were, and refitted, and brought out to see under the care 
 of, say Lady Mantower. " To be thrown away on that boor 1" 
 
3O Never Forgotten. 
 
 CHAPTER THE SIXTH, 
 
 THE SISTERS. 
 
 THE house in Raglan-terrace, where the Manuels lived, though 
 small, was as fresh as a rose ; and though it could not display a 
 plaster eagle, or an ice-pail of the same material as some of 
 its companions did it seemed to be the least flaunting of the 
 whole row. There was a little garden in front a IK* another 
 behind ; and the grass and the walks did not suggest the idea of 
 tufts of green cotton and dry sand glued on to a deal board, as 
 the other pleasure-grounds did. 
 
 Their little drawing-rooms were fitted out with all the gaudy 
 decorations and bits of clean showy finery usually constructed 
 for houses made " to let." The ceiling and paper were as white 
 as ceiling or paper could be got for the money. The gilding of 
 the moulding and looking-glasses were of a rich and strong 
 yellow, and the radiating fire-place, having holiday during the 
 summer, flashed back a distorted picture of the room, like the 
 glass over its head. So with the knobs of the walnut chairs 
 and the walnut headlands that projected from under the table- 
 cloths, and the prominent portions of the rockery in the middle 
 of the room (which was in reality an ottoman), all of which 
 shone with little splashes of light, and were only now getting 
 over their primeval stickiness. 
 
 The effect of this air of stiff luxury the Manuel family had 
 unconsciously neutralised by the dispersion here and there of 
 many tasteful articles of their own. They broke up the stern 
 regimental ranks in which the furniture had been drawn up, and 
 brought about a graceful orderly " no-order." In a very short 
 time the contract magnificence was happily overlaid and tem- 
 pered, and the gloss rubbed away to the dimness of genteeler 
 life. 
 
 A large lodger family next door, eight or nine strong in chil- 
 dren (with a father in a white waistcoat with hands under his 
 coat-tails, seen with an air of pride upon his door-steps during 
 the evenings), looking from their plate-glass windows, began to 
 know and take interest in the Manuel family : in the mother, 
 whom they saw at times wandering listlessly in the garden ; and 
 in the two sisters, who went forth and came in from their walk- 
 ing. The nurses and heads of various sizes which were always 
 permanently in the window, as if a procession were expected to 
 go by every moment, made no account of the small-featured timid 
 
The Sistars. 31 
 
 mother - } nor did the cold-eyed, rough-mannered son, who went 
 in and out making the gate clatter behind him, excite their 
 interest. But as the two sisters appeared, infantine cries were 
 raised, and chubby ringers pointed. 
 
 Black was the dress of all the family. With the mother and 
 son it seemed the stiff conventional mourning, ugly and appro- 
 priate 5 but with the sisters it became the flowing drapery of 
 scarf and lace shawl, which fell about them in graceful folds. 
 The figure of the elder, and her rich heavy hair, which she set 
 off with a deep scarlet geranium, wrung toleration, if not 
 admiration, from a London maid who was put away in a very 
 high burrow next door 5 but the chubby fingers were pointed 
 with far more favour at the younger girl. 
 
 She seemed to be almost a child like themselves, and what- 
 ever shadow of sorrow was in the house must have passed by her. 
 They saw her tripping out after her sister, always a little late ; 
 and her voice supplied music for her walk, which was more a 
 dance than a walk. She was shorter than her sister, and her 
 face was small and round, and so bright that it seemed to be set 
 in her airy bonnet, like a bouquet of soft-coloured flowers in a 
 border. She was very young, and she seemed to have all the 
 delicate bloom of the flower after which she was named. She 
 was all softness, and tenderness, and love, and was made to sit 
 the whole day in the warm sun of life ; rather, those about her 
 felt that she should be reared carefully in a sort of social hot- 
 house, as a flower they might visit and watch carefully. In all 
 the cold greys and browns of that mansion, she was a bright 
 patch of colour. The cold didactic east winds, the blasts of 
 reproof, and chilling precepts, " all for her good," were carefully 
 kept away from her. She was not to know rough things, or she 
 would fade, and the stalk wither and droop. Thus, with 
 destruction and general break-up going on all about them, they 
 stood close round her, in a circle, as it were, and affectionately 
 prevented her from seeing. There was an amiable confederacy 
 to this end. The brother was rough and sour; the mother 
 querulous, with every nerve in her system shattered by sorrows ; 
 and the sister, impatient and impetuous, though full of strong 
 affections. Yet the family smiled for her sake, talked lightly 
 with aching hearts for her sake, and concealed all their scars and 
 writhings for her sake. She was so pretty, so trusting, so full of 
 little endearing ways, that dark rooms became lit up with a flash 
 when she entered, and foreheads overcast with black, clouds 
 cleared suddenly, , 
 
32 Never Forgotten. 
 
 And yet she was not one of the flighty grown-up children 
 who at twenty still find life a toy-shop. She was what is called 
 fc steady/' and took her share in the family duties. 
 
 The father in the white waistcoat, on his door step, thought 
 the elder sister " a finer woman," but the current of infantine 
 public opinion ran in favour of the younger girl. Stray skir- 
 mishers of the family, out under the command of the London 
 nurse, had met her : she had spoken to them ; and one day 
 news was passed from burrow to burrow of the warren, that 
 she had put back her tiny parasol, stooped over, and bent her 
 bright face close to that of the then infants of the family. There 
 were two uncouth boys, whose habitual occupation was hanging 
 their heavy heads, and dealing with their fingers as if they were 
 sticks of barley-sugar, but whose faces began to rage and glow 
 awfully whenever her name was mentioned, as though a blister 
 had been newly taken off their cheeks. The respective maids, 
 who had early interchanged cards, talked the matter over ; and 
 through these channels authentic information trickled through 
 the family, as it were down the stones of a weir. " She was 
 like a child in the 'ouse," said the Manuels' Lady to her friend. 
 " And we all looks on her as a child. The mother would mope 
 herself away into her grave, only for 'er. Mr. Louis was a 
 rough, uncivil kind of gentleman, "with no manners," but Miss 
 Violet someway kept him in order. As for Miss Manuel, she 
 was a fine stately creature to look at, " for all the world like a 
 married woman" as if that was the final type of fineness and 
 stateliness and was, in addition, like one of the famous unmar- 
 ried " picturs at 'Ampton Court/' 
 
 The details of their inner life, though greedily inquired after, 
 were of course not so full and satisfactory. Thus they would 
 have been glad to have had a sketch of the little night-piece in 
 the drawing-room after Fermor's visit. The blinds had been 
 pulled down, plate-glass was happily out of sight, and the lamp 
 had been lighted. Mrs. Manuel was busy with some needle- 
 work. Th^ brother, a youth who had been fitted out with no 
 profession, had shown a repugnance to entering the profession 
 where his father had spent so much of his life, as it were down 
 in a mine. He had no titular occupation, and went about 
 " mooning 5" protesting often against his hard fate in not having 
 been put early to a profession, and at times was subject to 
 curious fits of gloom, as though he had been deeply injured by 
 his family. On this night he was at the table, busy with a 
 pencil, absently sketching odd grotesque heads ; and ladies with 
 
The Sisters. 33 
 
 veils and dogs. Miss Manuel had been at her piano, and her 
 sister, in gayer spirits even than usual, had been getting up, and 
 sitting down, and going out of the room to fetch something, 
 until the constant rustle of her silk dress made the youth who 
 was sketching impatient, "Do, Violet, please sit down, or 
 stand up; fix on one thing or the other," he said. 
 
 The sister looked after her affectionately. " We must excuse 
 her," she said, " I know what is in her head, and what she is 
 thinking of." 
 
 Her mother, whose fingers were busily crossing a pair of steel 
 weapons in carte and tierce, as though they were rapiers, looked 
 over at her too. " When the two gentlemen were here to- 
 day," she said, " Ah ! /saw it too," 
 
 The young girl, who had been still getting up to search for 
 many things, and falling unconsciously into innumerable grace- 
 ful attitudes, stopped short, and looking away from them shyly, 
 and with colour rising on her cheeks like a tide, said, by way 
 of protest, " Such nonsense ! 1 am sure I don't know what you 
 all mean." 
 
 "Ah!" said her sister, greatly pleased, "I saw to-day what 
 an impression you had made on him. His distress was almost 
 amusing. He never took his eye off the other. He was in a 
 most uncomfortable state all the time," 
 
 " Now, Pauline, such nonsense ! " said the young girl, still in 
 protest. " And I am sure I don't mind him in the least," 
 
 The brother suddenly dropped his pencil, jumped up, and 
 caught her by the wrists. "Do you believe that?" he said to 
 the audience, and turning her round to the lamp. " Is that 
 like blushing ? " 
 
 He was the detective of the family, and in truth the tide was 
 surging up violently in her round cheeks. 
 
 She shook herself free, with a pretty little pettishness. 
 " When you are all looking at me so," she said, " it is very hard 
 for one not to get red. He scarcely spoke a word to me," 
 
 "I wish he did talk a little more/' said her brother, "For 
 he is clever enough." 
 
 " Except when he gets upon horses/' said her sister, " and 
 then he is fluent." 
 
 "No, indeed," said Violet, in a low voice. "I think he 
 hates the subject ; for he said to me, that to be riding a horse 
 round a drawing-room " 
 
 There was an awful pause for a few seconds. The elder 
 sister bent down her head in deep distress. " We have been 
 
 D 
 
34 Never Forgotten. 
 
 speaking of Hanbury," her brother said. "And who were you 
 thinking of ? " (Another pause.) " Upon my word we do make 
 discoveries." 
 
 In the other faces there was something like pain and con- 
 sternation. The eldest sister's foot beat impatiently on the 
 ground. The brother sketched with fierce strokes, and put in 
 vindictive shading. The young girl stood there at the bar, guilty 
 and penitent, her face glowing like a sunset. 
 
 "So this is what is going on/' said the brother. "This is 
 what we are blushing for." 
 
 But her sister, who saw that she was in real trouble and sadly 
 humiliated, hurried up to assist. ft Stop, Louis," she said. 
 " We are always teasing her, and I saw that you laid a trap for 
 poor Violet." 
 
 Th.e brother shook his head. " She would not have fallen 
 
 into it, if she had not " 
 
 A hasty rustle interrupted this sentence. Violet had fled to 
 her room. The whole was of ridiculously small moment ; but, 
 somehow, it left a blank feeling among them, for they were all 
 bound to Hanbury, and were his sworn and most affectionate 
 allies. They were disappointed, and with a grotesque mixture 
 of feeling, were half inclined to laugh and half inclined to 
 despond. While she was away, they talked Captain Fermor 
 over angrily. 
 
 "The very look of him/ 1 said Louis, "is enough. I never 
 felt so inclined to quarrel with any man. As he passes in the 
 street he almost sneers at you. The other day I could have 
 turned back and struck him'." 
 
 "lam afraid," said Pauline, hesitatingly, "he has cast his 
 conceited eye upon Violet. He is so vain and empty, and so 
 idle in this place." 
 
 " He had better not bring his idleness here," said her brother. 
 "I suppose he would like nothing better than amusing himself 
 in this house. If he comes here again, I'll insult him." 
 
 " Nonsense, Louis. You must not be violent. That sort of 
 thing does not do in this age. No ; the acquaintance is 
 scarcely even begun, so we can drop it quietly, and without 
 any fuss." 
 
 At tea-time Violet was obliged to come down and present 
 herself, which she did with a pretty confusion, and a wish to 
 hide her head in the ground under the gay contract carpet, if 
 that were possible just as a foolish and pursued ostrich would 
 do. Later "Captain Fermor was skilfully introduced, without 
 
The Night before the Steeple-chase. 3j 
 
 causing alarm, and depreciated with all the powers of his com- 
 bined enemies. He was ridiculed, sacrificed in a hundred 
 different ways. His sayings of the day were collected and set in 
 a comic light. They were thinking how well contempt can 
 kill, and went to bed that night convinced that they had happily 
 succeeded in making him appear utterly contemptible in Miss 
 Violet's eyes. For she was seen to laugh very often, especially 
 when her brother sent round a very broad caricature of the 
 wretched Fermor, very cleverly drawn. 
 
 CHAPTER THE SEVENTH. 
 
 THE NIGHT BEFORE THE STEEPLE-CHASE. 
 
 THE National Eastport race was fixed for a certain Tuesday. 
 Inland, some five miles away, there was a broad tract of rather 
 shaggy country, ragged as a well-worn hair trunk, known, in 
 short, to agricultural men as hopelessly "bad " land. But it did 
 famously for a race-course. 
 
 Some of the military gentlemen, with a very skilful person, 
 named " J. Madden, Esq.," who seemed to be generated speci- 
 ally a couple of days before every race, had been over the ground 
 and laid it out pleasantly, with a judicious eye for difficulties and 
 well-selected dangers. A hundred yards from the starting-place, 
 there was a fine opening in the shape of a low fence, and a 
 good fall or "drop'* behind it; farther on, there was a quiet 
 brook, which had often been fished for trout, but which the 
 scientific eye of " J. Madden, Esq.," saw had wonderful capa- 
 bilities, and, by a little divergence, could be included in the 
 course. It was so timid and narrow that it offered only poor 
 opportunity for accident j but it was arranged that half a dozen 
 labourers should be set to work to widen it into a handsome 
 and dangerous jump. Then the ground unhappily became 
 smooth for a run of nearly three-quarters of a mile -, but, finally, 
 after three miles and a half of sound labour, by a chance that 
 seemed almost providential, a hard and satisfactory stone wall pre- 
 sented itself, which looked as if it had been fashioned of cold 
 iron blocks. It was considered that this fatal obstacle could not 
 have been found at a more opportune place, as making a sort of 
 handsome finish to the whole, and ^eing sure, as " J. Madden, 
 
36 Never Fo-t gotten. 
 
 Esq.," put it, to "thiu off" a good many of those who had suc- 
 cessfully got round so far. 
 
 The day before, the usual unclean miscellany poured in. The 
 field began to spread such a cloud of dirty dun-coloured sails, 
 that it seemed as if a fleet of shabby fishing-boats had somehow 
 come in. The gipsies, the players, the menagerie keepers, the 
 roulette gentry, all camped there for the night. The right of 
 putting up a " stand" had, on the advice of Mr. Madden, been 
 farmed out to a speculator, and some of the speculator's men 
 were busy hammering together some terribly raw and rude 
 planks, which might have been an enlarged flower-stand, or a 
 gigantic gallows for carrying out the extreme penalty of the 
 law. So open was it, and so put together with such an economv 
 of the material, that it did seem to present nothing but a succes- 
 sion of " drops." OP the night before, a miscellany of another 
 order had poured into the little town, and filled and distended 
 it to bursting. Betting men came from distant quarters, who 
 contrived to make even poor affairs such as this bring profit ; for 
 money can be won and lost on such "events," as drops of rain 
 running down a pane of glass. The betting men were so shaven, 
 so collarless, so tight about the limbs, so partial to imitating a 
 pipe with a single straw, and so generally flavoured with the 
 noble animal who was their profession, that it was hard to dis- 
 tinguish them from other professors of the noble animal on the 
 green, who came with a tent or a "Monster Pavilion," and 
 whose evening existence was ushered in by a gold fillet and web 
 fleshings. A kind of inn, or " public," with rooms as low as the 
 cabin of a ship, received temporary rank as an hotel, and charged 
 a guinea for a corner of a room whose walls were sadly bent. 
 
 The evening before, too, all the horses came, who seemed 
 to be regarded with far more interest than the men who owned 
 them, or the miscellany who were to bet on them, or the per- 
 sons who were to ride them. As a train of them walked in pro- 
 cession through the place late at night, after the lamps had been 
 lit, all closely swathed in their robes, and hooded and veiled, 
 they seemed like brethren of a pious society who were about to 
 inter a brother of their order. They were "coddled" almost 
 like delicate children that had mammas to wrap them up against 
 the night air. They had greaves on, like a Roman soldier, and 
 some who had red edging to their clothing seemed to look out 
 of red rings round their eyes, like clowns in a pantomime. But 
 it was known that the square tall horse, that was a hand higher 
 than the others, and stepped in a rude sturdy way, was indeed 
 
The Night lefore the Steeple- chase. 3* 
 
 "King Brian," the famous Irish horse, who had raced here and 
 raced there, had beaten at Chester and Liverpool, and was to 
 beat at other great Games. Small was his owner, and was to be 
 his rider, and Small was to arrive that night but very late. No 
 one cared when particularly, since " Small's horse '' itself was 
 present. Mr. Hanbury's horse, " The Baron," had only a local 
 reputation, so that the shaven, well-pumiced gentlemen who 
 came from a distance did not make much account of him. He 
 was, however, visited in a secret stable by mysterious admirers, 
 for whom it was hoped he would win moneys, and who felt him 
 over, and stood in a half-circle about him. Mr. Hanbury was to 
 ride The Baron in person. The precautions which are taken on 
 greater occasions were carried out in a mimic way, and a groom 
 waiteu on him in his stable all night, who was popularly sup- 
 posed never to have closed his eyes. 
 
 Stil) there was a strange belief abroad that King Brian would 
 not run, after all. It was whispered, though no one knew who 
 had whispered it, that Small, to whom " Small's horse" belonged, 
 would not appear himself, which was a matter of small moment : 
 but it was currently believed that "Small's horse" objected to 
 any other rider, which was a matter of far more significance, 
 
 Mr, Madden dined with the military gentlemen that night, 
 and prepared a good deal of punch. The admiring crowd listened 
 with delight to his rambling periods, which flowed from his 
 mouth lubricated as it were with oil. Over the fumes of his 
 favourite liquor hjs face grew into a rich lake colour. His legends 
 of his craft were abundant. Craftily and confidentially ladling 
 out his punch into a wine-glass, he " put them up to a thing or 
 two." He mantled into a profuse and boundless good nature, 
 
 Hanbury and Captain Fermor were both there, listening. 
 Hanbury was delighted with this genial flow of counsel. The 
 other thought him one of those " dreadful persons " so free 
 of manners, whom it was a terrible trial fur refined people to 
 encounter. Mr. Madden, still fluent in speech, his punch, his 
 lubricating oil, his smiles, which spread away in great coarse 
 waves over his face, was not unmindful of his politics. At in- 
 tervals between his ladling he was busy with his book. The chil- 
 dren about noisily made bets with him. " He'll be scratched, 
 I'm fearful of it," he kept saying, dismally, " 1 know Joe 
 Small. He's been at his old tricks again." (The old tricks 
 were tricks that led to the affliction called delirium tremens.) 
 "If it's that" said Mr, Madden, lifting his wine-glass halfway 
 in the air, " there's about as much chance now as of that " 
 
3 8 Never Forgotten. 
 
 And he engulphed the remainder of the sentence with the 
 liquor. But still, with all these doubts and misgivings, " J. 
 Madden, Esq.," good-naturedly " took " any offers that were laid 
 against " Small's horse," just, as he said, to keep the thing going. 
 
 Just at midnight a despatch was brought in. He read it. 
 "By Jove!" he said, striking the table, "was there ever any- 
 thing like this? What did I tell ye? Tis from Cox," added 
 he, looking at the envelope in a ruminative way. " Cox, you 
 know, is Small's friend." 
 
 "Well?" said all the boys and men together. 
 
 "Well! He can't come. The old tricks, as I said. But 
 Cox says, f We must put some one on his back}' and, by the 
 Lord, some one must be got," added Mr. Madden, rising in 
 some excitement. " I tell ye, some one must be got !" 
 
 "Ah! but that's just it!" said Young Brett. "Such a wild 
 brute as that !" 
 
 " Not he," said J. Madden, Esq. " There's a way with him. 
 t know it, and his groom knows it. But is there a fellow 
 among ye ? By Jove ! we must have some one. The horse 
 must start. I tell you he must." 
 
 Hanbury had been drinking some of the punch from curi- 
 osity in a sort of pottering fiddling way. He was a little 
 excited with talking, and talking loud above the others, and 
 with, perhaps, a very little of the punch. 
 
 "We are all of us booked," he said, "for something or other. 
 We are all in to break our necks except " 
 
 "Except Fermor there," -said Thersites. "Hang it, man, 
 why don't you side with somebody or with something? You 
 never seem to me to do anything ! Why don't you take a side ? " 
 
 " For many reasons," said Fermor, sipping claret, " too long to 
 enter on here. 1 have no horse to ride, nor do I want to ride a 
 horse." 
 
 White-haired Young Brett laughed, a little foolishly. He, 
 too, had relished that punch. " Hurt your leg, eh, Fermor ? 
 Ha! ha!" 
 
 John Hanbury, who had a laugh always as it were on a hair- 
 trigger, could not restrain another burst. Fermor's lip began to 
 curl. J. Madden, Esq., struck in suddenly. "Beg pardon," he 
 said. " I know what's in a man or a horse. No case of hurt 
 leg." Then, with great respect, " Seen you, Captain Fermor, 
 I am sure, out with the Crowther hounds." 
 
 "Why, yes!" said Fermor, a little astonished. 
 
 "Recollect the day Lord Tiptree broke his leg? You and 
 
The Night before the Steeple-chase. 39 
 
 three others in at the finish. How many miles was it twenty- 
 two ?" 
 
 "Twenty-four," said Fermor, suddenly lifted out of his ice- 
 pail. " How well you recollect ! It wasn't the distance though, 
 but the heavy country. Horse died of it after." 
 
 "Ah !" said the other, "no case of hurt legs there. By the 
 Lord, sir, you are the man for Small's horse ! I know your style 
 as if I saw it yesterday. I saw you take the ditch and the heap 
 of stones. Yours is the hand for him, sir. You'll sit him, sir, 
 by " 
 
 Mr. Madden had risen in his enthusiasm, and even pushed 
 his tumbler into the middle of the table. The children's faces 
 were all turned to Fermor. He sat with a calm but gratified 
 smile, caught at the claret jug, and, with a gush, filled his glass 
 leisurely. "I am very sorry," he said. "It is very tempting, 
 but how can I ? The time is so short and " 
 
 "Not a bit," said J. Madden, Esq. 
 
 " Pray allow me to finish," said Fermor, with great politeness; 
 " and there are little matters about weight, dress, and the like. 
 I am afraid it's wholly out of the question " 
 
 John Hanbury laughed. 
 
 "'Jove, I wts afraid so all along," said Captain Thersites. 
 
 "But," said Fermor, slowly, and measuring him curiously, as 
 though he were a preserved specimen in a jar, pushing back his 
 chair and rising, " under the circumstances and to prevent a 
 disappointment I should not be inclined to make difficulties." 
 
 " What> Ye mean you'll ride?" said J. Madden, Esq., with 
 something like a shout. 
 
 " I suppose so I think so well, yes," said Fermor, delibe- 
 rately. It was quite, an opening for true unflushed gentlemanly 
 bearing. "Come to me at six to-morrow morning, Mr. Mad- 
 den. We'll go out and look at the ground. I don't promise, 
 because there may be difficulties. I have a jacket of my own 
 somewhere I always ride in mauve. Mind, six. Good night, 
 Mr. Hanbury. Good night, gentlemen." 
 
 Thersites looked after him with amazement. 
 
 "He'll do," said Mr. Madden, in delight. "By the Lord! 
 he'll do better than Small, I can tell you. Was there ever 
 such luck ! " 
 
 Honest John Hanbury, however, kept looking steadfastly at the 
 door by which Fermor had passed out, as if he could not quite 
 understand. Perhaps it had begun to strike him that this was to 
 be something more than a mere race between two strong horses. 
 
Never Forgotten. 
 
 CHAPTER THE EIGHTH. 
 
 THE RACE. 
 
 IT was a bright and fresh day, and the sun coloured up the 
 acres of faded hair trunks that spread over the race-ground, with 
 such good effect that it really presented all the air of respectable 
 and legitimate verdure. The crowd had poured out over those 
 mangy downs 5 the whole fleet of sepia-coloured sails had spread 
 itself on the horizon. The business and bustle were surprising. 
 It was a soiled, tarnished, noisy, glib miscellany one that was 
 at work ceaselessly with arms and hand, and a very hoarse voice, 
 making ceaseless invitation. A miscellany that declaimed noisily 
 over carts of stone ginger-beer bottles, that cowered down over 
 a three-legged stool, and conjured with a mysterious bridle and 
 a skewer, that presided over pieces of coarse oil-cloth daubed 
 with very raw colours and a very yellow Royal Crown, and a 
 very rusted weathercock that moved round languidly. A mis- 
 cellany that did a vast business in nuts at little shooting-targets, 
 whose range was only three feet long $ a miscellany, in short, 
 that danced and contorted in dirty fleshings, that picked pockets, 
 that sold cards, lit cigars, sang mournful comic songs, wore de- 
 cayed old scarlet hunting coats, and swarmed in and out through 
 the cars and carriages. 
 
 The large nurseryman's flower-stand was black with human 
 flower-pots. Below the flower-stand was the enclosure, where 
 every one was as busy as in a market where there was a sort of 
 enlarged rabbit-hutch, and where there was something that 
 looked like a mammoth slate hoisted at the top of a pole. The 
 human flowers, growing animated at times, came down here to 
 market, and wore little yellow tickets in their hats, and pushed 
 backwards and forwards, and talked hoarsely and loudly, and all 
 together, to stray men upon horseback, who carried their hunt- 
 ing whips on their knees at an acute angle, much as the bronze 
 mounted Louises do their truncheons. Beyond this was a plan- 
 tation of carriages, carts, and cabs, all horseless, and put closely 
 together like a gigantic barricade ; and here, in a little chartered 
 phaeton, were the Manuel girls, broken from their privacy, 
 amused, delighted, and wondering exceedingly. Mrs. Manuel 
 had sat in a vast stone amphitheatre, and had seen the wild 
 plungings of the bull, and the gored horses, and the sand steeped 
 in clotted blood, and stayed at home. This gentler spectacle 
 seemed a little tame after that. 
 
The Race. 41 
 
 With them was their brother, a swarthy meditative youth. 
 He was only twenty, but looked about him with a grave air of 
 wisdom. In that little phaeton, however, reigned a certain 
 flutter. There was to be battle and danger, which is the true 
 basis of excitement, and a likely victory. 
 
 Some small skirmishing had been gone through worthless 
 contests between say two inglorious steeds, mere foils for the 
 greater struggle fixed for one o'clock. Hanbury had come up 
 to them, his face all one great flush. " Only an hour off," he 
 said. "You never saw anything like The Baron this morning 
 as bright and glossy as silk you could see yourself in his 
 coat. He will do, I think," he added. " I have not seen 
 King Brian, though. But I am not afraid of him." 
 
 The sun flashed upon the face of the eldest Miss Manuel. 
 "And that smooth Captain Fermor! I hope he is here to see 
 you win." 
 
 " Oh !" said Hanbury, ever so little embarrassed, "I didn't tell 
 you, though you haven't heard it was settled last night he 
 is to ride King Brian." 
 
 " To ride King Brian !" said the two girls together, but in 
 quite different keys. 
 
 "Why not ? " said Hanbury, doubtfully. "And yet I am 
 sure I don't quite understand it. And he will do it well at 
 least, I suppose so," he added. 
 
 "But you told us," said Violet, fluttering, "I think, that 
 that no one but his master could ride him oh, it will be 
 dangerous." 
 
 " Exactly," said he gloomily. "And they say it is great pluck 
 to try it. But it now turns out that he is a great horseman, or 
 something of the kind. I am sure I don't understand it." 
 
 A harsh and conspicuous bell, which had been born in the 
 night, and rang every five minutes in a drunken disorderly way, 
 now began again. " I must go," said Hanbury. " Saddling 
 bell." If so, it had been about the twentieth saddling bell. 
 
 "Vanity," said Miss Manuel, excitedly, and looking at her 
 sister. " More of that vanity ! He is one mass of it. This is 
 all contrived, to show us what an accomplished creature he is." 
 
 The younger girl cast down her eyes. " I am afraid," she 
 said, "it will be a dreadful thing to see. This wicked horse." 
 
 "And poor Hanbury," said her sister, reproachfully. "You 
 let him go without a word of comfort or encouragement. I 
 saw him looking at you. I should have given him one of those 
 red geraniums. It would have comforted his heart and given 
 
42 Never Forgotten, 
 
 him courage. He will want every stimulant i^r what \i^ has to 
 go through. See, he is looking this way. We must call him 
 back. Now I rely on you, Violet. Ah !" 
 
 It was not Hanbury, but Fermor passing them quite close in 
 a great-coat like a dressing-gown calm, tranquil, as if going to 
 a ball. He bowed to them in a sort of knightly fashion. Miss 
 Manuel stamped on the bottom of the carriage with impatience, 
 " He is coming to practise his skill on us," she thought. But 
 with a pleasant smile he passed on. 
 
 Hanbury, a few yards away, had stopped doubtingly when he 
 saw Fermor approaching ; for he had all the wonderfully long 
 sight of ardent and sensitive love. But when Fermor passed by 
 so indifferently, and did not go near his treasure, his rude broad 
 honest heart was struck. He thought of the other's calm 
 courage, and skill, and training in society, and of his own natural 
 bluntness, which had really reached to surliness 5 and one of 
 his most genial smiles was spreading over his face. He was 
 ashamed of his little petty jealousy. He was actually getting 
 his hand ready to stretch out, when he saw Fermor turn back, 
 and go up to the carriage. He had seen the younger girl de- 
 taching a flower from others which she had in her hand, while 
 some dropped on the seat. Hanbury, colouring and watching 
 with fierce weariness, then saw Captain Fermor putting a red 
 flower in his button-hole. In reality he had helped himself, 
 and was saying, " I must carry off one of these. Just going to ask 
 you. Pray for the mauve jacket ! " And so he retreated, smiling. 
 That was, however, the genuine saddling bell. Forpresently,out 
 of some secret confine, bright gay-coloured figures, on horses as 
 bright, began to defile among the human flower-pots in the en- 
 closure all so light, so airy, and striped over with streaks of 
 yellows, and pinks, and all the gay colours, and seeming to be ac- 
 tually varnished like the toy figures in Noah's arks. Presently the 
 flower-stand began to fill again, and to grow black, and to rustle 
 and flutter, and the miscellany inside the paling, with the white 
 tickets in their hats, to crowd round each gaudy figure with ad- 
 miration. There was a buzz and a hum as John Hanbury, in 
 pale blue silk, came along on his great horse a mammoth 
 steed, mahogany coloured, high, square, with a chest like a 
 Torso, with a fierce eye, and his mouth strapped down to his 
 waist. But so bright, and oiled, and curled, he looked as if he 
 had stepped out of a boudoir. As he passed, his wake was 
 marked by a glitter of little white note-books, and a fresh flutter 
 of leaves. Approving eyes settled on him. When he got upon 
 
The Race. 
 
 43 
 
 the open ground he swooped away into a full bold stride, as even 
 as a pendulum. 
 
 There was a little procession of the others some small, some 
 large, some long, some shy, and some wild; and each with a gay 
 parti-coloured puppet on his back. Presently there was another 
 hum. "Small's horse !" 
 
 A delicate Persian silk mauve jacket, grateful to the eye, and 
 Fermor looking as light and small as a boy. His horse was an 
 iron grey, close knit, with a heavy secret strength in his quarters, 
 but a quiet unobtrusive beast, as if walking out to water. There 
 was great admiration at this evidence of secret power. The sun- 
 light glinted down, and brought out the rich tint of the rider's 
 dress : the Manuels caught it some hundred yards away, and the 
 second whispered to her sister, with something like a shy whis- 
 per of delight, " Look, oh, look, Pauline ! There is Captain 
 Fermor." 
 
 " How calmly he takes it! " said the other sister, scornfully. 
 " All assumed. All acting ! " 
 
 Mr. Madden, with a flag in his hand, was beside Fermor. 
 "Steady is the word," he whispered. "Recollect, he will 
 run away with you at the last mile but let him. Then gather 
 him up quietly qui-etly, sir! He is in beautiful order." 
 
 Bell again ! and start in some undiscovered corner. All the 
 figures on the great flower-pot-stand were swaying uneasily 
 steward in red coat cracking his whip excitedly to clear away 
 last few stragglers. A roar and half-leap among the flower- 
 pots. Thirteen little wooden figures out of a Noah's ark, a 
 mile away, have been seen to shoot out, and are spreading like 
 a fan. 
 
 There is a gentle rustle and agitation on the black flower-pot- 
 stand, and every second hand holds a glass but a thousand faces 
 are all turned one way. , A few Lilliputian horses may be seen 
 far off, travelling very slow, and straggling, and have gone over a 
 very tiny jump, as might be over a bit of card. But now the 
 flower-pot-stand begins to be agitated : there is a crescendo hum 
 swelling up into a roar, as from a thousand shells held to a 
 thousand ears. The stand is giving spasmodic shouts, hoarsely, 
 
 "Blue, by !" "No! red blue red yellow blue 
 
 again ! by he's down ! no, up they're all over ! " 
 
 They were, in fact, at the stone wall what Mr. Madden had 
 called the "beautiful stone wall" and were growing into 
 sight, coming on nearer, magnifying steadily. Great agitation 
 and flutter in the phaetons, for they knew not what was doing. 
 
44 Never Forgotten. 
 
 But here was the stone wall. Up, clown ! up, down again! one 
 after the other ! Blue leading, coming into sight with a flash, 
 and going over soft as velvet. Then a flash of red, then of 
 yellow, then a roar of dismay from the stand, for two are down 
 together. Roar ! reverberation of shells growing louder, arms 
 tossing, and a sound of hollow thudding on the ground, as if 
 giants were having their carpets beaten. Every head turning 
 with a flash, making an inclined plane of faces, every neck 
 straining, every foot stamping, every hand clapping, and the 
 train came thundering by, blue leading, then a" streaked yellow 
 black, and then that mauve jacket, fifth or sixth, at a calm 
 gallop, his stretches keeping time musically. This was but the 
 first time round, and they have swooped away round the corner, 
 and are gone. 
 
 They come round again. They grow out gradually, but have 
 been thinned down to some seven or eight. A riderless horse, 
 very wild, and with his own stirrups scourging his flanks, is going 
 on with the rest. Blue comes to the fence, and is seen to look 
 behind. Pink over the first. He has it. No. Yes. Blue 
 next, " That's the man ! " Then Mauve. " Yes," Mr. Madden 
 shouts 5 "now let him go!" But he has gone. They are 
 coming with a rush, and Mauve, calm as in a drawing-room, has 
 glided ahead. The great gaunt horse is seen to be in distress, 
 and Blue is using his whip. Flower-stand is one disordered roar 
 of "Blue wins ! Mauve has it no yes no yes ! " and here 
 is now the terrible wall at which they are rushing, as if they 
 wanted to crash through it. 
 
 There are wise people who affect to know the great horse. 
 He is waiting, and will go at a rush on the smooth ground. 
 Here is the wall. Now ! Crash ! As they rise in the air, 
 there is a dust of fallen stones ; and Blue, darting out of the 
 cloud like thunder, comes pounding in, the ground shaking, arms 
 working " lifting" his horse. Pink second, half a dozen lengths 
 behind 5 and Mauve 
 
 Where was Mauve ? Shouts of joy, victory, execrations, con- 
 fusion, and a great rush down to the fatal wall. A mob was 
 already gathered there before this one reached the wall. "Stand 
 back !" Some who pushed well to the front got a good view, 
 and helped to drag a shattered rider from under a shattered 
 horse. "Killed he must be killed ! " No one can speak as to 
 this for a few moments, until a surgeon, who is hurrying up, 
 shall pronounce. Then we see what has been done. " Small's 
 horse" is lying helpless on his side, with his great round eye 
 
The Race. 45- 
 
 glazing fast, and his poor smashed flanks heaving faintly. But 
 Mauve, his bright jacket torn, and soiled, and smeared, lies stiff 
 and stark on a bank as if he were dead. 
 
 The doctor is presently feeling him all over. He must be 
 bled at once. Other doctors, looking after the horse, pronounce 
 it is all over with him, and that he must be shot on the spot. 
 Others not so near, talked of it excitedly, straining their necks to 
 get a view. "I took my place here on purpose. I saw it, 
 by Jove ! He rode over on him, as sure as I am standing 
 here. I was as close as 1 am to you." Excited men from the 
 top shelf of the flower-stand, with extra strong glasses, and opera- 
 glass cases slung about them like canteens, came panting up. 
 " He ' cannoned ' him, didn't he ? I'm sure he did ! Who was 
 close who saw? He was winning, I'll swear! " But no one 
 was so frantic as Mr. Madden. For the better enjoyment of 
 what he had an instinct would take place at this stage, he had 
 posted himself close to the stone wall, but in secure shelter. 
 He was tossing his arms wildly. " I saw it all 5 the ' King ' was 
 coming beautifully to it." He was furious and savage, and 
 threatened frightful penalties. 
 
 From the Manuel carriage had been seen an indistinct ruin of 
 men and horses crumbling down together. The second girl had 
 the opera-glass, the others were all excited and in a flurry with 
 Hanbury's victory. " I knew he would win," said Miss Manuel ; 
 " did I not tell you? " But she noticed the frightened, restless 
 way her sister was looking towards the stone wall. 
 
 " Pauline, some one is hurt. I am sure of it. Do you see 
 the crowd ? I am afraid that some one is killed. Oh ! Louis ! 
 Louis ! run and see what has happened." 
 
 Pauline turned suddenly and looked at her sharply ; the other 
 dropped her eyes. 
 
 The brother went away to fetch news. Just as he got up, 
 a doctor was saying something about concussion, and giving 
 directions for removal, with quiet, &c. "Stand back!" he 
 had to say every instant -, and a thoughtful crowd, pressing on 
 him all the time, called out to others, " Stand back !" 
 
 The brother came back, but Mr. Hanbury did not. " Well? " 
 the two sisters said together. 
 
 " He is hurt," said he, " and very seriously, I think." 
 
 Even the eldest Miss Manuel showed some eagerness, some 
 agitation. 
 
 " Hurt ? " No, it can't be. Go on. Tell us about it/' she 
 said. 
 
46 Never Forgotten. 
 
 But the second girl, a little flushed, was gathering up her 
 black lace shawl about her in a restless fashion. 
 
 " He is quite insensible," he went on, " and no one seems to 
 be able to say whether he is alive or dead. I didn't see a doctor 
 there, and they don't appear to know what to do." 
 
 The younger girl had her hands clasped, and gave a cry, "Oh, 
 let us go ! " she said. "Don't let us leave him to those rough 
 people." 
 
 " Go ! No ! no ! What could we do ? " said her sister, irre- 
 solutely. She was thinking how cold, how unjust, she had been 
 to this poor steeple-chaser. 
 
 " Don't let us lose a second," said the other, opening the door 
 herself and springing out. " He has no friends here we might 
 lend this carnage we might be useful. Oh, come, come !" and, 
 with a flush on her cheek, and a decision in her speech quite 
 unusual, she took hold of her brother's arm, and they walked 
 towards the group. 
 
 There was a sort of sporting doctor there, who was busy with 
 professional exploring and appraisings. In the centre, with 
 closed eyes, and a face as white, and dull, and close in texture as 
 marble, lay the luckless Mauve rider. His wrist, which the 
 doctor had been feeling, when let go, dropped upon the Mauve 
 chest with a heavy inert sound. The brother felt his sister's arm 
 tremble in his. 
 
 " If there were any house quite close, quite close," said the 
 doctor (whose sleeves were turned over as if he were about to be- 
 gin an operation at once), " or if a roomy open phaeton could be 
 got that we could lay him in at length " and he looked round. 
 
 A very crisp, neat-looking gentleman, seeming as if he were 
 a clean cast from a mould whose grey whiskers, if one took the 
 liberty of touching them, would crackle as if made of wire 
 came up to the doctor and said : " Just the very thing ! our 
 carriage not twenty yards off. Only too happy 5 shall have it 
 brought up at once. Beg your pardon, sir -, pray excuse me." 
 This he said with extraordinary courtesy to a poor racing Fool, 
 in a battered cap and tarnished scarlet hunting-coat, and who, 
 utterly bewildered by the civility, allowed him to pass. 
 
 " Very good," said the doctor, again looking round, " so far 
 But the barracks are out of the question two miles away, and 
 a broiling day like this." 
 
 John Hanbury, with hands clasped, and a face of the most 
 abject despair and horror, was standing beside the Manuels, quite 
 stupified. He had hardly noticed them. 
 
In Hospital. 47 
 
 "Has he no friends close by? *' said the doctor, "just to take 
 him in for a few hours some one in those houses there, eh ? " 
 and he nodded at an incomplete terrace close by, 
 
 John Hanbury woke up. "To be sure/ 1 he said, hurriedly j 
 "the very thing! Won't you?" he said to the younger girl. 
 " Oh, of course you will ! " 
 
 She understood this ellipse at once. "Yes, yes," she said to 
 him j " let him come." 
 
 " Come r Where ? " said her sister. 
 
 "To our house. Yes, he must," said the younger girl, 
 excitedly ; "it is only humanity ! You heard what the doctor 
 said." 
 
 Her sister was overpowered by her eagerness. 
 
 "But " she began. 
 
 " Thanks, thanks," said Hanbury ; " here is the carriage." 
 And the fresh crisp gentleman was pushing through the crowd. 
 " Now, please." 
 
 "Gently, gently," said the doctor ; and Fermor was raised 
 softly, and carried as softly to a little open phaeton. 
 
 "My house is so far away, on the hill there else really I 
 should be delighted," said the crisp gentleman, shutting the door 
 on the doctor. " Is it to be the barracks ? " 
 
 "No, no," said the other 5 "we have got a place close by. 
 What number did you say ? " 
 
 " Oh ! Four, Raglan-terrace," said Hanbury, distractedly. 
 
 " Go at a walk," said the doctor. 
 
 And, " Oh, go on quick ! " said Violet. 
 
 The bell was ringing out harshly for saddling for the next 
 race little patches of bright colour were seen far off up at the 
 stand circulating in the ring. There was to be another race. 
 The crowd had seen the best part of this show, and might be late 
 for the other. A good many, however, remained beside this 
 tritical jump, as it was very likely there would be more falls and 
 iiore accidents. 
 
 CHAPTER THE NINTH. 
 
 IN HOSPITAL. 
 
 charitable gentleman with the clean crisp whiskers, who 
 had lent his phaeton for the insensible Fermor, was a 
 Major Carter, who, with his son, had newly come to Eastport. 
 
48 Never Forgotten. 
 
 At the foot of his letters he wrote, " Yours sincerely, Henry 
 Deane Carter;" his son signed himself "Somerset Carter/' 
 having received that name in compliment to a Lord Alfred 
 Somerset, " the man who first took me by the hand," said his 
 father very often and very gratefully j and father and son and 
 Mrs. Carter had taken the first floor of one of the villas, on 
 /me of the terra ces., and were come to live economically at 
 Eastport. 
 
 Not that this was made profession of, or was even hinted at, 
 by the small public of the place. There was a sort of little 
 Prado down near the pier, where a band sometimes played, and 
 where the men and women came and sauntered 5 and here the 
 crisp major, so clean and dry and wiry, so brushed, so speckless, 
 *so canary-coloured in his gloves, and with little boots almost 
 reflecting the company like small mirrors, first entered, as it were 
 from the wings, upon the Eastport stage, and attracted the whole 
 audience in pit and boxes. 
 
 He knew a few people already, and, leaning on the arm of 
 the thoughtful boyish son, had put the canary glove into several 
 hands. He had a pleasant gay face, fenced on each side by a 
 little light shrubbery of crisp whisker. He was the most 
 "youngish" man for his years, and had always a smile of eternal 
 welcome upon his face: a face that seemed fitted up with snowy- 
 white jalousies, like a foreign villa, which he threw open alto- 
 gether when accosting a friend. 
 
 In a few days, by some mysterious process, he knew most 
 people most people, at least, that ought to be known. The 
 people that ought to be known knew that he was a desirable 
 addition to society. They told each other very often about Lord 
 Alfred Somerset. The mention of that name was found as in- 
 vigorating as Jesuit's bark to the languid system of the place. 
 He was delightfully well bred, needed no social valet-de-place, 
 but subsided without violence or exertion into general ac- 
 quaintance. There are people who are thus never strangers in 
 a strange country, but float into company and friends. 
 
 In that little corner the accident was a tremendous excitement. 
 There was some noise and confusion on the course, in which 
 Mr. Madden's frantic cries were to be distinguished ; and from 
 that hot racing society, which greased its hair, and swathed its 
 neck in a yellow cloth, confining it with a glass pin, came loud 
 charges of foul play charges marked by loud execration. The 
 stewards, indeed, held a sort of investigation on Mr. Madden's 
 indignant requisition. There were many witnesses for Han- 
 
In Hospital* 49 
 
 bury, but the best witnesses of all were his own honest temper 
 and open soul familiar to all the riding men. He was fully 
 cleared. His profound grief was a spectacle and excited 
 sympathy. 
 
 Fermor was taken in slow and dismal procession to the house 
 in Raglan-terrace. Some one had run on hurriedly to give 
 notice. The parlour was hastily got ready. Mrs. Manuel, sur- 
 prised and aghast at what was intended, made a sort of protest, 
 but was frantically overborne by Hanbury. A crowd followed 
 and hung about the place, telling the story with relish to in- 
 quisitive passers-by. Insensible still, Fermor was carried in, 
 and Major Carter, who had the command of the whole party, 
 and who gave orders with a skill and judgment and readiness ot 
 resource that evoked respect from all, was, almost as of course, 
 admitted into the house as a sort of friend whom they had 
 long known. So, too, was the doctor and that young white- 
 haired ensign also in sad distress about the friend he so 
 reverenced. 
 
 Hanbury came in as they stood waiting m the drawing-room. 
 " It is dreadful, isn't it ? " he said. " I couldn't help it -, before 
 Heaven, I couldn't!" He glanced nervously at Violet, who, in 
 a flutter of distress, was looking steadily away. " But the doctor 
 says he thinks he is sure, that is it will! be a trifling accident. 
 It was, indeed, half his own fault/ 1 he added, piteously, as if 
 asking for comfort. 
 
 " Yes, yes," said the elder girl, " I am sure it was. It was all 
 unavoidable." 
 
 Her sister, who with eyes resolutely turned away, had been 
 half panting all this while, now turned round suddenly, her 
 cheeks colouring fast. 
 
 " His fault ? Don't say that you must not say that," she 
 said, hurriedly. "His fault? No. I saw it all. I had the 
 glass. No, you shouldn't say it, you can't say it, you know you 
 can't!" 
 
 " Oh, Violet! Violet ! * said her sister, reproachfully. 
 
 As for John Hanbury, he stood gasping at her, 
 
 " I saw it all," continued the girl, with the same excitement. 
 " I should not have said a word if there had not been an attempt 
 to put it on on that poor creature who is lying below, and 
 who can't speak or deny anything." 
 
 Hanbury gave a groan. " I never said so indeed I never 
 meant to say so only I admit it looked so ugly and so wicked 
 HI me." 
 
<o Never Forgotten. 
 
 The elder sister said, warmly, "No one thinks of such an idea, 
 and as for Violet, I know she doesn't. We are all flurried. We 
 don't know what we are doing." 
 
 Violet cast down her eyes 5 she was a little ashamed of lier 
 sudden outbreak. 
 
 The doctor was now seriously at work on the luckless Fermor. 
 An express had been sent for a greater doctor, who might arrive 
 by evening. The two girls fluttered about, half way up, half 
 way down stairs, uneasy and excited, the second strangely so. 
 Every one that passed up to fetch some aid or appliance, she 
 seemed to search with a look of anxious questioning. Major 
 Carter was invaluable. He gave confidence. Hanbury was of 
 vio more practical use than a child was even in the way. The 
 major was in the drawing-rooms, in the parlour always pouring 
 out liquid sentences in a low and steady voice ; just as he was 
 presently pouring out "drops" from a medicine-bottle. He had 
 known something of that "fine young man below." He was 
 Lady Laura Fermor's son who had been, you know, Lady 
 Laura Stonehewer he had met the whole family at Nice, or 
 Florence, or Aix-la-Chapelle, and they were charming people. 
 " No danger, I can assure you. I make it as a particular request 
 you will not be uneasy. 1 know something of the man below 
 very safe and steady attended an old friend of mine, Sir 
 James Macgregor: but when Cade comes down, in his hands he 
 is quite safe. There is no man in whom I feel such confidence 
 in any crisis of the kind. In any parr of the world, I would 
 telegraph for Cade." 
 
 In about three hours Cade arrived, a thin, swarthy man, in 
 a very high-collared frock-coat. He did not lose a second. He 
 was in a hurry to see what business there was for him to do, but 
 happily, by some fierce engines of the local doctor's, a little life 
 and feeling had been brought into that poor beaten, battered 
 figure. Mr. Cade turned back wet cloths, unswathed the head 
 as if he were unrolling a mummy, pressed it firmly here and 
 there, tapped it, looked at it reflectively with his own head a 
 little to one side, as if he were admiring phrenological bearings. 
 When he had done, he conferred with his professional brother, 
 seemed to agree with him, and then, as of course, picked out 
 Major Carter. It was thus, by a sort of fixed and eternal law, 
 that Major Carter was to affect any one into whose presence he 
 carne. 
 
 Ma]or Carter glided in with the issue paper in his hand. It 
 was a prcscriptipn. 
 
A Night-scene. ji 
 
 " Well ? " they all said, together. 
 
 "Hush! hush! my dear madam," he said 5 "we must get 
 this off first. There, now, Cade says he will do. No danger at 
 present. I knew Cade was the man." 
 
 His listeners were so thankful, that they did not perceive this 
 little encomium on Mr. Cade was scarcely just 5 for, unless he 
 possessed the Royal Charm of healing by Touch, as yet his ser- 
 vices had not gone beyond mere examination. 
 
 "And I think, my dear madam," continued Major Carter, 
 " that by noon to-morrow we shall be able to get him away 
 down to some quiet place." (He, too, had a sort of medical 
 manner, solid and reassuring.) "I can quite feel how un- 
 pleasant it must be for you all, having this business going on 
 here. But you know common charity, my dear madam 
 common charity. 5 ' 
 
 Mr. Cade was gone, having taken his confidential pecuniary 
 farewell of John Hanbury. For these offices, to say the truth, 
 he had looked towards Major Carter, as being the more promi- 
 nent of the persons he had been in relation with, and had seen 
 him retire with uneasiness. But John Hanbury performed the 
 duty with even splendour. 
 
 CHAPTER THE TENTH. 
 
 A NIGHT-SCENE, 
 
 "MRS. MANUEL, it has been said, made a sort of protest 
 against the reception of Fermor. It was a very eager, 
 earnest, and excited protest, quite out of her usual key, and it 
 surprised even her own family. "It is so extraordinary!" she 
 said, sadly; "one of his name, above all ! It is so strange 
 go extraordinary! Any one but one of that name." And 
 when Pauline, wondering, said to her, "Dear mamma, what do 
 you mean ? Surely we could not have turned him away from 
 the doors?" she only repeated the same wondering and excited 
 speech : " One of his name ! one of that name !" 
 
 This common danger and common excitement is a link of 
 sympathy. By the close of this day they knew the white-haired 
 boy-ensign, " Young Brett," perfectly. He showed a natural 
 feeling that quite gained upon them, and though serving his 
 pool friend had. unconsciouslv brought about an introduction, 
 
52 Never Forgotten. 
 
 this idea scarcely came upon him. Major Carter was gone ; 
 but after dinner it was agreed between John Hanbury and 
 Young Brett, both eager to do the whole duty, that each should 
 relieve the other in watching, Hanbury taking one half of the 
 night, Young Brett the other. Young Manuel, who, after the 
 rirst sensation and earlier sympathy, had begun to look distrust- 
 fully on the whole affair, now that it had gone forth there was 
 to be an early removal, affected a show of interest and even zeal.. 
 
 The two girls sat in the drawing-room till late, trying to 
 carry out a pretence of being busy with their ordinary labours. 
 But so great a domestic tempest does not soon go down. The 
 whirl confuses. With an agitation so recent, there is a sort of 
 fascination, drawing all talk back to the one topic. They went 
 over it again and again, with an ingenious variety. When 
 recollection slackened, there was speculation for the future. 
 But in all this the second girl took little part. She Was no 
 longer a demure Madonna, but had warmed up into a bright 
 bit of colour. Presently she went away, and repaired to her 
 own room 5 for it was now all but midnight, and full time to 
 think of bed. 
 
 She heard them all go up, and stood a long time at the win- 
 dow looking out, with her hair down upon her shoulders. Be- 
 low her, she could see a square bright patch of light upon the 
 ground, which was thrown from the window of the room where 
 Fermor was lying with a dull numbed brain, sore and half stu- 
 pified. She could see the lights of the town twinkling far 
 away down the hill, and these lights were in greater glory than 
 on a common night; for there were revellers busy singing the 
 Race, and the Horse that had won the Race, or drowning the 
 sense of a sudden and fatal poverty. A few black figures would 
 pass by trolling, with a rather halting gait, and become bathed 
 in the light from the parlour window. Then she sat down, 
 looked long at the ground, and putting her hands on her fore- 
 head, over which fell her heavy hair, drew a long deep sigh of 
 oppression, and shuddered. She was thinking of the day and 
 its events, which seemed like a nightmare 5 and the shudder 
 was for that horrid crash of men and horses and stone wall all 
 mixed, which, though she had not seen, some one had described 
 too graphically. Then she heard steps on the gravel, rose again 
 softly, peeped out cautiously, and saw Young Brett lounging 
 slowly to the gate. He looked up and down the road, for he 
 was getting fatigued with his watching, and was wishing to be 
 relieved. Then he lit a cigar. 
 
A Night Scene. 53 
 
 Still in a flutter of anxiety, she stole out upon the stairs and 
 listened. She was indignant with this "selfish boy" for leaving 
 his post at so critical a season. Uncertain and anxious, she crept 
 down softly, and stood in the little hall close to the parlour. 
 The hall door was open, and she could see that the "selfish 
 boy'' had walked away. At that moment she heard a sound of 
 tossing and a deep groan, with a sort of half cry. She did not 
 hesitate a second ; she had a good deal of Spanish leaven in her, 
 and entered the room softly. 
 
 Poor ghastly Fermor, heavy, haggard, and revealed under the 
 light of a waning candle, was writhing and twisting before her, 
 with his arm drawn across his forehead. He was on the debatable 
 ground between consciousness and dull lethargy. As he turned 
 and writhed, he kept up a low groaning like an Irish keen. 
 She did not stop or hesitate, as a correct, well-brought-up Eng- 
 lish girl might have done, but, full of grief and sympathy, went 
 up to the bedside, spoke to him, and asked what she could do to 
 soothe him. 
 
 His eyes settled on her with a dull stare, but she thought he 
 did not know her, for he commenced his keen again. There 
 was some cooling drink on the table close by, and she suddenly 
 took it up, and held it to his lips. It seemed to do him good, 
 and he took it gratefully then began tossing his arms again, 
 and groaning as if in deep suffering. Quite helpless, she sank 
 on her knees beside the bed, and covered up her face. He will 
 die she was thinking. So brave, so gallant ; above all, so calm, 
 and so all but victorious, as he had shown himself on that day. 
 He held suddenly changed: there was an indescribable interest 
 and romance about him. All but victorious: except for that 
 dark and suspicious collision, and that strange meaning look with 
 which, just before the race, Hanbury had followed him. It was 
 dreadful ; and the half Spanish girl began to heave, and flutter, 
 and grow agitated. "Oh, he will die ! he will, die!" she said 
 aloud. " And what shall I do ? " 
 
 Two figures were standing in the doorway, looking on with 
 astonishment one, at least, with admiration ; for Violet's free 
 seemed to glow softly through her hair, like a sunset seen 
 through dark leaves. 
 
 "By Jove !" said one, under his breath. Hanbury, the other, 
 gave a half groan ; then suddenly caught his companion's arm, 
 and led him softly out to the hall door again. 
 
 " What is all this for ? " said Young Brett. " I say, what are 
 you at ? " 
 
54 Never Forgotten. 
 
 ''Hush ! " said Hanbury 5 " not a word.*' 
 
 She had heard their steps, as he had intended she should, and 
 rising up softly,, half scared at the peril of discovery, glided out 
 as softly, and fluttered up-stairs. From the top she looked down 
 to the hall door, where Hanbury, with a new-born interest in 
 astronomy, was busy pointing out a star to his friend. '*' What 
 an escape 1 " she thought. John Hanbury was not thinking of 
 that star. 
 
 He did not speak for some moments ; then, roused by the 
 groans of his friend, he went in, gave him what was ordered, 
 which presently soothed the patient into a profound sleep. 
 
 Early the next morning Fermor awoke better. He had got 
 back to sense and intellect, and almost his first words to Young 
 Brett were (spoken wearily) : ff I had such strange dreams last 
 night, or nightmares, which ? Tell me. Come, was there 
 any one here last night any girl or nurse a soft, beautiful 
 creature ? " 
 
 Young Brett, who had all the openness of a boy, and a boy's 
 delight at a question to which he could give a full and satis- 
 factory answer, and thus gather importance, said eagerly and 
 ardently, " Oh I am so glad. Yes, to be sure there was ! 
 Such a surprise ! When we came in last night about midnight 
 there was the younger one " 
 
 Fermor motioned languidly upwards. 
 
 " Exactly. One of the girls kneeling there, in such a state 
 crying, I think. She looked like an angel, hanging over you, 
 by Jove ! But, by Jove ! I was not to talk to you. I am so 
 glad, my dear old fellow ! There, lie down." 
 
 The old complacent languor came on Fermor's white lips, 
 and the affected smile, as who should say, " Even in this ruin 
 and decay comes the old story ! Go on," he said, languidly. 
 
 He would have liked all the particulars, just as he would be 
 presently feeling a convalescent's appetite for a little chicken. 
 But Young Brett, somewhat frightened at what he had done, 
 would tell no more. 
 
A Splendid Departure. 
 
 CHAPTER THE ELEVENTH, 
 
 A SPLENDID DEPARTURE. 
 
 T\/"HEN the happy change was known, there was great joy 
 in the house. Hanbury was silent and grateful. A 
 \veight was off his mind. The doctor came early, announcing 
 that he could not have wished the patient to be doing one 
 particle better which seemed a grudging sort of limitation to 
 favourable wishes. But there was now another trouble in 
 Hanbury's breast. 
 
 It was found that " we could scarcely move him to-day, my 
 dear madamscarcely ! " The doctor was playing the piano 
 softly and nimbly on his lips with his fingers. " I don't know 
 but that it would be risky, too risky 3 we might lose all we have 
 gained. N o o," he continued, as if the minutes of a council 
 held inside him somewhere had just been brought to him, and 
 he had to give his casting voice, " I don I think it would do. I 
 would not recommend it." 
 
 Mrs. Manuel had all a housewife's terror of a residence of 
 many weeks -, but, relieved from that apprehension, she rather 
 liked the excitement. A couple of days more, and Fermor 
 began to mend. Another day, and he was to be moved away 
 to fresh, airy rooms, upon a hiH, taken specially by Major 
 Carter, who had proved himself through all the crisis one of the 
 most collected, efficient men of business that could be conceived 
 so practical, so delicate, so friendly, and, above all, making 
 his good offices silently felt. The Manuel family actually came 
 to look on him as an old friend. Hanbury, as the danger receded 
 into the distance, passed from deep gloom, and even despair, 
 into spasmodic delight and thankfulness : but from this stage 
 again sunk gradually into uneasy gloom and distrust. He came 
 and went restlessly. He looked from face to face doubtfully. 
 Since the night when Violet had been surprised at Fermor's 
 bedside, she had recovered her old manner towards him ; but 
 this might have beeivto deprecate misconstruction, or even dis- 
 pleasure, and to secure silence. The sense of common danger had 
 made such little misconstruction appear almost trifling. But 
 now it began to be magnified to Hanbury, at least every 
 hour. 
 
 It came to noon of the day of the removal, and a carriage 
 hired by Major Carter waited at the door. The invalid the 
 dull, bruised, confused Fermor had been gradually fading out. 
 
56 Never Forgotten. 
 
 like a dissolving view, and, in his place, were coming back the 
 harder lines of the older sleepy-eyed officer who had dawdled 
 into the saddle in the mauve jacket not many days before. In 
 a fortnight he would be well, or convalescent, and lounging 
 about in an invalid's demi-toilette. Now he looked pale and 
 delicate almost interesting, as it appeared to the maid-servants. 
 (" Lovely," one thought him, who suffered much after his de- 
 parture.) As he was lifting himself from the sofa, Hanbury 
 came in, with distress and doubt again seen on his forehead. 
 
 "Oh," said he, "so you are going, and I do hope you will 
 get quite well. I am sure I never shall forgive myself, and I 
 know you will believe me when I say, solemnly and sincerely, 
 and from my soul, that I never intended it never! never! " 
 
 Fermor smiled his old smile for the first time since the acci- 
 dent. It had not been damaged. 
 
 " Good gracious !" he said, " who supposes it ? Such an idea ! 
 It never even occurred to me." 
 
 "Thank you, thank you! I am so glad," said Hanbury, fer- 
 vently. " I knew you would stand to me. And now, would 
 you mind but this is flurrying you, and we weren't to agitate 
 you '* 
 
 "Were you not?" said Fermor, coldly. "We should have 
 thought of that a little earlier doesn't that strike you? But 
 we may as well now finish, as you have got so far." 
 
 " I didn't mean I did not, indeed. But oh, would you mind 
 just saying it over again to them ?" 
 
 " Saying what again, and to whom ? Pray speak out, I really 
 don't follow you." 
 
 "Why, you see," said the other, in fervent confidence, "it is 
 most unfortunate but she, that gentle second one, has taken 
 up some notion that it was done on purpose, and it is so unfor- 
 tunate that it looked ugly 5 but, upon my soul, as I stand here, 
 and if I were to go to my grave to-morrow " 
 
 "Really you are fatiguing yourself," said Fermor, wearily, 
 "and fatiguing me. I have told you what I thought, already." 
 
 "Ah, true! yes !" said the other, a little vaguely, "so you 
 did. But I want you, as you are going away, and may not see 
 them again for long " 
 
 Fermor smiled dubiously. " Not see them " 
 
 " You would do me such a service by telling them so." 
 
 "What," said Fermor, smiling, " that I am going away?" 
 
 " No, but about the race. The fact is, we have gone much 
 further than you suppose. It is virtually settled, or understood, 
 
A Splendid Departure. 57 
 
 and but for this unfortunate idea Indeed, if 1 could be cap- 
 able of such an act, she is not to be blamed; so it is all quite 
 natur al,you see." 
 
 "I see," said Fermor, " 1 see ; it would quite account for it. 
 Very well. Would you help me down, please, for I am as 
 weak as a child." 
 
 He really was, and moved very slowly, step by step, on 
 strong John Hanbury's arm. He reached the landing quite 
 spent, and sank down upon a sofa. Wine had to be fetched 
 hastily for him ; in fact, he had nearly fainted. The women 
 were all full of sympathy. The maid who thought him 
 "lovely" was looking on in private agony. 
 
 Nothing could be more effective than that pale face, so re- 
 fined, so delicate in tone. His voice, too, was soft and gentle. 
 It was an opening for a graceful retirement, and he knew how 
 to make profit of it. There was a touch of pathos in the way 
 he returned thanks for their kindness to him. He should not 
 easily forget. He was not strong enough now to say all he was 
 inclined to say, but he hoped they would understand him. At 
 the same time, would they forgive him if he were to say they 
 were a little bit responsible themselves for the infliction of his 
 presence ? for, if they recollected, Miss Manuel had all but 
 challenged him to ride the race. Had she not, now? and he 
 would appeal to Miss Violet there. 
 
 A little flush came upon the second girl's face, and her eyes 
 stole over to the sister's with a glance of reproach. The idea 
 had, indeed, occurred before now to Miss Manuel with some 
 remorse. 
 
 "I did not do so badly after all, you see," he said, smiling; 
 " and only for that stupid animal which our friend rode, should 
 have done better." 
 
 Violet here was compressing her lips and beating her foot on 
 the floor. 
 
 " By the way," he continued, " I had just time at the moment 
 to see how he turned and lurched over on me. I saw you try- 
 ing to keep him straight, Hanbury, but the strongest arms in 
 England could not have kept that brute from having his way. 
 Forgive me," he added, gaily, "but you know I never was 
 frantic about him." 
 
 Hanbury looked round triumphant, arid there was exuberant 
 gratitude flooding his cheeks. Miss Manuel looked doubtful. 
 The second girl turned away her eyes, then walked over to the 
 window to look at the sea. 
 
j 8 Never Forgotten. 
 
 Major Carter How came bustling in, crisp and crackling. It 
 was time to go. Would Captain Fermor take his arm? There, 
 He had been up at Brown's-terrace. He had been putting the 
 last few final touches to the new and airy lodgings. 
 
 Fermor, propped up on the friendly Carter's arm, faded grace- 
 fully from the room. Wistful eyes followed him. The maid 
 whose peace of mind was hopelessly gone, took a last and long- 
 wistful gaze. Hanbury, brimming over, bounded down before 
 him and about him with the exuberance of a mastiff. At the 
 carriage door he gave Fermor a grip of gratitude. 
 
 "I shall never forget it, never !" he said. "It was noble 
 perfectly noble !" 
 
 And when the carriage drove away, he came bounding up 
 again, for he was now fairly " rehabilitated j " perfectly cleared 
 and made straight in his character. 
 
 Alas, how little he knew ! It was, indeed, only the " rehabi- 
 litation" of Fermor. For that bit of chivalry and generous testi- 
 mony to one who was scarcely a friend, had painted in a sort of 
 exquisite "glory" round his head as he retired. It was about as 
 unfortunate a calling of testimony into court as could be con- 
 ceived. 
 
 CHAPTER THE TWELFTH. 
 
 A CONVERSATION. 
 
 T 
 
 HE little watering-place was gliding into its season. Houses 
 were in demand, and house-rents high. The natives 
 looked on proudly, and said to each other that it was going to 
 be "gay." Among the same class there was an instinct that 
 Major Carter, so newly arrived, was to be accepted as a being 
 from the fashionable immortals. Without effort he had come 
 to know nearly all men and women. They were delighted 
 with his talk, inlaid with fine glittering names, like a mosaic 
 with bits of lapis lazuli. He stood by, a conversational points- 
 man, and skilfully turned the train of talk into aristocratic sidings, 
 
 What passed in Fermor's mind as he came slowly up the stairs 
 into his new rooms at Brown's - terrace, was an impatient 
 " This fellow will want to fasten an acquaintance on me !" and 
 he thought, with the peevishness of sickness, what a penalty this 
 was to pay for the few little offices he had received. He was 
 laying out, with disgust, how, after a mess dinner, he should 
 
A Conversation. 59 
 
 insist on a receipt in full, and coldly " drop the fellow," when 
 Carter, having got him to the sofa, said, in his gay way, 
 
 " Now, good-bye ! You shan't see me again for weeks, until 
 you are well. Positively no. And even then I don't know, I 
 am not a visiting man. I like to know a few people, not a 
 whole town, you know. By the way, you do not find this 
 
 Fermor only raised his eyebrows. 
 
 "Ah! so I should think. You want the 'Junior/ and 
 'Brooks's,' and Lady Glastonbury's box. Of course this does 
 well enough for the common set, for your friends up at the fort, 
 and that son of thing. I tell you, you will have to get away 
 from us as quickly as you can." 
 
 This was like a censer swung before him, and he accepted 
 the fumes very complacently. " Don't go yet," he said, 
 graciously. " Please don't. Sit down for a short time." 
 
 "Only for a moment, then," said Major Carter. "Though 
 I recollect that Lady Gunning always said that those visits 
 where one was in a hurry to go, turned out the longest visits 
 after all." 
 
 "You knew the Gunnings?" said Fermor, with a little 
 eagerness. 
 
 " Oh yes; used to meet them at Aix-la-Chapelle." And on 
 that text being given out, the two together broke into a sort of 
 hymn of reminiscence, recalling in alternate versicles many 
 fashionable names. Fermor, so long in a convalescent jail, could 
 now breathe a little fashionable fresh air. The visitor was very 
 amusing ; knew of, if he did not himself know, innumerable 
 "men;" men of peace and men of war, and men of clubs, 
 concerning whom he had newer and more recent news than 
 Fermor could have ; who though conscious of being made a little 
 inferior by having to receive information, his zest for the details 
 made him overlook the channel of this information. He was 
 already rather inclined towards this Major Carter, but one little 
 incident finally determined his inclination. 
 
 " By the way," said Major Carter to Fermor, turning back, " I 
 am afraid, while you were sick/ I took a serious responsibility 
 on myself." 
 
 " How ? " said Fermor. a little uneasily. 
 
 "Why," said he, " there was a telegram sent to your family 
 at Nice, and " 
 
 Fermor's cheeks began to colour faintly. 
 
 " Do you mean to say they ventured to do that? Bring them 
 
60 Never Forgotten. 
 
 all over here ! Was there ever such conduct ? The thing I was 
 so guarded against. Good gracious!"' And in real distress he 
 half rose from his chair. 
 
 " I am very glad to hear you say so/* said the other, soberly. 
 " Don't disturb yourself now. I quite took that view, and 
 ventured to interpret your wishes. That well-meaning, but not 
 over-discreet person, the tall strong man with the horse, you 
 know, was for telegraphing all over Europe, and for everybody, 
 in a sort of s frantic way. I saw there was no use reasoning with 
 him, so I took charge of the message, put it in my pocket, never 
 sent it, and here it is." 
 
 "Thanks, thanks! " said Fermor, with more earnestness than 
 he had exhibited for months. 
 
 " It is really a relief to my mind," said the other. " I was 
 afraid I was taking too much on myself." 
 
 Then changing the subject, as if it were too trifling to be 
 dwelt on further : tf You won't be disturbed here. I took care 
 to see about the neighbours. The house to the right is unlet, 
 and the one on the other side belongs to an invalid, a girl in a 
 consumption, with a grim old father your landlord, by the way. 
 I was quite scared when I saw him first. Good-bye! Good-bye, 
 Captain Fermor ! " 
 
 Fermor said good-bye with wonderful cordiality. He was 
 pleased with his visitor's humble departure. "But if he had 
 dared to ' Fermor ' me, I had made up my mind to cut him 
 from that moment." For this was one of the little tests and 
 gauges of gentility. " I thought there was something of the 
 gentleman about him. I generally pick out the right thing." 
 
 In stricter truth, the right thing had picked him out; but the 
 invalid Fermor that night approved pleasantly of all the invalid 
 Fermor had done. Specially did he revert to the graceful and 
 dramatic fashion in which he had "backed" off the Manuel 
 stage ; then thought sweetly of the dark-eyed girl. A really 
 charming creature 5 something so natural in the business. The 
 whole little play seemed to him, as he lay back on his cushioned 
 arm-chair, still with half-closed eyes, very sweet, and painted in 
 warm soft clouds everything about it, even the utter rout of 
 that poor boor, with his horses and horse-talk. He was think- 
 ing, according to his favourite formula, how your true-bred gen- 
 tleman always must win in the long run, when that honest 
 Young Brett, who kept at his heels like a rough simple terrier, 
 came in. 
 
 After a pause, Young Brett said, " I told them to bring up 
 
A Conversation. 61 
 
 Don. I thought you would like to have, him, as he would be 
 company for you. I got a house put up in the yard for him ; 
 you can see him from your bedroom window." 
 
 He was a "good fellow, ' this Young Brett, and it was not 
 surprising that most people liked him. He was always doing 
 some well-meant thing of this sort. Fermor thanked him lan- 
 guidly. " Very good of you, indeed. Glad to have the dog. 
 Thanks!" He always said "thanks/' not " thank you/' as a 
 more refined acknowledgment. 
 
 Fermor was fond of reveries and castle-building; such castle- 
 building, at least, as in the grounds attached he could make out 
 his own figure strolling, with a divine air about it, like a god 
 dressed in human clothes. He made himself speak, and loved 
 to hear his own voice, in a calm and quiet way, doing marvels. 
 On this night he thought pleasantly of the day's work. His eye 
 rested with pleasure on the half Spanish girl. Her devotion and 
 personal worship, discovered so curiously, was most acceptable; 
 he smiled as he thought of her. " She is a lady," he said aloud: 
 " the only lady among them all," The rest, indeed, had long 
 since been sorted off into " cads " and " low creatures." " Very 
 odd," he continued, musing; "she is just the sort of character 
 I had always laid out I should marry that is, if I ever were to 
 marry." And he smiled again, as he watched her walking 
 pensively through his grounds, mournful, melancholy. Then, 
 recruited by the little panorama, and really " fond" of the "poor 
 child " (as he called her aloud), he went to bed. 
 
 He was fond of dogs in a negative fashion, and liked them for 
 a sort of society. But this night his love for them was not 
 strengthened ; for about one o'clock he was awoke by the full 
 barking of Don ; who, though otherwise sensible, felt strange 
 and uncomfortable in new quarters. Sleep was precious to 
 Fermor ; and, after an hour's impatient chafing, he got up and 
 rang for his man. His man had been awakened also, and had 
 long since been protesting in stronger language against the dis- 
 turber. He went out as he was ordered, and beat the dog, 
 which he was not ordered to do, then let him loose. In fact, it 
 was but the dog's way of proclaiming that he was uncomfort- 
 able, and scarcely at home in the new tenement that had been 
 hired for him. 
 
 About four in the morning he broke out again, and awoke 
 Fermor once more, who, between his teeth, said aloud, " I'll 
 have him shot at once ; " a sentence which he later changed 
 into " I'll give him away." 
 
6a Never Forgotten. 
 
 CHAPTER THE THIRTEENTH. 
 
 A FAMILY FERMENT. 
 
 A FTER Fermor had gone off the stage with such effect at 
 ~ Raglan-terrace, Violet fled to her room. But when she 
 came down again later, in the half light which, perhaps, she 
 was waiting for she found a silent and gloomy council sitting. 
 The young girl, with sparkling eyes, looked from one to the 
 other with a sort of triumph, as much as to say, " Is he not 
 charming ? And his generous declaration going out, all to clear 
 John Hanbury ! " But they said nothing, and her brother 
 walked over to the window. 
 
 " Well," she said, a little embarrassed, " so he has gone after 
 all ! How curious a thing it has been altogether his coming, 
 and his being brought to our house ! " And again she waited for 
 the talk to be taken up with sympathy. 
 
 "I wonder," said her brother, turning round suddenly, " how 
 you mean all this to end ? How are you behaving to John 
 Hanbury ? " 
 
 " To John Hanbury ? ' 
 
 " Yes, dear," said her sister, with a sort of " humouring, ' 
 coaxing manner, "you know we must think of him. Louis 
 is right, indeed, and I am not sorry we have got rid of our sick 
 man." 
 
 " Sick man, said her brother, sorrowfully, " sick actor, if 
 you like. He knows how to do the thing with effect. He is 
 eaten up with vanity. I saw what he was at the whole time." 
 
 Violet looked at them both wistfully. Her lip was trembling. 
 
 " No, no," she said, "he was really 511 5 he really suffered. 
 The doctor said so, and they all said so." 
 
 "That may be," said her brother. "But, my good child, it 
 j's time that we should try and grow sensible, and steady, and 
 leave off our romances." 
 
 "Yes, dear," said Mrs. Manuel, "listen to Louis." 
 
 " Here you are fully committed to Hanbury, and as good and 
 honest a fellow as you could pick out of the world. I have toUJ 
 him so. You have told him so yourself." 
 
 "No, indeed, no ! " said the girl eagerly j " he was to wait* 
 to wait as long as I pleased ; and as I might change my mind, 
 he said, he would not hurry me. He is very good, and noble, 
 and amiable, and I should not like to b'irt his feelings, indeed I 
 should not j but " 
 
A Family Ferment. 63 
 
 " What ! " said the brother, turning on her gravely. " Do 
 you mean to tell us you have changed your mind, after leading 
 this man on for nearly a year to believe you liked him, and 
 giving him what amounts to a consent and that you are going 
 to go back, all for a childish whim of this sort ! Oh, I couldn't 
 believe it ! Ah, Violet, I am astonished at you ! You think a 
 good and faithful heart can be picked up like any pebble on the 
 roadside. If you throw it away, you have only to look for 
 another." 
 
 The voice of Mrs. Manuel was now heard. 
 
 " Hush ! Don't, now ! Violet has been foolish, but she sees 
 her foolishness. She is very young 5 she has much to learn. 
 She will do better in future." 
 
 " Will she? " said the young man ; " I don't think so. At this 
 very moment she is thinking of that empty-headed, conceited 
 fellow that went off so theatrically. A vain English fop ! I know 
 the man thoroughly." 
 
 "No, no, Louis," said her mother, anxiously, "she never said 
 so. She does not dream of it." 
 
 " Of course not," said her sister, gaily. " We are only fright- 
 ening the poor child with our lectures." 
 
 " I never said so," said Violet, a little piteously. " I am sure 
 I respect and like him, and always did j only I don't want to be 
 hurried on so dreadfully." 
 
 "No, of course not," said her mother; "why should you, 
 darling ? We were only alarmed about that captain, who is so 
 full of himself." 
 
 " I'm sure she has too much sense," said her brother, "and I 
 knew she had. I only wanted to be on the safe side. But we 
 have got him safe out of the house ; and I shall take good care we 
 shan't have that languid mass of affectation here again, doing 
 his antics day and night." 
 
 Violet spoke with a forced calm : " But why do you fix that 
 friend of yours on me? I have never sought him. It is you 
 it is he that has pursued me " 
 
 " Never sought him ! " said the youth. " No not since you 
 met this other man. But before then how did you behave ? 
 Did you speak to him walk with him? Did you ride his 
 horses ? Did you encourage him ? " 
 
 " Why do you speak to me in this cruel way ? '" she said, 
 rising up in growing excitement. " Ah ! I see none of you 
 understand me not one! Let me go to my room," said 
 Violet. "I have no one to help me no one to pity me here 
 
t>4 Never Forgotten. 
 
 The anxious mother, more observant than the others, saw 
 hysterical signs, and interposed. She ran to her. 
 
 "There ! we shall say no more about it. Hush, dears ! We 
 shall not see him again for a long time, and be gradually rid of 
 him. Go and lie down, dear ; you look heated, and we wil] 
 talk no more about it." 
 
 " But she must promise ! " said her brother, who was as excited 
 as she was. "She must promise me before she goes." 
 
 Her face glowed, and she fell again into her supplicating 
 manner. It was as though she were helpless among them all, 
 and begging pity. "I shaU not. I can't indeed I can't !" she 
 said. Then she suddenly burst out into floods of hysterical 
 tears. " This is very cruel of you ! What have I done ? How 
 can you go on so to me ? But I am stronger and wiser than you 
 think, even if you all join against me." 
 
 Her mother came over, in alarm, to soothe her. She sobbed 
 upon the sofa. The sister and brother looked on from a distance 
 a little disturbed. Louis then broke out impatiently " Such 
 childishness, such folly. Viola all over." He could not contain 
 himself to see a brave, noble, honest fellow, who could make her 
 happy, treated in this way. Which was all apologetic, for the 
 discussion was virtually at an end, and she presently rose, and, 
 with a start, fled away to her room. The others looked at each 
 other with doubt and alarm. She was the excitable one of the 
 house, and had to be humoured and petted. Now they were m 
 confusion, and looked at each other guiltily. The son was 
 troubled : she was, in fact, loved bf them all, and was their 
 human toy. These chidings were all for "her own good;" so, 
 at least, they always apologised to their own hearts : but when 
 she showed signs of this sort of distress, she had them at her 
 mercy, and did what she pleased. 
 
 In a few seconds, her sister had flown upstairs after her, had 
 found her on the bed with her face pressed against a very wet 
 pillow, and in an instant was kissing her. The other did not 
 push her away, but only sobbed bitterly. 
 
 " Hush, hush ! " said Pauline gently 5 "you are not to go on 
 this way you will get ill again. There, we won't worry you any 
 more. We did not mean it, indeed we did not. We were only 
 sorry for him, you know. But we won't talk of it.'* 
 
 The brother, a little repentant also, had stolen up, and was 
 listening, Presently he was heard tapping. The younger girl 
 was quite softened at these advances j she was even forward, in 
 faintly owning that she was wrong, that she did not mean any- 
 
New Acquaintances 65 
 
 thing, and that she had headaches. In short, there were mutual 
 concessions, and it was all " made up." 
 
 That night, Han bury came in, joyous and rubbing his hands 
 together He was very happy. He knew that now the clouds 
 had p-;$sed over. The sad impediment was now happily trans- 
 ported away. His own fame had been cleared, and he was 
 almost boisterous. 
 
 All the family came down to him. Viola bathed her eyes, 
 and, possibly a little ashamed of her late outburst, came in with 
 smiles, and even affected good humour.. There was an effort in 
 all the members of the family, as if they were anxious to get 
 rid of the recollection, and Mr. Hanbury went away that night 
 late, singing softly to himself in placid contentment, convinced 
 that he never had been so firmly established in the affections of 
 her he loved. 
 
 CHAPTER THE FOURTEENTH, 
 
 NEW ACaUAINTANCES. 
 
 "IT^HEN Fermor had just done a very light breakfast, which he 
 took in a sort of " gleaming" fashion, his man came in 
 to say there was a gentleman below who wished to see him. 
 
 "Who is he, and what is his business? " said Fermor, with 
 the polite haughtiness he always adopted towards servants. 
 
 " Doctor Carlay, sir, he calls himself, and I think he's from 
 next door." 
 
 "I won't see him, I really can't see him," said Fermor, 
 pettishly, and dropping the aristocrat manner of a sudden, 
 " How I am persecuted !" His tone was as of one who could 
 have wept over himself. "I want no doctors, I have one of 
 my own ; send him away, please." 
 
 "Please, sir, I don't think he's come about that I think it's 
 about the dog." 
 
 " What a persecution ! " said Fermor. " How can / help it? 
 Make him go. How I am worried ! " 
 
 Three firm, steady knocks were heard at the door, which was 
 then opened gently, and a man's figure was in the entrance. 
 The servant went over to prevent his entrance, but he kept his 
 hand on the handle of the door, and bowed a sort of firm 
 protest. 
 
 p 
 
66 Never Forgotten* 
 
 He was a very singular-looking person, more than six feet 
 high, and so hard in texture, rough in corners and projections, 
 and generally impenetrable, that he suggested the idea of being 
 cast iron all over. He was stiff and unbending as that metal, 
 and, where he had any hair, it was all roughened into a sort of 
 grey wiry grizzle. Fermor looked at him with surprise. But 
 he had no effect upon the servant, who was accustomed to 
 strange characters ; and he was presently described below stairs 
 as " a queer customer." 
 
 "'I have taken a liberty, a very great liberty, I am afraid/* he 
 said, in tones which were gentle certainly gentlemanlike and 
 not what might be expected from a grim casting, " to break in 
 on you without ceremony. It is only the necessity of the case 
 
 that must excuse me. Your dog last night " 
 
 f( Oh, I know that," said Fermor, still pettishly; " he disturbed 
 r^e, too, as well as you. It was no fault of mine. You know I 
 could not divine it beforehand." 
 
 The other began to grow yet more grim. 
 "I don't speak for myself. It would be very hard to awake 
 me. And if I was awakened, it would not make much matter. 
 But I must ask you to have the dog sent away and, really, 
 without discussion." 
 
 There was a hard churlishness about the way this was put 
 which was offensive. Fermor coloured, and hurriedly got into 
 his most chilling outside coat. 
 
 " If you had waited, sir," he said, "you would have heard 
 that the dog was to be sent away on this very day. There is no 
 necessity for insisting, or any allusion to such things. What did 
 I tell you this morning, Bates, about the dog?" 
 
 "He is gone, sir. He was at the barracks an hour ago." 
 This little stroke brought back all Fermor's good humour. 
 " I am glad to hear it," said the other, not in the least more 
 softly. " I mistook, it seems. Sometimes, you know, you meet 
 men who object to do things, simply because they are required 
 to do them. Some of your profession have that way. You will 
 recollect, I had never spoken to you before." 
 
 " Well, curious to say, / always know a gentleman," said 
 Fermor, "by a sort of instinct." He was in excellent vein, he 
 thought, that morning. 
 
 " I am detaining you," said the other, not in the least con- 
 scious of the thrust. "I must again apologise for disturbing 
 you. I might have written, but writing is not nearly so much 
 to the point as speaking. Writing only leads to more writing. 
 
New Acquaintances. 67 
 
 It was only the necessity of the ease and comfort of one whom 
 I care for more than I would for a dozen like myself, that could 
 force me in upon the world in this way. In fact/' he added, 
 coming back a little, " it is only fair to let you know that if I 
 had heard your dog last night, and he could not have been got 
 to remain quiet, I should have quieted him at once. Between 
 human welfare and canine life, you know, I could not hesitate. 
 Good morning ! " 
 
 And with this he passed cut and shut the door. 
 
 Fermor looked after him, indignant, fuming, yet mystified. 
 "Such manners, such free and easy airs! Like every one in 
 this place ! " He tossed impatiently in his chair. He then, 
 called to his servant. " Bates ! never let that person in again." 
 
 He was mending a good deal. He was better to-day than 
 he had been yesterday, and looking in the glass, among his 
 brushes heavy as ivory mallets, and his silver- topped bottles, he 
 was struck by what he called the " half delicate, half spiritual " 
 tone his face had assumed. He looked down at his fingers, nnd 
 rejoiced in their mother-of-pearl tinge. Now he was ready to 
 "see " people. Some of the " fellows " would be sure to come 
 boring him with their dull talk, and now they had him helpless 
 and at their mercy. But they did not come, and he sat there 
 fretting because they were sure to come, and because, at the 
 same time, they did not come. Captain Fermor was, however, 
 not what is called popular with his fellows. He was indignant 
 at this desertion, and over and over again pronounced them a 
 " low, selfish set.*' 
 
 Young Brett, however, faithful as a terrier, appeared about 
 noon, and Fermor, a little grateful for this attention, was almost 
 inclined to pass a short statute excepting him from the penal 
 clauses of general "lowness " and " cadship." Young Brett had 
 not much to say, yet, somehow, was company. He had no flow 
 of talk, and yet people notably "fellows" looked kindly to- 
 wards him. Later, on his way out to India, he had gone in and 
 out of a poor stranger officer's cabin, had cheered him with a 
 word or two and a scrap of ship news, had read him a news- 
 paper, but all without any effort or show. The other passengers 
 made a showy visit now and again, but found the thing a 
 nuisance. Young Brett's honest, sympathising face was worth 
 all the drugs the ship's doctor ordered. The sick passenger's 
 eyes lighted as he filled up the little cabin door. By-and-by 
 the sick officer died, and was cast over the side. Long after, 
 when Young Brett had forgotten the voyage, he received a letter 
 
68 Never Forgotten. 
 
 from a famous London gunmaker, asking for directions as to the 
 make of a gun lie was busy with for him. The other said there 
 must be a mistake j which brought out, that the sick officer 
 had added a postscript to the last letter he ever wrote, begging 
 his people at home to send Young Brett a gun and as handsome 
 a gun as money could purchase in token of how he esteemed 
 his kindness during that last voyage. 
 
 He was now looking out of the back window of Fermor's 
 lodgings, on the row of gardens, which were large, and pretty, 
 and grassy. It was a fine sunny day. " 'Jove ! '* he said, " should 
 like so to roll oneself in the grass lie there all day, you know, 
 and smoke cigar after cigar. You ought to go out yourself. 
 Yes, by Jove!" he added, as if lighting on a sudden discovery, 
 " the very thing! " 
 
 "And lie on the grass," said Fermor, "all day? No, no. 
 That is not the life I should like.'' 
 
 " Well, I mean for a time, you know 5 the fresh air would 
 set you up. 'Jove ! " he added this was his favourite heathen 
 god, whom he appealed to constantly "there's some one in 
 the next garden now. Come and look, Fermor. Did you ever 
 see such a grim old ' buffer? ' He's as stiff as a rnusket." 
 
 "Yes," said Fermor, calmly, above all curiosity, "I know him. 
 He came bursting in on me this morning ; something about that 
 dog you brought here." 
 
 " And I suppose you shut him up. A very awkward customer 
 though." 
 
 " Why, yes," said Fermor, placidly 5 "I think he did not 
 take much by his visit. J have a way of my own for that class 
 of people." 
 
 " Ah ! " said Young Brett, with admiration 5 " that's it ; just 
 what I envy so in you. 'Jove ! " he said again - } "look here. 
 They're coming with a sort of procession, I declare. A girl, and 
 an old fellow, and a maid and a chair." Then, after a pause 
 a long deep-drawn " By Jove ! " 
 
 Fermor looked out, succumbing to curiosity. There was a 
 sort of little progress a girl leaning on the grim figure maid, 
 pillows, chair, just as Young Brett had described. The sun was 
 very strong and sultry, and not a breath of air abroad. The chair 
 was set down full in the sun, and the young lady assisted into it, 
 but sat with her back to the houses. The maid then opened her 
 parasol for her. The grim figure stood over her, talking as 
 grimly ; at times walked away on a sort of beat with stiff iron 
 motions, and came back. 
 
New 
 
 u Why don't she turn round and let us see her face ? " said 
 Young Brett, impatiently. " I wonder who she is- 1 I am sure 
 she's pretty." 
 
 " She is the girl," said Fermor, with an air of knowledge, 
 "I know it all. It was about her he came in." 
 
 "I thought it was about a dog," said Brett. 
 
 "Well, it might be. One don't necessarily exclude the other. 
 Hush ! I declare Did you see her then ? " 
 
 She had looked slowly round while her father was away on his 
 beat. They both saw her. A soft English face, full of goodness, 
 and of the beauty of gentleness and good humour. But there 
 were traces of sickness and delicacy. 
 
 " 'Jove ! " said Young Brett, "she 29 one ? You are always in 
 luck, Fermor. You always tumble on your feet in these sort 
 of things. Lucky fellow !" he added, with jocularity. " Don't 
 tell me , you knew of this all the time, and picked out the very 
 house. Ah ! " 
 
 This sort of freedom, and on this class of subject, always made 
 Fermor shiver. He said, coldly, "You took the lodgings your- 
 self you or that Major Carter I forget which I neither care 
 nor know who are my neighbours." 
 
 "Nonsense! What nice work will be going on! Tele- 
 graphing, eh ? " 
 
 Fermor coloured. Rallying confused him. " I don't under- 
 stand you," he said. " I never do understand that sort of thing. 
 Pray don't talk in that way. I don't like it." 
 
 The other coloured in his turn. " I didn't mean, Fermor " 
 
 he said. "I beg your pardon.'' 
 
 " No, no," said Fermor, soothed by this humility, " there are 
 fellows with whom that sort of thing goes down. I don't care 
 for it. It may be a defect ; but I don't." 
 
 " I saw the Manuels this morning," said Young Brett, abruptly. 
 " Ah ! the second is a nice one. I am beginning to suspect our 
 friend is really getting her." 
 
 " But is he, though ? " said Fermor, contemptuously, and yet 
 a little nervously, " Is he quite sure ? " 
 
 " Well, I met him this morning, with a mouth open from ear 
 to ear, and he squeezed my hand as if it were in a vice, and 
 when I asked when he was going away, he looked knowing, and 
 said it depended. But I must be oft' myself; promised to go 
 with Page and look at a horse." 
 
 " What a hurry you are always in ! " said Fermor. " Surely 
 you are not quite a Secretary of State, or Governor-General of 
 
/o Never Forgotten* 
 
 India, or a Member of Parliament or is this horse affaif 
 matter of life and death, that you can't afford to be a moment 
 late. Will the horse die, if you are not precisely punctual ? " 
 
 " Oh, no," said poor Brett, sitting down ruefully under 
 this shower of sarcasm, " Not at all j just as long as you 
 please." 
 
 " Well, is there no news ? Surely there must be something 
 going on ? " 
 
 " No ; nothing that I know. Every day is much the same 
 with us, you know." 
 
 " You should read Mrs. Barbauld's little story of ' Eyes and 
 No Eyes.' If you don't use such faculties as you have, you will 
 become quite dull. Did the Manuels tell you nothing? By the 
 way, which of them did you see? " 
 
 " The second one. She was in the front garden, and the gate 
 was locked, and I spoke to her over the rails ; and when I told 
 her I was going to see you, by Jove ! But you will be angry if 
 I tell you." 
 
 "Not at all," said Fermor, good-naturedly. "Tell it your 
 own way. Go on. Well? " 
 
 "Well, I assure you she had a bunch of scarlet geraniums in 
 her hand, and I could not tell which was the reddest.' 
 
 " Which ? of the geraniums ? " 
 
 " No ; the geraniums or her cheeks. I'm afraid, old fellow, 
 you have been doing mischief there ; I am, indeed." 
 
 Fermor passed over the "old fellow" with wonderful good 
 nature. He shook his head with great good humour, and said 
 it was nonsense. 
 
 " And yet," said Young Brett, thoughtfully, " what deep ones 
 they are ! " 
 
 " Who ? " said Fermor. 
 
 "Oh, women girls!" said the beardless Rochefoucald. 
 
 "That night when I caught her Well, any fellow would 
 
 have thought it was a desperate case, and yet, you see " 
 
 Fermor suddenly became cold. " I don't follow you," he 
 said. 
 
 "I mean," said Little Brett, "it turns out that all the while 
 she is to marry that fellow. Any fellow would be taken in, 
 you know." 
 
 "I can't keep up with you at all," said Fermor. "Your 
 partiality for that word is quite confusing. Have you heard 
 anything since ? What do the precious gossips you go among 
 say? " 
 
New Acquaintances. jl 
 
 *' Well, Showers says- 
 
 c Oh, Showers! 1 ' said Fermor, with contempt. (Showers 
 was Thersites.) "Is he to be quoted next ? " 
 
 "I don't know," said the other. "He picks up whatever is 
 going on, and he says they have settled it all, and that 
 you " 
 
 "//" said Fermor, colouring. "Do you mean to say they 
 have been daring to mix my name up in the business ? I hope 
 you have not been 1 am sure you have " 
 
 " No, no," said the other, in great alarm. " It was only one 
 night that Showers was talking in his impudent way about you, 
 and saying you went after every girl, making people think they 
 were dying for you, and I got angry, and and " 
 
 "And told what you saw that night," said Fermor, very hot 
 and excited. "Just what I would expect. It ivas a great liberty. 
 You had no business to do it. Such a thing ! ' And he began 
 walking up and down the room. 
 
 " I never meant, I am sure " said Little Brett, penitently. 
 
 "And how did he and those people take it ? You may tell it 
 all now." 
 
 " Well, they laughed," said the other, with great eagerness 
 and candour, as a kind of atonement, " in a sort of way, you 
 know. And Showers said he didn't believe it, that it was all 
 brag, and that you were always in some 'sickly dream ' or other, 
 and that he had it from Hanbury himself, on that very morning, 
 that it was all settled." 
 
 Fermor groaned once more. This, again, was like being 
 plunged into the sea on a December morning. 
 
 Little Brett, somewhat scared, left him still pacing up and down, 
 and in great distress. He was morally shivering every time he 
 thought of that odious Thersites Showers and his coarse jesting, 
 and of the loud chorus laugh of the rest. Above all, his em- 
 phasis rested on "that stupid Brett." "But what could be 
 expected," he said, with all scorn and pity, "from such a set? 
 Not a gentleman among them . even their names Thrupp, 
 Slack ! I should like to give them a lesson to take them 
 down a bit. I should like to show their mean natures how little 
 they know about the matter." And with many bitter similes 
 he seemed to be laying out some very satisfactory schemes 
 which would confound them all, and lay them grovelling at his 
 feet. 
 
ya Never Forgotten. 
 
 CHAPTER THE FIFTEENTH. 
 
 A CONVALESCENT VISITOR. 
 
 was now very indignant with the Manuel family, who had 
 neglected him. The son came once only, and he had 
 merely called at the door. Not that he desired his society ; for 
 he considered him a sort of "low," brusque, ill-mannered 
 foreigner, who, it was plain, had never been with gentlemen. 
 He (Fermor) could tell in a second whether he was " the real 
 thing ' or no. Clearly a fellow out of an orchestra. And this 
 notion, which seemed to him something in the style of M. About, 
 appeared a very happy illustration. " A low fellow out of an 
 orchestra! " There was only the one lady in the family and 
 the more he thought of that little night incident, the more soft 
 and agreeable it seemed. He thought of her as a "poor" 
 faithful little worshipper. She was very pretty, and he thought 
 that, as soon as he got well, how he should reward her. If he 
 had heard any one talk of " rewarding a girl " by a visit, he 
 would have called him a low, ungentlemanly creature , even if 
 he were talking aloud with no one present, he would not have 
 used such a form of words ; but still the idea, as a sort of motive 
 for his resolution, was present to him. 
 
 His health was mending rapidly. The fresh air of the place 
 was serviceable ; the improvement could be marked day by day 
 He had been down to his barracks; in a few days more he was 
 to resume duty. 
 
 He dressed himself with care, looked in the mirror over the 
 chimney-piece, and thought there was a refined "spiritual" tone 
 a gentle air of weakness which would contrast well with the 
 coarse robustness and gross health of some of his fellows Going 
 to a box of gloves, he chose out a pair faintly coloured too, as 
 with a blush so as to be in keeping. 
 
 It was about five o'clock in the evening, and he sauntered 
 straight to the house of the Manuels. The maid who had 
 thought him " lovely," and who, indeed, had dwelt on his image 
 very often since, broke into rustic blushes. " Oh, yes, sir, I am 
 sure they are in some of the ladies." 
 
 He went up before her, opened the drawing-room door him- 
 self, and entered. There was only one figure there, sitting on a 
 little low chair, and looking listlessly out of the window, with her 
 book half closed upon her knee. She did not even look round 
 as she heard the door open. 
 
A Convalescent Visitor* 73 
 
 She was pale. As Fermor did not speak, she looked round, 
 started to her feet with a sort of cry, half ran forward then 
 stopped, her face and neck bathed in glowing carmine. She 
 felt this rich colour dyeing her face, and put up both hands. 
 
 " Quite well ? " said Fermor, delighted with these signs of his 
 power. " This is the first day I have got out the very first 
 hour, I may say and yours is the first place I have found my 
 way to." 
 
 She stood quite irresolute. " Oh," she said, " I am so glad ! 
 You must have suffered so much." 
 
 " I suppose I shall get strong again/' said Fermor, " some of 
 these days. May I get myself a chair ? " 
 
 Her face assumed a scared look at once. " Oh, yes," she said, 
 " but I am afraid " 
 
 A shade came upon Fermor's fair forehead. 
 
 " Afraid ? I know," he said} " the regular objection. You 
 are quite right, of course, on the score of propriety. I under- 
 stand." 
 
 "Oh, no, no, no, no! " she said, with extraordinary eager- 
 ness, and clasping her hands together piteously. " Not that ' 
 no, indeed ! " 
 
 Fermor looked at her appealing eyes with admiration with 
 great satisfaction, too, in himself. "Bird fluttering in the fowler's 
 net, and fluttering so prettily," was the idea floating in his mind. 
 For curiosity and amusement he would make her flutter yet a 
 little more. "You want me to go," he said. " I intrude here. 
 And yet," said he, "for a sick man, tired by his first walk ex- 
 hausted, in fact to be turned out " 
 
 Again the little bird fluttered nervously to the window, flut- 
 tered back again, almost wrung her hands. Fermor began to be 
 astonished. 
 
 " Oh ! " she said, "it seems very odd and very cruel, but I 
 gave them a sort of promise. If you could come again later 5 
 indeed I could not help it ; but if they come back " 
 
 "1 see," said Fermor. "Upon my word, this is taking the 
 shape of a romance. What a pity to put all your family to such 
 trouble a solemn promise ! I assure you there was no need. 
 
 The shadow of a hint would have But how a mere call of 
 
 civility could cause any confusion or misapprehension, is, to me, 
 a perfect mystery. Pray assure your family that they may set 
 their minds at rest for the future." 
 
 This was more of the fowler and of the fowler's net. The 
 little bird looked at him wistfully, and seemed inclined to sob. 
 
74 Never Forgotten. 
 
 "What shall I do ? " she said. " 1 should not have tolcl you, 
 I don't know what you will think ! Oh, let me go, please, for 
 I am very unhappy ! " 
 
 She flew past him out of the room, he looking after her with 
 wonder, half pleased, half mortified. He should like to make 
 an effective stage exit, but there was no audience. His curiosity 
 was, besides, piqued almost to a vulgar degree and he was 
 (lying to learn more. He walked away, and came back unde- 
 cided 3 walked away again, and came. back. " Poor little soul," 
 he said, looking tranquilly at a Fermor that was in the glass, " it 
 is all very fresh and natural! " 
 
 He rang the bell suddenly, and presently came the maid who 
 had thought him "lovely." He spoke to her with exquisite 
 politeness. "Might I give you the trouble," he said, " to ask 
 Miss Violet Manuel if I could see her again for one moment ? " 
 
 The girl went away delighted with the mission. 
 
 Violet appeared again at the door in sad confusion. " Oh," 
 she said, "I have behaved so absurdly, so childishly, I am quite 
 ashamed. You won't think of it. Will it be too much to ask 
 you not to say that I have told you " 
 
 "A little secret?" said the fowler, smiling. "And to be 
 our secret ? With all my heart. But what is the meaning of 
 all this ? What are these mysterious promises and tyrant rela- 
 tions ? Or is it my poor head that is not yet recovered ? I think 
 it must be." 
 
 She was hanging down her poor head, and said over again she 
 had been so foolish and so ridiculous. 
 
 Fermor's voice became wonderfully soft. " ' Foolish and ridi- 
 culous!' No. I cannot think candour and perfect nature to 
 be foolish and ridiculous. Seriously, can I help you ? If you 
 were, indeed, to do me the honour of thinking me worthy of 
 being consulted, such poor advice as I am capable of would 
 be at your service. I have seen a little of the world have 
 been knocked about here, there, and everywhere. I ought 
 to know something. Do consult me, and I am sure I could 
 help you." 
 
 A melancholy sort of flageolet voice was the most effective of 
 all the instruments in Fermor's orchestra. He was playing on it 
 now, and with surprising effect. 
 
 "Oh, you are so kind, so good," she said, tearfully, "and I 
 don't know how to thank you. But they don't know, they 
 don't understand " 
 
 " They? W T ho ? " said Fermor. " You won't be angry if I 
 
A Convalescent Visitor. 7j 
 
 say something that is, if I suspect that there is a friend of yours 
 who does understand. You see, a sick man from his mere 
 helplessness hears something occasionally. Now, I know his 
 nature very well, having come in contact with ever so many 
 natures up and down the world. Well, your friend, Mr. Han- 
 bury, is an honest, good soul, that means well 5 and I seriously 
 tell you, if he does make a mistake, and is hurried out of his 
 regular course by a little honest roughness, I know enough of 
 human nature to see that iris only on the surface." 
 
 " Oh, it is not that ; but this place, as you know, is full ot 
 stories," said the girl, passionately j "but I don't like him 
 that is, like him as they mean," she added, dropping her eyes 
 in confusion 5 " and never can like him I never ! though I were 
 to die ! ' 
 
 " Never like him ! " said Fermor, looking round in astonish- 
 ment. "How singular! How surprising!" (Over and over 
 again, when he got home, did he rehearse this scene with delight 
 and complacency, the exquisite skill with which he had " played" 
 seeming to him above all other efforts of his life.) "Do tell me 
 
 about this, for really / should have thought but then I always 
 
 forget that I have been a sick man with a battered head, and, 
 what is worse, a defeated one, on an occasion when I would have 
 given I can't say what, to have gained a victory !" 
 
 Fermor was walking up and down the room as he spoke all 
 this very volubly, his coat fluttering back as he walked, like the 
 drapery of a robe. 
 
 " I should have come back to you, to your carriage, to be 
 crowned ; but it was no use struggling with destiny. Your 
 wishes, I know, were against me, like a strong gale. You had 
 your champion why not? To say the truth, I never do expect 
 to succeed in anything in life. I expect to be always near it 
 to want something just at the last moment. See the life I lead, 
 forced to associate with that herd a set of blocks good in their 
 own way, but foi a mind like mine that looks to better things, 
 scarcely companions. But I am a dreamer! Yes; and such 
 dreams! During my illness you cannot fancy what dreams I 
 had, and even visions especially one night here in this 
 house!" 
 
 He halted suddenly, and looked at her. Again the carmine 
 flood was gushing to the surface. 
 
 He was surprised at his own fluency. He went on, still 
 pacing: "You don't care to trust me, and yet, perhaps, I might 
 be found useful. Yet, I dare say, I could guess at the whole 
 
76 Never Forgotten. 
 
 state of things. I have an instinct for human affairs, a strange 
 instinct. I can read a situation like a book. I can read minds, 
 too. For instance, I can take the front of this house off and 
 look in. I know at. once who are my friends. In this house, 
 how many have I ? Possibly not one !" (This last sentence he 
 spoke in a low, half-melancholy tone.) " Possibly not one !" he 
 repeated. " But that is a mere personal view. What does it 
 matter ? The other day, if there had been a little rough stone 
 where I fell, why I should not be" talking to you here and 
 perhaps boring you now so terribly." 
 
 " No, no, no !" said the girl, casting down her eyes ; " indeed 
 no I could listen for that is, I like hearing all this " 
 
 "Then, as for you," continued he, glancing at the other 
 Fermor in the mirror, "I can understand it all. Relatives, 
 sisters, mothers, brothers, who have our interest at heart, and 
 think they understand it better than we do, hurrying us on 
 eagerly into some serious step all for our good," added he, 
 sarcastically. " But, Miss Manuel, I feel like an old friend to you, 
 and seriously for it would be affectation in me to say I do not 
 see that you have something on your mind seriously, if by 
 advice or assistance I can be of use, pray employ me." 
 
 She looked up at him with her full round eyes, now little, 
 glistening, and tearful. 
 
 "Oh!" she said, "Mr. Fermor, I don't know what to do. 
 They are so kind, and so good, and mean so well, and, as you 
 say, all for my interest." 
 
 "Exactly," said he, smiling. "Everything disagreeable is 
 for our interest." His intuitive knowledge of nature was sur- 
 prising to himself. 
 
 "And I am, I may say, alone in the house without support, 
 and I do fear I shall be hurried on into a step which " 
 
 Fermor went over, and sat down beside her on the sofa. He 
 was going to hear it all. It was growing dusk. " Tell me 
 about this, Miss Violet." At that moment the door was opened. 
 A joyous, noisy, hearty figure burst in. 
 
 "We have been waiting for hours," it said, in the gayest 
 key: adding, after a bewildering pause, "What! Fermor?" 
 
The View of a Man of the World. 77 
 
 CHAPTER THE SIXTEENTH. 
 
 THE VIEW OF A MAN OF THE WORLD. 
 
 "TI7HAT! Fermor?'' this he repeated after a second pause ; 
 the speaker's face halting the while between his habitual 
 laugh and doubting frown. Violet had moved a little apart on 
 the sofa ; but Fermor, who always looked on these little " situa- 
 tions " as so many openings for mental training, determined 
 that there should be no awkwardness. Why, indeed, should 
 there, be ? A man of the world was present. 
 
 " Glad to see you, Mr. Hanbury," he said. "The first 
 evening I have got out. And my first visit has been to the 
 charitable friends who took me in, after that stupid blundering 
 accident." 
 
 Hanbury was glowing all over, and looking excitedly from 
 one to the other of the two faces. But the last words of 
 Fermor recalled to him certain obligations, as indeed their 
 speaker had artfully intended they should, and checked some 
 unmeaning and perhaps wild speech he was about to make. 
 
 " They are waiting for you," he said to her bluntly and even 
 roughly, " down at the beach." 
 
 " I can't go to-night," she said, timorously; "I have a head- 
 ache. It is too late, and I don't care to walk." 
 
 But Fermor rose to go. " It is too late even for me. I laugh 
 at myself, but am obliged, in spite of myself, to be an invalid, 
 and take all manner of ridiculous precautions about my health. 
 Mr Hanbury and I can go part of the way together. Miss 
 Manuel and I have been improving each other. I have been 
 teaching her some of my morbid philosophy." 
 
 The two went out together, and so this rather extraordinary 
 interview ended. At the door, Hanbury stopped abruptly, and 
 in a gauche, almost rough tone, said, "I am not going your 
 way. I am very sorry, but have an appointment." 
 
 "Good gracious!" said Fermor, gaily; "keep it, by all 
 means. Don't think of it. I shall get home very well; not 
 quite an old man yet." 
 
 " Such a boor!" he thought to himself; "a true navvy!" 
 And he walked along, smiling to himself, and thinking almost 
 with delight of his " consummate acting" in the little piece of 
 that evening. " Charming little creature she is!*' he said, half 
 
y8 Never Forgotten. 
 
 aloud. "There is really something bewitching about her. If 
 that stupid lout had not come in, she would have told me every- 
 thing about herself. I knew what she was coming to." Then 
 he thought perhaps it was as well the lout had corne in, for 
 that confidence might have led on to " a business." "I be- 
 lieve I could wind her round my finger," thought Mr. Fermor, 
 as he entered his room. " Confiding little child ! " 
 
 These speculations entertained him a great part of the even- 
 ing. As usual, he got out his little theatre, lit up his castle in 
 Spain, and put himself down walking among the grounds with 
 the little Spanish girl upon his arm. Good old family, he dared 
 to say. After all, a man must settle down some time or other. 
 Then changing the scene to an inner room in the castle in 
 Spain, he saw himself as lecturer, preacher, teacher, moulding 
 this soft mind to his own pattern a delightful occupation. So 
 he worked the idea through a whole little play, and then 
 thinking of the earthly creatures down at the barracks, whose 
 ideas were centred in a pipe contrasted his own intellectual 
 day's labour with theirs, and thought of going to bed. 
 
 They came to tell him there was a gentleman below who 
 wished to see him Mr. Hanbury. Fermor did not relish this 
 visit. "Really, at this hour," he said. "Come, I suppose, re- 
 pentant. These boors are always as ready to humble themselves, 
 as to offend. Show him up." 
 
 Hanbury walked in heavily stalked is the word but had 
 scarcely the bearing of a penitent. 
 
 " I am sorry," he said, " to come in on you at such an hour, 
 but the fact is, I could not have slept without seeing you. A 
 great deal has happened since I left you this evening, and " 
 
 Fermor, though he had shut his theatre for the' night, threw 
 open the doors again with alacrity. The excited " lout " would 
 afford him a little after-piece before going to bed. 
 
 " Sit down, do," he said. "The hour is a little unusual, and 
 I will ask you not to stay very long an invalid, you know. 
 Well, about this horse, eh ? You are coming to that ? " 
 
 Hanbury sat down mechanically, and looked at him. " Horse ? 
 no!" he said, impatiently. "You know what I mean, and 
 what I am going to say; you know you do. What is the use of 
 this affectation of carelessness ? I am tired of it j I want to 
 speak very seriously." 
 
 "As seriously as you please," said Fermor, "but, I hope, 
 with quietness. Excuse me saying so. Indeed, if I did not 
 know that you are one of those honest, sincere natures that 
 
Tke Flew of a Man of the World. 79 
 
 must say out what they think, I assure you I should/* and he 
 paused for a little and smiled, " I should ring for a candle and 
 go to bed." 
 
 " Not until you have listened to me," said the other, stand- 
 ing up excitedly. " We were very happy till you came, and 
 she liked me and it it was all settled almost. And new 
 it is all changed, and I am convinced you have something to do 
 with it. You know in your conscience you have, Fermor ! " 
 
 " What logic ! " said Fermor, smiling almost contemptu- 
 ously. " Here is a person with whom I have but the pleasure 
 of a very slight acquaintance, but whom I may come to know 
 better, come bursting in on me at scarcely a visiting hour, pours 
 out a torrent of words about a young lady being changed, and 
 says I knowjt, and can't deny it ! What is it, pray ? What 
 if I do know, and don't deny it ? All this is what I must call 
 very childish. Now do, as a favour, sit down again and tell me 
 what it is you want, or what you complain of 5 and let us talk 
 rationally." 
 
 H anbury, very much sobered by this speech, did sit down, 
 awkwardly, after a second's hesitation. 
 
 " Listen to me," said Fermor, " for I will reason with you 
 as we have got so far in the matter, we may as well finish with 
 it to-night. A lady you admire has suddenly changed towards 
 you. Very well. Now, what have 1 to do with that? " 
 
 " Exactly ! " said Hanbury, starting up. " Now we are 
 coming to the point. It is very hard. It was all settled. And 
 
 we were so happy, and and Why did you do it? I never 
 
 injured you," he added, piteously. 
 
 " Not intentionally," said Fermor, smiling. A clever allusion 
 to the race day. "But, still reasoning with you (for to another 
 man I would say at once, ( Sir, you have no business to bring 
 me to account'), I ask you again, what have I to do with it, 
 having been shut up here for three weeks? Do you suppose, 
 because a young girl, who has seen about as little of the world 
 as a nun, grows a little cold, that yon are to go about from house 
 to house ventilating your grief? Really, I must say, for the 
 lady's sake, it is scarcely " 
 
 Hanbury, who felt like a great fish in a great net, feeling his 
 helplessness, and, perhaps, some truth in what had been said to 
 him, now struck out wildly, as it were. "I cant talk with you, 
 Mr. Fermor," he said 5 " I have no gifts that way. But this 
 must be settled one way to-night. I want to know what you 
 mean to do." 
 
8o Never Forgotten. 
 
 "To save time," said Fermor, "and supposing that I do 
 catch your meaning, what would you have me do 5 " 
 
 " Give her up not see her not speak to her yes, to speak 
 plainly, give her up. I know you are superior in many ways. 
 You have been in the world, and know how to manage these 
 things. Can't you find some of the fine court ladies? they are 
 more suited to you. Do, do, Fermor, and leave me her." 
 
 " I see it is hopeless," said Fermor. "In fact, it is so very 
 delicate a subject to discuss, and if I were to speak freely on the 
 matter, it would not be respectful to our common friends. If 
 you mean by ' giving up * to cut off visits, or make any ridicu- 
 lous marked expose of the kind, I decline to do so at once. It is 
 much better to be candid, you know, I can't afford to get into 
 an absurd position for anybody." 
 
 Hanbury looked at him hopelessly and helplessly, 
 
 " If I might suggest anything," continued Fermor, "I should 
 say the proper manly course would be to exert yourseli, and go 
 in regularly and win back your position. You know the old 
 saying about women having to be won, and the faint heart, and 
 that sort of thing." 
 
 ."I see," said Hanbury. "I understand at last. But don't 
 be too confident, Mr. Fermor. I know I am rough, and can't 
 show off in a drawing-room ; but still I believe that honesty and 
 manliness will always have some sort of weight of their own. 
 We shall see how it will turn out. I will take your good advice, 
 though I believe it was not meant to be taken/ 
 
 " Well, you are quite a privileged being here \ " said 
 Fermor. 
 
 "I won't detain you longer," said Hanbury; "but I see my 
 way. I may know little of women, but I should scorn to find 
 my amusement, or feed my vanity in what they call ' conquest.' 
 I should prefer trying to save them from such a cruel fate." 
 
 "With all my heart," said Fermor, rising and taking the 
 candle ; "a very proper role, which I quite envy you. But let 
 me tell you it requires some gifts something more than the 
 .mere will. You may break down." 
 
 "Never! " said Hanbury, turning to go. 
 "We shall see," said Fermor. "Well, we have agreed on 
 something. And now will you let me ask a favour ? only one 
 which is, not to let us have any childish pettishness before 
 other people. It is so absurd. 'Let dogs delight,' you know, 
 but not men of the world, grown up like you and me. There, 
 good night.*' 
 
Discovery of a " True Gentleman. 8; 
 
 "Upon my word," he said, as he lay his head on his pillo\p 
 that night, "this is getting more and more exciting every 
 minute. It is like a play, This place is really rising in rny 
 opinion. I shall have 3 little excitement here presently. I am 
 almost sorry I gave him that bit of advice, Poor soul 1 J shall 
 beat him easily." 
 
 CHAPTER THE SEVENTEENTH 
 
 DISCOVERY OF /I "TRUE GENTLEMAN/' 
 
 TpERMOR'S days went by tediously enough, solaced, indeed 
 by but little company and the "potted meats " of Mudie, 
 with which he was victualled steadily. In what was to be seen, 
 however, from his back window he began to take a growing 
 interest, Every day there was the same little scene, which he 
 watched, himself unseen, the chair brought out, the cushions, 
 the invalid daughter, with a face that would have been charnv 
 ing to look on if only lit up with the colours of health, and the 
 grim, rigid father, trying to bend his stern economy into the 
 gentle offices of nurse. On him Fermor looked with repug- 
 nance. With this salvo a sort of apology made to his nicer 
 feelings be began to find an interest that increased day by day 
 in these figures for to him they were no more. He would 
 have given a great deal to "find out something" about them. 
 But he could not bring himself down to the familiarity of 
 questioning his man, though he knew that his "man" enjoyed 
 the friendship of the "woman" next door. 
 
 On the evening before he went out of hospital, as it were, a 
 letter was brought up, in a stiff, broken hand, that looked like a 
 bit of iron paling. "A bill," said Fermor. "How they do 
 persecute one ! *' He opened it, and read with some surprise : 
 
 " SIR, I called on you lately about a dog which kept my 
 daughter awake a good part of the night. When I waited on 
 you, I assumed, both from your appearance (excuse my saying 
 so), as well as from the way in which I have always found such 
 remonstrances are received by men, that the mere fact of 
 requiring the dog to be removed would offend your pride, and 
 that YOU would therefore meet me with a hostile and impracti- 
 
 G 
 
8 2 Never Forgotten. 
 
 cable tone. I thought, then, the best way would be to antici- 
 pate, and prevent by a sort of firmness, any such reception. 
 
 "The thing was too serious to be trifled with. I have but 
 one daughter in tbe world, who, after a life of roughness and 
 trouble that I long wished to be rid of, has become a life t:> me 
 that I care for. We had thought her in a decline -, but thift 
 place has been the first where she has shown any signs of mend- 
 ing. Naturally I felt anxious, and spoke more strongly than, 
 perhaps, was necessary. I see I made a mistake, and that I was 
 speaking to a true gentleman. I have never apologised to any 
 man, and never shall to any man, but, at my daughter's request, 
 J beg to thank you, which I omitted to do, for your so kindly 
 anticipating our wishes. 
 
 ? C I am, Sir, yours, 
 
 " JOHN CARLAY.*' 
 
 Though there was an unpleasant taste about this paper, still 
 Fermor was pleased with it. He turned it over and over. 
 "An original," he said. " I said so from the first'* this was 
 scarcely true- " and yet there is decidedly something of the 
 gentleman about him" (which, perhaps, lay in that recognition 
 of the gentleman in him). "Very odd," he went on, and 
 thought how curiously true blood thus always impressed every- 
 body. He went to his little writing-case, and, on delicate paper, 
 decorated at the top with two letters, he wrote a coldly polite 
 acknowledgment : 
 
 " Captain Fermor begs to acknowledge/' &c. 
 
 Then he recollected that the )ther had written to him in the 
 first person 5 "an ill-bred thing," no doubt, but still, it would 
 look like " ungentlemanly " insolence to freeze him up with an 
 answer in the third. "Now," said he, tearing it up, "that is 
 just what Forsyth, or Showers, or Cadby, or any of those fellows 
 down there would do." 
 
 He knew better, and began again $ 
 
Discovery of i, " True Gentleman.** 
 
 ir SJB..--I beg to acknowledge the receipt of your letter. I 
 am very happy to find that the misapprehension under which 
 you laboured has been removed. I fancy you will always find 
 that a true gentleman will be ready to anticipate any request, so 
 reasonable as the one you made, especially when a lady's health 
 or wishes are concerned. 
 
 " I am, Sir, yours truly, 
 
 "CHARLES FERMOR." 
 
 In his present condition of monotony, this little incident waa 
 something to think over with interest. He read again his 
 answer to the " day-labourer's " production, and thought nothing 
 could be more nicely turned. It was all sleight of hand, and he 
 looked down at his pale woman-like fingers, and thought how it 
 was that good breeding and gentility helped them to wield that- 
 social rapier the pen. 
 
 A couple of days later, when Fermor was quite given back to 
 the world (only he had been recommended to stay in his lodgings 
 on account of the " good air"), he met Major Carter on the 
 road, leaning, more for affection's sake than support, on his son's 
 arm. No one ever saw Major Carter's wife leaning on Major 
 Carter's arm. But then she was in such "wretched health." 
 " So glad to see you," said Major Carter, with his airiest smile 
 of encouragement. " You are looking much better, but not quite 
 restored as yet, I can see. Delicate about here," said the major, 
 put his hand on his own face. " No wonder, I declare. And 
 how are you now? " 
 
 "You never came to see me,'* said Fermor. "I assure you I 
 should have been glad to have seen you. I had no one to tell 
 me the news of the place or anything." 
 
 Not in the least affected by this candid confession of motives, 
 Major Carter replied hastily, "Very good of you. Shall I tell 
 the reason ? Somerset here knows it as well as I. I said it to 
 him only yesterday at breakfast. Fact was, I knew you would 
 be worried with visits, perhaps with having to talk when you 
 were not in the humour, or having to listen when you were 
 dying to be rid of us. Indeed, I passed the other night, and saw 
 that man that has the horse Crawfurd, or Hanbury, whatever 
 
84 Never Forgotten, 
 
 Ms name is coming oat. After that, I felt it would scarcely 
 fc.ave been fair. 5 ' 
 
 Fermor smiled. There was a good deal of the gentleman 
 bout this major, after all. 
 
 "By the way," said the latter, "I knew it would be no use 
 asking you yet if I did not mention it, it would look naturally 
 very strange but we are having some friends coming to us to- 
 morrow night, in the French way." 
 
 Fermor began to contract sensitively. Here was this man 
 trying to fasten an intimacy on him. "I rarely go to parties ; 
 never, in fact," he said, coldly. 
 
 <f So I said to Somerset this morning. In one sense it is 
 scarcely worth asking you. It was for the Prices old friends of 
 yours the Prices of Bletchley." 
 
 " What! are they here? " said Fermor. 
 
 "Yes, they came when you were sick. Sir Charles Longman, 
 the two Campbells, the Manuels, Mr. Butler our new clergyman, 
 and a few more." 
 
 "If I can manage it," said Fermor, in a ruminating sort of 
 way, " I'll try. You see, I must take care of myself now." 
 
 "To be sure," said the major. "We'll leave it in that way. 
 I'm ashamed to ask a Town man to such a thing, and yet I 
 suspect those manufacturing people, the Slacks, who are giving 
 their sumptuous ball next week a blaze of vulgar splendour 
 will not get you to go to them. Tell me if I have guessed 
 right ? I know I am only the merest acquaintance of yours, 
 scarcely that, indeed 3 but J am sure I have judged you 
 right." 
 
 Fermor smiled, a little pleased at this compliment. 
 "Finery," he said, "is scarcely my line. Give me ladies and 
 gentlemen, and let them give their parties in a barn, if they 
 like." 
 
 " Capital ! very good, very good indeed ! " said the major. 
 "Ah, Somerset! Somerset!" he continued, sadly, shaking his 
 head : which, though a little vague, somehow did convey to 
 Fermor that there had been a design of taking him for a model, 
 but that it was now plainly hopeless to imitate him. 
 
 "An odd thing, too, you will say," the major went on. " J 
 have asked that strange man next door to you, the stiff, gaunt 
 man Carlay." 
 
 "A sad bear," said Fermor, thinking of his own experience of 
 him. "Yet a something I don't know how, but really there 
 is something of the gentleman about him." 
 
Discovery of a " True Gentleman" 8y 
 
 r * How singular ! " said the major, with admiration. f( Soiiler- 
 set, what was our conversation this morning ? I confess lam 
 ashamed of myself. My first judgment was that he was no gen- 
 tleman. He wanted the air, you understand. I said so to 
 Somerset. But since, I have heard all about him. A most 
 singular history. A good Scotch family gone astray, and all that 
 sort of thing. It is very odd. Do you know, Captain Fermor, 
 I envy you that instinct of yours." 
 
 " Yes," said Fermor, with quiet superiority ; "I think I am 
 pretty well up in that sort of thing. I can't be taken in easily. 1 ' 
 
 As he went home, Fermor owned to himself that that Carter 
 was a well-bred sort of person, and, it was easy to see, had mixed 
 in superior circles. He was half inclined to "look in" at his 
 little party. 
 
 Sauntering on, he began to think with tranquil pleasure on 
 what he, without affectation, considered his "conquest," and the 
 dramatic scene he had passed through. Marriage was not to be 
 thought of. "Though, I suppose, one of these days ! " that is 
 to say, one of these days the nuptial Juggernaut would demand 
 its victim. He thought he would go and see them again, and 
 have a petite verre of dramatic excitement. He wanted a fillip. 
 He looked at himself. The canvas would do. " Poor, poor 
 Hanbury," he said, smiling, "how he struggled and f flopped .'' 
 when he felt my harpoon in him ! " 
 
 He was coming down one of the little streets of the town,, 
 when there crossed it at right angles, about a couple of hundred" 
 yards away, that very "poor, poor Hanbury," walking with that 
 very Miss Violet Manuel of whom he had been thinking. They 
 did not see him, and passed out of view in a moment. But he 
 recognised at once a sort of check shooting-coat, which had often* 
 offended him on the score of its being in execrable taste y. and 
 Hanbury's companion not from dress, but from an instinct hard 
 to describe he knew at once. He stopped impatiently, turned 
 back, then turned again, as if he were ashamed of himself for 
 what looked like a mortification. Curious to say, in the midst of 
 all that confusion of anger, disgust, contempt, and disappoint- 
 ment, which seemed to choke him disagreeably, like a cloud of 
 dust, he felt a sudden sharp stroke of pain, not coming from his 
 recent illness or suffering, but of a kind that surprised him. It 
 was not known to physicians or surgeons. 
 
 For the rest of the day he was moody, and bitter, and pettish, 
 and felt a curious restlessness, which prevented him settling down 
 to Mr, Mudie, or, indeed, to anything serious. 
 
86 Never Forgotten. 
 
 CHAPTER THE EIGHTEENTH. 
 
 ROGER LE GARON. 
 
 QAPTAIN FERMOR often said pleasantly that he was "a 
 social Van Amburgh," and that with his steel whip he 
 could tame any savage human lion. Pleased with himself for 
 his handling of the next-door wild animal, he very soon began 
 to regard the wild animal itself with complacency. It was like 
 a tonic, he thought. And in this train of thought it occurred to 
 him that it would be a "gentlemanly " thing for Van Amburgh 
 to go in and call on the wild animal he had so happily tamed. 
 
 He knocked. A grim woman, like a Swiss toy, said that her 
 master was out out in the garden ; which was, perhaps, as 
 good as out. Let him "leave his business," whatever that 
 might be. Fermor, growing highly sensitive, and selecting a 
 card, was nervously making protest against the idea of his being 
 supposed to have business, or of being eager to secure his way. 
 "Not at all! Pray don't I have not the least wish in the 
 world just give that, if you please," when there appeared at 
 the end of the hall the tall, grim, cast-iron figure of Mr. Carlay, 
 with a grey hat on, that looked like a steel helmet, and leaning 
 on a stick that might have been an iron rod. 
 
 " Captain Fermor," he said, without advancing to meet him, 
 " do you wish me to do anything for you ? It is quite useless 
 asking me. I know nobody, and nobody knows me, either in 
 this place or anywhere else." 
 
 " Excuse me/' said Fermor, hastily, "you quite misunderstand. 
 You need be under no apprehensions. Merely the common 
 every-day form of leaving a card." 
 
 " A card > " said the other, taking it from the maid, and look- 
 ing at it as if it were a curiosity. "Ah! I am outside all 
 this sort of thing. One of the forms, as you say." 
 
 Not relishing the way in which his well-meant condescension 
 was being accepted, Fermor said, "1 am really sorry to have in- 
 truded on you. In fact, I almost a mistake indeed. So you 
 will excuse me." 
 
 He bowed and was going, when the grim voice said shortly, 
 "Wait. Would you care to come into the garden a moment?" 
 
 "I don't understand," said Fermor, hesitating. "I don't 
 understand that sort of thing much, that is. No. Thanks." 
 
 " I should not care to show you what I don't care for myself. 
 I want to show you what I do care for my daughter." 
 
Roger Le Gargon. 87 
 
 Former shrugged his shoulders as though he said, " I object 
 to the whole business, but as there is a lady in the case 
 lead on ! " 
 
 The girl was sitting, as usual, in the sun, on a cushioned chair, 
 and her head rested languidly on a soft pillow. Her eyes were 
 fixed vacantly on one point. 
 
 "Here," said Mr. Carlay, stalking down upon her with the 
 steady swing of a pendulum, "here is Mr. Fermor, the gentle- 
 man who sent the dog away." 
 
 The girl raised her head in some confusion, for she thought 
 that it was only her father returning on his old grim beat. 
 
 Fermor, himself again in the presence of a lady, thought he 
 would "reassure" her. He was sorry to see she had been suf- 
 fering. He was sure the air was good, at least he had found it 
 so. His, indeed, was only a trifling accident a mere scratch $ 
 people had, however, insisted that it was dangerous. 
 
 Fermor used often pleasantly to divide humanity into tongue* 
 without ears, and into ears without tongues. The convalescent 
 girl was of this latter class. H might, too, have classed her 
 as a " devotional ear." In a very few moments he had set 
 his fluency stop on, and the " Moi " the TO eyw was whirring 
 round. 
 
 " Now take me," he said, " for instance. I think I may say I 
 am independent of the usual associations. Someway I have 
 trained myself to it. Other men talk of being bored, and that 
 sort of thing. I can hardly follow them. I confess I have 
 trained myself systematically. I don't allow myself to be bored. 
 / don't make any boast of it," &c. &c. 
 
 And in this way he aired the TO cyw up and down in a gentle 
 canter, and opened to her the secrets of his personal psychology. 
 She listened at first a little astonished then not quite following 
 him finally interested. It was all new to her, who had been 
 accustomed to the grim, gritty, diapason of her sire. She was a 
 soft, amiable girl, all gentleness, made for petting, and to have 
 her hair smoothed through the day by fond hands. Seeing he 
 had touched the proper key, Fermor put spurs to the ro eyw, and 
 made it caracole with fire. 
 
 The grim Carlay, meanwhile, was walking far away up and 
 down on a beat. He took no account of them, and was no 
 doubt working the cast-iron machinery he called his thoughts. 
 After what Fermor called a " conversation," but which, strictly, 
 was a monologue, he went away. 
 
 "Poor invalid," he thought, "what a life she must have!" 
 
88 Never Forgotten. 
 
 And if his conversation had much the same virtue as a king's 
 touch was believed to have, it would surely be churlish not to 
 apply it. 
 
 Between the two gardens there was only a low wall. Taking 
 his cigar in the morningwhich he did about as regularly as 
 he did his roll and coffee he could see the "pc<lr invalid'* 
 already disposed on her cushions ; and, leaning on tho wall, he 
 wished her good morning, and asked how she did. He was 
 going to " touch" again, as the kings used to do. His eye 
 noted a little change a red bow on her neck, and an ornament 
 or two. 
 
 Fermor was "refined looking," and though only visible as a 
 sort of Elgin marble, by reason of the wall, made a very effective 
 torso. He travelled through a couple of cigars before he had 
 finished his monologue. Then he thought, with his skilful 
 powers, he would examine this " child " on her history, about 
 which he was a little curious, which made her talk, and the sim- 
 plicity of her narrative amused him. Then he tried her on 
 reading, she saying that she read a good deal. Did she read 
 French? Indeed! Had she ever read a thing of Roger le 
 Gar9on, called " La Rose en Evidence? " No ? Then would she 
 let him send it in to her ? 
 
 " Common people," said Fermor, " taking up that book, would 
 say it was a common thing. Of course they would. / found it 
 out. Mind, I don't want you to take my view. You must, of 
 course, judge for yourself. I only say this, that if you want phi- 
 losophy, sense, wit, and human nature, you have it there. Above 
 all," said Fermor, becoming deeply grave, "it is fit for any 
 lady's perusal any lady's. I am always mostcareful, I assure you." 
 
 In the evening arrived Roger le Garcon, in paper swaddling- 
 clothes, and sealed with pink sealing-wax. Roger le Gargon had 
 not made his fame as yet, nor did he quite enjoy the esteem on 
 railway stall or bookseller's shelf, which Fermor awarded him. 
 Some day no doubt, it would come. There was a picture or 
 two, by an artist of the name of Calkinwood, who had been 
 much neglected by the public, and a song or two by an undis- 
 covered composer, in which he discovered beauties corresponding 
 to those of Roger le Gargon -, and thus literature, music, and 
 painting, were embodied in Calkinwood, Roger le Garpon, and 
 the undiscovered composer. But the little pale green Roger 
 had gone on many visits to ladies' houses, and had almost 
 travelled round the country like the Kensington Loan Col- 
 lection. 
 
Captain Thersites. 89 
 
 It was the calumet, or pipe of peace, of all Fermor' s inti- 
 macies. This was but the first step ; then there was to follow 
 a little series of lectures and illustrations of the beauties of 
 Roger le Gar9on. 
 
 CHAPTER THE NINETEENTH. 
 
 CAPTAIN THERSITES. 
 
 o 
 
 N the evening of Major Carter's little party, Fermor was 
 dining with his fellows at mess. He had not spoken of it 
 to them, but was surprised to find them all talking of it eagerly 
 and vociferously. He was a little disgusted and inclined to re- 
 voke the " gentlemanly " patent he had so hastily issued. But 
 it would have brought discredit on his powers of judgment. 
 
 All, however, had not been asked. The major had exercised 
 a nice selection, pulling them like flowers, by the aid of his 
 Landed Gentry, and, with his wonderful discrimination, had 
 asked half a dozen of the very choicest men of the corps. 
 
 That very day Showers, who was always playing Thersites in 
 respect of Fermor, came home from leave. Fermor shivered as 
 he saw him sitting opposite. And yet this very Captain Showers 
 was liked by the other men. He had a loud, strong voice, with 
 a fat face and large mouth, on which he produced laughs by 
 very much the action of a forge bellows. He was always telling 
 "good things" and "good stories." The stray one or two who 
 had heard as in a dream the names of Hood or Hook, and 
 the single one who had met a joke of Sydney Smith in the stray 
 serious book he had taken up in a dentist's parlour, placed him 
 far above those humorists. 
 
 "Well, Fermor," said Thersites, turning suddenly on him, 
 " what made you go and break the horse's back ? What had he 
 done to you? " 
 
 " I broke no horse's back," said Fermor, with quiet dignity. 
 (It was odd, he believed even to the end that there was a magic 
 power in this manner of his that could awe the profane.) " If 
 you had taken the trouble to pick up the details, you would 
 have heard a different story." And pleased with this retort he 
 turned to his evening paper again, and began to read. 
 
 Captain Thersites, not in the least disturbed, began again. 
 
 " And I am told, I say, Fermor I am told you got into a 
 
9 Never Forgotten. 
 
 house among a lot of fine girls best bedroom, and all thai-- 
 sisters on the stairs with the gruels and codlings mamma 
 settling the pillow. I don't believe a word of it. You're too 
 proper a man." 
 
 A chorus of boys sitting taking in more drink and smoke than 
 was good for their age, broke in with delight, " Oh, Showers, 
 who told you that? " 
 
 Fermor, brought up to believe that truth was the most gen- 
 tlemanly of a gentleman's virtues, said, coldly and seriously, " If 
 you are alluding to the family who so kindly took care of me 
 when I was ill, I must request as a favour," added Fermor, 
 leaning ironically on the word, " that the subject will not be 
 pursued." He had cast this bolt in his best manner, as it ap- 
 peared to him. 
 
 The other, however, was not to be disposed of so easily. " I 
 see," he said; "private grounds. Visitors are requested not to 
 walk on the grass ; eh, Fermor ? How smart we are ? Come, 
 did they teach you? Four lessons a guinea ? How many days 
 were you in class ? Which of them gave lessons, eh ? " 
 
 This was received with loud laughter. Fermor, getting 
 redder, still looked round from one to the other with a curling 
 
 HP. 
 
 " A most original joke/' he said, with an attempt at bitterness. 
 
 You are improving every day." 
 
 " Oh, I only repeat what was told me, and what is reported in 
 the town," 
 
 "And what do they report in the town? Pray go on," said 
 
 olish Fermor. " Oh, pray go on." 
 
 "Well," said the other, " as you ask me, I will. You then 
 did your best to cut out another fellow that heavy-built man 
 with the large horse. And when you thought you had all safe, 
 they suddenly and coolly turned you out. So I think, my dear 
 fellow, to be taking up such people who have behaved in this 
 way, is being rather too good-natured. I only tell you this for 
 your own good, you know." % 
 
 The delight of the audience at this point knew no bounds. A 
 low-born, ungentlemanly set he would give the world to mortify 
 them, and put them down. 
 
 " Before the man with the large horse our poor friend had 
 to beat a retreat. Of course he couldn't beat the large man 
 and his large horse. A good fortune, I am told. Oh, these 
 women, Fermor, these women ! I hope it will be a lesson 
 to you." 
 
Major Carters "Little Party." 91 
 
 Fermor could scarcely contain himself. If he put up with 
 this much more it would become a standing tyranny. " What 
 wise people you all are," he said. " From beginning to end there's 
 not a grain of truth in it." 
 
 "Don't be sure of that," said the other, sharply. "They all 
 heard the same, too. At any rate, that marriage is settled, and 
 Twigg here saw the pair walking about the town together. So, 
 my dear friend," he added, rising, " dry your eyes, for your pipe 
 is completely put out." 
 
 Again came forth the roar at Fermor's expense, making his 
 ears tingle. " You are going to this party to-night ?" he said. 
 
 "Well ! " said the other, looking round from the door, "sup- 
 pose I am? " 
 
 "Well," said Fermor, "I am going too 5 and we shall see 
 whether, to use your forcible language, my pipe is put out as 
 you say. I shall leave it to all here. We shall see." 
 
 He went to his room chafing. " It is growing unbearable, ' 
 he said. " No wonder the Service is becoming what it is when 
 such low creatures are let into it. No matter, I shall have them 
 all at my feet yet. I hope they will all go to-night." He then 
 proceeded to decorate himself with his best care and finish, de- 
 termining, for that night at least, to produce an artistic work. 
 The delicate "spiritual" toning of his face would be a new 
 effect under wax-light. By eleven the scaffolding was down, and 
 the figure stood out perfectly finished. He was pleased. As he 
 looked in the glass, something about "a head of Ary Scheffer" 
 occurred to him. 
 
 CHAPTER THE TWENTIETH. 
 MAJOR CARTER'S "LITTLE PARTY." 
 
 [AJOR CARTER'S rooms were of a very modest order. 
 They were not very large, not very high, not very long, 
 and not very broad. This was known to most people, but it was 
 not so well known that he got them very cheap. 
 
 The little chambers, for they were not called "lodgings," 
 which was a mean description, were now blazing with light. 
 They were gay and tasteful, and excellent in every point but 
 room, and, though a sort of polite famine reigned, the major 
 was unaccountably profuse in light. " Light your rooms, light 
 
92 Never Forgotten. 
 
 your rooms/* he used to say, in his pleasant way, Wax he con* 
 sidered the true basis of society. It supplied furniture, gilding, 
 jewels, meat, drink, and clothes that is, supper, champagne, 
 and dress. 
 
 While Captain Fermor dressed, there was a scene of another 
 kind going on not very far away from him, in the house of the 
 Manuels. Mr. Hanbury had been there that evening, but had 
 only seen the eldest Miss Manuel. Her sister was lying down 
 with a headache. Latterly his boisterous tone had been quite 
 tempered down. He had come in very often, and had sat in a 
 moody unsettled way, talkative and silent by spasms. Of this 
 night he had abruptly asked were they sure they were going to 
 Mr. Carter's, quite sure ? He was told they were sure. Then, 
 in the same disappointed way, he answered that he would go 
 too, as it would be most likely the last party he would be at 
 there. He was tired of the place and of its monotony, and 
 had made up his mind to go away in a day or two. " I am a 
 sort of wandering man," he said, " and half an hour gets me 
 ready for the road. The horses Bates will look after." He 
 amplified this text a good deal, then returned to his inquiry if 
 they were sure all of them to be there that night ? " I should 
 like to go to Australia," he said. " That would be the place forme. 
 The woods and prairies, hunting and fishing. I believe those 
 are the only things I can understand. As for the world and 
 society, I begin to find I am a mere child. I mistake things, the 
 commonest things. I have too plain and matter-of-fact a mind 
 for the world. I believe in my senses, and take words and 
 speeches to be what they mean ; and so," added John Hanbury, 
 with a rueful smile, "it is better that I should be off to the 
 backwoods and sheep-walks, unless," he added, "something 
 turns up to stop me." Pauline, greatly distressed, soothed him. 
 " Wait until to-night is over/' she said, significantly. Hope 
 came back again into his face. 
 
 An hour later, Pauline Manuel was with her sister as she 
 dressed. It was nearly eleven o'clock, and they were late. It 
 was a curious mixture of vehement expostulation and adornment. 
 The younger girl, with her hair down upon her shoulders, was 
 excited, timorous, and a little defiant by turns. Her sister had 
 influence with her, and on this night spoke warmly and almost 
 passionately. She walked up and down, vehemently pleading 
 for the cause she had at heart, with quick gestures and kindling 
 eye. She told her that it was only a cruel nature that would 
 make a plaything of a brave and honest man's heart a point of 
 
Major Carter's " Little Party." -3 
 
 view that rather scared the gentle girl, whose cheeks kindled in a 
 sort of piteous protest. But at half-past eleven, when the elder 
 came down to the drawing-room, she spoke softly to her brother 
 with a sort of satisfaction a communication, too, that was 
 received with moody satisfaction, as though it was likely that all 
 would be well before the night was over. "The other," said 
 the brother, thinking of Fermor, "will not be well enough to 
 go out at night." 
 
 It looked a pretty little party. Careful selection had been 
 made, and but few had been allowed to pass the wicket. " I 
 might have had the whole of our little city," was a speech the 
 host made many times that night, in many quarters, and to many 
 persons. " Indeed, you cannot conceive the pressure that was 
 put on me to get to our poor little party. It is astonishing the 
 lengths people will go. But we made up our minds, Mrs. 
 Carter and myself," &c. Mrs. Carter and himself! Poor 
 quiet soul she had no mind to make up, nor, if she had, would 
 she be allowed to make it up. He was part of the lighting 
 himself, and his clear, clean face flashed out in all 'quarters of 
 the room. There was Mrs. Carter, so quiet, so silent and timo- 
 rous, swept along in the breezes of her husband's conversation. 
 
 Fermor arrived very late, and in a sort of agitation. He felt 
 there was something for him to go through that night, though 
 he did not know what. Looking in a little glass below, where 
 his hat was taken by an admiring maid, he thought his face 
 had all the delicacy of Sevres. The stairs were narrow, and the 
 house offended with the strong fresh savour of new paint and 
 varnish. He was relieved when he saw the blaze of light in the 
 little rooms then his name was sung according to the due 
 ritual, and Major Carter, at the other end of the room "going 
 about," came down on him affectionately. It was so good of 
 him to look in, to come in this sort of way. He was ashamed 
 to put people in " a little cabin " of this kind. " I know," 
 continued the major, "you will have your pencil out, jotting 
 
 down notes for a friend or two Come ! you see, I have* 
 
 heard. Do let me off this time." 
 
 Fermor smiled. 
 
 "Introduce you to anybody?" said the major, doubtfully; 
 then answering himself, after consulting Fermor's face, which 
 had answered him : " No, no ! scarcely. I know better than 
 that." 
 
 "Thanks, thanks," said Fermor, moving away. "I think I 
 see a few that I know. J shall get on very well Thanks." 
 
94 Never Forgotten. 
 
 The major had again hoisted his mainsail, and was away, 
 making the opposite corner. Close beside Fermor was a sort of 
 little gipsy encampment, the gipsies of which (though they did 
 not wear red cloaks, and had no fire or kettle) were two pretty 
 girls, whom Fermor knew to be Miss Campbells Jessie and 
 Fanny. Fermor had often studied, and sarcastically described, 
 their devotion to the Service. They knew every soldier there 
 dealt with them with an air of proprietorship gave them orders. . 
 Wherever there was a "Campbell girl," there was a picket of 
 military. If there were a party in a house, and a sheltered 
 nook on the stairs of that house, the curious explorer would 
 awkwardly stumble en a "Campbell girl" concealed behind a 
 curtain. These are, indeed, only Captain Fermor's observations^ 
 who made them a study as he would natural history, and was 
 often sarcastic on it. 
 
 Fermor looking round the whole company, at one end saw 
 two bright faces, rich in fulness and colour, which were as 
 effective as a good many of Major Carter's wax-lights. He saw 
 their brother standing up beside them, looking towards him 
 sourly a:id distrustfully, while on the other side was bending 
 down a ilgure whom his instinct told him was Hanbury. When 
 the latter lifted himself from his bent position, and the light 
 from some of Major Carter's wax-lights fell upon his face, Fer- 
 mor saw that it was radiant and blazing, with what, in a 
 moment of pique, he would have called "oafish good humour" 
 and happiness. Some of this light was reflected on to the two 
 girls' faces. 
 
 Fermor, feeling another of those sharp pangs which he had 
 experienced before, turned suddenly aside with his best air of 
 indifference, and broke suddenly into the little gipsy encamp- 
 ment beside him. He was scarcely of the pattern for that 
 company. He had always treated them with a coldness that 
 was almost insolence. But though thus long outraged, they 
 seemed to look wistfully at hirr . His irruption was now a sur- 
 prise, and welcomed with delight. He threw the party of 
 military boys into disorder, who could scarce cope with a craft 
 of this metal. The eldest tossed her head, and was almost obse- 
 quious to him. Violet, looking over of a sudden, saw the 
 Christian knight ensnared by the Moabitish women, and 
 started. Hanbury, whose face was like a sunbeam, and who 
 found himself that night drifting deliciously down the river, 
 suddenly found her grow abstracted. 
 
 There was now to be music. The eldest Miss Manuel was 
 
Major Carter's " Littk Parly." 93 
 
 taken over to a tiny cottage piano, led by Major Carter, who, 
 leaning on it as it were on a balcony, and looking in her face, 
 talked critically of its beauties and secret powers. 
 
 "You don't think much of our piano," he said. "No won- 
 der ! You should have had an Erard, the most splendid that 
 could be got for money. Yet I assure you, Miss Van Tromp, 
 Lady Charlotte's daughter, you know, chose it herself. I assure 
 you she said " continued he, half turning round and address- 
 ing a little audience that had gathered "she said there was a 
 peculiar sustained ring in the middle notes which she had never 
 met with in any other instrument. One might be choosing 
 pianos for years without meeting such a thing. Quire an 
 accident." 
 
 It did seem wonderful how that dull percussion of wood 
 upon wood could have so struck Lady Charlotte's daughter 5 but 
 such is the force of prestige and musical authority, that heads 
 were presently seen bent a little on one side at a slight angle, 
 and it was thought that indications of this rare and peculiar 
 timbre were to be detected. 
 
 Major Carter listened with pleasure, looking round from one 
 to the other. "As you may imagine," he said, " I only thought 
 myself too lucky, and snapped it up at once. And there you 
 see what it is!" 
 
 This is a sample of that shining varnish, a bottle of which 
 Major Carter always carried in his conversational pocket. As 
 she broke into her symphony, which had a sort of wild awk- 
 wardness, and a lawless measure, she thought she would do her 
 best, and sang a Spanish song, full of a strange defiance and 
 picturesqueness, and in which the clinking sounds of the cas- 
 tanets were heard, and short scarlet petticoats seemed to flash. 
 
 This sort of entertainment scarcely fell within the round of 
 amusements the Campbells affected. Music was profitable for 
 them in a certain sense : they found it like the music in a 
 melodrama, effective for " talking through." Fermor enter- 
 tained them with an active hilarity and gaiety, but he noted, 
 warily, piteous, restless glances stolen over in his direction, and 
 was pleased with his own skill. Presently the brother passed 
 close by, and rather fretted him by a satisfied supercilious air, as 
 who should say, all danger is past and we are now in port. And 
 finally Miss Manuel, having sung her Bolero, and being led past 
 in a sort of progress by Major Carter, looked so bright and 
 "lustrous," and gave Fermor such a warm, cordial, happy greet- 
 ing, that his brow became suddenly overcast; and his mariner 
 
9 6 Never Forgotten. 
 
 absent ; and having accepted a lively sally of Miss Jessie Camp- 
 bell with an extraordinary relish but a few moments before, he 
 now received the next with his coldest stare, and quite discom- 
 posed her. Presently he saw some of the youth of the regiment, 
 whose angry passions he had inflamed by his sudden interference, 
 growling vindictively, telling new ladies to whom they had 
 attached themselves all about the mess-table scene. And 
 Captain Thersites, passing quite close, and lounging past, called 
 out with an unmistakable sneer, " Poor Fermor ! I say, I 
 thought we were to wait until to-night ! " 
 
 Miss Jessie Campbell, who illustrated the thin texture of her 
 small-talk with a border of giggles, that seemed almost hyste- 
 rical, found herself, to her surprise, left on the broken rafter of 
 an incomplete sentence. Fermor had strode away, clearly not 
 thinking of her, or of what she was saying, and was whispering 
 to Major Carter at the other end of the room ; who, delighted 
 and flattered, received the communication with a smile of sur- 
 prise. "Ah, you think so ! What an idea ! I am really under 
 obligations to you. The very thing, just as we were beginning 
 to flag a little." 
 
 " Quite easy," said Fermor, explaining his theory with great 
 fluency and a professional air j " move away these things get 
 those dowagers into the corners the young ladies to play by 
 turns less formal, you see; and we can make a beginning, 
 say with with/' added Fermor, looking round the room 
 " ah, Miss Manuel !" 
 
 "To be sure, so we can/' said Major Carter, in a tumult of 
 delight. 
 
 " And you can get Mr. Hanbury, and some of those strong 
 men," continued Fermor, " to clear the room a sort of fatigue 
 party." 
 
 Miss Manuel was delighted pleased to do anything useful 
 on that night. And Hanbury, called over, was presently ware- 
 housing all the furniture of the room in corners, stowing away 
 heavy weights with enthusiasm. At every party there are honest 
 creatures like this, who revel in being made social hodmen. 
 The "boys" assisted with juvenile delight, and there were 
 marvels done in the way of wheeling off on castors, and hemming 
 up one of the Miss Campbells (engrossed with Mr. Lockit) 
 behind an ottoman. Mr. Lockit had helped her off the broken 
 plank where Fermor had left her, and they both agreed that a 
 more vain, conceited, brusque creature never was with 
 "jiothingin hjm, t " 
 
MOJOJ Carters "Little Party^ 97 
 
 When Hanbury, boisterous even heated with his exertions, 
 looked round for general approbation, he saw Fermor on the 
 very chair he had quitted for a few seconds only. At that 
 distance, too, he could even see that Fermor was speaking 
 very fast and earnestly, and that Violet was listening with an 
 absorbed devotion. Had this been a crafty artifice on the part 
 of Fermor? It must be said, such were not his usual weapons. 
 
 Hanbury plunged over in a blunt hurried way. "They are 
 going to have a quadrille," he said, "and and I am come for 
 you that is, if you will dance.'* 
 
 Fermor looked up at him with his most good-natured smile. 
 "You have been doing wonders,'* he said 5 "we have been 
 looking at you. Properly, Miss Violet is engaged to me, but I 
 think," he said, "we shan't dance at all. Now, I tell you, you 
 should make yourself useful, and ask some of those people 
 yonder. 
 
 He looked at hei foi an answer, but she gave none. " Are 
 you engaged?" he said. 
 
 "Good gracious!" said Fermor, "have not we told you t 
 
 Why *' and he whispered something to her, with a smile 
 
 and a look of intelligence, Hanbury did not mind the smile, 
 but when he saw the look, he turned round and walked away. 
 Miss Manuel, who had been playing scraps and patches of music 
 very pleasantly, had seen the whole of this little episode, and flew 
 across to speak to her sister Between sisters these expresses 
 are common, and she whispered a few words j but they 
 were vehement words, full of concentrated meaning. But, " So 
 you are really to be our orchestra," came to her ear in the voice 
 of Major Carter. " I don't know what to say to you, it is so 
 kind." And he made a coasting voyage round the room, saying 
 to every one, "You see who I have got for the orchestra." 
 " Miss Manuel is good-natured enough to touch my little piar^, 
 Miss Van Tromp," &c. 
 
 Fermor and his companion were the only two not dancing. 
 Every one standing up in the little hollow, square looked round 
 at them as at something conspicuous or marked. The orchestra 
 must have thus been busy herself, for she had a sort of reputa- 
 tion for this kind of playing, and her fingers used to perform whole 
 ballets on the keys 5 but now it wanted spirit, and she was 
 glancing uneasily over -the top of the little cottage piano. 
 
 No wonder. For all this time Fermor's words were pouring 
 out very fast. Violet seemed to be feasting on them as on some 
 delicious fruit. There was a tender -air about her that night, 
 
 H 
 
p8 Never Forgotten. 
 
 her eyes had a soft shy look, and she had a half helpless, half 
 tender and trusting manner, which to Fermor was fascinating. 
 
 "If you would only confide in me my advice has been 
 found useful sometimes I should give you the best I am capable 
 of. Or perhaps and you won t be angry ? I know the story, 
 or can guess it all." 
 
 A softness, too, had come upon Fermor' s voice, and covered 
 it like a delicate bloom. The lustrous eyes seemed to lift them- . 
 selves to meet his, not so much languidly as reverently 
 
 "There is pressure, persuasion, what may be called family 
 intimidation, put upon you," he went on, a little excitedly. 
 " From the best motives, no doubt. I know not what that sort 
 of thing means. If we put our home lives side by side there 
 would be a wonderful likeness. These things repeat them- 
 selves. But / can use a firm resistance. We men can fight, but 
 you are helpless." 
 
 "Oh," said she, softly, " it is so good of you. But I cannot 
 ask you I ought not to speak of these things, but in some way 
 I feel " 
 
 "You feel,' said Fermor, with his "lighter scornful man- 
 ner," as he would call it, "that I am not exactly the person 
 quite so. You take what I say for mere fashionable words of 
 course. Exactly. Why not choose that rough, honest creature 
 yonder, who is glaring at us so savagely *" 
 
 Honest John was, indeed, looking back from his ranks in the 
 quadrille in sorest distress, and then dancing with desperate 
 indifference. 
 
 What Fermor intended when he sat down he could not well 
 tell himself. If any one had said to him, '' You are going to 
 embark on the rough stormy waves of a great ocean mind, I 
 warn you," he would have smiled, and have returned with his 
 usual triumphal air of victory. In the same way, if any one had 
 said to him, lightly, " You are going to amuse yourself with a 
 poor girl, and make a plaything of her," he would have scouted 
 the idea, and, by way of compensation, have been gracefully 
 considerate to her the whole night long. The truth was, he did 
 not know what he wanted, or what he intended. He only felt 
 a void of longing for a dramatic scene, and he felt himself 
 gradually drawn on and on to the stage. 
 
 " Well," said Fermor, "shall 1 tell you all J " He waited a 
 moment. " The wretched gossips of this wretched place have the 
 whole story too. They say it is a very suitable thing; riches, honesty, 
 the good '' bluffness ' of the novels, and a warm attachment." 
 
The Two Sisters in Council. 99 
 
 '* Oh I never, never, 1 said she, not lifting her eyes. " I know 
 you are my friend, and have been so good this is no harm they 
 wish me 5 they are pressing me cruelly, and I am not strong 
 enough to resist. But, oh, Captain Fermor, the thought makes 
 me wretched ! " 
 
 Never did he enjoy a dramatic situation so much. 
 
 " Why," said he, with pleasant astonishment, " how all this 
 surprises me I I declare 1 thought it was an old attachment !" 
 
 "It was, it was, until " She stopped 
 
 "Until what?" 
 
 She was colouring and flushing, and dislocating her fan. 
 "Oh," she went on, * I am so unhappy, and I don't know what 
 to do. I have no friend. I am alone in that house. They are 
 all against me, except mamma. And they say, and it is true, 
 that it would be so dishonourable, he is so good and generous 
 
 and faithful. And, and then " she hesitated, " I must decide 
 
 to-night, for he is to go away to-morrow for ever, and it 
 
 makes me wretched." 
 
 She was so beautiful in hei confusion, so delicate, so brilliant, 
 that Fermor, in a warm infatuation, lost in a second his cold and 
 steady command of himself. The reins slackened in his hand, 
 and he was carried away by the whirl of dramatic effect. Even 
 in a flash of a second he had a glimpse of Captain Thersites 
 opposite, motioning him out with his eyes, to the lady he was 
 dancing with ; to whom, no doubt, he was stooping and whis- 
 pering contemptuously. 
 
 That look decided him. Perhaps -the triumph of so splendid 
 a repulse the vision of the mess- table this might have been 
 the little straw, the feather, perhaps, that turned the balance. 
 He bent down his head and whispered to her softly 
 
 CHAPTER THE TWENTY-FIRST, 
 
 THE TWO SISTERS IN COUNCIL. 
 
 dance was done. The orchestra came over hurriedly 
 *" from the little piano, released at last. Her lip was com- 
 pressed, and her eye severe. Fermor got up, and with a curious 
 flush in his face, moved away. Hanbury, " hanging about" un- 
 decidedly for a time, seemed to draw near in gradually narrow- 
 ing circles, and finally stood before Violet with a piteous injured 
 
ioo Never Forgotten. 
 
 look. He found comfort in the sudden change in her manner. 
 She was excited -, talked and smiled excitedly. She was eager 
 to dance, and accepted when he proposed it. Her manner, 
 however, was "distracted/' and though she answered him a little 
 at random, he accepted her smiles in place of a more direct 
 answer. Her sister, delighted, again volunteered to step into 
 the orchestra $ and, looking with beaming face over the little 
 cottage piano, poured forth a mad tantalising galop, that chal 
 lenged every foot in the room. It was only " a carpet dance 5 " 
 but presently the Miss Campbells, each armed with a military 
 boy, were hurrying round, their dresses sweeping the faces of 
 older dames who were seated. Major Carter looked on in de 
 light. " 'Port my word,' he said, "this is surprising 5 quite a 
 gay little rout ! Come on me by surprise ! " 
 
 Fermor's heart was beating as he looked on, 
 
 "Won't do," said Captain Thersites, passing him. "I say, 
 Fermor, poor fellow ! look over there." 
 
 Fermor looked after him with triumph and contempt. 
 "Fool!" he thought, "this will put him down." And for 
 many minutes he enjoyed this thought. 
 
 At one o'clock came in a few emaciated ices, and some phials 
 of coloured sugar and water " sorbet '' on the French plan. 
 Abundance, however, was supplied, o^ ihe poverty of material 
 covered, by the triumph of the entry, which was in all the clatter 
 of ice-spoons and the jingling of innumerable glasses. With 
 which was mixed up the voice of Major Carter, chanting an 
 anthem : " Take an ice ! do take an ice ! Let me get you a 
 sorbet. We try to have Paris over again, in our little way, of 
 course. I am afraid I am half a Frenchman Do have an 
 ice," &c. 
 
 It was a very happy little evening ; such good humour on all 
 sides. Not till nearly two did they go away. 
 
 Hanbury drifted after the Manuels down stairs. Rude joy 
 was on his broad honest face, yet he was a little doubtful and 
 mystified. As they went down, the elder girl had just oppor- 
 tunity to whisper with delightful anticipation, " Well ? all settled, 
 I am sure." To whom John answered, as secretly and as 
 ecstatically, with a friendly look and crushing squeeze. And, 
 while Hanbury was getting her cloak, Miss Manuel turned to 
 her brother, and, in the same delightful whisper, told him, "All 
 settled. Poor, good John ! How happy he is! " 
 
 Afterwards, there was a sort of hurried conclave sitting m the 
 
The Two Sisters in Council. 10 1 
 
 eldest Miss Manuel's room a wild, flurried meeting. The 
 mother, Mrs Manuel, was called in to listen. "I knew it," 
 said the younger girl, rapturously. " I told you so, in spite of 
 all you said, and all you prophesied. Now has he not redeemed 
 himself ? " and she looked round on them, from one to the other, 
 very triumphantly. Her eyes were glistening, her cheeks glow- 
 ing -, she was curiously excited, as, indeed, a very small occasion 
 would excite her. She was the heroine of the moment. Her 
 face seemed to play with repeated flashes of light. Like a child 
 in her joy, she walked up and down before them, in little quick 
 short marches. The others looked on her with pride, and yet 
 with sadness. 
 
 "Yes, dear," said her sister, " you were right and will be 
 very happy but the only thing is, I am thinking " 
 
 The younger girl stopped her. "Now for the difficulties," she 
 said, smiling -, " you dear, wise, old-fashioned Pauline. You are 
 going to give me advice. I know you are." 
 
 "No, indeed," said the other j "but I am thinking and I 
 cannot help thinking of poor, poor John What is to be done 
 with him? " 
 
 Violet's eyes were suddenly cast upon the ground. For a few 
 moments there was silence. 
 
 "I have thought of him," she said, "and, indeed, I am 
 very sorry. He is so good, so kind, so generous. He is so 
 strong. He may suffer a little at first. But he will get over 
 it. I could not help it, you know, dearest Pauline, I could not. 
 I did not know my own mind, and thought I liked him." 
 
 Her brother, who had come in, was now standing in the 
 doorway. 
 
 "There is the misfortune," he said, gravely. "How will 
 that console him? Such a brave, honest, faithful man. Ah, 
 Violet, take care ! " 
 
 " He is indeed," said the young girl, eagerly, and in some 
 confusion : "and he has been so good to me ! And I have be- 
 haved very cruelly. But I did not me.an it, and I am sure I 
 know he has such a sensible, manly heart that after a little 
 time he will " 
 
 "Ah, exactly," said her brother, excitedly; "it is these 
 sensible manly hearts that feel these things. No, no; I know 
 him by this time. This will spoil his life or many good years 
 of his life. This is not a mere scrape or scratch. Poor 
 Hanbury ! " 
 
 "I am very unfortunate ! I am very miserable!" she said, 
 
102 . Never Forgotten. 
 
 looking from one to the other in great distress. ** I nevef 
 thought I never meant it : indeed, I did not 3 " and her soft 
 eyes began to grow dim with coming tears. 
 
 The elder girl, who, up to this moment, had been supporting 
 all that her brother had been saying, now suddenly deserted him, 
 and running to her sister, put her arms about her. 
 
 "No, no," she said; " things will turn out much better. 
 Poor John is sensible, as you say, and will suffer a little at first, 
 like all men He is strong. Come, darling, don't think of him. 
 We shall see him in the morning, and set it right. After 
 all, the point is that you are to be happy and you must be 
 happy." 
 
 The brother, still gloomy, sighed. "Ah ! that is the point/' 
 he said, dejectedly ; " we know so little of this man." 
 
 The elder girl had made her protest, as a duty. She now 
 cast away her grim grandmother's cloak and hood and crooked 
 stick. Shutting her eyes, she got rid of the gravities of judg- 
 ment and sage counsel 5 and the two talked the new engage- 
 ment over when they were going to bed rapturously, as sisters 
 do in council. Alone together, letting their hair fall, and 
 undressing by slow, lingering stages, everything became gold 
 and colour : the richest gold and the richest colour. The little 
 scene at Major Carter's party was acted all over again, and over 
 again after that, with pre-Raphaelite detail. 
 
 Violet had soon swept away any momentary clouds. She was 
 walking up and down, full of enthusiasm, and telling all to her 
 sister with charming confidence. " From the first day he spoke 
 to us, you recollect, dear, near the gate, I someway felt I can't 
 describe it a sort of sensation that he was to be something to 
 me. It came on me like a flash. There was something in his 
 eyes, and you recollect how he came to me straight and I 
 understood him and he almost told me," she added, shyly, 
 "he had much the same feeling about me." 
 
 "And you never told me," said her sister, "to whom you tell 
 everything, or say you tell everything, you quiet, sly child, 
 whom I thought so innocent. I suppose you were afraid about 
 poor John." 
 
 "Yes," said Violet, dropping her eyes, "you were all such 
 friends of his." 
 
 "And I suppose," said her sister, "it was on the same day 
 that poor John's fate was sealed." 
 
 "Why, I am afraid so," said Violet, still looking down, 
 " And oh ! Pauline dear, it was the most curious thing in the 
 
Two Sisters in Council. 163 
 
 world. For I did like him so, and admire him up to that day : 
 I did, indeed. And he really seemed qute handsome until " 
 
 " Until the other came," said Pauline. " Well, you won't be 
 angry, but if 1 were to compare the two, in point of looks " 
 
 "No, no!" said Violet, with childlike eagerness, "indeed 
 he's not. There's something so refined, and so calm and quiet 
 about him, and so intellectual " 
 
 " Say perfect, at once, darling," said her sister, kissing her. 
 
 "Ah, that is the thing," said the other, sighing. "What 
 will he say when he finds out how much below him I am in 
 knowledge ? Indeed, I told him as much. But he has 
 promised," she said, brightening, " to teach me everything him- 
 self, and to 'form my mind,' as he says." 
 
 "Your poor little mind !" said her sister, with a sigh. 
 
 Not until he got to his own room, that night, when the foot- 
 lights were out, and the linen covers put round the boxes, did 
 Fermor awake. Daylight, grey and cold, mixing oddly with his 
 lamp, was coming in at his window. He felt a sort of sensation 
 that he had taken some fatal step, and could not turn back. 
 
 " Perhaps I have been too hasty," he said. After every step 
 of any decided sort, this indecision comes, which perhaps arises 
 from the feeling that it is impossible to go back. Fermor sat 
 long in that mixed light, gazing a little vacantly at his watch 
 and guard-chain "How could I have been so hurried?" he 
 said. "I might have waited a little." 
 
 Then he thought of his mother, at Nice, Lady Laura Fermor, 
 a cold woman of fashion, of reduced means. Perhaps this was 
 the spectre that was threatening him. And he had to reassure 
 himself with his Spanish castle, setting that Miss Manuel walk- 
 ing through the grounds in shadow and in rich light. Self- 
 confidence came to help him. "A good sensible letter," he 
 said ("one of my good sensible letters," was the special shape 
 of the thought), " will set the thing in its proper light before 
 her. After all, a man can't go on in this unprofitable way, 
 neither good nor useful to himself nor to others. I should be 
 ashamed to descend into the grave after such a selfish career. 
 No, she is charming ! such devotion, such pretty devotion, I 
 have never seen." And the recollection of it, with his own 
 excellent playing all through it, came back on him more accept- 
 ably. With an eagerness not unnatural, he got out his ink and 
 crested and initialled paper, and actually wrote the "good 
 sensible letter " to his mother. It could go by the morning's mail, 
 and he would have an answer signifying its effect within a week. 
 
104 Never Forgotten. 
 
 CHAPTER THE TWENTY-SECOND. 
 
 FERMOR'S NEW CHARACTER. 
 
 rFHE sensation produced in the little colony when the news got 
 abroad, which it did very soon, was something astonishing. 
 It was passed from hand to hand, like a fire-bucket at a confla- 
 gration. There were those who had never thought it, and those 
 who had always thought it; those who believed it from the be- 
 ginning, and those who now could not believe it; with a smaller 
 and more select class whom it affected in a rather overwhelming 
 way, falling on them "like a thunderbolt." 
 
 Fermor detested undue publicity of this sort, and to have any 
 plans of his special life made free with in the common speech 
 was a gross liberty. He froze over all congratulations. It was 
 wonderful when he looked back on the singular and sudden 
 step he had taken how one of his character could have carried 
 himself so steadily through. But, as he said to himself pretty 
 often, the "truly balanced mind" is never surprised, and suffers 
 no starts or shocks. Everything is foreseen, and everything falls 
 into the tranquil daily current. Besides, he had within him an 
 extraordinary amount of what he took for resolution; but 
 which, when the tests and acids came to be applied by a moral 
 chemist, sank to the bottom, resolved into a powder composed 
 of vanity and a little obstinacy. The vanity could not allow him 
 to think he could have made a mistake. 
 
 He had now, too, his melodramatic. dress on. He felt that 
 he could enjoy the luxury of being " generous," and thought 
 with quite a suffusion of noble feelings of the case of John 
 Hanbury. His worsting of that gentleman, and overthrow of 
 other enemies, were indeed complacent thoughts he was never 
 weary of entertaining. One of the first things he did was to 
 call on John Hanbury, and, as he walked to the house, he had 
 his hand out, morally, all the way. 
 
 Hanbury was at his desk, and had been writing, but his face 
 was covered up by his hands, and when he looked up, Fermor 
 was almost startled by the plain marks of suffering and anxiety. 
 In all projecting places it had been sharpened, and all colour 
 had passed away. 
 
 Hanbury received him with a violent flush, and a paleness as 
 
 violent. "To what am I indebted " he was beginning, 
 
 with a clumsy attempt at cold dignity, which amused Fermor. 
 
Fermor s New Character 105 
 
 " Come, come ! " said the latter, putting out his physical hand 
 this time, just as he had rehearsed it, " let us be plain and above- 
 board with one another. I am sorry about the whole business, 
 for your sake, indeed I am. But you must consider what I arr, : 
 take a plain, practical view." 
 
 The other took his hand doubtfully. " I did not expect it 
 ah! I scarcely expecjted it of you, Fermor/' he said, mournfully, 
 "I would not have behaved so to another man." 
 
 "Poor childish creature!" thought Fermor, pityingly, yet 
 singularly gratified with himself, " how absurdly he feels it, or 
 shows that he feels it." Fermor himself, in a similar case, would 
 have let the fox under his uniform eat his heart out at least, so 
 he thought. " Come, come ! you will be reasonable, I know. 
 You will bear it in a manly way, I am sure, when you think of 
 it coolly." 
 
 "Ah !" said the other, bitterly, " with some that comes very 
 natural. There are people who think of everything coolly ; / 
 can't: I wish to God I could $ I would not be as as miserable 
 as I am." He sat down again at his desk, and put up his 
 hands. "It was a new life to me/' he went on, in a sort of 
 dismal monotone. '' It was like a change to heaven I mean, 
 all these last few months. I never, never was so happy ! And 
 I firmly believe she was as happy, and liked me for a time, at 
 
 least until until Ah !" he continued, appealing piteously 
 
 to Fermor, "why did you do it? How could you amuse your- 
 self with such heartless sport ? You will have had things of this 
 sort over and over again ; with me it happens only once. It is 
 a whole life, and now that you have taken away life from me, 
 
 what is left to me? I tell you, Fermor " He stopped 
 
 himself. "After all, I suppose you are not so much to blame." 
 
 "Now," said Fermor, laying his hand on his arm, "if you 
 Would listen to me for a moment I think I could put the matter 
 in such a reasonable light, that " 
 
 "I know, I know," said Hanbury, dismally. "But I don't 
 want reason, it is a poor comfort to me. I suppose it is all 
 right it was to be, and so it came to be. Of course she has 
 her free will, and could change her mind if she pleased. It 
 would be very hard if she couldn't." 
 
 "Now, that is a rational way to -take it," said Fermor ; "and 
 if I could speak of myself as a third person only it is a little 
 delicate, you will admit you see, as I said before, I was really 
 passive in the business. And you will pardon me, I think, if I 
 remind you that at our last meeting you really almost threw 
 
106 Never Forgotten. 
 
 down the glove. You recollect? Now, when a man's pride is 
 appealed to, and he is put upon his mettle you see ? I really 
 don't know but that, if you had appealed to rne as you did now 
 that is, put the thing in the present forcible light " 
 
 "Oh, I know/' groaned Hanbury. "I am sure of it. But I 
 am so awkward, and clumsy, and stupid, I always do something 
 heavy and foolish. And now," he continued, with a doleful 
 smile, " the only thing left for me is to bear it as best I can, and 
 go away to the sheep-walks again. I am sure to make no blun- 
 ders there. Good-bye." 
 
 Fermor went away full of real pity and compassion for this 
 " honest poor soul," who in so confiding a way exhibited his 
 foolish heart to all comers. " He will hawk his sorrows all over 
 the place," thought Fermor. " Perhaps it would be the best 
 thing that could happen to him, if he only knew how to get 
 profit out of his misfortune. But he does not. If I were in 
 his place, it would be a whole fortune to me." Even as it 
 turned out, it was a whole fortune to him, for Hanbury's acute 
 sufferings seemed to make his victory more precious. 
 
 But it was not until he first saw Thersites Showers in full mess 
 council, when the chiefs met at dinner, that he reaped all the 
 profit of the step he had taken. When Fermor came in among 
 them they now looked at each other shyly, and at him with 
 reverence. They were boys after all, and they felt their boy- 
 hood. Here was their master. The horse-race had established 
 him : so, too, had this other race. They all seemed to feel their 
 littleness in his presence. He walked in like a hero, and was 
 very gracious to them. But his real superiority lay in the defeat 
 of Showers. Just as the regiment had its adjutant and messman, 
 and even a brains-carrier or two, so Showers was kept in pay as 
 their sarcastic sharpshooter. In a lull, or in a critical moment, 
 he was ordered to the front, like the comic-song singer among 
 the privates on a march, Now he seemed to be cashiered. He 
 had broken down, and was held in contempt. 
 
 " Somehow," said Fermor, after the mess dinner, in the great 
 arm-chair, and with his hands in his pockets, looking down the 
 length of his legs, as it were along an engineer's level, " you see 
 I know myself thoroughly, and what I can do. Anything I lay 
 myself out for seriously, I can bring about in the long run. I 
 don't," continued Fermor, modestly looking round on them all, 
 " set up to do more than other men, but, you see, I make more 
 of my materials. Another thing," he continued, "when I 
 make up my mind to a business, I always have it done at once. 
 
The Fermor Family. 107 
 
 Every second of dawdling over a serious step is diminishing its 
 value. It is like," continued he, smiling at some pleasant little 
 fancies that were coming into his mind, " like, say, so much out 
 of the proceeds of a bill commission, brokerage, and that sort 
 >f thing." And in this fashion Captain Fermor lectured away 
 for a long time to a very serious and attentive congregation. He 
 came home very well satisfied with himself, in a conviction that 
 he had really carried off a prize, defeated innumerable competi- 
 tors, and was on a sort of envied tableland looking down on all, 
 and regarded by all with a wistful admiration. 
 
 CHAPTER THE TWENTY-THIRD. 
 
 THE FERMOR FAMILY. 
 
 LADY LAURA FERMOR, fourth daughter of a late Earl of Hun- 
 gerford, was well recollected, by many gentlemen with grey 
 whiskers, as Lady Laura Stonehewer. Tall, almost plain, with 
 gaunt shoulders, kept in confinement by secret power below, 
 from which they seemed struggling to escape, she had perfect 
 "style" and "tone 3" and as she performed her scenes in the 
 circle with daring, and went round and round in the social circus 
 with rapidity, came to be vastly admired. Like the ugly Mr. 
 Wilkes, she was but a few seconds behind the loveliest 5 and 
 some extra exertion and hard riding always brought her to the 
 front. 
 
 She had been long in the service. For years she had been in 
 the drawing-rooms, and met only indifferent sport. At last, a 
 mild country gentleman Thornton Fermor, Esq., of the Holy- 
 oakes looking down one evening, saw her in her gauze and 
 spangles dashing by, almost covering him in a cloud of the saw- 
 dust. He was delighted with her " dash " and action. The 
 shoulders were, luckily, not insubordinate. There was another 
 gentleman "after" Lady Laura, Mr. Westende, later Sir John, 
 whose prospects were not so good, and who was said to have 
 been badly treated -, but his sufferings were of small moment. 
 Lady Laura Stonehewer became Lady Laura Fermor, and retired 
 down to the Holyoakes, where the surrounding gentry delighted 
 in sending notes, requesting the pleasure of " Mr. Fermor's and 
 Lady Laura Fermor's company at dinner," and positively rang 
 
io8 Never Forgotten. 
 
 them joyfully together in concert, as though they had been a 
 peal of church bells. 
 
 In due time they began to contribute to the Heraldic Koran : 
 and the mild Thornton " by her had issue : n 
 
 1. Charles Hungerford $ 
 
 2. Alicia Mary 5 
 
 3. Blanche ; and 
 
 4. Laura. 
 
 Charles Hungerford grew up, became a fashionable child and 
 boy, never showed the least taste for ostler or kitchen society, 
 and, in the lower ranks, was considered a cold, " stuck up " lad, 
 with "no manners." To him his mother was a missionary, 
 preaching the gospel of good society, and the companionship of 
 genteel confessors. " However high you are," she was always 
 saying to him, " look a little higher, and you will be sure, if 
 you do not advance, at least to keep your place. Everything 
 has a tendency to slip down." So with dress and appearance. 
 The best clothes, the dearest and best tailor, were cheaper in the 
 end than the cheapest and meanest, as they returned all outlay 
 in the respect and consideration they brought with them. So 
 with select companions and tastes j and Charles Hungerford 
 became an eager catechumen in this faith, and a little fanatic. 
 
 Thornton Fermor, Esq., had only a genteel patrimony, and as 
 Alicia Mary, Blanche, and Laura junior, as well as Charles Hun- 
 gerford, were encouraged in the same costly virtues, their com- 
 bined outlay became a serious total. Charles Hungerford was 
 sent, not so much to a fashionable school, as to a fashionable set 
 at the school. Till he was twenty he sat everywhere in a private 
 box. Lady Laura, taking stock of her labours and good deeds, 
 often said that she had at least given them the best education 
 " that money could procure," which really meant no more than 
 that they had been well grounded in the best juvenile society 
 that could be found. She herself a wonderful captain, seemed 
 not to care either for eating or drinking, or, above all, for sleep. 
 What she found in the hard, hopeless sort of life she lived, and 
 which she called "gaiety," would be difficult to discover. 
 
 Thornton Fermor was a sort of quiet woman in a man's dress, 
 and received orders from her. She felt a little twinge when 
 Mr. Westende became Sir John : but she did not vent this wrong 
 on Mr. Fermor. And it was just as well. She had just settled 
 that Charles Hungerford, who had been at Oxford studying 
 young Lord Chester and Sir Victor Banbury, and other young 
 
The Fermor Family. 109 
 
 gentlemen of quality, should be "put" into a Guards' regiment. 
 \vhenThornton Fermor glided away out of the world exactly 
 as he used to glide away of an evening out of his home racket to 
 a tranquil club but leaving his affairs, as friends told each other, 
 " in sad confusion." A huddled hasty settlement of things was 
 effected. Charles Fermor had to "go" into a corps where 
 there were no youths of quality, but only the sons of thriving 
 merchants $ where the senior captain was the second child of the 
 well-known Manchester horse repository 5 and where some of 
 the junior ensigns bore names that awkwardly and pointedly 
 suggested brewing, cotton-spinning, and colonial produce. 
 Finally, Alicia, showing symptoms of " weakness of the chest," 
 Lady Laura Fermor broke up her camp, loaded her baggage- 
 carts, and marched for Nice ; whence very soon was written 
 home news of " Alicia's chest being restored." 
 
 It was hard not to admire the boldness, the energy, the un- 
 flagging spirit of this untiring woman. If she had ever thought 
 of the unimportant little matter of making a soul, or could have 
 spared any time for such a business, she would have held a high 
 spiritual place. She worked out a fashionable salvation with 
 infinite mortification of the flesh, and all manner of painful 
 austerities in the narrow and thorny paths of social pleasures. 
 Poor lady ! Did she ever smile when she heard the select 
 preacher at the select church she attended, declaiming against 
 what he called the "alluring seductions" of the world! At 
 her time of life, a lawyer, a merchant, a soldier, who had seen 
 such service as she had seen, would think of honourable retire- 
 ment. The soldier, spent and battered, might honourably retire 
 to his Chelsea or his Invalides ; she was entitled to her pension, 
 her seat in the sun, and, figuratively, her tranquil pipe. She 
 might gossip with other veteran dowagers, also in honourable 
 "retreat." But this undaunted woman was only thinking of 
 new fields and new campaigns. 
 
 Yet she worked under grave discouragement. Alicia Mary, 
 Blanche, and Laura, with remarkable promise as children, did 
 not answer early expectation. In all of them there was a ten- 
 dency to inherited gauntness. Late bivouacking and exposure 
 had told roughly on Alicia Mary and her sisters. Their mother 
 did what she could with them almost tried to reconstruct them 
 altogether. She might dress them with costliness and in the 
 best taste, of which she had abundance, and she might turn on 
 perfect conduits of porter and port and "nourishing" stimu- 
 lants j she might push and twist them untiringly, wearily drill- 
 
no Never Forgotten. 
 
 ing them : it would not do, and could not be done. Could she 
 fill in the hollow gaps in their necks and shoulders, and pare off 
 those sharpnesses which projected like chimneypiece corners, she 
 would have had more than mortal skill. No wonder that 
 Captain Singleman, in his coarse way, said of the young ladies 
 they were a "hopeless lot." Still she persevered, and by never 
 relaxing her efforts, by ceaseless training, by dressing them well, 
 by talking of them as superiors, and filling the air round them as 
 they marched with' the sound of the Stonehewers and other 
 family titles, like Turkish music, and, above all, by hurrying up 
 when she saw them broken, and making them form square, she 
 managed to secure for them a place and a sort of false prestige. 
 Thus they were always led out to the dance, and never looked on 
 sadly at the whirling measure while others danced. 
 
 At Nice, things seemed brighter. In that quarter there was 
 what her ladyship called an opening a destitution in the matter 
 of good serviceable girls, There unsound chests, " affected " 
 lungs, and consumption, went out to parties, and, with flushed 
 cheeks, were ready to stand up and go through the dance with 
 all comers. The delicacy of Alicia Mary's chest was quite a 
 different sort of thing. In this narrow little paddock " Lady 
 Laura Fermor " was said to be quite an addition. She had the 
 freedom of every drawing-room at once presented to her. She 
 took, almost as a matter of right, the fowling over those moors. 
 Afar off her wary eyes had already marked down something 
 stirring in the underwood. She came, not unprovided with 
 reliable information. She knew of some young and noble chests 
 that were " threatened," and, as she had anticipated, found 
 young" Gulliver and Lord Woodleigh, yet younger and more 
 tender in years, already in this happy sanatorium. These youths 
 idolised the valse and the wilder galop, and Alicia Mary and 
 Blanche ambled round in those measures with singular grace and 
 agility. It was a surprise to meet these young men so far away, 
 in one of the little narrow chambers where the Nice festivals 
 were given. A few of the colony the Welbore Cravens, the 
 Browns, the Selwyns, and a delightful French family, the " La 
 Motte-Terrays," whom all the select English knew " saw each 
 other" a good deal. 
 
 " Ah ! that winter we spent at Nice ! " said Major Brown, a 
 couple of years later. " You remember, Fanny ? The nice 
 little parties we gave to each other. No scandalous waste in 
 suppers, and music, and tumbling the house out of windows as 
 we do in this absurd country. You stuck a few wax-candlea 
 
A Diplomatist. ill 
 
 about, and squeezed a dozen of lemons, and the thing was done. 
 We went from one house to another. ' Sir, you have me to- 
 night, and I have you to-morrow night.' The prettiest girls 
 came to us, and how they enjoyed themselves ! You recollect 
 that young La Motte-What's-his-name, when he got up the 
 cotillon at our house ?" 
 
 This style of entertainment suited Lady Laura Fermor's taste 
 exactly. She called it "rational enjoyment," and she carried 
 out the total abstinence principle even further than her neigh- 
 bours. As conquerors make war support war, so she made 
 dances support dances, and guests support guests. She artfully 
 went round "drawing the line," exposing plaintively unworthy 
 intrigues that had been set on foot to break into her select plea- 
 sure-grounds, and actually succeeded in setting an artificial value 
 on her little cheap " drums." People struggled to get admission 
 to those little hot rooms, and Alicia Mary, Blanche, and Laura 
 junior, were contended for with animation. As they drifted of 
 a night into one of these festive cabins, with their indomitable 
 parent in the front of the little procession, young Gulliver and 
 the younger Woodleigh came swooping down on them, eager to 
 secure them both showing signs of excessive heat. In those 
 youths, indeed, they exercised a sort of proprietorship: with 
 them they exchanged glances of intelligence and significant 
 words. At their humorous sallies and sometimes they gam- 
 bolled before them in the Ethiopian manner the sisters Fermor 
 were convulsed ; their sense of the humour of the exhibition 
 contending with an attempt at grave reproof. Lady Laura, 
 true and faithful night after night, got into her uniform and 
 went on duty in the trenches : and, all through wet and expo- 
 sure, exhaustion and fatigue, never once failed -, never would fail 
 unto the end. 
 
 CHAPTER THE TWENTY-FOURTH. 
 
 A DIPLOMATIST. 
 
 T ATER on, Lady Laura was telling friends how she was now 
 expecting her relative, Sir Hopkins Pocock, C.B., late gover- 
 nor of certain colonies Prince Rupert's Island it might have been 
 a gentleman whose profession was Governing, and who was 
 now moving round pleasantly from one Governing station to 
 
3 li Never Forgotten. 
 
 the other. He was not unknown, for it was he who, after long 
 and harassing boundary wars, had concluded the famous treaty 
 with the Waipiti tribe. Before this diplomatic triumph he had 
 been in the Indies, and was said to have collected wealth. 
 Waiting now till he should begin Governing again and there 
 was to be a vacancy in a few months he was coming to Nice 
 for some trifling repairs. 
 
 She had discounted him in advance. At languid little teas, 
 at the furious Dervish dances of Major Brown, she menaced 
 them with her relative, flourished him in the air, brought him 
 down on them at intervals like the lash of a whip. Finally, at 
 on of the little parties organised for the purpose, she discharged 
 him among them as if he were a cartridge. These select per- 
 sons were taken into custody, as it were, led off to be introduced 
 to "my relative/' Sir Hopkins Pocock, and found themselves 
 bowing before an exceedingly tight and clean-made little man, 
 whose clothes were dapper and clean-made too, and rather spare 
 as to their material, so as to give no undue advantage to diplo- 
 matists on the other side. He had a round pink head, pierced 
 for two small twinkling eyes; cheeks, lips, chin, and throat, 
 shaven away right and left, as if, again, to leave nothing that 
 could afford a ready purchase to the opposing diplomatist. Over 
 him was a general air of perkiness, with a special air of perk 
 in his nose, in his chin, and in the front portion of his 
 lips, which he brought to regular points. 
 
 He had a marvellous fluency, and five minutes after the com- 
 pany had assembled, his talking was trickling smoothly over two 
 or three gentlemen on the rug, like oil from the thin spout of 
 an engine-driver's can. He illustrated this stream with perks, 
 and put himself through all the gentle spasms of a Robin. Such 
 an opportunity being not likely to recur, they had got him on 
 the state of Europe, and on the schemes of designing powers, 
 and the conversational oil was flowing very freely indeed. 
 
 He would illustrate it, he said, by a matter that came within 
 his own experience (oil-can to Major Brown) when he was busy 
 concluding that treaty, which they might have heard of, with 
 the Waipiti tribe. He had had the honour of finally determin- 
 ing the great boundary question. Mind, he did not accept 
 the foolish stories then current about the Waipiti being -worked 
 by other parties who were pulling the wires. Some pointed to 
 the Omai country j some, to beyond the hills. It would not be 
 betraying a state secret to say, now that the thing is past and 
 gone, that Harboard, Minister for Waste Lands and Marshes, 
 
A Diplomatist. 113 
 
 held this strongly in council ; so did Bond (afterwards Premier), 
 who went out on the squatter question. But he (turning the 
 oil with a jerk on to Brown) simply said, "Wait simply wait." 
 No groping in the dark. And what was his principle ? People at 
 home, and people abroad, and people generally, still wondered what 
 was the secret instrument he had used in composing these Waipiti 
 troubles. Other governments and other governors had tried 
 before him, and no discredit to them had failed. And why? 
 Simply because they ignored this obvious principle : " Never 
 seem to want what you want." There was the whole of it. 
 The world was welcome to know it. The result was, he be- 
 lieved, pretty well known at home and abroad. Upon his word, 
 that was the whole secret history of the transaction. He was 
 glad it should be known. And the whole concluded with a 
 general sprinkle of oil over all as from the rose of a water- 
 ing-pot. Th constituents of the group might be changed, but 
 the conversation trickled on. Lady Laura looked on with pride, 
 brought up young Gulliver and younger Lord Woodleigh, most 
 unsuitable objects, but who were at once oiled abundantly. 
 
 In this retirement, and waiting a promised vacancy in one of 
 the Indian provinces, Sir Hopkins Pocock received unusual local 
 honours. The maire and syndics called on him : he walked in 
 a diplomatic cloud, and aired the Waipiti question for thern. 
 He kept his little diplomatic tools from rusting by practice in 
 drawing-rooms and other places, putting on his Government 
 House manner as if it were his uniform, and laying his head on 
 one side in the Robin attitude, when any one was bold enough 
 to utter a long sentence. 
 
 He often talked with Lady Laura over her son Charles. He 
 had had a sort of liking for Charles when a boy, really surprising 
 in one into whose system a bundle of despatches had got intro- 
 duced instead of a heart. He had wished that he should be put 
 to diplomacy, but at that time he had not made his Indian 
 money, and his wishes naturally did not carry the weight with 
 them they now did. Lady Laura often bitterly bewailed it to 
 him. " We should have made an attache of him, indeed we 
 should," she said, penitently. "But I must say we never knew 
 poor Thornton and I that you so wished it." 
 
 The diplomatist rubbed his ringers gleefully, perked his head 
 on one side as if he were going to pick up caraway-seeds, and said : 
 
 " You were not wanted to know, my dear Laura; there was 
 my policy, you see. One of my little secrets has been, neve* 
 seem to want what you do want. Do you understand .' " 
 
U4 Never Fcr gotten. 
 
 Lady Laura was confounded at the discovery of this powerful 
 engine; but she did not remark to him that it had broken down 
 in that particular instance. 
 
 " However," continued he, "we shall get him a better pro- 
 fession marry him off, when I am at Government House, in 
 my Indian district. He shall come with me as secretary, aide- 
 de-camp, or something of that sort. We shall get him a Rajah' a 
 daughter a Nabob's child with half a million of rupees. 
 Leave it all to me." 
 
 Sir Hopkins came back to that subject often, and planned it 
 nsanutely. Lady Laura welcomed it with delight, for Sir Hop- 
 kins had been too hopelessly abandoned to diplomacy to marry, 
 and this really looked like adoption. She had often thought of 
 her son's offering himself for marriage in the City, only that 
 such a scheme, coming from her to him, would be hopeless. 
 In the hands of a trained diplomatist, it was likely to have 
 different results. Meanwhile, the refitting was going forward, 
 and the diplomatist was getting on new sheathing, and being 
 fresh riveted all through. Every day he sent away many letters, 
 which he found a pleasure in ingeniously shaping as much like 
 despatches as possible. He said he was "feeling his way," and, 
 judging from the many times he wrote, the feeling must have 
 been on a very extensive scale, and the way of enormous length. 
 
 It was now near the end of the season. The brave enduring 
 mother had led her fair squadron, again and again, to the front, 
 and, though unable to break the enemy's line, had never lost 
 courage. Soon the daylight would be gone, and there would 
 be no light left to fight by. To do them justice, they, too, 
 did not falter, but came on again and again, being so well led. 
 Yet it seemed all idle. The two youths had all tl?3 training 
 of old Machiavellians. They were almost affectionate in their 
 bearing these young traitors. They gambolled about the 
 premises like young dogs ate in a friendly way off the family 
 board at dinner and supper-time. They suffered themselves to 
 be led about on brotherly terms. And yet, one day, young 
 Gulliver, helping himself as he spoke to the family sherry, 
 announced gaily to the girls a pleasant bit of news, at which 
 they should all rejoice. 
 
 "Do you know," he said, "we're to be off in a few days. 
 The governor's relented at last, and I am so glad. Woodleigh's 
 been dying to go this age, and so have I. I can tell you, we're 
 going to have a jolly time of it now. Do you know, we have 
 been getting greatly bored here." 
 
A Diplomatist. jij 
 
 A ghastly smile showed the two girls' appreciation of the 
 news. But Lady Laura had not forgotten to train their muscles, 
 as she had all other points about them. 
 
 " How pleasant ! " they said. 
 
 "Ain't it jolly?" said the youth. "I am counting the hours 
 till we get off. Woodleigh's got an invitation to a house in 
 Ireland filled with pretty girls on draught ha ! ha ! and he's 
 to take me! Jolly!" 
 
 The mother received the news of how the labour of months 
 had been swept away like an embankment by a violent storm 
 without even a twitch in her face. 
 
 " It is pleasant/' she said, " getting away at this time. And 
 when did they go? They would all miss them so." No one 
 could have guessed the stab which this true Spartan felt at her 
 heart. 
 
 For the first time, Lady Laura had begun to feel a sense of 
 hopelessness, coupled with the idea that she was only rolling 
 rocks up hills like a fashionable Sisyphus. Latterly, her mind 
 had begun to travel over in the direction of her son Charles. 
 She talked a good deal with the diplomatist on his schemes. 
 "Leave it to me," said that wily negotiator. "I should like 
 nothing bettter. /shall manage. But we must have no forcing 
 it on, no eagerness. Old Governor Baines tried that with the 
 Waipiti tribe, and we all know how it ended. He put on his 
 blue and gold, and went down to them with a flourish. I said 
 how it would be when I heard it. No, no, my good Laura 
 leave it to me." 
 
 "But couldn't we get him over here?" said Laura, anxiously, 
 " At such a distance " 
 
 "Now, do leave it to me," said Sir Hopkins; and for the 
 present it was left to him. 
 
 The idea, however, took violent hold of Lady Laura Fermor. 
 She began to turn from the three "hopeless and helpless" 
 daughters, whom no labour, or pains, or propping, or "shoring 
 up," could do anything for. She often thought, that if she 
 herself had had but a quarter of such advantages, what splendid 
 results would have been achieved. As it was, she had had to 
 work for herself. 
 
 Yet they went through the old routine. They dressed and 
 decorated themselves, and set out for the shows, and their 
 faithful officer, with her old "hault courage," went with them. 
 
 On one of these occasions, the Prefet of the Hotel de Ville was 
 giving an entertainment a high festival that had been talked 
 
Ii6 Never Forgotten. 
 
 of for some weeks in advance. New ladies' uniforms had been 
 ordered, and new flowers, and even new ladies' faces. The busy 
 clink of armourers was heard on all sides. The girls, rallying a 
 little, took on many hands, and laboured earnestly. Hope was 
 the last of the virtues that was to flutter away from the little 
 chambers in the Ponchettes, 
 
 CHAPTER THE TWENTY-FIFTH. 
 
 NEWS FROM HOME. 
 
 /~4N the night of the festival, the young ladies Fermor took a 
 long while to dress. Lady Laura had finished her dressing 
 early, as she always did, and her gaunt worn figure was hung 
 with rich stuffs, just as they hang the aged stones of Temple-bar 
 on a royal visit to the City. She was sitting waiting with her 
 relation, dressed also, and they were both discussing Charles. 
 
 The English mail had been late, and was just brought in. A 
 small despatch for the diplomatist, which he flung himself updn 
 and tore with his talons 5 two or three ladylike letters for the 
 family, in shape like enlarged visiting-cards. One was in Fer- 
 rnor's writing. 
 
 "A letter from Charles," said Lady Laura, with something 
 like enthusiasm 5 " now we shall see what he is to do." 
 
 "Well," said Sir Hopkins, glancing over the letter he also 
 had received, " that is so far satisfactory Old Seymour is likely 
 to go to move on, as he should have done long ago. What 
 did 1 tell you ? / know how to deal with these .sort of people. 
 Well, what does Mr. Charles say?" 
 
 The answer was something like a scream. The tall gaunt 
 woman, in all her finery, had fallen back on the sofa. For a 
 moment he thought she was in a fit, but he was well accustomed 
 to the Waipiti cries and war-dances. With true diplomatic 
 instinct, he went over on tiptoe for which there was no need 
 and closed the door softly. He was more alarmed about the 
 letter, for he was sure that Charles was dying or dead. 
 
 The next moment she had started into a sort of galvanic life. 
 ff Think of it!" she said, "only think of him ; it is dreadful, 
 isn't it ? Oh, that such a blow should come upon me !" 
 
 Sir Hopkins made attempts to secure the letter for his own 
 reading, but she was brandishing it hysterically. " Gambled/' 
 
News from Home. i 1 7 
 
 thought the diplomatist. "The fellow has gambled, and lost 
 every sixpence. Shan't pay a florin for him, though." 
 
 "Such a disgrace to bring on us all! He must be mad. 
 Does he want to ruin us ? What have we done to him that he 
 should degrade us in this way? One blow after another! I 
 am sure we had troubles enough of oar own without that '" 
 
 Again the diplomatist tried ineffectually for the letter. "Mar- 
 ried an innkeeper's daughter," he thought, bitterly. "A fool! 
 I have done with him. Let me see what he writes, Laura." 
 
 " You know," she said, swaying herself back and forward, 
 "what we reckoned on from him ! You know how we talked, 
 and what we were to make of him. Now that these girls have 
 failed so wretchedly, he was the only thing we had to look to. 
 And the air with which he writes it to me, as if he were 
 getting a princess ! " 
 
 "It is the innkeeper's daughter," thought the diplomatist; 
 and she now let him take the letter. He got out his silver 
 double glass, which hung about his neck like an amulet, and 
 read it carefully. 
 
 It was our friend's skilful composition, breaking the news of 
 his proceedings. It is plain that he had sadly miscalculated its 
 effect. Carefully worded as it was, it had not made this raging 
 mother and cold diplomatist see the thing in the light he fancied 
 it would. He thought his words were sure to be as soothing as 
 drops of camphor-julep. Poor Fermor ! so much rhetoric ex- 
 pended like blank cartridges. 
 
 Lady Laura waited while the diplomatist read, her sunk 
 flattened chest heaving outwards like a decayed wall about to 
 fall in. Into her worn and faded cheek colour had actually 
 forced its way, a visitor long estranged. Sir Hopkins read 
 through Fermor's philosophical composition. The embossed 
 and initialled document began : 
 
 "My DEAR MOTHER, I wish to communicate a little matter, 
 which I dare say may surprise you. Not that there is anything 
 astonishing in what I am about to do, for it is a step which I 
 and every man, who proposes seriously to take his proper station 
 in the commonwealth, must eventually take. The idea, my 
 
n8 Never Forgotten, 
 
 dear mother, of a long life spent selfishly in administering to 
 oneself, in doing nothing for others, and, above all, the notion 
 of leaving no more mark of one's path behind them than if it 
 were made on the sea, this is what I never could bear to look 
 forward to. I shrink from it, and always have shrunk from it. 
 Your true gentleman will live for others as well as for himself, 
 and will bequeath his name in trust to those who have a legiti- 
 mate interest in guarding it free from speck or stain. 
 
 " In these views, I now merely write to say I am about to 
 marry. Ordinary boys would, of course, dilate on the charms 
 of the person they had chosen. I know you too well to indulge 
 in rhapsodies of that kind. But this much I may say : she will 
 be no discredit to our family. She is a Miss Manuel, of a half 
 Spanish family. T think her charming ; but she will make an 
 excellent wife, which is the real point to look at. I do not 
 enter into details now, as it is so late (or early, perhaps), but I 
 lose no time in communicating to you news of this important 
 step, which I almost assume you will approve of. You shall 
 hear again to-morrow. 
 
 " Your affectionate Son, 
 
 " CHARLES FERMOR.' 
 
 "Well? " said Lady Laura when he had done. " Is not this 
 charming news ? It is deplorable ! But I give up. I can't go 
 on any more. I am sick and weary of the whole business. Let 
 them all do as they please marry out of the street, if they will." 
 And the veteran lady, utterly beaten and baffled, seemed to 
 'bend up and collapse physically, just as all her hopes had done 
 : already. 
 
 The diplomatist got to the end of the letter much relieved, 
 .yet there was a shade of disappointment on his face at his divi- 
 nation having broken down. The penetration that had pierced 
 to the bottom of the savage nature of the Waipitis, was infallibly 
 certain as to the innkeeper's daughter. He shook his head 
 slowly at it, as if it were the water-trough of his cage, then laid 
 his head on one side, then on the other. 
 
 " Stupid fellow ! " he said at last, tranquilly 5 "I thought he 
 had more sense." 
 
 "And what shall we say to him ? " said Lady Laura, suddenly 
 'standing up, very fiercely. " Write to him and tell him never 
 to come into my presence again ? Tramp round, he and his 
 low wife, from barrack to barrack until they starve ! Not one 
 
News from Home. 1 1 
 
 farthing shall he ever have from me again ! And, Cousin 
 Pocock, promise me that you will never let him have a sixpence 
 of yours." For a dozen years back Lady Laura Fermor had 
 never been so excited. 
 
 Sir Hopkins was smiling to himself all this while. An idea 
 had struck him. His eyes twinkled. " Never see him again," 
 he said. " We shall see him very often, I hope. No, no, things 
 are not so bad. I don't take this gloomy view at all. A skilful 
 negotiator would very soon restore the status quo ante" 
 
 " I don't w r ant to restore anything," said Lady Laura. " You 
 don't know him. He will never listen to reason " 
 
 "Except to his own," said the diplomatist. "The most suit- 
 able disposition in the world for working on. I recollect the 
 old Waipiti chief " 
 
 " Yes, yes," said Lady Laura, a little impatiently. " I know 
 that. But it will be no use. As a boy, he was the same $ as a 
 young man, he was the same ; he will always be the same* Let 
 him take his own way. They talk of those women that make 
 the shirts; but what has my life been? All disappointments 
 and trouble, crossed in every way. I can do nothing with any 
 of them : and so I give it up now." 
 
 "That's the way with you women," said he, rubbing his 
 hands, and looking into the stove ; " you give up when we begin. 
 This foolish Charles ! Never mind, we shall see what can be 
 done to-morrow. Ah ! here we come at last ! " and the girls 
 came "swelling" in, like two yachts, with all their finery 
 spread, and a maid coasting behind with a spare sail or so on her 
 arm. 
 
 They did not notice their mother's shrunk and woful face ; 
 there were some final touches to be given, In the carriage she 
 broke out with the story that night's mail had brought her. 
 " Your brother is making a fine fool of himself! Go to some- 
 body I wish to Heaven you would and leave me here. I am 
 tired of you all. I am sick of the world. I have done what I 
 could for you. Only let him write me one of his hypocritical 
 letters when he wants money ! I, that have always scraped, 
 and pinched, and denied myself, to keep him up in his proper 
 station ! " 
 
 It was a dismal progress in that dark carriage. The girls had 
 been a little excited by the hope of this party, though indeed, by 
 this time, it should have been monotonous. This news came on 
 them with a chill. Their hearts felt tight even under the stiff* 
 silk armour, which the maid Jane had tightened with many 
 
126 Nevier Forgotten* 
 
 struggles. Suddenly came the lights and the music of the 
 tf dance," seen and heard through the open drawing-room. As 
 though a fashionable sergeant had called out " Attention ! " 
 they fell into regular line, fans were "ordered/' smiles and 
 general happiness mounted to their faces ; they bent and 
 swayed, shook kid-covered hands, were so glad, and so sorry, and 
 alarmed at being late ; and were so smiling and delighted, that 
 the idea was conveyed that by impediments they had been kept 
 away from this delicious retreat, and had at last given their 
 jailers the slip. They had put on their smiles with their gloves. 
 The ugly family nightmare just heard of they thrust down, 
 though it would fly open at times in the midst of a valse, like a 
 jack-in-the-box. Lady Laura Fermor "taken down" for an 
 ice by Mr. Monkhouse, M.P., who was getting his chest 
 "shored up " at Nice, was rallied by her in the gayest manner, 
 on a rumour of marriage. He was a tall, florid bachelor, very 
 red, and much tightened about the throat, and, as he looked at 
 her sideways with relish and admiration, his collar and necktie 
 seemed to fit about his throat as a frill of paper does about a 
 ham. In one of her laughs of appreciation the box flew open, 
 and the sight of the "jack " almost sobered her, but she had it 
 wired down in a second. 
 
 So, too, with her daughters. They ambled round in a galop 
 and valse : the elder in the arms of a " delightful French 
 officer," with a figure like an hour-glass. So with her sister, 
 who did a little quiet unostentatious work with a young English 
 gentleman. They went apart from the world, and opened a 
 little "store " in a greenhouse among the plants. Stupid single 
 men who knew nobody, blundered on them here in the desert, 
 as it were and hastily retreated. 
 
 It came to the end when Lady Laura sounded the "rappel." 
 Then came the gush of farewell smiles, general delight and 
 grief: an evening to look back to. Mr. Monkhouse, M.P., 
 took out Lady Laura, and looked fondly after her out of his 
 paper ham frill, as she drove away. She shook her fan at him 
 with gay menace. But as he was in the supper-room telling 
 Fobley what "a fine woman" he had just taken out, all the 
 springs had relaxed, and the "fine woman's" face had sunk, 
 and dropped, and fallen into hollows. Not a word was spoken 
 during that mourning-coach progress. 
 
 That very night, before she went to bed (a form she went 
 through from mere habit), Lady Laura got out her desk and 
 wrote to her son all in fact that had passed through her mind 
 
An Invitation. 121 
 
 that night. He was to take his own way ruin himself if be 
 pleased, ruin them, ruin everybody. By all means take his owa 
 way. She was sick of the whole business. God knows, she had 
 had a weary time of it with the whole set. However, this she 
 begged, that he would never again trouble her by letter or other- 
 wise. She* then read it over with satisfaction, as though she were 
 delivering it to him in person. In the morning, when Sir 
 Hopkins came, she took him aside privately, and showed it. 
 "There," she said, "it will be a satisfaction to my mind to 
 have sent him that." 
 
 He read it smiling, sat down, talked to her a good hour, 
 talked of the Waipiti now and then, and finally wrote a short 
 note, which she copied. Hers lay in pieces under the English 
 grate. It ran 
 
 "Nice. 
 
 " MY DEAR CHARLES, Your letter was indeed a surprise. I 
 hope you have not been a little hasty. However, if you are 
 irretrievably committed, you must of course go through with it. 
 You shall see us before long, as the air of this place someway 
 does not suit Alicia Mary. I shall let you know when we shall 
 be in London, where I hope you will try and meet us, 
 
 " Your affectionate Mother, 
 
 " LAURA FERMOR." 
 
 CHAPTER THE TWENTY-SIXTH. 
 
 AN INVITATION. 
 
 rFHE lectures on Roger le Gar9on were suspended by more 
 absorbing matter. His head was full of the incidents of 
 his new dignity , everyone was carrying up, as it were, Ad- 
 dresses to the Throne, and he had to deliver Gracious Replies. 
 His hands, too, were full enough, and he was very busy in the 
 mornings writing prettily-turned notes to many acquaintance, 
 male and female, and the turn was sometimes sad, sometimes 
 humorous. "You will be concerned, dear Mrs. Fazakerly," he 
 wrote, " to hear of my approaching dissolution." Which little 
 metaphor was worked pleasantly to the bottom of the first page, 
 'You have always, dear Miss B'iddulph, felt such an interest in 
 anything that concerns my happiness, I cannot let a post go by 
 
122 Never Forgotten. 
 
 without/' &c. This was the serious and plaintive style. Aftei 
 all, there was something exciting in being married. 
 
 He was busy in this way one morning, some ten days after 
 Major Carter's party, when his door was opened, and his cast- 
 iron neighbour swung in as a crane swings round close on the 
 servant, who would have announced him. " Sit down, Mr. 
 Carlay, said Fermor, affably ; " I am glad to see you. ' 
 
 "And I am glad to hear you say so," said the other, "I 
 was thinking something might have been done to offend you. : ' 
 
 "Dear no! " said Fermor, gravely. " I hope there has been 
 nothing in my conduct which a gentleman would not sanction. 
 Oh ! you are thinking of my unexplained absence ? I see ! 
 Ah, there were reasons for that. I must tell you," continued 
 he, with something like a simper. " By the way, Miss Carlay 
 1 hope she is improving ? " 
 
 "Better, thank, you," said the other, rising suddenly. "I am 
 not a man for seeing the world, or for managing it, and have no 
 wish to learn how; therefore, if I do things in a rough abrupt 
 fashion of my own, you must excuse me." 
 
 " Certainly, certainly," said Fermor. " Now I have knocked 
 about the world a pretty good time, and am used to that kind of 
 thing." 
 
 " Because, if you would not mind taking us as we are, in the 
 backwoods, as I may say, and putting up with roughness in 
 short, would you dine with us to-day?'' 
 
 Fermor started. This was a true surprise. But in a moment 
 he saw the secret springs that were working. It was very, very 
 odd. This was always to be the result of his presence. He had 
 not intended to be more than gentlemanly his common man- 
 ner he had not, indeed. Could he help it ? Of a sudden he 
 became gracious and courtly. He would have the greatest plea- 
 sure. He really liked that sort of thing, no fuss, or state ; 
 "provided," added Fermor, "you treat me as one of the 
 family, mind. There, at the mess, they have got a Frenchman, 
 who lived with Count Walewski. I believe, in his own line, he 
 is worth his weight in gold; but, on my word and honour," 
 Fermor added, earnestly, " I would sooner sit down to a mutton- 
 chop a well-done mutton-chop and a pint of sherry, than a 
 dozen courses of his ragouts." 
 
 With this little profession of faith, which he threw in gratu- 
 itously, he sent away his visitor. During the day he thought 
 pleasantly over the prospect, and laid out how he would amuse 
 them by some new phenomena of his personality. He dressed 
 
An Invitation. 113 
 
 himself with effec;, set a freshly-pulled gentleman's bouquet in 
 his coat, and at the fixed hour he and his TO cyco ascended the stairs 
 together, and were announced. 
 
 He was astonished to see what an elegant looking room it 
 was, and to find that the furniture was not of rude cast-iron, nor 
 of unhewn wood. Miss Carlay was there, but not, as in the 
 garden, propped up with pillows. Almost as soon as he had 
 shaken hands, Fermor had started with his graceful garrulity. 
 
 "I can see a marked improvement," he said. "I am not at 
 all surprised. The doctors, you know, are beginning to send 
 people here, /find myself better. I am one of those people 
 that feel every breath of air. In fact, I am an animated baro- 
 meter, a human aneroid." As soon as he entered, Mr. Carlay, 
 in a grim dinner coat cut out of sheet-iron, and new black 
 trousers, like short lengths of an iron water-main, had drawn off, 
 and was walking up and down at the other end of the room. 
 In Miss Carlay a faint tinge of colour, and the manner which is 
 peculiar to delicacy, made her appear very interesting to 
 Fermor. 
 
 They went down to dinner. A small round table, a little graceful 
 silver, a little glass, as graceful in shape and pattern, and flowers. No 
 iron ore, as Fermor had almost expected. It was surprising. Every- 
 thing was good, and tasteful, and hot; with claret too, Fermor's 
 favourite wine. He was much pleased, became much surprised, 
 and to reward them put spurs to the TO eyw. Now was the time 
 they should share in his good fortune. "By the way," he 
 said, " I have a little bit of news, which I dare say will take you 
 by surprise. Perhaps it is no news, and perhaps you have heard 
 it; and perhaps, again, it is scarcely worth the name of news, 
 and you would not care to hear it." He waited for deserved 
 applause for this ingenious way of putting the thing, and got it. 
 The young lady welcomed everything he said ; not indeed with 
 words, but with silence, which to him was golden, and, there- 
 fore, far better. 
 
 "Did you not hear? They are going to marry me I" he 
 said, looking round and smiling. 
 
 Mr. Carlay gave a grim and sudden jerk, which in another 
 would have been a start. Fermor, who had his eye on the 
 daughter, saw, to his real astonishment, a flutter not a start 
 and colour. 
 
 "Yes," said Fermor, speaking of himself as of another person, 
 and as if he were helpless in the hands of some one else. tf The 
 thing, I believe, is appointed for everyone, like death it is only 
 
124 Never Forgotten. 
 
 a question of time. My dissolution has been coming on gradu- 
 ally : so I only wrap my robe gracefully about my head, and fall 
 down pierced with many wounds. Of course I should be glad, 
 and yet I feel sorry. I should like it to be delayed a little 
 perhaps not to come off at all. She is charming, and too good 
 for me : but who can tell how these things turn out ? It is 
 quite a lottery all a lottery." This gracious apology so con- 
 siderately made seemed to do little good. 
 
 But he could not but observe the confusion his sudden news 
 had caused. Miss Carlay's eyes were on her plate, and she was 
 making a pretence of eating very fast. For the rest of the time 
 she scarcely spoke at all, and very early fled away. Her father 
 rolled his eyes grimly, and gave out a word now and again, like 
 the sound of rusty machinery in motion. But Fermor, in great 
 spirits, let his talk whirl round like the fly-wheel of an engine. 
 He told afterwards he never had such a dreadful duty cast on 
 him as the struggling against the sense of that oppressive man, 
 who would not talk. " I might as well have been in a room by 
 myself," he said to Young Brett, "speaking to the epergne. 
 Such a moody soul as it was." Finally, Mr. Carlay pushed back 
 his chair roughly, and got up. 
 
 " Ah, join the ladies/' said Fermor, " or lady, eh ?" 
 "We have ways of our own here," said the other, standing at 
 the door. "We are early persons. We do not join the ladies, 
 or carry out that sort of thing. My daughter is not nearly strong 
 enough, so you will excuse us, please." 
 
 In fact, at that moment a maid came down with a message. 
 Miss Carlay was not very well, and could not appear again. 
 "You see," said Mr. Carlay, now in the hall. "We are not 
 suited for company and its forms, and must take our chance of 
 
 being considered behind the times. So " 
 
 He had opened the hall door. Fermor felt himself, in fact, 
 morally taken by the shoulders and put out. He went down 
 the steps chafing. "This is bat the usual thing," he said. "I own I 
 deserve it. This comes of going down into a lower rank. And 
 really," he added, with a wounded air, to himself, " after all I said, 
 
 and the way I exerted myself " Still, it was a grateful subject 
 
 to think how oddly the news of his "happiness" had been received. 
 That poor, soft, good-natured girl it did seem as if it had over- 
 whelmed her, As for her father, he was a common ploughman. 
 In fact, he would go in and see her in the morning, encourage 
 her, smooth her soft hair (morally speaking), and console her. 
 The next morning, which was sunny and without a breath of 
 
An Invitation. I2j 
 
 air abroad, he looked out from his back window. The usual 
 picture was not to be seen: neither the young girl, nor the arm- 
 chair, nor the pillows, nor the maid holding the parasol like an 
 Indian servant. Later in the day, he set his decorators and up- 
 holsterers to work, fitted himself up with great nicety, and went 
 in to call. He had not lectured on Roger le Gargon for a long 
 time 
 
 "Miss Carlay in?" he said, almost passing the servant, as a 
 matter of course. But he was told bluntly " No." (This maid 
 was not of the class who thought him "a lovely young man.") 
 He retired much disgusted, and took down all his fine hangings 
 and upholstery. Two days after he called again, feeling a 
 strange longing to say something on Roger le Gargon, but again 
 was not admitted. Yet he had seen the young girl in the gar- 
 den that morning. He was furious. It was all that low engine- 
 driver, stoker, ploughman that anything her father. That 
 poor soft girl was tyrannised over, and could not resist. How- 
 ever, now he had a fair excuse for " cutting the whole concern 
 tout la boutique." The course on Roger le Garon was sus- 
 pended, and the lecturer himself "interdicted." He had, how- 
 ever, laid out for himself the pleasant pastime of "forming 
 Violet's mind." With this view, he used to converse with her 
 a good deal upon the phenomenon of his own mind. In this 
 department 6f psychology he was very fluent. Violet, in a 
 devotee attitude, with her soft eyes fixed on her master, tried 
 hard to follow, and, curious to say, her lecturer seemed better 
 pleased when he could not be followed than when he was sud- 
 denly halted and eagerly shown that he was understood. He 
 did not, however, include the rest of the family in his lectures. 
 
 From the very first day after Major Carter's party, he had 
 suddenly drawn the line, as he called it, and erected strong 
 barriers between the rest of the family and himself. "Though 
 I take the daughter," he said, "I do not, on that account, marry 
 the whole family. She is absorbed into ours. I don't want her 
 to bring them with her. No ! no !" And to her he said privately, 
 "My dear Yiolet, you are charming, as of course, and what I 
 think of you, I have shown. But I must really protest against 
 your relations that is, against taking them en masse. It may 
 be very well now, but I do sincerely hope they may be got to 
 understand the footing I desire to have them on. Now I must 
 say, coming home the other day and finding them all in a carriage 
 at the door, and that wild brother of yours in the hall " 
 
 ^Indeed'* interrupted Violet, piteously (she s.omeway never 
 
126 Never Forgotten, 
 
 could gain courage to call him Charles, and therefore nevef 
 called him by any name), " indeed they meant it well, and 
 Pauline and Louis were against it, but mamma said you would 
 think it so rude if they did not call on you." 
 
 "And why," said Fermor, with a curious want of logic, 
 " should they be so violent against so common an act of courtesy ) 
 To tell you the truth, my dear Violet, I don't like your brother, 
 and you must not be angry with me for telling you." 
 
 "Oh no, no," said Violet. 
 
 "I can't help it, and I can't give a distinct reason for it> no 
 more than I can for not liking cucumbers or beef, or any other 
 of the strong things. He is the cucumber of your family," he 
 added, smiling, and wishing to reward her attention by the 
 present of a little jest. She laughed and enjoyed it, as she 
 enjoyed everything he meant to be enjoyed. 
 
 " Now," said he, " suppose we go back to lessons." That is, 
 to the personal psychology. He turned on a little jet, and the 
 personal experiences began to flow on steadily. 
 
 "Many people say I have a cold manner, and further think, 
 because I have a cold manner, I must be cold. Does it follow ? 
 The fact is, I don't care to be enthusiastic, at least not about 
 everything. It is not my nature, and yet perhaps it may be. 
 Perhaps I feel that if I were to give way to it I would become 
 all enthusiasm, and froth away like a bottle of champagne left 
 open accidentally. Very strange. Now, what would you say?" 
 
 A dreadfully embarrassing question for the shy little witness 
 under examination. And, indeed, any expert even would have 
 found it hard to have extracted any plain positive theory out of 
 Captain Fermor's contradictory speculation. Most likely he did 
 not wish her, for he shook his head over her, smiling. 
 
 " No, no," he said. "It is not every one that can follow me. 
 I am like a Chaldee manuscript. It would take years of patient 
 labour to find the key." And so, with a hailstorm of "I, I, I," 
 the personal narrative flowed on for twenty minutes more. 
 Violet listened with soft and dilated eyes, trying hard to keep 
 up with his broader stride, and, to say the truth, was a little 
 fatigued. But all this while we can understand how her mind 
 was being "formed." 
 
 Young Brett, that good boy, had been in and out with him 
 all through the most faithful of faithful terriers. Fermor really 
 began to like him, and actually once or twice shifted a dreadfully 
 sarcastic "snub " on to the head of his own man. With a little 
 adaptation it did just as well. Young Brett had been up and 
 
An Invitation. 127 
 
 down to Town with mystery and meaning, and finally burst 
 upon Fermor with a superb fire-arm, breech-loading, silver 
 mounted, with needle and the rest of it reposing, too, in a 
 luxurious couch of green velvet, where it would be exceedingly 
 warm during the winter nights. Poor child, he had the Indian 
 notion about a weapon of this sort, and would have given all the 
 skins, furs, and cowries he was worth for a rifle and powder and 
 shot, considering that human happiness, riches, comfort, and 
 amusement, lay packed in a gun-case. 
 
 Fermor received this marriage offering in a very kindly 
 manner, turning it over graciously after a short inspection, 
 ringing for his man to take it away into his bedroom. This was 
 very much from him. For presents were one of his grievances. 
 "People encumber you with them," he said, in one of his comic 
 pocket definitions, " something you do not want, to be repaid 
 by something you cannot afford. That is my idea," he said. 
 
 But he took Little Brett with him, as it were upon his staff, 
 to see the Manuels pretty often, and sent that honest boy to 
 them as often, when he was not in the vein to go himself. The 
 family liked the sight of his white hair and his free speech. He 
 secretly admired both, more particularly the elder girl, who was 
 "splendid, by Jove !" He would have liked to have given her 
 a gun. He saw they liked hearing about Fermor, and "rattled " 
 away vivaciously on that pleasant theme. He spoke of him 
 always with the deepest reverence and pride. "I believe," he 
 said, " I am about the only fellow he likes among them all. 
 He never told me so, but I think so. Oh, he is wonderful ! sucn 
 knowledge of the world, such quietness, such ease. I would 
 give anything" (the image of his favourite breech-loader rising 
 before him) " to have something like it ! He says it is training; 
 that he has trained himself. Oh, it is wonderful ! He can do 
 what he likes with people," he went on. "There is an old 
 cynic next door to him, with a daughter I should be afraid to 
 look at him with an opera-glass. But he has got round him - 
 has the run of the house, I may say. Oh, it is wonderful!" 
 
 The girls became interested. These were the times of the 
 lectures upon Roger le Garden. 
 
 "And who are these people ?" said Pauline. 
 
 " Oh, a fellow like a tall schoolmaster. I know he scared me 
 out of all my senses. But Fermor knows how to tame every 
 one. He made Fermor dine with him the other day." 
 
 "And the daughter?" said Violet, anxiously. 
 
 " A nice soft creature, that sits in a chair/' said Young Brett, 
 
128 Never Forgotten. 
 
 rapturously, as if this last attitude were one of her virtues : " so 
 delicate and gentle, and, by Jove ! so grateful when Fermor 
 goes in to see her. He does it very often," continued Young 
 Brett, with great seriousness 5 " out of chanty, like visiting the 
 hospitals, he says." 
 
 Pauline, glancing nervously at her sister, changed the subject, 
 by asking Young Brett how he liked his new gun j and presently 
 Violet, making some vain attempts at doing her work, got up 
 with an impetuous rustle, and fled to her room. Her sister 
 knew these signs of trouble. 
 
 A quarter of an hour afterwards, Pauline found her in sore 
 distress, with two red rims round her bright eyes. " Oh, child, 
 child ! " said she. " I knew you would be fretting yourself with 
 these trifles." 
 
 "I am a child," said the other, bursting out afresh, "and I 
 can't help it. And he knows it, and treats me like one. Oh, 
 Pauline, you were wise and I was foolish. He just thinks of 
 me as he would of his little dog just to amuse him for half an 
 hour. Oh, I am beginning to be very miserable." 
 
 And there was anguish and despair, and the good sister applied 
 the usual soothing lotions, and tranquillised her, as she alone had 
 the power of doing, with the weak liniment of reason. 
 
 CHAPTER THE TWENTY-SEVENTH. 
 
 A LITTLE HEART IN TROUBLE. 
 
 T ATE in the afternoon arrived Fermor the Splendid. He 
 came to "form her mind." He noted the faint red rings 
 and the remains of the dejection. He was soothing and gallant, 
 and encouraging. He comforted and petted with his noble and 
 silvery accents. Her little soul was burning in her to bring him 
 gently to account, but she stood too much in awe of him, and 
 shrank into low spirits. He freezed down any hysterics in a 
 second. 
 
 "A little frowardness," he thought. "Upon my word, I am 
 sorry to see this. I must eradicate it gently but firmly. Violet," 
 he said, gravely, "you are not in your usual spirits to-day, I 
 fancy. No! You can't conceal anything from me. Somebody 
 has put you out a little." 
 
 "JMo, no," said Violet, eagerly. 
 
A Little Heart in Trouble. 
 
 129 
 
 "My dear child, it is written there/' he said, pointing to her 
 face, " in text-hand. It is a great pity to be put out by trifles, 
 for in your little round of life you can only encounter trifles. 
 Now, take me. In the larger tract of life through which / have 
 to walk, what purgatory / should suffer if I let myself be dis- 
 turbed. I might as well give up. Things must master me, or 
 I must master things. I prefer the latter. You should make 
 an exertion, Violet, and it will come after a time." 
 
 Violet cast down her eyes, trembling a little. 
 
 " How will you face the world?" said Fermor. "How will 
 you rough it? for rough it we must, to a certain degree. Or I 
 must rough it for both, I suppose," said Fermor, resignedly. 
 "It will all come on my shoulders." 
 
 " Oh !" said Violet, sorrowfully, "I would not mind that is, 
 I would do I mean anything, if I only thought that is " 
 
 " Well ?" said he, pausing. " Well ? I do not quite follow. 
 Your English, Violet, is rather unconnected. You should tiy 
 and throw your words into the form of a sentence." 
 
 "But when " began Violet, passionately; then stopped 
 
 short, a little scared. 
 
 "Yes?" said Fermor, quite calmly, who thought, as he walked 
 home, how he had played her skilfully, like a little perch at the 
 end of his line. " Let us hear it." 
 
 " Oh, if I thought," said she again, becoming passionate, " that 
 you really cared for me, and loved me! But you don't. No, 
 you don't. Do you? Tell me, now. Do you?" 
 
 Fermor was secretly pleased. She looked really beautiful at 
 that moment. Her cheeks were glowing, her eyes glistening, 
 as if a shower were about to fall, and there was an imploring air 
 about her, an acknowledgment of superior power, and an entreaty 
 for mercy. 
 
 "My poor child," said Fermor, very tenderly, "what have 
 you got into your little head ? Something foreign, I know. 
 Come, tell me. I am not to be taken in, you know. Of course 
 \ like you," he added, graciously. 
 
 "And nobody else? Do you like nobody else?" she said, 
 plaiting the corner of her dress like a little girl stopped and 
 questioned in the street. 
 
 "No one else?" said Fermor, a little surprised. "Why, of 
 course not -, at least, not in the same degree. These are very 
 odd questions." 
 
 " I know, I know," she said, eagerly, " and I should not speak 
 in this way. But you are so run after, and are so clever, it is 
 
Never Forgotten. 
 
 only natural people should ask you into their houses, and listen 
 to you and sit with them in the hospitals whereas I am so 
 foolish and so litle sought, I have only one person to look to. I 
 think of " 
 
 The clouds on Fermor's face drifted away to the right and 
 left. The sun came out. 
 
 "You little, absurd child," he said, with gracious vituperation. 
 " So that is what you are coming to. Because I go in and see 
 a dull old gentleman and a sick girl ? Some of the gossips have 
 been entertaining you, eh ?" 
 
 Violet hung down her head and said nothing. 
 
 "And you have been inflaming your little jealous wits with 
 their stories. Now, if I had not luckily hit on the true state of 
 things, we should have had a combustion and explosion, perhaps, 
 and possibly," Fermor added, with a climax, "a a scene ! As 
 for having a special Act of Parliament passed forbidding conver- 
 sation with ladies, or having a portable wall built round me," 
 continued Fermor, with great humour, "and a sunk fence too 
 wide to be jumped across by young girls, these things, my dear 
 Violet, are not to be thought of in the nineteenth century. Even 
 if they were, they would be absurd." 
 
 Violet smiled, not through tears, but through that little mist 
 which was c efore her bright eyes. 
 
 "You know" she said, repeating her one idea, "you are so 
 superior to me, and know the world 50 deeply, and so wonder- 
 fully. Still, as a favour to me, if you only would " 
 
 "Put up the wall?" said Fermor, gaily, and with smiling en 
 couragement. " Well, it is up. Consider it up from this mo- 
 ment. There!" 
 
 Overpowered by this generosity in impromptu masonry, Violet 
 Humbled herself at her lord's feet, and he raised her good na- 
 turedly; and thus, in general effusions, and with fireworks and 
 Catherine-wheels flying round, the scene closed in. 
 
 But that little heart was restless and troubled; she was scarcely 
 satisfied with the magnificent explanation and the metaphors of 
 the stone wall and Acts of Parliament. Her instinct pierced 
 through all the disguises of " sick girl," " charity," "hospital," 
 and the rest of it. If a "sick girl," perhaps an intereiting girl, 
 And charity was terribly akin to warmer feelings. So, when her 
 grand caliph was gone, she gave way to the gloomiest despon- 
 dency. She was miserable, and there was no happiness on- the 
 wide earth. 
 
 She knew Fermor was gone down to the barracks "to L& 
 
A Little Heart in Trouble. 131 
 
 made a machine of," as he put it drolly, and she knew where 
 Brown's-terrace was. She presently got on her bonnet, the 
 bonnet with the red flower, and that seemed to be made of 
 spiders' webs, and with her little face full of care, tripped away 
 in a guilty sort of fashion. 
 
 At Brown's- terrace she passed hurriedly before the house, 
 scarcely venturing to look at it; then came back, reconnoitring 
 it softly like a vidette. Gradually growing bolder, she got 
 courage for a steady look at the drawing-room windows on each 
 side. She went away, took a short walk, and came back timor- 
 ously, and then saw at one of the windows a girl in an invalid's 
 attitude, with a book which she had been reading on her lap ; 
 and this girl she saw in a second was not " a sick girl " in 
 the sense described, but a very soft and interesting " delicate " 
 creature. 
 
 The colour came to her cheeks again, as, indeed, it did very 
 often in the course of a day. She was indeed plunged into 
 misery. She was thinking how it was now practically "all 
 over/' when she heard Young Brett's voice close beside her, 
 telling her that she would be sure to find Fermor out now, 
 but that if she had any message he would run up to the 
 barracks for him. He was at that moment full of the good 
 nature which is troublesome. Should he knock at the door and 
 see had he by any chance come in ? Very likely he would have 
 called at the Carlay's next door, with whom he was " always in 
 and out." By the way, look ! there was Miss Carlay in the 
 window, and it was a great pity she was so delicate, was it not ? 
 
 Violet, thinking she was now fairly embarked in diplomacy, 
 thought timorously how she would examine this boyish witness. 
 "But he never sees these people latterly, I mean," she said. 
 " I think he said he had given them up." 
 
 Young Brett laughed with all the boisterous, scorn of superior 
 knowledge. " Not he," he said j " they are great friends. He 
 is the best, kindest fellow in the world. He gives up hours of 
 his time to sitting with that poor, pretty invalid. There ! " he 
 said triumphantly, " there's her father ? " And the grim figure 
 stalked down the steps, shut to what was almost part of his flesh 
 and blood the iron gate opened the gate next door, and 
 stalked up Fermor's steps. 
 
 In hopeless confusion she returned home, and spent a troubled 
 night. Poor soul ! she was a child, as Fermor had told her, and 
 she tried hard to comfort herself with his assurance about the 
 stone wall and the sunk fence. Though she knew so little of 
 
132 Never Forgotten. 
 
 the world, she had her hurricanes in a Sevres teacup, and a whole 
 view of the whole world in a stereoscope. 
 
 When Fermor reached home, he found a letter and a piece of 
 news waiting for him. The letter was from Lady Laura Fermor, 
 and his forehead contracted as he looked at it. The piece of 
 news was that Mr. Carlay had called, and his brow cleared 
 again. "On his knees, it seems," he said, gaily. Before he had 
 been in ten minutes, the human casting was stalking into his 
 room once more. Fermor fetched out his coat of supreme in- 
 difference, and got into it as into a paletot. 
 
 " I was here before to-day," said the other. "You were 
 out, it seems." 
 
 Fermor shrugged his shoulders, and the shoulders seemed to 
 say in their own language, " Was cur master obliged to wait at 
 home ? or to be in always, on the chance of your honouring us 
 with a visit? " 
 
 "You have been busy all this week past," continued Mr, 
 Carlay. " Your time has been taken up, I presume ? " 
 
 "I generally contrive that it shall be," said Fermor, carelessly. 
 " I have generally to compress two days' work into one. I like 
 to be busy." This was the idea in his mind, but in reality he 
 never had any of that trouble of compression. " Well," he con- 
 tinued, with a smile. 
 
 The other looked at him steadfastly. " I think," he said, 
 "what has once been begun might as well go on. If one man 
 cares to see another, and has been seeing another for a time, it 
 seems unmeaning that he should suddenly break off without 
 reason. Life is not to be a series of spasms. What have we done r " 
 
 Fermor followed him perfectly. " Of course not," he said. 
 " I hope Miss Carlay is better to-day ? " 
 
 Mr. Carlay rose a little hastily. "I don't know," he said, 
 with really something like agitation ; " she was better, and I 
 thought she was mending. I am too gloomy company. But 
 what can I do ? No one naturally cares to come to our house, 
 and I have not the knack of giving a cheerful welcome ; per- 
 haps contrive to offend, besides. I don't mean it, God knows I 
 don't." 
 
 " You should cheer her up," said Fermor, gaily. 
 
 " I ! " said Mr. Carlay, grimly showing his teeth ; then, with 
 an almost painful effort to give flexibility to the iron about his 
 face, " Ah ! if you would be kind enough to look in at some 
 spare time, and talk a little to her as people of the world tlo. 
 She likes it, I think, and /have long since lost the trick." 
 
A Little Heart in Trout It 13.5 
 
 Fermor smiled: first at the notion of his calling genius n 
 trick; secondly, at the notion of his ever having had it. But 
 the flavour of the homage in the whole transaction was so wel- 
 come, that the message from the throne came couched in the 
 most gracious terms. 
 
 " Would Miss Carlay be able to see people to-morrow ? " he 
 said, as if a new idea had occurred suddenly to him. "Any 
 rate, I will take my chance. I have just got some of Hachette's 
 new things I should like to show her " (i.e. lecture upon). 
 
 Then Mr. Carlay went his way; and Fermor, stretching him- 
 self like a minister who had just given an audience, began to 
 open his mail of letters. There were the usual elements a 
 circular, a bill, an application to be steward at the dinner for 
 Charwomen's Orphans, and the domestic letter. They all 
 received speedy and decent burial in a waste-paper basket under 
 the table, with the exception of Lady Laura's. It was headed 
 " London, Duke's Hotel, Dover-street," which startled him a 
 little, and ran : 
 
 " MY DEAR CHARLES, We are all arrived here safely, after 
 a dreadful journey, which has turned Alicia and Blanche into 
 perfect wrecks. We shall rest here until to-morrow, when we 
 shall set off for Eastport. We are all in a fever of curiosity to 
 see the new girl you have chosen. At least, they are; for I, at 
 this very moment, have a perfect idea of her before me. I 
 always agreed with you in liking those high-bred, tall, classical 
 creatures, cold in their manner, and as well trained to society as 
 soldiers. You are a little cold yourself, my dear Charles, and 
 run a little into the extreme. But it is dc rigueur in a woman. 
 Our relative, Pocock, is coming with us, and in his way is, I sus- 
 pect, as curious as the girls. She must be careful before him, 
 my dear Charles, for, entre nous, he knows men and women like 
 his spelling-book. You will have apartments looked out for us 
 in a genteel situation ; three bedrooms, a sitting-room, and a 
 parlour. 
 
 " Believe me^ your affectionate Mother, 
 
 " LAURA FERMOR.** 
 
 He was chafed and " put out. '* by this letter. " Why should 
 she take all that into her head> " he said. " Does she suppose 
 I am to marry a stalactite ? Not one of them ever understood 
 me. Women always take you literally in everything you say. 
 Now, we shall have a regular exhibition, and I shall have them 
 
1J4 Never Forgotten. 
 
 an staring with eye-glasses at my show." He got up disgusted 
 and walked about. " 1 knew they would be making a fuss I 
 had an instinct of it. Coming over this way, in a mob I Really 
 intolerable ! " And he walked round and round with angry pro- 
 test. " And she," he said, with a stamp, "to be 'cold,' and 
 exhibit training indeed ! " He was now at the very pinnacle of 
 disgust, but at the same time he felt a sudden uncomfortable 
 chill as he thought of how " the girl he had chosen " was not 
 cold, and would behave with rustic warmth among these cold 
 inquirers. 
 
 CHAPTER THE TWENTY-EIGHTH. 
 
 PRESENTED TO THE FERMOR FAMILY. 
 
 morning he was with the Manuels very early, and with 
 a grave face demanded a private interview with Violet. 
 " My relations," he said to her, " are to be here to-morrow, 
 and desire that you should be presented to them. As I need not 
 impress on you how much depends on the first effect you produce 
 on them, I have come to recommend you to be most careful how 
 you behave." 
 
 When she heard this terrible news, Violet felt a shock She 
 had all along anticipated this dreadful ceremonial, and her little 
 heart fluttered as if she had got a summons to the fashionable 
 Council of Ten. If she had known of that fearful tribunal, 
 she would, perhaps, have preferred it. She felt all " blankness 5 " 
 and her little heart sank inwards. 
 
 " Now," said Fermor, become suddenly like her spiritual ad- 
 viser, " this is a more serious thing than you would perhaps 
 imagine. Sit down here, Violet." And he got, her a chair, in 
 which she placed herself, trembling, as if it were a dentist's. 
 " You have not seen so much life," he went on, " and have been 
 brought up differently. They have lived and had their bei.M.o in 
 the highest classes. Fashion is as the air they breathe. Na- 
 turally they are nice and critical, and have a different order of 
 associations. They are very curious to see how you will behave, 
 and how you will turn out; and the question is, how will you 
 behave, and how will you turn out ? Now give me an idea/' 
 
 Violet, who never thought how she would behave before any 
 one in the world, and whose instinct in " acting" was her own 
 
Presented to Inc Fermot Family. 13 j 
 
 simple heart, looked up wistfully at the dentist standing beside 
 her, and said, sadly, " Oh, how can I ? I don't know." 
 
 "Oh," said he, gravely, "but we must try and know. I am 
 sorry to see you don't appreciate how much depends on all this ; 
 you do not, indeed, Violet. I am really nervous about it my- 
 self j for there is a a and I would not say this to you, but for 
 the gravity of the situation a lightness, if I may call it, in your 
 manner, a sort of rusticity, which I know would jar on persons 
 brought up as they have been. This is the rock I dread for 
 you." 
 
 Poor Violet ! whose voyaging had been a graceful pleasure- 
 yacht in the sun and the smoothest of seas, to hear now of 
 "rocks ! " In sore affliction she did not know how to answer. 
 
 "Take time," said Fermor, gravely. 
 
 " Oh," she suggested, after a pause, and raising her eyes to 
 him timorously, " I think if I were to be natural, you know- 
 just myself " 
 
 She stopped, for Fermor started back in alarm. 
 
 " Good gracious ! no ! Not for worlds ! Oh, I see, it is very 
 hard to get you to understand. You have not been trained to 
 think, and it is scarcely your fault. I see how it must end. So 
 we must try and pull through as best we can.'* And having, as 
 it were, extracted the tooth, with a hopeless air he prepared 
 to go. 
 
 Seeing his resignation, and not knowing what to do, she ran 
 to him helplessly. " Oh," she said, " if you would only tell me 
 teach me." 
 
 "Oh no," said Fermor, still resigned. " I have never found 
 that to do. No, we must trust, as you say, to nature. Only I 
 beg, I entreat at least no spirits, no violent bursts of laughter. 
 I know it seems bad to tell you this, but it is all for your own 
 good." 
 
 Poor Violet ! Bursts of laughter before them ! 
 
 Fermor good-naturedly made allowance, as for a child, and she 
 saw this idea plainly in his face. He left her miserable 5 and 
 then the idea of what had since passed out of her head the 
 " invalid girl " came back. " She is not a child," she thought, 
 "and can understand his instructions 5 and he respects her." 
 Then with a weight of worldly trial pressing on her little brain, 
 she went away to her room, and battened on her new-found 
 miseries. This, we may say, was, on the whole, the most gloomy 
 day of her little life. Towards evening, she asked her sister to 
 come and take a walk. From her she received balm. They 
 
i^6 Never Forgotten. 
 
 walked towards Brown's-terrace. " If you torment yourself in 
 this way, my poor child," Pauline said, "you will fret yourself 
 into a grave. They live next door to him, and a little civility is 
 only natural. Besides, he has told you that he has found them 
 out to be low people, and has given them up." 
 
 " Yes," said Violet, half convinced, " I suppose so I suppose 
 he has." 
 
 They were entering the terrace, when she drew Pauline back 
 suddenly. " There he is," she said hurriedly. 
 
 "Well," said Pauline, "we 'are not afraid to meet him? 
 Ah! you doubting creature, you deserve punishment! Don't 
 you see he is setting out for our house. Come ! ' ; 
 
 "No not now at least, not for a moment." 
 
 Fermor was coming out of his house, magnificent as a de- 
 corated Apollo Belvidere. He was smoothed, and brushed, and 
 polished, and wore virgin gloves of the most delicate grey in the 
 world - } and the delicate grey ringers were closed delicately upon 
 a packet of yellow-toned pamphlets new works of the well- 
 known Roger le Gargon school, In his button-hole he had a 
 fresh flower. He passed out of his own gate looked up the 
 road which led in the Manuel direction then opened the next 
 gate, went up the steps, and gave a dainty knock as if he were 
 doing " a shake " upon the piano. Pauline, always ready with 
 assuring doctrine, had not a word to say. Not in pale grey 
 gloves, and with a flower at its button-hole, does the charitable 
 Misericordia society visit its sick. Brother Fermor's " habit ' 
 was scarcely spiritual enough. 
 
 But they had to think of other things. There was the Day 
 of Execution fixed for the morrow, the awful presentation to the 
 Queen-Mother. Violet, agitated by her new troubles, scarcely 
 slept that night, but tossed and rocked as if she were on the 
 waves of a real ocean. The utter wreck of a night's rest is not 
 much loss for a young girl ; but, looking in the glass, which she 
 did anxiously as soon as she had set foot upon land, she saw red 
 rings round her eyes, and flushed spots upon her cheeks. 
 
 The great domed black boxes of "Lady Laura Fermor and 
 suite," each with a coronet at the hasps, and wrapped carefully 
 in a canvas paletot, had come down into Eastport, and had been 
 got up-stairs into the genteel lodgings. The suite resolved itself 
 into one single maid, who was delighted to get home again from 
 what she called "Knees " (but which was spelt "Nice ") -, and 
 professed her delight at finding herself once more at home in " a 
 Christian country." 
 
Presented to tits Fermor Family. 13] 
 
 Fermor had been with them early on the morning of their 
 arrival, and had been encircled by cold arms. He was a little 
 nervous, though he did not acknowledge it to himself. The 
 girls welcomed him with the artificial blandishments of fashion- 
 able affection, and talked to him and put questions as if company 
 were by, and he was Colonel Silvertop of the Grenadier Guards. 
 They felt that this was acting, and they felt, too, the absurdity 
 of it, but could not help it. Their voices would fall into the 
 ball-room cadence. 
 
 " We are dying to see her j " they always called Violet her. 
 "I am sure she is like Lady Mantower's girl, you used to admire 
 so much." This was Alicia Mary's speech. 
 
 " You must make up your minds, my dears, to be frights near 
 her. Even as a boy, Charles, you were the most difficile person 
 in taste. She shall go out with us in Town, all jewels and lace, 
 and the richest dresses. 1 like those stately, queen-like creatures." 
 
 " Yes, mamma, and she can take us to court, and we shall 
 walk behind her, every one asking who that magnificent 
 woman is ? " 
 
 With his mouth expressing sourness, and some impatience in 
 his tone, Fermor broke in : " I don't understand," he said, " you 
 run on so fast. As for being a stately creature, and that sort of 
 thing, she is a very nice unassuming girl ; and as for those fine 
 dresses and drawing-rooms, we shall be too poor, God knows, to 
 be thinking of such things. I couldn't afford it." 
 
 " I hope not," said Lady Laura, gravely. " No plebeian saving 
 and scraping, I hope. Making a handsome show is not so dear 
 a thing after all) and that ten or fifteen thousand pounds, for 
 we are disputing how much it was you told us " 
 
 "Ten, mamma," said Blanche. 
 
 "What do you all mean?" said Fermor, turning very red. 
 " Who was talking of ten or fifteen thousand pounds ? I wasn't. 
 If you mean Violet's fortune, she has next to nothing; and," he 
 added, with an attempt at generous emotion, " and thank God 
 she doesn't require it." 
 
 Lady Laura almost screamed. " This is quite news ! Well, 
 be it ten, or nine, or eleven, you must make a show on it if you 
 wish to get on. It is very little, my dear Charles; for your 
 father always said you would want plenty of money to keep you 
 alive.'-' 
 
 "But," said Fermor, bluntly, "we had better understand 
 this once for all. I am not one of your mercenary people. 
 From the first, I said I never would look out for money. In 
 
13 8 Never forgotten. 
 
 fact, it always seemed to me a a sort of drawback, a kind oi 
 manufacturing thing. What I wanted was a person who would 
 suit me exactly, and I at last succeeded in finding her. Violet, 
 I believe," he added, looking round with a sort of pride, "will 
 not have a sixpence of her own literally, not a sixpence." 
 
 The family looked from one to the other, with a blankness 
 mingled with contempt. Fermorsaw their glances, and became 
 aggressive. 
 
 "Ah! you," he said, " who naturally think the whole of life 
 to be one long ball " 
 
 "Hush!" said Lady Laura, calmly 5 ''don't reproach them. 
 You have not, I hope, let these people take you in? I am sure 
 you are too sensible for that." 
 
 "Who says so?" said Fermor, sharply. "Perhaps that will 
 be the next thing." 
 
 " Well," said Lady Laura, " you are old enough now to know 
 what is best for yourself. I tried to bring you up as well as I 
 could to a certain age. The thing must go on now, and we 
 must make the best of it. What time," qdded she, calmly, " are 
 we to see your Miss Manuel ? " 
 
 "Oh," said Fermor, constrainedly, " don't put yourself out. 
 Any time to-morrow." 
 
 "You said to-day, I thought," said Lady Laura, coldly, and 
 rising. " Now, my dears, we must get our things settled in this 
 place. We have plenty to do. We shall be in all to-day, for I 
 feel very tired." 
 
 Fermcr went home chafing. " What a way they take things ! " 
 he said to himself. "Why should they be expecting this and 
 that ? I am sure I am old enough now to take my own course." 
 But what really jarred was their resigned air of toleration j for 
 he had expected banners, and bonfires, and acclamations, and 
 general jubilee. 
 
 He arrived at Raglan-terrace in no very good humour. 
 "Where is Violet?" he said; "please send her down, as we 
 have no time to lose. Is she ready ? " 
 
 Violet was up-stairs, but not ready. The final decorations 
 were being pushed forward desperately. Nothing could be 
 found, nothing was put on right or straight ; agitated fingers 
 tried to attach portions of dress to poor fluttering Violet's figure. 
 The poor child had been bathing her face for hours, until it 
 oecame all flustered and inflamed, and she had the wildness that 
 comes from want of sleep. Every moment expresses came from 
 mipatient Fermor below. At last she came down. 
 
Presented to the Fermor Family. 139 
 
 He started back. " What have you been doing with your face ? 
 Good gracious ! what is the matter? " 
 
 Violet came up to him timorously. ft Oh, it is nothing," she 
 said ; " we have been in such a hurry. Let us go." 
 
 " But why hurry ? " said he. " I thought that all this morn- 
 ing, surely Let me see you in the light. Heavens ! Is there 
 
 no eau-de-cologne in the house ? This is dreadful ! " 
 
 "Indeed, indeed, I tried all I could. I have been bath- 
 
 "Ah, that accounts for it," said he, calmly; "you have cer- 
 tainly a judicious sister. And you must not mind if I make 
 another remark but it is too serious an occasion to stand upon 
 trifles. And that bonnet- Where is your little lace bonnet ? '' 
 
 " Oh," said her sister, standing by her side like a workwoman 
 over a piece of work newly brought home, " this is a new one, 
 just got home expressly 3 " and she telegraphed a special appeal 
 to Fermor to forbear further criticism. He shrugged his 
 shoulders. " Come, let us go. We must pull through as well 
 as we can." 
 
 They went alone, for Lady Laura had said, " Please let her 
 come without any of her other people. I am really not equal to 
 it to-day. Later, of course but please don't ask me to-day." 
 In truth, poor Violet was in the most unfortunate plight for pre- 
 sentation that could be conceived. On this day she had deter- 
 mined to be splendid, and the result was that she looked a thousand 
 times better in her every-day dress. 
 
 As they went in, Fermor said solemnly, himself sadly out of 
 humour, " Now, please recollect all my instructions. I assure 
 you, though I dare say you don't see it in that light, you don't 
 know how much depends upon the next few moments." 
 
 Thus encouraged, Violet entered. Primness and austerity 
 welcomed her. Lady Laura rose upon her gauntly, and wound 
 her thin cartilages about her. The "girls," with a set smile 
 and faces cold as china, waited their turn. 
 
 " Sit down, pray do," said Lady Laura, looking curiously into 
 her face. "I am so glad to know you, I am indeed." The 
 others sat about and looked at her as curiously, taking her dress 
 as their department. In utter confusion, and with Fermor'seye 
 steadily on her, Violet could only murmur and murmur a little 
 stupidly, when Lady Laura got out some fashionable platitudes 
 and gave them to her, and then paused, waiting to hear how 
 they would be acknowledged Violet could only say she was "so 
 kind," and "so " an encomium that reached no greatei 
 
140 Never Forgotten 
 
 maturity. She heard Fermor change his place in his chair im- 
 patiently, then all her small forces fell into complete disorder. 
 
 Alicia Mary was busy with that unlucky bonnet, and Violet 
 felt that she was. The conversation languished terribly. 
 
 "We must come to know you a little better," said Lady 
 Laura ; " if you have any spare moments, we shall always be 
 delighted to see you. In time, you will have, of course, more 
 confidence in me. Alicia, you will make out Mrs. Manuel's 
 address j we shall be delighted to leave cards and make her ac- 
 quaintance." 
 
 Alicia Mary and Blanche and Laura gave her a cold accolade, 
 and said they should meet her during the season in Town, which 
 they also supposed she found " delightful." 
 
 Violet, in a tone that seemed to deprecate any violence, said 
 she did not know. She was longing to be gone. Fermor 
 abruptly stood up. He was angry, and saw that the whole had 
 been unsatisfactory j yet, curiously enough, he was not so much 
 angry with Violet as with his relations. " I don't want thev 
 patronising airs. I can do in spite of them." It was not u 
 pleasant walk home. 
 
 CHAPTER THE TWENTY-NINTH. 
 
 SIR HOPKINS EXAMINES THE GROUND. 
 
 o 
 
 N the next morning, excited by a sort of uneasy curiosity, he 
 went to see his family again, and said, with an air of un- 
 concern, "Well, how did you find her?" Lady Laura, with 
 an affectation of ingenuity, sent out her daughters on various 
 pretexts. " I really do not like," she said, confidentially, " to 
 speak of it before them. It is no use going into the matter 
 now. It does no good. So tell me what time are you thinking 
 of for the marriage. We shall, of course, try and meet your 
 views in every possible way." 
 
 " Oh, yes," said Fermor, "but what did you think? Don't 
 be afraid," he said ; "tell me candidly. I am not a boy now, 
 you know." 
 
 " What is the use?" she said. " They were more disap- 
 pointed than /was. I am an old lady now. Seriously, as you 
 do ask me, what was over your eyes ? I declare solemnly I 
 
Sir Hopkins Examines the Ground. 141 
 
 thought I should have dropped when she came, in so un- 
 formed, no manners, no looks ! " 
 
 "All I can say is/' said he, impatiently, " here she is consi- 
 dered the belle of the place." 
 
 " Here," said she, with a half smile. " Oh, that, of course. 
 After your description and all, I really felt a chill at my heart. 
 No style of any kind, not able to speak ; and as for dress, I lay 
 it on you to speak seriously to her, for really it is not creditable." 
 
 How this criticism, which was in the tone of maternal con- 
 dolence, affected Captain Fermor may be conceived. He thought 
 of it a good deal afterwards, and the remark about dress ap- 
 peared to him specially just. Lady Laura seemed anxious to 
 change the subject, so as not to give him pain. Sir Hopkins 
 Pocock, she told him, would arrive in a day or so. " Seriously, 
 you must lay your mind to making way with him. He is won- 
 derfully inclined towards you, and said the other day you had 
 the making of a diplomatist in ycu. He is to be a governor in 
 a month or so, and I think could be got to take you cut with 
 him. He ^ill have splendid appointments in his gift." 
 
 Fermor's face lightened. "Well, I always thought," he said, 
 tranquilly, "you should have put me in the diplomatic line. I 
 should have done very well as an attache. If I have a taste, it 
 is for negotiation. I should be very glad indeed to go out with 
 Pocock." 
 
 "Then I will speak to him about it," said Lady Laura. 
 
 Sir Hopkins did arrive the next day, plenipotentiary, as it 
 were, accredited to a new country. He was seen perking down 
 the street with an air of smirking surprise, as who should say, 
 "Really now, this is very forward civilisation : quite surprising, 
 'pon my word." If he went into a shop, he seemed to go as 
 an embassy to that shop, and prepared to negotiate a little for 
 the article he wanted, as if he were dealing with the Waipiti 
 tribe. At every turn something really now quite took him 
 by surprise. He entered the principal bookseller's shop in the 
 place, and negotiated out of him the leading persons then resid- 
 ing there. The principal bookseller had an inside room where 
 two or three newspapers drifted about, and taking down Sir 
 Hopkins's name with Lady Laura's, became impressed suddenly 
 with respect. 
 
 "We are very full indeed now, sir," he said. "Colonel 
 Gunter was in here this morning, and said he never recollected 
 such a season. The bishop came only yesterday." 
 
 Sir Hopkins was surprised. ' No, really ? You don't telJ 
 
142 Never Forgotten. 
 
 me so ? Now, what bishop ? It cannot be the Bishop of 
 er r " 
 
 " Yes, sir. Doctor Bridles. We have got his lordship's 
 'Charge/ which has made such a sensation. Got down six 
 copies last week, and only one left." 
 
 Sir Hopkins was smilingly amazed. And so this was the 
 "Charge," really now? That was curious. Well, and who 
 else, now ? 
 
 " We never were so full. The Miss Campbells, and the 
 officers, and Major Carter, who gave the little parties." 
 
 "Carter! Carter!" said Sir Hopkins. "What! Not an 
 elderly man, with light clean face, and greyish whiskers? No. 
 I should say not?" 
 
 " Why yes, sir," said the leading bookseller, a little mystified 
 by this way of putting the thing. " Why, that is very like him. 
 It must be the same. He has been in the best society, I assure 
 you, sir. A great friend of Captain Fermor's, sir." 
 
 "Oh! That is very nice indeed. Come now. A great friend,' 
 said Sir Hopkins, setting his head on one side, and resting his 
 hands on the rail of a chair, as if it were his perch, and he were 
 about to drink. 
 
 " Oh yes. In fact, sir, they say that it was at his house that 
 Captain Fermor's marriage came about. Interesting, sir? " 
 
 Then Sir Hopkins, having bought half a quire of note-paper, 
 and not having subscribed, went his way pleasantly. This was 
 what he called " getting the lie of the ground." 
 
 Fermor thought a good deal over what Lady Laura had 
 hinted. It diverted him, too, from other unpleasant reflections. 
 He was pleased with the notion of the diplomatic opening. 
 " The very thing for me," he said. i: He is most likely of the 
 old-fashioned school, and I will go out with him as secretary 
 nominally in reality as adviser and minister." 
 
 Major Carter, he felt, had a sort of little bill against him, 
 and he thought he would settle it by a dinner at the mess. 
 " No man shall say I am in his books," Captain Fermor added, 
 sternly 5 and Major Carter came to dinner that very day. 
 
 Mess dinners repeat themselves, and are all according to a 
 "sealed pattern." Major Carter adapted himself to the " young 
 fellows," and was pronounced, with serious military gravity, to 
 be a man of " uncommon knowledge." Wise Folly, busy with 
 its pipe, shook its head with profundity at Wise Folly in the 
 opposite lounging-chair, and uttered thickly that Carter was a 
 man that had " read a lot.'* A stranger was always welcome; 
 
Sir Hopkins Examines the Ground. 143 
 
 for they had gone round and round over the dried-up patch oi 
 grass they called their "minds," until they knew every foot of 
 it by heart. The wells, in which there was such brackish talk 
 as horses, uniforms, " my setter pup," and "jolly" cigars, had 
 long been pumped dry. Heads turned eagerly to drink up the 
 clear brook of Carter talk. And yet he was insinuating and 
 deferential, and with skilful tact suffered Fermor to lead. 
 
 After dinner there came the little ante-room, the playground, 
 where the youths could disport with tobacco and strong drinks. 
 A few got out the card-table, and applied themselves painfully 
 to the serious game of whist. Major Carter shook his head 
 sadly as he was asked to take a hand. " No, no/' he said. 
 " What I know of whist was bought a little expensively. A 
 very pretty corner of Carterstown had to pay for bad play. After 
 that night I gave up. Ask General Munro (then Colonel Munro 
 he was there the whole night) if I did not bear it pretty 
 well." When the cigars were lit all round, and the room seemed 
 glowing like a coal country at night, Major Carter got very 
 pleasant, and began to unpack some of the little worldly wares 
 he had gathered up in his journey through life. He set before 
 them ghostly dinner-parties, ghostly balls, little domestic farces, 
 in which Sandwich, Lord Yokel's brother, who was humorously 
 called by his friends Lobster Sandwich, from the colour of 
 his face, figured. General then Colonel Munro also had 
 part in these recollections. More interesting, however, was it 
 when Major Carter brought upon the scene a certain Maltese 
 lady whom he had met in garrison, " really one of the finest 
 creatures in the Italian way" he ever encountered in the whole 
 course of his life. " For myself," continued Major Carter, " I 
 am not very much in that line 5 and men tell me such and 
 such women are handsome, and of course I take their word for 
 it. But really, when I saw this girl coming down the Strada 
 Reale, literally lighting up the pathway, I confess I did feel 
 ever so little curious about her." 
 
 The youths settled themselves to listen earnestly for at least 
 the very youngest, not eighteen, might speak judicially on this 
 subject when a mess waiter entered with a card in his hand, 
 and said to Fermor, " That gentleman wishes to see you." 
 
 " Who can want me at this time ? 'Sir Hopkins Pocock ! ' 
 Oh ! " Fermor added, aloud, and rose to go out. He therefore 
 did not see the curious effect of this name on his friend. Major 
 Carter gave a scared look round from one to the other, and hall 
 rose also. 
 
144 Never Forgotten. 
 
 "Well," said a Boy-officer,, breathless, "what did she do 
 then? " 
 
 "Why then J) Major Carter said, abstractedly: "I fear 
 
 I must go now. Good gracious ! Had no idea so late." 
 
 A tumult of protest. " Oh, hang it. Confound it ! Tell us 
 about the woman." 
 
 " Must go, indeed," said Major Carter, looking uneasily at 
 the door. " Letters, you know." 
 
 Meanwhile Fermorwas greeted warmly by his relation. "Just 
 been up at your lodgings. Followed you down here. Don't 
 know that I should know you, though." 
 
 " You must come in, my dear sir," said Fermor, with warmth ; 
 " we are just sitting after dinner. I asked a friend, Major 
 Carter." 
 
 " Carter Major Carter. Is he here ? " 
 
 (( Oh yes," said Fermor. " A sharp clever man of the world. 
 You are certain to like him." 
 
 "Am sure he is the same met him at Monaco. And a 
 friend of yours? Come, I will go in and sit down for a few 
 minutes." 
 
 As they entered, they brushed by the major, who was hurry- 
 ing out, with his hat halfway raised. 
 
 " Good gracious ! where are you going? " said Fermor catch- 
 ing him by the arm. 
 
 " Major Carter, Major Carter ! " said the diplomatist, with 
 undiplomatic heartiness, " we have met before. You recollect 
 me Pocock? So glad. So very glad." And the diplomatic 
 head was jerked on one side, and the diplomatic hand held out. 
 
 Major Carter slowly took a sort of under-look at him, much 
 as a dog does suspicious of his master, and instantly changing 
 into the former crisp Major Carter that was sitting telling of the 
 Maltese lady, became delighted to welcome an old acquaintance 
 met with at Monaco. 
 
 " Sir Hopkins Pocock," said Fermor, introducing him to the 
 company. " Major Dobbs, Mr. Slack, Captain Showers." 
 
 The hospitality of a cigar was promptly offered, and several 
 open cases were proffered. Sir Hopkins chose one carefully, 
 and smiled on all round in return j but to Major Carter he was 
 specially attentive 5 appealing to him, and listening to him when 
 he had appealed, almost with reverence. " Stay long at Monaco 
 after I left ? We had a very pleasant time of it. Recollect old 
 Grimani from Naples, when he tore up my Times? They said 
 he had lost fifty thousand francs that night." 
 
Sir Hopkins Examines the Ground. 145 
 
 And Major Carter, who had not seemed to recollect him well 
 at first, now became as an old friend of the liveliest memory, 
 and a very delightful and genial old friend. 
 
 Fermor was pleased. " I always knew," he said sagely, next 
 day, " that Carter was of the proper set j I can always tell by 
 the ring of the metal." He was pleased, too, with his new 
 relation. "Just the sort of man I required," he said j and pre* 
 sently had drawn him out of the crowd, now beginning to bet 
 upon the whist party, and was talking to him gravely. 
 
 "They told me, sir," he said, "of your promotion* lam. 
 very glad of it. It requires peculiar gifts to govern. If you 
 were thinking as they told me you were of taking with you 
 any man of a peculiar turn that way, as secretary, or that sort of 
 thing, I confess I should be very glad to go. You can understand 
 that a man, who feels himself made for better things, and with 
 ambition, must find himself rather thrown away in this sort of 
 thing; " and he glanced round the room. 
 
 " Oh, of course," said the diplomatist j "quite so. And so 
 you find this place dull ? It seems to me pleasant enough. I 
 rather envy you here. Do they ever give a ball or a dinner, 
 eh ? " 
 
 " Oh, I suppose so," said Fermor, carelessly, " I don't know, 
 really. I am the worst person in the world to apply to. But, 
 sir of course, if you have chosen anyone already, that is a dif- 
 ferent thing. But I think I could be of use ; in fact, I am sure 
 of it. Better, perhaps, than any one else." 
 
 " Ah, quite so," said the other -, "no doubt. And the men 
 here, how do you find them now ? Pleasant, I should say, for 
 mere daily use like roast leg of mutton, not a refined dish, but 
 we have to come back to it." 
 
 " But have you made up your mind," said Fermor, keeping to 
 his point, "if I might ask "you directly ? " 
 
 " Do you know," said Sir Hopkins, turning round on him, 
 "you remind me of the chief who was our sliffest card among 
 the Waipiti. All our diplomatic forms were thrown away on 
 him. Well, no. My good Charles we will talk of this to- 
 morrow." 
 
 Fermor, fretting at this cool reception of his proposals, which 
 he always liked to be as promptly received as they were offered, 
 said ironically, " You have to make the acquaintance of these 
 men here, as yet, sir." 
 
 "No, no," said the diplomatist, smiling. "I have read a 
 good many more men than I have books. For instance, that 
 
1^6 Never Forgotten. 
 
 sunburnt man opposite, who made that comic remark about the 
 halter of a horse f " 
 
 Fermor smiled with compassion. " He never gets out of 3 
 circle much larger than a halter," he said. " Showers is his 
 name. He is our professional jester ! " 
 
 " Showers? Showers? I knew a Colonel Showers who conir 
 manded out in the islands, and headed the attack on the Pah." 
 
 "My uncle, sir/' said Showers, striking in 5 "he was out there 
 many years." 
 
 "Good gracious!" said the diplomatist, drawing his chair 
 over to him, " how curious, how wonderful ! He was my great 
 friend often dined with me at Government House. How is 
 he ? Heard from him ? " 
 
 The diplomatist was so delighted at this discovery, that he ad- 
 dicted himself to Showers for the rest of the night. Showers, 
 elated by the proud distinction, grew, as it were, rampant in his 
 ardour, and threw out on all sides his fescennine jests, as they 
 would be called in the old Roman History, being reckless 
 enough, even, to level a shaft or two at Fermor. But the face 
 of Fermor wore an expression of deep pain and disgust as he saw 
 this strange preference. Later, something like this thought 
 passed through his mind : "That the destinies of thousands of 
 our fellow-creatures should be committed to a man who was so 
 ignorant in reading the human mind ! Surprising blindness! " 
 It made him sad. 
 
 Late that night they set out to walk home together. Major 
 Carter and Fermor, with the diplomatist in the middle. At 
 Fermor' s gate they said good-night, and Fermor went in. But 
 he heard Sir Hopkins say in his cheeriest diapason, " My dear 
 Carter, give me your arm ! Which way do you go ? I want to 
 liave a talk with you over old times." 
 
 CHAPTER THE THIRTIETH. 
 
 SIR HOPKINS'S VERDICT. 
 
 "CpERMOR was beginning to grow sour and pettish at the 
 course his life was taking. He was annoyed, and he dis- 
 liked being annoyed, he said. This road was getting rough, and 
 he preferred walking on the grass. Perhaps he was piqued that 
 
Sir Hopkins 's Verdict. 147 
 
 every lady was not in a tumult of delight, astonishment, or envy, 
 at what he had done. 
 
 In this train of mind he again set the decorators at work, put 
 together the new " Hachettes," and went in to call at his next 
 door neighbour's. He also wanted a little soothing $ and often 
 a successful visit, he said, was like a glass of anisette to a 
 Frenchman. 
 
 The girl's eyes sparkled as he entered, and she half rose. The 
 colour came to her cheeks. " Even in her dress," thought he, 
 " quite the lady." Her eye fell on M. Hachette's little volumes. 
 "I know," said he, "from experience, how welcome a new 
 book is to the convalescent. Of course it is easy for any one to 
 say : ' Write to that man in London, and tell him to send a box 
 of the newest things.' And you do get," added he, smiling, 
 " the very newest trash. No; I think I know your taste by 
 this time, and the tone of your mind." 
 
 " It is so kind of you," she said, eagerly turning them over. 
 
 "I got them expressly," he said, "and I have good news. 
 Our friend Roger le Garyon is on his way. We shall have him 
 next week." 
 
 "Next week!" said the girl. "You are too good tome. 
 Papa says what shall I do when I lose our neighbour ? I must 
 only make the most of the time." 
 
 "Oh," said Fermor, smiling, and thinking of the metaphor 
 he had written to Mrs. Fazakerly his were always good service- 
 able images that would wash and wear "you are thinking of 
 the approaching dissolution, the lying in state, and the interment. 
 A time is appointed for all men. But it is a good way off. The 
 judge has given me a long day." 
 
 This was a very natural girl, and she said more with her open 
 honest face than with her voice, " Oh, I am so glad so very 
 glad." 
 
 Fermor looked at her with great interest. " So you are sorry 
 for the poor convict ? " he said. 
 
 The other looked down. " It is all selfishness, I am afraid. 
 You will say we miss what has been a comfort and assistance to 
 us, and you have been very, very kind." 
 
 She said this in a straightforward way, without any affectation. 
 At that moment it occurred to him how helplessly that poor 
 little Violet would have floundered, and what a spectacle of 
 confusion she would have exhibited. 
 
 " I hope," he said, graciously, "we do not give up all our 
 friends when we marry. It would be very hard if we were tp 
 
148 Never Forgotten. 
 
 lose our caste like the Indians, and be cut off from society. I 
 shall be still the same Captain Fermor, I hope. T sincerely 
 trust so. But, as I say, the thing is altogether indefinite. That 
 is to say, I never like being fixed to a day, or a month, or eveiv 
 a year. They must give me breathing space and opportunity to 
 look about. And so," he said, smiling encouragement, and 
 morally smoothing her hair, " we can hope to spend a great 
 many more hours together over Roger le Gargon yet." 
 
 He was greatly delighted with her confidence in him, and the 
 naivete of her almost unconcealed liking, which he thought he 
 would play on a little more still. 
 
 " I would give the world to see her," she said, fixing her soft, 
 honest eyes on him. " When I am strong enough to drive out, 
 which will be to-morrow, I shall get papa to take me where she 
 is walking. I can look at her hard, without being rude." 
 
 Fermor good-naturedly passed over the false expression in this 
 speech, for he might have told her it would be rudeness all the 
 same 5 then said, "Why not see her in the regular way? I tell 
 you what Violet shall come and see you" 
 
 "No, no/' said she, alarmed, and colouring, "Not for the 
 world." 
 
 "And why not ? " said Fermor, still watching her. 
 
 " Violet !" she said. " Oh, what a charming name! And I 
 am sure suits her." 
 
 "Yes," he said, carelessly, "it does. I confess /rather fancy 
 a name of a more neutral tint. You know you expect every- 
 thing to be in harmony to be shrinking like a violet." 
 
 "And I am sure she shrinks. Tell me, now." 
 
 "Yes," said Fermor, laughing. "She does almost a little 
 too much. I almost like your name Mary better." 
 
 " Oh no, no," said she, in confusion. " You only say that.' 
 
 "I am speaking of the name in general," said he, gravely. 
 
 This sort of discussion would have been a little dangerous 
 with any one less trained than Fermor. He felt he had the reins 
 of the situation well in hand. He was thinking how much 
 nearer the edge he could drive, when the door half opened, and 
 a sort of little sharp voice said persuasively, 
 
 " What dy'e say ? May I come in? Eh?" 
 
 The face of Sir Hopkins was looking round the edge of the 
 door, as if he had his eye to a telescope. *' I declare, my dear 
 Charles, you here ! Just dropped in to see Mr, Carlay. Carter 
 was to have met me. Miss Carlay, I am sure. Charles, J must 
 ask you " 
 
Sir Hopkins s Per diet. 149 
 
 The other was really taken aback. What brought him ; above 
 all, what -brought him at such a moment, when the lectures on 
 Roger le Garden were about beginning? But, true to his prin- 
 ciple of never being surprised, never thrown off his centre, 
 Fermor introduced his relation at once. 
 
 The delicate girl received the visitor with self-possession. No 
 shell had exploded in that drawing-room. There had been 
 nothing like an order for execution. She went to meet him with 
 a smile and with a welcome, she said she was sorry her father 
 was out, and seemed not in the least embarrassed at having to 
 play the conversational game against two gentlemen. She 
 uttered the usual hopes and questions. Was Sir Hopkins going 
 to stay with them long, and how did he like the place ? 
 
 Immensely, Sir Hopkins said. Did not know when he had 
 liked a place so much. Though, indeed, to a man who had 
 roughed it a good deal in the world, all places should be like all 
 beds very much the same. 
 
 "Indeed," said the young girl, half shyly, half earnestly, and 
 with an animation that became her wonderfully, " our little 
 ways and manners must seem very trifling to you, who have 
 travelled so many, many miles, and have managed those dread- 
 fully savage people. I would give the world to know how it 
 is done," she added, the shyness being now all absorbed in 
 the earnestness, " and how even a beginning is made the 
 language." 
 
 (This was not the venial hypocrisy of the drawing-room, for 
 Fermor had indeed invested his relation's achievements with an 
 air of adventure.) 
 
 "Why, you dorit tell me," Sir Hopkins said, in great delight, 
 "that you have been reading up the Blue Books? Where did 
 you pick up about the Waipiti ? " 
 
 Fermor and Sir Hopkins went away together. Pretty much 
 the same feeling was in both minds. "My dear boy," said the 
 latter, detaining him gently at the library door, " we older 
 fellows may not have as fresh a taste, but I fancy I know a girl 
 about as well as you know a horse. Wonderful creature that ! 
 Piquant everything and such tact ! Positively, if I had to 
 choose between our good little innocent rustic and that girl, I 
 
 declare " And he finished the sentence in an expressive 
 
 squeeze of his lips. "To say nothing," he added, in a lower 
 voice, " of the money. Ha ! ha ! I suppose I am getting old 
 and exploded though the F. O., I am glad to say, does not 
 think so but of all the incomprehensible bewildering 
 
150 Never Forgotten. 
 
 things in the world this selection of yours of our amiable iittic 
 rustic " 
 
 With another man Fermor would have burst out haughtily, 
 "Incomprehensible to you that is your concern." But he 
 restrained himself. This relation was to be dealt with by suasion. 
 if You are never tired, sir, of this unfortunate subject, ' he said. 
 <( I am truly grieved, indeed I am, that " 
 
 "Now, now" said Sir Hopkins, " why will you? 1 never 
 succeed in conveying myself. Though you know, we are trained 
 not to convey ourselves. But e it intrigues ' me, as old Mungo 
 used to say in his battered French. I don't see it. I want to 
 see it. Explain it. Here are you in a whole parkful of de- 
 sirable girls, every field here alive with them money, rank, 
 everything and you pick out our little rustic. My boy, I tell 
 you you have a game in all this." 
 
 Fretful, pettish, hot, wounded (if he had been a girl he would 
 have cried), angry, Fermor did not know how to answer, could 
 not answer. 
 
 "It is so odd," continued Sir Hopkins. "But I shall find it 
 out, depend upon it. It quite piques me. When I was an 
 attache they used to call me ' Young Tally/ a funny abbrevia- 
 tion, you know, of the great diplomatist. First, that fine girl 
 the sister and now this fine girl. Ah! deep, deep fellow! " 
 
 Sir Hopkins came to Fermor next day almost chuckling. 
 
 "This place," he said, " is getting quite exciting. It is really 
 a fine training-ground. I thought my diplomatic joints and 
 muscles would get stiff and rusty for want of practice. But I 
 find I have plenty to do. My dear friend, I have managed our 
 little affair. Would you believe that? And all in a day! " 
 
 Fermor became good humoured at once. " I am so glad, sir. 
 It is so good of you." 
 
 "I mean about our young friend Showers. He's a lad of 
 good spirit, and should be encouraged." 
 
 Fermor' s face began to contract, and shrink like metal cool- 
 ing. " I am quite tired of him," said he, impatiently. "And I 
 think, sir, when you come to know him better, so will you be. 
 Why, there's nothing in him -, nothing. Of all the empty, self- 
 sufficient wind-bags, without an idea beyond a horse, and the 
 horse-laugh " 
 
 Sir Hopkins shook his head from side to side with great 
 enjoyment. "Ah, I dare say you're right," he said. "We 
 have all our fancies. And, a propos, how is our little rustic 
 to-day? She is such a charming bit of natural simplicity, 
 
The Eastport Show. ijl 
 
 se, obserVe, I distinguish, she is not one of your peasants 
 let loose in a drawing-room. I must say she is all nature. And 
 her fine sister. Ah ! I never shall let that subject go, never, 
 you military owl, you. Master Charles, if / had been at your 
 elbow when you were choosing ! I declare to you, Charles, on 
 my so-lemn Word of honour" (Sir Hopkins put little jerks 
 between each word), " if I were ten years younger, I would go 
 to her within the next half hour, and offer her the vacancy in 
 my house. What a pair we should be ! What a governor's 
 wife she would be ! We would rule the colonies. What was 
 the reason, eh, Charles ? I think you were a little in awe of 
 her, eh ? I have very sharp eyes. I remark she has a quiet, 
 decisive manner about her, which (naturally enough) you would 
 not relish. Only for her, how would it have turned out, / 
 should like to know : Clever, clever woman, that 1 I admire 
 her." 
 
 " I assure you, sit, : said Fermor, excitedly, " in that view you 
 are quite astray." 
 
 " Perhaps so," said Sir Hopkins, carelessly, " perhaps so. But 
 a word of advice, Charles. Don't have the look of being 
 directed by any whole family I say the look j because, whether 
 you are or not, is quite, a matter for your own concern. I see 
 the beginnings it may be all fancy and my advice is worth 
 something." 
 
 CHAPTER THE THIRTY-FIRST, 
 
 THE EASTPORT SHOW, 
 
 COME intelligent and influential persons living about Eastfxtft 
 and its dependencies had long been thinking that the only 
 way to crown, as it were, its growing commercial importance, 
 was to hold a cattle festival, or congress. 
 
 You had a great grazing country close by, said Lord Pork- 
 chester, the local lord you had a great carrying trade with the 
 opposite coast you had a convenient place of export you were 
 within half a day's travel of one of the great markets of the 
 empire you had pasture land unrivalled in Europe for richness 
 you had an intelligent population, with more or less propor- 
 tion of the " bone and sinew '' which made the State -you had, 
 in short, every element suitable for a cattle show. Lord Pork- 
 
l$l Never Forgotten. 
 
 Chester " looked around" him at a preliminary meeting held at 
 the hotel, and saw all these things. Nature in that part of the 
 world, it would seem, was rising up, and clamorously appealing 
 for a cattle show. 
 
 In good time the Eastport walls broke out into a healthy 
 eruption of posters. The committee, wjth Lord Porkchester in 
 the chair, sat daily. Its sub-divisions, the dinner committee, 
 the reception committee, and the ball committee, sat daily also. 
 By-and-by a bit of waste ground became strewn with planks 
 and timbers, as if a hundred Indiamen had been wrecked and 
 gone to pieces there j and lengths of very raw deal shedding 
 began to spread out, as if they were unrolled from a reel. By- 
 and-by, too, engines that seemed like racks and enlarged thum- 
 bikens, were seen reclining awkwardly on the quay, sprawling 
 like metal tortoises, and unable to get up. These were the 
 famous "mowers," the more famous "winnowing machines," 
 and, above alt, the wonderful patent " bone-crushing machine," 
 which title did, indeed, in the minds of serious and religious 
 elderly ladies, seem to support the " rack" theory of this favourite 
 "controversy." No wonder that the Eastport local paper re- 
 minded its public that the "eyes of the empire" were watch- 
 ing it. 
 
 Later on the show animals began to arrive. Precious beasts, 
 hidden away in their own fat, and covered up in clothes, were 
 seen reeling and tottering through the street, led by rings fixed 
 in the sensitive part of the nostrils* At corners they would 
 halt and give out deep and piteous protests. One or two, full 
 of heat and foam, and blowing off steam like a locomotive, lay 
 down with all their fine clothes in the mire, and looked round 
 with deeply injured eyes. But no one had yet seen Bulling- 
 ton's noble white cow, "Milky Jane," who had taken prizes in 
 every county, and who might have been hung all over with 
 cups like a French lemonade-seller. She travelled down in a 
 van of her own first class resided at the best hotels of her 
 tribe, and arrived under cover of night. Through the bars of 
 small railed carts could be seen something like blinking, corpu- 
 lent old gentlemen, who had dined well, and drunk very well, 
 and who were drowsy and stertorous. These proved to be com- 
 peting pigs. 
 
 It was quite a provincial festival. There were judges, and 
 stewards, and committees, and heavy agricultural men, a little 
 higher in intelligence than the other animals which were exhi- 
 bited. Everybody came. Other ribbons fluttered in the air 
 
The Eastport Show. 153 
 
 besides those of committee-men and judges ; and all the ladies 
 of the district courageously picked their steps through the lanes 
 and alleys of the yard. And the band of Captain Fermor's 
 regiment, led by Herr Sangmann, a saffron-coloured German, 
 played waltzes and overtures, after the rude rough fashion of 
 British regimental music stiff and painful as the stocks the 
 men wear, noisy yet thin, shrieking and ear-piercing, yet unsus- 
 tained. Ladies were led round to have audiences of the prize 
 animals in their cabinets. The visitors saw tails waving sadly, 
 like pendulums, and glowering and reproachful eyes measuring 
 them y they saw, too, what seemed monstrous breastworks and 
 ramparts of flesh and fat. Gentle voices were attuned to 
 cadences of wonder and delight, and curiosity; though the air 
 was heavy, and dresses had to be gathered up carefully, and 
 there was an embroidery of straw to every petticoat ; but there 
 was young Mangel, with other charming showmen (whose regu- 
 lar residence was in the saddle), who went round with them, 
 and put the thing in so attractive a light (like Professor Faraday 
 lecturing), that this avidity for bucolic knowledge became natural. 
 
 "Milky Jane" attracted the largest crowd. She was all 
 pure white, with pale pink nostrils and "lovely horns " (a casual 
 burst of ecstasy from one of the ladies), and every now and then 
 she turned her head round to look, with a dreamy complacent 
 expression of perfect happiness. Man of the world or diploma- 
 tist might vainly hope for that perfection of ease and unaffected 
 absence of restraint before company which "Milky Jane" 
 exhibited. 
 
 A poultry show was part of the sight. Some one had put a 
 question about a week before, specially addressed to no one, 
 " Why not have a poultry show ? " And no one being prepared 
 with an answer, this was resolved upon. Ladies in the neigh- 
 bourhood, who had long nurtured mysterious-looking birds, sent 
 them in ; and rare specimens of the Dorking and Cochin families 
 strained over each other's shoulders with jerks and starts, and 
 looked out through their wire-netting like apoplectic retired 
 colonels in the bay-window of a club. 
 
 Captain Cadby led round the Miss Campbells. They were 
 enraptured with Captain Cadby's band. With the ingenuous- 
 ness of girlhood, the younger said she could listen to it " for 
 ever!" In those raptures she almost hinted that the music of 
 an after state must be of the pattern of Captain Cadby's band. 
 With more pointedness the elder insinuated that this celestial 
 perfection was owing to Captain Cadby himself. 
 
1^4 Never Forgotten* 
 
 " Yes/' said that officer ; " we pay him well, that's the secret. 
 And I blow up Sangmann that's the way, too. You see, I 
 sometimes go down and hear them practise. I make Sangmann 
 keep up the pace, you see. They take everything too slow. 
 Ever hear the * Pop-goes-the-Weazel Galop ' ? No ! Oh, hang 
 it, you must hear that. I'll make Sangmann play it. Do you 
 know," added Captain Cadby, modestly, " it was I that made 
 him set it. I do believe there's more genuine music in that air 
 though common fellows wouldn't see it than in all the 
 music of the great swells,- and what-d'ye-call-'em Mozarts, they 
 puff off so." 
 
 The girls looked at each other in speechless delight* They 
 knew he was musical they always had said it. 
 
 Well, he was as musical as most fellows. He would tell them 
 what he knew what was good, and what was bad. Oh, had 
 they seen his new " Snaffle ? " 
 
 No ! Delight, rapture, wonderment, all struggling together. 
 What ! a snaffle, a real snaffle ? 
 
 " 'Be sure ! I say, come along. This way." 
 
 This way was through a little bog, over which the officer 
 tramped gaily, in very stout boots. The girls were prettily shod 
 in pale cloth boots, the colour of their dresses. " I say, look at 
 my boots! f don't care how muddy it is! I'm all right." 
 The girls had served in the ranks, and were true drawing-room 
 Spartans. They never faltered, and walked on bravely. 
 
 The snaffle might have been a. diamond necklace, it caused 
 such delight and surprise. The sisters struggled for it. They 
 seemed to be in the enjoyment of the beatific vision. Such in- 
 genuity, skill, and incredible talent. But had he thought of a 
 name for it, the elder said, with a sigh some pretty lady's 
 pretty name ? He should call it the Alexandra or the Carlotta 
 Snaffle. 
 
 "Oh," said Captain Cadby, in an off-hand way, "that is 
 settled long ago. I call it the f Jenny,' after a pretty girl in 
 the north of England I am desperately gone with. You've 
 nobody here to match her. I could tell you a long history 
 about her." 
 
 Something like the breath of an east wind seemed to pass 
 across the Campbell faces, but they were well disciplined, and 
 were as eager about the girl in the north, and "laid on" as 
 much surprise, joy, interest, and other varied emotions, as they 
 had done for the "snaffle.' 7 
 
 The next night there was to be the ball. This was to be 
 
The Eastport Show. t$$ 
 
 given by the united regiments. The soldier organises the best 
 ball in the world, because he does not spare money. The public 
 rooms were taken. A ball committee for " advice and decora- 
 tion " was formed. Major Stagg, who had hung his rooms with 
 some dreadfully rhubarb-looking horses, and who had a rude 
 facility in sketching yachts, was put in the chair as representing 
 Art in the regiment. A couple of guns were dragged in and 
 hung about with flags and evergreens ; muskets were grouped in 
 a star on the wall, and the whole christened a "trophy." The 
 bare walls were draped with pink and white calico. Fermor was 
 of the committee of advice and decoration, and was for " getting 
 down " some one from the Messrs. Tabaret, but a cabal, secretly 
 prompted, it was believed, by " that low fellow " Showers, re- 
 ceived his proposition so offensively, that he withdrew from the 
 board altogether. "Don't ask me about their proceedings," he 
 said; " I know nothing about them. I have washed my hands 
 of the whole business. Let us wait and see what will come 
 of it." 
 
 It was the great day of the great night. Lady Laura with her 
 three daughters, with the versatility of French soldiers who 
 carry their cooking-pans and tentes d'alris on their backs were 
 beginning to find that Eastport was not altogether barren. This 
 hard-working family were as the Irish reapers, who come over 
 and find work waiting them in all places. 
 
 Fermor found her, on the morning of the ball, as it were in a 
 drain, up to her waist in water, plying the shovel. " Violet," he 
 said, moodily, " Violet of course goes with you ? What time do 
 you call for her? " 
 
 Lady Laura jumped out of her trench. "I have not heard 
 of that arrangement," she said. *'I really did not know she 
 was going." 
 
 "It is only the right thing," said Fermor. "I suppose she 
 must be brought out properly. At what hour, then ? " 
 
 " Why, my dear Charles," said Lady Laura, retiring, with her 
 neck at an angle to get a better view of a dress, " to tell you the 
 truth, I should be glad to do anything for you and your future 
 wife, but really the thing is getting so troublesome, and there is 
 so much diplomatic work and care about what we are to say, 
 that really I don't understand it. That is the truth. One day 
 she is sick, and I take her to be offended or hurt at something -, 
 another day she is hurt at something, and she turns out to be 
 sick." 
 
ij6 Never Forgotten* 
 
 "You must consider she is a child," said Fermor, coldly, 
 "and make allowance." 
 
 " Ah, that's just it," said she, shaking out the folds of the 
 dress, and retiring again to get a good view* " I am too old, 
 Charles, to begin studying children. I expect to be studied 
 myself a little now. I have my own girls to look to, and perhaps 
 not much time to do that in. To speak plainly to you, Charles," 
 she added, laying a strip of ribbon down the dress to see the 
 effect, "if you had married an heiress, or some one of rank, you 
 would have a right to expect this sort of thing from us. But for 
 a little girl of that kind, you could hardly expect us to put our- 
 selves out of the way. I have a duty to my girls. There, the 
 milliner of this place a wretched creature, without two ideas 
 is waiting, and I have literally to teach her everything." 
 
 Fermor departed without a word. He was too proud to ex- 
 plain. He told Violet she must go with her brother and sister. 
 In these visits, of late, he had come very moody and distrait. 
 There was uncertainty and flatter in gentle hearts when he 
 came. He was under a sense of injury, especially as regards 
 Pauline, who had attempted to control him. She said, in her 
 natural way, when he told her of the new arrangement, " But 
 how strange ! how odd ! " 
 
 Fermor looked at her suspiciously. " How strange, or how 
 odd, pray?" he said, with hostility, "My mother, Lady 
 Laura, has her daughters to look after. At her time of life, it is 
 rather too much to expect that she can adapt herself to our little 
 whims and changes." (This protest Fermor adapted from his 
 mother's speech.) 
 
 Pauline was looking at him with calm wonder, and a sad gaze 
 that seemed to " bring him to account " a manner that was 
 disagreeable to him. 
 
 " Surely," he said, a little warmly, "you have your sister and 
 your brother ! I have tickets for you all. Good gracious ! Let 
 us not make difficulties out of these little trifles." 
 
 "Oh yes, yes, yes," said Violet, hurriedly,, "To be sure, 
 Charles is quite right. I can go any way." 
 
 Fermor smiled grimly. "Scarcely," he said. "I shall not 
 be able to go with you myself, having to be at the rooms. 
 But I shall be at the door to meet you. Don't be late. Pray 
 don't." 
 
 He went away beating the steps of the stair with his cane. 
 He was dissatisfied with all things. "Everybody is making a 
 fuss," he said, fuming. Violet, when the door closed, gave a 
 
The Ball. l^j 
 
 piteous look over at her sister, and then her head dropped. 
 Actually, a faint little line of care was coming on her cheek. 
 The sister went over to her. 
 
 "He is worried," she said, "darling, with business. He is 
 getting his affairs into order, which must be done before men 
 marry. And, darling, he is so fond of you. I saw the way he 
 looked over at you." 
 
 A wave of colour drifted softly across Violet's cheek, and 
 washed out that little line of care. 
 
 "You think so," she said, in delight. "Do you know, 1 am 
 such a baby. I fancied he was a little cross with me." 
 
 CHAPTER THE THIRTY-SECOND, 
 
 THE BALL. 
 
 TV'OW were the lamps lighted, and rivers of crimson carpeting 
 glowing in the light, and there was actually a last man on 
 a last ladder, driving in a last nail. Now were a party of soldiers 
 standing at their posts outside, holding torches animated 
 chandeliers a pleasant device ingeniously adapted by the one 
 novel-reading officer out of the Legend of Montrose. Now 
 were the carriages arriving, and now was the colonel and his 
 followers, bashful as boys, drawn up to welcome their company. 
 The whole society of Eastport came in swarms. They spread 
 over the rooms. 
 
 Picini bright-eyed and mercurial was in the gallery leading 
 his orchestra. For in this point Fermor had prevailed j they 
 had got down this famous band. Captain Cadby was in deep 
 protest ; and, far on in the night, he said many times with the 
 earnestness and feeling that sets in after supper, " I wish to God 
 they would play the Pop-goes-the-Weazel Galop." 
 
 Fermor leaned against a pillar near the door, listening. " So 
 punctuality is not to be of our virtues, it seems," he said. " Even 
 they are in time ? " He was thinking of his mother and sisters, 
 who had long since debouched, taken up good ground, and were 
 already well engaged with skirmishers. The three girls had 
 been "placed out" respectably. Young Brett hovered about 
 Fermor wistfully, and made a request. "My dear friend/' 
 said Fermor, answering him good naturedly, "it would quite 
 be useless. You see they are engaged, what they call so -many 
 
j^8 Never Forgotten. 
 
 deep. Besides, I tell you frankly, it would not do exactly 
 you see." 
 
 The night was getting on. Here was a first galop, or perhaps 
 first "riot." Picini had rushed into his famous Pandemonium 
 Galop a wild inspiring " Call," which could not be resisted. 
 The Eastport young men and women were kept on half diet, in 
 matter of dancing, all the year, and a full meal was rare. When 
 the first notes of the Pandemonium were heard, they flung 
 themselves on it like shipwrecked passengers before whom food 
 is set. 
 
 Fermor, still at his post, looked on. "This is really pushing it 
 too far!" he said, indignantly. "That elder one, perhaps, 
 wants to train me break me in, I suppose. I must teach her I 
 am not quite a schoolboy. I shall wait no longer. It will be a 
 good lesson for them." 
 
 Showers was keeping close to the door, perhaps watching him, 
 looking for material for his odious jokes. He was walking away, 
 when a fresh party entered and went through the form of pre- 
 sentation to the bashful committee. This hid them, for a. 
 moment. But the next instant, to his amazement, he saw that 
 the two figures, who were entering, a little bewildered, into a 
 strange country as it were into a tropical island were his 
 neighbour Mr. Carlay, and his neighbour's daughter! The 
 father grim, unjointed as ever, and in an evening dress ap- 
 parently of some dark metal as stiff as one of the hired chan- 
 deliers 5 but the daughter, fresh, blooming, fair dressed, as it 
 seemed to him, sumptuously, and, what he more approved of, 
 with good taste, and with jewels in her hair. They both stood 
 a moment dazzled, like strangers in a foreign land, and then 
 Fermor, who was almost rubbing his eyes, saw " that Showers " 
 hurry up (Fermor had done him injustice he was not watching 
 him), seize on them, overpower them with welcome, and bear 
 them away. Presently he saw them enthroned by the officious 
 Showers on a dais kept for distinguished people. He saw smiles 
 of delight on Miss Carlay's face as Showers wantoned in his low 
 jests. He heard two of his own cloth passing by say to each 
 other that " Showers was making a good thing of it up there," 
 and was a " confounded " lucky fellow. 
 
 She had seen Fermor too, and had given no start of joyful sur- 
 prise, but merely a tranquil nod, as though the thing were of 
 course. Showers was jubilant, exultant, and almost " dancing " 
 round them, always impeding Fermor' s view. "Just like them 
 fljl/' he said, bitterly j "a new doll for every day in the week. 
 
The Ball. 159 
 
 And such a doll ! *' He saw, too, Sir Hopkins standing with 
 them, talking pleasantly, with his arm on Showers's shoulder, in 
 good-humoured affection. 
 
 Here they were at last. Fermor saw their entrance from afar 
 off. It was unassuming and timid ; Pauline, the brother, and 
 Violet a little behind. " Heavens ! " thought Fermor, with a 
 little stamp, "will no one impress a little style upon them? 
 What are they afraid of ? " The public did not form an avenue 
 to stare at them as they came in. And the dress ! Great efforts 
 had been made, but there was something wanting. Violet was 
 not brilliant or splendid ; yet her little troubles and anxieties had 
 given her a soft look, and a sort of seductive interest. Many 
 faces turned to look after her : especially those experienced eyes 
 who, like bric-a-brac collectors, can tell a bit of real beauty, how- 
 ever odd and rococo the setting. Pauline, in truth, dimmed her 
 3 little. 
 
 Fermor went up to them. " You are late," he said, calmly, 
 to the brother ; " I have really waited a whole hour at the door. 
 Come," and he took Violet's arm, " we must find you a seat on 
 the dais." 
 
 Violet shrank away. "Oh no, not in that public place, dear 
 Charles Oh no!" 
 
 Fermor let go her arm at once. He had been much annoyed 
 that evening. " As you please," he said. " I only want you to 
 take your proper place among the company. But just as you 
 please." 
 
 " Oh yes, of course," said Violet, hurriedly 5 " let us go there 
 at once." 
 
 " Which then is it to be ? I dare say there will be no getting 
 a chair noiv?' said he. " W r as there any mistake about the 
 hour?" 
 
 "No," said her sister, calmly; "the carriage did not come, 
 and Violet's headache was so bad, that at one time we thought 
 of giving it up altogether." 
 
 Fermor did not answer. 
 
 "Here is a chair now," he said presently. "We must go 
 through a quadrille, I suppose, for the benefit of these people 
 here, or we shall furnish them with some food for talk. I shall 
 come back in a moment." But one of the secret causes of 
 Fermor's bitterness was that the public were not so absorbed in 
 his motions as he expected. 
 
 As he moved away, Pauline touched him gently. There was 
 an imploring look in her large eyes. She said, "This is 4 
 
160 Never Forgotten. 
 
 very trying place for her. Be a little soft with her ; encourage 
 her, and she will do very well. You must promise me." 
 
 Fermor could not trust himself to speak. This was more of 
 the family "intimidation." He had no reply ready, so he 
 merely bowed and strode away. 
 
 Sir Hopkins and Showers passed him, arm in arm. 
 
 There was a sort of ritual and a " form " of thanksgiving 
 chanted through that night. It was heard at all corners. It 
 was charming, delightful, delicious ! Young ladies fell into 
 little contortions of rapture. They never, in the course of their 
 lives, had experienced anything to approach its enchanting 
 character! From the hundred-and-one little processions made 
 that night, backwards and forwards, under cool and tropical con- 
 ditions, from ball to supper room, and from supper to ball room 
 the same anthem was raised. The beatific vision was found 
 at last. So with the military showmen, who were busy with 
 their duties all the night. They accepted these compliments 
 with modest diffidence, brushing them away, as it were, like 
 flies. "Oh, I say, come;" would the bashful warriors repeat. 
 " Good ! You, indeed. You are chaffing me ! You see er 
 we know how to do it. That's the whole secret, you see." 
 The devotee on his arm, however, received it as a grand and 
 dazzling truth. 
 
 Fermor, a little softened, was making his way over to Violet, 
 and generously publishing an amnesty for the past. Violet saw 
 him coming, and the wistful look fled. Showers, with Miss 
 Carlay on his arm, was drifted up near him. The low triumph 
 on Showers's face was too much for Fermor he would put him 
 down and he walked straight across to Miss Carlay. 
 
 The round fair honest face looked up at him hopefully, almost 
 with delight. " 1 never expected to see you here," said Fer- 
 mor. " Nor did I hear you were coming though there was 
 nothing surprising in that. I mean my not hearing it." 
 
 She smiled. "How were we to tell you?" she said gently. 
 " We never see you now. You have given us up." 
 
 "I am very busy now," said Fermor. "I have given up 
 vanities. I have forsworn all my old ways and pleasures. I 
 have no right to amuse myself. I am to look the world in the 
 face now, and who cares about me now?'' 
 
 " 1 am very sorry, very sorry," said the girl, opening and 
 shutting her fan. " I thought we were friends of yours, and 
 you bore with us so kindly." 
 
 *' Oh yes," said Fermor, with artificial carelessness (he war- 1 
 
The Sail. 161 
 
 getting into one of the dramatic situations he loved), " that is 
 all the old story, you know. It is very good of you to say so. 
 But, after all, what does it reduce itself to r A book or so lent, 
 an hour or so of my tediousness bestowed on you. This is the 
 way we go through life. To-morrow you will be next door to 
 some one else. And his figure will be refracted into heroic pro- 
 portions. The day after, I shall be next door to some one else, 
 and she will be refracted too. I have not told you half of my 
 philosophy yet. You were right, after all, in dealing with me 
 as the merest of acquaintances." 
 
 " I never dreamt of such a thing," she said, a little sadly 5 
 "and if you would take the trouble of explaining " 
 
 " Really ? " said Fermor, carelessly. " And you are curious to 
 know? " 
 
 At this moment interposed Showers, eager, alarmed, and 
 panting like a horse at the end of a long stage. " Now, Miss 
 Carlay," he said - 7 <( we can go now. There is not such a crowd 
 now, and we can reach the supper-room before it is opened." 
 
 Fermor lifted his eyes quietly to hers, and moved his chair a 
 little. She drooped her eyes. There was a pause. The 
 simplest, most unsophisticated girls are born with these ball- 
 room artifices. 
 
 "But," she said, "Mr. Showers, it seems so crowded still. 
 We shall never get through." 
 
 Showers urged it. "Do come," he said, holding out his 
 arm ready bent. " I shall manage it, never fear." 
 
 She was so honest and natural, this girl, and saw he was so 
 earnest, that on another occasion she would have gone with him 
 at every risk of personal sacrifice. But Fermor's eyes were on her. 
 
 "Would not," she said, irresolutely "would not a little 
 later do as well ? Say after the next dance. There, that's 
 settled," she added, with gaiety. 
 
 Showers was deeply wounded. "Very well," he said, "very 
 well." 
 
 Fermor stood up. f What!" he said, "after Mr. Showers 
 has had the trouble of fighting his way through all that humanity 
 to get to you ! For shame, Miss Carl ay. That is cruelty, if 
 you like. Look at his arm waiting. No, no. Go. Do $ for 
 the mere decency of the thing. The flowers will be all withered 
 if you go later. Surely, after Mr. Showers has had such trouble 
 No, I am sure you will." 
 
 And with a pleasant smile and a sort of half nod, as of en- 
 couragement to her, he moved gaily away- She looked after 
 
161 Never Forgotten. 
 
 him with a half-wounded, half-astonished expression, then mt 
 Showers's troubled heart at rest by going with him. Fermor, at 
 the other end, watched them, smiling. He was infinitely 
 pleased with himself. 
 
 Strauss's Valse was now winding out again. He listened with 
 half-closed eyes as the music seemed to sway up and down. 
 Some floated by him as harmoniously as the music. Some one 
 touched him on the arm. It was the brother of Violet. 
 
 " Charming music," said Fermor, languidly. " Listen, now, 
 There, the subject comes in again." 
 
 "Yes," said the otiier, bluntly. "But it seems as if it has 
 made you forget Violet altogether. You were to dance with 
 her, were you not ?" 
 
 Fermor, becoming hard and cold, lifted his eyes, as who 
 should say, " Well ? Granted." 
 
 " You were to dance with Violet," continued the other, more 
 loudly 5 "and made a sort of point of it to show her to the 
 company, you said." 
 
 Fermor felt his colour rising at the manner of all this. 
 "Well," he said; ""I intend to do so. The night is scarcely 
 over." 
 
 " Well ; better do it at once," said the brother. " I tell you 
 the truth, candidly though it is only a trifle, these suspenses 
 and agitations are not good for her. She has had too much of 
 them lately. You know, as well as we do, she is too delicate 
 to be trying experiments on. You insisted on her coming here." 
 
 " Trying experiments on!" said Fermor, his face darkening. 
 I don't follow." 
 
 " Yes," said the other, more hard still. He always showed 
 that he had no awe of Fermor. " She can't bear it. It is 
 cruel. She has been accustomed to be watched and petted and 
 treated with kindness among us all. It must be kept up, or 
 any coldness would kill her." 
 
 Fermor's chest was heaving, but he dreaded the absurdity of 
 quarrelling with any quasi relatives. "You will excuse me," he 
 said, calmly, "if I cannot understand you." 
 
 "Then we ought to understand each other,' said the other* 
 " She is too precious to us to let ceremony stand in the way." 
 
 "This is scarcely the place to enter on these matters," said 
 Fermor, bowing; "perhaps you would not mind concluding 
 your remarks in the morning. As to the dance, you may re- 
 assure yourself and your sisters ; I was just going. I assure you 
 I require no inspiration in such matters." 
 
The Ball. 163 
 
 He left young Manuel. 
 
 " Upon my word," he said to himself, " things are corning to 
 a nice pass. To be schooled and lectured by her sister, I sup- 
 pose 1 must put up with that $ but. from the brother I'll not 
 take it. I must show them they have not got quite a poor soul 
 among them. Upon my word ! As for Violet, poor child, she 
 is not accountable. But she is weak and foolish, and they do 
 what they like with her." 
 
 He was thinking whether he should go at once to take her. 
 Poor child, after all there should be indulgence for her, and she 
 was not responsible for these people about her. Raised seats in 
 tiers went round the room, and very far off he could see her face 
 looking out anxiously and painfully, as from a rock, expecting 
 succour. It looked so piteous, that he thought he would at once 
 walk across to her. 
 
 But here was Showers and his partner, homeward-bound from 
 the private view of the supper-room,. Showers was pettish. 
 He said his colonel wanted him. She was very silent, and 
 looked up at Fermor now and then timorously, as if half shy, 
 half afraid. He was gay and unconcerned. Just then Picini 
 from his gallery intoned Strauss once more. It was one of the 
 sad songs sung by a cornet. "Do you hear," said Fermor; 
 " one of those divine valses. You should be dancing, not sitting 
 down, to such music. Where is the wretched being who has 
 dared to be late ? Shall I fetch him ? " 
 
 "It is Mr. Showers," she said ; "but I am sure he will not 
 come. I am keeping you. You are dying to dance it." 
 
 "Well, I am," said he, "but as for looking for any one in 
 this place " 
 
 " How charming ! " she said 5 " I would give the world to be 
 dancing it." 
 
 "But you are engaged/ said Fermor, gravely. *' We must 
 respect these little obligations. As for me, I have served my 
 turn. I am fit only for being carried out, like the old Indians, 
 and left with a pot of rice on a mountain." 
 
 " No, no ! " she said ; " indeed I don't think so.'* 
 
 "I don't mean literally," he said, gravely. "Well, then, 
 putting off that ceremony for a few days," added Fermor, in his 
 gayest mood, " suppose we do try this valse ? Ah ! but Mr. 
 Showers ! " 
 
 "Oh, dontmmdhim!" 
 
 "Don't mind him!" said Fermor. "What, Showers, the 
 favoured, the admired, the man whom the world is talking of 
 
164 Never Forgotten. 
 
 and congratulating . What, not mind him 9 Can you be 
 serious ? " 
 
 She coloured. " It is all his fault/' she said, rising. " Would 
 you mind, now " 
 
 In a moment Strauss had engulfed them. They were floating 
 round. Fermor talked through the music (and through the 
 dancing), as they do in melodramas. Curiously, he had forgotten, 
 for the moment, other duties and other faces. No matter, the 
 night was long. 
 
 "The surprise of seeing you here to-night! said Fermor, 
 still in motion. " I had no idea of it. I begin to suspect a 
 mystery. Do explain." 
 
 Half a dozen turns more. Then she answered, with great 
 confidence, " I wished that is, papa and I wished that you 
 should see me in another character than that of an invalid. You 
 must have been quite weary of me in that shape." 
 
 The face of Fermor, which was over Miss Carlay a foot or so, 
 smiled with complacent triumph. 
 
 A few more turns. " I have never seen her yet," said she. 
 " Miss Violet. She is here, is she not ?" 
 
 "Oh yes,' 1 said he. " In the other room, 1 believe. And 
 now tell me why are you so curious ? " 
 
 She did not answer this direct question. " Do let us look for 
 them." 
 
 But Fermor was not so eager. "We shall find them,'' he 
 said, " when this crowd clears off a little. What boors these 
 countrymen are ! Sir, would you ? You are destroying this 
 lady's dress." This to a fatty harmless man, who staggered back 
 in dreadful confusion, with flames rushing to his face. 
 
 "I am afraid," she said, " this will be my only chance. For 
 I don't know," she continued, " did we tell you " (she knew 
 well she had not) " that we are leaving this place in a few days ? " 
 
 Fermor hastily drew rein, halted at a pillar. " Going away ! f ' 
 he said. 
 
 "Yes," she said. "I am v ery sorry, oh, so sorry. But we 
 are obliged." 
 
 " Oh, of course," said Fermor. " Why not ?" he was almost 
 going to add ; " you are not obliged to give notice to the whole 
 parish." "And when was this sudden move thought of, pray ?" 
 
 " Papa says so. Oh, I am so sorry. I was beginning to like 
 this place. Every one that I knew, at least was so kind 
 t me." 
 
The Ball 165 
 
 "I am sorry, too," said Fermor, "to lose my neighbours. 
 These things can't be helped. We must come and go it is a 
 law of the nineteenth century. We shall meet sometime and 
 somewhere, I suppose. " 
 
 " I hope so/' she said. 
 
 " And poor Showers/' he continued. "I hope you won't be 
 angry you know you have taught me to speak freely to you. 
 What is to become of him? I was under the impression at 
 least, his manner and behaviour made me think so that really 
 there was something 'auspicious/ as the newspapers say, on 
 foot. No ? Is he to follow ? or to wait, or >J 
 
 "Absurd!" she said, eagerly. "What ridiculous stories ! I 
 dislike him more than any one I have seen for years." 
 
 "Astonishing! Amazing!" said he. "And now," he 
 continued, smiling, "who is there, as a matter of mere 
 curiosity, that you like better than any one you have seen for 
 years ? " 
 
 Again here was the bird in the net ot the fpwler, as Fermor 
 wished it to be. The bird fluttered, grew nervous, did not 
 answer ; but would have answered presently, when Mr. 
 Carlay came up. "It is time to go away," he said. 
 
 Fermor took her down-stairs. " You must tell me these 
 secrets another time. I may be useful to coniult," he said, as 
 he put on her cloak. " I shall certainly call in to-morrow 5 " 
 then went back jubilant ; then he thought, with a start, of 
 Violet. For though the night was long, he had detained her a 
 little. But the wistful faee was gone from the rock. He could 
 not find them anywhere. "Gone in to supper, I- suppose," he 
 thought, with unreasonable resentment. He was turning away 
 when he was touched on the arm. 
 
 "Good gracious! Hanbury ! Mr. Hanbury ? " Fermor said, 
 " I was told that you were gone away, and that you had made 
 all your farewells in due form." 
 
 "I have come back," said the other, coldly; "and it seems 
 not a bit too soon," 
 
 "That is for yourself, of course, ' said Fermor, now relapsing 
 into himself} "at least, so far as I can make you out. Excuse 
 me, I am going to have some supper." 
 
 Hanbury happily crushed and repulsed, Fermor went, had 
 supper, and drank champagne. He was very elated with the 
 events of that night with the dramatic events; he had acted 
 the Jeune Premier. As he was putting the flask down, he felt 
 
1 66 Never Forgotten. 
 
 a lowering face on him, like a cloud overhead. "What, fol- 
 lowed me here?" he said, smiling. "Going to have some 
 supper ? Try that you know I am host here." 
 
 The other put him away, as it were impatiently, with his 
 hand. " Fermor, I have been here," he said, "the whole 
 evening. And I have seen it all." 
 
 Fermor laid down his glass on the table, and said, "Indeed!" 
 
 " Yes," said the other, speaking very fast, " from the begin- 
 ning of the night to the end. It was very cold and cruel. I 
 could not have believed it, if any one had told me. But I am 
 glad I am here myself. I should never have gone away." 
 
 " Now, if I might ask," said Fermor, trying to steady his 
 voice, " what does all this mean ? " 
 
 " I never saw such a change ! " said the other. " It makes 
 my heart bleed to look at her. Poor, poor child ! Oh, Fermor, 
 you ought to blush. They have gone home wretched. You 
 will kill her!" 
 
 " This is getting unbearable," said Fermor, losing all patience j 
 " it must be stopped. Do you think you have a right to come 
 and lecture me ? I suppose you have received your instructions. 
 But I tell you what, Mr. Hanbury, I am too old to be schooled 
 now, by you or any one else. Your brusque and honest can- 
 dour must select some other object for its confidence: it is dis- 
 agreeable to me. Upon my word we are coming to a charming 
 pass." 
 
 "Oh," said the other, just as excitedly. "You must hear 
 the truth at all risks ! I suppose you think, because there are 
 two poor helpless girls, with a more helpless mother " 
 
 "Then you shall hear the truth too," said Fermor, turning 
 round on him angrily. " You shall hear, that it is exceedingly 
 improper to thrust yourself into my concerns. A very great 
 liberty ! There! This fine candour and manly qualities won't 
 be your privilege, I can tell you. I look on your interference 
 as exceedingly ill judged, and, if it is pursued further, I shall 
 have to give you a serious lesson, my good friend." (Fermor 
 threw all the insult of voice and manner he could muster into 
 this speech.) 
 
 "And you can speak to me in this way after your conduct," 
 said the other, also angry. "Very well " 
 
 Two arms opened between, in gentle expostulation. " Hush ! 
 hush ! My good friends," said Sir Hopkins, "you are talking 
 very loud. You don't want the whole room, I am sure, to 
 assist at this little discussion, o)t> ? " Some stray ca$a who had 
 
The Ball. 167 
 
 dropped in now that work was nearly over and they had 
 earned their crust for a solitary and substantial repast, had been 
 drawing near, attracted by the sound of loud voices. 
 
 " Hush ! " said Sir Hopkins again. "We can talk this over 
 in the morning. Come with me, Charles. This way, down 
 towards this chicken salad. Everything here seems excellent. 
 Champagne, please. No, not in that glass. There; thanks. 
 Now I think I am complete." And stooping down over his 
 supper, Sir Hopkins said, in a low voice, fikered, as it were, 
 through his chicken and his salad, "Admirable, Charles! I 
 : aeard the whole. You cut him up like a melon." 
 
 "Such a thing!" said Fermor, still furious. "Everybody 
 seems to think they are entitled to bring me to book. I believe 
 he is set on employed by the family-^for this work." 
 
 " Is there any bread, I wonder ? " Sir Hopkins said, looking 
 up and down the table anxiously. " I dare say you have re- 
 marked, at balls, the bread always gets away, behind somewhere. 
 Ah ! my little rustic ! was she here to-night ? " 
 
 "Ah ! that's the cry now" said Fermor, indignantly 3 "wast- 
 ing away. 1, of course, wearing her into the grave." 
 
 "What nonsense ! " said Sir Hopkins. "Who says this? The 
 sister, I suppose ? " 
 
 " Exactly, sir. Always to this one tune. I am getting 
 sick of it." 
 
 "Ah ! " said Sir Hopkins, "fine woman that, but knows what 
 she is about. Can see that in her eye. She will pull the whole 
 family through the world. Mark my words, settle them all 
 well, even to the mother, / know the sort of woman exactly. 
 I dare say takes a little of the schoolmistress on her. Now may 
 I give you a scrap of advice. You are a man of the world, and 
 I may speak freely to you." 
 
 " Oh," said Fermor, coldly, " your experience is always 
 useful" 
 
 " Yes," said the other. " But, on principle, never let them 
 school you. On principle, mind. They will encroach until 
 you find yourself growing down every day into a chikL You 
 know this yourself as well as /do." 
 
 "Exactly, sir," said Fermor, eagerly 5 " that is the view that 
 has guided me all through." 
 
 "I thought so," said the other. "(My dear Charles, tlrere 
 was a Seltzer-water bottle here a moment ago, and some one 
 has carried it off. Thanks.) No, I am serious. You are quite 
 right in makia ft stand against these people. I assure you, J 
 
1 68 Never Forgotten. 
 
 tell you candidly, I quite admire the spirit, as well as tile clevef 
 Diplomacy, that has regulated your behaviour. You see I have 
 been watching. And as for the capital manner in which you 
 disposed of that rough person just now, who, no doubt, as you 
 said, was set on by others to that particular duty, it quite com- 
 mands my admiration. You want no advice, my dear fellow. 
 Who are they, by-the-bye ? " he added, growing a little confused. 
 
 " I don't know, I am sure, sir," said Fermor. "It is rather 
 too late, I fear, to be thinking of that, now." 
 
 Sir Hopkins looked up at him from his chicken salad. " No, 
 Charles, that is quite a false impression. Even after a treaty is 
 signed, we that is, nous autres can have ' a rectification/ as it 
 is called. We can never be too late with anything excepting 
 death and actual marriage. Never, Charles." 
 
 The ball was breaking up. The company were drifting away 
 like sheep. The ground was open and clear as a prairie, and a 
 few untired couples were flying round wildly. Picini, fresh as 
 at the beginning, was leading on one of his most desperate 
 galops. It seemed to echo down like music in a church, the 
 floor was so clear. 
 
 Shawls and opera cloaks were being put on. A universal 
 hymn and responses were heard on all sides. " Such a delightful 
 evening! Enjoyed ourselves $0 much!" To which military 
 choristers in scarlet surplices would answer, in full acclaim, 
 " Aw ! so pleased, aw ! Quite glad you liked it 'pon word 
 am!" as though under a tacit suspicion of insincerity, and the 
 speaker was anxious to clear himself. 
 
 Fermor, coming out full of pride and excitement, met his 
 mother and sisters at the door, in the act of being shawled and 
 clothed. They were in the hands of a band of admiring men. 
 "Such a charming evening!" whispered Lady Laura, whom 
 long service had trained to business, and who always brought a 
 large white bag, easily recognisable, and marked " L.F." (" Your 
 worsted shoes, my dear, are at the bottom of the bag.") " Mr. 
 Piper, Charles, has been so kind. Only for him I don't know 
 how we should have managed. Charles ! Mr. Piper my son !" 
 And Charles found himself introduced to a bashful child, little 
 older than one of the regimental drummer-boys. " Next brother 
 to Sir Thomas. No children," she whispered Charles. "Quite 
 taken with Alicia." Alas ! at every entertainment there was to 
 be always the typical man, who was "quite taken with Alicia." 
 
 "By the way," she continued, "we were all admiring that 
 
TJte &all. 169 
 
 striking-looking girl you were with. Who is she, my dear? 
 Such style, and quite an air. I was struck by her. The only 
 decent person I have seen here. Come, dears. Mr. Piper, you 
 won't forget ? Any day, at three. You will always find some 
 of us in." 
 
 Fermor turned back into the rooms again. It was over. 
 Picini was disbanding his forces. Sleeping violins were being 
 tucked away in snug green-baize cradles. Fermor looked up at 
 them. Major Carter came glissading to him over the smooth floor. 
 
 "Dear Captain Fermor/' he said, "I am so glad to meet you. 
 Going home ? Would you mind letting me walk with you ? I 
 have something to tell you." 
 
 Fermor was gracious. " Come in here and have some wine." 
 
 " Most kind of you. I should like it of all things. That 
 :.uan Hanbury where is he ? he was skulking about here just 
 now." 
 
 Fermor helped himself. He had not had too much, nor was 
 he going to have too much -, but good wine made him talk with 
 eagerness, and a sort of fervour. 
 
 " I know," he said. " He has honoured me with some of his 
 instructions. But I fancy /gave him a lesion instead." 
 
 "I heard," said the major, smiling. " It was admirable, I 
 am told. So quietly and gentlemanly, and, at the same time, 
 so determined. He has not got over it yet." 
 
 "The idea!" said Fermor. "There's a set of them that 
 think they have a right to come up one after the other and 
 lecture me. I won't stand it, Major Carter. I have made up 
 my mind this night. I won't stand it. What relation has this 
 man to me ? What right has he, because he is a great strong 
 animal, and rides strong horses ay, and can ride gentlemen 
 down, too to come and hector me ? I won't take it from any 
 man." 
 
 "Oh, of course," said the major, filling his glass, "he has his 
 instructions. It's only natural. He is still kept on, you see. 
 Uncommon clever that of them." 
 
 "Ah! you think so too?" said Fermor, eagerly. "Do you 
 know, the same idea occurred to me, and to Sir Hopkins." 
 
 "I was sure you would see it in that way," said the major, 
 selecting a bon-bon in the shape of a mushroom. " I suppose 
 he was sent for." 
 
 " Sent for !" said Fermor, scornfully. " They may send for a 
 dozen more like him. But that won't do." 
 
 They were now getting their coats and hats. 
 
170 Never Forgotten. 
 
 "By the way, Showers ah, Captain Fermor!" and Major 
 Carter shook his head profoundly. He had a young man's hat 
 and a young man's cape, and, under the lamps, looked as fresh 
 as any young man. "I met him going out, absolutely raving 
 and imprecating. I never saw such a beating ! You have 
 thrashed him morally." 
 
 "Oh, nonsense!" said Fermor, smiling. 
 
 They were now in the street. It was half-past four, and very 
 cold, clear, and bright. 
 
 "Would you take my arm?" 
 
 Fermor did so graciously. 
 
 "Ah, you have known me only a very short time, and I have 
 no right to speak freely about your affairs. I know you don't 
 permit it, even with men who are old friends, and I must say I 
 admire that reserve and restraint in you. But I will say I am 
 sorry I am." 
 
 " You mean ?" said Fermor. 
 
 " I mean, I am sorry to see the way your generous conduct 
 has been received. I don't like it," said the major, with grow- 
 ing warmth. A man does a chivalrous thing ^ there are people 
 by to work on his pity and appeal to his sympathies. / under- 
 stand that sort of pressure. But he shouldn't be taken advantage 
 of. No. I confess I took another view at the beginning 5 so 
 did Sir Hopkins ; so would any man of the world. But that is 
 the way with a certain class of people. They will always 
 encroach." 
 
 Fermor did not resent this free view of his affairs. " It is not 
 so bad as that. I suppose they mean well. !fet I am afraid 
 there is something in what you say," he said. 
 
 " If/' continued Major Carter, expostulating, "they were of 
 quality, one might put up with a good deal, but when we hear 
 such stories " 
 
 "Oh, I know all that" said Fermor, drawing himself up 
 sensitively. "I ascertained all that beforehand. The er 
 wine business, and all that. Younger sons of the best families 
 have often been put into that sort of thing." 
 
 "No I did not mean that," said the major; "but really I 
 feel a delicacy in touching but I have correspondents every- 
 where, and I confess some stories have reached me." 
 
 "Indeed!" said Fermor, eagerly. " Of what description, pray?" 
 
 " Oh, I had rather not. People write me everything. This 
 was from old Foley, who served in Spain. Some other time." 
 
 " Oh I " said Fermor, excitedly, "if there was anything like 
 
" Jane" the fairy Godmother. 171 
 
 concealment in the business, I never could bear that. No feel- 
 ings of pity or regard would stand in my way." 
 
 " We shall see about it another time," said the major. " How 
 cold it is ! I declare here are my lodgings ! You see / have my 
 latch-key like the young fellows. Good night ! " 
 
 " Good morning ! " said Fermor. 
 
 " Ha, ha ! very good, very good," said the major, laughing 
 heartily. " Only for my known character, what things would 
 be said of me! Good morning, then !" 
 
 This was the end of the Eastport ball. For many people in 
 the Eastport colony it was an epoch to look back on. To East- 
 port girls it seemed like their first pantomime 5 Eastport youths 
 it hopelessly unsettled! Young Mr. Piper, a military " child," 
 and whose years should have protected him from " undue in- 
 fluence," was sent away home, raging with a frantic passion for 
 Alicia Mary. That virgin had at last struck fire. But in Fermor 
 it had wrought the most striking change of all. In the morning 
 he looked back at the land on which he had been standing the 
 evening before, as it were across a river, and the Manuel Family 
 had not come over with him. 
 
 CHAPTER THE SEVENTH. 
 
 " JANE," THE FAIRY GODMOTHER. 
 
 THE night of that Eastport festival, which for many young 
 girls in Eastport was a night of sweet and exquisite dreams, 
 in which lovely scarlet angels floated quite glorified, was for 
 Violet the most wretched of her life. All her thoughts were 
 seething and boiling in that small head 5 her bed seemed to be 
 turned into a furnace j and when day came, and the steady day- 
 light of nine o'clock, she rose up exhausted and trembling, with 
 a worn face, but with eyes that sparkled like the lamps of the 
 night before. 
 
 Pauline the anxious sister came into Violet's room as soon 
 as she heard her stirring. She found her hot and flushed. 
 There was a little wildness, too, in her eyes. She had, in truth, 
 never slept. 
 
 "Darling Violet," said her sister, going up to her, "this is 
 dreadful. You will wear yourself into the grave. Your heart 
 cannot bear it, I know it cannot/' 
 
1 71 Never Forgotten. 
 
 "I am better this morning," she said, "much better if 1 
 could only make myself sleep." 
 
 Pauline looked at her, irresolute as to how she should begin. 
 "We have been thinking and talking over that ball of last 
 night ; and now, my dear darling Violet, this is to be considered, 
 and is worth considering. You were very happy a short time 
 ago we were all very happy until certain things took place,, 
 and you are not strong, and much anxiety or sorrow would wear 
 you out. Now, dearest, is it not-better, before it is too late, to 
 have courage to go back ? I fear we have made a mistake. We, 
 I say, who ought to have been more sensible, and to have known 
 better. Now what we have thought is this and it is a cruel 
 thing, darling, to propose would it not be better, after last 
 night, to have done with this altogether? " 
 
 Violet's glistening eyes had been widening and distending all 
 this time. It was only at the last word that she caught her 
 sister's meaning. She broke out in a fright. 
 
 " No, no ! I cannot I could not. And to come from me ! 
 No, I could not, indeed," she added, piteously. 
 
 "Ah," said Pauline, in tones of the softest cosnpassion, "that 
 is it, darling. Is it not better that it should come from you, than 
 that " 
 
 "What!'' said the other, excitedly. "Do you know any- 
 thing? Do you believe it ? Do you " 
 
 She was so excited that her sister said to her, " No, no ! it is 
 only that I fear. You know you said it yourself last night. We, 
 who have seen a little more of the world than you, dearest, 
 understand the meanings of little signs, which you would pass 
 by. Indeed, it is better, Violet, that you should see it now, 
 than see it later." 
 
 "Then you have heard something. He told you last night," 
 said Violet, distractedly. "Oh, I had a presentiment that this 
 was coming ! " And she lay back on the sofa and panted ner- 
 vously, and a look of scared terror came to her face that quite 
 alarmed Pauline. She ran to her. 
 
 ' It is nothing," she said. "I am all wrong, indeed I am. I 
 know nothing, and have heard nothing upon my word and 
 honour, as I stand here, I have not. It is only some of my 
 foolish sense and caution. Won't you believe me when I tell 
 you so ? " 
 
 The other raised herself, drew a slow sigh of relief, then gave 
 a child's smile. 
 
 " Oh, you so terrified me," she said. " I am getting so foolish 
 
"Jane" the Fairy Godmother. 173 
 
 and nervous. But it is nonsense, all nonsense," she added with 
 a pretty wisdom. "I know Charles so well now better than 
 you, Pauline. And he has these ways, which are ways of his 
 own. And you know he has told us over and over again that he 
 hates that public exhibiting and ' engagements on view,' as he 
 calls it. I thought it all over, and made it out quite clear. He 
 never does anything without a purpose, and I shouldn't be sur- 
 prised," she added, with a sudden flash of gaiety, "if he really 
 was what he calls trying me. Ah, there it is ! " 
 
 Her sister was so relieved at this change from a scene she 
 dreaded, and almost delighted that she accepted this far-fetched 
 fancy, with her arms about the fluttering Violet, even fortified 
 it. She was sure it was so ; was confident that out of his sensi- 
 tiveness he had planned this little experiment. And presently 
 the sisters, by mutual encouragement, had worked it into actual 
 pleasant proof of attachment and devotion ; and Violet, as if 
 then was now, finding something to rejoice at, said, with alacrity, 
 that she would now come down. 
 
 The maid who had now a long time ago thought Fermor 
 "lovely/' had come in, busy with shutters and curtains. She 
 saw Violet's worn face, the weary lines of pain upon her cheeks, 
 and the tightened look about her forehead. More significant 
 still were her strained eyes. She was a " smart " girl, and glow- 
 ing ribbons always were fluttering from her caps like pennants 
 from a mast. All through she had taken a deep interest in the 
 love affair, and, strange to say,, knew perfectly all the ebbs and 
 flows of that uncertain current. For Fermor she had the deepest 
 admiration. Could any one have introduced the well-known 
 Apollo Belvidere into her associations, that famous type of plastic 
 beauty would have exactly satisfied hei as a standard for her 
 hero. She yearned for some such type, and yet the hero him- 
 self, when she threw open the door for him, hurried past her 
 upstairs, not rude or blunt, but wholly unconscious of her, 
 and of all the ribbon-flags with which she was purposely 
 "dressed." 
 
 She had long guessed the state of things The flags were 
 often at the mast-head foi a salute ; but the personage to be 
 saluted did not come. The two sisters were fond of her, and 
 talked with her often. She amused them with legends of the 
 ladies and gentlemen of her own sphere. Not that they needed 
 gossip: but when she was busy with their dresses, and Violet 
 sat with her long hair like a nun's veil on her head, "Jane," 
 bu*y with the brush, poured out a stream of curious speculations, 
 
1^4 Never Forgotten. 
 
 odd rumours, and dark suspicions which were rife in trie society 
 she affected. But in Violet she had a greater confidence. 
 
 She had sore suspicions about this business 5 and being, after 
 all, an honest girl, was a little troubled in mind. At the same 
 time she was convinced that the whole affair had been "mis- 
 managed." The hero she judged indulgently, as being only 
 like other heroes, in all ranks. But there were certain little 
 rules and traditions, without which affairs of this kind would 
 never go well. These she had seen applied with success, in the 
 instances of lovers down-stairs. Down-stairs, sighing coachmen 
 and eligible valets, in the progress of their courtship, were treated 
 with studied scorn and elaborate contumely, when other ladies 
 and gentlemen were present ; and this, it was felt, showed the 
 power of the cruel fair, and piqued the ardour of the swain. 
 With wonder and surprise Jane saw the total neglect of these 
 wholesome principles, and from the beginning augured the 
 worst. 
 
 Before that morning she had learnt the whole history of the 
 ball. Through the interest of Fermor's esquire a pleasant 
 officer with whom she was intimate she had secured the privi- 
 lege of being present. That gentleman had even gone further, 
 and with a soldier's thoughtfulness had borne her secret cakes, 
 and yet more secret refreshment. The maid had therefore 
 seen the whole from a gallery, and she was determined that 
 morning to "speak her mind" while there was yet time. 
 
 Violet was a little hurried and excited in her speech as she 
 dressed. "Did I look well, Jane, last night?" she asked. 
 " They told me I did, and 1 am sure we did all we could." 
 
 " Lovely, lovely, miss ! " said Jane -, " but I am afraid you're 
 not well to-day." 
 
 " I could not sleep," said Violet, nervously ; " never closed 
 my eyes once the whole night. I don't know what is the 
 reason." 
 
 " It was a beautiful ball, miss," said Jane, abruptly, and 
 brushing with great activity. 
 
 " Oh, you were there ! " said Violet, with a little start. "To 
 be sure, I knew you were." 
 
 "Yes, miss; Mr. Bates, that is, the captain's gentleman, was 
 good enough to put me in the front seat of the gallery. (He 
 has great interest, you know.) And I saw you, miss, the whole 
 night." 
 
 " Yes, ' snid Violet, hurriedly j " I did not care to dance ; I 
 had a headache \ I was dying to be at home again. Oh, Jane," 
 
the fairy godmother. i/\ 
 
 she said, turning suddenly, " I am very wretched and miserable ; 
 and, Jane, what is to become of me? " And Violet began to 
 sob hysterically. 
 
 Jane had laid down her brushes, and was soothing her like an 
 infant. " Now, now, miss, you must not. This is what wears 
 you so don't think of it, it will all come all right." 
 
 Violet was now in spasms of agitation. She got up suddenly, 
 and went over to the bed, on which she flung herself. The 
 maid looked on in sore distress. Not for many minutes could 
 all her soothing take effect. 
 
 Poor Violet felt she could confide in her, as indeed she might. 
 " O Jane, Jane, and before them all too, was it not dreadful! 
 Not that I mind that. But I fear I do so fear that they 
 have been changing him to me I know they have." 
 
 "No, no, miss," the maid said with a smile of superiority. 
 " Not at all, not at all ! you make too much of it, miss, indeed 
 you do. /know what it is." 
 
 Violet became earnest, and looked at her steadily. "Ah ; . 
 What is it ?" she said. 
 
 Jane was thinking of the tactique popular below. " Why it's 
 all wrong, miss, you know. The thing has been mismanaged, 
 I've seen it all along." 
 
 So poor Violet, thus catching eagerly at any plank, and be- 
 seeching her to tell, Jane became like an old fairy godmother, 
 whom this young creature had come to consult, and to get 
 advice. With great wisdom (and with some difficulty in the 
 choice of words, for Jane had delicacy), and at leisurely length, 
 the maid expounded the true secret of success in such affairs, 
 and the little old-fashioned amatory cruelties which still obtained 
 in the servants' hall. 
 
 " It don't do, you see, miss," said the fairy godmother, "to 
 let a gentleman come too easy, or come too often. They 
 don't like it themselves, don't the gentlemen. Bless you, my 
 dear miss, it's as old as the hills. There are days," added 
 Jane, as an illustration, "when I make believe not to see Mr. 
 Bates, it might be in the street, or it might be on the road ; 
 and though I don't pretend to say that there's anything going 
 on there, still, miss, you can have no manner of idea how he 
 does take it. You see, when they have it all their own way, 
 they come to take it as easy as anything." 
 
 This seemed like truth to Violet, to whom anything like a 
 little salvation in this emergency was welcome. Her eyes dis- 
 tended, and her breath came and went as the fairy godmother 
 
I J 6 Never Forgotten. 
 
 explained the mystery. The introduction of Mr. Bates as an 
 illustration to the workings of the charm on him especially, did 
 not import any burlesque into the matter. She even began to 
 regard him with an interest which would have amazed that 
 simple soldier. She was told how on certain days he was re- 
 ceived with an unbounded affection, purposely exaggerated to 
 lead him into some slight forwardness; which, on the next 
 occasion, would be seized on as an opening for treating him 
 with the most mortifying and insulting neglect. A short course of 
 this fitful treatment was enough to " take him down " not only 
 to take him down, but to reduce him to an unmanly and grovel- 
 ling degradation. From whence he would be as unexpectedly 
 and as unreasonably lifted from this level to the sunshine of 
 unbounded favour by a mere smile. 
 
 "But," said the fairy godmother, coming more to the point, 
 " if there was another gentleman, miss, as could be found and 
 I know of such as could easily be got, and willing, and whose 
 place, indeed, by rights it ought to be that were the real 
 way !" 
 
 Violet's eyes opened still wider. She coloured a little, for she 
 understood. 
 
 The captain, went on the fairy godmother, w r as a charming 
 gentleman, so fine and so high in his manners. But all gentle- 
 men were the same in that point. They required to be " kept 
 up and stirred." Now, couldn't Miss Violet just try it a little 
 ever so little and see how it would answer ? Not to be 
 just "quite so ready," but more " stand off/' and, above all, 
 just "lean ever so little" to that good but "soft" gentleman, 
 Mr. Hanbury. Mark her words, if in a day or two the remedy 
 had not the most startling result. 
 
 The child Violet listened, first with curiosity, then with hope, 
 then with confidence, finally with devotion. Here was a 
 reasonable chance. She caught at it. She began to think 
 herself a mere infant, whose own folly was the cause of all ; but 
 here was a sensible woman come to advise her, but happily not 
 called in too late. 
 
 "Now, miss," said the godmother, "there's another thing. 
 We might have the two gentlemen together here of a night , 
 just a nice little party of a dozen to look on 5 for it's the leing 
 done before people that makes all the effect. No gentleman, 
 miss, likes to see another gentleman put up before him, where 
 there's people by, As sure as I am standing here, miss, if you 
 get your mamma to have a few people in to tea, and have 
 
" Jane" the Fairy Godmother. 1^7 
 
 the two gentlemen together, and be a little partial to Mr. 
 Hanbury, giving him his tea first" said the adviser, mysteriously, 
 ce or sitting with him in a corner, or even," added Jane, with a 
 little hesitation for she was not certain whether the mark of 
 favour was so firmly established above as it was below stairs 
 " setting aflowcr in his button-hole; as sure as you do this, every- 
 thing will be well in the morning." More particular details, 
 then, of this infallible nostrum she then disclosed, leaning on 
 them so earnestly, that she had Violet gazing at her as intently 
 as though she were a physician telling of a certain cure for ill- 
 ness. The physician even inspired such hopes and confidence, 
 that Violet began to question, a little nervously, whether that 
 little gallantry about the flower and button-hole on which her 
 adviser seemed to rest above all might not be introduced, with, 
 of course, some dexterity. The poor child was so trusting, and 
 so accustomed to lean upon every one for assistance, that it was 
 easy to persuade her. So when her dressing was over, she had 
 been changed into a little conspirator; for from, the straight- 
 forward Pauline but who, indeed, was conspiring in her own 
 way it was thought best to conceal the whole. 
 
 Early that morning came in Hanbury. They had not seen 
 him the night before. This was a thin, sad, unhearty man, a 
 sort of changeling Hanbury. 
 
 Pauline started. " Come back?" she said. 
 " Yes," he answered, gloomily j " and you will own, not an 
 hour too soon." He then told her of his quarrel with Fermor. 
 " He has shown himself in his true colours," he added, speaking 
 fast, "for which we should all be thankful. I have found him 
 out to be what I always thought him, a cold, calculating, heart- 
 less line gentleman. I have given him a lesson, and shall teach 
 him a little more yet." 
 
 Pauline had listened with gathering wonder and even dread. 
 " Oh, folly ! folly !" she said. " What have you been doing ?" 
 " Doing!" said he; " I have saved her. I have at least that 
 to comfort me ; I have been of some use. You think I have some 
 selfish view. Ah, no ! I have long since given over that dream." 
 
 " Oh, what have you been doing?" said Pauline again. "1 
 know you did not mean it, but everything is turning out so 
 unfortunate. Surely, to quarrel with him with Violet's hus- 
 band you might have known " 
 
 "But," he said, "you cannot mean you don't suppose, after 
 last night, that this will go on ! Though women believe to the 
 end! But I know what his game is." 
 
 N 
 
178 Never Forgo tten. 
 
 "Hush! hush, said Pauline, rising 5 "we must not think of 
 this. Oh, you should not have done that. He will think we 
 have set you on, and he is so proud he will resent. No. Oh, 
 Hanbury, cannot you see that Violet's whole soul and life is 
 bound up in him ? She believes in him still, and ivill believe 
 through everything." 
 
 Hanbury looked at her, confounded. He gave a groan. " It 
 is to be always the same with me the same stupid blundering 
 John Hanbury to the end. I am very miserable and very 
 unfortunate. And what am I to do?" 
 
 "Lose not a moment; go to him at once," said Pauline, hur- 
 riedly, "we can only repair the mischief as well as we can." 
 
 " Go to him and after that ? " 
 
 " Go go to him and tell him you are sorry. You know how 
 men make these things up. 3 ' 
 
 " Sorry ! " said he, a little distractedly. " Oh, I can't do that ! 
 You don't know all that has passed the words he used to me, 
 which I could not pass over. Indeed I could not." 
 
 "But it must be set right. You don't know what mischief 
 you may have done." Then, as Hanbury seemed irresolute, 
 she added, after a pause: "I thought you would have done 
 anything for Violet." 
 
 : What does it matter," he said, " after all ? First wretched- 
 ness, now degradation. I care very little now. With all my 
 heart, then." 
 
 "Ah, if you had seen her," said the sister, earnestly, "how 
 her heart is set on this affair, how her life is bound up how 
 her little soul is wearing away " 
 
 "To be sure," said he, eagerly. "How selfish I have been. 
 Of course it must be done. I will go at once." 
 
 "Always generous, noble, kind," said Pauline, taking his 
 hand. " You talk of selfishness. At this moment I blush for 
 myself. But we know not where to turn to, and moments are 
 precious and slipping away, and this is our treasure, our only 
 treasure." 
 
 Then Hanbury hurried out of the room. 
 
Amende. 1 79 
 
 CHAPTER THE EIGHTH. 
 
 , who had risen late, looking back uneasily to the 
 night before, as to a strange country through which he 
 had driven, and brooding over his injuries, was walking up and 
 down his room. He was still on the other side of the river, 
 looking across ; and on the opposite bank were the same figures 
 standing there, but with another light on them. In fact, they 
 were other figures. 
 
 A letter was presently brought in to him. It was from Sir 
 Hopkins Pocock, and ran : 
 
 "DEAR CHARLES, Could you spate me twenty minutes thit 
 morning? " H. P." 
 
 Fermor lost no time in going. He found Sir Hopkins at his 
 desk, with official blue paper before him, and the papers in the 
 despatch-box overflowing their banks a sure symptom of heavy 
 business. He laid down his pen and smiled. 
 
 " Well, Charles. How do you feel after your ball ? Really 
 done uncommonly well. Wonderful ! I was really greatly 
 pleased. I have not tasted a better mayonaise I don't know 
 when." 
 
 Fermor said he was glad that he was pleased -, then looked 
 restlessly at the overflowing papers. 
 
 "I have been a good deal over the world, as you know," 
 continued Sir Hopkins, leaning back in his chair, and laying the 
 tips of his fingers together as though he had sent for Fermor 
 specially to tell him this. "And men out there are always 
 getting up things of that kind. But they break down. Why? 
 What would you say, now, was the reason ?" 
 
 Fermor moved restlessly in his chair. " It is hard to say," he 
 said. " By the way, sir, I think you had something to men- 
 tion - " 
 
 Sir Hopkins F.ucldenly drew in his chair to the table, and 
 became grave and official. 
 
 "I have this morning," he said, "been favoured with a despatch 
 from her Majesty's Under Secretary of State for the Colonies 
 the Right Honourable Harding Hanaper, M.P. That despatch 
 is dated yesterday morning. It would seem, Charles," he added 
 becoming suddenly unofficial, " they desire my services onc6 
 more. An important dependency the name I am not at liberty 
 
180 Never Forgotten. 
 
 to mention will be vacant in a week or two, and I leave this 
 to-morrow morning." 
 
 " Yes, sir," said Fermor nervously. 
 
 "Well," said Sir Hopkins. "I sent for you because I knew 
 it would interest you. I dare say it is about the most important 
 news that has come to this little settlement for many months. 
 No one," he added, looking at the large envelope with, re- 
 flective complacency, "would suppose that this little paper con- 
 tained such grave tidings and such responsibility. Of course 
 there are drawbacks. Now they will begin worrying me out 
 out of my life with applications. It is almost as bad as the new 
 manager of a theatre. Fancy, only yesterday came a letter, in 
 anticipation, from my old friend Showers of course about his 
 young fellow. I can't well refuse him. I am writing to him 
 by this post." 
 
 Pride and mortification came to Fermor's face in the shape of 
 colour. He rose to go. 
 
 " Candidly, my dear Charles, I am a little disappointed about 
 you -, for I have a great opinion of your sense, and I did think 
 there was in you all the materiel of a diplomatist 3 'pon my 
 soul I did. But you know when I heard of that hem 
 marriage of yours, and saw that when I asked, ' Where is the 
 money ? ' and got no answer ' Where was the love and folly 
 and that sort of thing?' and got no answer and 'Where was 
 the connexion?' and heard something about a wine merchant 
 when, in short, I found the business could be accounted for by 
 no known reason on the face of God's earth," he added, 
 excitedly, making these words fall like little sharp taps of a 
 hammer, " why, I shook, my head and said : ' He will hardly do 
 for a diplomatist 5 he will hardly do for me. Or he doesn't 
 like it, or want it perhaps.' There, Charles ! There's the candour 
 you always like. But it is the truth, on my soul ! " 
 
 Fermor stood biting his lip and colouring. He was deeply 
 hurt. He did not answer for a few moments. 
 
 " Not like it ! why if there is a thing in the world 
 
 But I was' afraid of this, sir," he said, at last. " But I see it is 
 hopeless to think of altering your opinion." 
 
 " Good gracious ! " said Sir Hopkins, starting up and seizing 
 him by the hand. " How you do misconstrue one! Am I not 
 your relative ? Do you suppose I would not like to do all i 
 could for you ? But I must look to myself. It is a load of re- 
 sponsibility. How could I be dragging about with me an im- 
 poverished assistant we are speaking candidly recollect with 
 
Amende. 181 
 
 what is called ' a struggling family.' These poor girls always 
 have large families , they can't help it. I couldn't do it." 
 
 " But you don't consider, sir," said Fermor, fretfully, " a man's 
 position. His honour is often engaged. You don't know 
 everything. It is impossible to resist an appeal made to your 
 sympathy and even compassion. It is not so easy as you think, 
 sir." 
 
 Sir Hopkins's lip curled. "Now, now, my de ar fellow 
 come ! That sort of thing may do with boys of twenty. A 
 delicate school-girl's tears ! It is simply absurd among grown- 
 up people. I can understand it at a ball, where the wine makes 
 a man do many a foolish thing ; but in broad daylight If that 
 is all you are going on, it is nonsensical. I tell you, if you were 
 my son, this moment I would walk straight out of this house to 
 those people, and settle it off in half an hour. It's arrant : 
 shameful! 'pon my word it's shameful,' Sir Hopkins added, 
 with warmth. 
 
 Fermor stood there with his eyes fixed upon the ground. He 
 felt full of foolishness and of shame in the presence of this 
 sensible man who had seen the world. 
 
 " I have no business to talk on this matter to you, I know. 
 Egad I have not. And it seems harsh and cruel and worldly, 
 but I have vour interest at heart, and the girl's too, I can tell 
 you. O, I know the whole thing. It's a duty, Charles, as you 
 have invited free speech in me, to set these things before you. 
 Besides, who are they ? Are they in Burke ? No. Are they 
 in the Blue Book? No. Where in God's name are they? 
 Wine merchants ! Heaven bless me 1 A whole French 
 romance about wine merchants ! Besides, those stories ! 
 They should be looked into. I don't mind stories about men. 
 There were heaps flying about Lord Poolbeg ; but about a 
 whole family !" 
 
 "Stories! Ah! yes. But I never heard," said' Fermor, 
 eagerly. 
 
 " Of course you didn't," said his friendly adviser. " That 
 would scarcely happen. You don't expect people of that sort 
 to take you into the parlour, and say, 'My dear sir, there are 
 such and such stories about us, which it is right you should 
 know.' Scarcely, I think. No ; ask Carter, who knows 
 everybody, he has picked them up somewhere." 
 
 "Yes, he did hint something to me last night," said Fermor, 
 growing excited. 
 
 "Naturally," said Sir Hopkins. "It is not pleasant to do 
 
182 Never Forgotten. 
 
 such things. I assure you I don't like it at this moment. But 
 there I must go back to my letters. Time and tide, you know 
 and the Under-Secretaries wait for no man. At least, 
 they'll blow you up afterwards. I am very glad I have spoken 
 to you candidly. I should have gone away under a complete 
 misapprehension, otherwise. I tell you what if I can be of 
 any use by way of advice or action, use me. And I tell you 
 what besides as I am writing to Harding Hanaper, I can 
 mention your name if you like." Fermor made a faint protest. 
 " Don't misunderstand me/' said Sir Hopkins. "It is merely 
 for precaution's sake, and binds you to nothing." 
 
 " Oh, sir," said Fermor, " you are so kind and so thoughtful 
 to me. Indeed I wish I had consulted you earlier. The whole 
 thing is such a complication. For instance, last night there was 
 a man who I believe was attached to her before before " 
 
 " Before you came," said Sir Hopkins smiling. "Of course, 
 every one in his turn. And you may, perhaps, be predecessor to 
 some one else." 
 
 "A rough, rude, heavy fellow Hanbury,' continued Fermor. 
 <( And he, it seems, chose to bring me to account as their cham- 
 pion. I could not put up with that, and of course I had to 
 repress him, very firmly, and with some strong language. I 
 showed him, I think, that I was not to be intimidated," 
 
 " Quite right," said Sir Hopkins, "quite so. I saw it. It 
 was very gross ; and, I tell you, a not uncommon manoeuvre. 
 And you met him with spirit and firmness ? " 
 
 "Yes, sir," said Fermor, 
 
 " Oh, then you'll have him with you this morning." 
 
 " How, sir ? " said Fermor. 
 
 " They'll send him to make it up, and all that sort of thing. 
 The move failed, you see. 1 shall be greatly surprised if they 
 don't. I merely throw that out. Now, my dear boy, letters, 
 letters! Under-Secretary waiting." 
 
 No wonder that Fermor, for long after, should think of his 
 relative's almost miraculous powers of foresight, and acuteness 
 of mental vision, with something like reverence even with 
 awe for when he reached home, he actually found, waiting in 
 his room, John Hanbury ! who, exactly as had been prophesied 
 for him, walked up to him with a sort of sad contrition, and 
 said, with a humility that affected the other : 
 
 "Fermor, I am sorry for what passed last night. I hope you 
 will not think of it. I can say no more." 
 
 For the moment he was almost affected. It pained him to 
 
Violet's Little Plots. 183 
 
 see this poor rough creature laying himself in the dust so 
 humbly, all through the strength of his unlucky attachment. 
 Through the films of natural vanity, distrusts, suspicions, through 
 which he saw most things, Fermor for a moment got a clear 
 view of this honest bit of self-sacrifice. He grasped Hanbury's 
 hand. " As you say," he said, "let us think no more of it. I 
 was rough enough myself, last night, but have been much put 
 out of late. You don't know how I am worried. We can't 
 always keep a watch over ourselves." 
 
 CHAPTER THE THIRTY-FIFTH. 
 
 VIOLET'S LITTLE PLOTS. 
 
 "pAULINE, when Violet had come down, was astonished at 
 the change. Violet's eyes were as glittering as before, 
 and she went about with a nervous vivacity, but the look of 
 misery and hopelessness was gone. 
 
 Very soon this restlessness had worked itself to a point. 
 "Dear Pauline," she said, as if asking a favour, "I am thinking 
 of going out for a walk up to the library (my head is so hot), 
 and taking Jane." 
 
 "To be sure, darling," said her sister, delighted that she was 
 taking interest in such a thing as a library. " The very thing; 
 and get yourself a nice amusing book." She assumed this 
 delicate sister that Violet would prefer going without her, for 
 they could not avoid coming to that one subject, and therefore 
 she did not propose herself as a companion. But this was really 
 the first step in Violet's little conspiracy. She had a curious 
 and irresistible instinct that she would meet with some one of 
 the characters with whom her little plot was to deal. And this 
 is often a very sure and faithful instinct. Jane, who always 
 associated every progress outside the house indistinctly with Mr, 
 Bates, attended her with alacrity. 
 
 The librarian gentlemanly and conversational took a great 
 interest in her, and had put by (the tenderest little attention 
 that was in his power) a new and choice story for her. Thus, 
 unhappily, was her business transacted only too speedily ; and 
 then Violet, indifferently skilled in all the devices of social life, 
 began to talk against time, and therefore a little wildly. 
 
 The librarian talked professionally, as it were, and was glad 
 
184 Never Forgotten. 
 
 of the opportunity. " There's a book," he said, " I am keeping 
 for Major Carter, ' The Virgins of Mayfair j ' they say it is by 
 Mrs. Mackenzie Tollemache. He is to call for it himself at 
 one o'clock. The major knows the world so well," added the 
 librarian with a smile. 
 
 But her instinct was not to fail her, foi presently she saw 
 John Hanbury, with a heavy gloom upon his face, smoking a 
 cigar dismally, lounging past with heavy steps. He saw her in 
 a second, and his face became a conflagration. Now, Violet 
 felt, was the moment to get out her heavy cloak and dark lantern, 
 if she ever was to be a conspirator. Hanbury had passed irreso- 
 lutely, and then, turning, saw Violet's soft face looking out at 
 him with encouragement and sympathy. He came back as if 
 he had been called. Violet welcomed him with a warmth 
 almost extravagant. Jane was looking on from the inner shop, 
 and looking on with approval. So Violet had made her first 
 step in the character of a conspirator. 
 
 Hanbury was confounded, and almost agitated at his reception. 
 Strange thoughts came tumbling tumultuously through his brain, 
 wild dreams for the future rose in his head. Could it be that 
 she had at last seen that other in his true colours ? 
 
 " Shall I take this?" said the library messenger, now going 
 out and pointing to "The Virgins of Mayfair," who were on 
 the ground bound together with strong twine * No, no," said 
 the librarian^ " I see the major crossing.'' 
 
 Instantly Violet had become almost coquettish e We never 
 see you now, Mr. Hanbury," she said, softly. "You used to 
 spare us an hour sometimes. But that was long ago." This 
 was not very skilful, but it was wonderful for Violet, and did 
 excellently for Hanbury, who could have prostrated himself 
 there on the well-worn boards of the library. 
 
 Major Carter was looking in at the window at the title-pages 
 of the new books. 
 
 " Indeed," said Hanbury, "you are most kind, only too good; 
 but I thought " 
 
 Now entered Major Carter, fresh from his window studies. 
 He was astonished and delighted to meet Miss Violet. Little 
 did he know the pleasure that was in store for him when he 
 crossed over. Could he help her to choose a book ? " You 
 
 nave kept that new thing for me, Mr. , all thanks, This 
 
 is," to Violet, "one of Mrs. Tollemache's, whom we all know, 
 so you can imagine why I was dying to see it." 
 
 In the presence of this skilful plaver Violet felt her histrionic 
 
Violet's Little Plots. 185 
 
 power a little chilled, but she thought of what was before her, 
 and set herself to work with wonderful purpose and resolution. 
 "No/' she said ; "Mr. Hanbury has always helped me. He 
 will choose me something, for I believe he knows my taste." 
 Poor Violet. This was spoken awkwardly enough, but it im- 
 posed on the two gentlemen. "I must go back now," added 
 she, getting even bolder in her little strategy. "I am going 
 to ask Mr. Hanbury to see me home. Jane has business 
 marketing, and what not." 
 
 Hanbury, scarcely knowing whether he was living or breath- 
 ing, glowed a delighted consent, and this wonderful Violet, 
 whom some fairy had metamorphosed into a perfect little intri- 
 gante, hurried into the back portion of the shop, and whispered 
 hex maid that she must walk after Major Carter and watch if 
 he went near Brown's-terrace. 
 
 Hanbury was to know strange fluctuations in his treatment, 
 for he had scarcely walked a hundred yards in this new tumult 
 of happiness, when Violet apparently began to weary of his 
 society. The worn lines began to show in her face, just as in- 
 visible writing ink comes out before a fire. " I won't take you 
 any farther," she said ; "indeed, no. It is very kind of you 
 to have come so far. Please leave me here. Do. I must go 
 by myself." 
 
 And thus Hanbury was lest gasping in the road, quite dazed, 
 and with his heart all filled with grief. Still there was con- 
 solation something to turn over and think of, m that incom- 
 prehensible change of manner. Later in the day the maid 
 came back, after being detained rather longer than her mission 
 required. She brought good news, however, for the major had 
 gone straight to Brown's-terrace, no doubt charged with the in- 
 telligence. Joyfully our Violet flew up-stairs, began to smooth 
 her hair, and work at personal decoration. The excitement of 
 both night and day had given a brilliancy to her face. Ribbons, 
 lace, dress, ornaments, all of the best, were got out, for it was 
 now certain that Fermor, having quaffed the elixir, would come 
 come in excitement and with all speed. Her sister saw the 
 change with delight and wonder, but forbore to ask a single 
 question even to put out a hint. She ran up to her mothei 
 with the good news, and to enjoin caution. 
 
 "Violet has a little mystery of her own, poor child. It is 
 all going well again, I can see. He has been writing, and, I 
 suspect, will be here in a moment. I knew it was some mistake. 
 Don't let us notice anything, mother dear, and I shall watch for 
 
1 86 Never Forgotten. 
 
 Louis and warn him against any of his blunt speeches/' Mrs. 
 Manuel, whose face was all arid and worn with old private 
 sorrows, where tears seemed to have sunk for themselves water- 
 sheds and gullies, smiled with some pleasure. Such news was 
 lighting up her darkness. 
 
 Violet, below, was setting the room in order over and over 
 again, to do honour to the king that was coming in state. Thus 
 busy, she talked, and with a spontaneousness quite unusual. 
 
 "I was thinking, Pauline," she said at last nervously, from 
 the window, and with her face to the garden, " of a little plan, 
 a little scheme of my own " an announcement received with 
 genuine delight by her sister. 
 
 " To be sure, dear," she said ; "let us hear it. Mamma will 
 be delighted." 
 
 "I want," said Violet, still at the window, "to to give a little 
 party. You know we have been here so long, and never " 
 
 Pauline answered with genuine wonder. "A party, dear! 
 Good gracious ! No why should we do that ?" 
 
 " O, we must !" said Violet, turning round and hastily crowd- 
 ing a number of reasons together. " It is expected. We ought 
 to have done it long ago. I am sure they all say so. O, Pauline, 
 indeed, indeed we must, we cannot be mean and taking every- 
 thing ; and and I should so like it." 
 
 "But this is so odd," said her sister, still wondering. "I 
 never thought you cared for it. And mamma, you know, she 
 could hardly bring herself to " 
 
 " O, she will," said Violet passionately. " Indeed, we must 
 do it," she added, piteously -, " it is the only thing I would ask. 
 Indeed, indeed you will help me ! " 
 
 Sisterly instinct had now at last divined that something more 
 was asked for than a mere party, and Pauline was presently as 
 eager as Violet. 
 
 But the shadows of evening began to gather, and she sat and 
 made a pretence of reading, then of settling again, then of 
 imaginary searches and inquisitions in her own room as imaginary, 
 until the day was fairly gone. Then she became exhausted. 
 The excitement could not carry her on. Light lines on her 
 face began to come out, and she turned to her fairy godmother 
 quite hopeless and helpless. 
 
 That counsellor \ya; not without ready comfort. She wrapped 
 her consolation up in the pithy saying about the time it required 
 to build the city of Rome. The ways of "gentlemen" were 
 almost as inscrutable as those of Providence. Certain experi- 
 
Violets Little Plots. 187 
 
 ences connected with Mr. Bates had almost established the same 
 truth. Leave it to time. To-morrow, miss, we should see. 
 Rome was not, &c. But, the king was not to come that day. 
 He had not drank of the elixir, which might be accepted as a 
 reason such as it was. Major Carter, posting away to see him, 
 had found him out. The king had gone in next door in all his 
 glory to console yet another maid. While Violet was keeping 
 her weary evening watch, with the greys and dusks descending 
 about her like clouds, her lord was sitting beside a Moabitish 
 woman, who had also, from the old instinct, decked herself for 
 his coming. Their duet was to this effect. 
 
 " Shall you ever come back here again," said he. " Scarcely, 
 I should say. Chance rarely brings friends again together at a 
 place of this sort, at the same time. No, you shall be at the 
 west when I shall be at the east. It is always the way." 
 
 " We are to go to the south of France," she said, speaking 
 this to the corner of her dress. "Papa likes quiet and retire- 
 ment. We shall become regular rustics, and live among the 
 vines and honest peasants. You, we are told, are to have a 
 different sort of life, out among the Eastern tribes, conquering 
 and ruling. Something splendid and exciting." 
 
 "No," said Fermor, with some embarrassment ; "nothing is 
 settled as to that as yet. Of course I might at any moment 
 if I choose." 
 
 " And you will choose," said she, timidly, but looking at him. 
 < I am sure of it ; I told papa so this morning." 
 
 Fermor smiled. There was a refreshing naturalness about 
 this girl that was always piquant. A new view at every turn of 
 the road. "That would suit my nature, I suppose," he said, 
 inquiringly, " ruling and conquering ? " 
 
 She dropped her eyes again. Then, after a moment, looked 
 at him. "I I think so," she said. 
 
 " Quite right," he said, approvingly. (He had always a sort 
 of paternal manner to her.) "Well answered! I should like 
 being captain over slaves, in opening their brute intellects. I 
 would relish the barbarous splendour of that country. No better 
 background for anything like mind or intellect." 
 
 " You should go," she said, eagerly. "We should so like to 
 hear of you." 
 
 " But what could you hear of me ? " he said. "The ordinary 
 routine account despatches minutes." 
 
 " No, no," she said ; "something more. I know you would 
 be famous." / 
 
j88 Never Forgotten. 
 
 " At least," he said, "you are anxious to get me out of the 
 country. That is the fairest construction I can put on what you 
 say." 
 
 "No, indeed," she said; "you misjudge me. If you must 
 go, surely the south of France is as far removed from India at 
 least to all intents and purposes as England. You will never 
 come that way." 
 
 (This " nature " is really charming, he thought, because she 
 makes no pretence to anything else.) 
 
 "We never know how things may turn out, ' he said. *'I 
 could no more tell where I shall be in three months' time than 
 I could the age of the age of the moon. It may be England, 
 India perhaps the south of Frauds," he added, smiling '' It 
 is all on the cards." 
 
 She smiled too. " You don't mean that?" she said. 
 
 " I can mean nothing," he said, importing one of his myste- 
 rious aphorisms, " where I know nothing. The vulgar gossips 
 dispose of me just as they please. 1 assure you they know 
 nothing. I confess you have read me right in one point. I do 
 feel a call towards India. It is the country for me -, and but for 
 
 the absurd forms and formulas of our diplomatic service No 
 
 matter. I have not at all dismissed the notion, I assure you. 
 People someway seem to expect me to go there. I have really 
 very moderate abilities, which I am sure they overrate. I dare 
 say, in the end, I shall have to go. But remember the south 
 of France is on the road to India." 
 
 " O, how charming it would be," said she, in one of her uncon- 
 ventional little bursts of delight. "Some morning, perhaps, we 
 should hear of a strange gentleman at the gate, and we should 
 be wondering, and then it would turn out to be you. Though, 
 indeed, I should know for certain that it was you as soon as I 
 heard there was a stranger." 
 
 "And do you mean to say,'* said Fermor, "that a morning 
 call from a mere conventional being like myself finding you, 
 too, among all the attractions of the sweet south would give 
 you any pleasure ? because, if so " 
 
 " Indeed it would," she answered readily, and without hesita- 
 tion. 
 
 Fermor had expected, in the course of nature, a little confu- 
 sion and dropping of the eyes j still it was a bit of nature, and 
 she was really delightful for that. It was like real fresh eau-de- 
 Cologne after all manner of heavy perfumes. She was so 
 simple and so natural, he could have gone on " playing" on her 
 
Violet's Little Plots. 189 
 
 for an hour more, with fresh entertainment, only he was 
 obliged to go. 
 
 " Good-by ! good-by !" he said, rising. "As I say, nothing 
 is settled, and you must be prepared for that morning call in the 
 south. For I suspect I shall have to go and rule over the Easterns 
 after all. It is better than decay in a country like this. There 
 is something grand, as you say, in being a satrap. I feel a call 
 to it and BO," added Fermor, gliding into a tender cadence, 
 " good-by, dear Miss Carlay. We have had some pleasant 
 hours together ; at least / have." 
 
 The girl said nothing. Fermor held her hand a moment, let 
 it go suddenly, and then left the room. Without any " pro- 
 nounced" sensation in this farewell, there was still a secret hint 
 as of something dramatic and tauching. Fermor's " exquisite 
 steering '' (his expression to himself) had given this tone to the 
 situation. At the door he came full on Mr. Carlay. 
 
 "We are going away," said the latter, "as no doubt you 
 have been told. I know very few, and scarcely one that I care 
 for here; so it is not a great sacrifice for me. She would like to 
 remain." 
 
 " Then why go ? " said Fermor. 
 
 " This air of the south has been orderoci for her. The winter 
 is drawing on. And what is to become of you ? I am told 
 you are to go to India full of honours." 
 
 "Well, so they say," said Fermor, greatly gratified with this 
 universal nomination of himself to office. 
 
 " Well, I am sure you will succeed. Write to us to me. 
 You have done great good in this house ; you have really 
 cheered her up. It was kind of you to come in and talk to her. 
 A grim stiff fellow like me is no companion for a girl." 
 
 " Don't mention it, sir," said Fermor, in high good humour. 
 " It was a pleasure to myself. It is rarely one finds so cultivated 
 a mind.'' 
 
 " If," said the other " if : t should ever come to pass and 
 we hear how short a way money goes in India if and I can 
 assure you I don't want to offend ; but I am a rude, rough 
 
 fellow " 
 
 " I understand," said Fermor, " perfectly. And to show that 
 I take it as it is meant, I do promise to avail myself of your good- 
 ness. I do appreciate such kind thoughts, rely upon it. Per- 
 haps one of these days I may look in upon YOU in France who 
 knows? " 
 
 This concluded his farewell with father and daughter. The 
 
190 Never Forgotten, 
 
 whole scene quite filled his mind. The Manuel family faded out 
 and became small figures in the distance. At all events, there 
 was nothing pressing. 
 
 The Eastport season was indeed drawing to a close. Sharp 
 blasts were coming from the sea, charged with daggers and 
 razors. The polite world was flitting away. Every day, at the 
 newly-opened railway station, porters had busy work of it, label- . 
 ling dark and heavy boxes for "London." And in first-floor 
 windows was seen a crowd of appeals, growing daily more fre- 
 quent, crying out piteously, "To Let/' "To Let." Once the 
 rush had set in, every one was eager to be gone; and the air 
 was filled with declarations, "We are going on Monday," "We 
 are going on Tuesday," &c., &c. The haste and hurry was 
 almost indecent. It was as though some family with whom they 
 had been intimate had been suddenly discovered to be unsuitable 
 to know, and was to be " dropped " with all speed. Next year, 
 when the season came on, the people would be bowing and 
 greeting Eastport again with the pleasant effrontery of worldlings. 
 Thus, in a day or two, had Sir Hopkins Pocock, C.B., passed 
 away, his despatch-box being put conspicuously under the seat 
 by two porters. They thought it must contain watches or 
 jewels. Thus, also, in a week or two, were Lady Laura Fermor 
 and her daughters busy up-stairs putting up their camp-kettles 
 and knapsacks, and once more getting ready for the road. 
 
 The Eastport sea-breezes, and the comparative inactivity of 
 this campaign, had not been without profit for the veteran 
 commander. If it had been otherwise, it would have made 
 little difference, as however worn and footsore, she would 
 have marched out of the place with the same spirit. Yet, 
 though no serious operations had been undertaken, some suc- 
 cesses of a substantial order had crowned their arms. It did, 
 indeed, seem likely that what might be called a fort Fort. 
 Piper was about to fall. That stronghold, it will be remem- 
 bered, was a sort of child, but of good expectations, and well 
 worthy sitting down before and investing in all form. 
 
 The ripe charms of Alicia Mary had affected him. " Good 
 God!" said Fermor, with strong disgust, as he met the child 
 day after day in his mother's apartments. "You don't mean to 
 say you are thinking of that infant ! I declare it would be a sin 
 a crime ! I could not stand by and look on. His friends 
 ought to interfere. I am ashamed of you, Alicia. '' 
 
 For once the veteran sergeant lost command of her temper. 
 This was tampering with the ranks. Her voice trembled. "None 
 
Violet's Little Plots. 191 
 
 of this/' she said, walking up to him with a look he did not soon 
 forget ; " it is easy for you to make remarks. You must not 
 interfere with the girls. No one asks you to give yourself 
 trouble, nor, indeed, have you put yourself out in any way. We 
 have had work enough of it, without help from any one, and I 
 can't suffer any interference nou\ You understand ; you have 
 done for yourself in the way that suits you best, and no one has 
 said a word to you. It is onty" fair that we should have our 
 way. There!" 
 
 Fermor withdrew in some disorder. The Boy found a 
 mysterious attraction in Alicia Mary, who was kind and 
 encouraging after an almost maternal manner. He positively 
 adored her. There were guardians in the way, it is true pro- 
 videntially no Chancery, which had been fatal. And it was to 
 sit down before these guardians that Lady Laura was now pre- 
 paring to march. A ridiculous disparity, said the malicious. 
 But how disparity, when he was next brother to Sir Thomas? 
 How disparity, when the Sir Thomas alluded to had not, and 
 ought not to have (on reliable guarantees), any children ? Away 
 with these puerile objections. 
 
 Alas for poor Violet while these weary shiftings were going 
 on! She kept her mournful watches 5 only the inspiration of 
 her maid sustained her. Fermor, in a day or so, came back to 
 her. He diffused joy over the mansion ; but he was moody, and 
 " short," lowering symptoms, which Violet welcomed, after the 
 first shock, with pleasure. For the elixir was working. Pauline 
 did not come down to him ; her presence, she thought, would 
 only cloud the air more. Very soon his grievances came to the 
 surface. He had observed, he said, that "your friend, Mr. 
 Hanbury," had come back. This was more of the elixir. What 
 did that mean, pray? Violet, a little flurried, called up her 
 presence of mind. She did not know, she said. She supposed 
 he had business, or some such reason. With a voice that 
 trembled a little, she added, that he was "very good, O, so 
 good," and that the people seemed to like him so. 
 
 " O, that is it," said Fermor, getting up, and walking over to 
 the window 5 " I see ! " Though a little terrified, Violet was 
 pleased, for here were signs of the elixir. Fermor turned round 
 smiling with grim scorn. "I see!" he repeated. He was 
 thinking how this poor child was unconsciously showing " the 
 little game" of the family. 
 
 The little faint lines in her face, and her secret suspense, 
 struck him with a little pity. "That was all a mistake, you 
 
ip* Never Forgotten. 
 
 know, the other night. I came back as fast as I really could, 
 there was such a crowd ; and when I got to the other end, you 
 were gone." 
 
 This was a noble amende for him, the view that Violet in her 
 heart of hearts had clung to all along. He was a hero again. 
 Away went the little plot. 
 
 "Oh, how good of you/' she said, in a tumult of foolish 
 gratitude. "I knew that was the reason. I said so, all 
 along." 
 
 " Ah ! yes," said he; "I suppose there were plenty of persons 
 to take the worse view." 
 
 Now was there an opportunity. She recovered herself. 
 
 " O, by the way," she said, with a sort of nervous coquetry, 
 " I want you to do something for me. I have a plan, a great 
 little scheme." 
 
 " A great little scheme ? " said Fermor, smiling dryly at this 
 description. " Well 1 " 
 
 "It is all my own plan entirely. I am going to give a little 
 party." 
 
 Fermor started. " A party ! Give a party ! In the name of 
 Providence, why should you do that? " 
 
 "Oh, it's all my own idea," said Violet. "I should so 
 like it." 
 
 "Your own idea! It's simply absurd," said Fermor ; "a 
 party when everybody's out of the place $ and in this little 
 room " 
 
 " But it's to be a little party," said Violet, coming up to him, 
 and now rilled with misgivings as to the policy of her proposal. 
 " Only a few, I assure you." 
 
 "That of course you can arrange as you like," he said; "I 
 only give my opinion. If you take my advice, you would not 
 think of such a thing, It will only end in failure." 
 
 " O, if you please," said she, imploringly, "don't go against 
 it. My heart is so set on this little scheme." 
 
 " Good gracious!" said he, "am I preventing i? Do just 
 as you like. I only give my advice." 
 
 " But you will come ? If you were to know how I have set 
 my heart on it." 
 
 " On my coming ? " said Fermor, smiling in spite of himself 
 "Well, I suppose the great little scheme must go on." 
 
 He was provoked afterwards that he had given way to this 
 levity, or good humour. It took away from his sense of injury. 
 But he left happiness behind. The maid, who was fairy god' 
 
Violet's Little Plots 193 
 
 mother, found herself embraced, and overpowered with a burst 
 of confidence, everything was going on o prosperously. 
 
 A week more, and more fashionable Israelites had gone out 
 of the place. There were no traces even of the spot where the 
 Laura Fermor tents had been pitched a few days back. The 
 fashionable London Fremdenblatt had announced them at their 
 hotel, in Dover-street. Sir Hopkins, said the same register, was 
 staying at Wycherley's, St. James's-square, genteel and costly 
 chambers, well known to colonists. Every one was arriving 
 somewhere in Town ; and Eastport, abandoned and forsworn, 
 began to have very much the look of the field where a gay 
 circus has flourished temporarily, where the horses had galloped 
 round, and the scarlet and tinsel fluttered, and the crowd 
 shouted, but where now there was only the mark of a worn 
 sawdust ring. 
 
 Fermor fumed against this abandonment Things, as regards 
 his personal affairs, had settled into a dead level. But he would 
 have preferred something that he might work against. He went 
 to see the Manuels fitfully, and bestowed gloom and mystery on 
 them. The brother seldom appeared to him, and when he did, 
 he seemed to be held, as it were, in a leash. But Violet, still 
 anxious, and still fluttering, said to all their gentle remonstrances, 
 " Leave it to me. Do, do now. We shall settle it all the night 
 of the little party.'' This was indeed her plank. 
 
 The good woman in the wood, with a good deal of the pride 
 which successful advice brings, had forecasted prodigious issues 
 from this night. It was understood that it was to bring forth a 
 new and perfect understanding, a resolution of all difficulties, 
 even the naming of a near and certain day for the nuptials, and 
 universal happiness and delight. "Leave it all to me! 1 
 know," said Violet, with a little air of mystery. And she had 
 now come to brood anxiously over this eventful night, as though 
 it were finally to determine her fate, as, indeed, it was destined 
 to do. 
 
 Indeed, Fermor's strange mood would be hard to describe. 
 He had an air of being " badly treated " of being unsettled in 
 his mind of one that would neither go nor stay, yet he was 
 "touchy," nervous, and would do nothing. He was waiting 
 another event. Sir Hopkins had said he would write to him 
 from London as soon as everything was settled, and " he saw 
 his way finally." Someway Fermor had begun to have a rest- 
 less feeling that this "seeing his way" would concern him 
 
 o 
 
ip4 Never Forgotten. 
 
 eventually. Yet the letter did not come. His family had not 
 written either. " I suppose they think I may be treated any 
 way and any how now" he said, bitterly. " I am a sort of cast- 
 off, it would seem, to be dead and buried at once. They as- 
 sume they have got rid of me now for good; and now that no 
 profit may be made of me. Take care. I may disagreeably 
 surprise them yet." 
 
 But there was yet another letter expected which did not come. 
 Major Carter had said to him, " I have written, as you wished 
 it, to old Foley at Dunkirk. He is the most wonderful ( gather- 
 ups ' of old stories in nature. Quartered in Spain, as I told you. 
 He knows everything about everybody, and, depend upon it, 
 we shall have a very full and curious letter. Now, my dear 
 boy, don't say a word. I take this all on myself. I have no 
 right to say anything of my own suspicions. I don't quite see 
 my way as yet." 
 
 Thus it came to a certain Monday, for which evening Miss 
 Manuel had asked a few friends to tea and music. 
 
 CHAPTER THE THIRTY-SIXTH. 
 
 FAUST AND MEPHISTOPHELES. 
 
 weary day of the Manuel little party and Violet had 
 taken all its responsibilities on herself seemed almost to 
 trail by. Fermor was still fretting against what he thought 
 the " unmeaningness " of the whole affair. Why, however, 
 should they mind him ? It was only to be expected that they 
 would take then own course. No letters by post that morning. 
 He had a good mind not to go at all, the thing was so absurd ; 
 but then if he got unwell and stayed away, he would be talked 
 of, and wondered about, and looked at, which would be yet 
 more absurd. Above all, there would be a scene tears and 
 injured looks, and that kind of pressure. 
 
 Hanbury had gone away for a few days, but had come back 
 express the night before. His passage some hundred and 
 twenty pounds' worth had been taken and paid for out, but 
 the splendid fast steamer had sailed out of Southampton a week 
 ago. Groaning chests, ranked under the title of " heavy lug- 
 gage," had been put oft board a sailing ship, and the sailing 
 ship had weighed anchor and dropped down the Thames, so 
 
Faust and Mephistopheles. 195 
 
 that was lost as well as the passage money. He "sold off" 
 many things, furniture, dogs, horses among others, the famous 
 brute that had won the fatal race hurriedly, and at a sacrifice. 
 So here was further loss. Yet he did not care. He was 
 beginning actually to live again, to breathe, to stretch his arms. 
 He was seen to walk fast and excitedly, not to slouch along. 
 His hopelessness was being mixed up with uncertainty which 
 was an improvement 5 just as a condemned prisoner is encouraged 
 when he knows that powerful exertions are being made for a 
 reprieve. 
 
 Major Carter, who had got letters that morning, met him in 
 the little street. Hanbury was full of importance. The major 
 turned back with him. 
 
 "A great day for Eastport," said the major, cheerily. "We 
 are all so interested in our sweet friend's little adventure. Quod 
 fausttjm, &c., you know the quotation " (which Hanbury did 
 not). "They are charming girls what I call a sweetness 
 about them." 
 
 Hanbury turned on him eyes that almost swam. "Indeed 
 they are," he said j and out of gratitude he could not but add : 
 "and I know, I am sure, they like you." 
 
 " I dare say Miss Violet does/' said the other "I don't think 
 Miss Pauline quite so much. She, Miss Violet, is so soft and 
 winning ; like the flower she is called after, so retiring and deli- 
 cate. Do you know, my dear Hanbury, I often get uneasy 
 when I think of the rough east winds you understand me?" 
 Hanbury sighed heavily. "And that, I will confess to you," 
 added the major, lightly touching the arm of his friend, " is the 
 only thing that gives me a little uneasiness on her score I 
 mean, our friend Fermor, who, though he has a fine natural 
 disposition, and is full of the best points, is scarcely suited you 
 understand. And now, do you know, it has occurred to me 
 lately, that some such idea has lately come upon her gentle 
 mind; and it has been remarked," added the major, with 
 mystery, " by others, too." 
 
 Hanbury became irresolute. " Fermor," he said, "is indeed 
 scarcely suited. I doubt if he understands her." 
 
 " He is really a fine character," said the major, warmly, "and 
 is my friend. But I tell you, candidly, I never liked this match. 
 He is for the world. She is for quiet domestic happiness. Poor 
 sweet child ! I can see she is even now turning back to old 
 days. Another sort of nature would have suited her better. It 
 is too late now to go back." 
 
T$6 Never Forgotten 
 
 " Yes, aid H anbury, gloomily. 
 
 v But," said the major, " I am very glad of this opening, fo/ 
 I have wished to speak to you, and you are not a man to mis- 
 understand frankness. It will not do it will not answer.' 1 
 
 " How !" said Hanbury, colouring. 
 
 " I say, I wish it could be undone, but it can't. No, it lies 
 on you. You must discourage it as much as you can. She is 
 young and impulsive, and cannot hide her feelings. But you 
 must be generous, and make the sacrifice." 
 
 Clumsily disguised pleasure flashed in Hanbury's eyes. He 
 could hardly contain himself. "You know," said he, confi- 
 dentially, " I owe nothing to Fermor. He used me unfairly. 
 It is an open game between us. Besides," he added, with pride, 
 " if I could only save her " 
 
 < Hush!" said the major, this is all in confidence. I merely 
 threw out the hint. Fermor would be in a fury if he knew it. 
 I must go. Think no more of it, I beg. We shall meet at 
 the little festival. Aurevoir!'' 
 
 Hanbury went his way with all his spirits, soul, heart, every- 
 thing bounding and springing within him. He hurried luinul- 
 tuously to the Manuels. He found them in confusion. Violet 
 and her confidential maid were out. She was almost, Hanbury 
 found out, in a sort of light fever ; for the crisis was now draw- 
 ing on. Her sister had noted even a little wildness. She was 
 wrought up to the highest pitch, for she had given out, as it 
 were by proclamation, that this night was to end the whole to 
 bring everything to a splendid issue. By this charm, she had 
 with difficulty laid that sleeping lion, her brother. 
 
 Hanbury, roaming about the little town, soon lighted on her. 
 He came up to her shyly, yet exuberantly. She welcomed him 
 according to her new tactics ; led him about as her escort to 
 many shops, and chattered all the while all the while, too, 
 looking eagerly round to the right and left for spectators. These 
 she soon found. For Young Brett passed by, and looked after 
 them, wondering j and Major Carter passed by, also wondering; 
 before whom Hanbury drew himself up with pride. But Fer- 
 mor, who was most desired, did not see that little progress. 
 
 He had paced his room a great deal that night. He was 
 now feeling the monotony of desertion. He had no excitement 
 to keep him up. "To be wasting in this place," he thought; 
 " and a life like mine, by my own stupid folly, to be flung away/' 
 Rarely, indeed, in his life, had Fermor made so honest a con- 
 f"?ssion of incapacity. 
 
Faust and Mephistopheles. 197 
 
 It was coming to four o'clock, and darkening gradually. Post 
 came about five. He had bade his man, Mr. Bates, to be sure 
 to go down before the time, and fetch his letters. " Of course 
 there will be no letters," he said, "because I want them. I 
 suppose they think, now, I am not worth writing to." 
 
 By-and-by dropped in Young Brett, who on the mention of 
 Violet, or her " little party," told eagerly how he had just met her 
 " with that fellow Hanbury." He remarked that that gentle- 
 man was plucking up wonderfully. He wondered what h? 
 (Hanbury) " was at, hanging about " in this way. 
 
 "/ know," said Fermor, starting up and beginning to pace 
 the room. " I understand it. It's no matter now, but it will 
 all come right in time." 
 
 Some little friendliness on Young Brett's part being repelled 
 rather roughly, that youth went away scared. " We shall meet 
 to-night," lie said, as a farewell. 
 
 "Well!" said the other, "I suppose we shall. We meet 
 now, and may meet to-morrow. There is no need of telling each 
 other such good news ?*' 
 
 "No ! no ! of course," said poor Brett, colouring. 
 
 Later came Major Carter. 
 
 " I met your friend Hanbury in great spirits." 
 
 " I suppose," said Fermor, " in Miss Violet's company. What 
 is the meaning of this ? " he added, violently. " Do they want 
 to set me up for the whole town to laugh at ? People coming 
 in here every minute telling me what they see." All Fermor's 
 injuries came rushing on him. " I'm not to be played on in 
 this fashion. To be talked of by the low tea-table gossips of a 
 low place like this. What, are they playing these petty tricks 
 on me ? I tell you what, if I chose, I could give them a lesson." 
 
 "No, no," said the major 5 "I acquit her she is too much 
 of a child, too quiet and harmless." 
 
 "Who mentioned her, pray?" said Fermor, becoming calm. 
 " Did I ? A child ? She's not a child because I know what 
 I am doing. Too much of a child ! There's a nice alliance for 
 a man that might rise in the world. A man that at this moment 
 might be high in India, and talked of. I declare, Carter, I 
 could sit and cry when I think of all I have lost and been 
 obliged to give up, and for such a set. You know what I am, 
 and what is in me. Isn't it a cruel thing ? And Sir Hopkins 
 knows yet I must say has behaved well, but what could he 
 do ? ( A child,' and ' perfectly harmless,' in India ! And after 
 ail this, to be playing their wretched little games upon me," 
 
jp8 Never Forgotten 
 
 This was a tremendous burst for Fermor. 
 
 " I must say," said the major, calmly, "their proceedings are 
 quite beyond me- It is a game, I tell you candidly, and I have 
 reason to know it." 
 
 "You have?" said Fermor, eagerly 5 "show it to me. 
 Prove it," 
 
 The major shook his head. "I can only say/' he said, " that 
 I met that very Mr. Hanbury, and had a little talk with him." 
 
 (f He was in spirits," said Fermor. 
 
 " How did you know that ? " said the major, astonished. " So 
 he was. He threw out some hints. You know he is rather of 
 an open nature. By the way, he seemed to hint at a sort of 
 justification of himself, as he said you had used him very ill." 
 
 " I suppose so," said Fermor. " What is he aggrieved about ? 
 Good gracious ! Who forces her, or who is forcing ? If they 
 want him, let them take him, in God's name. Let her say so 
 at once, and let them have done with these wretched tricks* I'm 
 sick of them." 
 
 This was the irritation of, say, a month back, all burst forth 
 at one moment. The major paused. " I am glad you have 
 spoken to me so frankly," said he.. "I should advise some 
 decided course. A clear, final, and positive explanation. They 
 seem to rest a good deal on to-night. I shall come here again, 
 later, if you will allow me." 
 
 The major was gone, the darkness was coming on yet stronger. 
 It was past five o'clock, and here now was his man, Bates, en- 
 tering with the lamp, and the post. Absolutely a whole mail 
 of letters for Captain Fermor. "And here, sir," added Bates, 
 " is a letter as was just left by Miss Manuel's maid." The 
 demeanour of Miss Manuel's maid, had she to make such an 
 announcement with a reference to Mr. Bates, would have been 
 conscious and awkward. But Mr. Bates was a soldier and 
 unmoved. One from Lady Laura. One from his agent. 
 Several from tailors, perfumers, besides circulars, and a large 
 envelope directed in Sir Hopkins' s well-known official hand. 
 Nervously, though he expected nothing from it, Fermor drew 
 his chair in and began to read. It was very closely written, and 
 with a heart which beat quicker and quicker with every line, he 
 read it through. Towards the end, he rose and took a short 
 hurried march backward and forward, then read on ; when he 
 had finished, there was a strange look in his eyes. 
 
 He rang the bell. " Go for Major Carter at once," he said 
 to Mr. Bates < "do not lose a moment/ 1 
 
Faust and Mephistopheles. ipp 
 
 He did not open Lady Laura's epistle, though it contained 
 news that young Piper had, the night before, offered himself to 
 Alice Mary, at the hotel j nor the mixed crowd of tailors' and 
 other tradesmen's. He read his relative's letter over again. 
 
 The major came. He had had a letter, too, from the same 
 writer, but he did not mention it. Another time he would 
 have been all amazement, delight, and surprise. Now he took 
 the letter gravely which Fermor put into his hand. 
 
 "Read it out," said Fermor. 
 
 He dropped into a chair, and the major, leaning his face over 
 the lamp, read out the letter : 
 
 " Sunday Evening. 
 
 "My DEAR CHARLES, I am starting surrounded by boxes 
 and packages, but must find a moment to write to you on a very 
 important matter. 
 
 " I told you I did not see my way. I should have been 
 obliged to go without seeing it. I have just heard of the death 
 of old Colin Mackenzie, who has been treasurer of government 
 for the last forty years. The place is in my gift, and must be 
 worth at the very least a thousand a year. As my first lit of 
 patronage, I offer it to you. 
 
 " You must think of this seriously, and decide at once. The 
 little office I spoke of before was not, I admit, sufficient to 
 tempt a man of parts to change his life, but this is a different 
 question. The position is very delicate, considering the way you 
 are situated. You will do me the justice to say that I never, 
 by persuasion or advice, have attempted to interfere with your 
 plans of life ; but, on this occasion, I must speak plainly. -This 
 is really a great opening ; it may lead to all sorts of things 3 and, 
 if I were in your place, I would not hesitate a second; but it is 
 for you to decide. 
 
 " As for that family for whom you seem to have a sort of 
 infatuation, you know my opinion. If I had time, I could tell 
 you some little matters I have picked up heie. As for the 
 child herself, I would pity her, if I did not think she was a little 
 too clever. My dear boy, these things occur every day. Young 
 St. Rouser Lord Nimmo's eldest behaved badly, as it is 
 called, to Vansittart's daughter, and there were tears and broken 
 heartsj but in six months she had accepted old Bob Major of 
 the Blues. She had been protecting herself all the while. You 
 see how these things are done. But I think I have a right to 
 make terms. I have other things in view for you. Prizes, my 
 boy. I do for you ; you should do for me. 
 
2oo Never Forgotten. 
 
 " Or again, \vhy be in a hurry ? If you cannot live without 
 this soft innocent, why not put it off a year or so, until you look 
 about you ? The thing is common enough. She can do, I 
 suppose, as other young ladies have done before, and her people 
 have no right to be taking extra airs on themselves. My dear 
 Charles, you are a man of sense, and I have no right to tell you 
 to do this, or do that ; but you must decide at once, as the post 
 is for some one else, and the appointment must be made before 
 1 go out. I shall wait one day twelve hours at Paris, for 
 your answer by telegraph. Direct to the Hotel Mirabeau. 
 
 " Yours truly, 
 
 " HOPKINS POCOCK. 
 
 " P.S. The packet leaves Marseilles on Friday at noon. If 
 you accept, you would have almost time to sail with me. 
 Tuesday, London (arrange with War-office sell your commis- 
 sion. You will find a note at my rooms for Sir Charles, one of 
 my oldest friends) j Wednesday, Paris; Thursday, Marseilles. 
 You will find me at the Empereur. I hare just met old Lord 
 Welbeck on the stairs. 11 
 
 Major Carter lifted his face from the lamp. There was a 
 pause for a moment j then he said, " A kind, sensible letter. 
 A judicious letter." 
 
 "But," said Fermor, in a flutter, "assuming all that, what 
 am I to do ?" 
 
 " I should say you had no choice. It is all decided for you 
 here," said the major, tapping the letter. "You have no right 
 to hesitate. Good gracious, Fermor!" he continued, suddenly 
 becoming warm, " what are you about ? Are you going to let 
 this chivalrous sort of indulgence for a set of people forgive 
 me who have treated you infamously yes, infamously wreck 
 your whole life ? I can't stand by and see it ; I cannot. Your 
 friends must interfere, even at the risk of offending you." 
 
 " Yes, yes," said Fermor, hastily, "you are right. They have 
 no title to expect anything from me." 
 
 "Good heavens, what a prospect !" said the major, reflectively. 
 "What I always prophesied." 
 
 "Yes," said Fermor, absently, "they deserve nothing from 
 me nothing. The only thing is that poor, poor girl." 
 
 " Poor girl!" said Carter, with a meaning look tha* conveyed 
 volumes ; "but no matter. How good that of Sir Hopkins 
 about "protecting themselves!' Besides, how does he put it ? 
 
Violet's Party. 201 
 
 Could anything be more delicate, considerate? Is there any 
 hurry ?" 
 
 " To be sure. No certainly/* said Fermor, hastily. 
 
 "I tell you what," said Carter, slowly, "it strikes me you 
 should go without delay. This very night. The express passes 
 through at midnight." 
 
 Fermor started a little guiltily. Perhaps some such notion 
 had been in his thoughts. 
 
 " Yes," said the other, quickly, " the best, the kindest, the 
 most charitable course. I know what your own generous in- 
 stinct would suggest. But it is time that your friends, if they 
 have any influence, should interfere, and act for you." 
 
 " But that poor Violet," said Fermor, moving about rest- 
 lessly. 
 
 " It is of her we are thinking, are we not ? " said the major. 
 "Is it not best to spare her the agitation, the fuss, and all the 
 rest of it ? It is the best opportunity you could have. It is 
 like a providence. They have their little party (a woman's 
 mind is eaiily filled), and their music, and their gaieties our 
 friend er Mr. Hanbury." 
 
 " Ah, truly ! " said Fermor j "quite right. I did not think of 
 that. I really begin to think it would be all for the best." 
 
 " Now that is sensible, and manly, and, I must say, most 
 considerate. If you would care for it, we could go together. 
 I have business that will take me to Town later, so it is only 
 anticipating." 
 
 " O, thanks, thanks," said Fermor j "I should so like it." 
 He had been rather shrinking from the gloomy journey by 
 himself. 
 
 " Is it settled then ? Yes ? Very well, I shall be back in an 
 hour/ 1 said Major Carter. 
 
 CHAPTER THE THIRTY-SEVENTH. 
 
 VIOLET'S PARTY. 
 
 Tj^ERMOR, left to himself, was in a whirl of excitement. His 
 heart actually beat as he thought of the daring move he 
 was about to make. Still he shrank from it -, it seemed un- 
 gcntlemanly. Above all, he thought of Violet's anxious face, 
 appealing piteously. The crust of the fashionable world had 
 
2oa Never Forgotten. 
 
 not yet so wholly covered up his heart. For a moment he 
 
 thought there was "no hurry," and that the most generous 
 course was the best. But as soon as he had taken tMs view, he 
 began what is not uncommon with uncertain minds to see 
 the merits of the opposite course. It was quixotic - } they were 
 provident adventurers looking after their interests, and, above 
 all, there was that soft Violet skilfully furnishing herself with a 
 useful reserve in case of his failure. And thus he swung round 
 indignantly to the other view. Then, through the clouds, broke 
 out the soft, .appealing face of Violet, and her " little ways ; " 
 but before he had done with that vision the major returned. 
 He found Fermor sitting in the chair by the lamp, just as he 
 had left him. The major had on his travelling-cap and cloak. 
 
 " All packed ? " he said. " Not much time half-past eight." 
 
 "I don't know what to do," said Fermor, a little excitedly. 
 " It does seem so heartless, does it not ? Poor, poor girl ! When 
 they tell her in the morning ! " 
 
 "That feeling is most creditable," said the major, calmly. 
 "I quite sympathise with it. But I recollect what Sir Hopkins 
 says, and what occurred to me too. You only put off- dorit 
 break off. My dear Captain Fermor, take my word for it, they 
 are well used to this sort of thing that clever sister and that 
 unlicked brother." 
 
 "By the way," said Fermor, starting, "there was a letter 
 came from him; what became of it?" 
 
 He looked for it, and opened it. The major saw Fermor' s 
 brow contracting as he read ; but did not know, though he 
 might guess, that it was to the old tune, of which that brother 
 was so fond. It hoped imperiously that Fermor would consider 
 the matter seriously, and now make up his mind ; that these 
 delays were not respectful to his sister, and to them all ; that her 
 health was suffering ; and that, once for all, he required a. definite 
 settlement of the question that night. The whole key was im- 
 perious, and, to Fermor's mind, insolent. It was, alas ! fatally 
 mal a propos. 
 
 He tossed down the missive, and said, " That settles it I My 
 mind is made up. I shall go at once." 
 
 At the very moment that Fermor was flinging down the letter, 
 Violet was in her room dressing for the little festival. Her 
 sister and the faithful maid were assisting. The faithful maid was 
 on her knees, busy with the skirt. Both these assistants seemed 
 to know that much depended on the work of this night. The maid 
 
Violets Party. 203 
 
 having, indeed, foretold certain success, was calm and confident 
 Violet was before the glass, flushed and excited. She had not 
 a particle of vanity, but she dressed herself to-night as though 
 she had been another being say a sister. She was nervously 
 vivacious, and talked with a little rambling. She came down at 
 last, and, as she entered their little drawing-room, felt herself all 
 panting ; for she knew she was now embarked fairly in the 
 scheme she had undertaken, and that the time was at hand. 
 
 "You look charming," her sister said, going up to her; " so 
 bright and sparkling, and in such spirits ! " The sister had said 
 the same to the maid, and the maid had agreed with the sister. 
 
 " Do you think he will like me ? " said Violet, in a little 
 rapture. " Oh, you shall see to-night how he will behave that 
 is, if I have any power with him." And her face fell a little 
 wearily, for her head was confused, and her brain overcharged 
 with little speeches and little tactics, which she had been plan- 
 ning all day. 
 
 " He cannot resist you, dearest/' said her sister, kissing her 
 almost passionately. " He never can." 
 
 The little rooms had been laid out artistically with flowers 
 and modest decorations. There was a foreign air and a foreign 
 touch over all. There were only a few people to come after all. 
 The fact was, as Fermor had put it, they knew but few, and 
 nearly all those few had left Eastport. After many weary 
 searches and beating up of districts, the entertainment was to 
 resolve itself into such homely elements as the representative 
 clergyman, the representative doctor, the representative solicitor, 
 the representative stray young man and old maiden ladies of the 
 place shrubs never transplanted, and to whom a little feast of 
 this sort was as water in sultry weather. It was now ten 
 o'clock, and they, with Mr. Hanbury, came with provincial 
 punctuality. 
 
 She was very nervous, and thought how she would begin, or 
 what was the first of those painfully-planned operations. Her 
 little head was miserably confused. But she had not time to 
 think. For here was the representative clergyman, with bound- 
 less wife and daughters; and after him the doctor; and, follow- 
 ing, the choir of maiden ladies and debateable youths scarcely 
 boys, nor yet wholly men. Yet these latter were negotiable, 
 and the two or three girls who leavened the community wel- 
 comed them cheerfully. 
 
 Major Carter and Captain Fermor would, as of course, come 
 flashing in late. Welcome they at any time. For such brilliants 
 
204 Never Forgotten. 
 
 a dull background and setting was necessary. Yet already had 
 a white-faced pendule (a gilt classical lady, sitting on a metallic 
 sofa, with the dial between the legs of the sofa) given a smart 
 " ting." Young Brett, faithful as a terrier, had come, and was 
 keeping close to Miss Manuel, with his faithful terrier eyes 
 fixed on her face. Another officer or two, reluctantly asked by 
 Fermor, gave "an air" to the party, as a master would give -a 
 touch to a drawing. 
 
 She was at the piano, out of the room, in the room, and 
 everywhere. When the dial between the sofa legs of the pen- 
 dule gave out eleven "tings," Violet's face began to show some 
 of the old lines of anxiety. As little processions entered the 
 room, of ices, teas, and cakes, she started and looked towards the 
 door. The opening of her little campaign was being too, too 
 long delayed. Her heart was growing sick, and she heard a 
 military European say aloud, with the freedom of his tribe, " I 
 say, what the deuce can have become of Fermor?" 
 
 Below stairs others had been wondering also, but for this 
 reason : that Mr. Bates, who had readily promised his services 
 with trays and other heavy objects, had appointed to be there at 
 ten "sharp," as he put it. Ten "sharp" had long gone by ; it 
 was now a good deal more than eleven sharp. Much troubled 
 in mind by this desertion, and really laying it to the account ot 
 death or accident, the faithful maid, Jane, "slipped on" her 
 bonnet and shawl, and flitted away up to Brown's Terrace. 
 When the door was opened she asked for Captain Fermor. He 
 had gone out taken his things, too so had Mr. Bates. But a 
 note had been left, which was to be sent up in the morning to 
 Mrs. Manuel's. Here it was. 
 
 Wondering, much mystified, and not at all "seeing her way," 
 for so clever a fairy godmother, she went home. She could not 
 get further than that Mr. Bates and Captain Fermor had gone 
 to their barracks for the better facilities of dressing. It was not 
 improbable. 
 
 By the time she reached home it was long past twelve o'clock. 
 The brother, Louis, had been biting his lips ; his heart was full 
 of fury at this public slight, as it appeared to be. Certain of the 
 elderly maidens had said to Pauline in a friendly endearing way, 
 "How is it that Captain Fermor is not here, my dear?" Violet, 
 in such distress with this protraction that she had flung away all 
 thought of acting, sat with her eyes fixed, worn, and hopeless, 
 on the door, her figure drooped, her fine clothes hanging about 
 her, and Hanbury watching her with a sad and puzzled interest. 
 
Violet's Party. 2oj 
 
 As the pendule " ting'd" half-past twelve, she started as if it were 
 the bell for execution. Another bell rang at the hall, and she 
 went hurriedly over to the window. It was the maid, and 
 Violet saw the note in her hand. In great trepidation she all 
 but ran out of the room. 
 
 Ah ! at that moment the London express had halted for 
 refreshment forty miles away. Fermor and his friend Carter, 
 wrapped in cloaks, were standing on the platform forty miles 
 away under an illuminated clock. 
 
 The maid tripped up-stairs, bonnet and shawl on. Violet met 
 her at the door. 
 
 t{ Give give it to me," she said, wildly. 
 
 " All quite right, miss," said the maid, confidentially j "they 
 will le here presently. 1 " 
 
 The door was wide open, and nearly every one of the little 
 company the Europeans, natives, all heard a slow, sad, ago- 
 nising cry outside, and Young Brett ran out just in time to catch 
 her in his arms. Many crowded out and saw the hapless child, 
 with what seemed death in her face, and one arm outstretched, 
 holding tightly the fatal sheet of paper. 
 
 In a moment they had all poured out on the little landing, 
 with a curiosity which overbore all decent restraint. The girls 
 crushed and rustled to see. " What is it ? what was it ? what is 
 in the letter? has he broken it off? gone off, has he?" One, 
 indeed, had artfully glanced at the open paper in that now rigid 
 little hand. The story was, indeed, known, or as good as known, 
 in a few seconds. 
 
 There lay the poor child in her flowers and tulle, ghastly 
 white, relaxed, and as it seemed dying, supported by Hanbury, 
 who, bursting through the little crowd, had taken her from 
 Young Brett. In a few moments more they carried her up, her 
 little finery all torn into shreds, as it was trod on by those who 
 carried her, amidst the despairing faces of her own family. The 
 crowd, transformed into a "low" crowd by the greed of curio- 
 sity, crept half-way up the stairs, and listened. But Hanbury, 
 coming down, bluntly and roughly and without ceremony, cleared 
 them out of the house. Only the representative doctor who 
 had come as a guest remained professionally. 
 
 However terrible such a crisis, shattering the brain even as a 
 blow of a bludgeon does the skull, it seldom kills. Far later on 
 that night, or on that morning, she opened her eyes on the 
 anxious faces gathered round her, shivered, shrieked again, sub- 
 sided soon into low sighs and quiet moans. The representative 
 
206" Never Forgotten. 
 
 doctor then stepped in, and brought such remedies as he could 
 apply. 
 
 At that moment the express, a hundred and twenty miles 
 away, was rolling into London. It was a cold morning. The 
 colder grey was breaking. For the last hour, under the pleasant 
 encouragement of the major, Fermor had ceased to look back, 
 and was beginning to look forward to a gay and brilliant future. 
 The little fibres, whose parting had caused him a little pain, 
 were joining again very fast. They had even had some snatches 
 of sleep. 
 
 <l They must have had a merry night of it," said the major, 
 as they went to claim their luggage -, " much more so than we 
 poor travellers eh ? I can tell you they have enjoyed it ! 
 Goodness ! how sleepy I am ! And our friend Hanbury, I bet 
 you, has been making good use of his time eh ?" 
 
 CHAPTER THE THIRTY-EIGHTH. 
 
 . A MEETING. 
 
 A LL that long day Fermor had hardly time to think. At the 
 "^ Horse Guards at the Indian outfitter's at his tailor's at 
 his family's, he lived almost in cabs. He saw that Sir Charles 
 who was "one of his relative's oldest friends," and was received 
 with unofficial cordiality. " Glad to do anything for my old 
 chum, Sir Hopkins. Besides, you have had no leave for eighteen 
 months. Severe accident, too. Very well. Leave directions 
 with your agents, and we shall take care of you." 
 
 Later he saw his mother, Lady Laura. 
 
 The "girls" were in the Park with "Young Piper/' riding 
 the coursers of Young Piper. That youth was, as it were, drunk 
 with his infatuation. Lady Laura welcomed her son as though 
 she were an ordinary mother of flesh and blood, gave him a 
 really maternal embrace, and approached nearer to weeping 
 than she had ever done in her life. 
 
 (l My dear boy," she said, as he told her his story, " I am 
 indeed proud of you. This is a brave, manly, and sensible course. 
 I always said I admire your resolution and self-denial. I do 
 indeed. Look at that child Piper, that is running after Alicia 
 Mary, like a weak schoolboy. But I said all along that you 
 were following out some little plan of your own ; and I was not 
 
A Meeting. 20) 
 
 far out.*' Fermor was a little elated with these* praises, and had 
 ^ sort of dim impression that "all along" his hand directed the 
 -course of events. " As for the girl who, I am told, is clever 
 enough would you, my dear Charles, leave it to me ? Shall I 
 write a kind, friendly note, to say the thing must stand over for 
 the present, and that if you are both in the same mind when you 
 return, why, it can all begin again? That is the proper way, 
 Charles, and a very good test it will be of her sincerity. Young 
 Monboddo went to his regiment at Ceylon under exactly such 
 an arrangement with that country girl ; but, my dear, when he 
 came back, he found her my Lady Nugent." 
 
 The excitement prevented him from thinking. By the even- 
 ing he had done a wonderful day's business. He met Major 
 Carter by appointment at Starridge's, the correct batchelor's 
 hotel in Bond-street, and they dined together. At eight they 
 were driving up to the South-Eastern railway, among the flash- 
 ing lamps, to go down by the mail to Dover. 
 
 "I met," said the major, as they got out, "some common 
 friends to-day. I did not tell you, as it was to be a little surprise 
 for you." 
 
 Fermor was glad. He was growing gloomy and morose as he 
 thought of this second night's journey to be taken alone. The 
 major was to stay in London. 
 
 " Here they are," said he, as they emerged on the busy plat- 
 form ; and Fermor saw a tall stiff figure in shadow, and a 
 muffled lady on his arm. " I declare, here are our friends/* 
 said the major. "Delightful, is it not? Going the same way, 
 too quite a coincidence." 
 
 Perhaps it was. The Carlays were going to the south of 
 France after some days* stay in London. Now, indeed, the 
 gloomy prison-like journey, which he had shrunk from, would 
 become a little blue boudoir, well lit, comfortable, and cheerful. 
 This simple girl would entertain him with her unconcealed 
 worship. The act of making a journey together is a link of 
 sympathy, for there are common troubles and a common under- 
 taking. 
 
 So the bell rang, and the night mail flew down to Dover, past 
 many sleepy pointsmen, who had come out of their hutches on 
 duty, and saw the cozy, well-lighted blue chambers flit by ; in 
 one of which Captain Fermor, his knees wrapped in his rug, was 
 stooping over, talking with great animation of voice and gesture 
 to the lady next him. Then came the cold night air on the pier, 
 and the rocking packet, and weary dozing, and Paris in the grey 
 
208 Never Forgotten. 
 
 of the morning, and the great Boulevards, with the trees and the 
 white palaces, and the men in blouses going to work, and the 
 great door of the great hotel, which a portier, who never slept, 
 swung slowly open. Then the sleepy travellers went to their 
 rest for an hour or so. 
 
 Fermor had often boasted of his " iron constitution," and by 
 tenor eleven o'clock was asking to see " his Excellency" Sir 
 Hopkins Pocock, who was breakfasting in a private room of the 
 hotel. 
 
 The welcome he received from that high public servant was 
 indeed cordial. "My dear, dear boy," he said, "this is right, 
 now. I am proud of you. You were made for the service. I 
 knew you would turn out the right sort. This is our hard fate. We 
 are obliged to pocket our nicest feelings for the public. Break- 
 fasted? No? Then ring, please." 
 
 They breakfasted together, spent the day very pleasantly 
 going about, Sir Hopkins leaning on his arm 5 dined at the 
 Three Brothers caf -, went to the opera, and walked after the 
 opera along that Arabian Nights' Entertainment, which is the 
 Boulevard des Italiens. Fermor felt pensive among these glories, 
 yet was not disturbed in mind great dreams of ambition were 
 filling his soul. 
 
 In the morning they were gone again, flying down through 
 the delightful wine countries to Lyons, seeming to breathe the 
 bouquet of Burgundies and other choice vintages as they passed. 
 Musical names rang in their ears. They were at Lyons that 
 night -, and there was light enough, as they crossed the airy 
 bridge, to see the molten silver of the Rhone below. They slept 
 soundly through the night, and in the morning were breakfasting 
 at "The Empereur," at Marseilles. The hum and clatter of 
 the Canebiere was under their windows. The gay parti-coloured 
 sails before the shop-windows were fluttering below them. The 
 delightful quay of La Joliette was but a few yards away, where 
 the ships of all countries, and the sailors of all countries, and the 
 merchants and the wares, and the voices and the dresses of all, 
 were as gay and bright under the sun as the market scene in 
 Masaniello. The steamer was to sail at noon as, indeed, were 
 many more steamers, and the commissionaire was busy in their 
 interest. 
 
 " By the way, my dear boy," said Sir Hopkins, picking his 
 teeth, " (I have sent for the cab), I found a letter here this 
 morning. Sent on, you know. It is rather awkward. That 
 post I spoke ofMackenzie's you know." 
 
A Meeting 309 
 
 " Yes," said Fermor, nervously. "Good gracious! nothing 
 wrong, I hope ?" 
 
 " Oh, it will all come right, I am sure. But, it now seems (I 
 don't understand it, I am sure), the home government claims 
 the appointment." 
 
 "WHAT?" said Fermor, breaking out hotly. "Do you 
 mean to tell me that, after all I have done, and been made 
 to do " 
 
 " It is outrageous, as you say," said Sir Hopkins, coolly ; " they 
 grasp at everything. The worst part is, they have a sort of a 
 shadow of a title, you see some arrangement or composition. 
 But, of course, it must be looked into." 
 
 "But," said Fermor, pacing up and down excitedly, "this is 
 very odd looks very odd ! I don't understand it. I have been 
 Jed away depending on assurances, and now it seems I must 
 tell you, sir it has a very curious look, sir." 
 
 " I am not accountable, Charles. You must deal with the 
 home government. It is they who are grasping at the office. 
 You know there is time yet to withdraw." 
 
 " Ah ! it is easy, sir, to say there is time to withdraw. At 
 this place at this time after sacrificing everything on the faith 
 of this my word my honour " 
 
 "Your honour ! Good God !" said Sir Hopkins, starting up, 
 and nearly overthrowing his chair. "Your honour, Charles! 
 I hope not. O, I hope not. You are not in earnest * No, I 
 see you are not." 
 
 Fermor hung his head. There was a pause. 
 
 'I don't mean that," he said. "But, sir, sir/' he added, 
 sadly, "you cannot deceive me in this way.' 1 
 
 " Come, come," said Sir Hopkins, in a friendly, hearty manner, 
 " I allow for this excitement, Charles. It is quite natural, and 
 I respect you for it. There are other things going, and we shall 
 make out something for you. You know," added Sir Hopkins, 
 smiling, "it would hardly do to re-present yourself after all this 
 fuss and esclandre. As the Frenchmen say, ridicule always 
 kills. I declare," he added, looking down over the balcony, 
 * here is the cab. We really ought to pay the bill now. Yes, 
 'nd put the final touches to the baggage. Will you look after 
 those servants, like a good boy> Aliens. 7 ' 
 
 Fermor bowed his head and said not a word. In a few 
 minutes more he was driven away to the quay, and was on 
 board the Indian mail-boat. 
 
2 1 o Never Forgotten. 
 
 The life on board the Mediterranean steamer was epicurean. 
 There were bright days and cobalt seas. Youth was at the 
 prow, and Pleasure at the helm. It was a gay voyage. 
 
 CHAPTER THE THIRTY-NINTH, 
 
 FADING OUT. 
 
 AT the very time that Captain Fermor (who must fill up 
 his day), seated on a camp-stool on deck, was gossiping 
 agreeably to an Indian lady whose husband was below at cards, 
 a dreary desolation and hopeless sorrow was falling on the 
 Manuels' house. 
 
 Violet rose up after the shock sooner than her family dared 
 to hope. For a week the very acuteness of the suffering, the 
 excitement and speculation it brought with it, carried her for- 
 ward. Her sister, worn away with night watching, had whis- 
 pered desperately, "You must not give way, darling -, keep 
 away the thought 3 fight it off;" for she knew, if it once seized 
 on her, the talons would sink deeper and deeper, and never let 
 her go. She said this over and over again, with a sort of de- 
 spair almost with menace -, and Violet, already stunned and 
 exhausted, actually found herself avoiding the thought by a sort 
 of horror. 
 
 It was when she came down again into the whole routine of 
 life white, worn, shrunk, and with a timid, cowering look, as 
 if she expected that the blow would come again from some 
 uncertain quarter that the change was seen in all its dismal 
 force. They could all have wept over her. And when sister 
 and mother clung about her, and pressed her to them, they 
 remarked a sort of insensibility that did not require consolation. 
 
 "I am getting better," she said, looking at them with a little 
 air of resolution. " I am indeed. I shall gradually learn not 
 to think of it, and then it will wear itself out." 
 
 Wear itself out ! Alas ! There was something busy at that 
 work already : thoughts in myriads, seething and bubbling night 
 and day thoughts of fearful self-reproach, as if this business 
 had been the work of her own folly thoughts of lost happiness, 
 sheer hopelessness, and a cloud of despair in the west, coming 
 on slowly, though now no bigger than a man's hand. With 
 such fierce contests the little delicate frame was wearing, though 
 
fading Out. ^ii 
 
 slowly. The sheath was fretting away. And, besides, there 
 was a struggle of concealment which was, indeed, the only 
 purpose that kept her up not to hurt those kind, miserable, 
 interested faces that were turned to her a hundred times in 
 the day. 
 
 The suffering was, indeed, almost divided. On Mrs. Manuel 
 and the others the blow had fallen so tremendously, the crash 
 had been so bewildering, so wholesale and complete, that they 
 did not even dream of looking back, or think of a remedy. 
 They might as well have been looking, after an avalanche, 
 to where their house once stood. It could hardly be called 
 hopelessness, for they had never dreamed for a moment of 
 hoping. The whole thing was too plain. And now all they 
 thought of was saving what was left to them. 
 
 What coldness and almost rawness was in the house! As 
 though there was a dusty lonely hearth in every room, and the 
 fires were never to be lighted again. The terrible gauntness of 
 life, that sets in after the death of any one that has been loved, 
 seemed to be present. Yet Violet, with a cheerfulness that 
 made the hearts of all about her ache, went hither and thither 
 with what seemed a newly -found zest for the practical duties of 
 life. No one, as yet, could see how it would end. 
 
 As the Eastport season was now over, and the town itself 
 almost emptied, this little catastrophe came in seasonably enough 
 for the natives. The good folks were grateful, and t-he " wit- 
 nesses " to the scene unhappily to few in proportion to the 
 want of the population were held even in a competitive 
 esteem. Even in communities of greater importance such a 
 business rarely takes place. It was canvassed in many shapes, 
 with eagerness, humour, anger j but in most instances with 
 satisfaction. 
 
 Young Brett as indeed might be expected now shone out 
 in brightest and most faithful colours. More honest and service- 
 able devotion could not be conceived. He took it grievously to 
 heart, yet with divided emotions -, for he could not bring himself 
 to believe much ill of his friend, whom he clung to so loyally. 
 He charitably held to their being foreign influences at work, and 
 to Fermor's being in some sort the victim of destiny. Having 
 arrived, through many painful stages of reasoning, at this con- 
 clusion, he was at liberty to indulge his sympathy. How his 
 heart was wrung for that suffering family ! How, with a deeply 
 dejected face, he came there when he thought he could, and as 
 often as he could, with decency ! And when admitted he 
 
211 Never Forgotten. 
 
 could have wished himself away, he found himself so dull and 
 clumsy. He would have given worlds to have been allowed to 
 show his deep, deep feelings in some bold, substantial shape $ 
 for what were words which, after all, he did not possess, and 
 could not buy ? He thought faintly and remotely of the gun, 
 so satisfactory in the instance of men. He had always found it 
 the fullest and happiest exponent. Here he saw it was wholly 
 out of place, but the idea in his mind was as of something ana- 
 logous to the gun. This lay on his mind, and the honest child 
 laboured much, and with real distress, at what he called seeing 
 his way, and saw, at least, that he must bound his wishes by 
 mere sympathy. 
 
 For Pauline he felt most, and was so earnest that she should 
 employ him in some way, that she felt for him, and did give 
 him some trifling commission. He would have been proud to 
 have been used as errand-boy even. His good terrier face, full 
 of sympathy, brought a sort of comfort to the house. 
 
 Someway he seemed more suited to the present tone of 
 affairs than John Hanbury, who came also, and tried hard to 
 make himself useful and acceptable. Yet he felt and felt 
 very unjustly, too that he was associated with the late business. 
 His honest face, full of unbounded sympathy, kept alive what all 
 were anxious to put away, like the vacant chair of a lost relative, 
 or a picture. He could not bring himself to see it in this way, 
 and was, in fact, longing and praying for some opening in which 
 he could prove himself devoted. 
 
 Those weeks were indeed an awful time. The weary look 
 in Violet's face almost shocked him. About the twentieth 
 evening of the twentieth day Hanbury found her alone in 
 the drawing-room, and with the best intentions in the world 
 began to offer some earnest good advice, but which he handled 
 clumsily. 
 
 It was to the strain of " going away," of " keeping up," of 
 "having a duty to oneself, and the friends who loved her so," 
 with the other platitudes, about as useful and practical as though 
 one were to say in the case of a broken blood-vessel, " Do make 
 an effort, and the bleeding will stop." He spoke with a 
 trembling voice. " For God's sake do, dearest Miss Violet. It 
 is killing us all to see the way you look. For all our sakes, do, 
 I implore you ; and there are some of us who would die for 
 you." 
 
 Violet listened a little vacantly at first, passed her hand over 
 her face, tossed her head, and laughed a faint laugh., "Why 
 
Fading Out. 213 
 
 do you talk of dying?" she said; "pray don't mention the 
 word. We have all wonderful dispositions. I will get mamma 
 to go somewhere. I should like a pleasant watering-place, 
 with plenty of people; something gay, for this is growing dull. 
 So dull/' added Violet, forcing the muscles of her lips into a 
 smile, " that that " 
 
 Hanbury was looking at her, wondering and terrified, when 
 she spoke out suddenly, covering up her face, 
 
 "I can't, I cant any longer 5 I can't indeed! Go away, 
 leave me do let every one leave me. O ! " and she was 
 tossing on the sofa, gasping and sobbing in a sort of frantic 
 tempest of grief. Hanbury rushed to the bell, rushed to the 
 door. They were all in the room in a moment, round the 
 unhappy child. Hanbury fled to the open street, beating his 
 forehead as he went. More of the old clumsiness ! He could 
 go and drown himself. 
 
 Posting along, and not caring where he went, he suddenly 
 saw Colonel Bolstock, Fermor's colonel, riding by; rather, he 
 saw a horse of his own which the colonel had bought. The 
 colonel pulled up : for a little talk about a horse, in the presence 
 of a horse, was like having a cigar. An idea suddenly flashed 
 upon Hanbury ; not often had he such inspirations. 
 
 " Doing well," said the colonel, looking down the flanks of 
 the horse; " turning out very fairly indeed." 
 
 "Tell me," said Hanbury, hastily; "Fermor's gone,! know, 
 but what time did he say he would be back?" 
 
 " I gave him ten days' leave," said the colonel ; " by the way, 
 there's a horse of his " 
 
 "There, that will do," said Hanbury, turning back; "I beg 
 
 your pardon, I must go " And he was gone, leaving the 
 
 colonel looking sourly after him. Here was news indeed; 
 stupid of them all not to have thought of that. After all, 
 Fermor was true called suddenly away. Above all, that he 
 should be the bearer of some news ! This would redeem months 
 of clumsiness. 
 
 He rushed up-stairs and plunged into the room again. Violet 
 was still working in hysterical sobbing. The anxious faces were 
 about her. 
 
 " I have got some news," said Hanbury, his great eyes 
 twinkling with honest delight. They all started. "Yes, some 
 news," he said, " at least, He's only gone for ten days." 
 
 Violet flew to her mother with a cry. "I knew it I I knew 
 it ! I kjiew it ! " she almost shrieked. " O, mamma [ mamma !" 
 
a 14 Never Forgotten. 
 
 and she fell on her mother's shoulder, weeping and sobbing, and 
 laughing again. 
 
 Pauline looked at Hanbury doubtfully, almost angrily. "What 
 is this story?" she said, in a half whisper $ "you should not 
 have done it. Tell me about it." 
 
 " No, no," said he, scarcely listening, but looking anxiously 
 at Violet j " it is all certain the colonel himself told me. And 
 I tell you what," he added, with excitement, "this night I am 
 going up to London, will find him out there, tell him of our 
 poor darling child, and return with joyful news. Perhaps bring 
 him back ! There ! " 
 
 Pauline shook her head sorrowfully. 
 
 He saw opposition, and said, piteously, " Let me go. Do ' I 
 must, indeed. It will be doing something." 
 
 It did strike Pauline that it would, after all, be doing some- 
 thing. Anything and the bare expectancy of anything was 
 better than the fatal waste of hopeless despondency into which 
 they were now plunged. 
 
 She said no more, and Hanbury went his way. Alas! if he 
 had only waited to hear that mounted colonel finish his sentence 
 leisurely, he would have been told of a letter which had arrived 
 at the barracks the day before. He had not waited. 
 
 Hanbury came back when he was ready. Violet was in a 
 nervous flutter, saying over and over again, with a frantic delight, 
 "I knew it ! I knew it ! What did I tell you all ? " 
 
 "Don't reckon too much, darling, on these things. How it 
 goes to my heart to damp your spirits but don't." 
 
 "Nor do I reckon on too much, mamma. But now I have a 
 conviction, a certain conviction. I knew it I said it." (Poor 
 child, she never had said it, indeed.) "Dear Mr. Hanbury, my 
 own true friend, you know me, you understand me. I always 
 believed it. Go, now. Don't lose a second. You will be too 
 late, indeed you will. He will come back with you if he can 5 
 if not, make him write. Be sure you do." 
 
 Violet's face was earnest and wild, as she impressed these in- 
 structions on him. 
 
 "I must go up now," she said, the tired look spreading like 
 a film upon her face, "for I have gone through a good deal 
 lately, thinking over all this. And I have been very foolish $ 
 but you jnust own that his going away so suddenly on that night 
 it looked " 
 
 Her eyes began x to swim, and in a moment she was weeping 
 silently and bitterly,, but without her old agitation. And her 
 
Sicut Flos. 21 5 
 
 mother had put her arms round her, and said, straining her close, 
 as if some one were about to take her away from her, 
 
 "My own dear, darling, darling child !" 
 
 And thus Hanbury started after this fatal Will-o'-the-wisp. 
 He got to London, and there was told the truth. " He's gone 
 to India, sir," said the gentleman at Starridge's. "Yes, he was 
 on his way." 
 
 Fermor at that moment was seeing the sun rise on the blue 
 waters of the Mediterranean with fine effect. The packet was 
 listlessly gliding over the sea. Jt was charming dolce far niente. 
 The little romance he had passed through came back on him ' 
 with a gentle pain, not wholly unpleasant. " Poor, poor Violet ! " 
 he said, "I feel some reproaches of conscience. I do indeed. 
 She was 50 gentle. Only for that set about her they were 
 turning her into a perfect little Machiavel. Ah! Mrs. Rose, 
 you out so early on deck ? Is not this a picture! Is not this 
 like molten cobalt, &c. ! " 
 
 CHAPTER THE FORTIETH, 
 
 SICUT FLOS. 
 
 (~)N the day that Hanbury returned to Eastport by the mail 
 train, there came with him, in the railway post-office, a 
 letter in Lady Laura's writing a letter which she had put off 
 writing, partly from its being a disagreeable duty, and partly 
 from her having other more important affairs to claim her 
 attention. Her hearing of Hanbury's inquiries brought the 
 matter again to her mind. " That girl" had been sending one 
 of " her set" to look after Charles, perhaps to intimidate, so she 
 went to her desk and wrote a good practical letter, a little kind 
 in parts, a little cold in others, but, above all, lady-like. "After 
 all," said Lady Laura, "the girl has some reason to complain. 
 Charles had no business to make a fool of her. With people of 
 her class time is money. I must say," thought Lady Laura, 
 beginning to ruminate, "we got him out of it very cleverly. If 
 I had been one of the stupid, storming, crying mothers, he would 
 have been tied to that girl by this time." 
 
 She enclosed a letter of " Charles's " directed to Violet, which 
 
Never Forgotten. 
 
 had been lying in her desk for many days, and lent both to the 
 post. 
 
 H anbury could not bring himself to go near the place for 
 hours after his arrival. A day had been fixed for his return, su 
 he was expected. Violet was flitting about the house anxiously 
 and restlessly, in a wearing agitation. She was, in fact, in a 
 sort of low fever at the moment. Her pale face was seen at 
 many windows looking out wistfully. A mysterious instinct of 
 some terror or horror approaching filled all other hearts in the 
 house. 
 
 The post came. With a little swoop Violet was down at the 
 door. With her hot hand she got a letter addressed to herself, 
 and knew Lady Laura's writing. She gasped as she tore it 
 open. The others were on the stairs hurrying after her but 
 too late. There was Fermor's letter inside, and, with a cry of 
 joy, she flew up-stairs. " He has written I He has written ! " 
 she said, " and I knew it ! I knew it ! " 
 
 What followed may be conceived when the first lines of 
 that letter, written ever so tenderly and gently, trembled before 
 her eyes. She had instinct enough to guess it all. That was 
 her last blow. How was it to be expected that so frail a crea- 
 ture should endure so much ? The little resolution the little 
 " manfulness," if it may be called so, which she had kept up for 
 the sake of others, had now given way, and the waters now 
 rushed in. 
 
 On that night all was changed into a house of misery. A 
 wretched mother of a wretched daughter, aged and feeble her- 
 self, could not endure all these shocks. The low fever present 
 in Violet's hot hands spread violently. The local doctor, the 
 same who had been at their little feast, came in again and began 
 his work. He did what he could, yet he was not of " the 
 skilful." Yet one of greater skill even than Mr. Cade, whose 
 touch had so miraculously healed the bruised Fermor (O sweet 
 days! basking in a golden light, and removed centuries away!) 
 even he could not avail much more. A quiet patient ; giving 
 " no trouble," waiting for the moment eagerly. 
 
 Two miserable faces, worn and haggard, watched that slow 
 travelling away: that soft face gradually spiritualised into a 
 shadow. She was as quiet as a child which indeed she wasj 
 to quiet, so calm, that they began to whisper doubtfully to them- 
 selves that she was growing better. 
 
Sicut Flos. 21] 
 
 One Sunday morning the unskilful local doctor ran in to see 
 her as he went to his church. The sun came in so brightly, the 
 new flowers which thoughtful hands sent every day to fill the 
 room looked so fresh and gay, and there was such a reflected 
 brightness on Violet's face, and she spoke so softly and calmly, 
 though still with her old weariness, that he was quite con- 
 founded. " The turn has come," he said below in the drawing- 
 room. "My dear friends, there is every hope. I say so seriously. 
 I do indeed. I am the last man in the world that would 
 encourage vain expectations. I tell you, I am astonished at the 
 change." 
 
 Grateful eyes were bent on this angel of good tidings : full 
 and suffused hearts could not trust themselves to speak. " Take 
 her out," he said, turning to Louis, and pointing to Pauline ; 
 " this fine sun will do her good. She is exhausted with all this 
 watching, and it will give you both strength." 
 
 The faithful maid remained with Violet, who seemed, from 
 her soft, half-closed eyes, to be on the verge of sleep. On the 
 last night she had slept a little. The brother and sister went 
 out, too grateful to omit anything they were told to do. They 
 wandered on along a certain green lane lined with trees a 
 walk the sisters were fond of for half an hour. They heard 
 the church bells at a distance, and from the green lane could 
 see the congregation in a gay parti-coloured ribbon unwinding 
 from the porch. They then turned to go home, for they were 
 fearful of staying too long, and met John Hanbury on the way. 
 The air was delicious. The three walked together slowly, and 
 in a low voice they told him of the happy change. 
 
 When they were not a hundred yards from home, they saw 
 some one running to them and beckoning violently. It was the 
 faithful maid, with a scared and terrified face. They hurried 
 down to the house to meet her. As she passed them she did 
 not stop, and they only caught the words, " for the doctor! " 
 
 They were in the room in a second. A frantic woman was 
 on her knees at the bedside, tossing her arms, hardly recognisable 
 as Mrs. Manuel. There was a face lying there, whiter than 
 they had ever seen face before, and a sort of light seemed to 
 flutter over it from the eyes to the lips, from the lips to the eyes 
 back again. Sweet, soft Violet sweet, soft, persecuted Violet 
 was drifting slowly away out of the rude rough waters, which 
 had been too troubled for her gentle little soul. 
 
 As the three came round her, either the sound, or the sudden 
 
218 Never Forgotten 
 
 appearance, seemed to stay that gliding progress ; faint colouf 
 floated back into the pale face, the eyelids were lifted slowly 5 
 and from those eyes, not yet glazing, stole out gentle recognition. 
 Light hovered about her lips, which seemed to move, either 
 attempting to speak or trying to meet her sister's. Now, hap- 
 pily, the old troubles, the old doubts, the old expectancy 
 troubles, anguish, all were dropping fast behind. Pauline 
 stooped over, and the lips of the two sisters were pressed toge- 
 ther. Such little power as there was left seemed to be spent in 
 that kiss, and when Pauline raised herself, and looked down 
 again with dim eyes, she saw a sweet and gracious tranquillity 
 below, and a smiling repose, which told her that that little 
 heart was no more to be fretted by man's cruelty. 
 
 All through the fatal and immemorial routine which succeeds 
 a departure such as has been described through the early blind- 
 ing stupefaction, the dismal leading away, the horrible sense of 
 solitude, and the tremendous and gaunt desertion which walks 
 in and takes possession of the house like an ogre, with tears after 
 a time beginning to flow in frantic bursts when in this dismal 
 succession that Sunday was nearly spent, and evening had drawn 
 on, Pauline was sitting in the drawing-room, stiff, hard, stony, 
 with strained eyes that had shed few tears, and had almost a 
 fierce look. The faithful maid flitted up to her at times in 
 alarm, and spoke to her softly and soothingly but she did not 
 hear. 
 
 Alarmed, the brother came down with red and swollen eyes, 
 took her hand in his, and with a broken voice tried some of the 
 hackneyed " common forms" of comfort. The faithful servant 
 came and joined him, adding her voice. She, indeed, felt it as 
 sorely as any of them, and her consolation made its way through 
 sobs. But Pauline did not hear them. Her eyes were on some 
 object in the window, where there was no perceptible object. 
 
 He grew alarmed. " Come, Pauline dearest, try. Do speak 
 to us! We all feel and are heart-broken, but we must help 
 each other. We have to live for others now !' 
 
 A flash came into Pauline's face a flash that made him draw 
 back. She started to her feet. With a sharp, hard tone, they 
 heard her speak now for the first time. She said, 
 
 " Yes. We have something else to live for, too. If 1 had 
 not that to think of, I think I should lie down there and die. 
 I must Jind him." 
 
The New Play. 
 
 CHAPTER THE FORTY-FIRST. 
 
 THE NEW PLAY. 
 
 A LITTLE white retiring monument in the Eastport church 
 yard, marked with a carved violet and a simple girl's name, 
 was beginning to turn a little grey, after two years' exposure. 
 Over at Eastport the soft rain was dropping gently on it. ; but 
 in Paris, at the same moment, a hot Paris day was fading, and 
 French Capua, where Youth is always at the prow, and Plea- 
 sure sleepless at the helm, was getting ready for its night. 
 Little standing armies were drawn up in rank and file at every 
 theatre door; and in the court-yard of the Grand Sybarite 
 Hotel, at the foot of the stone staircase, was waiting a carriage 
 of the establishment, to take away guests to the opera or 
 theatre. 
 
 The Sybarites had feasted some four hundred strong, and 
 were dropping away down the steps two and three together, in 
 a pleasant rout. The Frenchmen, very warm and mellow, like 
 true voluptuaries, were lighting cigars and picking teeth, or 
 abstractedly feeling their purloined sugar lumps in their pockets. 
 The hotel was lit up. Lights flashed from the Hundred and 
 One Bureaux. Indistinctly the stars were seen through the 
 great glass roof over the court. There was a glimpse of Paradise 
 at the bright cafe to the left, where were wandering in the sated 
 diners to lounge on velvet. Bright clean waiter youths lolled 
 on the great stairs and chattered ; for work was done. Car- 
 riages plunging and clattering in under the porch were pulled 
 up with violence, and, flinging out a visitor, clashed to their 
 doors and were gone again. There was lull in the life of the 
 huge hotel -, for it had been rather spent with the grand opera- 
 tion just passed through, and there was a reaction. The Capuans 
 were languid. 
 
 The carriage of the establishment had been waiting more 
 than half an hour, when a shining boy of a waiter called from 
 the top of the steps to the coachman to be on the alert, for his 
 company were coming down. Presently there did come down 
 a tall Englishman in evening uniform, with an auburn-haired 
 girl in a white cloak upon his arm wreath, fan, and snowy 
 gloves. He was clean, fresh, and transparent of skin, as only 
 Englishmen are. Two young gay waiters leaning on the balus- 
 trade smiled after them. A man in green and gold, bursting 
 from some concealed hutch or warren, was holding the door 
 
32O Never Forgotten. 
 
 open magnificently, then shut it to firmly as the couple entered, 
 and the direction was given. 
 
 Boy-waiter the first looked at his neighbour inquiringly. Boy- 
 waiter the second answered the look in speech. 
 
 " Capitaine Anglais." 
 
 " Oui ! Numero 60." 
 
 Deft handmaids had long since investigated minutely the 
 crested ivory brushes in Numero 60, and studied Madame's 
 dresses, and seen on a roomy portmanteau large white initials 
 " C. F.," and read with lame pronunciation a little card, 
 " Captain Fermor." 
 
 Not alone the two English in the neat fiacre, but all Paris, 
 was converging to the one theatre. They were lighting up 
 Aladdin's Wonderful Lamps all along the magic Boulevards. 
 Crowds of the faithful sitting at tiny marble tables, sipping from 
 the cloudy carafTes, saw through the trees the train of dark 
 coaches trundling by with a flare to the one spot. 
 
 The English girl-wife, sitting in the carriage of the Sybarite 
 establishment, burst out with all a child's raptures as she saw 
 this gay panorama pass by, She broke out with little soft 
 spasms of rapture. " How beautiful ! How lovely ! O, look ! 
 Do look!" while the English captain, calm as one who had 
 seen all the known shows of the world, does look out as a con- 
 cession to this pleasant popular humour and says that they do 
 these things very well on the whole. 
 
 He was pleased that she was pleased : that is, he was calmly 
 complacent. And, as they rolled along, he did the showman 
 as if he were goodnaturedly talking in his own grounds. There 
 will not be so enraptured an audience at any of the theatres 
 open to-night as his companion. It was her first night in Paris. 
 
 They got to their theatre. " Some fellow has a new play to- 
 night," said Captain Fermor, carelessly, as he helped her out and 
 looked round with disgust at some one who jostled him. " They 
 do make such a fuss about these things in this country." 
 
 The "fellow" who had written the play was a very famous 
 young author, who, in his round of daily life, had played many 
 characters, and shown many profiles. He was brilliant, witty, 
 sentimental, a petted darling of the salons, free and easy in 
 manner, freer and easier in his life, penniless and political. In 
 short, a true young French author. All these profiles, however,, 
 
 might have shown save the last j which was the wrong one 
 and which he had exhibited to wrong persons. So that when 
 the light-haired English captain and his wife IP custody of a 
 
The New Play. 221 
 
 dreadfully business-like woman in green, armed with little foot- 
 stools were let into a box or balcony, they found it crowded to 
 the ceiling, but with two armies mixed together below, who at 
 the proper season would draw off and join battle. 
 
 Captain Fermor settled himself, draw his hand up and dowu 
 freely over his fresh clean shirt linen (perhaps the freshest and 
 cleanest of all shirt linen in that assembly), fetched out his glass, 
 and did the honours of the place. The girl beside him had a 
 round quiet soft face, that would be called handsome, with a 
 good smile. With fresh round cheeks, that twenty years hence 
 would be fresher and rounder, she had a smile and a laugh ever 
 hovering hiding, perhaps at the corner of her mouth : which, 
 on faint encouragement, fluttered out and across to the other 
 side, like some of the little figures in the Strasburg clock. She 
 was very happy at that moment, in the gay and almost exciting 
 scene, in herself, and in the noble almost too superior pro- 
 tector and patron who sat beside her reading his bill, who was 
 so good natured as to teach her, in reference to many of the 
 little matters about her. 
 
 He took her through that document. "These fellows/' he 
 said, with comic pity, " will make a play out of anything. 
 Just listen: ' L'AMOUR SE PAIE.' This is what we have come 
 to see, -L* Amour se Paie. There they are, all like children 
 down there., crushing each other flat to get their doll or bit of 
 sugar-stick. I should like to throw it down to them how 
 they would struggle for it ! " 
 
 The girl laughed at this pleasant way of putting the thing, 
 and looked down at the ampitheatre of big children below. It 
 was the most crowded play-ground they had seen for some time ; 
 but the game would presently turn out of a rough sort. A 
 low hum and buzz rose, and nearly every one was standing up 
 with usual optical fire-arm levelled from his eye. 
 
 Next door, as it were, were a pair of typical Frenchmen, well 
 dined and well filled. They had about begun to live ; that 
 meal was almost the first tangible act of this day. One was 
 black and glossy haired, with cheeks shaded over, through im- 
 perfect shaving, like parchment written upon; the other a 
 gross swollen Frenchman, who under his waistcoat might have 
 been corded round and round like brawn, and whose hair, black, 
 short, and stubbly, dipped down in the centre of his forehead 
 like the peak of a lady's waist. Both did a great deal of 
 navvy's work, with little pickaxes, about their teeth, and both 
 contemplated the English girl with quiet and critical study, 
 
222. Never Forgotten. 
 
 as if she were part of the entertainment for which they had 
 paid. 
 
 "English? " said the corded gentleman, half across his pick- 
 axe. (He had come on a rocky and obstinate stratum.) 
 
 "Yes/' said the other, also excavating; "a dish fresh and 
 soft, too! " Both critics, calmly approbative, did not even care 
 to drop their voices. 
 
 "Dear Charles," said the girl, delighted with everything 
 about, " how charming all this is ! It is fairy land ! Oh, what 
 a place to live in ! Ah," said she, suddenly, " do you recollect 
 Roger le Garpon, that you used to lend me? Dear me," she 
 added, in a sort of rapture of recollection, " how pleasant all that 
 was ! Only this morning I was reading the old, old copy. But 
 you forget." 
 
 "Ah, yes !" said he. " To be sure. You know I don't like 
 plays. Why don't they begin in the orchestra?" Somehow, 
 he did not dwell on the reminiscence with the same relish as 
 she did. 
 
 "How long ago all that seems," went on the girl; "like a 
 dream. Your going to India and coming back again. And 
 that poor., soft child, Violet 5 who had such a charming name, 
 and turned out so cold and treacherous " 
 
 "A year and six months," said he, in a dry key, "is a year 
 and six months, I believe. There were things at that place, 
 and persons at that place, one meets every day. We have done 
 with it now, my dear child, and had better let it be, if you 
 please." 
 
 "But, somehow," she went on, "I felt such an interest in 
 her; almost like a sister. And I assure you," she continued, 
 in a little confusion, "only that papa had set his heart on 
 your marrying me I had often begged of him to go away and 
 leave the place ; it seemed so cruel to interfere with such a soft 
 creature as I fancied her." 
 
 Fermor coloured. " You are candid," he said, a little bit- 
 terly. It was only the first two months of their marriage, or 
 the infusion would have been stronger. " You tell the truth, 
 certainly. I suppose there are to be no secrets between hus- 
 band and wife." 
 
 She smiled, taking this for a welcome little burst of nuptial 
 jealousy. 
 
 "I like to talk of Eastport," she said, coquettishly, "for I 
 was very happy there, though so ill. And yet it was all 50 odd, 
 so incomprehensible. 1 ' 
 
The New Play. 22$ 
 
 " What, pray * " said he, suddenly. 
 
 " I mean lier turning out such a cold, designing creature 
 marrying that other man. I could not have fancied it. I was 
 so sorry, though it was so fortunate for me." 
 
 A smile of complacency struggled in Fermor's face, while he 
 said, "And for me too, I suppose I must say." 
 
 "And oh! will you forgive me for telling you ?" she went 
 on, eagerly. " When I first heard of it, I thought the poor girl 
 had been what they call thrown over, and I felt so much for 
 her, that I said to papa " 
 
 Fermor turned sharply on her. "We have come to hear this 
 play," he said, "and to amuse ourselves, have we not? By- 
 and-by, we shall have time enough for these reminiscences ; so 
 
 please, now " And he forced the rest of the sentence into 
 
 a hard smile and a harder nod. 
 
 She was sufficiently trained to see how thin the ice was about 
 this part. And she moved away cautiously from the subject. 
 
 Three strokes of a mallet on the stage made every flower 
 rustle its leaves as if a breeze had fluttered round, and the 
 curtain went up. 
 
 L' Amour se Paiewas after the true pattern of which regular 
 "forms" seem kept in stock in France. It was very long and 
 all conversational, and shifted from Madame HautefihVs draw- 
 ing-room to her garden and back again. When it came to be 
 printed by M. Dentu of the Palais Royal, the reader found his 
 page planted scantily with a few lines of type, and each line 
 boasted a few meagre shrubs of words. Still it was a marvel ot 
 neat wit wit that is fined and delicately grained with emery- 
 powder, and real ladies and gentlemen seemed to walk from 
 Madame Hautefille's drawing-room to her garden and back 
 again. 
 
 The way in which the truth, or aphorism, or even hypothesis 
 of L'Amour se Paie was set before the audience, lay in working 
 together a financier of tempered fun, a marquise, a Paris man of 
 fashion, a simple artless school-girl, and a "noble" tutor, suffer- 
 ing from his situation. All during the first act these threads were 
 plaited languidly : a warp of conversation was woven in volubly. 
 The exquisite showed his exquisiteness, the simple girl her 
 simplicity, the financier his finance, and the "noble " tutor his 
 nobleness yet nothing had been done. As the act-drop came 
 down there was applause from the grown children crowded 
 below, applause met strangely by scornful laughs and a few 
 hisses. But as yet there was nothing to applaud, nothing to 
 
224 Never Forgotten. 
 
 condemn ; the storming party were artfully waiting their time* 
 until, say the end of the third act ; when, waving their red flag, 
 they would fly at the redoubt and sack the doomed piece. 
 
 Captain Fermor, looking down from his loge, which was high 
 enough, and from a yet higher balcon of lofty English disdain, 
 said, with a curling lip, "And they call this thing a play, do 
 they? What is it all about? Why, it isn't a patch upon the 
 Haymarket." 
 
 The fresh soft girl knew French that is, the French of men 
 and women thoroughly. Fermor had some old building 
 materials of that tongue, bought at school, lying about in his 
 head. 
 
 " Oh, but, Charles," she said, " that poor young man, so 
 chivalrous " 
 
 " Do you mean that whining tutor ?" he said, contemptuously. 
 "The whole thing is a bore. It must fail. I wish," he added, 
 putting up his hand politely to stop a yawn, " I wish we had 
 gone to that other thing, what d'ye call it spectacle." 
 
 The two Frenchmen still looked at the English lady steadily. 
 The corded one mellow with good Medoc and coffee, and a 
 little cognac on the surface of the coffee, which, coming so near 
 the top, gave his cheeks and eyes a warm inflamed tone 
 approved. He nodded approval to his neighbour. He was 
 thinking how it would be compatible with his other little 
 engagements he would make up his mind before the play was 
 over. 
 
 CHAPTER THE FORTY-SECOND. 
 
 A MEETING. 
 
 QECOND act. The mournful tutor was leaning his forehead 
 on his hand and trying to read. For six francs a day he had 
 to come and give a lesson to the simple girl whom he loved. 
 She has loved her tutor, because, as she told her friend, Made- 
 moiselle Laroux, "he was the first man I had ever seen, just as 
 I was eprise of my first doll." In truth, she had. a leaning to 
 the exquisite, who was so pleasant with his Paris talk. Financier 
 again, tutor, marquise, school-girl, all in a check pattern of 
 talk ; but no serious work. 
 
 At that moment there was a rustle and noise of moving 
 
A Meeting. 11$ 
 
 diairs close beside the English lady and gentleman, with the 
 sound of a box-door closing like the click of a trigger. Three 
 seats had been vacant the whole night, guarded jealously. 
 These were now at last to be filled. Then there came boldly 
 down to the front, where she stayed a moment drawn up to her 
 full height for the house to admire, a tall figure, brilliant, flash- 
 ing under the lights with every motion. A few beings of the 
 parterre, not engaged in tumult, instantly turned their backs to 
 the stage and levelled their glasses with effrontery. With her 
 also came a square-built young man, with vellum cheeks and 
 thoughtful meditative eyes, and a second gentleman. But they 
 were in cold colours dull sketches in greys and neutral tints, 
 beside her. They sat down together. She continued to draw 
 all eyes. It was that bright radiant look which seemed to 
 reflect back the radiance. Her rich black hair flashed back the 
 light from a hundred ripples. It hung over her white forehead, 
 and was gathered away to the right and left like the heavy folds 
 of a curtain. Her face was oval, her eyebrows marked and 
 arched, her eyes liquid and dark, and though brilliant, were not 
 sharp nor piercing, and, above all, her face seemed to be lit up 
 from within. But among the folds and draperies of her hair (and 
 this the opera-glass musketeers in the parterre noted specially) 
 was a rich scarlet geranium placed with excellent effect, and, 
 carelessly dropping from her shoulders, was an Eastern black 
 and gold opera-cloak. She might be a Jewess or a Spaniard. 
 
 The English girl was absorbed in the tutor and his woes. She 
 had never seen anything so delightful. Fermor, with a curl of 
 depreciation on his lip, seen under the black opera-glass, was 
 slowly travelling round the house. 
 
 " I never saw such an exhibition," said he, not taking the 
 glass from his eyes; "but we must stay it out, for I suspect 
 there will be " He stopped suddenly, for the two muzzles 
 of his glass were resting on the new faces just come in. The 
 glass dropped on his knees. Then he gave a half-start; half 
 rose, and sank again into his chair. 
 
 His eyes were fixed on the apparition of the bright lady and 
 her two companions. A few " amateurs " in the parterre were 
 looking also; but the whole house was absorbed in the play. 
 The girl beside Fermor, with tearful earnest eyes, and the round 
 chin resting on her hand, was wrapped up in the young tutor. 
 There was such agony, such suffering in his face that 
 
 Suddenly she heard her husband whisper hoarsely 
 
 " W^ must go away now. Come ! quick!" 
 
226 Neve* Forgotten. 
 
 She came back to practical life. 
 
 "Go away!" she said, in blank astonishment. 
 Oh no, no ! Just at this point, too !" 
 
 "1 am sick of it," said he, rising. " I have a headache. 1 
 suppose you will not ask me to stay if I am ill?" 
 
 She rose in a second, and gathered up her cloak and 
 " materiel." She looked back wistfully at the noble young 
 tutor, whose face showed actual wri things of moral suffering- 
 his sense of the degradation of his position was so very acute. 
 As she turned to go, her cloak caught in a chair and overturned 
 it. A flash of faces was turned to them, and a subdued 
 ' ( ts s " was heard. 
 
 " There ! they will all see us !" said Fermor, with something 
 like ferocity, " and you knew I wanted to get out without 
 noise !" 
 
 He caught her arm roughly, and hurried her away. 
 
 She was frightened. "What is the matter, Charles ?" she 
 said again. 
 
 "Nothing, nothing," he said, shortly. "I did not say any- 
 thing was. Please don't tease me, and let us get home in quiet. ' 
 
 He hurried her along the great passages. They got to the 
 top of the flight of stairs. 
 
 "Take my arm ! " he said. 
 
 But there, at the same point, they were met by another party 
 going away. It was the brilliant lady and her companions, who 
 could not have heard a sentence of the new play, and were 
 literally going away almost as soon as they had come. A strange 
 proceeding. 
 
 Though in sore trouble, the girl was struck by the brightness 
 of the Spanish-looking face and the flashing of her beauty, 
 which she had now seen for the first time. " Oh look, look, 
 Charles !" she was whispering, hurriedly ; when, to her amaze- 
 ment, the lady came to meet them. 
 
 " Captain Fermor," said the stranger, and in her voice there 
 was a sustained chanting sound almost melancholy, "what a 
 meeting ! This is strange, and curious ! And at a theatre, of 
 all places in the world !" 
 
 Fermor was not yet composed enough to answer steadily. 
 His lips were trembling. He forced a kind of smile. 
 
 " Not forgotten me, surely?" said the lady. ' ' You remem- 
 ber when we last met, or when we were to have met ?" 
 
 " Yes," said Fermor, faintly. 
 
 "And this/' sh|* said, " is Mrs, Fermor? I was sure of it, 
 
A Meeting. b$J 
 
 even at a distance. I \vas one of your husband's old acquaint- 
 ances. One of the crowd whom he has paid visits to, and 
 taken down to supper, but whose name he has forgotten by 
 next morning." 
 
 Fermor was now collected enough to speak as Fermor was 
 accustomed to speak. 
 
 "We are 'going home ," he said 5 "a stupid play, that has 
 given me a headache.'* 
 
 "How long do you remain in this place?" said the Spanish 
 lady, abruptly, addressing Mrs. Fermor. 
 
 The latter, who had been looking at the strange lady quite 
 fascinated, answered hastily, " Oh we are to stay a month, I 
 believe." 
 
 Fermor struck in hurriedly, " No, no. We leave to-morrow $ 
 we are obliged to return. Got a letter to-day." 
 
 " Stay a month ? Leave to-morrow ? " said the Spanish lady, 
 with a smile. " Your plans are scarcely decided. You recol- 
 lect my brother?" she added. "This is Mr. Romaine, his 
 friend." 
 
 " I am afraid," said Fermor, " we must go away now. 
 We " 
 
 "Where are you staying?" 
 
 "At the Grand Hotel," said the English girl, who was 
 addressed. 
 
 "Oh, then we shall see you there. Ours is Number no. 
 We have hardly chosen our rooms yet. But we shall see each 
 other very often, and renew an old acquaintance. Indeed, we 
 shall come and see you to-morrow," said the Spanish-looking 
 lady, gaily. " Louis and I. You will be at home at twelve ?" 
 
 "Yes, yes," said Fermor, hastily. "Delighted. To-morrow, 
 at twelve." 
 
 " Good night, then," said the Spanish-looking lady. " I am 
 so glad to have met you again. This is life, you see, all over, 
 parting in a ball-room meeting at a theatre. Now, Mr. 
 Romaine, be bitter on that text." 
 
 Mr Rcmaine whose face had a handsome gauntness, and 
 whose black eyes, and whose black moustache hanging like curls 
 over his mouth, had an odd attraction for Mrs. Fermor said 
 something in a low voice to his friend. 
 
 "Ah, exactly," said the Spanish lady. "To-morrow, then, at 
 twelve. Good night." 
 
 In the dark carnage, where Fermor's face could not be seen, 
 the wife began to talk and wondert 
 
228 Never Forgotten. 
 
 " And you have forgotten her name ? " she said suddenly* 
 " Are you certain ? How wonderful ! I should have remem- 
 bered that splendid face till my dying day. I shall long to see 
 her again." 
 
 "Yes/' said he, catching at what she had suggested 5 "it is 
 not odd. I shall recollect it later, I suppose." 
 
 " It is so strange," she said 5 " if I had seen a man with such 
 a face, I should never have forgotten his name." 
 
 Fermor, moody and gloomy, said impatiently, "I dare say no 
 doubt. Don't ask me why this, and why that, and wonder at 
 me for this and that. I have a headache, and the racket of this 
 place is enough to give one a hundred headaches." 
 
 She was full of concern in a moment. 
 
 " How thoughtless and stupid I am 1 " she said. " Why did 
 you not tell me ? 5> 
 
 At their hotel the green and gold official came rushing, and 
 opened the door, as if it were a matter of life and death they 
 should be extricated at once. The great stairs flashed out white 
 and spacious. The sleepless Bureaux, where the lights blazed, 
 were busy with their entries and erasures of arrivals and depar- 
 tures day and night long : of what were, in fact, the Births and 
 Deaths to the Grand Hotel and its monster family. 
 
 At the top of the stairs Fermor stopped short suddenly. 
 " What a place! " he said. "I am sick of their noise and flurry. 
 One can't get a minute's quiet here. Look there ! What 
 did I say ? " as another carriage clattered in. " We must 
 leave early in the morning, and go to some Christian 
 place." 
 
 Deeply concerned for the pain which he must be suffering, she 
 answered, eagerly, "Yes, Charles. Anywhere. Or what would 
 you say could we not go now? " 
 
 It was hardly nine o'clock. 
 
 "A very good idea," he said with real pleasure. "You could 
 put your things together, and send for the boxes in the morning. 
 You are a clever child, and a ready child too." 
 
 Greatly elated by this unusual commendation, she tripped 
 away. He went down to the Bureaux, where they were so 
 busy with the Births and Deaths. This was to be a Death, for 
 he was going to ask for his bill. As he came out suddenly, a 
 lady and gentleman, who had descended from the carriage, 
 stopped him. 
 
 "Home again," she said, "and we just as soon as you." 
 
 Fermor began to bite his moustache. 
 
A Meeting* 229 
 
 In a moment a waiter came to him with a strip of paper, and 
 asked would monsieur have a carriage ? 
 
 "So you are going away?" said the Spanish lady. "Only 
 think, Louis ! At this hour, too. Surely not. Recollect, you 
 were to have seen us to-morrow. You made an appointment." 
 
 Fermor crushed up the paper. " We had to alter our arrange- 
 ments," he said. " We are obliged to go. We have very little 
 time. So " 
 
 " No, no," said the Spanish lady, smiling, and shaking her 
 head. "This is a little fourberie some of the old, old phan- 
 toms. Don't you recollect when we lived at Eastport, and when 
 we were all so happy together ? I dare say you have told her 
 all about the time. No, you can't go to-night. Where is Mrs. 
 Fermor? I shall easily persuade her. Send up for her." 
 
 Fermor looked at the lady doubtfully and irresolutely, still 
 crumpling the paper. 
 
 "No, no," she said, with encouragement. "To-morrow 
 morning is more rational. More like a calm, sensible English- 
 man. Above all, when we meet an old friend, whom we have 
 not seen for so long, and whom a mere chance has helped us 
 to meet. Do oblige me in this. Let us sit down here awhile in 
 Paradise, in the Arabian Nights ! There are a hundred things 
 I want to ask you a hundred things you will want to hear from 
 me. It will be old times returned over again." 
 
 There was something almost fascinating in her face and voice. 
 Fermor, bewildered, confused, above all, surprised at the strange 
 change in her at the lightness and airiness of her manner (for 
 she seemed a new Pauline) made no resistance, but passed out 
 with her into the bright colonnade where the thousand-and-one 
 tables are clustered, and the clink of glass and china furnishes 
 music. 
 
 Five minutes later came tripping down the young Mrs. 
 Fermor. She was ready, and her little packing all done. But 
 her husband was gone. A little confused from the sense of this 
 desertion, she went in to the Bureau. 
 
 Numero 60. Yes. Monsieur had been furnished with the 
 bill. A little fit of curiosity came over her at that moment, and 
 she thought she would refresh her husband's memory about the 
 lady at the theatre pleasantly surprising him with superior 
 information. Who were in Numero no ? 
 
 A few pages turned over with complaisance, and the young 
 lady registrar answered 
 
 " Numero 1 10 et in, Monsieur et Mdlle. Manuel/' 
 
230 Never Forgotten. 
 
 The young girl started. At the same moment an obliging 
 young boy-waiter came to tell her that " Mr. the Captain " was 
 outside in the cafe, sitting with a lady. 
 
 CHAPTER THE FORTY-THIRD. 
 
 THE COLONNADE OF THE GRAND HOTEL. 
 
 TINDER that colonnade, and in the cool air, with carriage- 
 lights twinkling past, and seen through the leaves of the 
 trees, as though in a garden with airy waiters flitting by, the 
 English lady and gentleman sat at coffee. It was the best 
 scenery in the world for confidence. 
 
 Every moment he was more and more amazed at the change 
 in her 
 
 She was a new Pauline, older, yet " finer," more dazzling 
 more splendid, more womanly; more decided, too, in manner 
 firmer, and more distinct in her voice. She was leaning over 
 the little marble table, looking at him earnestly as she talked. 
 
 "Two years is a long time," she said, sadly; "I seem to have 
 lived a quarter of a century. A thousand events have been 
 crowded into that time, Spain, France, England Spain again. 
 We have been always travelling. It," she added, in a low voice, 
 "it was the only thing. Rest seemed like death." 
 
 Fermor dropped his eyes. "And Spain," he said, absently; 
 (f why Spain again ? 
 
 "Ah," she said, "our poor mother, you know. It was her 
 country, and it was natural that she should like to see it before 
 she died. Old people someway think of these things. We had 
 money, thank God. Her cousin left her everything. But she 
 did not enjoy it long. Poor mamma." 
 
 "Good God!" said Fermor, in some distress. "Is she 
 
 too ? I did not hear I did not, indeed. I have heard 
 
 nothing. I was so faraway, or I should have written." 
 
 Pauline laughed, a laugh faintly harsh, which was one of the 
 changes he had noted in her. 
 
 et Written ! " she said. " Why so ? There was no reason in the 
 world for that. We wanted no consolation from any one. You 
 saw very little of her. I can fancy, too, in India, with precious 
 
The Colonnade of the Grand Hotel. 231 
 
 time taken up every moment of it. I have often heard what 
 strain is put there on men of capacity.** 
 
 Fermor looked at her a little uneasily 5 but the large eyes 
 seemed to be fixed on him with perfect honesty. 
 
 "Yes/' he said, *' they did work us there. But I am so 
 grieved to hear this. And when ? " 
 
 "O, long ago! A few months after you had left. She was 
 half a Spaniard, and very sensitive and delicate; and our poor 
 Violet's death took hold of her mind a good deal, and, at 
 last, unsettled it a little. You might have remarked how she 
 doted on her more, I believe, a great deal, than on me." 
 
 There was a silence for some moments. Then Fermor said, 
 in a low voice 
 
 "And she Violet poor Violet I am glad you have men- 
 tioned it I have often, 1 assure you, thought of it, and of that 
 night, and what my conduct must have appeared. And I was 
 nearly maddened when I heard it. But you know," he added, 
 eagerly j "what could I do ? I don't like speaking of it, it is so 
 distressing a business, and has ended so unfortunately 5 but do 
 make allowance put yourself in my position.' 1 
 
 ** Surely, surely,'' said Pauline, hurriedly. " There is no need to 
 take that view of it. After all, it is different with me, you know. 
 Sisters will be sisters, and I," she added, more quickly, "had an 
 affection for her that was almost extravagant. But that is all 
 my concern, you see. I must keep my own sufferings for myself. 
 She was a child, too soft and tender for life. Had she been a 
 girl," added Pauline earnestly, " she would have lived." 
 
 She seemed to laugh, and Fermor saw a film gathering over 
 her eyes. She brushed it away hastily. " Is not all this 
 absurd ? " she said. " And so long as two years ago ! " 
 
 Fermor was all softened. The picture of poor Violet came 
 oack on him with a pang o f self-reproach yet pleasing self- 
 reproach. 
 
 "1 know, I know,'* he said again, eagerly, "what you, what she, 
 must have thought. That wretched business, I confess, had an 
 odious look. I want to clear myself to you. But, if you had 
 been behind the scenes, and seen what pressure " 
 
 " Of course," said she. "Quite so. A mere ordinary affair. 
 I suppose five thousand things of the same sort go on every year 
 in England. Foolish girls take fancies, and men, not so foolish, 
 are naturally flattered and so it goes on for a time. Then it is 
 discovered that the whole is impracticable and will never de. 
 Intellect must have something more to lean on than mere love 
 
a32 Never Forgotten. 
 
 and worship. And so the whole vanishes in a pretty cloud of 
 romance." 
 
 "Exactly," said Fermor, eagerly. "You understand, I see. 1 * 
 
 "Your friends/' said she, with eyes fixed on him, "naturally 
 wished to see you advance in the world. You had brilliant 
 prospects, abilities, good interest, and it was a pity to sacrifice 
 them." 
 
 " Quite so," said Fermor again. "You quite understand 'it. 
 It was a youthful attachment, but you know it would have 
 ruined me. It was better for loth in the end."' 
 
 "Exactly," she said 5 "much better for both. You say it 
 was the only sensible course, after all. Of course you are right. 
 Only a man of firmness and resolution could see it in that light. 
 One of your weak youths would have plunged headforemost 
 with her into ruin, and let the future take care of itself." 
 
 " I considered," said Fermor, growing quite eager in his 
 exculpation, " that I was bound to look to her as well as to 
 myself. Far more, indeed. / know human nature pretty well. 
 I have, in fact, made it a practical study. I knew there would 
 be some suffering at first j but that pain would be far better 
 than ten times that suffering later. I assure you I had a prin- 
 ciple in it all." 
 
 Pauline's face was growing intensely earnest and vindictive as 
 she listened. When he looked up, the expression changed sud- 
 denly. Her eyes were fixed on him with a greater and greater 
 earnestness. But he did not see how her lips were compressed. 
 "Yes?" she said, with an interrogative anxiety. "Go on." 
 
 " We can't be always wise. As you say, fehe next best thing 
 after a mistake is to see that it is a mistake. / saw it the very 
 next day." 
 
 " You did?" she asked, with a sudden energy that would have 
 startled another -, then added, hastily : " To be sure. Sensible 
 always. We are only women, after all." 
 
 "Poor child!" he went on. "Another would have been 
 blunt, and spoken at once. I thought it better to trust to time 
 and chance, those two great contrivers." 
 
 Again her eyes were fixed on him with a strange and almost 
 deadly expression. " You did?" she said. " That was the plan, 
 was it ? I see. And it succeeded." 
 
 He looked up in a little surprise. 
 
 " Poor, poor Violet. !" she suddenly broke out. "Poor, sweet, 
 wretched darling ! To be handed over to chance and time, 
 those two great contrivers ! What a life ! Why could we not 
 
The Colonnade of the Grand Hotel. 233 
 
 have saved her, poor, lost darling? Time and chance !" and 
 she gave one of the strange laughs. " That was the secret, was 
 it? But we should have had a stronger and less delicate subject 
 to practise on. Oh, Violet! Violet !" 
 
 Her face dropped upon the little marble table, and Fermor 
 heard her hysterical sobs as she stayed in this position for many 
 minutes. He was greatly distressed, almost shocked at the 
 violence of this grief, and tried to soothe her. In a few 
 moments she raised her face and wiped her eyes. "This is very 
 foolish," she said. " We women should train ourselves. But 
 it does me good to think and talk of all this; it brings relief. 
 It has quite comforted me, meeting you. We must have many 
 a talk on this matter in London and here. But you go to- 
 morrow. Of course you have your duties, and cannot waste 
 time on a poor lonely sister like me." 
 
 She looked at him with a sort of shy fascination, and her 
 voice was very musical and melancholy. "Twelve o'clock!" 
 she said, rising suddenly -, " how time has flown ! " 
 
 " Good gracious!" he said, for the first time thinking of Mrs. 
 Fermor. " So late ! Yes, I shall see you again. We are not 
 bound to a day. But I am so glad you have taken a calm, 
 sensible view of this affair, as, indeed, I anticipated you would." 
 
 "Ah, yes! Let us go in now," she said. They went into 
 the great court. It was almost, deserted. But the sleepless 
 Bureaux were still at work. At the bottom of the great stair 
 she said " Good night." 
 
 She followed him with heY eyes as he ascended slowly : when 
 he reached the top, he looked down and saw her figure in a 
 wonderful attitude of grace. He thought again of the curious 
 changes that had taken place in her. " What a crisis," he said, 
 as he looked down, " to pass through ! How would a less skil- 
 ful man have done ?" 
 
 At that distance he could not see her face, nor the features in 
 her face. But the eyes were flashing. And he could not hear 
 the hard voice that came from the lips 
 
 "It was, then, his own work - } and he is satisfied ! That was 
 my only doubt. Before God, then, I shall not spare him !" 
 
 Once more, at the door of the lobby, he looked down, 
 and saw her hand raised towards him. Complacently, he 
 thought it was a salutation, and he waved his own to her. 
 Then went his way along the galleries. There was a smile on 
 his face as he passed along: it was softened to a gentle feeling 
 of romance very pleasurable. He thought he had got through 
 
234 Never Forgotten. 
 
 that very well cleverly, rather. She was a lady, and had taken 
 a good common-sense view. " My life," he thought, " has 
 been a strange one. It might be written in a book. And 
 which of us can tell what is coming on either?" 
 
 He found the young wife up, waiting. She had been writ- 
 ing writing home to her father. He required one letter every 
 day, without fail. 
 
 "I was having some coffee out on the Boulevards," said 
 Fermor. " So sorry to have kept you; met a friend." 
 
 There was a curious look on the young wife s face, a colder 
 one than he had ever seen. 
 
 "Tell me about it,' she said, calmly. "An old friend, or 
 a new one ? Had he anything to tell?" 
 
 Fermor walked to the window impatiently. " Nothing that 
 you would care to hear," he said. " By the way, we need not 
 be hurrying away in the morning. There is no necessity for 
 such a precipitate departure. It would look absurd. We should 
 be having the police after us ! " He said this as though she had 
 been proposing and pressing it. 
 
 " Just as you please," she said. 
 
 Her passiveness mystified him. But no more was said on the 
 matter. 
 
 On the next day, about two o'clock, Captain Fermor fixed a 
 flower in his button-hole, chose out a new pair of gloves, put 
 some perfume on his handkerchief, and sent up to Numero no, 
 to know if Mademoiselle Manuel was at home. " I have not 
 talked to a clever woman I don't know when," he said; "I 
 must tell her the whole story about poor Violet from the very 
 beginning." He had, in fact, prepared a dramatic little narra- 
 tive, in which he himself was painted as an object of great 
 interest. 
 
 The boy-waiter came with word that Mr. and Miss Manuel 
 had left for London by the early train that morning. 
 
 CHAPTER THE FORTY-FOURTH. 
 
 THE HOUSE IN ALFKED-PLACE. 
 
 TN time, over an interval of two months. In space, from 
 -*- Paris to London. From the Grand Hotel to a bright cozy 
 compact house one of a clean series in Alfred-place, stand- 
 
The House in Alfred-place. 23 j 
 
 ing together like a row of Sunday-school children. Neigh- 
 bours hardly knew who lived there, but the number was down 
 in the note-books, and in the minds of many skilful men ; was 
 familiar at the Great Literary Club, and the name of Pauline 
 Manuel lifted many faces from the Times or Globe. Among 
 these was the face of, say, a herculean humorist who growled 
 sourly at a hollow world over good claret; the faces of leading 
 witty men who brought their jokes and quips to dinners, like 
 conjurors bringing their apparatus to a child's party, and who, 
 like the conjurors, would not be received without their 
 apparatus; of leading clergymen, hard thoughtful men, who 
 dug and trenched in the heavy soil of reviews ; of younger and 
 more unclerical men, who did the ornamental gardening of 
 magazines ; of a placid Italian barytone, gentleman in every- 
 thing save birth ; of a bishop or two ; of a doctor or two ; of a 
 lawyer or two j or a member of Parliament or two. These, 
 with the faces of their wives, were Pauline Manuel's constitu- 
 ency a miniature world in itself. In that small house in 
 Alfred-place was a small round table that held eight or ten ; it 
 was lighted by white Dresden candelabra, and the light fell 
 usually on a witty face, a clerical-reviewing face, a singing, a 
 barristerial, a senatorial, or an editorial face. They were 
 delightful little meals complete choice in all points. 
 
 How she drifted into such circles, or rather how they came float- 
 ing and drifting about her, was through the mere general attraction 
 which a bright, flashing, dazzling face, a face that people looked 
 long after in the street, always exercises. Lord Putnenham, 
 who had but one standard of beauty, said she was "like Grisi 
 in her best days." To the house in Alfred-place came fossil 
 old noblemen, like Lord Gilliflower, about as infirm as old 
 furniture ; tall, florid, general officers, as fond of the warm rays 
 of beauty as of sitting in the sun; lively wives of lively men; in 
 short, a delightful miscellany. At Alfred-place were the most 
 delightful of morning calls, where new music was heard, and 
 new painting worked at; of afternoon visits, where tea was 
 drunk, and talk mixed with the tea, like cream, and where the 
 little dinner was spread; from Alfred-place went the pleasant 
 party to opera or play, and to Alfred-place came home the 
 pleasant party from opera or play to the little supper on the 
 round table. All liked her. Older acquaintances were eager 
 to know her better; others outside were struggling and canvass- 
 ing to be admitted. It was noted how eager she was to extend 
 her list. She wished to know everybody. 
 
236 Never Forgotten. 
 
 " You only care for new faces," said Mr. Fobley of the 
 Guards ; " never saw anything like it. Half a dozen in the day 
 ~-like new gloves." 
 
 Pauline, who had for many minutes been eagerly searching a 
 gay crowd, turned on him a gay smile. " I do," she said 5 " I 
 like variety. The man from Covent-garden changes these 
 flowers for me every second day. Mr. Griesbach," she said to 
 that reviewer of Gibbon, Pitt, the War of the Succession, and 
 of other heavy men and subjects, " being at a window and see- 
 ing the people go by all day long, that is the true notion of 
 life ! Don't you think so ?" 
 
 When a new soldier came home from the Caroo Islands, or a 
 new sailor from the Main, she always said to some of her staff, 
 " Bring him to me." Travellers of any degree she relished, 
 making them sit down beside her. The young soldier would 
 think fatuously of his own charms, the seaman would glow with 
 his pinkest blushes. 
 
 "Oh," she would say, "I have known so many who have 
 gone out there. It must be delightful. I envy you all." 
 
 "We were up at Yalalabad, you know," the fatuous youth 
 would say. " I and Filmer and old Jekyl. We used to dine 
 with the Commissioner, an old Scotchman, with a daughter, 
 and " 
 
 "Did you ever meet with Sir Hopkins Pocock out there?" 
 
 " Who ? Never heard of him who's he ? " 
 
 "Oh, nothing," said she. "An old friend I only thought 
 you might have " 
 
 From that instant the youth and he was but a type of many 
 more who suffered under the same process found the soft 
 warm water growing suddenly colder, until he had to leap ou 
 and fly in confusion. So with an agreeable traveller, newly 
 returned and writing a book " Six months with the Queen of 
 Bushra " Bushra was not far, that is to say, less than six hun- 
 dred miles, from Sir Hopkins's government. Oh yes, he had 
 made an excursion as he came home governor civil enough 
 wanted him (the traveller) to dine with him, but he didn't. 
 Saw nothing saw nobody heard nothing, and heard of no- 
 body. But the Queen of Bushra gave him a bracelet of teeth, 
 which she had gathered with her own hands. Then the water 
 giew icy cold with startling suddenness. 
 
 So with the tourist, the author of the lively journal " From 
 Spa to Spa." "You meet all sorts of people at those wicked 
 places, Mr. Duncan Davis/' she would say, with a smile, "and 
 
Tiie House in Alfred-place. 237 
 
 touch them off so cleverly. I sat up till one last night reading 
 the book you sent me. I have friends that go every year, and 
 can tell me nothing. By the way, did you ever fall in with a 
 Mr. Carter and his family ? " - 
 
 " Carter, Carter!" said Mr. Duncan Davis, searching the old 
 closet he called his memory. "Yes, to be sure, at Nauheim. 
 There was a Carter there." 
 
 Pauline's face grew very eager. "You did?" she said. " Tell 
 me about him you quite interest me." 
 
 "To be sure," said Duncan Davis. "I knew him intimately. 
 He was the chaplain, and had the English chapel, and daughters, 
 and " 
 
 But some one had turned the cruel cock, and the wate^ again 
 grew icy cold. Duncan Davis was never allowed to tell more 
 of the Nauheim chaplain. 
 
 Such had been Pauline's life, and Pauline's curious purpose of 
 general inquiry had been noted by a few gentlemen as a phase 
 of fascinating oddity. The wives of the gentlemen strongly 
 intellectual in their way, and whose voices rang out at dinner 
 sharp and clear as their lords' were pleasant on this fancy, and 
 hinted at the supposed matrimonial end of all society. 
 
 " With so large a net, my dear," said Mrs. Winslow Jones, 
 v she will have a salmon one of these mornings." This draw- 
 ing in of her net was delightful to all assistants, for the fisher- 
 woman's voice was so gay and so fascinating. Her talk was a sort 
 of moderated burlesque a softened comic exaggeration a dress- 
 ing up of light flying topics in quaint, sober, solemn language. 
 Then her deep limpid eye flashed, the bells began to ring, and 
 the music to play. But when the lights were down, and the 
 social theatre closed for the night, the deep eyes grew dull, the 
 clouds began to gather, and an old look of weary restlessness, 
 which seemed the reflection, as in a glass, of a heavier and a yet 
 wearier restlessness, now more than two years old, came and 
 settled on her face. These two looks were familiar and 
 habitual with Pauline, during this year or two. The first the 
 world saw: the second, only that gloomy brother, now grown 
 yet more gloomy. 
 
 In a mean street that hung like a torn bit of ribbon from 
 the skirt of Belgrave-square and in a rather mean house (but 
 which was let, as birds'-nests are sold in China, for its weight in 
 silver), Lady Laura Fermor and her band had thrown up fresh 
 works. Flushed w r ith recent success, she had seen the truth 
 that all things naturally tend to the centre and to the metro- 
 
238 Never Por gotten. 
 
 polls ^ and she was now operating from a sort of "pah" In 
 town. 
 
 Again, at pleasant chambers in St. James's- square, the special 
 morning paper whose function it is to calculate the right ascen- 
 sion of the fashionable heavenly bodies, announced that Sir 
 Hopkins Pocock had recently arrived. The Eastern dependency 
 had not been so skilfully manipulated as the Waipiti. With 
 those intractable savages he had won glory ; more civilised 
 beings he had badly mismanaged. He was recalled a little 
 abruptly. His staff and dependents fell with him ; and Sir 
 Hopkins Pocock, C.B., returned to England, his health having 
 broken down sadly, as we all well knew. 
 
 In Clarges-street, too, idlers, and neighbours who were idlers, 
 had noticed men, like shipwrights on a ship's side, busy burnish- 
 ing and scouring a model house from top to bottom ; and at 
 whose door a little later, great wains were seen disgorging fur- 
 niture from their dark jaws, like whales on wheels. The more 
 curious saw, four days later, that there was a tall, grim, stir? 
 gentleman, whose name was Carlay, in possession, and who was 
 expecting home his married daughter and her husband, who 
 were to live with him. 
 
 These are little strands which are to make up the cord. The 
 weaving was now to begin. 
 
 CHAPTER THE FORTY-FIFTH. 
 
 A VISIT. 
 
 TOURING these days there was often sitting in Pauline's 
 drawing-room, and almost at Pauline's feet, the chair was 
 so very low, the gauntly handsome Mr. Romaine who had been 
 of her party at the French play. He was one of the travellers 
 whom she had sent for, and who had been contemptuously 
 turned away with the rest, when it was found that there was no 
 profit in him ; but he had declined to accept that furlough. It 
 suited him to stay. His cheeks were well tanned, even to a hard 
 red : his cheek-bones were high and glossy; there was much of 
 his neck seen ; he had shiny eyes in deep ambuscade, and a 
 glossy overhanging moustache. Yet he was tall, manly, gaunt, 
 alive, and, when he choose, soft as a woman He was one of 
 
A Vmt. 439 
 
 those men who put up a dozen guns for luggage, and go and 
 range among the poor wild beasts, who no doubt wonder what 
 manner of wild beasts these are that come to their forests to 
 scatter fire and smoke, and the sharp report, and the smashing 
 stroke, and the cruel agony. He had gone among odd tribes 
 blacks, and greys, and red-coloured and received the freedom 
 of their wigwams, and had been offered wives in profusion, and 
 had written very agreeable narratives of his adventure of 
 Ulalumai, or the Tawny River. The Great Circulator took 
 five hundred copies. 
 
 He was not married, and never would marry ; but liked to 
 scoff and gird at women with politeness ; sitting at their feet 
 (on low chairs) and telling of his rough sports a sort of Othello 
 in outline. To hear these matters they did indeed seriously 
 incline. There had been a lady whom he called Virginia 
 Grammont, whom he loved to entertain in this fashion, on 
 whose low chair he sat, whom he taught, scolded, carped at, 
 complimented, sneered at, but regarded in some sort as his own 
 special property. At the hour of four every second day, he took 
 her as regularly as he would his cigar, or dinner. She was a 
 sort of book more a pamphlet he would have said for him. 
 He required her. She, of course, was of the gay young con- 
 dottieri who scour the ball-rooms. Here making war for "an 
 idea " does not obtain, and could not obtain. For, speaking 
 metaphorically, how are horses and forage, and caparisons and 
 accoutrements, and subsistence, to be found on such terms ? 
 Therefore, suddenly one day she became Mrs. Massinger. Mr. 
 Romaine was thrust with a shock from the low chair. 
 
 He was in a fury. He raged as if some personal injury had 
 been done to him. He would have liked to have gone out with 
 a rifle and shot Massinger like a panther. But Mr. and Mrs. 
 Massinger were away, going to spend the winter at Rome. He 
 now discovered that he loved this girl. The gaunt face glowed 
 with colour; the man who had seen savage women until he 
 had began to think the whole sex mere cattle, was in sore 
 distress. 
 
 He had begun to know Pauline about this time. She 
 laughed openly at his troubles; fanciful, she called them. He 
 did not much care how she received them ; all he wanted was 
 some one to make company while he talked, and sometimes 
 "crooned*' over himself, and more often sprang from the low 
 chair, and tramped heavily up and down with long strides on 
 her carpet. She bore with him patiently, and often without 
 
240 Never Forgotten. 
 
 speaking, sometimes throwing on fuel, as it were a log of wood, 
 quietly. 
 
 "This is all your own pride, which has been touched,' 1 she 
 would say. On this he would stop his striding, pulling himself 
 up, as if he were a strong horse, and would begin champing his 
 bit impatiently, and pawing the carpet, fixing on her a strange 
 half fierce look from his bright eyes. Then he launched into 
 harangues, half invective and half expostulation. This was one 
 pattern of many such scenes. It fell in with his daily life, and 
 about every second or third afternoon a huge rough poncho of 
 his was lying on the hall table, and the heavy hollow beat of 
 his stride was heard on the floor overhead. 
 
 The house in Alfred-place had a balcony, which was a per- 
 fect garden. From the top of the street was seen what looked 
 like a flower-bed in the air luxuriant greenery, hanging and 
 clustering, with large bright patch of rich red, so that strangers 
 and passers-by often turned down the street to get a nearer 
 view. A yet brighter patch of colour attracted them when the 
 face of the mistress was seen bent down over her flowers. Not 
 that she fancied gardening, but as she once said in her odd way 
 to Lord Putnenham, who had protested that his gardener should 
 send up a box of rare cuttings and roots from Putnenham, "She 
 liked flowers, because they were sure to die." 
 
 Thus was she, one evening about four o'clock, bent down 
 over the balcony, pulling away a living leaf as often as a dead 
 one. The little street was deserted, never at any time having 
 much traffic. Two figures had walked past the top two girls, 
 as they seemed who were caught by the bright flash in the 
 balcony, and came down slowly to see better. As they came 
 under, they looked up with women's delight in flowers, and 
 Miss Manuel, who did not care to look at any faces, could not 
 help seeing the upturned ones through the green leaves. 
 
 In a second she had flown back into her room, and rang the 
 bell. "Ask that lady to come in," she said to her servant. 
 "Bring her in; and if she refuses, call me." The servant 
 bowed, and Pauline, shooting a glance round the room, said 
 aloud, "Ah ! they are come at last, and it is full time to begin." 
 
 It was a lady and her maid that were admiring the flowers. 
 The servant did his office so gravely, discreetly, and impressively, 
 that the lady hovered timorously on the steps. There was a 
 mesmeric influence of cold respect about his sad sphinx eyes 
 which seemed to draw the young Mrs. Fermor inside the open 
 door. 
 
A Visit. 241 
 
 " I am afraid/' she said, "That is really I don't know the 
 lady " 
 
 " I think she knows you. She is waiting, ma'am, for you in 
 the drawing-room/' said the menial of the stony eyes; and then 
 there came a melodious voice from the stairs, and the figure of 
 Pauline glided towards her. She brought her in, and the cold- 
 eyed closed the door as though he had been a jailor. From this 
 afternoon it all. began. 
 
 Young Mrs. Fermor, overcome, and timorous, made as 
 though she would go away again. " You remember that night 
 at the play?" said Pauline, leading her prisoner into the draw- 
 ing-room, as though it had been a strong-room. " Of course 
 you forget my face. I do not forget yours. The moment I saw 
 you in the box I had a sort of instinct who it was. You must 
 know me, and I want you to like me." 
 
 The young girl recollected that theatre very well, and when 
 she was looking up admiring the flowers, also recollected the 
 face she had seen through the leaves. Soft and gentle as she 
 was, and not likely to be flurried into speechless confusion, as 
 hapless Violet would have been, she looked at Pauline, and 
 said 
 
 " After a time I shall try and know you very well indeed. I 
 have only seen you once, recollect, and that for a moment." 
 
 Pauline smiled. "You have seen more of the world than I 
 have. I wish / had that wise caution. Sit down, won't yon, 
 and let us talk? Or, first, let me apologise," added Pauline, 
 dropping her eyes humbly, " for violently carrying you into 
 the house. You have a hundred things to do, 1 am sure ; 
 and now that I have seen you and spoken to you " 
 
 A hundred feelings were working in Mrs. Fermor's mind. 
 She recollected the night at the Grand Hotel, and she had 
 accepted her husband's forgetfulness of the lady as though it 
 were truth. But this had not passed out of her mind; it had 
 only been packed up carefully and put by. That little com- 
 pliment about knowing the world better than the grand, 
 flashing creature before her, had some little sweetness there 
 was curiosity to know more, to discover more ; and so she did 
 not rise to go away. 
 
 "We ought to know each other well," said Pauline, after a 
 pause, " after all that has happened. It is so curious, our sitting 
 this way together, we two of all people in the world. There 
 are some pray forgive me who could not bear to look at 
 you." 
 
242 Never Forgotten. 
 
 Mrs. Fermor smiled. She was thinking that winners should 
 be gracious always, and could afford to bear much. 
 
 "I don't know what to say," she said 5 "these things will 
 Some about." 
 
 " Of course," said the other, " of course. Well, you are tired 
 of our story and our woes. He has told you of it over and ovef 
 again every minute detail until you are sick of the whole 
 business. He has described everything to you over and over 
 again." 
 
 The girl coloured. " No, indeed," she said ; Ci I had no 
 curiosity. I never asked him." 
 
 "Never told you!" said Pauline. "I should have thought it 
 had been the one subject of his mind. It should have been 
 burnt into his brain. I should fancy its haunting him like a 
 nightmare. You would fancy so too ! Naturally so, only that 
 the subject would not be so welcome to a young wife. You 
 Lave fitted up your skeleton-closet already, my dear child. No 
 matter; it does as well as other furniture. You are very happy, 
 of course while that poor darling you will say at least hers, 
 my sister's, was a very cruel fate." 
 
 "Why," said young Mrs. Fermor, "is she not happy ?" 
 
 Pauline looked at her. " So do you take the trouble of 
 acting with me ?" 
 
 "I protest," said the other, warmly, "1 know nothing and 
 have heard nothing. Was not her marriage happy ?" 
 
 Pauline started, gave a half cry. "Marriage! What mar- 
 riage? Ah, she was to have been married. Ah! now I see. 
 They have not told you anything. He thought it was better 
 not as it was only one of the old, old pathetic romantic stories." 
 
 Mrs. Fermor was troubled j she looked wondering and timor- 
 ous at Pauline. 
 
 "Why, she died," the latter went on, speaking fast, "poor 
 sweet child ! foolishly, I think. Some would have lived on 
 through everything j she was only a child, and the idea of being 
 deserted wore her out of life." 
 
 "Deserted!" said the other, starting up. "Oh no! no! 
 Why, I was told " 
 
 "Oh, of course," said Pauline, standing up also, her cheeks 
 glowing; " these were too ugly ideas to be introduced to a 
 young bride ! Ah ! and yet it was a cruel, cruel story ! " 
 
 Young Mrs. Fermor, shocked and wounded, could only say, 
 " I never heard, indeed I did not. Oh, this is dreadful; the 
 poor, poor child ! I am so grieved." 
 
Mr. Romaine. 243 
 
 Pauline looked at her half scornfully. 
 
 " That should be all over now, and time should have healed 
 what's the phrase ? Yes, Mrs. Fermor, death had to be called 
 in to make a place for you. In some of the long nights, get 
 Captain Fermor to tell you all the details. By and by, you will 
 discover other secrets which he has not yet told you. But all in 
 good time." 
 
 Mrs. Fermor was all confused, almost overwhelmed by this 
 news, and looked at her helplessly. Just then the door opened 
 sharply, and a heavy figure swung in. It was the Mr. Romaine, 
 who was so handsomely gaunt. 
 
 CHAPTER THE FORTY-SIXTH. 
 
 MR. ROMAINE. 
 
 TIS tread became heavy, as he saw there was some one else 
 present. He flung himself with open ill humour on to a 
 seat, casting a look of impatience at the lady in shawl and 
 bonnet, who was so perversely in the way. 
 
 "This is Mrs. Fermor; don't you remember, Mr. Romaine ? 
 You were introduced before ; for shame ! " 
 
 Romaine looked at her angrily ; pushed the low chair back. 
 
 " I want to recollect as little as I can, as you know," he said, 
 bluntly j " I am sick of remembering." 
 
 "You have been in France " said Pauline. "Yet no 
 
 Frenchman would have made such a speech." 
 
 " Frenchman !" he said, with contempt. "I mean no offence 
 to your visitor, and if any one is offended, I am sure I am ready 
 to apologise. But I say still, thank God I am not a Frenchman. 
 Better the lowest English boor before that ! " 
 
 He thus artfully escaped a special acquaintance with the 
 visitor, keeping her under the general category of "a lady." 
 Young Mrs. Fermor not yet recovered from the strange things 
 she had been hearing; and this wonder mixed itself with yet 
 another wonder at this strange person, also with a little pique at 
 his rudeness said, softly, " I am not the least offended. I must 
 say a word, though, for our low English boors ; I have always 
 found them polite." 
 
 She said this very naturally, and perhaps meant nothing 
 
244 Never Forgotten. 
 
 special, after all. Pauline smiled. Romaine looked at Mrs. 
 Fermor fixedly for a moment. 
 
 He said nothing, but got up and began to pace. " I hear, 
 after all," he said, "they will not go to Rome. That fellow 
 has listened to reason at last." 
 
 "To the doctors ? " said Pauline. 
 
 "To reason, I said!" he replied, stopping suddenly before 
 them, laughing grimly. " Poor Virginia's chest is made of 
 gauze -j a Roman winter for her God help her, when it all 
 begins so wisely as that, how will it go on ? " 
 
 " O, very well," said Pauline, calmly ; "he will make a very 
 good serviceable creature ; kind and thoughtful, better than a 
 hundred of your showy theatrical men, who wish marriage to 
 be all Husband, and Lord, and a Hairdresser's Rust." 
 
 Young Mrs. Fermor sighed deeply, and even loudly. Pauline's 
 eyes floated round significantly to Mr. Romame's eyes. That 
 sigh saved ten minutes' explanation afterwards. Then Mrs. 
 Fermor rose to go. She bowed with a timidity not unacceptable 
 to him, who returned it with a gracious ungraciousness. Pauline 
 went out with her. 
 
 " You must excuse him," she said ; "he is in an odd state at 
 present, and we have all to humour him. A girl he liked has 
 just married, and he is suffering, poor soul. Shall we see each 
 other soon ? I want you to like me. I do indeed. I live in 
 the solitude of the world. I have no one to care for me since 
 my poor darling was taken from me. You know it was hard, 
 since she was not to go with him, that she could not have stayed 
 with us. Won't you try to like me ? " 
 
 Mrs. Fermor saw her eyes glistening. She was conqueror, 
 and could be generous. Pressing her hand, she said, "Indeed 
 I will." 
 
 Coming back to her drawing-room, Pauline found the steady 
 pacing going on. 
 
 "You seem to have a good deal to say at the door there," he 
 said. " Is the lobby to become the drawing-room ? " 
 
 Pauline laughed. " How intolersuit ! " she said; "intolerant 
 even of a simple girl like that." 
 
 "Simple, indeed," he said, still pacing. "Who is she, 
 pray?" 
 
 " I should tell you nothing," said Pauline; "you had a field 
 for yourself, and one of these Frenchmen you despise so would 
 have shone. However, you confounded her, I think I suppose 
 she had not seen so wild a being in her life." 
 
Mr. Romaine 243 
 
 " Folly ! " he said roughly. " Simple enough, though. Who 
 is she ? " 
 
 " A married girl. This is her third moon." 
 
 " I remember the husband now a stick, and a conceited 
 stick." 
 
 "She is a half school-girl," said Pauline, "full of wonder 
 and admiration for anything wonderful or admirable. One of 
 the true worshipping souls the rarest kind of that sort of virtu." 
 
 He stopped pacing. " I have given up collecting," he said. 
 
 "The marriage, 1 suspect," continued Pauline, opening and 
 shutting a fan, "will not be the happiest. He is fine and vain. 
 
 His head is turned with conquests. There was a poor girl 
 
 No matter." 
 
 There was scorn in Mr. Romaine's face. He was intolerant. 
 "I knew he was a stick, 5 ' he said, "and I took his measure for 
 a prig at the first glance. 5 ' 
 
 "There," said Pauline, laughing, "make her one of your 
 vestals. She is actually made to worship. Don't you see de- 
 votion in her eye, poor soft child ? There are many weary 
 moments in the day, you know, hard to fill up." 
 
 Thus Miss Manuel and Mr. Romaine talked until the lamp 
 was brought in. Then the Bishop of Leighton Buzzard came 
 in, bringing with him his finely-turned ebony legs ; and, after 
 the bishop, the pleasant Reviewer ; and, after him, the general 
 company. A crowd of faces many false, many indifferent ; 
 but by-and-by appeared among them one true one that of 
 Young Brett. 
 
 An officer-child or an officer-boy in that company would have 
 been wholly irrelevant. He would have fallen upon evil days, 
 and have been stoned that is to say, politely jeered out of the 
 place. But Pauline honoured and even loved that faithful young 
 soldier. " No one must touch my terrier," she said. For him 
 there was always a happy smile. She was glad when she saw 
 his figure. His ready service his faithful devotion in the old 
 cruel days, now happily far off, were not to be forgotten. Indeed, 
 his true and simple devotion had been made manifest in a hun- 
 dred kind and useful ways; and, so long as he had stayed at East- 
 port, he had watched tenderly over that quiet marble slab which 
 rested over poor Violet. When the regiment moved, which it 
 did in about a year, Pauline returning home, discovered that he 
 had privately salaried an assistant in a nursery-garden to look 
 after the weeds, and such little gardening as would be wanting. 
 
 But- in that mixed company, bis own merits soon exempted 
 
246 Never Forgotten. 
 
 him from any protection. This day he came anl was welcomed 
 by Pauline, who had not seen him for a fortnight. He sat down 
 eagerly beside her. "Do you remember your wondering," he 
 said, " what had become of that man at Eastport that Major 
 Carter? " 
 
 Pauline's eyes flashed. 
 
 " Yes yes/' she said, hastily j <{ and have you heard anything 
 of him ? " 
 
 "1 saw him to-day," said Young Brett. "I never liked him, 
 but I went up and spoke to him, and I found out all about him." 
 
 "Yes," said Pauline, with great interest 5 "go on. You are 
 the most useful friend J have." 
 
 "Nonsense," said he, colouring under this praise 5 "you will 
 spoil me. He has been abroad. Some little town in France. 
 He is in mourning, and has lost his wife ; in great grief, I 
 suppose." 
 
 "Lost his wife ! And is he going back to France ? '' said 
 Pauline, eagerly. 
 
 "Dear no ! " he said; "has just taken a house 5 he told me 
 his address ; asked about you." 
 
 " He did? " said Pauline, with compressed lips. 
 
 " O yes," said Young Brett; "and soon after we parted at 
 the corner of Pall-Mali. I was going to the club, and he went 
 to the Insurance Company the Irrefragable, I think." 
 
 "Insurance Company ! " said Pauline ; "why, what for ? " 
 
 "I don't know,' 5 said Young Brett, in a little distress at not 
 having made this out; "but I could ask, you know find 
 out " 
 
 "No, no," said Pauline ; "it is nothing. Thanks. You 
 are always good to me, and useful. Now, hand the bishop his 
 tea." 
 
 And to the bishop, whose turned ebony limbs lay over each 
 other like two miniature gymnastic clubs reposing in a corner, 
 he hurried over, eagerly bearing a cup of tea. 
 
 CHAPTER THE FORTY-SEVENTH. 
 
 THE HOUSE IN CLARGES-STREET. 
 
 CAPTAIN FERMOR, having now done with the army, and 
 
 rather failed in his Indian profession, had been washed 
 
 ashore on the great London strand. How interminable that 
 
The House in Clarges- street. 247 
 
 strand is for such waifs ; how barren, how miserable, for all 
 such new waifs and strays, has been over and over again proved. 
 Fermor, a young man, and, as men go, not by any means a dull 
 man, met with a few stray inhabitants on this lonely coast, 
 running down from their huts ; that is to say, from a club or 
 two : but in London practically he had only a few acquaint- 
 ances, and scarcely any friends. 
 
 He had come home with Sir Hopkins, had passed up through 
 the south of France, and had made that dramatic morning call 
 just as he had promised. He had heard of Violet's death, and 
 had indeed been much affected, but that was long, long before, 
 He was not well off: he stopped with this family rather longer 
 than a mere morning call required, and, before very long, the 
 marriage was settled on, and it was known that " Fermor had 
 picked up an heiress," and also "an old father." There was 
 some truth in the last odd expression, for Mr. Carlay gave his 
 daughter fifty thousand pounds, after this fashion : It was con- 
 veyed to trustees for "her use for life," and afterwards to 
 Fermor absolutely. 
 
 " I cannot live without my daughter," he said, half piteously. 
 *' You might cut me off water, or bread, or meat, or even air. 
 I have lived with her always j I cannot part with her now in 
 my old age. I will make it up to you. You shall see I shall. 
 / know how young married people do. If it was settled on her, 
 you would soon come to think me in the way, and I should 
 have to go. Now I shall have a stake in the house. No, no. 
 I will do everything; you shall see." 
 
 Fermor smiled at this foolish eagerness. It was an excep- 
 tional arrangement certainly, but after all he was a quiet old 
 man clay in a fashionable potter's hand and the consideration 
 was abundant. - Thus the house was furnished and made splen- 
 did, and thus a little room at the top of the first, flight, leading 
 to the drawing-room, where there was a greenhouse, a study, 
 and a bedroom, became Mr. Carlay's home, where he read 
 French and Spanish books. It rolled on very smoothly for 
 some weeks. Then Fermor began to weary a little. 
 
 Fermor alone, and Fermor doubled, were two different things 
 in fashionable life. He had hung a millstone of disability about 
 his own neck. Young Mrs. Fermor could not show her pass- 
 ports, or her papers were not " in rule." A pleasant wandering 
 man was always welcome: he filled in gaps in the ranks. But 
 when it was given out that he had married "some low crea- 
 ture/ 1 and the knowing him entailed knowing the low creature, 
 
248 Never Forgotten. 
 
 it was peiceised that the game was not altogether worth the 
 candle. And thus it was that in crowded London he began to 
 find himself in a sort of elegant desert. 
 
 This he did not at all relish. He loved the old incense, the 
 incense which in private drawing-rooms ladies were accustomed 
 to swing before him from little feminine censers. There were 
 none now to swing ; rather, the censers were busy before other 
 images. He resented all this bitterly, just as a reduced gentle- 
 man resents the loss of luxuries, and came home of evenings to 
 domestic joys, very moody and silent. 
 
 He thought very often of the hapless Yiolet. It seemed to 
 him a very pretty romance, and it became sweet to him to dwell 
 on it. The whole was a soft picture to look back to, and he 
 felt deeply and sorrowfully, as he thought of her sad end. It 
 was a sort of pet flower-garden, into which he retired at times 
 to walk. And he thought very, very often of the splendid 
 flashing sister, and their dramatic night outside the cafe, and of 
 '"the curiously strange impression" he seemed to make upon 
 her. He felt a sort of restless wish to meet her again, and 
 know more of those soft details which almost fell into the shape 
 of a dream. He made many inquiries, but could not find her 
 out. He had no clue. He asked those who might have known, 
 but without success. 
 
 Suddenly one evening, on the steps of his club, he met Young 
 Brett, whom he had not seen since an Eastport day, ever so 
 long ago, and the day of an Eastport little party. But those 
 times were now rolled up and huddled away in a corner like 
 old canvas scenery. 
 
 Young Brett coloured up, gave him a blunt nod, and was 
 passing on. Fermor stopped him. He was quick, enough to 
 see this feeling, and was amused ; Brett was only a child. 
 
 " I am so glad, Brett," said Fermor, putting his arm in the 
 boy's. " Come back in here, I want to talk to you." 
 
 The other stood irresolute. 
 
 "I have to go " he said at length. "The fact is, Fer- 
 mor " 
 
 Fermor was, luckily, in a good humour that evening. " The 
 fact is," he said, "you are not so glad to see an old friend as 
 you ought to be. Come. I am going your way,, whatever way 
 it is. There." 
 
 Young Brett was no match for handling of this sort. "Now," 
 said Fermor, after they had walked a few moments, " what is 
 the matter ? What has been, done to you ? Have I not always 
 
The House in Clarges-street. 249 
 
 tried to be kind to you done everything I could in my small 
 way ? ' * 
 
 " Oh yes, yes," said Young Brett, a little ashamed ; " but 
 but Oh, Fermor, how could you do that? it was dreadful. 
 Such misery, such ruin ! If indeed it had been to me, how glad 
 I should have been ! But that poor sweet innocent girl. It 
 killed her, Fermor, it did indeed, as much as if you had poisoned 
 her or stabbed her." 
 
 Fermor was silent a moment. Something like shame 
 was in his cheeks. Yet there was something in this honest 
 young creature he could not be angry with. " Brett," he said, 
 in a low voice, "you have been hearing these stories. I was 
 very sorry. I could not help it. How was I to know ? Even 
 her sister, who is the best judge, whom I saw in Paris the other 
 day, she does not believe that idle history." 
 
 " Pauline!" said Young Brett, starting; "you met her?" 
 
 "To be sure," said Fermor, confidently. "Ask her about it 
 if you like we had coffee together on the Boulevards. Is she 
 at Eastport still ?" 
 
 Young Brett relieved infinitely, and even delighted to find 
 that his friend was in some sort a true man (for so he now found 
 him, from his faith in anything Miss Manuel did) became 
 eagerly communicative and told all that he knew, and left 
 Fermor with Miss Manuel's address in Alfred-place, and many 
 other particulars. 
 
 Fermor came home pleased with himself, and very gay. The 
 nuptial stage moon was still shining, and the new husband and 
 new wife wore their theatrical dresses and properties for each 
 other's sake. But on this day young -Mrs. Fermor had come 
 home sadly troubled and distressed. She had two griefs : a deep 
 and intricate deception practised on herself, and the image of a 
 poor soft girl who had withered away unto death. 
 
 She had now got a little corner or closet of romance into which 
 she retired, and found pleasure in painting up a dreadful picture 
 of desertion, and miserable blight. Not but that this brought 
 with it a sense of conquest for herself; but there was also 
 present a dread sense of disquiet. For already had the glorious 
 sun in whose light she basked sent forth some cold chilling rays, 
 which made her shrink away in a sort of alarm. 
 
 By another week she being now left a good deal alone, with 
 a vague curiosity to know more of the bright Miss Manuel, 
 and that curious story in which her husband had played such a 
 part Fermor came to her about noon, and asked would she 
 
2jo Never Forgotten. 
 
 go for him into the City, and do some small commission ? He 
 had West-end business of his own to attend to. For, though 
 he had now no known profession, there was a sort of fiction 
 accepted in the house of his going out each day for business, 
 and of his coming home to dinner after business was done. 
 Would she oblige him in this? said Captain Fermor, cere- 
 moniously, for the stage moon was still shining, and the panto- 
 mime running. She was a little pleased. It fitted in very 
 nicely, and she set out that afternoon with her maid, in a cab. 
 
 She had some commission in some City shop, which was not 
 readily found, and a sort of rude Siberian cabman (with a gaunt 
 angular horse, whose legs swung like a pendulum in a slow trot) 
 had made a low grumbling protest at each fresh direction. 
 When, finally, he was bidden from the heart of the City to 
 make straight for Alfred-place, at Brompton, he began to dwell 
 with savage irony on the advantages of having " a 'os of hiron," 
 and to hint at young Mrs. Fermor' s " calling 'erself a lady/' 
 which she had not done, though perhaps considering the title 
 implied. Taking a kind of short cut, he got into a network of 
 slums and narrow streets, devoted to ancient smelling fishes, and 
 meat perhaps as old, and, to the general furnishing of a larder, 
 mostly in a state of decay. Where, too, were some old book- 
 stalls and some curiosity shops. And here, while turning a 
 corner, the pendulum limbs of the cab-horse slipped from 
 beneath him, and he was down on the stones himself as rough 
 and as angular as a heap of stones. 
 
 In an instant there was a crowd ; a crowd that came from 
 behind the ancient meats and ancient fishes, and out of dark 
 places yet farther behind, just like brigands stopping a diligence. 
 The two women inside, long since in trepidation at these strange 
 regions, were now filled with terror, especially when the 
 Siberian, instead of striving to raise his beast, came straight to 
 the window, and began to assail them publicly as the authors of 
 the misfortune. This was "wot it was come to," he said, still 
 maintaining the irony. He hoped they liked it, and " was proud 
 of their work." 
 
 " Let us out ! let us out ! Do, please/' said Mrs. Fermor, as 
 the ring of faces drew closer to listen. 
 
 The Siberian put his hands in his pockets. " You want to 
 see it, do ye? Nice ladies, eh I Now," he said, suddenly 
 growing savage, ie wot are you going to do ? Come?" 
 
 "O, this is dreadful!" said Mrs. Fermor. "Help us, do. 
 Do, please, let us out. Here is money." 
 
The House in Clares-street. 
 
 
 They had only a few shillings. At the other side, where the 
 glass was up, raw unshaved faces were pressed against it, looking 
 in. There was much merriment and great curiosity abroad as 
 to the result of this pleasant scene. 
 
 " Do you suppose," the other added, with a loud bang on the 
 door that made the whole cab clatter "do you suppose that 
 you're to go about all day a killin' 'orses on honest men, with a 
 drive here, and a drive there, and then not pay for your game ? 
 I tell you wot -- " 
 
 "We are ladies j indeed we are. Here is our address, and 
 Captain Fermor -- " 
 
 The Siberian laughed. "I want no captings, I wants my 
 money, and I wants my 'orse. And I tell you, you don't go till 
 I gets one or the other. Ain't it a shame," he added, turning 
 to the crowd, " for people as dresses as ladies, and -- " 
 
 In utter despair, young Mrs. Fermor had been looking across 
 the wild faces, and beyond the wild faces. Suddenly she saw a 
 tall gentleman a European, as it were, among the Indians 
 picking his way round the outskirts of the crowd. In an instant 
 she had called to him. " O, sir, sir! Do come here! Help 
 us ! do, please." 
 
 The tall gentleman stopped a second, listened, then shrugged 
 his shoulders, and was passing on, as if it was a mistake. 
 That stopping showed Mrs. Fermor his face the " gauntly 
 handsome " face and the trailing moustache. 
 
 " O, Mr. Romaine," she said in a lower voice. 
 
 Then slowly Mr. Romaine swung his way through them. 
 The crowd was knocked aside heavily, as though his elbows had 
 been the corners of massive furniture. He was at the window 
 in a moment, confronting the Siberian, on whom he looked 
 down a head taller. 
 
 Young Mrs. Fermor, in some confusion, was beginning her 
 story, when he stopped her. "Afterwards, if you like," he 
 said. (Cab, cabman, and horse, in fact, narrated the whole 
 thing much more shortly.) "Now you had better get out." 
 He took hold of the handle of the door. 
 
 "Come, now. I say -- " said the Siberian. 
 
 Mr. Romaine let it go at once. "Well, open it yourself," said 
 he. " It will save my gloves. And look sharp." 
 
 The other was a little staggered. "And who's to pay for 
 the 'os and the damage ? This won't do, I say,'' he said, coming 
 in front of the door. 
 
 " Stand back, please," said Mr. Romaine, gently, at the same 
 
2^2 Never Forgotten. 
 
 time calmly pressing his iron elbow on him. It was like the 
 corner of a chest of drawers. " There thank you ! That will 
 do. You should keep these handles a little freer. Take care," 
 he said, in a low warning voice, to him. " You will get into 
 mischief by interfering with me. Stand away ! I once killed 
 an Indian with a blow of this fist. I did ; upon my word. 
 There's my card: I have got yours. 1 shall recollect the number* 
 Here, my friend " (to a smart ostler-looking man), "get this 
 horse on his legs again. He is only shaken. There " (and he 
 put something into the ostler's hands). "And you help too " 
 (to a parcels boy, whose hand he also visited). "Here" (to 
 the Siberian), " go to the next public with that. Wine makes 
 the heart of man glad or gin. Now, take my arm. I know 
 a short cut out of this place." He led her away without further 
 protest or obstruction. He was indeed a hero a quiet, calm, 
 grand hero. With so slight an exertion of power, what might 
 he not accomplish if the occasion required ? Women always 
 overflow with gratitude to preservers of this sort even to those 
 who have saved them from a driver. Civilised Europe was only 
 a street away after all. Better still, here was a stand of cabs. 
 Then Mrs. Fermor recovered herself, and began to discourse 
 incoherent gratitude. 
 
 "Good gracious !" said he, "it is nothing. I heard a lady 
 calling from a cab-window, and I came. Do what we will, we 
 can't make a romance out of it. Now, here is a cab. I sup- 
 pose I can do no more for you now ?" 
 
 "Oh, thank you! 5 ' said Mrs. Fermor, still overflowing 
 with gratitude. "I don't know what to say, I am sure; 
 how to thank you for such a service, knowing you so little, 
 too." 
 
 "As for that," said he, " I may, without rudeness, relieve 
 your mind. If it had been a washerwoman in her cart, whom 
 I had never seen in my life, I should have done the same. It is 
 really nothing," he said, smiling. "You make too much of it. 
 Here is a cab. Could you spare me now ? I really have an 
 appointment." 
 
 " Oh, I am sure," said young Mrs. Fermor, "if we could 
 leave you anywhere, I am sure " 
 
 "I assure you I like to walk, unless," he added, smiling a 
 little contemptuously, " you still think yourself in danger. I 
 assure you this driver looks moral and respectable. Don't be 
 afraid." 
 
 A little mortified, she got in, and she saw Mr. Romaine hurry 
 
The House in Clarges-street. 2^3 
 
 away, apparently glad to be free. The maid pronounced him 
 " a short " gentleman that is, as regards manner. 
 
 Fermor was a long time out, and came home late with the 
 drum hoisted, as it were. She was not skilled in reading those 
 meteorological signals, and flew at him eagerly with a full narra- 
 tive of her adventures. It was such an escape such a rescue 
 and such a rescuer. But Fermor was chafing. He had called 
 twice at a House, and had not been admitted, though he had 
 seen a bishop's carriage drive up, and finely turned ebony limbs 
 go down its steps, and up other steps into the House. It was 
 an insult, and not a mistake. 
 
 Mrs. Fermor's eyes were sparkling as she dwelt on the del ails 
 of her story. "And would you believe it, Charles, he no more 
 seemed to mind what he had done, than if he had walked across 
 this room." 
 
 "Well, I take it all for granted," said her husband, getting 
 up suddenly. " And I have heard it three times over now. A 
 cab horse fell down, and a gentleman called another cab f<< 
 you." 
 
 Young Mrs. Fermor coloured. 
 
 A cold fog or Scotch mist had covered up the stage moon. 
 Now she saw the drum hoisted and, wounded, withdrew her 
 little narrative. 
 
 " Can he be getting tired of me already," she thought, a little 
 bitterly. '* How cold and cruel he can be!" She had a dismal 
 evening before her. The personal worship, the little censers 
 that swung delicate little compliments, and the pretty sweet- 
 smelling vapours of Roger le Garyon, had been tumbled away 
 into a corner. They were tarnished j they were old plate now. 
 
 A note was brought in. She took it, wondering who was to 
 write her notes. She turned to the signature, and found it 
 signed "Pauline Manuel." As Pauline's face flashed and glit- 
 tered, so there was something of the same light in these written 
 words, something in the invitation they gave. She had been 
 expecting her, she said. She wished to see her so much, to 
 talk over a hundred matters. "I am alone," said Pauline, "and 
 have a hundred other things I want to keep out of my thoughts. 
 You owe me a debt you should be generous. Your husband 
 kindly called twice to-day, but half by mistake, half out of inten- 
 tion, was not admitted. I can know you, even like you but 
 him not so much ; at least, not for a long time. You will 
 understand this. Come to me to-morrow." 
 
 Colour flushed her cheeks. " So this is what he is busy with, 1 * 
 
Never Forgotten. 
 
 
 she said ; "carrying on a plot, a mystery. Ob, I am very miser- 
 able, very unhappy!" 
 
 Fermor came in precisely at this unlucky moment. He saw 
 her tell-tale cheeks. He was intolerant, and did not relish any 
 one being out of humour but himself. "What," he said, "not 
 blown over yet ? Is it possible that you are displeased because 
 I did not enter into your cab adventure ? Good gracious ! Come> 
 now, you really must not be so unreasonable." There was an 
 air of sarcastic good humour in his tone, which was a little dis- 
 agreeable. 
 
 Young Mrs. Fermor looked at him tremblingly. Her round 
 red lips were quivering. She was thinking of all her "wrongs" 
 accumulating since the Paris night. But she answered calmly : 
 " You might reduce every action to that shape, if we looked at 
 it in that sort of light." 
 
 Fermor did not like being argued with, so he said, sharply, 
 " And let me tell you, my dear child, now that you are come to 
 live in London, that this making a nine days' wonder out of 
 every cab you take, and of every man you pick up out of 
 the street, will lead you into all sorts of embarrassments. Seri- 
 ously, we should get rid of our little Eastport simplicity, my 
 dear." 
 
 Her lips shaped themselves into deep reproach. " How cold, 
 how unkind you are ! " they seemed to say. Fermor heard these 
 words as much as if they had been spoken. "Well, you can go 
 to your father," he said, " and tell him about the cab. I have 
 business now letters. I have been worried all day. The story 
 will amuse him." 
 
 Youn.g Mrs. Fermor, with her round soft cheeks full of colour, 
 Was sensitive, and a little quick of temper. The soft cheeks 
 were glowing and flaming. " I did not expect this from you," 
 she said, quickly. "If papa knew this -- " 
 
 Now indeed the colour came to Fermor's cheeks. " Don't 
 say that," he answered, with a trembling voice 5 "never speak 
 in that way to me, if you wish us to live quietly together. I 
 shall not be intimidated by his name. No, I am not come to 
 that; no," continued he, walking up and down, "though people 
 may say I have sold myself ' into genteel slavery.' " 
 
 Now was the fitting time for opening the hysterical flood-gates. 
 Down burst the torrent of tears, carrying with it, like stones, 
 ejaculations of cruelty and unkindness. "Ah! I might have 
 expected this," she said. " I was warned in time. And when 
 she, poor thing, was treated in that way -- " 
 
At a Brougham Window. 4 jj 
 
 " She ! Who ? " said Fermor, stopping short in his walk, and 
 turning pale. 
 
 "/know it," said young Mrs. Fermor. "I know it all. It 
 was kept very secret j but I have heard it all. Perhaps it will 
 be my fate one of these days. God help me ! It was not 
 suitable that I should know it. I was kept in the dark, it seems 
 un until until the slavery yes, the slavery was accom- 
 plished. Yes, I know the whole, though you had reasons for not 
 telling me what the poor girl, now in her grave, who, I was 
 told, was married and happy " 
 
 " Never, never ! " said Fermor, eagerly. " I did not indeed 
 I could not tell such a falsehood. You said so." And indeed, 
 to do him justice, he had never said so. " But this is amiable of 
 you! How kind, how generous ! Pray do not let us have an) 
 vulgar matrimonial quarrels not as yet, at least," he added, 
 with a forced smile. He tried thus to sweep away the subject 
 into a corner. But, unhappily to use the odious language of 
 the ring here was first blood. Very soon the pantomime, with 
 its stage moon, would be withdrawn. The "run " was nearly 
 over. It was of course patched up j both shrank a little from 
 this "vulgar quarrelling." They had not yet learned to cast down 
 the idols, or, at least, to be careless about casting them down. 
 
 CHAPTER THE FORTY-EIGHTH. 
 
 AT A BROUGHAM WINDOW. 
 
 Irrefragable Insurance Company, Limited, had a new 
 home in the West-end, a very narrow strip of front, that 
 looked like the "console " of a mahogany sideboard, or like tbe 
 edge of a thin slice of bride-cake. The small patch of ground 
 upon which it stood would not have furnished room by way of 
 burial for many of the "Lives" the office insured ; yet, if it 
 had been floored with golden sovereigns instead of encaustic 
 tiles, it would not have represented all it cost. It was doing a 
 thriving business, chiefly from an unquestioned readiness in ac- 
 cepting anything that came loosely under the designation of a 
 Life (even though the value lay rather in the direction of a 
 Death), and from a profession, not quite so unquestioned, of 
 paying all claims with a readiness that was almost "soft." 
 
2j6 Never Forgotten. 
 
 In these days a brougham drove up to the door of the Irre- 
 fragable a brougham, no doubt, containing a Life. The Life 
 was a Lady Life. It came in, and the mahogany doors swung 
 to behind it as it were the lid of a box, shutting down firmly 
 on the Life. The Lady Life was a flashing Life, bright, dazzling, 
 and handsomely dressed. The faces of many clerks converged 
 to her with admiration. Mr. Speedy, manager and actuary, 
 imprisoned all day in a little compartment that looked like a 
 mahogany match-box, looked out over the edge. Mr, Speedy, 
 who did showy calculations, and furnished the instructive stories 
 out of The Books of the Company, beginning pleasantly, "A 
 has insured in the year 1837 f r one hundred pounds," recon- 
 noitred the lady narrowly, for about every Life that entered he 
 did a little exercise to keep his mental hand in. " I know," 
 said. Mr. Speedy to himself 5 *' handsome young wife, old husband, 
 with Life utterly uninsurable. That won't do here, madam." 
 He listened, as Pauline's soft clear voice travelled to him readily. 
 She wished to insure her own Life, only for a trifle, say two 
 hundred pounds say in favour of her brother. Could they 
 oblige her with forms ? Mr. Speedy, over the edge of the 
 match-box, had seen the dark brougham the spectre of the 
 uninsurable octogenarian husband had happily faded out. Here 
 was a case for extended connexion. He came down softly out 
 of his box with forms, and took the case out of the hands of the 
 inferiors. 
 
 " You will find everything here," he said, collecting quite a 
 little library of fat almanacks, coloured pictures of the 
 "branches" at Montreal, Dublin, &c. "We offer very advan- 
 tageous ferms. We ask no disagreeable questions, and give as 
 little trouble as we can. I am sure you would not repent coming 
 to us. In fact, if you were satisfied, and would kindly mention 
 us to any of your friends " 
 
 "I certainly shall," said Pauline. " In fact, I have come to 
 you chiefly because a gentleman that I used to know, has been 
 with you Major Carter." 
 
 Mr. Speedy's brow contracted. " Ah ! A claim that is ! The 
 most unfortunate transaction we have had yet. Seven thousand 
 pounds, and only two years' premium paid ! We were advised 
 to resist ; but, as we are a young institution, we thought it better 
 to avoid the scandal," said Mr. Speedy, smiling. "It was the 
 fault of our medical adviser who accepted the lady's Life too 
 hastily." 
 
 " Mrs. Carter," said Pauline 5 " so I heard." 
 
At a Brougham Window. 257 
 
 "Yes/' said Mr. Speedy. "But we are prepared cheerfully 
 to make any sacrifice any sacrifice to keep up the irrefragable 
 character of our corporation. As we have dealt with Major 
 Carter openly, fairly, and honourably, so, if you honour us, 
 madam " 
 
 " You will pay my heirs," said Pauline^ smiling, " as readily 
 as you did Major Carter?" 
 
 " The board has not paid yet," said Mr. Speedy. " By the 
 terms of our charter, we can keep the policy money nine months. 
 But what is that, after all? Fairness and honeaty before everything." 
 
 Pauline took away her pictures and thick almanacks into her 
 brougham. Mr. Speedy retired into his box, but looked out long 
 over its edge after the bright and fashionable lady who had 
 visited him. He told Mrs. Speedy at dinner of the interview he 
 had had with a very " high person, indeed, at the office, and 
 he hinted that by his tact and management he had secured that 
 " interest" for the office. He did not know, however, that the 
 "high " lady had thrown herself back in her brougham with a 
 weary air, and had flung down his papers with a sort of disgust. 
 "How I loathe how I detest myself," she said, "for these 
 meannesses ! I am ashamed to hold up my head. But what 
 can I do? Women have no other strength. Trickery and 
 cunning and meanness this must serve us in the room of brute 
 force. Is my life to become an organised hypocrisy ? O Violet, 
 Violet! not for you !" 
 
 She was coming to the park. Her face became bright again. ' 
 She drew herself forward, and looked out proudly from the 
 window. A few people were waiting half way at the crossing 
 *o let a string of carriages go by. To her astonishment, she saw 
 young Mrs. Fermor and her maid among them. In an instant 
 she had the glass down, and was calling to her. 
 
 The young wife, unhappy and tossed about by her new bitter 
 troubles, had determined to forswear her society. She shrank 
 even from the name. But now, with Pauline present, it seemed 
 altogether different. She felt herself a mere child before that 
 brilliant woman of the world. There was an influence in her 
 an absorbing glance which she could not resist. Miss Manuel 
 bade her send home her maid, and get in. She must come and 
 drive with her, and see the company in the park. Mrs. Fermor 
 made a faint protest, and put forward her dress, but she was 
 powerless in those hands. There was a seduction about Pauline 
 as she nude a place for her beside herself, which, for the 
 moment, she did not wish to resist, 
 
258 Never Forgotten* 
 
 She had never yet seen this shape of Vanity Fair the preces- 
 sion of people of quality moving along like a bright Coventry 
 ribbon. Her lord, Fermor, had always dismissed it as childish, 
 and as a childish taste. Had not he seen it over and over again, 
 until he was literally sick of the business? Now it quite dazzled 
 her the noble horses, and the knights, and the ladies of the 
 knights, and the wealth that shone with a rawness and vulgarity, 
 and the nobility of birth that glowed with a rich but subdued 
 quietude. She was delighted with this wonderful show., for she 
 was a rustic. 
 
 Even the loungers who came to stare and perhaps remained 
 to talk attracted her. She asked about them about every- 
 body. Pauline was charming told her all things. " I like you 
 to ask me everything," she said, " in that natural way. I want 
 you to consult me, and in time to like me, if you can." 
 
 "Ah!" said young Mrs. Fermor, stooping forward a little 
 eagerly, and in some confusion, " is not that yes, I am sure it 
 
 " How well you know !" said Pauline, looking at her with a 
 strange quick look. " You are quite right. We shall call him 
 over. Mr. Romaine ! " 
 
 "No, no! indeed no," said Mrs. Fermor, hurriedly; "not 
 while I am with you," 
 
 " Nonsense ! " said Pauline, smiling. " I know what you 
 are thinking of. Are you afraid of him ?" 
 
 Mr. Romaine, in pale gloves, was at her window. Mrs. Fer- 
 mor saw the look of impatience on his face as she came into 
 view. " I am always to be in his way," she thought. "He will 
 be rough to me." He nodded slightly to her. 
 
 "So you come to the show," he said, "Miss Manuel. Of 
 course you do. And yet I know what you think of the whole 
 business. I am astonished you that talk so." 
 
 "Never mind that now," she said. "You see my friend 
 Mrs. Fermor here ? " 
 
 " I do," he said, looking down to beat his feet with his cane; 
 " that is, I should say I have that pleasure." 
 
 " Mr. Romaine was so kind to me the other day," said 
 Mrs. Fermor, warmly. "And I am afraid I never thanked him 
 sufficiently for " 
 
 "Oh, I declare," said he, "are we never to be out of that 
 cab ! Heaven preserve us ! do let us leave it where we left it. 
 I declare and think me candid, but not rude, please I am 
 inclined never to go to the assistance of any one in that way again/* 
 
At a Brougham Window. 4 
 
 O W.V 
 
 Pauline looked from one to the other. Mrs. Fermor showed 
 her confusion and mortification. " Because you, ' she said, 
 quickly and warmly, "are above all these forms, there is no 
 reason why we should be. I assure you it is more from respect 
 to ourselves that we say these things. I should consider myself 
 quite rustic if I passed it over. You must make allowance ; 
 you should indeed." 
 
 This was all spoken very hastily, and with a voice that 
 almost trembled. She was a little quick of temper. He looked 
 at her with really blank astonishment. Pauline clapped her 
 hands. 
 
 "Exceedingly good," she said. "There, that will do for 
 you" and she pressed Mrs. Fermor's arm under her shawl with 
 encouragement. "Charming, my dear," she whispered; "a 
 good lesson. Now, Mr. Romaine, after that, tell us news, wicked 
 news, if you have any. There 's old Lady Canonbury rolling by 
 and swinging like Mahomet's coffin. Look, dear; and she is 
 worth looking at, for that spotted and fiery face can be set off 
 with a hundred thousand pounds' worth of diamonds." 
 
 But Mrs. Fermor's face was glowing and flushing still, and 
 she was biting her plum-coloured lips with vexation, at the sharp 
 attack of which she had been the subject. These pretty little 
 emotions were as yet a sort of awkward squad, to be trained and 
 drilled into good soldiers by-and-by. 
 
 " What about Miss Loreley's match ? " cried Pauline. 
 " Come, we wait ? Begin." 
 
 " Look at her" he said, suddenly, "how angry she is! She 
 could grill me now make a pincushion of me all because I 
 won't be overloaded with thanks. How good !" His eyes were 
 fixed upon her as if she was some show or exhibition. Mrs. 
 Fermor only flushed the more. 
 
 "No, indeed," she said, " I don't care in the least. You 
 quite mistake. But I think you need not have been so excited 
 about my little thanks." 
 
 " Excited ! " he said, smiling. " Who here is excited ? / am 
 not. I only speak for myself." 
 
 " It's not about that, then," said Mrs. Fermon 
 
 " What isn't about that, then ? I protest I don't follow." 
 
 Still, really angry, she would not answer, but looked out of the 
 window. 
 
 " I will not have this," said Pauline. " You must go away; 
 you are creating a disturbance. The savage is breaking out. If* 
 you really want a battle> you may have it in my house, with 
 
260 Never Forgotten. 
 
 decency, at the usual hour. There, go," and she drew up the 
 glass and bade the coachman drive home. 
 
 "Oh," said Mrs. Fermor, suddenly, " I don't know what you 
 will think of me. I am ashamed cf myself, and of such temper." 
 
 Miss Manuel laughed. "It was capital," she said. "You 
 have done him a world of good. I, who am not in much terror 
 of him, could not have said it. Ah ! I see you are clever." 
 
 " No, indeed," said Mrs. Fermor. " Charles often tells me I 
 am a child still." 
 
 At that name Miss Manuel started a little. "Some men 
 would have us children always. Our poor Violet would have 
 been a child always. Sometimes, looking at you as I do now, 
 it reminds me of her something in the tone, something in the 
 manner. Ah, poor, poor Violet ! " 
 
 Mrs. Fermor saw the deep eyes glistening. She was quick 
 and impulsive in all emotions. . She put her hand affectionately 
 on Miss Manuel's arm. 
 
 "Indeed, I feel for you," she said, " and all about that. In- 
 deed I do. Now that I know it, it makes me miserable to think 
 of it. Though I had never seen her, I felt as if it had been for 
 my own sister. And for you, too," she added, "who loved her 
 so dearly." 
 
 Pauline drew away from her suddenly with a startled look, 
 and began to talk rapidly. " We need not talk of it now. As 
 for loving me, no one will find profit in that. Yes, I know," 
 she said j " quite a sad story. A sensation incident they would 
 call it," she added, with a smile, but a very mournful smile. 
 
 They were at Alfred-place, and had the unfailing tea. "We 
 shall have a quiet talk together," said Miss Manuel; "you on 
 that sofa, I on this. The mob won't be here for an hour to 
 come. This will be delightful. Talking of poor Romaine, there 
 is really something to be said for him now. He is scarcely an 
 accountable being. You would hardly guess that he is in a very 
 wild state of mind." 
 
 Mrs. Fermor looked curious. 
 
 " Yes," said Pauline, "I could tell you a long history about that. 
 There was a girl he fancied, and who, he tells me, fancied him. 
 As you know, that is good authority 5 but no matter. These 
 rough savages, as you can fancy, when they do love, love like a 
 hurricane like a storm. Well, she has just married a good 
 match, too." 
 
 Really interested, and not without a little compunction, Mrs. 
 Fermor waited for more. Women delight in these little dramas. 
 
At a Brougham Window. 261 
 
 "So, after all," said Miss Manuel, "we should not be very 
 hard on him. You can understand what a struggle is going on. 
 He wants to be good, and to do the right thing, and we should 
 help him if we can. He thinks the newly married pair are to 
 be away for the winter, in Rome -, but the worst is, I know that 
 tney are to be here. Their plans have been changed. So I 
 say we must help him, and be indulgent. Don't you think so ? " 
 
 At this moment, the tall figure which they were to help came 
 swinging in. "I knew we should have you presently," said 
 Miss Manuel, half scornfully. " You may sit down, however." 
 
 Mr. Romaine dropped instinctively into his low chair. "I 
 told you I was coming," he said. "When I get into the habit 
 of a thing, I must go on, even if I am not in the humour. So 
 I had to come." 
 
 "Polite always," said Miss Manuel. "Tea?" 
 
 " No," he answered, bluntly 5 " I don't care for that. Once 
 a sharp thing has been said to me," he said, fixing his eyes 
 directly on Mrs. Fermor, " it puts me out for everything." 
 
 Mrs. Fermor coloured at this allusion, which she understood 
 perfectly. 
 
 " I never meant, I am sure," said she, casting down her eyes. 
 "I thought you " 
 
 " Ha ! ha ! ha ! " laughed Mr. Romaine, as if he was in the 
 hunting-field. " There's human nature ! We apply everything 
 to ourselves. Alas ! that we should always be the first objects in 
 our own thoughts." 
 
 Another sort of colour was hurrying to Mrs. Fermor's cheeks 
 at this fresh outrage, when he added, slowly, 
 
 " Not but that, in the present case, you were right. I was 
 alluding to you." 
 
 Again, in fresh confusion, Mrs. Fermor, vexed with him, 
 with the situation, with everybody, but mostly with herself, 
 hurriedly rose to go. He lifted himself hastily. 
 
 " Going home ?" he said, " thinking me, of course, a perfect 
 savage. Well, I can't help it ; I can't change my spots. But 
 I can do this beg pardon. Forgive. I don't mean all I say 
 or do." 
 
 Mrs. Fermor looked up at him with more confidence, and a 
 smile. She was hopelessly mortified at these ups and downs, 
 but gave him her hand. Pauline came out with her, and kissed 
 her. "You are a wonderful creature," she said 5 "you amaze 
 me. I could not dare to go on in that way. I must see you 
 again soon. You have promised me, mind." 
 
$62 Never Forgotten. 
 
 As the young wife passed oat, Miss Manuel, staying on tha 
 stairs, and looking after her, dropped her hand on the banister, 
 and stamped her foot with what seemed a sudden pain. " Poor 
 innocent ! M said she, " is she beginning to like me ? How like 
 
 to " Then she turned sharply round, and walked back into 
 
 the drawing-room. 
 
 "There!" she said, half contemptuously, "you have found a 
 sensible woman at last, on whom all your fine tragedy is thrown 
 away. Now, is your mind at rest ? What can repay you for 
 the lost time?" 
 
 He began to pace the room, impatiently biting his moustache. 
 He looked at her angrily. " I see. Take care. So she defies 
 me through you? Take care. That is not to be done to me." 
 
 f( But she does all the same," said Pauline, with a laugh. 
 
 CHAPTER THE FORTY-NINTH. 
 
 A HOLLOW WORLD. 
 
 /CAPTAIN FERMOR, very restless destitute, as it were, of 
 that pleasant romance which used to be his daily food was 
 in a state of impatient hostility with the world in which he lived. 
 On this very day he had determined to go and spend a pleasant 
 tranquil afternoon with Miss Manuel, and thus work the cur- 
 rent clear. One of the old pleasant conversations a conversa- 
 tion, that is, where he talked, and brought out the fine Arabian 
 TO t yea, now, alas ! too long in stable. 
 
 That wild notion of her not denying him, which presented 
 itself to him as he walked, must have been a mistake or 
 misconception. Perhaps she felt there was some of the old 
 danger in these retired interviews, and was wary in exposing 
 herself to risk. At this notion he smiled, and patted the 
 Arabian's neck with fondness. He was smiling as he was just 
 turning into Alfred-place. He saw the balcony, and the flowers 
 in the balcony j but he suddenly saw under the balcony a lady 
 coming out on the steps. The lady wore a dress and a bonnet 
 which he thought he knew; and looking closer, he recognised 
 young Mrs. Fermor, his wife. 
 
 He was thunderstruck speechless. This, then, was it. Ah ! 
 this explained it all. Here was the interference that had closed 
 
A Hollow World. 263 
 
 the door against him. With bitterness on his lips he turned 
 away full of anger, and with a, " Upon my word, it has come to 
 a pretty pass! " 
 
 He thought first of hurrying after her and convicting her in 
 her "spy system" at once. But this seemed imprudent: he 
 could not trust himself in the street. How was he to pay his 
 visit ? He was " upset " not " in the tone " to be smiling and 
 fluent. It was always to be the way. Besides, he thought 
 bitterly, the door was effectually closed now. And he chose it 
 should be closed. 
 
 He walked away very fast, came through the Park, where 
 the gay ribbons were still winding round, and the gaudy flags of 
 fashion still flying. "All here should be my friends," he said; 
 "and my true sphere until I lost it through my own folly ! " 
 And he stood at the rail, and saw the thousand-and-one little 
 boudoirs on wheels pass him, now stopping, now going on. He 
 knew everybody by sight at least. The men perched high, 
 driving spirited horses, and the young girls in the tiny boudoirs. 
 Suddenly he started. 
 
 "I declare," he thought. "Old friends! I am so glad." 
 And he was at the window of a little chamber in a moment. 
 
 These were some "Craven people," a mother and daughters, 
 who lived in the purest fashionable air. Sojourned permanently 
 in ball-rooms, and occasionally went out to their own home. To 
 him they were always kind. He had leave to come in when he 
 pleased, and at every dinner they gave, dined, as of course. They 
 allowed him to do a hundred things for them the best proof of 
 fashionable intimacy and affection. Fermor's eyes lighted with 
 complacent delight as he drew near to the window. He was 
 thinking what a surprise for them. 
 
 At the same moment a tall gaunt man was raising his hat and 
 approaching the window. There were three smiles of welcome, 
 and three "O! Mr. Romaine"s. 
 
 Fermor, a little disordered, said : " O, Mrs. Craven ! So glad, 
 I am sure " 
 
 The three faces looked at him. One, a younger and simpler 
 face she showed no scars as yet said, softly 
 
 "Mamma, Mr. Fermor! You know " 
 
 " Ah, to be sure. How-de-do, Mr. Fermor ? So long, you 
 know " 
 
 " O, Mr. Romaine ! we have been dying to see you. Why 
 didn't you come on Tuesday? " 
 
 The elder girl, who was her mother's sergeant, said , 
 
264 Never Forgotten. 
 
 "Ah, you didn't care, Mr. Romaine. I know /never missed 
 you." 
 
 FERMOR (forcing a hearing and recognition). I am so glad, 
 Mrs. Craven. I am sure 1 have been (this spoken a little sadly) 
 all over the world since I saw yon. 
 
 MRS. CRAVEN (with no curiosity). Indeed. Oh, of course. 
 But, Mr. Romaine, I assure you, my girls 
 
 FERMOR (with an aigre ruefulness). It is so curious meeting in 
 this way 
 
 THE SERGEANT. You wont tell us, Mr. Romaine ? No ? I 
 said so to mamma. No, you won't. 
 
 MR. ROMAINE (gently pressing on Fermor to the window). I 
 leg your pardon ivoitld you be so kind ? Thanks ! (Fermor was 
 now behind, with only a glimpse of the boudoir, over a steep 
 hill formed by Mr. Romaine's back.) 
 
 YOUNGEST Miss CRAVEN (with a little pity for Fermor j but 
 her voice does not reach over the hill). Have you been quite 
 well, Mr. Fermor ? 
 
 FERMOR (glowing, raging, biting his lip, and not knowing 
 what to do). Good morning, Mrs. Craven. 
 
 Three eager smiles are shaken at him like three white hand- 
 kerchiefs, and he gets off the stage somehow. Looking back, he 
 sees Mr. Romaine bent, as he leant on the carriage window, 
 looking after him with a grim smile. If he had been near, he 
 would have heard Mrs. Craven say, in answer 
 
 " Oh, only one of the girls' friends. Now, I am told he has 
 picked up some curious creature, and thinks it is to be all the 
 same. So ludicrous, and so ignorant, and really so disagreeable 
 both for him, and for us ! " 
 
 " Quite understand," said Mr. Romaine. "There are fellows 
 who never take a hint, you know." 
 
 That was a gloomy walk home of Fermor's. " Heartless set," 
 he said. " They might have recollected all I have done for them, 
 and all the money they have cost me! I suppose they think 
 nothing more is to be got now that I have" and he laughed 
 "done for myself. They are no loss, at any rate." 
 
 Suddenly he thought of his relation, Sir Hopkins, whom he 
 knew was in Town, but .whom he had never yet found time to 
 go and see. Someway he had rather shrank a little from the 
 meeting, for he had not consulted him about this marriage. But 
 then he had been treated badly by Sir Hopkins. He was in. It 
 was close on six o'clock, and Sir Hopkins was writing. He was 
 still boring into the old diplomatic molehills still burrowing, 
 
A Hollow World. 26$ 
 
 tunnelling, indefatigably. Only now, as he grew older, the 
 molehills grew smaller and meaner, and the tunnels narrower. 
 The awful whisper had even been heard in " F. O." corridors 
 that {i Old Pocock's day" was "gone by," and the young clerks 
 used the word " fogie." With reference to his last experiment, 
 it was said plainly and firmly, " You know he broke down. 
 Lord St. Ryden insisted, and they had to give it to him. He 
 was in one of his mulish fits though they were putting 
 him off and so fixed on this. They were precious sorry for 
 it afterwards, though. Never was there such a mess as he 
 left." 
 
 When Fermor came in, he was in a molehill, tunnelling away. 
 Letters to one, letters to the other - } to lords, to no lords j to 
 official, to non-official. Was there a little pin, resting on a lever, 
 which lay on another lever, which was one of a thousand other 
 little levers, to move the great machine he sent a letter to that 
 pin. Was there a thread hanging clown among a cloud of threads 
 was there a loose wire among a million of loose wires was 
 there a fly upon the gi^at wheel he addressed dismal letters 
 to that thread, to that wire, and to that fly. He was still 
 intriguing, mi-serably, wearily, for office, as he had intrigued 
 forty years before, that is, calling letters intrigues. 
 
 He looked up as Fermor entered, and looked down. His pen 
 was in the middle of a sentence. "Sit down," he said; "excuse 
 me." He wrote on for a minute or two, then stopped. 
 
 " Glad to see you," he said, coldly. " How have you been ? 
 Now what is it? What do you want me to do? I have not 
 much interest note, you know." 
 
 " I merely came to see you, sir," said Fermor. 
 
 "Oh, that was it," said the diplomatist, beginning to write 
 again. " I have not been so well, lately. To tell you the truth," 
 he added, abruptly, "I am very busy, as you see, and " 
 
 "Oh, certainly," said Fermor, rising, with a wounded airj 
 "you need not stand on ceremony with me, sir." 
 
 Sir Hopkins looked at him a moment. " So you married, it 
 seems. I dare say you begin to find a change." 
 
 Fermor said, " How, sir? " a little doubtfully. 
 
 " Why, the life, the attention, the consideration. / know how 
 soon that comes, unless you can dazzle them with what you have 
 done." 
 
 "I don't "want to dazzle anybody," said Fermor, in some 
 confusion. 
 
 " No 5 that was pretty plain/' said the other. " No fear of 
 
266 Never Forgotten. 
 
 that. 'Pon my soul, Charles, I had hoped better things of you; 
 I had indeed. In plain words, you threw yourself away you 
 did. We would have made a man of you, if you had let us, and 
 by-and-by, when I am in again " 
 
 "Why, God bless me," said Fermor, with great warmth, 
 " did you not advise me yourself? Did you not keep saying to 
 me at Eastport, ' There was a match ? ' Surely you remember ? 
 Let us be candid." 
 
 Sir Hopkins shook his head. " I am sorry to see all this," he 
 said. " You are only a novice, after all. Why, couldn't you 
 see that was all my little foreign office business setting up one 
 girl to bring down the other? " 
 
 "And you did bring her down," said Fermor, bitterly, "with 
 a vengeance. I believe it had been better for me, after all, if I 
 had cast my lot with one who loved me, and who, I believe, 
 died for me, instead of being made the object of foreign office 
 business, as you say." This was, perhaps, the most genuine 
 speech Fermor made in his life. 
 
 "That was all a matter for your own choice," said Sir 
 Hopkins, calmly. " But, to tell you the truth, I don't quite 
 follow all this. On this occasion, I think it right to tell you 
 plainly, Charles, to prevent misconception hereafter" and Sir 
 Hopkins paused a little, and looked at him meaningly " that I 
 am not er altogether pleased. You have taken your course, 
 and disappointed me ; made what I can only call a low marriage, 
 without any connexion or rank. I don't like the transaction, 
 and I say so. When I was next in office, I should have been 
 glad but that is too late. You understand ? " 
 
 " Well," said Fermor, with a wounded defiance, " I want 
 nothing. It can't be helped. I am sorry for it." 
 
 "I don't care telling you now that it has been a disappoint- 
 ment, and a great one to me. I don't choose to be disappointed. 
 I don't mind telling you now, that I had a girl for you, ready 
 and waiting a girl out of our office. Such a connexion ! Why 
 were you so sudden about it ? It took my breath away when I 
 heard it, arid brought back that old pain under the shoulder- 
 blade. Good God ! What a fool you made of yourself ! Good- 
 by, Charles. I am fearfully busy. And I am afraid I shall be 
 very busy for the next few weeks." 
 
 Fermor came home, straight to his home, his cheeks tingling. 
 "This is what I have brought myself to," he said, with utter 
 bitterness and ruefulness. He was dreadfully mortified and 
 wounded. He beat the rails impatiently with his cane as he 
 
A Hollow World. 26; 
 
 passed by. Coming to his house, he went sadly into the drawing- 
 room, where was young Mrs. Fermor waiting. 
 
 fl Dinner must be spoiled/' she said, ringing the bell. " Three" 
 quarters of an hour! " 
 
 He flung himself on a sofa. " What does it matter?" he 
 said. " I am late for everything now. It is a wonder you 
 waited for me." 
 
 She looked at him astonished. 
 
 " Yes,'' he went on, " why should any one take the trouble ? 
 / am not worth it. Everybody can treat me as they please, it 
 would seem. Good heavens!" and he started up, "it seems 
 like a conspiracy to mortify and humiliate me." 
 
 The young wife went up close to him, full of sympathy. 
 "Dear Charles," she said, " tell me about your troubles. Indeed 
 I feel for you. What is it ? Who has hurt you ? " 
 
 " What can you do ? Such treatment ! " he went on, angrily. 
 " Mrs. Craven, Sir Hopkins, and the rest of them ! As if there 
 was some mark on me. What do you suppose my crime is ? 
 Throwing myself away, as they call it j making a low marriage 
 that's the phrase." 
 
 Deeply hurt, and with deep reproach, she said, " Oh, Charles, 
 you cannot mean this?" 
 
 "/ don't mean it," he said; "pray don't assume that: but 
 they all tell me so. The world is right, it seems. Else, why do 
 they mortify and insult me at every turn, as if I had done a 
 crime ? It is not your fault. I should, of course, be a monster 
 to say so. But no man has paid so heavily as I have done for 
 any act of his life. There's Sir Hopkins, too, has hinted plainly 
 he means to punish me, because he doesn't approve. The 
 women in the Park will hardly deign to speak to me. Is not 
 this pleasant ? Delightful sauce to flavour one's dinner with ! " 
 
 At this moment entered the stiff, grim father, who, in this 
 new shape of life, rarely seen, and emerging for meals from his 
 secluded quarter on the stairs, was as grim, as rigid, and metallic 
 as of old. The old casting was sharp and hard as ever. He 
 stood in the doorway a moment; then, without a word, turned 
 and went down. The others followed. It was a silent and 
 solemn meal. A blank had fallen on them all. Fermor cut his 
 food savagely and defiantly. At the end Mr. Carlay never sat 
 over wine, but was absorbed silently into his quarter if Fermor 
 was out, he came and read to his daughter. Now, at the end 
 of dinner, when she was gone up to a dismal meditation by the 
 fire, and Fermor was thinking of a lonely night walk, just as 
 
268 Never Forgotten. 
 
 dismal, the cast-iron figure said : " Would you wait a moment, 
 I want to speak to you." 
 
 A little surprised, the other came back. 
 
 "Take your seat again," said Mr. Carlay. " I wish to say a 
 few words to you seriously. It will quite save a good many 
 more serious words, later." 
 
 Fermor did not like this magisterial tone, and perhaps, on 
 another occasion, would have said something about this "solemn 
 preface." 
 
 "Mary is not looking well," Mr. Carlay went on. "She is 
 growing unhappy. I have remarked it for some time." He 
 paused a second or two. "Are you as kind to her as you 
 should be?" 
 
 Fermor started. "I should hope so," he answered. "Why 
 should you ask me such a question ? " 
 
 " I will tell you," said the other. " Because I begin to think 
 you are not kind. People suppose because I live out of the 
 world as it were out of the house that I see nothing, and 
 know nothing. Never was there a greater mistake, if that be 
 the impression that directs any particular course of conduct. I 
 see everything, and know everything." 
 
 Often and often had Fermor laid it down at mess, and at 
 other places where he, as it were, sat judicially, that anything 
 like lectureship from a person in the relation that Mr. Carlay 
 was to him, would be fatal. From the outset he had settled 
 that such encroachment was to be resisted at once. He thought 
 of this now. 
 
 " Whatever there is to see and know, you are welcome to," 
 he said, calmly. " Perhaps, if you did mix a little more in 
 human concerns, you would have truer views of things. I hope 
 I behave as well as most husbands do. I know my duty, what- 
 ever complaints may have been made to you," he added, with 
 some meaning. 
 
 Mr. Carlay was growing more grim, and dense, and hard, 
 every moment. His lips scarcely seemed to move as the words 
 passed from them. " Look here," he said, "I do not want to 
 interfere with you : hitherto I have not done so. If you only 
 hint it, you shall see even less of me than you have done. Those 
 rooms up-stairs and my daughter make up my world. But 
 I tell you this now and I tell it to you solemnly if I find the 
 slightest change towards HER " here he stood up and seemed 
 to grow in gaunt height into a stark prophet " if she is not 
 treated gently, tenderly, softly, even childishly if she is not 
 
A Hollow World. 269 
 
 humoured and petted, and made the queen and darling of this 
 house, as she has always been of mine, I declare there will come 
 a change over me that you cannot dream of. You don't know 
 me. You don't know what I can be, or what I have been. But 
 I warn you now in time. Touch her, and you touch me. I am 
 willing to be tranquil for this life, and go out of life peacefully, 
 ajfter all the storms I have passed through. But one other sign 
 of what I have seen this evening, and I become what I would 
 not become. You are no match for me. Come now," he said, 
 suddenly changing his tone, "you have sense and tact, and will 
 take this in good part. But, believe me, nothing was ever 
 meant so much in earnest, or will so surely come to pass." 
 
 He left Fermor speechless, and really overpowered by this 
 denunciation. The gaunt figure seemed to grow as it spoke. 
 Its eyes flashed, and there was an air of undefined menace. 
 Fermor knew not what to say or to reply, but felt his strange 
 influence, and shrank away from collision with this wild being, 
 whom he now saw in a new light. But he went forth upon the 
 night in a storm of humiliation and passion, scarcely knowing 
 what he was doing. He thought not so much of the degrading 
 intimidation which had been tried on him that night, as of the 
 unworthy complaint that must have been made by Mrs. Fermor 
 which he should register and never forgive. If the world was 
 in a conspiracy against him, he had strength enough to do battle 
 with it. But for her she who had dared to behave in that way 
 he could not bring himself to think of it. With that violent 
 and dangerous Carlay it would not do to quarrel openly, but to 
 her he could mark it in a cold, cutting, quiet way that she should 
 feel. So, when he came home that night again, there was upon 
 him a new, formal, chill sort of manner, a kind of icicle polite- 
 ness, under whose touch she seemed to wither away. She had 
 an instinct what it came from, and with timidity tried to make 
 .some excuse or extenuation, but shrank away from his cold look 
 of wonder and colder disclaimer. On this night a domestic 
 Nemesis seemed to have entered into the house, and from this 
 night it was steadily busy at its work. 
 
a^o Never forgotten. 
 
 CHAPTER THE FIFTIETH. 
 
 CONSTRUCTING A WEB. 
 
 TN a day or two Miss Manuel's brougham was standing at the 
 
 door of the "Irrefragable," and Miss Manuel herself inside, 
 reflected in the highly-polished official mahogany. 
 
 Mr. Speedy had come specially from his box with yet more 
 "irrefragable" literature, for the bright lady seemed to be an 
 eager student of the little tables, and could not have enough of 
 the imaginary A who had insured for one hundred pounds at the 
 age of twenty-one years, and who in a surprising short time had 
 come in for "bonuses," and other good things, to the amount 
 of five or six times his policy. Not without interest, too, were 
 the "fatal warnings" against improvidence. Miss Manuel still 
 could not make up her mind. 
 
 "We should be delighted at any time," said Mr. Speedy, "at 
 any time, to purchase up the policy at its full value." 
 
 "I know," said Miss Manuel, leaning on her round hand. 
 " That would be charming. If poor Mrs. Carter could have 
 done that," she added, smiling. 
 
 Mr. Speedy's brow contracted ; he only liked dwelling on the 
 bright side of the company's affairs. tf We don't accept Major 
 Carter's," he said, "as a pattern case. If we did, we might 
 close. We do not consider that he has behaved well in the 
 transaction. But our practice is to shut our eyes to a certain ex- 
 tent, and maintain the ' irrefragable ' principle." 
 
 "Where did poor Mrs. Carter die ? " said Miss Manuel. (t I 
 knew them very well." 
 
 Mr. Speedy, not at all displeased to be seen by the office on 
 terms of agreeable familiarity with a " fine woman," became 
 almost confidential and very voluble. 
 
 "At an out-of-the-way place," he said, "Bangor; and in, it 
 seems, an out-of-the-way part of Bangor. We had a scarcely 
 recognised agent there a post-mistress, I think and we never 
 dreamed of business in such a place. However, we received the 
 proposal, and the board accepted it. After the receipt of the 
 second premium we received the claim. We made inquiries, 
 but everything seemed regular. We trusted to those local doc- 
 torsa system I have always set my face against. It was, of 
 course, a damaged life at the beginning. It is very sad how 
 they do these things." 
 
 " But when I knew her," said Miss Manuel, "she was quite 
 
Constructing a Wei. i*]i 
 
 healthy, and quite strong. Oh, it must have been a very sudden 
 thing, I assure you. Poor, poor Mrs. Carter!" 
 
 This was the third time she had called the deceased lady 
 "poor," and Mr. Speedy now looked at her a little earnestly. 
 The bright lady looked at him unsuspiciously. ("There was 
 something in her eyes/' said Mr. Speedy, at dinner that day, 
 pursuing his narrative to Mrs. Speedy, " about her eyes so 
 strange and odd.") He looked round to see were the clerks 
 listening. Suddenly the doors were flapping like heavy maho- 
 gany wings, and a gay gentleman came up to be reflected in 
 the mahogany. 
 
 "Well! here I have come again/' he said. "You can't tire 
 me. A large, stock of patience on hand a reserve fund, like 
 your own." 
 
 Miss Manuel turned round and knew the voice. " Major 
 Carter!" she said. "Why, I declare, Major Carter!" It was 
 Major Carter, but he was altered. The gay young manner, 
 which lay on him like a bloom, was dried off; he was not so 
 bright, or, perhaps, so clean, and he had a sharper and more 
 earnest, and even nervous manner. He started with astonish- 
 ment and some confusion as he saw her and Mr. Speedy bent 
 together over the counter. 
 
 "Miss Manuel !" he said. " So glad. Been well, I hope ? 
 But er why here?" he added, with a sort of sneering tone. 
 " Ladies don't go round to Life offices as they go round shop- 
 ping, eh ?" 
 
 Mr. Speedy, who had been scanning him coldly, and did not 
 relish his interview being interrupted, said now: "It is no use 
 coming until the full board meets again. I told you so, Major 
 Carter, before. '' 
 
 " Oh, quite right, quite right," he said, hastily ; "I was only 
 passing, and looked in. And so you are at this sort of thing? 
 And why the ' Irrefragable ? ' No better office, of course," he 
 added, hastily. " It is melancholy to be obliged to think of such 
 things, and to have vile profit associated with those whose 
 memory we love. But what can you do ? Grown up sons, 
 Miss Manuel, and a little extravagant. Ah, /can't treat my- 
 self to such a pure luxury as feeling." 
 
 Miss Manuel was looking at him steadily. "I was sorry to 
 hear it," she said, " very sorry. So sudden, too. It must have 
 been a great trial." 
 
 "It was a blow/' he said, in a low voice, "a trial to us all. 
 But, after all, we were prepared for it. She had been ailing a 
 
272 Never Forgotten. 
 
 long time; oh dear yes! That is," he added, hastily, "when I 
 say a long time, I mean within a year. You are now in town ? 
 Ah, so glad ! After all, poor Eastport ; though, indeed, I know 
 it brought us all our troubles. Indeed I felt for you. Must go 
 now. Good-by. Morning, Mr. Speedy ! " 
 
 With lip that fluttered nervously, the bright lady looked after 
 him as the heavy dcor swung to and fro, as it were, in a rage. 
 For a quarter of an hour more she and Mr. Speedy talked to- 
 gether 3 then the brougham drove away. As she swept round 
 the corner, she saw the figure of Major Carter looking about 
 cautiously. Her face flashed up. " It is beginning. It is com- 
 ing ! " she said. "In time the Lord will deliver them all into 
 my hands. It is written on his face." 
 
 There was something written on Major Carter's face at 
 least, a different writing from the old light and careless hand 
 familiar to all at Eastport. There, every day, a hundred gay 
 little "devices," as airy and nonsensical as the mottoes in bon- 
 bons, were to be read. Now, there was a serious "legend," 
 written in contracted characters. She went home in a sort of 
 elation. Life was beginning to have a zest. Often and often 
 there had come great gaps and blanks, when all hope and interest, 
 and even consciousness of life, had left her ; when time and life 
 and the gay things of the gay world round her, seemed only a 
 long white monotonous reformatory gallery, with barred grates 
 and windows as dreary, as hopeless, as prostrating. She had 
 nothing to live for. She was oppressed with the chilling blank- 
 ness of loneliness. But now she was beginning to apprehend 
 life, and the scattered objects of life were striking on her senses, 
 for she was living, breathing, and moving towards a purpose. 
 
 As she drove up to her own door, she found a figure standing 
 on the steps. It was Fermor the outlawed Fermor, as he 
 almost seemed to be now. She did not know that he had been 
 lying there in wait. This image fitted harmoniously with all 
 that was in her mind. He saw her drive up with one of his 
 bitter "sore " smiles upon his mouth. 
 
 "I should have come a little later," he said, "and been 
 received with the usual answer. The next thing, I suppose, 
 will be, you will tell me with your own lips that you are not at 
 home." 
 
 "The Lord," thought the inner Miss Manuel again, "will in 
 good time deliver all into my hands." But the outer Miss 
 Manuel, leaning on his arm to get out of her carriage, said, with 
 bright eyes and soft encouragement, " I can see you are aggrieved 
 
Constructing a Wei. 273 
 
 about something. Come in. No, I know you will not. I must 
 be punished and made to feel." 
 
 Fermor walked up-stairs after her. She was never looking 
 more dazzling than at that moment. What she had been think- 
 ing of had sent additional sparkles from her eyes. She was 
 thinking how fast the fly was coming to the web coming, too, 
 of its own wish not to be kept out from the web with a foolish 
 eagerness to be caught. To him, this brilliance a brilliance 
 set off by dress, and choice of colour in dress was almost con- 
 founding; and the feeling in his mind was a secret wonder how 
 this had never struck him before in the old Eastpcrt days. As 
 he sat opposite to her on Mr. Romaine's " low chair," he looked 
 and looked again, and marvelled at what cloud had been 
 between his eyes and her. 
 
 He was full of his grievances, and ready with indignant pro- 
 test ; but, as he looked, he began to soften. They fell into the 
 category of those little outrages and insults which were a delight- 
 ful and welcome little armoury for him in drawing-rooms. 
 
 " I am getting so used," he said, plaintively, " to hard knocks 
 from all sides, that nothing comes upon me now as a surprise. 
 I am persecuted for justice' sake. You, of course, only follow 
 the crowd." 
 
 " Yes," said she, gaily, " I am now of the world, worldly. 
 It is the only true course. Sentiment, scruples, delicacy, consi- 
 deration, and the rest of it, are all waste of time and unprofitable. 
 A la guerre, comme a la guerre. In the world, why not as the 
 world ? " 
 
 "Just what I thought," he "said. " I have not lost my old 
 power of judgment, though I suppose people say it is dulled. 
 You are now sought and courted, and I suppose flattered. Every 
 one that comes, pays, I suppose, for his welcome by some coin 
 of this sort. You relish it every day more and more, and do not 
 care for those who come unfurnished, or do not care to furnish 
 themselves. I am not skilled in that sort of thing. Once, per- 
 haps, 1 could do it as well as any of them." 
 
 Her eyes fell on the ground. Her voice became low, and 
 soft, and plaintively musical. " I thought you understood me. 
 You, who know the world by heart, should make allowance for 
 some of that rouge and patches which we must all put on. 
 Once, indeed, I knew life, and fell into its ways, but that was 
 long, long ago, down at poor Eastport." 
 
 His eyes fell on the carpet too. " Ah ! I begin to think those 
 were very happy times," he said, sighing; " happier than will soon 
 
a 74 Never Forgotten. 
 
 come again." He did not see how she was looking at him, nor 
 did he know how she was thinking how much faster Nemesis 
 was walking than she had calculated. "Yes," he went on, "I 
 often think of it I do indeed of your pleasant home, and the 
 life we spent together." (He, in fact, often did, for there had 
 been an excitement and uncertainty in the life, which had made 
 it adventurous and agreeable to think of.) "I do not expect 
 that you have yet learned to judge me fairly, or to make allow- 
 ance for the cruel way I was treated -, but you will in time, I 
 am sure. Ah ! I was indeed a victim." 
 
 A pang shot across her face. " Of course," she said, hastily. 
 " As I said, we are all victims of circumstances. I could make 
 allowance. I saw what engines were set at work. Someway, 
 I cannot bring myself to talk of these things with the quiet in- 
 difference I ought. But every day I am learning, and shall 
 learn. The world is a delightful master." 
 
 "I like to talk of old times," he said 5 " it has a sort of sooth- 
 ing effect. At home they do not understand these things. I 
 can get no one to understand them. Practically, I am a stranger 
 there. You understand me. I should like now and again to 
 talk with you over such matters. But they are too pastoral and 
 ^insubstantial. The worldlings, it seems, and the flatterers, have 
 stronger claims." 
 
 He was determined to force himself into the web. His foot 
 was on the outer thread. 
 
 " How you misjudge me," she said, in the sweet key her voice 
 sometimes sang in. " I am as you we are strangely like 
 lost in a crowd of friends who are not friends. There is a 
 tumultuous crowd pressing round me, and yet I am alone as if 
 I was in a desert. These pleasant airy chattering men, so light 
 and gay, what do you suppose they can do but chill my heart ? 
 With you I could have sympathy. We are in the same tone. 
 I could gradually come to know you better and better, and find 
 a soothing comfort, as you say, in talking over old times, but 
 but " 
 
 Greatly interested, Fermor said, hastily, " But what why not. 
 tell me>" 
 
 She shook her head. " No, no ; I have reasons. Better for 
 me to keep in my present groove go on as I have gone on. 
 Forgetful ness, coldness, heartlessness, indifference these are the 
 medicines for me. I should have nothing near me like sympathy, 
 manliness, generosity, love, nor appreciation. No, no. Now 
 you will understand what seemed ungracious what you took 
 
Lord Putnenhams " Little Music." 27$ 
 
 for barring of doors against you ! I thought you would have- 
 understood me better. So, I say, better cross over the street, 
 and leave me on my own pathway." 
 
 Bewildered by this speech, and strangely interested, Fermor 
 was not ready with a reply. Suddenly came pouring in the 
 hollow world, the pleasant set who sat around Miss Manuel : 
 critics, biographers, bishops, wits, and the rest. 
 
 He went his way in a strange exhilaration. After all, here 
 w r as the old charm at work still. There was something strangely 
 piquant about her. She made him talk as others did not make 
 him talk. She was full of genius, and of the dramatic sense. 
 
 But there was a soft mystery about her last words a pleasant 
 confusion above all, a compliment to him, in that persistent 
 exclusion, that was welcome. He was pleased to find himself 
 " rehabilitated," and he walked home with dreams floating 
 before him the old dreams of vanity and complacency. Work 
 had been resumed with the censers. The old charm remained. 
 
 CHAPTER THE FIFTY- FIRST. 
 LORD PUTNENHAM'S " LTTTLE MUSIC." 
 
 A RIM of low, old-fashioned little houses, like dolls' houses, 
 runs round a sort of hexagonal teaboard-shaped patch of 
 green, called Hans-square, just at the back of Sloane-street. A 
 slumbering monotony reigns there. The hall doors have a 
 huddled hunchback air, and the houses themselves are squeezed 
 close, like a crowd at a show where room is precious, and where 
 stewards have been making people move up. Major Carter and 
 his son had three rooms in one of these little houses the parlour 
 story and a cold little warren at the top, where the roof began 
 to slope inconveniently just over the deal dressing-table. The 
 major had seen troubles of late ; things had not gone smoothly 
 with him. <( Poor Mrs. Carter's long illness was a heavy ' draw' 
 upon us," he used to say. " She required many comforts, and 
 all the care we could give her. Our doctor said change of air 
 keep moving about : and she had change of air, poor soul !" 
 
 Heavy business matters, too, were entailed on the major by 
 the death of his wife what he called (< winding up her affairs " 
 (in the Irrefragable Company) kept him in Hans-square. He 
 
Never Forgotten. 
 
 had to watch those "fellows," who were treating him in a 
 shabby, unhandsome fashion. Otherwise, town was not nearly 
 so suited to the major's life as the little realm of a watering- 
 place. There he had everything under his hand : he could 
 cover them all with his hat. " We were more thrown together 
 there," he said. <( Some of the pleasantest days of my life were 
 spent at Eastport." 
 
 But there was yet another attraction. A stout, round, red, 
 and wealthy lady, called Mrs. Wrigley, had a house in Cadogan- 
 place, where, having twenty years before decently interred 
 Joseph Wrigley, Esquire, Chairman of the United Bank, she 
 lived in quiet and substantial splendour, and swung about 
 London in a quaint old chariot. As the late chairman had been 
 what is called "universally respected," so his relict was as sin- 
 cerely admired. She was the object of many gallantries from 
 young gentlemen and men of a more "suitable" age; and she 
 treated these worshippers with mature coquetries, which did not 
 seem in the least out of place, and were conventionally accepted 
 by the circle in which she moved as quite becoming. Youths 
 struggled who should " take her down " i.e. to supper; and at 
 parties younger pairs were often detained at the foot of the 
 stairs, while she slowly passed down the straits a sort of human 
 reproduction of Turner's " Fighting Temeraire towed to her last 
 Berth " by a light military tug. 
 
 Yet with these worldly elements she mixed a little religious 
 seasoning. Until she came to know Major Carter, she affected 
 the society of the Reverend Punsher Hill, a dissenting clergy- 
 man of a strong spiritual flavour, whose chapel was in the 
 Chelsea district. There he poured out streams of holy hartshorn 
 the very Preston salts of divinity and " drew " large crowds. 
 With him was combined, in her society, a clergyman of the 
 more established ritual, who sprinkled ess-boquet and rose-water 
 from his pulpit, and made everything pleasant. 
 
 For these gentlemen a sort of " main " of tea was kept flow- 
 ing in Cadogan-place. The odium theologicum did not, as it 
 ought to have done, hinder their companionship. She had 
 contributed handsomely to Mr. Punsher Hill's new conventicle, 
 built for him by admirers of his Preston salts, which was called 
 " Mount Tabor; " and she had given moneys to Mr. Hoblush for 
 what he called his "visiting women." These two influences 
 reigned until she came to know Major Carter. That worldling 
 gradually began to undermine her faith, or at least her warm 
 devotion. She was too good-natured to feel any change, or 
 
Lord Putnenham s " Little Music" 377 
 
 show any change: but the worldling had more force of character 
 than the two spiritualists. They felt themselves slipping as on a 
 parquet floor, and soon the success of Major Carter was so marked 
 as to attract public whispers, and public attention and public 
 murmur, and public anger. She was delighted with his quiet air 
 of the world ; the others seemed untrained children near him. 
 When his cold eve fell upon them, the two clergymen did not 
 like the sensation. 
 
 One little transaction firmly established him, as suggesting the 
 association of intellectual power and the command of men's 
 minds. The two clergymen were sitting with her one afternoon, 
 when Major Carter came in. But Mrs. Wrigley was not so 
 interested in pious matters as she used to be. She talked to 
 them of Lord Putnenham's coming music. 
 
 "I have done what I could," said the Reverend Alfred, sweetly, 
 " but I have not sufficient interest. I would give the world to 
 be there myself." As for Mr. Hill, it was understood without 
 more allusion, that his walks were not the Putnenham walks. 
 No reference was made to him. 
 
 Suddenly entered the worldling Carter, who began to chatter 
 airily and delightfully on mundane topics bringing in a little 
 legend about Lady Mantower and Mrs. Weynam Lake. The 
 clergy present looked at him ruefully. " All the world," con- 
 tinued the worldling, " is crowding to this Putnenham party 
 with his wife, of course. More the wife, perhaps, than the 
 world; " and then he worked his text pleasurably and fluently 
 for a half-hour, and then rose to go. He put his head in again. 
 "By the way, Mrs. Wrigley," he said, " I have a message which 
 I had forgotten. Strictly in private, though." He whispered, 
 " I have ventured on a great liberty, but that is all right the 
 Putnenham affair, you know. It will come to-night. But a 
 profound secret, I stipulate that." 
 
 The surpassing delicacy with which Major Carter had trans- 
 acted this little affair his very anticipation of her wishes, from 
 that hour established his supremacy. 
 
 The town knew Lord Putnenham very well. He was some- 
 times darkly mentioned as the " noble Amateur." He was a 
 musical lord, played " a little," i.e. execrably, on a crazy Cremona 
 violin, and gave a little musical senate laws. There was no 
 Lady Putnenham ; and so, through his fine house in Dover-street 
 strange and protracted agonies were heard, as of a maiden wail- 
 ing, which was the musical lord busy with his "scales;" 
 and sheets of music lay tossed here and there, high and dry on 
 
278 Never Forgotten. 
 
 chairs and cabinets, floating wildly on the carpet, as though there 
 had been a wreck, and a great musical Indiaman had gone to 
 pieces in the drawing-room. The musical lord going about on 
 duty, sat as a musical magistrate, and had cases brought before 
 him, on which he passed judgment. New harmonious 
 gipsies, eager to get a hearing, and who had brought either a 
 voice, or a fiddle, or even a whistle, from the Continent, were 
 led away to him, and adjudicated on. His head lay so much on 
 one side with this listening, that the attitude became habitual 
 and normal j though on occasions of extraordinary attention he 
 listened with his head erect. Yet he was a selfish and practi- 
 cally useless nobleman. With all his audiences, his whispering 
 in corners, his taking of buttons and button-holes, his shrugs, his 
 showering of criticism and musical terms as from a dredger, he 
 never did any real good for any new or wandering artist. And 
 when one had, with infinite struggling, rowed into public favour, 
 the musical lord came paddling at the stern with a little oar no 
 bigger than a fan, and really enjoyed the credit of having con- 
 tributed largely to the success. 
 
 In the large mansion in Dover-street, the musical Lord 
 Putnenham gave entertainments, which were known mysteriously 
 as " rich musical treats." These were a sort of dry Trappist 
 matinees and evening "reunions," where the board was spread 
 with music, and music only ; and the tables groaned with quaver 
 entrees, and light crotchet hors d'oeuvres, and a sparkling presto, 
 served as champagne. Lord Putnenham always bewailed the 
 decay of classical music, and did his best to restore it ; and if a sort 
 of "service," that lasted hours, the close to which was marked by 
 the flutter of the turning of the twentieth page 5 and if faces of 
 agony, and jaws hanging wearily, and mournful rustling on 
 chairs, and acute pains about the spine, and welcome drowsiness 
 (with some), and strange cerebral confusion (with others), and 
 something like incipient idiocy (with one or two) ; if this was 
 restoring classical music, Lord Putnenham did so effectually on 
 every one of his " second Thursdays." 
 
 Strange to say, people came eagerly, nay, struggled to come 
 people of fashion, and people of quality, and people with 
 daughters like Lady Laura Fermor. Wise and wary woman ! 
 She saw that the soil was soft enough for rifle-pits. She saw 
 that, from the hopeless and dispiriting character of the place, the 
 warriors and chiefs would be driven in perforce upon what enter- 
 tainment she could offer; and that in the arid desert character 
 of the country, her daughters would stand out with an artificial 
 
Lord Putnenham s " Little Music." 279 
 
 attraction, from the force of contrast. Noble zealous almost 
 chivalrous commander ! What she suffered in the way of 
 austerities for cane chairs, affording rude and imperfect support, 
 were brought in, to economise space will never be known. If 
 holding out her poor arm day and night, and keeping her fingers 
 closed till the nails grew through the palms according to the 
 Brahmin practice could have helped forward her mission, she 
 would have done it cheerfully. She did not know Lord Putnen- 
 ham, but she soon "reached" him 5 and though the girls could 
 move their ivory keys in the same rude way that they had 
 learned the "dumb-bell" practice and the "pole" exercise at 
 Madame Cartier's, and the graceful handling of the mallet still 
 they had qualified sufficiently, and could be rapturous in musical 
 praise without falling into blunders. 
 
 On a certain second Thursday all the world was there. For 
 weeks before, the Putnenham head, well to one side, had 
 whispered, and hinted, and shrugged, of a new artist that he 
 was bringing out ; " A young Hungarian fellow 5 heard him last 
 Mmmer, in a com-mon cabaret at Prague, absolutely a Com-mon 
 cabaret. I never heard ' Tone * before. A very unassuming 
 young fellow. And 1 have got him to come to England. He 
 will coin. He will put them all out, Sainton and the whole 
 gang. It was the merest chance I just turned in there. Other- 
 wise he would have been fiddling away to Boors and Beer for 
 the rest of his life. I think I know what Tone is; and I say 
 distinctly, Tone has never been heard until now! " A melodious 
 duke or two, an harmonious earl, were now moving their heads 
 with accurate beat, in time to the lively rhythm of an "Allegro 
 Vivace," the Promised Land coming into sight after months of 
 wandering in sterile "Adagios." 
 
 Lord Putnenham had far more ladies than men coming to 
 have the torture applied. Men did not suffer the " Little Ease" 
 so cheerfully. They were restless. Once, indeed, three ill- 
 conditioned " cavalry fellows," who had got shut hopelessly in 
 the heart of the cane chairs, and not being trained to habits of 
 restraint, rose at the end of a " maestoso," and rudely and loudly 
 and conspicuously forced their way out through the company, 
 causing great confusion. One was heard at the door using what 
 Lord Putnenham called " a ribald expression," and which 
 sounded in the key of " utter rot ! " " From that moment," 
 said Lord Putnenham, " I have made it a rule never to ask any 
 of those soldier people. Won't you have an Analysis, Lady 
 Laura ? " said Lord Putnenham, handing her one. " We have 
 
280 Never Forgotten. 
 
 a ' rich treat 1 to-night. Only one daughter, I declare ! Now, 
 now ! " 
 
 " We knew," said Lady Laura, " how precious space was to- 
 night. We left poor Alicia Mary, whose passion is music. We 
 shall get no seat, my dear " (this sharply aside to Blanche), " if 
 you don't move on." 
 
 The place looked like the Tuileries Gardens, there were so 
 many cane chairs. It was crowded. Major Carter had "got" 
 to the party. The fashionable paper had his name, also that of 
 Young Brett, and of Captain and Mrs. Fermor. Miss Manuel 
 had merely said to the noble host : " You must give me a few 
 blank cards for those I like," and a whole sheaf had arrived. 
 Mrs. Fermor had welcomed this promised treat with delight. 
 She enjoyed music, and even the homily-classical music. " Oh," 
 she said, "how kind of her, how charming, how we shall enjoy it!" 
 
 Fermor was still icy, and had plans of his own for that night. 
 " 1 think you had better not go. It is really too great a tax 
 upon a stranger. We could scarcely go upon such an invitation. 
 If you like to go yourself with Miss Manuel " 
 
 " Oh no, no. And you think, so ? But," she added a little 
 quickly, and her cheeks beginning to glow, "I suppose the same 
 argument will apply to us both ? " 
 
 "Not at all," said he, colouring too. "You don't quite 
 follow me." 
 
 This looked like the beginning of the cold skirmishings which 
 lead to incompatibility. Mrs. Fermor went to her room, ready 
 to cry like a child, or like a girl, as she was. But they both 
 went, after all. Grim Mr. Carlay came stalking down from his 
 rooms on the stairs ; he someway heard weeping, and appeared 
 before Fermor in his study. The metal in his face seemed to 
 have assumed a greater tightness and density. There was an air 
 and manner about him that was irresistible. His remonstrances 
 for they were only remonstrances seemed to be edicts. They 
 went together ; but Fermor went chafing, as though he had been 
 a free man chained to a convict, whom he must take with him. 
 
 When they got there, the concert had begun. They had 
 arrived at Somebody's " Grand Posthumous Quatuor in E minor," 
 dedicated to the Princess Szelisky, which was being interpreted 
 by these four artists : 
 
 Ragwitz Bela, 
 
 Krowski, 
 
 Smart (alto), 
 
 and M, Piletti (cello). 
 
Lord Putnenham s "Little Music." 281 
 
 Ragwitz Bela was the young violinist whom the host had 
 discovered in the " pothouse." 
 
 These four gentlemen had travelled many posts, at a sort of 
 steady amble, along a high road " moderate/' until they reached 
 the last bar, when it was thought they would draw rein and 
 bait. But Lady Laura, who had secured end chairs for her 
 party, a judicious coign of 'vantage, and who already was 
 suffering mental and physical pain, and had been glancing 
 wearily from side to side, now sadly convinced that a harem-like 
 seclusion was indeed to prevail, saw, with a sudden sinking of 
 the heart, some thirty pages " turned back " with a loud flutter, 
 and the four artists begin their journey again. It was a 
 "repeat." When the stage was happily accomplished, there 
 was a little pause, and Lord Putnenham led off applause, with 
 interjections of "What tone! I never heard tone before!" 
 Then came an entreating " Hu-s-sh ! " for the "quatuor " had 
 recovered its instruments, and was proceeding slowly into the 
 "adagio." 
 
 This might be described to be a musical interment they 
 proceeded at such a slow and mournful walk Ragwitz Bela 
 leading and drawing out wailing strokes with contortionate 
 agonies sometimes laying his fiddle like a dish under his own 
 throat, as though he were decollated ; sometimes quivering and 
 straining as if he wished to drive his instrument into his neck 
 and lay it finally against the short joints of the spine -, sometimes 
 struggling with it, sometimes churning with it ; sometimes 
 making spasms with his knee and foot, as though he meant to 
 rise and fly away through the air with it. The others went to 
 the work gloomily, and with awful concentration ; a.nd Piletti, 
 who had charge of the violincello, seemed to have a sort of 
 infant's coffin between his knees. 
 
 The mortuary music was at last over. Lady Laura, already 
 worn and haggard, but still "coming up smiling," was feeling 
 the cane pressure acutely. Poor soul ! she was old, and tall of 
 figure, and required little comforts at home and abroad, not the 
 rafter-like support imparted by cane chairs. Yet she smiled on, 
 and took care that smiling should be kept up in the ranks j and 
 when Providence at last brought the " first part " to a conclusion, 
 she had a smile for Lord Putnenham drifting by her, and an 
 ejaculation of ecstasy, " How lovely ! Did you ever hear any- 
 thing like it ? " 
 
 A light and airy repast (as though the host was belonging to a 
 severe Order) was laid on the stairs 5 and yet the company 
 
282 Never Forgotten. 
 
 poured out and ung themselves on it with an avidity that 
 seemed to hint that they had been shipwrecked and newly taken 
 off a rock. Mrs. Fermor sat penned up on a centre chair, her 
 eyes fixed on Ragwitz Bela, whom she thought divine. Miss 
 Manuel was in another part, while Fermor made part of a small 
 crowd herded together at the door. Rude persons were pressing 
 on him : and early in the night, when he was whispering a 
 pleasant sarcasm to young Bridges, Lord Putnenham had tapped 
 him bluntly on the shoulder, and said, rather roughly, " You 
 must go outside, sir, if you want to talk." He was looking over 
 at Miss Manuel looking sourly for sitting beside her was that 
 " low, ill-bred, insolent" Mr. Romaine, who had been so forward 
 at the brougham door. 
 
 Tt was at this happy release the end of the first part that 
 Mr. Romaine left Miss Manuel, and came over to Mrs. Fermor. 
 Fermor was about offering to take down Miss Manuel, when 
 Lord Putnenham, just behind him, touched him on the arm : 
 " Beg pardon, let me pass, please. Miss Manuel, come ! " And 
 Miss Manuel went away gaily on Lord Putnenham's arm. As 
 she passed Mrs. Fermor she stooped down and whispered, " Be 
 kind to poor Romaine to-night. He is afraid of you. He is to 
 be pitied, poor fellow. Guess who are here the Massingers, 
 who were to have been in Rome. You will, I am sure." And, 
 pressing her arm affectionately, she passed on. 
 
 "You are still angry," said Mr. Romaine 5 "I can see it. 
 Yet I am the one who ought to suffer, after that awful onslaught 
 on me the other day." 
 
 Mrs. Fermor bit her red lip, but smiled in spite of herself. 
 "You began," she said. 
 
 " I know," he said ; " I always begin. Every man and every 
 woman tells me so. And yet I cannot help it. I am worried 
 and tried. No one understands me, or, of course, tries to under- 
 stand me. Why should they, indeed? " 
 
 Mrs. Fermor looked at him with bright and sympathising 
 eyes. "You judge us all very harshly," she said 5 " we are not 
 all so bad as you think." 
 
 "Why not ? " he said. "I begin to hate the world. I used 
 to believe in it. I found my account in it, for I never accepted 
 the rubbish about a ' hollow world,' and its faithlessness, and 
 that cant. But now I feel shaken. I have seen something to- 
 night that has shaken me. If that faith has left me, I have 
 nothing to trust to." 
 
 Mrs. Fermor was filled with a sort of missionary enthusiasm. 
 
Lord Putnenharrfs " Little Music." 283 
 
 She thought how, in her own weak way, she might confirm and 
 strengthen this strange being. 
 
 " I can feel for you," she said, softly, "indeed I can. But I 
 would not give way, if you would listen to me. I would fight 
 bravely as I know you have done," she added, colouring a 
 little at her own boldness; "you would struggle on, and you 
 would find strength as you went on, and you would, at the 
 end, conquer, and conquer splendidly. You should do that, 
 Mr. Romaine, and you would be helped by the sympathies 
 of your friends. It is only a sacrifice, and we must all make 
 sacrifices." 
 
 She was quite excited, and he looked at her half astonished, 
 half interested. 
 
 " Well," he said, a little roughly, "and was I not willing to 
 make sacrifices ? I went through it all, and suffered, God knows 
 how much. No matter! the thing was done, and here is the 
 whole thing to begin again. But I forget, you don't know 
 what I am talking of." 
 
 "But I do," said Mrs. Fermor, with a nai've toss of her head. 
 "I have heard, and, indeed, I sympathise." 
 
 " There ! " said Mr. Romaine, bitterly, and looking across the 
 room ', " that was once my Marguerite. She has married 
 Valentine after all, and become homely. Look at him ever 
 there Fatuity incorporate ! Yet Valentine is restless and 
 troubled in his mind. He doesn't relish Marguerite's doings. 
 I almost wish he may be more troubled yet." 
 
 " Hush, hush ! " said Mrs. Fermor, with coquettish reproof. 
 " You have promised to struggle, recollect.'' 
 
 " And how am I to do it ? I am alone. I have no one to 
 help me to encourage me." 
 
 Mrs. Fermor smiled. 
 
 "We will all do our best. That is not much, but we will 
 try." 
 
 "If," said Mr. Romaine, looking at her fixedly, "there was 
 any one who would bear with me, and talk with me, and 
 whisper good things now and again, and say kind words of 
 
 encouragement when I felt my strength giving way " He 
 
 stopped and waited a moment. 
 
 With great eagerness, and longing to make a neophyte of 
 him, and have the glory of converting one of these rude rough 
 splendidly savage men, Mrs. Fermor said, with a smile, that 
 she would be glad to have this Samaritan office now and 
 again. 
 
284 Never Forgotten. 
 
 Alas ! This was but a fatal species of missionary labour, and 
 Miss Manuel, sweeping by on Lord Putnenham's arm to her 
 chair, saw the two faces close together, and the little innocent 
 delight in Mrs. Fermor's, and a sort of flash of triumph in the 
 other's. Behind Miss Manuel was walking Nemesis like a page. 
 Young Brett did not come that night until late. Miss 
 Manuel had been looking for him, and beckoned to him from 
 the door, where he had made one of the herd. He flew to her. 
 " Sit down beside me/' she said. " Get that chair." A lady, 
 with the true selfishness which is roused by chairs, was adroitly 
 spreading herself over two chairs, which she seemed to occupy 
 debatably not wholly on or wholly off. Another claimant she 
 would have frozen off with look, manner, or answer. But there 
 was a good-humoured graciousness about Young Brett which 
 saved him, and a sort of homage which she took as payment for 
 the chair. He was allowed to take it. 
 
 " My dear child," said Miss Manuel, i( you have been always 
 so true, and so kind, and so faithful to me, and to us all, that I 
 would ask of you things that I would not ask of others. Would 
 "you do something for me now something very troublesome, 
 and very important ? " 
 
 " Oh ! " said Young Brett, in a tumult of gratitude it was 
 as though she had accepted the gun at last "how kind, how 
 good of you ! Now you are making me happy. What is it ? " 
 
 She was indeed making him happy. For months he had been 
 panting to get an opportunity to do something for her. He 
 thought it was money, and he had plunged his hand eagerly 
 into his pocket. 
 
 Miss Manuel smiled. " No, no," she said, " not that. Then 
 I may tell you ? Would you go on a journey for me ? " 
 
 Young Brett half jumped up. "Is that all? To be sure. 
 When now? Though Oh my goodness! " and his face fell. 
 " I have to join the day after to-morrow. What shall I do ? " 
 
 " Join, of course," said she, good-humouredly. " I must go 
 myself I shall not get any one else." 
 
 " But I must go," said he, in real distress. " I shall manage 
 it leave it to me. I know some one that will get the leave for 
 me and if they don't, why I am beginning to get very tired 
 of the whole business and " 
 
 "Not for the world ! " said she, in real alarm. " You must 
 not think of it." 
 
 "But I see how it can be done," he said, joyfully, "and 
 without that. Leave it to me. Where do you want me to go ?" 
 
Lord Putnenhams " Little Music:' 285 
 
 ft First, then," said she, "it is to be secret. The place is 
 Beaumaris, in Wales, and the house is called Bangor House, 
 looking on the green. Now, I want you to go down, lodge 
 there for a week or ten days, and find out all about the people 
 who lodged there before that is, seven or eight months ago. It 
 will be useful for me to know. Mind, everything. Every- 
 thing will be welcome, and everything useful. Will you think 
 it cruelly unreasonable to do this?" 
 
 She saw delight in his face, and gratitude too, for being 
 chosen for such a mission. 
 
 "This is really kind," he said -, " I was getting so bored with 
 London. I was really thinking of a week at Bangor, or some of 
 those places. It just falls in nicely that is, I mean," he added, 
 growing grave as he thought of his first statement, " if I can 
 leave." 
 
 "Hu-sh !" came from Lord Putnenham -, " no talking, please! 
 H-ush!" 
 
 In fact, the second part was beginning, and Ragwitz Bela was 
 now giving his great Hungarian solo, Verbocsy Czardas, in 
 which he first "agonised,'' and swung, and shocked, and wailed, 
 and quivered through a " largo appassionato," and presently was 
 plucking, and tearing, and mangling his strings (as though they 
 had been his own hair) through ten terrible spasms, called 
 "variations." He worried his violin as though it were a rat ; 
 he seemed to long to bring his teeth into play, and to work at 
 it with that extra power. He dug his fingers into its bowels, 
 and seemed to root and tear at its heart. He made it yell and 
 groan and crack; and, at the end of each variation, tucked it 
 violently under his arm, as it were to smother it up like a child, 
 and mopped his face and hands in moist exhaustion. This was 
 Ragwitz Bela and his solo, which at last happily ended. 
 
 Later on, Mr. Romaine was looking with interest on his plea- 
 sant little missionary. Said he to her, with a sort of low plain- 
 tive music he would throw into his voice : " I have a rude 
 log-house of my own, rude and unfurnished as myself. Civilised 
 people call it ' Chambers.' There I can be as lonely and as 
 savage as I like. Sometimes the Charitable come and see me, 
 and relieve my wants. I have curiosities to show something 
 that would amuse. At least, people tell me so. I could get 
 your friend Miss Manuel to corne, and if you would care to 
 meet her there, to morrow evening, say at five " 
 
 But Mrs. Fermor shrunk away from this scheme. Alarm 
 came into her face. Mr. Romaine was hurrying on too fast, and 
 
286 Never Forgotten. 
 
 tliis was being too bold. She answered coldly, and yet with 
 agitation 
 
 "No, no. I never go anywhere in that way. Don't ask me, 
 please. No I am very sorry." 
 
 She seemed to awake suddenly. All the new Missionary 
 Ordination had gone for nothing. Mr. Romaine did not relish 
 any plan of his being rejected ; so he rose hastily, and flung , 
 himself on his feet. " Very well," he said. " With all my 
 heart. I am sorry. But it can't be helped." He stalked away 
 to the door. (" He is a dangerous person," thought Mrs. 
 Fermor, looking after him in dread.) At the door he passed 
 Miss Manuel. 
 
 " Poor Romaine !" she said. " Keep up your heart. Things 
 will go better another time, and in another direction. But 
 recollect, I warned you ! You think a little too highly of your- 
 self!" 
 
 "I shall not go with you to supper to-night," he said. " At 
 least, I have half determined not to. But it is not over yet, that 
 little business." 
 
 Lady Laura Fermor had sat unto the end would have sat 
 had it been hours longer. Faithful captain ! She had ceased 
 to suffer pain. A sort of dull numbness came on. One would 
 have said she was enjoying pleasure, for she hung out mechanical 
 smiles, like Signs, at regular intervals. And she found her 
 reward. For the youth, Lord Spendlesham, whose father was 
 happily dead (within three months, but the boy had really 
 shown feeling in keeping himself retired so long), was there in 
 decent black gloves, and had actually got to a chair beside 
 Blanche. He was rich, empty, vain, and foolish a combina- 
 tion of good qualities that Lady Laura always admired. 
 
 At the end of Lord Putnenham's musical party, Miss Manuel 
 was at the door, on the inside, and people, as they passed, had 
 little flying "chats," each no longer than ten seconds. That 
 night she was to have one of her compact little suppers, and she 
 was enrolling a few. Young Brett, with confidence and the 
 brightness of hope on his little forehead, posted past her. There 
 was meaning in his eyes. She was talking with Westley Kerr, an 
 agreeable man, when Young Brett said, meaningly, as he passed, 
 and with secret mystery 
 
 "Bangor House, Beaumaris all right, Miss Manuel!" and 
 she smiled to him that he was right. 
 
 But the next instant a face was put round the door from the 
 outside Major Carter's face, but so drawn and contorted, so 
 
To Eus ton- square. 287 
 
 contracted with fury, terror, arid wonder, that Miss Manuel 
 hardly knew it. It was laid against the sill of the door, and 
 came close to hers. 
 
 "Take care!" he said. And though the voice was low and 
 hoarse, he broke into the old trained smile. " Take care, I 
 warn you ! What you are doing is dangerous. I tell you in 
 time, take care, or " 
 
 " Take care !'' said Lord Putnenham's cheery voice. " Good 
 gracious ! what is Miss Manuel to take care of, Carter ?" 
 
 " Of the draught, my lord," said Major Carter, pleasantly. 
 " Standing in these doorways is a little perilous. I give warning 
 in time always." 
 
 A flash of fire passed from Miss Manuel's eyes direct to his 
 face. "I have a strong constitution," she said, "and fear 
 nothing," 
 
 CHAPTER THE FIFTY- SECOND. 
 
 TO EUSTON-SftUARE. 
 
 T^ERMOR had been watching restlessly from a distance. 
 Somehow he was troubled and disturbed in his mind on the 
 subject of Miss Manuel. He had an uneasy sensitiveness about 
 being overlooked by her, and to his ears had drifted a whisper of 
 the coming "little supper." Westley Kerr "a trading wit," 
 a "mere professional ladies' man" (this was the disparaging 
 description in his mind) had passed him with a sort of exult- 
 ing patronage. "They want me at the Manuel house to-night. 
 One of the old little suppers, you know. Not going ? Why, I 
 thought you were an intimate there." 
 
 He strode across to her. "She cannot mean," he thought, 
 " to mark me in this fashion." 
 
 " Good night," said Miss Manuel to him. "I am going a 
 little earlier. I have a few choice friends to-night. You, un- 
 happily, are disqualified. I have rules which you know, and 
 which 1 cannot break through." 
 
 He bit his lip. " Look over there ! " she said, " I am getting 
 fond of her. I want you to be domestic to be a proper model 
 family man a chronicler of the small beer. Seriously I wish 
 this. You have all the virtues for home life, and I want you to 
 
288 Never Forgotten. 
 
 cultivate them. You will shine in that department, whereas in 
 our poor company of fools and triflers you would be lost. So I 
 tell you, candidly, I am not going to ask you." 
 
 There was a mixture of contempt, badinage, and haughti- 
 ness, in the way she spoke these words. Fermor was altogether 
 overpowered, and could hardly reply. 
 
 " Oh, as you please," he said 5 "you have, of course, the 
 light " 
 
 "Of course I have," she said, laughing. "Now go over, and 
 let me see you in a conjugal light. It will be a treat. I mast 
 gather my little flock together, now. Where is Mr. Romaine ?" 
 
 Mr. Romaine had just left Mrs. Fermor, having brought her 
 up from Lord Putnenham's slender restoratives. She had been 
 very earnest, and prettily earnest, in her work of conversion, 
 and was quite elated with her progress. For that whole evening 
 almost she had purposely " kept Mr. Romaine to herself," and 
 he had not even spoken to the blonde bride. She had indeed 
 aided him in his brave struggle. Fermor came up to her 
 chafing and disgusted. "We must come away," he said, some- 
 what roughly. "We have had more than enough of this place. 
 I am sure you can't want to stay longer." The tone jarred on 
 Mrs. Fermor in her present missionary excitement. She was 
 beginning to be deeply hurt by her husband's late neglect. She 
 could not help answering, " You have not helped to make it so 
 agreeable to me." 
 
 " Ah ! " he answered, " I suppose you will now go straight to 
 your father, and bring me to judgment before him. We 
 always had tell-tales at school." 
 
 They entered their house in silence. She went up-stairs 
 without a word ; he was turning into his study for a moody and 
 hopeless meditation, almost raging against that cold heartless 
 woman, whom he had now finally done with, when a page 
 came to the door and handed him a note. It ran 
 
 " Can you forgive me ? I have been worried the whole night, 
 and took it into my head to try you. You came out of it 
 angelically. It is all my own helplessness, and I suppose 1 do 
 not know how to treat you. Of course you would not come 
 now. I have no right to expect it : and yet there is a place at 
 the round table. " P. M." 
 
 Hesitating, pleased, angry, fretful, elated, doubtful, Fermor 
 at last went forth slowly, got into a cab, and drove away to 
 Alfred-place. 
 
To Eus ton-square. 289 
 
 Mrs. Wrigley had sat and suffered through Lord Putnenham's 
 musical party. Major Carter had been at her feet, figuratively, 
 the whole night. He had talked to her of his finer friends, 
 and the finer houses where he was intimate. All her life 
 which had been strongly impregnated with the City she had 
 panted and thirsted after the choice hunting-grounds of society. 
 She listened with curiosity and an oily glance of tenderness. 
 The major was rapidly drawing near to the golden gates of pro- 
 posal, when he would knock and show his papers, and beg that 
 he might be allowed to pass. 
 
 He had just gone to look for the heavy old-fashioned chariot, 
 and was coming back with news of it (he had stopped outside 
 the door to have speech with some friend), when he heard those 
 Welsh names which had contorted his face so terribly. For a 
 moment he had forgotten the old swinging chariot, and the lady 
 who swung in it: but the smooth look had come back to hig 
 face again, and he was presently carefully and kindly guiding 
 Mrs. Wrigley down-stairs. At the chariot door she said 'there 
 was a coquettishness in this interview at the chariot door "You 
 will come to-morrow, Major Carter, at the usual hour. We 
 shall expect you. I shall be not at home for ' those men.'" 
 (Alas ! for poor Hoblush and Punsher Hill !) 
 
 But the major's face was overcast. He answered in trouble : 
 " I am so sorry, so grieved ; but pressing business calls me away 
 to the country to-morrow." 
 
 Mrs. Wrigley languished, said he must be sure and not stay 
 away long j and coquettish ly pulled the glass of the old chariot 
 between her and the major, as she thought she had already 
 risked scandal. 
 
 Major Carter walked away to Hans-place. He found his son 
 up a quiet, unquestioning, and dutiful youth, of whom he often 
 complained that he had to find brains for him, and thought, and a 
 sort of earthly providence. He accepted his father in every 
 situation without so much as a doubt, which was an advantage. 
 He was a good-looking youth, too. 
 
 The impatience and contortion that was on the major's face 
 in the room of the fashionably smooth smirk he had taken out 
 with him, struck young Carter; but he asked no questions. 
 
 " Where's that Bradshaw," said the major, roughly, " that was 
 knocking about here ? Now, when it is wanted, it can't be got." 
 
 The son found it, and brought it. As the father's face was 
 bent over the lamp to read, the light played upon worn furrows 
 and gullies, and strange twists of sour impatience. 
 
296 Never Forgotten. 
 
 "It will answer/' he said, "for a wonder. Where's that 
 hand-bag ?" 
 
 He began to thrust a few things into it, talking as he did so. 
 " I have to go away for a couple of days. Don't mention to 
 any one that I am out of the house. Now mind ! Not a word ! 
 Good God, how I am persecuted ! 1 shall just catch a slow 
 train. Good-bye ! " 
 
 Major Carter hurried out of the house, carrying his hand-bag, 
 and shut the door softly behind him. He got into a cab. He 
 passed Lord Putnenham's house, where the lights were still in 
 the windows, where the link-boys were still shouting hoarsely, 
 and where the hall door, opening now and again, showed a 
 patch of brilliancy. 
 
 By that time Mrs. Wrigley was at her dressing-glass, being 
 unscrewed and ungirthed, and approaching more nearly the 
 normal figure of a Seal. Softly amorous of her admirer, she 
 was receiving the hired homage of her maid. 
 
 At Euston-square, Major Carter asked for a ticket for Bangor, 
 and got ready for a dreary and miserable night. 
 
 H 
 
 CHAPTER THE FIFTY-THIRD. 
 
 MISS MANUEL'S "LITTLE SUPPER." 
 
 ARDING HANAPER, M.P., her Majesty's Under- 
 secretary for Foreign Affairs, Westley Kerr, Dr. Jay, 
 F.R.S., and Mrs. Jay, Colonel Langton, C.B., Gr. Gds., and 
 Webster ^-someway always spoken of without the homage of 
 "Mr.," or the familiarity of a Christian name, a dry saturnine 
 satirist, rather inclined to be silent these formed the fringe of 
 Miss Manuel's little supper-table. The company were in 
 spirits, and came inclined to be gay. The fire was blazing, the 
 table was lighted with pink wax in white china candlesticks. 
 Everything was delicate and inviting. 
 
 Webster settled his napkin about his limbs with anticipatory 
 satisfaction. "I think Putnenham gives the best parties in 
 London," he said. "There are none I like so well." 
 
 Harding Hanaper, fair and simpering, and considered to be a 
 young official of great promise, knew there was something 
 
Miss Manuel's "Little Supper." 19 1 
 
 masked under this speech. " Come," he said, "explain." He 
 had almost said, " will the Honourable Member explain." 
 
 "They fit the mind for enjoyment," said Webster, appraising 
 the dishes. " Don't you see ? It is like being in jail for a year, 
 or being on a regimen, and then eating what you like or on a 
 
 desert island, or in a spiritual retreat, or He takes good care 
 
 to leave no knives and forks in the way. What a narrow soul 
 the man has ! " 
 
 " The prostration that comes on me in that place,'* said 
 Harding Hanaper, bathing his hand in his long hair, "the 
 languor, the loathing of life " 
 
 Miss Manuel's supper consisted of delicate game and other 
 dainties. Champagne lay cooling in the centre, like an Indian 
 belle on an ottoman enjoying the punkah. 
 
 Suddenly Fermor entered with a sort of shyness, for he found 
 a ring of faces that were strange to him. But Miss Manuel 
 sheltered him promptly. 
 
 " Here is a place next to me, Captain Fermor. Mr. Hanaper, 
 become acquainted with Captain Fermor, and help him!" 
 Then, in a low voice, "I see you are not too proud 3 and you 
 might have humiliated me. So, I am grateful." 
 
 " I saw you at Lord Putnenham's," said Harding Hanaper, 
 graciously, and again dipping his hand in his hair. 
 
 "Escape of another convict from Portland," said Webster, 
 suddenly. " So I see by the evening papers. Let us drink 
 him." And he bowed to Fermor ceremoniously. 
 
 Fermor was pleased at this company. He recollected Ro- 
 maine at once. Miss Manuel had a way of making it felt 
 among her subjects that she wished a protege to be respected, 
 and Romaine, though he did not relish Fermor, and would have 
 liked, as he had said before, " to break him like a stick upon 
 his knee/' yet still was trained to affect a sort of respect 
 towards him. Even "Webster," ready to crunch him, as he 
 was crunching the wing of a snipe, bones and all, and having a 
 snarl ready, forbore, and was gracious. 
 
 Fermor was flattered by this universal homage. In the rest, 
 towards each other, there was a republican familiarity which 
 almost made him shiver. About "Webster" especially there 
 was a good-humoured bitterness and shortness long silences, 
 during which he was busy with his snipe j and when he was 
 casting about for more, coming out with something short and 
 smart. Every now and again he squeezed a lemon. 
 
 " I shall help myself, Miss Manuel," he said, stretching over 
 
292 Never Forgotten. 
 
 to the champagne. "The new Miss Jenkinson, who has just 
 come out ! Look ! She shines and glistens like this bottle/ 
 
 Fermor listened, and said something in his .old manner, 
 which was welcomed with general cordiality. He was not 
 altogether an outlaw, he felt. This was something like the old 
 life. He kept up a kind of confidential talk with Miss Manuel. 
 Under that soft light she seemed to glow, and glitter, and flash, 
 like a precious stone. 
 
 "I ought to be at home," he said, in the low, half-injured 
 tone he was so fond of. <( It is my proper place. I have been 
 told so, at least. I am now more fitted to adorn humdrum life 
 than this sort of scene." 
 
 " Ah ! you are thinking of the way I went on to-night. I 
 know you are," she said, looking down. " I am so strange, 
 and behave so strangely. I have Spanish blood in me, and I 
 must curb myself in everything I like even mortify myself or 
 else I don't know where I should end!" 
 
 With a sort of glimpse of the meaning of this mysterious 
 language, Fermor waited to hear more. 
 
 " You don't know me," she said, hurriedly. " I am one of 
 those natures that must rule myself, or be ruled by myself. 
 Sometimes I dare not trust myself. Is it not better, then," she 
 added, half piteously, " to run the risk of seeming rough, and 
 
 brusque, and blunt and, in fact, what you are not, than ? " 
 
 .She paused. 
 
 "Than what?" said Fermor, almost tremulously interested, 
 for now he was seeing quite distinctly. 
 
 Romaine was looking on from across the table perhaps 
 listening. Fermor saw the contemptuous glance on his lip, and 
 was pleased. Of course he was not pleased at the preference, 
 and this put Fermor into great good humour. 
 
 Soon Miss Manuel fell again into the same tone. " Do you 
 like this sort of thing?" she said, in a half melancholy tone. 
 " I think I shall not have them again I shall give them up. 
 You are smiling," she went on, " because you know me, and 
 how little able I am to keep to a resolution. You know I 
 went out to-night with a firm resolve not to ask you here. I 
 bound myself up almost by a vow, and yet here you are sitting 
 next to me." 
 
 Again Fermor smiled. The old armour was still bright, and 
 the sword still sharp. "What have I done ? " he said in a low 
 voice. " I know I have many faults -, but still " 
 
 "More," she went on, "I want you to promise me one thing, 
 that you will be generous " 
 
Miss Manuel's " Little Supper." 293 
 
 "Generous! " repeated Fermor. 
 
 "Yes, generous," she said. "You have conquered me to- 
 night. Let me have some little victories in future. I want to 
 train myself, and shall do so. Why not let me ? You have 
 everything at home, why not be content ? No, we shall have 
 no more little suppers. I want to live in the world as I have 
 hitherto done withour heart, or softness, or esteem, or regard 
 in what is called the hollow world. You understand me. Do, 
 J conjure you, let me, and rub Alfred-place out of the map of 
 London." 
 
 Some one struck in at this point, and with a sentence came 
 between Fermor and Miss Manuel. When she returned to him 
 she said, "Do you know who was to have been here to-night, 
 or, at least, I asked him? Poor Hanbury." 
 
 Fermor started and coloured. " He has come back," she said ; 
 " he has been doing the savage travelling, Gabooning it, and 
 that kind of thing. He never cared for it really ; but I suspect, 
 poor fellow," she added, in a low voice, " he had another object 
 besides gorillas. He wanted to get rid of his old self. You 
 see," she added, slowly, "he was very sensitive, and allowed 
 things to take hold of his mind, which another more sensible 
 would have fought off. And the worst is, he is come back just 
 the same as when he went out, after all the Gabooning." 
 
 Fermor did not lift his eyes. Was this a reproach of hers, or 
 merely accidental ? 
 
 " Poor soul ! " she went on, " (poor fool ! Webster over there 
 would say), he is greatly altered. You remember, he was a sort 
 of rosy, hearty, farmer-like creature. Now you would not 
 know him ; he is a dry, gaunt, silent being. Ah, the poor old 
 John Hanbury! " she added, mournfully. "He died out with 
 the dead past. The iron has entered into his soul, as Mr. 
 Webster would say in his comic way." 
 
 She laughed a little harshly, and rose. "Now," she said, 
 gaily, " for the drawing-room j there is a better fire there." 
 
 During this little supper Miss Manuel's brother had sat silent, 
 and apparently moody. He had altered a good deal since the 
 Eastport days, wore a large coal-black beard, while his black, 
 bright eyes roved from side to side with a look of inquiry. 
 Sometimes he spoke ; but he usually seemed to have something 
 on his mind, and was reckoned '' odd." Still he was accepted 
 as a useful male chaperon for his sister. She was always 
 noticed as being very kind and gentle to him, almost humouring 
 him. 
 
294 Never Forgotten. 
 
 When they had gone up into the drawing-room, Harding 
 Hanaper, who affected the character of the overworked official, 
 who could yet by ability combine late hours and pleasure with 
 all the drudgery of business, came over to Miss Manuel for some 
 private talk. He leant his elbow on the chimney-piece. The 
 others were boisterously pleasant. 
 
 " I shall have to be up at six/' he said, languidly, "to make 
 up for this. A shoal of people will be wanting answers by 
 to-morrow. I must look into their papers before I go to bed. 
 Old Pocock your friend, Miss Manuel, he calls himself is 
 persecuting us at the office. I believe we shall have to give 
 him something for your sake." Miss Manuel opened her 
 great eyes with surprise, or indifference. It might be either. 
 "I believe he would be glad to get even the Lee-Boo Coast, 
 poor soul ; he has come very low indeed." 
 
 "The Lee-Boo Coast!" said Webster, striking in 5 "who 
 are you sending out there ? Who are Harding Hanaper's 
 enemies ? It is murder." 
 
 "The average of human life on that coast," said Mr. Hana- 
 per, placidly, " is commonly from eighteen months to two years. 
 The salary is but nine hundred pounds. So it really amounts to 
 this : we buy a man's life from say thirteen hundred to 
 eighteen hundred pounds, We can't get a bishop at all." 
 
 "What ! an Apron unavailing?" said Webster. 
 
 " It will be vacant in two or three months," said Harding 
 Hanaper 5 " the two years are nearly run out. Yet poor old 
 Pocock is wild for the place. I suppose we must let him have 
 it. We can give him nothing else. He is too old, and too old 
 fashioned, and will bring us into a scrape." 
 
 With gentle persuasion, and almost seductive intercession, 
 Miss Manuel made a request to the official. " You must spare 
 him," she said, "for my sake. I will not have my old man 
 sacrificed on the Lee-Boo Coast. He would die in a week." 
 
 "But he will die in a week if we do not send him, 5 ' said 
 Mr. Hanaper. " He looks quite worn and fretful with anxiety." 
 
 "No matter," said Miss Manuel, "he shall not be murdered 
 officially. We shall keep him at home for his own good like 
 a child." 
 
 "Very well," said Harding Hanaper j " I shall recollect your 
 orders." 
 
 The little gay cohort was gone and scattered -, and Miss 
 Manuel was left alone with her brother. It was past two. As 
 usual, the brightness fled suddenly from her face. A 
 
Miss Manuel's " Little Supper." 295 
 
 weary, and hopeless look came in its place. The brother looked 
 at her gloomily, and with eyes rolling darkly. 
 
 " This life ! '' she said, " my soul revolts against it. I am sick 
 at heart. It is turning me into a demon." 
 
 " I never took my eyes off him to-night/' said her brother, 
 gloomily, " never. I was thinking how strange to have him 
 so near me, and to be so calm and friendly with him. Ah ! he 
 little knew !" 
 
 "But this is all so wicked so horribly wicked/' said she, 
 starting up. (i How can I go on with it ? Only to-night to see 
 that poor soft child whom I am really getting to love to see 
 her falling gradually into the power of that bold man." 
 
 His face lightened. "And she is? I thought so to-night. 
 All is going well, then." Then suddenly changing his voice, 
 " No, Pauline, no going back now. Or/' he added, slowly, 
 and with a meaning that she understood, " if you are tired of 
 the business, or have forgotten what we owe to our darling, 
 whom at one time you said was murdered, as much as a girl 
 was murdered by knife, or rope, or poison, why have done 
 with it, then, and leave it all to me. My course shall be 
 shorter, and perhaps sharper." 
 
 "No, no," she said, hastily. "I don't wish that. But the 
 poor girl that loves me, who is trustful and gentle, why must 
 she be destroyed ?" 
 
 " Every one of them," said he, savagely. " We shall spare 
 none. I am glad she is soft and trustful and tender, very glad. 
 So much the better. Violet was soft and tender too. Ah, poor 
 darling ! and how was she treated ? " 
 
 There was a pause. Pauline then spoke. "I am not equal 
 to this sort of struggle," she said 5 "it is confusing me. No 
 matter, as you say, we must go on." 
 
 Fermor went home that night in a state of wild exultation. 
 He still "lived;" he was not in a state of "social dotage," 
 thank Heaven ! The old power survived. It was wonderful 
 the curious attraction he still exercised on every one coming 
 within his sphere. He was passive. He had long since ceased 
 to care for these little triumphs - } but the old power remained, 
 in spite of influences whose interest it was to hold him in con- 
 tempt and subjection. 
 
 As he entered his hall the clock struck two. He went up- 
 stairs softly, still smiling to lumself. The door of the settlement 
 on the stairs opened, and the grim Carlay figure stood before 
 
296 Never Forgotten. 
 
 him, with a light in its hand. "Would you come in here/' it 
 said. 
 
 Fermor's recent triumph had made him defiant. This sudden 
 return to the rude prose of life jarred on him. " I really can- 
 not," he said. "You must excuse me to-night. You must put 
 off your remonstrance, or lecture, until the morning." 
 
 Mr. Carlay made three strides towards him, and grasped his 
 arm as in a steel vice. " No trifling," he said. " You know me ! 
 Stay, then, where you are, and listen to me. I gave you a warning 
 a short time ago. How are you attending to that warning ?" 
 
 Fermor burst out in a fury. "This yoke is getting intoler- 
 able !" he said, drawing back. "What title have you to lecture 
 rne and bring me to account in this way? Once for all, Mr. 
 Carlay, I give you notice " 
 
 "Hush!" said the other, "I give you notice. Take care 
 what you are doing. Do you suppose this has any effect upon 
 me ? I am not thinking of myself now, but of her. And I tell 
 you solemnly, and I call Heaven to witness," here his long stiff 
 arm was lifted, " that this must not, and shall not, go on ! I 
 have snatched my daughter from death once before, and I will 
 not have her life risked again. Mind. There have been passages 
 in my life that you cannot guess at. And if warnings are of no 
 use, and it comes to this, that there is to be a choice of lives 
 between hers and any other's no matter whose it is there shall 
 not be a moment's hesitation. Her life before all: my life 
 after hers cheerfully. Yours. So take care. / know where 
 you were to-night. You will find her in the drawing-room. 
 Good-night !" 
 
 He disappeared into his settlement. Fermor was left in dark- 
 ness. In presence of this being he lost his self-possession. But 
 he was scared by the dark meaning of his significant hints, 
 vrhich he could not but accept as genuine. The cold withering 
 sarcasm and contempt of his look and manner, as he met the 
 weary, injured, anxious face of his wife in the drawing-room, it 
 would be hard to describe. 
 
 " Where have you been ?" she said. 
 
 He threw the very concentration of contempt and anger into 
 his look and manner. " Though you may run to tell your 
 father and protector of this speech, you shall never, between 
 you, reduce me to such abject slavery ! I tell you this much : I 
 shall never forgot to-night. Fortunately, there are- places, out- 
 side this house, where I am still liked and appreciated. J shall 
 say no more." 
 
Miss Manuel's "Little Supper." 297 
 
 Mrs. Fermor was not of the guild of suffering wives. She 
 was warm and quick of temper. Her bright eyes flashed. She 
 answered him with the heat of wounded pride and repelled 
 affection. That was all for himself, she said. He was welcome 
 to choose his house, and to choose his company. With glowing 
 cheeks she drew herself up with proud defiance, and said that 
 she, too, was independent, and could find amusement and appre- 
 ciation elsewhere. As to what he said about "tale bearing," 
 she scorned it. 
 
 She was still in her Putnenham finery in her tulles and 
 flowers and "low neck." The wreath was on her little head, 
 and the flowers rustled and shook as she spoke with trembling 
 voice, and threw down this challenge to her husband. 
 
 He was astonished. tf So this is the way you meet me, then," 
 he said. " With all my heart ! You have me at an advantage. 
 I have been bought and sold. This is one of the grand mistakes 
 of life found out too late ! Poor Eastport ! Ah ! " 
 
 A twitch came into Mrs. Fermor's face at that allusion. It 
 confirmed her. " Very well !" she said. 
 
 That very night, or morning rather, Mrs. Fermor went to her 
 desk, and, with compressed lips and trembling fingers, wrote a 
 little note. The little note was to Mr. Romaine. It was 
 prettily and coquettishly worded, saying that she would be at his 
 Chambers at five o'clock j and she was so eager it should reach 
 him promptly, that she sent out her maid to post it in the 
 nearest "pillar box." After she had done this, her pink lips 
 were pressed together a little vindictively. 
 
 In a sort of excitement, she dressed herself the next afternoon 
 for a little expedition. She felt a sort of flutter, as though it 
 were an enterprise of great moment and anxiety. But she was 
 determined to be free and independent, and to do something 
 that would commit her to being free and independent. And in 
 a quiet little brougham, that was sometimes hired for her, and 
 glowing like a fresh pulled rose, she drove away to Mr. 
 Romaine's "log-house." 
 
 She stepped out boldly, and almost gave a wistful look up and 
 clown the street, perhaps in the hope that Captain Fermor 
 might be passing by, to see her glove thrown down. 
 
 Such a "log-house" indeed; that is, accepting the richest 
 stuffs, the most gorgeous arms, gold, silver, china, leopard-skin 
 rugs, and filigree lamps, as the rude materials with which log- 
 houses are ornamented. Mr. Romaine came out and met her 
 at the door like a sultan from his palace. 
 
298 Never Forgotten. 
 
 She looked in timorously, and shrank back. For the sultan 
 had no one with him. "Afraid ?" he said. " Quite right. I 
 was prepared. With you I had asked all the polite convention- 
 alities, but they have not come." 
 
 Mrs. Fermor drew back again. "No, no," she said, "you 
 could scarcely ask me. Married ladies do not pay visits to gen- 
 tlemen in this way." 
 
 Mr. Romaine gave a loud and genuine laugh. "If all these 
 caftans, and cloaks, and damascened blades had tongues, how 
 noisily they would contradict you! 
 
 Mrs. Fermor looked at him with a little alarm, and turned to go. 
 
 His voice became soft of a sudden, and entreating. " What, 
 no comfort to-day for the poor lonely outcast ! No encourage- 
 ment ! If you were only to know how much better I feel since 
 
 last night how much stronger and better able to struggle 
 
 But what is this to you ? " 
 
 "A great deal," said Mrs. Fermor, warmly ; "it gives me 
 more pleasure than anything I could hear. But you must pro- 
 mise me to go on, and do your best." 
 
 "Why should I ?" he said, gloomily. " No one cares to help 
 me. Look here," he said; " read that. Just sent here, not ten 
 minutes before you came. And I am expected to be steady and 
 keep straight." 
 
 It was a sort of Lilliputian note, signed " Virginia Massinger," 
 the name of the fair blonde girl. It said that she was coming 
 that afternoon to see him, and to talk over old times. 
 
 Mrs. Fermor was astounded. 
 
 " Now you see," he said, "how / live, and what I have to 
 go through. The best way is not to affect anything quixotic, 
 but to go by the old road. So now, good-bye, Mrs. Fermor. 
 Let me see you down. ' 
 
 Mrs. Fermor paused. She was a warm, impulsive creature, 
 and full of enthusiasm. She seemed to hear a secret call to her, 
 to help, and protect this strange, struggling, even noble heart, 
 who was so unfairly tried. Her cheek glowed as she turned and 
 said 
 
 "No, no j we must do what we can for you. I won't desert 
 you. So come and show me your curiosities/' 
 
 She was bewildered with the treasures that he exhibited; and 
 he illustrated them so agreeably, with such a pleasant, commen- 
 tary, that an hour slipped away. No Mrs. Massinger came, 
 however; for though Mr. Romaine had indeed received a note 
 from her he had written one in reply, pleading business for that 
 
Miss Manuel's " Little Supper." 299 
 
 evening, but fixing the same hour for the next day. How he 
 talked, and almost bewailed the miserable state of his soul a 
 kind of wreck now while Mrs. Fermor listened with a sort of 
 devotion to the curious scraps and hints, patches of his life, 
 which he allowed to escape him carelessly, as it were, and 
 which had for her young soul an unavoidable interest may be 
 conceived. 
 
 " This is so good of you," he said ; " so kind, so thoughtful. 
 Is it profane or disrespectful to say that you have been my 
 guardian angel ? When I see you there before me, or rather, 
 when I think of your advice (is it not absurd almost, I that have 
 rubbed through the world, the wise and experienced man, 
 wanting advice !), I feel so strong. Rut of course I cannot hope 
 for more. Still, for what is past, accept my most grateful 
 thanks, Mrs. Fermor." 
 
 She, thinking herself a perfect little monument of wisdom, 
 shook her finger at him. "It all depends," she said, "on how 
 you behave." 
 
 Driving away, at first she was in a sort of elation ; then fell 
 into some little misgivings and troubles. Why had not Miss 
 Manuel and the other lady come too ? She thought of her 
 then as of a dear friend, and indeed her heart had lately been 
 turning to Pauline with almost a sort of affection and yearning. 
 She was so splendid and brilliant, she admired her, and she was 
 so kind and encouraging. She thought she would go and see 
 her, and tell her her little troubles ; then bade the coachman 
 drive away to Alfred-place. 
 
 At the door of the house was standing a sober practical 
 brougham 5 and a sober practical figure was Jetting himself out 
 slowly, and shutting the door behind him leisurely, as though it 
 were the leaf of a wardrobe. He went up the steps sharply, 
 and rang the bell sharply, as who should say, te An hour contains 
 sixty guineas, not sixty minutes." 
 
 Mrs. Fermor knew him to be a doctor. They told her at the 
 door that Miss Manuel had been taken ill that morning, and 
 was in a raging fever. 
 
 She had been so full of little schemes for confidence, for 
 consultation, for kind sympathy towards this friend, whom she 
 had determined to make a cherished inmate of, and love, and 
 honour, that the news came on her like a blow. It roused up 
 all the enthusiasm of her young heart. "I will go in," she 
 said. "I will go up to her. Oh, this is dreadful! Where is 
 the room? " 
 
Never Forgotten. 
 
 Half way up the stairs, she met a dark figure with black 
 beard and gleaming eyes, who barred her passage. "I am 
 sorry," he said, " we cannot see you. My sister is seriously ill. 
 Another time." 
 
 " But," said she, almost piteously, " I am her friend. I want 
 to see her. I am Mrs. Fermor, tell her." 
 
 He started forward ; his eyes flashed. " You Mrs. Fermor !" 
 he said. " Not a step, please ! I must request you will go. 
 She is ill, and half unconscious : so / am master here now. A 
 pleasant surprise for her, indeed ! You must go away, and go 
 home, and I must beg you won't come here again." 
 
 Really frightened and overpowered, Mrs. Fermor hurried 
 down-stairs. The gleaming eyes, and a sort of restrained ferocity 
 in his manner, scared her. She went home full of grief and 
 confusion. " She has no one to help her," she thought. 
 "Only a woman like me could be her nurse." And Mrs. 
 Fermor, full of enthusiasm and excitement, longed to be a sort 
 of hospital nurse. 
 
 On the next evening, Mr. Romaine came stalking into the 
 room. This visit she did not relish ; at least, its boldness 
 alarmed her. She tried to assume a little cold manner, but he 
 was so earnest and eager that she put it aside at once. 
 
 "You have heard," he said, "about our friend Miss Manuel. 
 It is dreadful, poor, poor girl." 
 
 "But is she better? " said Mrs. Fermor, wistfully. 
 
 " She is in danger," said he, " serious danger. She has 
 worked herself into this fit, and of course all her fine friends 
 will fly the house like a plague." 
 
 Mrs. Fermor clasped her hands fervently. " Indeed, I tried 
 yesterday," she said, " to get to her. I feel for her. I hardly 
 slept last night thinking of her. But there was a terrible man 
 there, who turned me away." 
 
 " I know," said he j " that was her brother." 
 
 " I would give the world," she went on, " to get to see her, 
 to watch over her, to sit up with her at nights, and be like a 
 Sister of Chanty to her." 
 
 "You would?" he said, with great interest. "Are you 
 serious ? There is a good deal of the theatre and poetry about 
 f watching ' and vigils, &c., which may, perhaps, be leading you 
 astray." 
 
 A little wounded, Mrs. Fermor looked at him sadly, without 
 speaking. 
 
 " No, no," he said, " I am only joking. That rough speech 
 
Miss Manuel's " Little Supper." 301 
 
 was not meant for you. I believe in you a little. But if you 
 are in earnest, come with me now! " 
 
 " Come with you?" she said, wondering. 
 
 "Yes," he said, smiling, " I am a sort of gnome, or genii. 
 I can unlock doors and get into houses by mysterious agency. 
 Will you come? But no! Prudery has its claims, even on an 
 occasion like this. She is the Moloch of our day." 
 
 Mrs. Fermor's eyes sparkled. She seemed to feel a holy sort 
 of call. The devotion of the Sister of Charity was before her 
 eyes. " I will go," she said, "and I will trust you." 
 
 She set off with Mr. Romaine. She was actually proud of 
 her superiority to the conventional laws. 
 
 ft I admire you," said Romaine, looking at her steadily, "for 
 the way you have done this. I do indeed. No fuss, no confu- 
 sion, but practical action. I begin to believe there is some good 
 in the world after all and some sense." 
 
 They went in, up-stairs into the drawing-room. A gentleman 
 in black was waiting there, a tall and sorrowful-looking gentle- 
 man. Romaine nodded to him. "How d'ye do, Hanbury?" 
 he said, and left the room. 
 
 Mrs. Fermor drooped her head a little guiltily. Hanbury 
 looked at her sadly, and for a moment or two silently. " So 
 you are Fermor's wife !" he said. She often thought afterwards 
 of the sad, hopeless, and wistful look, with which he said these 
 words. It was a little epitome of a whole history, that began 
 with her own coming to Eastport. 
 
 Romaine came back in a few minutes. " I have seen Manuel," 
 he said. " He has a good deal of the mule in him, but I have 
 made him do what I like, as I do with most people," and he 
 looked at her for a moment significantly. " Now," he con- 
 tinued, "you may come when you please, and stay as long as 
 you please." 
 
 Mrs. Fermor's face glowed with a sense of grateful obligation 
 for this service. This power of "doing," and compassing what 
 seems difficult, is what excites the true reverence of women. 
 The "almighty" man is their hero. 
 
 There was a soft and vital enthusiasm about her, even in little 
 things, which was very interesting to others. She was full of 
 quick, eager affections, and a kind of romance, and threw herself 
 into the new duty she had chosen with an ardour and earnest- 
 ness that was surprising. The brother received her gloomily, 
 and with distrust. He was, indeed, something of a mule. 
 
303 Never Forgotten. 
 
 CHAPTER THE FIFTY-FOURTH. 
 
 A NIGHT SCENE. 
 
 TV/PISS MANUEL was tossing in a sort of fever. " Over- 
 excitement," said the doctor, a calm, wooden rrnn, who, 
 with a steady attachment for the house, came twice in vbe day, 
 and twice in the day let himself out of the one-horse wardrobe 
 at the door. He was not a gloomy man, and used to stand for 
 several minutes by Pauline's bedside, studying her flushed face 
 and her eyes brighter than ever they were before with unre- 
 strained approbation. 
 
 " Nothing could be better," he would say to Mrs. Fermor, 
 watching him wistfully, and whose heart would leap at this 
 joyful news j " nothing could be better. We shall have the 
 worst symptoms by to-morrow. Pulse not yet high enough, 
 blood abnormal, and a little wandering of the brain. I should 
 say by to-morrow at the furthest. 1 should like an oppression 
 of the chest, a difficulty of breathing $ but," he added, with a 
 sigh, as if illustrating the unreasonableness of our nature, " we 
 can't expect everything. Still, nothing could be better." 
 
 And Mrs. Fermor, wondering, and mystified and overwhelmed 
 with deepest grief at this awful language, could only go through 
 the usual farewell medical offices with anything but the delicacy 
 which custom exacts. Pauline was really in danger for a few 
 days. The doctor was right, though he put it in an odd way, 
 when he wished for the crisis and the more dangerous symptoms 
 to pass by. The excitement in which she had been living, the 
 strain upon her life for so long, had begun to break her down, 
 and she was now tossing and working in the hot fiery waters of 
 fever. 
 
 Mrs. Fermor was a perfect Sister of Charity. She sat by her 
 all day, and was really useful. Rut she longed to be able to 
 show yet greater devotion. She would like to sit up with her 
 all night long a duty taken by a professional lady. But the 
 brother came pitilessly and roughly in the evening, and turned 
 her away. 
 
 She spoke to Mr. Romaine. "I would give the world," she 
 said, " if you could manage it." 
 
 "What can I do?" he said. "I am only a rude rough 
 being, without power of any sort. However, we will try." 
 That evening, he came to' her at Miss Manuel's with good news. 
 
A Night Scene. 303 
 
 "I have seen the man/' he said. " We had rather a struggle, 
 but I managed him." 
 
 Again Mrs. Fermor was suffused with gratitude. She had the 
 greatest confidence and a sort of trusting admiration for this all- 
 powerful man. She was going home in a flurry of delight. It 
 was raining, and there were no cabs. He said, carelessly, " But 
 how am I to get home ? " 
 
 Still grateful, Mrs. Fermor said, proudly, "I wish I could take 
 you home. But " 
 
 He was a true friend, and she was almost a little proud to show 
 to the world that in the instance of so true a friend she could be 
 above its vile conventionalities. 
 
 " The old song and the old tune," he said, with what appeared 
 to her real bitterness and wounded feeling. " I suppose, if we 
 were wrecked together on some wretched island, we should be 
 hearing about chaperons, and the other miserable proprieties. 
 Of course you can't help it you only follow the crowd. They 
 would tear you in pieces you know they would ! " 
 
 The little lady was delighted. She felt a glow of honest 
 sympathy. " What would you say," she said, " if I did not care 
 lor the crowd and their tearing in pieces? " 
 
 "I don't believe it," he said, sadly. 
 
 " Get in," she said, triumphantly. " You deserve to go home 
 in the rain but I know you mean well " 
 
 Mr. Romaine, after helping Mrs. Fermor in, had his own foot 
 on the carriage step, when Fermor, with an angry face, came 
 up. Romaine welcomed him with a cordial smile. 
 
 "Just putting Mrs. Fermor into her carriage to send her home 
 to you. You are just in time." 
 
 Fermor suspiciously answered, " Indeed ! it seems so ! " 
 
 "Ay, so it does ! " said Romaine. " Why don't you offer me 
 a seat, Mrs. Fermor?" he added, fixing his eye upon her. 
 
 " Oh," she said, hastily, " offer you a seat ! You know " 
 
 " Why, I ask? Come?" said Romaine. 
 
 He seemed to put this question purposely for some test of his 
 own. Mrs. Fermor coloured a shade, hesitated, and then said, 
 with a little forced manner 
 
 " Well, we shall ask you. You must not think of walking. 
 Where shall we set you down ?" 
 
 The test, whatever it was, was successful j for Mr. Romaine 
 smiled triumphantly. He took off' his hat. 
 
 " No," he said, " I should only crowd you. Good-bye. Good* 
 bye, Fermor." 
 
3 04 Never Forgotten . 
 
 Fermor looked after him sourly. He disliked him, and his 
 presence at that house ; yet, of all the men whom he had ever 
 known, this one alone seemed to intimidate him. 
 
 " I should only crowd you too," he said, with a bow to Mrs. 
 Fermor. " Don't let me interfere with your arrangements." 
 
 Mrs. Fermor was just saying, " But, Charles, Charles ! I want 
 
 to explain " when he turned and walked away. She threw 
 
 herself back, and bit her red lips. " Very well," she said. " Let 
 him go ! I wish I had told him openly that I had asked Mr. 
 Romaine in. Why should I not ? I am not a child, and if he 
 treats me this way " 
 
 She drove home, and came again that night for her first vigil. 
 She was in a tremor of excitement. A great business was before 
 her. She had dressed herself for the task, and got lamps, books, 
 fire, arm-chair, everything, ready with earnest preparation. By 
 ten or eleven she was sitting there alone the attendant with 
 the curled volutes had resigned, wounded, not to say angry a 
 little faithful sentry, with bright wakeful eyes, in an arm-chair 
 sentry-box. She was determined not to sleep on her post. 
 Pauline was tossing there beside her. The crisis the medical 
 visitor had wished for was at hand ; but presently she became 
 quiet and seemed to sleep. Joy and hope filled Mrs. Fermor's 
 heart. Her trust and affection had increased with her attend- 
 ance. She had never read the "wicked " Laurence Sterne, or 
 she might have seen in his gay Sentimental Travels that " You 
 take a withering twig and put it in the ground ; and then you 
 water it, because you have planted it." But Mr. Romaine had 
 lent her a transcendental French romance, called " L' Amour 
 Spirituel." (Alas! did she not occasionally lift her eyes rue- 
 fully, and strain them backwards to the days of " Roger le 
 Gargon ?") And this was so dreary and "spiritual " in its sense 
 of the peculiar relations of those who loved each other all 
 through its pages, that the long-lashed eyelids began to droop, 
 and by one o'clock the sentry was sleeping soundly on her 
 post. 
 
 She woke up suddenly, startled by the sound of some one 
 talking. There was Pauline, sitting half up in her bed, her long 
 rich hair down over her shoulders like a veil, her eyes flashing 
 like glowing coals, and her arms beating back the curtains beside 
 her. In terror, Mrs. Fermor half ran towards the door then 
 came back thinking how late it was, and tried to soothe her. 
 The glowing eyes fixed themselves suddenly on her. The 
 fingers pointed at her trembling. 
 
A Night Seen 6. 305 
 
 " Send for her," said Pauline; "quick send for her, and see 
 when she comes, keep her until I come down to her." 
 
 " Send for whom ?" said Mrs. Fermor, soothing her. " For 
 whom, darling? Lie down, do, dearest there." 
 
 " Keep her!" said Pauline, struggling, " until I come down 
 to her. I wish to settle with her and with them all. But 
 with her and her husband first." 
 
 A little terrified, again she tried to soothe her. "Do lie 
 down," she said ; "you must, indeed." 
 
 " I must tell you," said Pauline, confidentially. " They don't 
 suspect and she, the wife, actually thinks I have a sort of affec- 
 tion for her." And Pauline laughed. 
 
 Greatly alarmed, Mrs. Fermor let her go, and shrunk away. 
 " But who do you mean?" she said. 
 
 "Fermor the Fermors," she said, mournfully; "he who 
 destroyed her our Violet put her to death with his own 
 hands took away her sweet life. Was it not a cruel and most 
 dreadful murder? Was it not? And yet they hang people 
 every day. But listen to me. I can tell you something. We 
 are. on their track his and his wife's." 
 
 " But what harm has she done you ? " said the other. 
 
 " Harm ! " said Pauline, with a half shriek. " Who are you 
 that ask me? Come closer. I can tell you," added Pauline, 
 slowly and doubtfully, " there is something about you very like 
 her! Ah!" she said, again beating the curtains, "she is not 
 far off! Send her to me quick, or I shall get up and find her 
 myself." 
 
 Dreadfully shocked and terrified, Mrs. Fermor ran to the bell 
 - and rang it. In a very short time the brother and some of the 
 servants were in the room. But Mrs. Fermor did not watch 
 again. 
 
 The doctor was right. The crisis had come and was past. 
 Pauline began to recover. In three weeks, he said, rubbing 
 his hands, "We are gaining strength, eh?" And certainly, 
 accepting that community of expression, it must be said there 
 was a sort of strength in which he had gained sensibly since the 
 commencement of her illness. Later on he said, " I don't see 
 why we should not be kept up by the strongest beef- tea and 
 generous port wine?" Later on still, he said, "I .think we 
 shall do we are pretty sure to do;" and, accepting the com- 
 munity of the expression as before, it must be said that he had 
 done very well indeed. 
 
 He had said, " We might be got down for an hour or two to 
 
 x 
 
306 Never Forgotten. 
 
 the drawing-room, but mind, we mustn't over-do it ; " and 
 Pauline, in consequence, had come down, and was sitting in the 
 drawing-room. 
 
 CHAPTER THE FIFTY-FIFTH. 
 
 AN EXPEDITION. 
 
 N Miss Manuel was recovered or convalescent, some 
 letters which she asked for eagerly were brought to her. 
 She picked out three with the Beaumaris postmark three in the 
 handwriting of Young Brett and opened them eagerly. They 
 were in the shape of a sort of journal, and full of details. The 
 honest youth, not very fluent with his pen, had sat up many 
 nights writing everything with a fulness that he thought would 
 give pleasure. He had gone into the work with enthusiasm, 
 and what follows is a short history of his adventures. 
 
 It had been a wintry journey down to Bangor. At Bangor 
 he got on board a sail ferry-boat, and made a stormy passage 
 across with a " stiff" breeze, shipping seas every moment. 
 "There is a long pier of wood," wrote Young Brett, "more 
 like a plank than a pier, by Jove!" (even in writing he could 
 not keep clear of his favourite god), "and the wind was blowing 
 so hard, and there was no rail to hold on by, and the sea was 
 washing over your feet. I give you my honour, Miss Manuel, 
 this thing was a quarter of a mile long. I never saw such fun ! 
 There was an old Welsh clergyman's hat that was caught by 
 the wind, and went flying away like a bird. I could have 
 laughed, only the poor old soul looked so distressed. And you 
 would have laughed, Miss Manuel, to have seen us all tottering 
 along that plank, some of us screaming, some of us laughing, 
 and some of us stopping short altogether, and afraid to go back 
 or forwards. There was a young woman, too, with children and 
 baskets, and she was dreadfully embarrassed between the baskets 
 aiid the children. Just as we were half-way across, and close to 
 me pier, I heard a scream in front, and I saw a little child in a 
 red cloak fall half over the edge of the plank, and there was a 
 wave coming, and the wind blowing," &c. 
 
 Young Brett went on to say that he caught hold of the child 
 by the hand, just as if he had stooped down to lift up any child 
 
An Expedition. 307 
 
 that had tumbled on the gravel in a square. But the truth was, 
 he had jumped forward along the edge of the slippery " stage/' 
 shot past a man who was in front of him, and with much 
 danger and a thorough wetting had caught hold of this little 
 child. He raised her up, and carried her carefully and tenderly 
 all the rest of the journey. The boat went " swirling" through 
 the water, shipping a sea now and again, to his great delight -, 
 but he had the red-cloaked little girl on his knee all the time, 
 and laughed for her, which she could understand, and talked 
 English for her, which she could not, and finally set her down 
 on dry land. 
 
 The woman a handsome young Welshwoman was deeply 
 grateful 5 not so much for the little service, for which she would 
 have nodded her thanks to one of her own station, but for 
 i'oung Brett's manner, which caused the feeling of every one 
 he came in contact with to take some shape of affection, slight 
 or strong. It was so with the cabman who took him but two 
 streets away 5 with the porter who carried his portmanteau from 
 the train to the cab ; with the people who got in at one station 
 and got out in ten minutes. Every one felt that he was good, 
 and this young Welshwoman had the same feeling. 
 
 Landing, he with great delight got into one of the light 
 carriages drawn by a pair of donkeys, and drove away gaily to 
 Beaumaris. " I really felt ashamed," he wrote, " to see myself 
 drawn by the little creatures, but the boy who drove gave me 
 their biography at length, and seemed quite fond of them. 
 Besides, they were very strong, and we trundled along quite 
 cheerfully. But I was thinking if Showers, or Slack, or any of 
 our fellows had seen me! Luckily it was dark." 
 
 Most Welsh travellers have seen the little old-fashioned, dun- 
 coloured, remote, unfriended, pocket town called Beaumaris, 
 which we come to along the river, and which we see jutting out 
 before us into the water, with a sort of sham air of a tiny fortified 
 town, with a dull resemblance to a miniature Ostend. The 
 little dun High-street, through which no carriages travel, and 
 whose little dun houses seem toy-houses j the general air as if 
 the streets were diligently swept up every morning like a 
 hearth ; and the quiet slumber that reigned over the men and 
 women, and the lone common at the edge of the sea, contri- 
 buted to make rather a dispiriting impression on Young Brett as 
 he entered triumphantly drawn by his donkeys. It was all out 
 of the season, it being the depth of winter. The little town 
 seemed to be laid up in ordinary, stripped, unfurnished, like a 
 
308 Never Forgotten. 
 
 ship out of commission. Young Brett drove to the hotel of the 
 place, and was received with a little surprise. The rooms had a 
 mouldy air 5 but he was made welcome. To one of his temper 
 these were dispiriting influences, but he manfully struggled 
 against them, and kept thinking of the friend whose mission he 
 had come down to fulfil. Later, he was sitting at some dinner 
 in the coffee-room, when a gentleman, rubbing his hands toge- 
 ther softly, came gliding in. " God bless me!" said Young 
 Brett, starting up ; " Major Carter, what do you do here ?" 
 
 " Well, of all the coincidences in the world, my young 
 friend!" said the major, casting up his eyes devoutly. " It looks 
 like a providence, that we two, of all men in the world, and 
 here, of all places in the world " 
 
 " I don't know about the coincidence," said Young Brett, 
 bluntly. " I don't understand it." 
 
 "This was my home for a long time," said the major. "I 
 had good reason, unhappily, to connect rre with this place. I 
 ought to remember it. You may be sure it is no pleasure to 
 me to revisit it. But now let me ask you, my young friend, 
 what brings you down here, eh ?" 
 
 "Business," he said, without hesitation. "Welsh business, 
 major. Travelling makes one hungry, as you see.'* 
 
 "Welsh business?" said the major, slowly, and looking at 
 him steadily. " For a friend, I suppose, not for yourself?" 
 
 "Common, every-day sort of thing," said Young Brett, help- 
 ing himself. "A little confidential 5 you understand. Other- 
 wise " 
 
 " I dare say, now," said Major Carter, looking at him still, 
 " where it was a lady who could not herself so conveniently 
 travel, and who had a smart, handy, enthusiastic young fellow 
 she could send in her stead, to use his eyes and pry about, and 
 pick up facts to try and slander and ruin a man who has never 
 done him any harm, eh ? That's an honourable and a gentle- 
 manly duty to be employed on. Eh, Mr. Brett?" 
 
 Young Brett coloured. "I don't understand; that is, I do 
 understand," he added, hastily. 
 
 "As I say," continued the major, "you are a gentleman, and 
 have always been above dirty work. Your friend, Miss Manuel, 
 hates me, and you know why. Because I interfered to save a 
 friend from a match that I considered was unsuited for him. 
 He would have embittered the life of that poor girl. She 
 would have been in her grave now ; you know she would. The 
 girl that he has married he is making wretched. And for this, 
 
An Expedition 309 
 
 Miss Manuel has marked me; I know it; she is determined to 
 harass me in every way she can. I could not believe such vin- 
 dictiveness in a Christian lady. I say it is shocking." 
 
 Young Brett's cheeks kindled. " Do you speak of Miss 
 Manuel ?" he said. " Those words do not apply to her; to her 
 least of any one in the world. I can't sit by, Major Carter, and 
 have her so spoken of j I will not, indeed. She is above all 
 that miles above it. If ever," continued Young Brett, with 
 a trembling voice, " there was a woman noble, and generous, 
 and devoted on this earth, it is she ! " 
 
 " I know she has a friend in you," answered the major, 
 quickly, " and your defence of her is honourable to you. But 
 tell me this : Is it noble or generous to lead astray a young girl 
 a young wife to put her in the power of a cold, scheming 
 man of the world hand her over to him urge him on all to 
 punish the man who left her sister ? Just watch for yourself. 
 Is this devoted or noble ? I declare and I don't set up to be 
 squeamish it seems to me devilish." 
 
 Greatly excited, Young Brett said, " If you mean this to 
 apply to Miss Manuel, in her name I deny it altogether. I 
 could not believe that you could mean to utter such horrible 
 slanders. I won't have them I won't hear them, Major 
 Carter." 
 
 " Good," said the major. " We will say no more about it, as 
 you desire it. Your warmth does you honour. Of course it is 
 excusable in her: she loved her sister; but I implore of you 
 reflect a moment before you go on. ] have had troubles enough 
 in my life, and want to end my days peaceably. Good God ! " 
 continued the major, walking up and down, "it is awful to 
 think of. That any woman should venture on so terrible a 
 track and, my dear boy, I don't think you know the full force 
 of what you are required to do." 
 
 Young Brett looked at him wondering, and still in distress. 
 He had some qualms of conscience, and the picture of the old 
 soldier buffeting wearily through life, and wishing to end his 
 days in calm, affected him a little. 
 
 "Are you staying in this house?" 
 
 " I have to go up by the night train," answered the major. 
 " I had some business here too. I daresay you'll find it out 
 before you go. Lucky fellow you ! You will have a comfort- 
 able bed here, and a comfortable sleep. A capital house. I 
 know it of old. Think of the poor traveller tumbling on the 
 cushions, as you turn round on your side to go off into a com* 
 
3io Never Forgotten. 
 
 fortable snooze. You are not angry with me ? Advice from a 
 man of the world, and from an old man of the world, is always 
 useful. Good-bye." 
 
 CHAPTER THE FIFTY-SIXTH 
 
 BRETT'S DISCOVERIES. 
 
 QTILL under the impression that his office was a little 
 "shabby," Young Brett had to reassure himself pretty 
 often. Was not all that Miss Manuel wished, to hear how 
 a quiet lady died ? He spoke to a waiter that night about 
 Major Carter. An admirable gentleman, said the waiter, known 
 and much liked in the place. They were all sorry when he 
 left. He was so gay and cheerful, and could tell such nice 
 stories. And Mrs. Carter? A good woman, too, but "soft" 
 and quiet by no means to come near the major. What did 
 she die of ? Oh, ill for a long time ; regular break up. Began 
 with a cold. In fact, only for the major, who took such care, 
 and sat up and slaved himself night after night, she would have 
 been dead months before. A good charitable man gay and 
 pleasant, too. (As if the charitable were not usually gifted with 
 these qualities.) Where did he live, and the lady die? At 
 Griffiths's, in the main street. 
 
 In the morning he saw the little dun town better, its tiny 
 street, its house or two, whose second story projected over on 
 pillars, and made a sort of summer-house below. He found 
 that his hotel had one front which looked into the little main 
 street, and another, heavy, massive, and of a chilling iron-grey, 
 that made part of a terrace, and looked out across a little com- 
 mon upon the sea. This was now a cheerless prospect ; and 
 the iron-grey face was as rough arid well scored with ill usage 
 from the weather, as that of an old storm-beaten pilot. 
 
 He set off to Griffiths's. There were miniature shops, where 
 they seemed to sell nothing but glass pickle-bottles full of sweets 
 and lozenges, and in which articles a brisk trade must have been 
 done. He found his way to a narrow yellow strip of a house, 
 in the front bedroom of which Mrs. Carter had died. He 
 knocked. It was opened by a tall bony woman. She stood 
 with it half open, so that her figure, with the door, made up a 
 
Young Brett's Discoveries. 311 
 
 perfect and satisfactory obstruction. Young Brett said cheer- 
 fully that he wished to see Mrs. Griffiths. 
 
 " About what ? " said the other, sharply. " On what ? ' ' 
 
 "Well," said Young Brett, "about lodgings." 
 
 "There are no lodgings to let here, nor won't be," said the 
 woman, preparing to close the door. 
 
 " But," said Young Brett, " I want to see Mrs. Griffiths." 
 
 "Well, what o 1 that?" said the woman, yet more sharply. 
 "I tell you we let no lodgings, and won't let them." 
 
 Brett, still good humoured and never to be put out of 
 temper, said this was provoking, and that it couldn't be helped. 
 That he was a stranger in the place, and could he this he put 
 at a venture see Mr. Griffiths ? 
 
 "No you can't no, nor him neither," she said, not so 
 sharply now. "We don't waste our time in this place j and 
 you, young man, don't waste yours." 
 
 " You won't let me in, that's evident," said Young Brett, 
 laughing. 
 
 "What is it? " said a voice behind the woman, and a hard- 
 lined face, that had been in the world some sixty years, appeared 
 on the shoulder of the woman. Said the woman : " He wants 
 lodgings. Only think ! Why, there's the hotel! " 
 
 The sixty years' face had sharp eyes and ragged hair. The 
 sharp eyes twinkled. " Lodgings," it said. "Well, we might, 
 you know. It ain't our custom. But if a good thing offered " 
 
 The woman turned on him. "Always for money," she said, 
 wickedly. " You would sell your soul, and all our souls, for a 
 tester. I tell you no." 
 
 "And you think money is to be picked up in the street,'' he 
 said. " Here is a gentleman who will make us a good offer, I 
 know he will. And it is hard, precious hard in my own 
 house, too." 
 
 "Ah, go in," she said, with a rough good humour. "Don't 
 let us be exposing our fights in the street. It can't be done," 
 she said to Brett. " Very sorry not to have you, sir. But we 
 don't like to put ourselves out. And I have a hundred things 
 
 to do; so " She closed the door, making it finish what she 
 
 was saying. 
 
 Young Brett went his way a little gloomy. " I can do no 
 more," he thought, "if they wont let me in, or tell me any- 
 thing." But he felt a little ashamed of coming back to Miss 
 Manuel so unsuccessful. So he set off to take a walk in the 
 grounds of the old castle next the town. 
 
2 12 Never Forgotten. 
 
 Some one "showed" it to him ; i.e. received a shilling. And 
 Brett was walking briskly about to warm himself, when he 
 came suddenly on a woman with two children. He recollected 
 the woman at once. 
 
 te Oh, sir," she said, " I came to look for yon. I heard a gen- 
 tleman had been at our house, and I was sure it was the same." 
 
 "What, at Griffiths's? " said Young Brett. "And this is the 
 little woman that nearly fell into the water? You must take 
 care another time, little woman." He doted on children, and 
 most children that he met were seen "toddling" to him with 
 their little hands extended. This little child of the red cloak 
 he stooped down and kissed. The mother looked at him with 
 beaming eyes. She was young and fresh, and had a soft interest 
 in her face. 
 
 " Oh, indeed, sir," she said, "we are so grateful to you. And 
 you thought so little of it." 
 
 "Nonsense," said Young Brett, colouring, as he always did at 
 praise. " You make me uncomfortable. So you were at 
 Griffiths's?" 
 
 "I am their daughter-in-law," said she, "and live with 
 them. My husband is dead. That little one there was his 
 favourite." 
 
 "Nice little woman!" Brett took her up, and put heron 
 his shoulder. " What does she like ? Go-carts and dolls, and 
 Noah's arks? I suppose they sell those sort of things some- 
 where?" 
 
 " O no, no, sir ; you are too kind. But," she went on, with 
 some hesitation, " you wanted lodgings, you said." 
 
 " Why er no, not exactly," said Young Brett, setting the 
 little girl down. " I wanted to see somebody or to hear 
 something you know more than the lodgings. Wasn't there 
 a Mrs. Carter staying with you?" 
 
 The woman looked round with alarm. "Ah, I thought it 
 was that," she said. 
 
 "Why?" said Young Brett, wondering. 
 
 " You wished to hear about all that. And I have been 
 expecting it this long time back." 
 
 "Then I dare say you know all about it," said he, eagerly,- 
 " that is, if there is anything to know." 
 
 She shook her head. " Something not much. It is a long 
 story, and a sad story, and a curious story, sir. If you wish to 
 learn it all, you should stay here some time, and see people who 
 ought to be seen. You should take our lodgings." 
 
Youxg Brett's Discoveries. 313 
 
 Young Brett looked at her astonished. "This is all mys- 
 terious," he said. " I did want to take your lodgings, but they 
 won't let me take them.'* 
 
 " Oh, they will," she said. " He will. He is moaning over 
 the loss of so much money at this very moment. If you come 
 again, sir, in the morning " 
 
 "But," said he, "this is all so odd j and if I were to go to 
 your house, I don't know 1 ought to be back in London." 
 
 " Some one should look to it," the young woman said. 
 
 " It ? What ? " echoed Young Brett. 
 
 "Her illness," said she, mysteriously. "It was very long, 
 and very miserable, and " 
 
 " How did she die?" said Young Brett, eagerly. 
 
 She shook her head. " I was kept away shut out. Poor 
 gentle lady, she fancied me a little, and someway he took care 
 always not to let me near her. He suspected me." 
 
 " Suspected!" said Young B^rett, a little bewildered. " Sus- 
 pected what? and why should he suspect?" 
 
 The young woman shook her head and looked round. "He 
 himself has been here, at our house. He knew that some one 
 was coming, and told them. He has great influence with Mrs. 
 Griffiths. But I say," she went on, with greater vehemence, 
 " some one should look after it ! You should stay here some 
 days. There are people to be seen that know a great deal. I 
 can tell nothing, because I know but little ; but you are clever, 
 and can use your eyes and head." 
 
 " Who am I to see?" said Young Brett. 
 
 They talked some time longer, and she told him then went 
 away. 
 
 There was a dingy apothecary's shop there, languid as regards 
 business ; its bottles, medicines, and apparatus appearing under 
 a delicate film of blue mould. The dispenser himself, as seen 
 through a dusty pane, seemed to be suffering under the same 
 powdery mite-eaten blight. 
 
 Young Brett walked into the shop briskly, and asked to see 
 Doctor Jones. A boy came out from behind the dusty glass 
 door of a back parlour, with hope in his face ; but Young Brett, 
 fresh, clean, and full of bright health, quickly dissipated all 
 illusion. The boy's face fell. Doctor Jones appeared presently, 
 a stooping, grey-haired, trembling old man, with a face of 
 crushed and crumpled parchment. It was turned very shyly and 
 suspiciously on the young officer. With his off-hand way, Young 
 Brett said he wanted a box of cough lozenges. He did not say 
 
314 Never Forgotten. 
 
 for a cough. Some such old fossils were discovered in a pigeon- 
 hole and given to him. Then he began to talk pleasantly with 
 the old man about the place, and about those who lived there. 
 
 There was a fire in the back parlour, and Doctor Jones, shiver- 
 ing a good deal, asked, "Would he come in and sit down?" 
 Brett went in gladly, and had soon, with his usual charm, 
 recommended himself. Gradually he came to the subject that 
 was in his mind, and mentioned the name of Major Carter. 
 
 The old man started back, and looked at him steadfastly, with 
 his hands clasping the knobs of his chair. " Why do you mention 
 him P" he said, quickly. " What do you want to know ? " 
 
 " I ?" said Young Brett. " I know him already have known 
 him ever so long. I knew his wife, too, poor lady ! " 
 
 Old Doctor Jones squeezed his eyes to look yet more suspi- 
 ciously at his visitor. " Why do you talk to me about her?" he 
 said. " It is all so long ago : it is better to let the whole thing 
 be forgotten. 1 don't want to think of it. That is if I was to 
 be thinking of all the people I have attended, and what they 
 suffered, what pleasant thoughts and pleasant dreams I should 
 have!" 
 
 "So you attended Mrs. Carter?" said Young Brett, with 
 blunt interest. " I want to hear about that illness. I am most 
 anxious to know all about poor Mrs. Carter, and how she " 
 
 Suddenly the dirty glass door was opened by a fresh, pink- 
 looking, red-haired young man, with quick eyes, who stood with 
 his hand on the door looking from one to the other. " Mrs. 
 Carter's illness!" he said. " Well, what about it? She was 
 ill, and she died, and was buried, like a thousand other people. 
 Who is this gentleman, father?" 
 
 Young Brett answered promptly that they were merely 
 talking over the town and the people who had lived there. 
 
 "Oh," said the young man, with a half smile j "that was all, 
 was it? How singular! I am Doctor Watkyn Jones. I carry 
 on the business. He is not able to go about and do the visiting. 
 Father, you had better go up-stairs; there is a better fire there." 
 He held the door with a quiet look that seemed to amount to 
 an order. Trembling and looking on the ground with his 
 parchment face, the old man tottered away. As soon as he was 
 gone, the other sat down at the table, and began to talk with 
 great frankness. "I know what this is about, sir," he said, 
 "perfectly well. The insurance people have had persons down 
 here poking and prying about, trying to get up suspicions against 
 honest folk. It is always their game. As far as I am con- 
 
Young Brett's Discoveries. 31 j 
 
 cerned, I am determined they shall have no help ; nor from any 
 one belonging to me. Every honest man must set his face 
 against such proceedings." 
 
 He spoke this so warmly, that Young Brett felt with him. 
 "I assure you/* he said, " I have nothing to do with the insur- 
 ance people never heard of them, in fact." 
 
 "I hope you did not understand me so?" said the other. 
 " I have known Major Carter a long time. He is an honourable 
 man, not rich, but wishing to do all that is right and respectable. 
 You will hear nothing but good of him in this place." 
 
 " Well, certainly," said Young Brett, " so far I have 
 indeed " 
 
 " But he Iras enemies," continued the other. " I know he 
 has. There is one family up in London whom he has offended, 
 and who are literally hunting him, for some fancied injury that 
 they think he did to them. I know, sir, on good authority, 
 instances of this persecution that would amaze you!" 
 
 Young Brett, a little confused and guilty, felt himself colouring 
 all over. 
 
 " I know this myself. This insurance business was all got up 
 by them. The company were going to pay, and a lady of this 
 family went to the manager, and put it all into their heads. 
 Only conceive such a thing, sir!" 
 
 Young Brett was indeed a little shocked and ashamed. Miss 
 Manuel's inquiries about the Irrefragable all flashed upon him. 
 
 " No, sir," said Doctor Watkyn Jones, confidentially drawing 
 his chair closer, " you are a gentleman, and I shall make no 
 secrets with you. When these insurance people came with their 
 mean, sneaking, hole-and-corner inquiries, we met them openly, 
 and sent them back to their London office without a scrap of 
 information. If you care, I shall tell you the whole thing." 
 
 Young Brett said eagerly that he would like nothing so much j 
 and for nearly two hours during which time not a single patient 
 disturbed them Doctor Watkyn Jones told him the story of 
 Mrs. Carter's happy end, which was without pain, and in perfect 
 peace. On Young Brett it left an impression of a very touching 
 scene, and almost satisfied his honest heart. He had done the 
 duty he had undertaken, and was delighted to find that it was to 
 be a very small duty after all. Coming away light hearted, and 
 with general esteem for the local practitioner, he gaily passed to 
 his hotel, then wrote a long letter to Miss Manuel, and took an 
 evening train across country to his regiment. 
 
 " I think," he wrote, " it has all turned out very well, and I 
 
3 1 6 Never Forgotten. 
 
 begin to think myself quite a clever diplomatist. Do you not 
 feel for poor Mrs. Carter ? She was a good creature, and I am 
 glad to think died so happily and with such comforts round her. 
 Old Carter, you see, is not so bad, and with more heart than we 
 fancied. I am sure you will be glad to hear this, and I lose not 
 a moment in letting you know." 
 
 Young Brett, however, did not see the inconsistency between 
 his earlier letters, describing what he had gathered from the 
 young woman in the castle grounds, and his last. Miss Manuel 
 did, and smiled to herself. " Poor honest boy !'' she said 5 " he 
 is too trusting and open to deal with people of this sort. I ought 
 to have foreseen this from the beginning $ now I must act for 
 myself." 
 
 CHAPTER THE FIFTY-SEVENTH. 
 
 MISS MANUEL ON THE TRACK. 
 
 QEEN in the park, waiting on his Mrs. Wrigley, Major 
 Carter's face seemed to have recovered its old clear brilli- 
 ance. There was triumph in his eye. At last he was walking 
 on the mosses of life, and he found it very grateful for his feet, 
 a good deal blistered with stony travel. Things were going 
 well with him. He had suffered friendly and complimentary 
 delving in the ribs from cheerful acquaintances, together with 
 the sly wink of encouragement, and the knowing, " / see, 
 Carter, my boy!" Mrs. Wrigley's face, too, wore the fat 
 bovine smile of conquest. At her time of life such victories are 
 welcome. Punsher Hill and Hoblush found themselves drifting 
 away farther and yet farther every day, and made desperate 
 efforts. Major Carter, too, had triumphed in another recent 
 affair, and knew for certain that Young Brett's expedition had 
 failed failed hopelessly. It was indeed likely that, in a con- 
 test with a simple child, he should prevail. " Poor Miss 
 Manuel!" he said, at the window of Mrs. Wrigley's ancient 
 chariot, playing all his veteran coquetries, " she is recovering 
 slowly, I hear ; we shall not see her for weeks yet. Between 
 ourselves, my dear Mrs. Wrigley, she tries too much far too 
 much. I don't like your manly women, ha, ha ! No ; when 
 you are soft, and gentle, and feminine, and tender, and even 
 
Miss Manuel o?i the Track. 317 
 
 helpless, my dear Mrs. Wrigley," and here the ancient chariot 
 swung heavily with a sort of jerk, in acknowledgment of the 
 compliment, "you make us your slaves." And the voice of the 
 major dropped suddenly into a low, sweet, and meaning key. 
 
 But, at that very moment of success and happiness, there was 
 another scene going on down at the little Welsh town, which, 
 had he known of, would have turned the major's well-trained 
 cheeks quite pale. 
 
 Miss Manuel had decided on her course promptly. She took 
 up the thread where good foolish Young Brett had dropped it. 
 The gloomy brother wondered why she was getting her things 
 together, and where she could be thinking of going at that 
 rough season. He looked on suspiciously, and with roving eyes. 
 "You are getting tired of the work," he said. " In good time 
 you will forget her." Miss Manuel's face flushed up with 
 an intelligent look. "Ah, Louis/' she said, "how little you 
 know me ! 1 am living but for that. And it is for this, and 
 this only, that I go upon this journey to-night." That strange, 
 moody, and injured manner was growing more and more upon 
 him, and he was only half satisfied. 
 
 She was to go with her maid, and on that night. All during 
 her illness, Fermor had been at the door, restlessly coming to 
 and fro. He was never allowed to enter. Day by day he had 
 received welcome news of her gradual mending. Soon he 
 heard of her being out, and of her driving about, and came 
 hurriedly. He found a cab at the door, and luggage was being 
 placed on the top. Miss Manuel met him on the steps. 
 " What does this mean ?" he repeated. " Going away ! Why 
 you are not fit to travel." 
 
 He was struck by the change, and was almost pleased with 
 himself for the romantic and quasi-paternal interest he was show- 
 ing. She was gay, and in spirits, and laughed. 
 
 " What am I going for?" she said j "for a hundred reasons. 
 Perhaps I want change of air perhaps it is a mere whim or 
 perhaps I feel that I dare not trust myself here any longer, and 
 that a woman's resolution is growing weaker every day. Is not 
 the one only course to fly ? Adieu !" 
 
 This speech, had it been written, would have thrown Fermor 
 into a tumult of conceit. But as it was spoken, something 
 scoffing underlaid it. He looked at her with doubt and trouble. 
 
 "Do not go," he said; "I want to speak to you. They 
 would not let me in during your illness; and I came day after 
 day. I saw others let in. You should not treat me in this 
 
318 Never Forgotten. 
 
 way. Don't go yet: I have a thousand things to say to 
 you." 
 
 Again Miss Manuel laughed. " A thousand things to say to 
 me at a cab door! You should learn to be more practical in 
 these days of railways. Good-bye." 
 
 " But," he said, eagerly, " how long do you stay ? Tell me 
 do. Where shall I write to " 
 
 "Drive on," said she to the servant. "Everything is in, I 
 believe." Then to Fermor "Well, I believe a month, or six 
 months or perhaps only a week. It depends. Good-bye." 
 
 Fermor stood looking after the cab. This strange treatment 
 chafed him ; yet there was something pleasing under all. 
 
 Early the next morning, a lady's maid in Beaumaris was ask- 
 ing at the mouldy dispensary where the maid's lady would be 
 likely to find genteel and decent apartments by the week. A 
 delicate lady, newly recovered from sickness, who had been re- 
 commended bracing air. This was spoken to a boy behind the 
 counter, who went in with the request to a back parlour, and 
 came out again with an old man. The old man shaded his eyes 
 with his hand, to look well at her. " I don't know," he said, 
 in a trembling voice. " My son Watkyn is away, and he would 
 not like it, perhaps. Still, my dear, Watkyn likes a little 
 money." 
 
 " But perhaps you know of some place ? " said the lady's maid. 
 
 The boy said eagerly that their rooms were about the nicest 
 in the place, and that the best quality came and stayed there. 
 The maid then went away, and said she would report to her 
 mistress. 
 
 Later in the day a delicate lady, whose face looked as if it 
 could be very brilliant when in the full colour and flush of 
 health, came into the shop, and the old man came out to her. 
 He shaded his eyes as before, but looked longer and harder 
 than before. Into that dusty region she seemed to bring light, 
 and fragrance, and brilliance. The boy stood helpless with his 
 mouth open. The old man kept muttering, " Good gracious, 
 good gracious !" 
 
 "They told me," said Pauline, in her sweet voice, "that you 
 had rooms. If yours are not to let, you might, perhaps, know 
 of others. There would be an advantage, I confess, being only 
 just recovered, in having medical assistance so near." 
 
 " Yes, yes," said the old man, hastily 5 "that is all true. Watkyn 
 is considered clever all round the country, oh, for miles. I am 
 
Miss Manuel on the Track. 319 
 
 sure he would not mind -, he ought to like it, indeed he ought. 
 It would be a surprise for him when he comes back. Heaven 
 send we may all die in our beds I" Which odd speech, muttered 
 to himself in a reverie, made Miss Manuel and the boy start. 
 He started himself, and looked round nervously. 
 
 The rooms were taken. Before the day was out it went 
 through the town, where there was a perfect drought of news, 
 that a "fine" lady had come down, and was staying at " th 1 
 ould doctor's." Later, too, the fine lady was seen herself, walk- 
 ing about, in the green ; and she spoke to the children playing 
 there, and found out a little girl in a red cloak. For the little 
 girl in the red cloak soon came a fresh and handsome young 
 woman, and with the fresh and handsome young woman Miss 
 Manuel began to talk. 
 
 The doctor's lodgings were clean and bright enough. They 
 had a bow-window, and muslin curtains in the bow-window, 
 and would have been very bright and encouraging apartments, 
 but for a dreadful male portrait or two, done in rich tea-board 
 colouring, which, clad in inflexible coats, with high collars 
 apparently cut out of the hardest wood, and suggesting horrible 
 associations of discomfort for the wearer, looked down with a 
 mournful ferocity on the tenants as they sat at tea. That night 
 the doctor's son came home, and started as he saw a great box of 
 Miss Manuel's in the hall. She heard his voice below, putting 
 all manner of inquiries, half angrily, half suspiciously. Very 
 soon he was up in the drawing-roorn, on the pretext of seeing 
 that all was comfortable. 
 
 This pink Welshman, so free of speech, talked gaily with 
 Miss Manuel, who presently set him quite at ease. One of her 
 charms, which she could assume when she pleased, was a help- 
 lessness of manner, with a sense of finding strength and support 
 in the person she was talking with. He was at first curious, 
 hinting questions as to where she came from, and how long was 
 she going to stay, and why, of all places in the world, she 
 selected that cold bleak corner to repair her health in. Pauline 
 scorned a falsehood, or even a semblance of one ; but somehow 
 a misty idea was left upon his mind that some one, say some 
 visitor, had spoken of the superior medical advice to be found in 
 the little town. He told her by-and-by all about himself, for 
 she showed great interest in such personal details; how his 
 practice was increasing, how he soon expected to have the 
 whole business of the place, and of the country round. He was 
 making great way. 
 
320 Never Forgotten. 
 
 Said Miss Manuel, quickly " And you have not long suc- 
 ceeded your father? He was practising last year, was he not r" 
 
 The other looked at her suspiciously. "Well, yes," he said. 
 " But how did you know ? That news did not fly up to London." 
 
 4f Oh, I have heard a good deal since I came even already," 
 said Miss Manuel, smiling; but he had become doubtful and 
 silent, and as he left the room, cast back a sharp quick searching 
 look at her. 
 
 During these days Miss Manuel often went up and down, 
 often went in and out, often looked wistfully at the glass door; 
 but the son was always on quick sharp duty. She never saw 
 that strange nervous old man who sat in the parlour over the 
 rire that is, could not see him alone, for when she met him, 
 and tried to talk to him, the son stood by and watched jealously 
 with his eye fixed on him. Under which eye old Doctor Jones 
 always grew uneasy. 
 
 CHAPTER THE FIFTY-EIGHTH. 
 
 A STORMY NIGHT. 
 
 TT went on, in this fashion, for a week then for ten days 
 then for a fortnight. It was a jail-like existence. The lady 
 who visited the watering-place out of the season, and at a 
 cheerless season out of the season, was an inexhaustible source 
 of wonder and speculation to the inhabitants. The town maid, 
 cut off from her circle of friends and acquaintances (when her 
 season, too, was rife), began to murmur at heart, to grow 
 reserved, and, later, became charged with lemons and vinegar 
 about her face. Pauline herself was fretting and growing 
 impatient. At last, on the night of a cold miserable day, whose 
 tone had been blue as steel, the sea tumbling sharply and 
 bitterly up the straits, and sharp icy east winds gashing human 
 chests and human eyes like cruel razors, an express came in 
 from a neighbouring squire for young Doctor Watkyn Jones. 
 Doctor Watkyn Jones's stories to Miss Manuel were, indeed, 
 pure fables; he was not often sent for, and a Welshman of 
 grim humour said that his patients were all of the " God reward 
 ye " class. The express from the squire was for the squire's 
 lady the great country doctor was away, and Watkyn was the 
 
A Stormy Night. 3^1 
 
 nearest medical man. With the squire's express came a gig to 
 take away Watkyn Jones. 
 
 At first he was dazzled and triumphant, and rushed to tell 
 the London maid, who doubted his professional standing. " He 
 was an imposture," she often said to Miss Manuel (thinking she 
 was using the word " impostor"). Then his pink face became 
 overcast. But it was late, ten o'clock, and he asked the London 
 maid had her mistress gone to bed ? The London maid, with 
 a toss of her head, said she would be in bed in ten minutes. 
 The triumph of the moment soon shut out every other thought, 
 and he took his place in the gig with pride. " Go to bed, 
 father," he said, sternly, fixing him with his eye ; " you sit up 
 too late. It is not good for you. If I had a moment, I should 
 see you in bed before I left." 
 
 " Indeed I will," said the old man. " But what a night for 
 me to be left alone ! Do you hear the wind ? Lord have 
 mercy on us ! That we may all die in our beds ! '* 
 
 The son did not wait to hear the last of this speech, but 
 grumbled as he took his place in the gig. " He does not think 
 of me out here," he said. The razors were indeed darting about 
 wildly. Miss Manuel up in her room, and just about going to 
 bed, heard the gig wheels and the voices below, and the news 
 of Squire Morgan's wife being ill. She heard, too, the winds 
 growling up the straits sulkily and sourly, as if they were com- 
 ing up a tunnel. The London maid came in and told her all 
 the details with great zest, too, for she had now, like other 
 prisoners, began to take interest in things, even like prison 
 spiders or Picciolas. Her mistress listened eagerly. 
 " Is it far off? " she asked. 
 
 " Oh," the maid answered, "he will be away the whole 
 night." 
 
 " I shall not go to bed yet," said Miss Manuel. " Don't 
 wait up." 
 
 It was an old house, built when the little dun town was 
 struggling out of being a mere village. The wooden bow- 
 window rattled, as if the wind wanted to get in, and was in a 
 fury at being kept waiting. Every one was keeping close, even 
 to the old watchman who managed the " curfew " for they had 
 their curfew in the little town and he was snugly sitting in 
 the public-house. Miss Manuel, wrapping a shawl about her, 
 came down-stairs, and saw a light through the glass door of the 
 parlour. She opened it softly. 
 
 The old man was looking nervousljfat the clattering windows, 
 
 Y 
 
3 22 Never Forgotten. 
 
 shrinking away from each gust. He did not hear or see Miss 
 Manuel's entrance. He \vas saying to himself, in his old 
 formula, " Lord have mercy on us ! That we may all die in 
 our beds !" when he looked round suddenly and saw his visitor 
 that is, a tall flashing woman with a light in her hand a 
 spirit, surely, or an angel. For a moment he was terror-struck. 
 Miss Manuel began to speak cheerfully to him and with 
 encouragement. But he was scarcely to be reassured. 
 
 "What a night!" said she. "It makes one feel quite 
 uncomfortable." 
 
 " Ay ! what a night/' he said. " God Almighty be with us." 
 
 "Not a night," said she, "to be sitting alone. We want 
 company, and not to be left to our own thoughts." 
 
 "No, indeed," said the old man, looking at her strangely, 
 " and it was odd, wasn't it, that he should have been sent for 
 to-night, when when " 
 
 " When we would like the house to have all its tenants. 
 Yes," she said, " it is odd. Yet it has happened fortunately 
 for me. I wished to speak to you." 
 
 "To me !" said the other, starting up. " Why to me? What 
 do you want to know ?" 
 
 Miss Manuel smiled. "How odd, now!" she said. " I never 
 said I wished to know anything. That would be accepted as 
 suspicious elsewhere." 
 
 "Suspicious! Who is talking of suspicion?" said the old 
 man, now very agitated. 
 
 She fixed her eyes on him. "Why," said she, suddenly 
 " why is it that your son always watches you so?" 
 
 He started. "Watches me? No he does not." 
 
 "Yes, he does," said she, quickly. "I have remarked it. It 
 seems as if you had some secret which he was afraid you would 
 disclose." 
 
 The look of stupid wonder and confusion the old man 
 gave her, she recollected long afterwards. He could not 
 answer. 
 
 "Another question," said Miss Manuel. "Good gracious, 
 what a gale! Did you feel the house rock then? What is the 
 reason that you are always talking of dying in our beds ? I have 
 heard you say so many times." 
 
 He looked at her now quite scared, and stood up trembling* 
 ** Why do you come to me in this way," he said, tossing his 
 hands, " when there is no one in the house ? When he is away? 
 And on such a night, Lord deliver us! What do you want? 
 
A Stormy Night. 323 
 
 You have some dreadful thing in your mind. And I have said 
 nothing and done nothing." 
 
 She soothed him. "Don't be alarmed/' she said. "I am 
 very solitary up-stairs. The wind always frightens me. No 
 wonder I should like a little company. You talk of dying in our 
 beds, but think of any poor soul departing on such a night as 
 this rushing from the world in a storm! Are there any now 
 in Beaumaris, I wonder? I passed a house this very day where 
 there was a lady dying not so very long ago. Griffiths's they 
 told me it was called." 
 
 The old man was now standing up. " My son was right," he 
 said ; " he told me so. He warned me. He knew it. Ah ! you 
 have watched for this opportunity. You have got me here 
 alone and helpless. It is unfair ; it is " 
 
 "Hush! hush!" said Pauline, drawing herself up. "You 
 will betray yourself. Suppose that I have? Suppose I have 
 come down to seek and to discover and to bring the guilty to 
 justice to track out a foul crime ? Suppose I have watched for, 
 and found an opportunity? Suppose I have found you here 
 alone and helpless, as you say; you may bless your stars for it! 
 For it is the only chance that offers to save you from what you 
 dread, and from what I can see is preying on your soul and on 
 your conscience. And that chance is I tell yeu openly and 
 plainly confession ! " 
 
 He was speechless with terror and astonishment. 
 
 "Take care, take care," she went on, quickly. "You don't 
 know what is hanging over you. The net is drawing closer 
 every day. There is danger and ruin coming, and coming fast. 
 You can save yourself by helping me. I know more than you 
 think I know. Do you refuse or hesitate? If you dare to tell 
 your son when he returns, I shall go away at once, and let 
 everything take its course. There ! Shall I leave you now ?" 
 
 She took up her light, and stayed a moment with her hand 
 on the door. 
 
 At last he found speech. " But I have done nothing. I 
 Know nothing. I am so old. I have " 
 
 " No, no," said she, coming back with a reassuring smile* 
 "Who thinks so? No one. But still you know much, and 
 
 know much that you can tell. Shall I sit down, or " And 
 
 again she laid her hand on the candle. 
 
 "But but my son my son," said he, shaking his hands 
 despairingly; "what will he say?" 
 
 " What will he say when I go away when the whole becomes 
 
324 Never Forgotten. 
 
 public when you are both dragged away as accomplices when 
 this town, and this principality, and this kingdom are ringing 
 with the news of the cruel business that was done down here ?" 
 
 "Who are you?" he said, full of terror. " What do you 
 want with me ? I am a poor miserable old man, and must die 
 soon. It is cruel. I have no strength. My son would protect 
 me if he were here. I am a miserable creature that would not 
 hurt a fly, and must soon die." 
 
 Pauline started up, and stood before him like a destroying 
 angel. " You are old," she said, " and miserable, and have the 
 long, long days of a long life to count up. You must die soon. 
 Yes, but how ? There are other ways than that dying in your 
 bed you are so anxious for. For all your years and all your 
 misery, you may yet be dragged to a shameful end. He who 
 looks on is as guilty as he who does the work." 
 
 The old doctor shrank away from her, and tried to hide him- 
 self behind his hands. "Don't, don't speak so awfully," he 
 said, trembling. "I am an old miserable creature who would 
 harm no one." 
 
 Pauline looked down on him for a moment. "Very well," 
 she said. " Be miserable, then ; I have done. On your own 
 head be it. Do as you like : and I leave you now " 
 
 She turned to go. At that moment the wind came with a 
 fresh howl and a fresh fury down the street : there was a crash 
 only a few houses away, as of a chimney hurled down into ruins. 
 Then came silence ; and the old man crouched and cowered 
 into his arm-chair, as if it were a cave where he could hide 
 his head. She had her hand on the door, and it opened noisily. 
 
 "Don't don't leave me," he said, piteously. "I shall be 
 destroyed if I am left alone. There, I will tell you all all 
 that I know." 
 
 CHAPTER THE FIFTY-NINTH. 
 
 FOREBODINGS. 
 
 M 1 
 
 MANUEL had returned. She had been at Torquay, 
 or at St. Leonard's, or at some of those sheltered wintet 
 corners where invalids go to find colour and strength. This her 
 world supposed j her court of writers and " clergy man ical " 
 
Forebodings^ 
 
 reviewers, all knew this ; and when they made their congratu- 
 lations on her return, never suspected that her fresh brilliancy- 
 was owing to the keen breezes of the little dun town so far 
 away. She returned with all the enthusiasm of triumph.. 
 
 Mrs. Fermor, full of enthusiasm and young affection, had 
 soon shut out the memory of what she had heard during her 
 night-watch, and came eagerly to welcome her friend back 
 again. She had worked herself into a sort of romantic love for 
 this friend ; and though she felt again, when ascending the 
 stairs, something of her old recollections, when she entered she 
 forgot it, and ran forward to embrace her with real affection. 
 
 "I am so glad, so delighted, to see you down again," she 
 said, with a sort of punctuation of kissing. 
 
 Pauline tried to be cold, but her resolution gave way before 
 the genuine delight of this faithful little woman. Then she 
 turned from her suddenly and sharply, and she called herself 
 (mentally) " She-Judas!" 
 
 " I am so glad!" said Mrs. Fermor. "I never discovered 
 until you were ill how much I liked you. I don't know why; 
 we have known each other for so short a time; and I dare say,'* 
 she added, a little ruefully, for she again thought of what she 
 had heard during the night-watching, "you do not care so 
 much for me?" and she looked at her wistfully. 
 
 "Why should you think that?" said Pauline, restlessly. 
 "You know I like you, and indeed I feel grateful for all you 
 have done for me. I only learnt to-day how you nursed and 
 watched me. And it has distressed me more than you would 
 suppose. I wanted nobody,'* and she added, a little vehe- 
 mently, " and you not for the world. You might have 
 caught it. But I am indeed grateful." And again she turned 
 sharply, and called herself Judas. "I never thank," she went 
 on earnestly. " They tell me I am cold, and do not feel obli- 
 gations. So that you will understand if I should ever appear 
 not to value what you have done as it deserves to be valued, 
 you will set it down to the right cause. Don't judge me too 
 harshly; there may be more behind than you know of. We 
 may not all have cur free will." 
 
 Deeply mystified at the beseeching manner with which this 
 was said, Mrs. Fermor knew not what to make of it. " I don't 
 know," she said, " but I am sure you will be always kind and 
 good." She added, piteously, " I seem to have no friends 
 now. I have so few to care for me, and those few 11 She 
 stopped. 
 
Never Forgotten. 
 
 " But your husband," said Miss Manuel, scornfully, t( is he 
 not all in all ?" 
 
 The little lady's little brow contracted. Her eyes fell towards 
 the ground. " I dare say it is my fault," she said. " It may be. 
 I am very young and foolish. Perhaps if I had some one to 
 advise and counsel me, some kind person that understands me, 
 or would try and understand me. I thought of this very often 
 during the night that I was with you. From the very first day 
 I was attracted to you I felt that you would aid and assist me 
 in some difficulty. And now I am sure, if I were to put confi- 
 dence in you and tel] you my little troubles, you, who I think 
 are beginning to like me you who are so good and noble " 
 
 Miss Manuel, who had been listening with eyes fixed on the 
 other, turned hastily and rose. " No, no," she said, " not to 
 me. To any one in the world but me. I am not fit to advise 
 any one. Good and noble ! No, no. Wicked, rather ! I 
 have no will, no strength. I am a weak, miserable being. 
 Leave me, leave me quick ! I am ill still, I believe, and talk 
 absurdly. Leave me now. I shall be better to-morrow." 
 
 Mrs. Fermor departed, sad and wondering. When she was 
 gone, Pauline buried her face in the cushions of a sofa, sobbing 
 wildly. " Good God ! good God ! what am I coming to ? 
 What devilish task is this I have plunged into ? Destroying 
 the innocent poisoning the pure ! No, no save me, save 
 me : and spare that poor, gentle, tender, confiding thing!" 
 
 She felt a hand upon her shoulder, and she started up. 
 " Whom would you spare ? " said her brother, scornfully ; 
 " that girl who has just left you ? Never, by my soul ! never ! 
 not while I live ! If your hand fails, then is mine ready far 
 rougher, and far more deadly. So choose. I am growing 
 impatient. It is too long. Ah, Pauline ! you treat an oath 
 lightly. Your memory is growing weak. To me it seems but 
 last night, and that our darling Violet is lying in the next room. 
 Come, take a serious warning, or, as sure as I live, I go out into 
 the open roads and make shorter work of it. I shall, surelv as 
 I live!" He then looked round and round the room with a 
 suspicious glare, as if some one was concealed. "How can you 
 want me to tell you of these things? / want no promptings. 
 My heart carries me on only too fast. You are forgetting, and 
 will soon have forgotten. I never can forget. I saw her last 
 
 night " He stopped, looking round wildly. 
 
 She was frightened, and soothed him. <( Now, Louis," she 
 said, " depend on me. Leave all to me. Indeed I have not 
 
Forebodings. 327 
 
 forgotten, and never, never shall.'* Those words of his often 
 repeated themselves ; but latterly she had noticed they grew 
 more intense, and lasted longer. 
 
 "No," she said, "I must go on. He is right. The guilty 
 still flourish, and shall be overtaken." 
 
 But the glowing cheek and rich red lip for which Mrs. Fer- 
 mor was noted, were paling off into lighter tones. A wrung 
 and wistful look was in her bright eyes. In her little soul, a 
 stiff strong stubborn pride was working. It had worked its way, 
 like a strong current through the earth of an embankment; and 
 the " breach," as it would be called, between her and her 
 " lord," was widening with every fresh day. 
 
 She went out a good deal into " society," where, like many 
 wandering married ladies, whose lords do not choose to wander 
 with them, she found plenty of pleasant friends and strangers to 
 chatter with, and even to use the good-natured word which 
 conveniently cloaks so many derelictions even to "flirt" with. 
 Had a friendly lady on an Ottoman close by introduced that 
 word to her, she would have coloured up, and gathered in the 
 folds of her dress with noisy rustle, and indignantly played the 
 respectable young woman outraged. With her it was all homage, 
 and intellectual talk with clever men the old moral spring-guns 
 and "gins" of fatal power and mischief. Mrs. Fermor, there- 
 fore, was seen at many parties, and the observant remarked that 
 " that Mr. Romaiae " was at nearly all the houses where Mrs. 
 Fermor was seen. 
 
 There was an intimate air in his manner, the observant 
 observed, which she herself was conscious of, and struggled 
 against. He had the look of coming with her there, and of 
 taking her away, though in effect he did neither. He saw her 
 down to halls, and there imperiously took her cloak from 
 another holding it for her to put on. And though he did not 
 go near her much in rooms, she had a feeling that she was 
 always under his eyes. She began to feel, indeed, that this 
 must not go further, and had determined that, as soon as the 
 holy work in his regard she had put her hand to was satisfac- 
 torily accomplished, it should cease. Poor quick, vivacious, little 
 soul! impetuous, aggrieved, with a sore heart under her tulle, 
 she was kept up by her pride. That " holy work '' she had 
 undertaken was pretty near to being accomplished. It was said 
 that Mrs. Massinger's marriage had made no such brilliant im- 
 pression as was reckoned on (one of her professional critics said 
 she was " curdy "), and the Town resented it as if it were her 
 
328 Never Forgotten. 
 
 fault. The noble earl who looked to those matters, and 
 "rated" belles as seamen are rated, before and after the mast, 
 had smiled contemptuously as he looked down on her through 
 his gold "pinchnose." "Blancmange, my good Fitzroy," he 
 said, shutting up the " pinchnose " with a snap. " Blancmange, 
 and no more. There are people, of course, who do like blanc- 
 mange." 
 
 The neophite was behaving valiantly. It did seem as though 
 he would be firm in his faith. But, alas ! already the Fiery Cross 
 of Scandal had been softly passed round by the full fat fingers 
 of dowagers, and the irrevocable "coupling" of her name with 
 that of Mr. Romaine had taken place. Poor foolish, little, inno- 
 cent, helpless, married woman ! The turbaned vultures were 
 already fluttering heavily in the air overhead. 
 
 Fermor, the "fallen-short man" homme manque was 
 still wrapped in his moodiness as in a cloak. There was bitter- 
 ness in everything he chewed. Presently, a good-natured elderly 
 man, with grey whiskers and a square double eye-glass, came 
 up to him confidentially one evening, and laying the gold glasses 
 on Fermor' s shirt, said " My dear fellow, I know you are a 
 man of sense, and will not take ill what is said by a man old 
 enough to be your father but er I want to speak about " 
 (cough) " Mrs. er Fermor." 
 
 Fermor looked at him sharply, and grew hot. "What would 
 you say about Mrs. Fermor?" 
 
 " Well," said the other, " it is merely as a friend, you know, 
 and " 
 
 " Oh, of course," said the other, bitterly, " it is always a 
 friend who brings us good news. Well ?" 
 
 " You see, the world," said the other, stretching out his glass 
 in the direction of the world, but being brought up suddenly by 
 the shortness of the ribbon, " you see, the world, my dear fellow, 
 is censorious, and I do think, if you went a little more out with 
 Mrs. Fermor, especially to those parties which that half-savage 
 fellow Romaine frequents " 
 
 This came as news indeed for Fermor. " This, then, is the 
 game?" he thought. "lam to be ridiculous through Town ; 
 the mari complaisant : the easy-tempered jackass. Let her treat 
 me as she pleases at home, but I will not be pointed at." 
 
 So to the next party, Captain Fermor announced sullenly that 
 he was going. " With all my heart," said Mrs. Fermor, gaily. 
 " J hope you will go to others too." 
 
 Fermor laughed scornfully. " We shall see." 
 
Forebodings. 
 
 Lady Laura was still lighting the fashionable "good fight." 
 She was labouring on with her old constancy, and seemed to 
 have gained fresh' spirit, though not fresh strength. The face was 
 growing yet longer; the worn cheeks yet more worn; but the 
 eye had the old keen wary ken, and swept the line of men with 
 the nicest appreciation, like a general's. Yet there were many 
 things to damp and discourage her. 
 
 Though successful with Alicia Mary, whom, with infinite 
 pains and struggling, she had made Mrs. Onslow Piper, still that 
 alliance had brought with it serious charges, and some terrible 
 expenses. Trousseau and breakfast were the least of these ; but 
 at the last moment young Piper, with an aggrieved manner, as 
 though he were making this proposal a test for whether he had 
 been "taken in" or no, "struck," and bluntly and suspiciously 
 said it was due to his self-respect to " get something;" that his 
 friends said it was " a shame." And though the poor lady- 
 captain did what she could, the odds were too great, and she had 
 to wring out of her own allowance something that would satisfy 
 the greedy youth. There was the London house too, and the 
 London carriage, and London riding horses on job, and the 
 London milliner, Madame Adelaide : but months ago the job- 
 master had talked to Lady Laura in her own hall as if she had 
 been one of his stable-boys; and Madame Adelaide, once sweet 
 and full of lively compliments, was now showing her teeth, and 
 snarling about "her attorney." Yet she fought on, laboured on, 
 for there was hope. Blanche, younger and fresher than Alicia 
 Mary, had somehow been attracting that young Lord Spendles- 
 ham, just burst from his guardians, and who, in truth, fancied 
 Blanche. Actually "the thing" was making progress, and 
 Blanche, wearing always a look of devout adoration, and follow- 
 ing the noble youth with steady eyes wherever he moved, con- 
 veyed the idea of a hopeless idolatry not unpleasing. Lady 
 Laura had friends good faithful contemporaries who gave the 
 boy a smile of encouragement, and remarked to him the " fine 
 girl there" who never took her eyes off him. 
 
 Young Spendlesham unconsciously selfish threw out care- 
 lessly many whims and wishes, which were gratified at great cost 
 to the family. He was passionately fond of dancing, and when 
 there was a gap in his programme, outside he would say to 
 Blanche, " Get Lady Lau to give a dance, /dote on dancing." 
 And Lady Lau bowed her head with Spartan courage, and was 
 abroad for one half the day in a cab, and for the other half in 
 her room doing common millinery- work with desperate but 
 
330 Nevei Forgotten. 
 
 skilful fingers, striving hard to avoid drifting away on the rocks 
 of Madame Adelaide. Whence she wrung out money for these 
 works, and how she faced the rude job-master and the insolent 
 Frenchwoman, and with dignity made them (for the time) 
 ashamed, and how she screwed a little delay out of both job- 
 master and milliner, were things to be admired and compas- 
 sionated. " If I had only time to breathe," she thought often, 
 "and a little space in front clear! But they come on me all 
 together, and from all sides." 
 
 " Ask the Fermors," she said to her daughter. "I hate 
 having aggrieved relations going about." 
 
 And this was the party to which Fermor had said so sullenly 
 that he would go. 
 
 CHAPTER THE SIXTIETH. 
 
 A CLOUD NO BIGGER THAN A HAND. 
 
 W 1 
 
 r HILE Miss Manuel was away, the town had something to 
 talk of. It was soon pretty well known and pretty well 
 talked about, how " that sucking young Spendlesham" was about 
 to make "a greater fool of himself" than ever. His own con- 
 temporaries told him, in their friendly way, "not to be an ass," 
 and seriously wondered among themselves what he could see in 
 so plain a virgin, who was almost old enough to be his mother. 
 But among the long tribe of dowagers the attempt was most 
 deeply resented. Had they got her among them in some private 
 place, they would surely have sacrificed her. The fury of this 
 elderly populace knew no bounds, and they almost thirsted for 
 her blood. 
 
 It was wonderful indeed. Alicia Mary had been difficult to 
 " placer j" but her incomparable mother had brought her in a 
 winner, as the skilful jockey does the indifferent horse, simply 
 by splendid riding. But what was difficult with Alicia Mary 
 seemed almost impossible with Blanche, who was raw, helpless, 
 and without any fertility of resource. "Splendid riding" was 
 here profitless ; but Fortune took pity on this gallant Lady 
 Laura, and, by some combination of accidents, fascinated the 
 young Spendlesham with the charms of Blanche. The " finest 
 woman 1 ' he had ever known was a fresh barmaid at a fishing 
 
A Cloud no bigger than a Hand. 331 
 
 inn in the country, for whom he had had an agonising attach- 
 ment. But the barmaid had long since married respectably 
 i.e. into an opulent butcher interest. The features of Blanche 
 recalled the old romance, and the fresh barmaid seemed to live 
 again in the person of Blanche. 
 
 But young Spendlesham was not yet sui juris. The law had 
 furnished him with some odious janissaries called guardians, who 
 were wary and watchful. One of these was happily an old 
 admirer of Lady Laura's, Sir John Westende, of Westende 
 House, who, as young Sir John, clapped and applauded when 
 she, as young Lady Laura, was flying round in tulle and flowers 
 on her bare-backed steed. These were the delightful days when 
 we had "figure," and a "neck," and colour, and light in our 
 eyes, and all the ambrosial charms of youth. Sir John, it was 
 thought, was sure to "come forward 3" but he was irresolute, 
 and went back again timidly when he had advanced. 
 
 The young Sir John of those days had not then the Westende 
 property, which came in later. He had a modest but sufficient 
 patrimony, and was deeply in love with Lady Laura. The 
 latter, if ever she liked any man, might be said to have liked 
 Sir John, and told him so. But sentiment, with her, could only 
 be indulged in where it was to be had gratis $ any laying out of 
 money on it was out of the question. Young Sir John went 
 away happy, to travel for two months, and when he returned 
 found that a personal friend had been invited to take his place; 
 a personal friend, too, whose prospects were, if anything, only a 
 shade better than his own. The skilful who managed her affairs 
 thought they were bound to give her the benefit of ever so 
 trifling an advantage ; and, considering that the Westende pro- 
 perty had not then come in, it was only natural that they should 
 act as they did. The balance, which took the shape of senti- 
 ment, could not be reduced into moneys numbered - } and was, 
 of course, left out of the reckoning. Sir John was put back ; 
 the friend, who was shy and retiring, received notice that it was 
 now his turn. This caused a breach. Young Sir John, after 
 some excited expostulation, retired to Westende, while Lady 
 Laura married Mr. Fermor. 
 
 On this step he was furious, got a severe illness, recovered, 
 and went away to the Continent. By-and-by the aunt died, 
 and the Westende property "came in" unexpectedly. The news 
 gave a dreadful pang to Lady Laura ; and later Sir John married 
 handsomely. The lady he married was the well-known Miss 
 Chedder, of the banker's family, with, as some of the elder 
 
33^ Never Forgotten. 
 
 ladies put it, "sixty thousand pounds to her back, my dear," but 
 who had also sixty thousand tongues. She was a stalwart lady, 
 and brought with her to the family the whole story of the 
 Fermor affair, which she kept alive and fresh by constant daily 
 allusion, rubbing salt into an old sore. For sixteen years Sir 
 John led a miserable life, with the Lady Laura business daily 
 flourished in his face, hurled at his back as he left the room, 
 tumbled about his ears like broken crockery, dashed on his 
 cheeks like hot scalding tea until the famous Miss Chedder 
 died, and left him a widower, with two good-looking daughters. 
 
 Young Sir John by-and-by thus became a fatherly Sir John, 
 later on a middle-aged Sir John, and was now an elderly Sir 
 John. But he had never forgiven the Fermors. He had grey 
 whiskers and a round clean face, with a light-blue tie and white 
 waistcoat. For him was the handsome carriage with the bays 
 seen waiting at the foot of the steps as the train halted at 
 Westende ; and to him porters and station-master at Westende 
 obsequiously touched their caps. Then, as the train passed over 
 the viaduct, its passengers saw the bright carriage and brighter 
 horses below, rolling along the winding road, dipping into the 
 clumps of trees, and reappearing in the sun, making the mile and 
 a half or so of journey which lay between Westende House and 
 the station. 
 
 Sir John's sister had married a brother of the late Lord 
 Spendlesham, so that it was quite fitting that he should be 
 appointed one of the guardians. Sir John himself having two 
 good-looking daughters, it was natural that he should begin to 
 associate his ward and his daughters together, in a tranquil and 
 prospective manner. Though he always said that his ward was 
 not worth his salt, and had no wit, and never would have any, 
 and the sooner he made a fool of himself the better. 
 
 This at least was his tone until suddenly, one day, a co- 
 guardian came down to the station and took the pleasant road 
 that led to the park, specially to communicate the news that 
 young Spendlesham had announced that he was going to marry 
 on the very day he came of age. Sir John, who was in his 
 garden with his blue tie on and a grey "wide-awake" hat, took 
 this news savagely his face grew pink with rage and excite- 
 ment, and he threw down his stick upon the gravel walk. " It 
 shan't be ! By it shan't be !" he said ; " curse their im- 
 pudence." (Sir John swore on great occasions.) "What do 
 they mean ? They have done" this on purpose. That woman 
 has laid it all out 5 I know her." 
 
A Cloud no t'iggw than a Hand. 333 
 
 For an hour he was in a fury, then ordered his carriage, and 
 drove into the country town, six miles off, to see Padgett, the 
 country attorney and coal agent. Having seen Padgett, he 
 posted up to London and saw his ward. He came in on him 
 very hot, and very incoherent. The boy wrapped an imaginary 
 toga about him, and drew himself up to meet the storm. " I 
 don't believe it," said Sir John, injudiciously, " not a word of it. 
 They have been making a fool of you, sir. I wonder you have 
 not more sense. You must be watched like a child in the 
 nursery. Pack up your things, and come down with me to the 
 country. I'll expose these people." 
 
 " Never!" said the young lord, still in his toga 5 "my word 
 is pledged the word of a peer." 
 
 " The word of a noodle," roared Sir John. " Don't spout in 
 that fashion to me ! Ah ! I am ashamed of you. An old stale 
 bit of crust like that, that has been kicking about the ball-rooms 
 for years." 
 
 " It's a shame to speak of a lady in that way," said the youth. 
 " She loves me. I shall be of age in a few months, and can do 
 as I like." 
 
 With this tone in the discussion, of course no progress was 
 made. Sir John went away foaming, and determined to expose 
 " those people." 
 
 He was at a dinner-party that night, and, after the dinner- 
 party, "went on" moodily to some " rout." There he saw 
 Miss Manuel, who had always a regard for "oldish " men. She 
 was always thus protesting against the cold and pagan system of 
 modern manners, which carries out the aged of the tribe and 
 exposes them, as they get helpless, on mountains, with a pot of 
 rice. She always fought the battle of the old, and said how 
 grateful they were for any consideration, and how anxious to fit 
 themselves to the times that had left them behind, if the world 
 would only let them. This night she was flushed with victory 
 having just returned from her Welsh expedition. 
 
 Sir John told her his troubles, working himself into a perfect 
 heat as he did so. " They are a mere set of adventurers, these 
 Fermors," he said, " that should be exposed. I don't see why I 
 should be keeping them up. They have always treated me 
 scurvily, from the father downwards. I was very near being 
 taken in myself by that scheming woman. She did her best 
 to catch me, but I had wit enough to escape her." (It was so 
 long ago, Sir John might safely give out this new version.) 
 ' She was a fine woman then, and I had a raging school-boy's 
 
334 Never Forgotten. 
 
 fancy for her; and, ma'am, behaved nobly- nobly, as it seems 
 to me now when she found she could not get me, and took up 
 with that stupid blundering Fermor. I could have broken the 
 thing off in ten seconds; but I didn't. I said nothing; no, not 
 a word, and they were married." 
 
 Sir John had worked himself into a perfect heat as he thought 
 of his treatment. 
 
 Miss Manuel listened eagerly, and then said suddenly, "But 
 I never heard. Do tell me, Sir John.'* 
 
 But Sir John had repented on the spot. It was so long ago, 
 he said ; it was a mere story of the day, and he wasn't sure that 
 it was a story at all. " Look at their ingratitude," he went on, 
 in a fresh burst ; " that poor devil, Pocock, who has helped 
 them through many a business, they will do nothing for him 
 nothing whatever." 
 
 "It is very hard," said Miss Manuel; ""you know they are 
 not friends of mine. It is no harm to say that we have cause to 
 regret an acquaintance with that family. I am told it is not 
 considered a very serious thing now, and that the young men of 
 the day mean it for mere amusement. But still, 1 cannot bring 
 myself to know Lady Laura, or to like her." 
 
 The allusion to Sir Hopkins made a deep impression on Miss 
 Manuel. She almost despised that restless, plotting spirit, and 
 could scarcely bring herself to think him of sufficient dignity to 
 be the object even of punishment. She had avoided him almost 
 with contempt. Now she sought him. She was struck by the 
 decay and blight that had settled on his face. " You have quite 
 given me up, Sir Hopkins," she said to him. "There was a 
 time when you used to come and see me, and talk about your 
 travels, and the treaties, and wild natives. Come and see me 
 to-morrow." 
 
 The old intriguer, whose diplomatic heart was made sick to 
 death by hope deferred, and who had furrows of sickly fretful- 
 ness and anxiety marked on his cheeks, was glad to have an 
 opportunity to air his grievances, and came. 
 
 His hair was scattered and thin. " It is the way of the 
 world," he said, nervously (he was only now finding out that 
 way of the world) " always the way they use you when they 
 don't want you." (But had it not been Sir Hopkins' s own way 
 to the world ?) " I am sure a man who had composed those 
 Waipiti troubles would have a claim. Why, old Lord Boldero 
 said to me, only this day, ' No fellow like you, Pocock, for 
 handling the natives ! ' His very words, Miss Manuel ! And 
 
A Cloud no bigger than a Hand. 335 
 
 Aat young conceited Harding Hanaper, who can sit in an office 
 easily enough, and give pert answers easily enough too, he tells 
 me that he is afraid nothing can be done for me." 
 
 "But," said Miss Manuel, "you should get your friends to 
 work for you the Fermors, for instance." 
 
 " The Fermors ! " said Sir Hopkins 5 " I would not ask them 
 for anything. You don't know all T have done for those people 
 the sacrifices, the trouble. They can work the Buryshaft 
 influence well, but they refused. You don't know what obliga- 
 tions they are under to me." 
 
 " It is very hard," said Miss Manuel. 
 
 " Hard ! it is monstrous ! " he said, piteously. "They talk of 
 getting old ! Look at Boldero, he is ten years older than I am, 
 and they sent him out. Of course they did. He has married 
 into the office, and they will do any job for him. But it is 
 always the way and the way of the world." 
 
 It was pitiable to hear this worldling so severe on the world 
 he had loved and served. As Miss Manuel looked at him, she 
 wondered at the change that had come on him. He seemed to 
 have grown old and almost drivelling. A year or two of chafing 
 and importunity and anxiety had brought this all about. He 
 was no longer the pleasant Sir Hopkins, who gave dinners and 
 who ate them, and who went along the highways of life in 
 listen shoes. No wonder the young flippant children of the 
 F. O. said he had quite " broken up." " I don't speak to the 
 Fermors now," he went on. "All I asked her was to go to 
 the old duke, who used to admire her so long ago. He couldn't 
 refuse. I know he couldn't. There is a history about that. 
 Then I said, a letter, a few lines. She wants to nurse her inte- 
 rest for her family. Carter, too, who did dirty work enough for 
 the family they have treated him just the same.*' 
 
 Miss Manuel's eyes flashed. " Dirty work, indeed," she said j 
 " but he will find his account. And they will all find their 
 account! " 
 
 Sir Hopkins looked a little confused. " I meant," he said, 
 "that old business, long ago. As for Eastport, I give you my 
 word of honour, Miss Manuel " 
 
 Said Miss Manuel, suddenly : " I have some little influence 
 in the direction you speak of. An official friend told me lately 
 that he could help a friend of mine, in a small way j that is, I 
 could speak to him, you know." 
 
 " Could you! oh, co&/dyou!" said Sir Hopkins, in the fervour 
 of senile gratitude. " How kind, how good, how generous* 
 
33 6 Never Forgotten. 
 
 Oh, Miss Manuel,, I shall never forget it ; never, never! Any- 
 thing, you know, will do." 
 
 "It is difficult," she said 5 "but I can promise it to you. 
 There was an island 'going' Prince Somebody's, I think." 
 
 "Yes, yes. Lee Boo's. How did you know?" he said, in 
 astonishment. 
 
 "I know many things," said Pauline ; "more than ever a 
 diplomatist would suppose ; and I am curious to know more. 
 I have a woman's taste for gossip, Sir Hopkins. Sit down there, 
 and tell me your little bit of ugly family business to amuse 
 me." 
 
 Instantly he became the old sly-looking Sir Hopkins, and 
 glanced at her sideways, as he would have done long ago at a 
 Waipiti trying to take him in. " I am not to be entrapped or 
 seduced," he seemed to say. What he. did. say was, "Oh, it is 
 a stupid old story, Miss Manuel 5 would not interest you in the 
 least. But," he added, nervously, "about Harding Hanaper. 
 He has influence there, which he ought not to have, and a word 
 from him " 
 
 "And a word from me to him ?" said Pauline. " No, I am 
 afraid. You see, I must keep any little trifling influence I have 
 for my own family, like Lady Laura, and for my slaves, who 
 work for me and gratify my whims." 
 
 Sir Hopkins looked at her piteously. He understood per- 
 fectly. "I shouldn't have alluded to it ; I was irritated; you 
 know" he said, almost imploringly. " Family honour and ch> 
 valry. No, it would not be right, indeed." 
 
 Miss Manuel burst into a fit of laughter. " What heroics ! " 
 she said. " Who dreams of touching the family honour ? Not 
 I, indeed, I assure you. But I was only joking, Sir Hopkins. 
 Poor me to have influence with Harding Hanaper, or with any 
 one! They only laugh at us weak women." And she stood 
 up. " I have heaps of letters to write. By the way, I have just 
 written to Harding Hanaper." And she pointed to a note u? 
 the distance. 
 
 Miserable irresolution was in Sir Hopkins's anxious face. But 
 he could not resist going out with pride and dignity, and doing" 
 a bit of the old Waipiti intrigue. " You are very cruel to me, 
 Miss Manuel," he said. "You bear malice, I see. Good-bye.' 
 
 Miss Manuel stood in the same attitude for many moments, 
 watching the door by which he had passed. " I hold him," she 
 said triumphantly, "in the hollow of my hand. The wretched 
 creature would sell his soul for office." She was turning to go 
 
A Cloud no bigger than a Hand. 337 
 
 to her desk, when the door was opened softly, the worn face 
 was put in again, and Sir Hopkins said 
 
 "If you are not busy now, Miss Manuel " 
 
 "Busy!" said she, "not at all! We can have an hour's 
 comfortable chat, and tea I know you like your afternoon cup 
 of tea and, shall I tell them to let in no one ?" 
 
 Sir Hopkins looked over irresolutely in the direction of Mr. 
 Harding Hanaper's note. It was not gone. He drew in his 
 chair, laid his hat on the ground beside him, as he always did, 
 and said, " Shall I tell you a story >" 
 
 " I see I shall have to re-write my letter," said Miss Manuel, 
 tearing up Mr. Hanaper's letter. 
 
 " So you see," said Sir Hopkins, with his old Waipiti smile, 
 as he rose to go away, having quite talked himself into a fluent 
 diplomatic vein, "so you see it is nothing but a bit of old family 
 scandal. Such things gather at the skirts of every respectable 
 house in the country. Where there are young men, there will 
 always be a little folly of this kind. Miss Manuel, I believe 
 Mr. Harding Hanaper is still in town, and " 
 
 "And this is all?" said Miss Manuel, with her eye fixed 
 coldly on him 5 " this is all?" 
 
 " This is all," Sir Hopkins said, going away 
 
 When he had gone, Miss Manuel said to herself, " He has 
 not told a quarter of the truth! He thinks he can keep his 
 wretched old hand in practice on me! If he chooses to play 
 these tricks, he must pay the penalty. I gave him one chance, 
 and he has thrown it away." She then sat down to her letters. 
 She did not write to Harding Hanaper, but to her fresh elderly 
 friend, Sir John, who admired her as "a fine woman." 
 
 "DEAR SIR JOHN, As you mentioned that you were anxious 
 about that foolish ward of yours, who is so determined to become 
 a husband, I am Samaritan enough to let you know that I am 
 likely enough to know something that may be useful. You 
 seemed annoyed about the business, and I could not help taking 
 this trouble to assist you. In the mean time, I would advise 
 your not going to Lady Laura Fermor, as you seemed to think 
 of doing, until we hear something more. 
 
 " PAULINE MANUEL." 
 
 Sir Hopkins, passing again, saw the messenger go with the 
 notes in his hand. He chuckled and became two years younger 
 on the spot. " I can manage the Waipiti yet, though they ulk 
 
338 Never Forgotten. 
 
 of superannuating me. Old Laura will do something for me 
 with Buryshaft, when I tell her this. You did not get much 
 out of me, Miss Manuel, and I shall be ' His Excellency' very 
 soon!" 
 
 CHAPTER THE SIXTY-FIRST. 
 
 THE CLOVEN FOOT. 
 
 A T Lady Laura's entertainment was seen Mr. Romaine and 
 ^ the " blancmange-faced " new Mrs. Massinger. There 
 were others, too, of good quality 5 for young Spendlesham had 
 said that he did not like being "put down" with all sorts of 
 low people. He had his dance, and his many dances, with other 
 young ladies besides Blanche ; but he used to come up with his 
 handkerchief to his face, saying, " Well, this is wonderful fun !" 
 Before the night was over he was beside " Lady Lau/' pouring 
 iuto her ear details of a new scheme. 
 
 " I say, we must indeed. These things are so easy to get up,, 
 and you can hire dresses and properties." The youth was allud- 
 ing to the entertainment known as Tableaux Vivans. " How 
 we used to get them up at Spendlands ! I was Cardinal Wolsey. 
 I could get the dress again, I know." 
 
 The veteran's heart sank within her at the costly nature of 
 this species of show, and some faint protest escaped her, some- 
 thing about the " smallness of their house." The youth, sensi- 
 tive and selfish, laughed this off pleasantly. " Small! Not a 
 bit of it," he said 3 "we shall squeeze them all in. It will be 
 splendid. Leave it to me." Lady Laura, who felt that this, 
 indeed, if laid on, would be the last straw upon the sadly worn 
 and strained camel's back, in these desperate straits thought of a 
 dismal ruse. She was looking round mysteriously, and putting 
 her face close to young Spendlesham's with marvellous signifi- 
 cance. " It would be charming," she said : " such a treat for 
 the girls! But you know old Lady Bowler next door, you 
 understand she would let loose her whole conventicle on the 
 poor children, and then, you know, she is dreadful, my dear. 
 Lord, you don't know how she embitters our life." 
 
 This social exhumation of Lady Bowler had its effect, and 
 silenced the youth. But he was sullen and aggrieved. " Veiy 
 
The Cloven Fool. 33 p 
 
 well/* he said ; "just as you like. It makes no matter, none in 
 the world. The Chillingworths said something to me about it 
 yesterday, and they have such a 'jolly room/ " 
 
 Lady Laura had still her smile "0115" but it was a sickly 
 smile. At this moment came up Blanche, with an officer in 
 custody. The bright young creature, full of natural warmth 
 and animation, was eager for news. 
 
 " You have settled it all," she said, enlarging the officer, "I 
 see you have. " Isn't it delightful, mamma? Lord Spendles- 
 ham says I am to be Pomona, and be all over gold apples." 
 
 The youth's hands found their way gloomily to the depths of 
 his pockets. " O no! no, no!" he said, "it's all given upj 
 that is, at your house ; and there's some Methodist that won't 
 have it. But it makes no matter. I shall get it up at the 
 Chillingworths'." 
 
 The look of reproach and silent agony that the dutiful child 
 flung at her mother, would be hard to describe. " It is all a 
 mistake," she said. " Nonsense. Mamma doesn't mean it." 
 Lady Laura saw by this time that delay would be fatal , so she 
 bent down her poor overloaded worn bleeding camel's hump t 
 and took up this last burden with assumed cheerfulness. The 
 whole was settled that night. Young Spendlesham laid out 
 reckless schemes of expense. He enlisted arbitrarily a whole 
 corps before the night was over. " I tell you who I have made 
 up my mind to have $ that little Mrs. Fermor." 
 
 " Charles's wife ? " cried Blanche, faintly. 
 
 " Do you know, I like Charles's wife," said the young lord, 
 pleasantly. "There is something so smart and quick about her. 
 I am sure she is good fun. Yes, we shall have Charles's wife, 
 but not Charles himself. There's Romaine. I must speak to 
 him." 
 
 Fermor the poor pariah of the party, the interdicted from 
 the fire and water of conversation kept at the door. He had 
 now grown sensitive, scorning to intrude himself or his gifts 
 upon mammas with absently-roving eyes and business-like 
 daughters. Standing in this mood, he saw Hanbury come up 
 the stairs the new and changed Hanbury, with his curious 
 mournful manner. He seemed to bring with him all the old 
 Eastport associations, and Fermor walked hastily away. " He 
 will be coming to me," he thought, "and playing off his new 
 aggrieved character. He means all the women to be pointing 
 to him, and wanting to know the story of his blighted heart. 
 I wish to Heaven I was out of this place, and out of the whole 
 
Never Forgotteh. 
 
 concern ! '* But in a few minutes Hanbury was beside him. " 1 
 am so glad, Fermor," he said. " It is so long since I have seen 
 you/' 
 
 " You do come out to parties, it seems ?" said Fermor, with a 
 half sneer. 
 
 " Not often," said Hanbury, sadly. " I never cared for such 
 things, as I dare say you recollect. What brought me here to- 
 night was the hope of meeting you. I had something to tell 
 you. Just come out here on the stairs." 
 
 "Why not here?" said Fermor, more and more resenting 
 the " Werner manner." 
 
 "I know," said John Hanbury, interpreting all this, and 
 coming back the little way he had gone, " that I never suc- 
 ceeded in making myself a friend of yours, and that by some 
 unfortunate mistake we never were as well known to each other 
 as we might have been. Something came in the way. I did 
 not understand you -, very likely you did not understand me. 
 I know I am rough, and have my faults. Perhaps, if we had 
 both tried sincerely to be more at one, a hundred things might 
 not have happened. But that is all past." 
 
 Again this tone grated on Fermor. Had Hanbury said 
 merely that he could not understand Fermor, and that if he had 
 tried to do so, he could not, it would have been more deferential. 
 " I never try to understand any man," said Fermor, coldly. 
 " It is too much trouble. I take what is on the surface. But 
 this business, as you say what do you wish me to do for you ? " 
 John Hanbury shook his head, as though he said, "You will 
 not understand me." "Very well," he said: "it is about 
 yourself, Fermor. You know there are not many things in life 
 that I have much interest in now. The Manuels and their 
 happiness is all I think of. What they love and have loved, I 
 care for. There was one, Fermor, whom we knew, and whoso 
 dear memory we cling to, and it is for her sake, and for the sake 
 
 of what I know were her last wishes, that I now " 
 
 " I don't know what object you have," said Fermor, colour- 
 ing, " in making these allusions, or in bringing up this subject j 
 but I must tell you plainly I do not like to discuss it." 
 
 "This is the way," said John Hanbury, hopelessly. "I 
 always say more than I mean, and I know I am blunt and rough 
 in approaching subjects. But, Fermor, listen to me. I say I 
 would do anything for them. And you, Fermor, do not see the 
 world so much now at least, have not the opportunity of hear* 
 ing what I can hear. Do forgive me if I speak too plainly 3 but 
 
The Cloven Foot. 
 
 341 
 
 it is indeed for your interest. I don't know how to approach it, 
 and I am sure you will not like it, but I must speak. I know 
 it would be her wish. Mrs. Fermor is so gentle, so trustful, 
 so " 
 
 " Now, Mr. Hanbury," said Fermor, his voice trembling, " I 
 must request that this subject will not be pursued. You are, as 
 you say, well meaning, though unfortunate in your manner. I 
 don't want to hear about it. I don't want advice from any 
 man. 1 can manage my own house. Everybody seems to think 
 they can lecture me about my own concerns 5 and I tell you 
 again, 1 don't require it, and wont have it." 
 
 " But you don't know the danger," said Hanbury, desperately. 
 " You don't see what is coming. I know more than you think. 
 It is my duty to warn you, no matter how you may take k. 
 That Romaine, I tell you, is not the man to be so intimate at 
 your house, and you should look after it. Forgive me, but every 
 one is talking of it." 
 
 "Once more," said Fermor, excitedly, "I tell you to stop 
 this, Mr. Hanbury. I will not take it. So you wish to be an 
 adviser ? You must excuse me for saying that I shall not come 
 to you for assistance. Your counsels, as regards your own inte- 
 rest, have not been so very successful. 11 
 
 "No, indeed," said he, sadly 5 "you are right. But I must 
 tell you this, at all risks. I know your affairs. There is that 
 Sir John Westende : he is a dangerous man. You should go to 
 him, and conciliate him. Ask Lady Laura, and she will tell 
 you the same." 
 
 This was past endurance. 
 
 " You won't take a hint, Mr. Hanbury?" said he, struggling 
 to be calm. " Let me ask you, do you wish to quarrel, or to 
 hear something from me that I should be sorry to have said?" 
 
 " Oh, you shall not quarrel with me," said Hanbury, calmly, 
 and turning away. " Nothing that you could say," he added, 
 solemnly, " shall ever offend me. There are reasons why you 
 should be privileged. You seem blinded, Fermor : you will not 
 be guided j but I shall not desist. I shall help you in spite of 
 yourself." 
 
 The state he left Fermor in may be conceived. He always 
 felt agony under the sense of this air of what he took for supe- 
 rior patronage. 
 
 He then saw Romaine come over to Mrs. Fermor, and pitch 
 his chair close to hers, as it might be a tent. She was in a 
 corner, and Mr. Romaine's tent quite cut her off from the com- 
 
34* Never Forgotten. 
 
 pany. He then began to talk with great earnestness. Fermor's 
 falling on this new situation, and Fermor's memory suggesting 
 to him the stories the good-natured friend had told him, the 
 effect was as of scarlet cloth tossed and shaken before him. 
 
 " Look at Orson," said Mr. Romaine, moodily, "how he is 
 glaring at us?" 
 
 Mrs. Fermor looked up innocently, but did not see which face 
 he meant. 
 
 "Orson?" she said; "whom do you call by that ugly 
 name? " 
 
 " Don't you see," he said, "your conjugal Orson ? You know 
 what I mean." 
 
 Mrs. Fermor, colouring as she always did, moved back her 
 chair a little, and half rose. 
 
 "You can't mean that" she said ; "I am sure not. At least, 
 if you do, I must go to the person you mention so disrespect- 
 fully." 
 
 "Exactly/ 1 he said, without moving. "Always the way 
 every little idle word caught up and registered. Why, I call 
 every husband Orson. What are they all but Orsons brutes 
 irreclaimable savages? What am I myself? And what do you 
 think me in your heart of hearts, but a wild, untamed Orson, 
 fresh from the woods?" 
 
 Mrs. Fermor felt a twinge. She felt for this poor rude man, 
 who had no friends ; no kith nor kin, and who was grateful for 
 a little sympathy, and over whom she held such a secret power. 
 So she said, quickly, " No, no, I don't agree to that. You are 
 not quite so bad." 
 
 " How good you are ! " he said, with grateful eyes. "I am 
 but an acquaintance, but those who know you better, how they 
 must appreciate $ for instance, your husband, whom I so thought- 
 lessly and irreverently called ' Orson.' How he must prize and 
 cherish, how ' uxorious ' is not that the word? he must be, 
 even to fatigue ; he must play the doting husband to perfection ! 
 Eh?" 
 
 Again the old doubting look came on Mrs. Fermor's face. 
 She did not answer. A pink, handsome, and rather foolish face 
 then came to Mr. Romaine, and said 
 
 " I say, Romaine, why don't you come ? My wife has sent 
 me for you. She has all sorts of secrets, and has been signalling 
 this half-hour." 
 
 Romaine threw Mrs. Fermor a look of significance, as who 
 should say, "You see." He stooped over and said, in a low 
 
The Cloven Foot. 
 
 343 
 
 voice, " Do you know what is behind all this ? Riding to- 
 morrow in the Park a pic-nic the day after then a three 
 weeks' visit down at Massinger. They are filling their house, 
 and she says they can't get on without me. These are the little 
 secrets. Give a poor outcast your advice come." 
 
 Mrs. Fermor, with glowing cheeks, could not restrain her 
 little smile of pride. She had the bold dangerous man com- 
 pletely in her power, to mould him for his own good. " You 
 will not go," she said. " You must not go j at least, I have no 
 influence, I know, but " 
 
 " No influence ! " he said, and paused. " Well, I say nothing 
 of that. They will have their plays ' amateur theatricals ' as 
 tney call them. They will make me the ' premier amoureux.' 
 Why, even that donkey Spendlesham is getting them up. 
 Tableaux, he calls them. They are to have you. He has just 
 asked me. Ah ! you could act! What parts shall we choose 
 Alexander and the two Queens, or Petrarch and his Laura ? " 
 
 A little bewildered at this rambling speech, Mrs. Fermor 
 could only say, " Oh no, indeed I could not." 
 
 " You no influence ? " he went on. " Yes, you have. I 
 confess it. I have felt it for weeks back growing steadily every 
 day. I cannot trust myself, but I can trust you. Don't think 
 that your life is not known to me, and that I do not feel for 
 you. 7 know what goes on in your house. I know and for- 
 give me for saying so that there has been one more fatal 
 mistake added to the tremendous list of mistakes, now nearly 
 full " 
 
 "Mr. Romaine,*' she began, much frightened. 
 
 tf Stay. I confess," he went on, " at first I met you with 
 that indifference which I feel for every woman. But this has 
 been wearing away. It is altogether worn away now. Oh, you 
 might do much with me much more than you have done. 
 But things cannot go on always as they go on now. My heart 
 burns to see one that I call Orson so cold and neglectful, when 
 there is one as you know and understand " 
 
 " I do understand," said she, in a perfect tumult of terror and 
 surprise, and trembling with agitation. " At last Oh, let me 
 out let me go ! You should not have done this, Mr. Romaine 
 for shame, for shame ! Oh, let me out quick let me 
 pass! " 
 
 He never moved. " That is well done," he said calmly. 
 " Now I go on. ' O lovely Laura ! what rage in those flashing 
 eyes I You cannot conceal the flutterings of your heart/ and so 
 
344 Never Forgotten. 
 
 on We shall do it very well together on Spendlesham'a 
 
 boards." 
 
 For a moment she was astounded at this readiness and cool- 
 ness; but in another moment the earnestness of his first speech 
 came back upon her, and she said again, " Oh, for shame, for 
 shame ! It was very cruel of you ! Oh, what do you mean ? 
 Now let me go 5 and you must never, never speak to me 
 again." 
 
 At this moment Fermor came striding up. He had been 
 looking on. He pushed past Romaine rather rudely, put out 
 his arm for his wife, and said, in a fierce whisper, " Come away 
 at once. You are making me the talk of the room. Come at 
 once. Come home. You shall answer to me for this ! " 
 
 The little woman, so warm and impetuous, had behaved 
 nobly and chivalrously, as she fancied. She was firmly deter- 
 mined never to open her lips to Romaine again ; and yet this 
 was her reward ! 
 
 Fermor saw the resentment in her face. "I suppose you 
 mean to brave me here, before all these people ? " He was 
 beside himself with rage. "Come away, I say have at least 
 some semblance of respect and decency." 
 
 " Respect and decency ! " said Romaine, laughing. " What 
 odd words you use, Fermor ! " 
 
 "Would you allow us to go by?" said Fermor, with forced 
 politeness. 
 
 "With all my heart," said the other. "But you gave us 
 such a start. We were talking of such interesting things. Eut 
 all secrets, remember, Mrs. Fermor, or your husband will have 
 me out the first thing in the morning." 
 
 This, though spoken gaily, contained a hint for Mrs. Fermor, 
 which she could not but take. 
 
 Fermor made no reply, but hurried her down-stairs. " We 
 must see about this," he said, under his breath, "and settle the 
 thing one way or the other. You are at perfect liberty to 
 consult your own reputation as you please, but I am determined 
 I shall not be made the laughing-stock of the town. / am not 
 to be compromised." 
 
 He felt her arm trembling on his, but she said nothing. Here 
 was injustice monstrous, killing injustice. Something like the 
 shade of a blight flashed across her. 
 
 As they went home in the little dark brougham, there was 
 one of the old stormy miserable scenes. "You can have no 
 respect for me, and none for yourself," said the little woman, 
 
The Cloven Foot. 343 
 
 trembling, "to say such things publicly.*' She was about to 
 add, "If you only knew 5" but she was checked, for she felt 
 that she dare not even hint at Romaine's behaviour. " You 
 never speak to me kindly; you never take me anywhere 5 you 
 never encourage, never protect me, as I see other husbands treat 
 their wives. No, but you are too cold, and care for nothing in 
 the wide world but for yourself. As, indeed, Mr. Romaine 
 says" and she was about to quote that speech of his about 
 "fatal mistakes," but she stopped in alarm. 
 
 " Go on," said he, with forced calmness; "pray tell us what 
 Mr. Romaine says. So it is come to this," he said, with a new 
 burst. " But it serves me right. They warned me in time, but 
 I, foolishly, would not listen." 
 
 With quivering lip Mrs. Fermor retorted she was very quick 
 of temper, it must be repeated " And I was warned too. But 
 I should like to know who has gained most by the affair. I tell 
 you, you will not dispose of me as you did of others. My heart 
 ihall not be broken, nor shall I wear myself into the grave to 
 suit your plans." 
 
 "No fear, indeed," said he, with a trembling voice. " She 
 was an angel, a gentle, quiet, sweet angel. God forgive me for 
 that crime, it was the great mistake of my life. I did not know 
 what I was doing. I must have been mad." 
 
 "And you speak of it in this way to me," said Mrs. Fermor, 
 beside her little wits, from grief, and wounded vanity, and rage. 
 "Ah ! you, will tell me, next, that you married me for papa's 
 money. Go on and finish ; we may as well hear it all out now ! " 
 
 " Suppose I say I did," replied he, unable to resist the taunt; 
 it was now a battle a outrance. " Suppose I say that I did. It 
 was what they called a good match. It is not the first thing of 
 the kind that has been done ! It was an unfortunate day for 
 me, God knows! I might have been happy and peaceful now 
 in my proper station in society which I have lost, instead of 
 
 being Confusion ! " he added, in a fresh burst, as he 
 
 thought of all his wrongs and insults. " I have been a fool and 
 a madman ! But I tell you I shall see to all this, and it shall 
 be changed. They shan't point to me as a cipher, nor shall any 
 of the rude low admirers you choose to encourage make me 
 their butt. Never! " he added, vehemently. " So take care 
 I insist and require and command that you never exchange a 
 word in future with that man Romaine." 
 
 " How dare you speak in this way to me ? " said she, 
 hysterically. 
 
346 Never Forgotten. 
 
 " Mind what I have told you ; and I shall see that you do 
 what you are told. I want no argument." 
 
 "Ah ! then, we shall see/' said Mrs. Fermor, with defiance. 
 
 Not a word more was spoken on that dismal passage home. 
 When they entered, she flew upstairs, and rushed into her 
 father's room. 
 
 CHAPTER THE SIXTY-SECOND. 
 
 A DISCOVERY. 
 
 ^j-RIM Mr. Carlay was reading when his daughter entered, 
 and flung herself down at his knees, sobbing^ and crying 
 hysterically. Her rich long hair had broken from all fastening, 
 and came tumbling about her in a shower. 
 
 "My heart is breaking," she said; "help me, papa. He is 
 killing me ! " 
 
 A spasm of pain passed over his face for a moment, and he 
 drew a deep sigh. 
 
 " My poor child," he said, with wonderful affection for so 
 grim a being. " The old story ; I knew it was hurrying on to 
 this. We try every one else, and, after all, we come back to the 
 old father or mother." 
 
 "But oh!" continued she, "he has dared to slander me j 
 to insult me publicly. He is killing me. This very night " 
 
 "I understand," said he. "I know it all. I have at last 
 come to know him thoroughly. He is a wretch without a 
 heart ; faithless and unworthy of you and your affection." 
 
 " He has insulted me ! " she said, starting up. " I shall never 
 forget it. I shall never forgive it. If he only knew that at the 
 very instant he was accusing me at that moment I was 
 behaving in a way that he should have been proud of ! But let he 
 himself take care. He talks about being sensitive of his own 
 reputation, and about being pointed at. I say, papa, let him 
 take care ! " 
 
 "These are no discoveries to me," said her father, sadly. 
 
 "Ah ! then why," said she, "why did you let me be sacri- 
 ficed ? He tells me now, openly, that it was your money he 
 wanted, and that he sold himself. Ah ! why did you allow this 
 sale, if you knew so much, papa ? " 
 
A Discovery. 347 
 
 " My darling," said he, " I thought your heart was set upon 
 it, and I wished to gratify you in every way. I was foolish* 
 stupid; but," said he, rising and stalking to the door, "it is not 
 too late yet. I have worse to tell you, darling $ things which it 
 is right that you should know things that I have discovered. 
 For I have not been shut up all day and night among musty 
 books. I have been searching, watching spying, some would 
 say but all for you." 
 
 " Yes," said she, eagerly ; " tell me all, papa ! " 
 
 He went on hurriedly 
 
 " I suspected him from the beginning. Men do not forsake 
 their homes, and always be found abroad, or be harsh to their 
 wives, without some outside reason. I know the world pretty 
 well. These things repeat each other every day and every hour. 
 What would you say if that friend of your heart that bright, 
 noble Miss Manuel the heroine whom you watched in sick- 
 ness, and have almost worshipped, who has kissed you, as you 
 told me, over and over again " 
 
 Mrs. Fermor started back. "Impossible!" she said. "You 
 don't know her, father. What has she done, then ? " 
 
 " She is your enemy. I know it. I swear it. She it is who 
 has drawn away your husband from you. This is the secret of 
 his absences. She has been trading on the old miserable vanity 
 with which he is stuffed. He has been there day after day. 
 On nights, when he was away till three and four, he was at her 
 suppers. He was watching for her in the Parks, hanging about 
 her street, about her carriage. And all because she made some 
 speech that has set his pride rampant. And she your friend, 
 whom you almost saved from death. In this way she repays 
 you !" 
 
 Mrs. Fermor was looking at him quite scared. " Impossible ! 
 Oh no, no," she said, in a low voice, and drawing back; "you 
 don't know her." 
 
 "Ah, see, my darling! " he said, catching her by the hand. 
 " How could she like you? You are in her sister's place. It is 
 not in human nature. Better to know the worst. Look here!" 
 and he opened his desk, and took out some half a dozen letters, 
 which he opened slowly, one after the other. " Is this her 
 writing? Look," and he showed her first that old letter of Miss 
 Manuel's, in which she had invited Fermor to her supper, and 
 then others in the same strain ; notes, notelets, long, short ; on 
 large paper, on small paper, and on tiny scraps, signed only with 
 initials 5 all the tokens, in short, of an intimate relation. " Here 
 
348 Ne*jer Forgotten. 
 
 are answers/' he went on, " and you will know this hand.** And 
 he spread out Fermor's notes in the same way. Mrs. Fermor 
 looked from one to the other of them, and back again, very 
 wildly and distractedly. "This is," he said, "what the world 
 would call shabby and dishonourable. But I love my child and 
 her happiness, and scruple at nothing to effect that." 
 
 " My happiness !" she said, sadly. 
 
 "Yes, your happiness," he answered, quickly $ " it will all lead 
 to that. The first step is knowing the worst. The next is, to 
 look out for a remedy : and we must have done with this man 
 done with him for ever." 
 
 " Done with him for ever?" she repeated, mechanically. 
 
 "Yes," he said ; "he is unworthy of you. We shall leave 
 this miserable country, and leave him. It was a wretched mis- 
 take from the very beginning. Once freed from him, we shall 
 begin to be happy together again. You will get ill, my child ; 
 already I find your cheeks pale and worn. Abroad, there is joy 
 and happiness and comfort in store for us yet. If you remain, 
 you die." 
 
 " Leave him and here with her ? Never, papa, never, while 
 Hive!" 
 
 " He is not worth a thought," said he, hastily. " We must 
 go. It is the only course." 
 
 "And leave him behind free from me, whom he hates, to 
 enjoy himself, and leave her no punishment? Never, papa. 
 Ah ! let me stay and die." 
 
 " Who knows? " said her father, gloomily ; "we may punish 
 him before we leave. But all in good time ; depend on it, the 
 guilty shall not escape." 
 
 "And oh !" burst out Mrs. Fermor, giving way suddenly to 
 a paroxysm of tears, " she, that woman whom I tried to make 
 my friend j whom I loved ! " 
 
 CHAPTER THE SIXTY-THIRD. 
 
 " OLD FOLEY.** 
 
 QIR JOHN WESTENDE, though a squire, was crafty enough 
 in his generation. He thought Miss Manuel's counsel good 
 to the secresy, and did not show his hand too soon. He was 
 
 as 
 
" Old Foley" 349 
 
 even friendly with his nephew, and said to him in his rough 
 way, "Well, if you wilt make a born ass of yourself, you must." 
 But at home he indemnified himself by swearing and railing at 
 his daughters, telling them they were " a hopeless, helpless 
 pack," and that he was "sick of the whole lot;" ending gene- 
 rally with a violent question as to " what were they staring at 
 him in that way for ? ' and finally bidding them " get out of his 
 sight, for he couldn't stand them! " And the poor frightened 
 motherless girls, who had this paternal food served to them every 
 day, with the regularity of meals, fled away from his presence 
 like a flock of sheep from the shepherd's dog. 
 
 Lady Laura, too, had a consciousness of a danger. For the 
 first time in her life, she began to give way to a sense of hope- 
 lessness, and to give entrance to the grim and gloomy visitors 
 called forebodings. As she turned round to north, south, east, 
 and west successively, and saw the passage growing blocked in 
 each direction, she began to feel sudden sinkings of the heart, 
 for the first time during her fifty or sixty years' struggle. These, 
 however, might have been the natural weakness of coming age. 
 She had fought, suffered, and received such cruel scars, that it 
 was no wonder she should feel pains. 
 
 From the first she had divined the opposition from Sir John 
 Westende, and had tried to bring him over. But she well knew 
 he had never forgiven her not so much for the mortification as 
 for the years of tyranny which she had indirectly brought on 
 him. For he was one of those ferocious wild animals who roar, 
 and tear, and even devour the spectators, but who are surprisingly 
 tame and docile under the eye of the keeper. She even tried 
 to stir the cold ashes of the old romance with her fan, and let a 
 few of the white particles float in the air, but this she saw was 
 only a further stimulant. She then wisely gave up all attempts 
 at conciliation, and determined for fighting in the open field. 
 
 He went to consult Miss Manuel again. He burst into his 
 old complaints. "Is it not shameful?" he said. "There 
 should be an Act of Parliament to protect boys against these 
 women. I'll show the whole system up, if I die for it. On my 
 soul, I believe she will put him in a coach some night, and 
 marry him before the child knows what he is doing. The worst 
 is, I don't see my way. Can you think of something?" 
 
 Miss Manuel thought a moment. " You know Sir Hopkins 
 Pocock ? " she said. " Very well. A wretched, restless, agitating 
 creature, who would sell his soul for place. Go to him, and talk 
 of your influence. Th?t private family 'skeleton we spoke of 
 
35 Never Forgotten. 
 
 the other day," she said, smiling, "is in some museum, in the 
 country somewhere. It has been smuggled away, but can be 
 recovered." 
 
 Sir John, a country gentleman, did not quite follow. " What 
 d'ye mean about the skeletons?" he said. 
 
 "I mean," said Miss Manuel, "the little secret story you 
 hinted at the other day. It may be worth nothing: but still, 
 where the interest of a child, your ward, is concerned, every- 
 thing is fair. You might use this as a lever." 
 
 "A lever! yes," said Sir John, still doubtful ; "but where 
 did you get about the skeleton ? " 
 
 "A mere figure of speech," said she ; " a way people have of 
 talking. Or stay," she said 5 "there is Major Carter, who knows 
 all the world, and is flattered by attention. Ask him to dine, 
 and he may help you." 
 
 Sir John Westende took both courses. From Sir Hopkins, 
 who cringed to him with senile homage, he heard of an old 
 Peninsular colonel whom he himself had known, and Major 
 Carter, who knew all the v/orld, was likely enough to have 
 fallen in with him. 
 
 "If I could only light on that old Foley now," he thought. 
 " He knows and knew everything, and every story. But he is 
 dead long agoj had to live at some of those wretched half-pay 
 French foreigneering places." (Sir John took the true squire's 
 view of Boulogne and other foreign ports, as being solely created 
 for English gentlemen of limited means.) He asked Major 
 Carter about it. 
 
 " The old colonel dead ? " said the major. " Not he I Lives 
 at Dunkirk, of all places in the world 1 But he says he gets his 
 rubber there. He was here last week, but has gone back, I am 
 afraid. The colonel's purse is not very deep unless, indeed, he 
 has made something out of his whist here. Shall we go and see 
 him, Sir John ? By the way, I forget. Did you know him ? " 
 
 "Not met him for years," said Sir John. "But I have a 
 particular reason for wishing to meet him now." Then he told 
 Major Carter (whom he said he saw was "a man of the world") 
 what this reason was. 
 
 " Just the man !" cried the major. "You have a surprising 
 instinct, Sir John ! Why, he could write a book, the most 
 delightful work of our times, all the scandal, all the divorces, all 
 the esclandres the true history, you understand, Sir John! He 
 has them all at his fingers' ends. It would be the most fascinat- 
 ing book." 
 
"OldFoley." $$i 
 
 The old Peninsular colonel must have made profit out of his 
 whist ; for he was still in Town, in the bay-window of his club, 
 with his newspaper attached to a stick, which he handled as if 
 he were a pointsman signalling a train. He had a very large 
 hat on. The blood in his face was so marbled and extravasated 
 that it seemed as if made out of good Bologna sausage ; while 
 his stock was so stiff and straight that it seemed as if he were 
 always looking out of an iron chimney-pot after having newly 
 swept a gigantic chimney. He was glad to see Carter, and was 
 glad to see Carter's friend, for he had just done with his points- 
 man's flag, and was thinking of sherry. " Have something? " 
 he said. "No?" And having " had something" himself, the 
 marbled Bologna sausage surface seemed to become illuminated 
 from within, and glowed. 
 
 The major very soon led them across France into the Penin- 
 sula, and took them back some thirty or forty years, and called 
 up Lord Wellington, and Pack, and Beresford, and that 
 "chicken-hearted" scoundrel, Joseph. "Why, dammy ! " 
 roared the colonel, the Bologna sausage distending alarmingly, 
 "we had a little drummer that would have stood up to him, 
 and made him run." 
 
 " You had queer days in Madrid that time, colonel," said the 
 major. 
 
 " Ay, ay," said the Peninsular colonel, " both then and later. 
 I was there in 'twenty-five, too, and met some of the old set. 
 What times we had, sir! Dammy, sir, there are no men on 
 earth now. No men, sir, with real heads and stomachs. They 
 don't know how to drink! It ain't life now; at least, it ain't 
 life as it used to be " then added the colonel, as a dropping 
 shot after a volley " dammy ! " 
 
 "The colonel," said Major Carter to Sir John, with great 
 approbation, " knows, and has seen a great deal. It is really 
 instructive to hear him." 
 
 " Bless you!" said Colonel Foley (using the benediction pre- 
 cisely in the same meaning as he did his favourite malediction) 
 " Bless you ! I could tell you stories by the yard ! Ay, sir ! and 
 stories that would take your wind away, sir; and, sir, about 
 some of the ve-ry first families in the country," added he, 
 stooping forward, and speaking slow ; " the very first. Ay, sir, 
 and some of your fine high women," he continued, glowing at 
 the recollection of some neglect, " who now give themselves 
 airs ; I could have them at my knees, crying, ' For God's sake, 
 don't expose us ! Dammy, colonel, don't J ' ' 
 
35 ^ Never Forgotten. 
 
 " Did you ever/' said Sir John, a little impatient at the 
 colonel's reminiscences, "fall in with a person called Fermor? " 
 " Fermor ? Fermor ? " said the colonel, searching his memory. 
 " Ah, to be sure ! I suppose I didn't know Lady Laura a fine 
 spanking creature she was! I could tell you some of her 
 games. By the Lord, sir, the night of the fresco business down 
 at the what-d'ye-call-'em villa on the Thames, and we had the 
 walks lit up, excepting the arbour, which was forgotten, dammy, 
 sir, if I didn't " 
 
 Major Carter here nervously interposed, "Our friend, Sir John, 
 is connected, I believe " 
 
 "No, no," said Sir John, hotly. "I have nothing to say to 
 them. And I don't care what is said of them. There was a 
 story, Colonel Foley, some thirty years ago $ as a club man you 
 knew it we all knew it 5 I should know it myself, but some- 
 how my memory does not help me now. I want to find that 
 story. You remember a scampish fellow they had among them, 
 Fermor' s brother, that went to the dogs ? " 
 
 "All! you're right, you're right," said Colonel Foley, with 
 great enjoyment. " Ah, Jack Fermor, I knew him, sir ! I once 
 lent him ten pounds, and dammy, sir, if I wasn't the only man 
 he ever paid " 
 
 " But what was the business ? " asked Sir John, impatiently 5 
 "it was cushioned in some wonderful way." 
 
 "Bless your soul," said the colonel, with the same absence of 
 spiritual meaning, " that was her, all her ! She managed the 
 whole of it. She had the spirit of ten men. Did you ever know 
 that she went over herself, and settled it all ? " 
 
 "Ah ! " said Sir John, with great interest, " that was the way 
 it never got out." 
 
 "Exactly, sir. It was the middle of winter, too, with ice, 
 sir, as thick as that book, sir," pointing to a London Directory. 
 " And up-on my soul, sir, she was expecting to be confined of 
 her first child. That I know. And I call that a fine plucky, 
 spanking thing of her. As for the quiet sneak Fermor she 
 married, he wasn't fit to sweep that crossing, sir." 
 
 " He was a poor creature,' said Sir John, cordially. 
 
 " She settled the whole business, sir. Saw the consuls, 
 ministers, every man Jack of them, talked to them, bought 
 them seventeen and sixpence went a long way then in those 
 foreigneering courts-~and brought off her man ! What was 
 better, sir, not a soul could make out what it was all- about." 
 
 "Precisely," said Sir John, "/never could get at it." 
 
Colonel Fotey's Reminiscences. 353 
 
 " That was he?*, you see/' said the colonel. " If I didn't 
 admire her for it ! I was one of the few that knew about the 
 business, and, dammy, if she didn't bring me round round and 
 round again, sir. Now, is she going on still ? " 
 
 "What did I tell you, Sir John?" said Major Carter, in 
 delight. " Is not the colonel pleasant ? We ought to get him 
 to come and fix a day before he goes back to Dunkirk." 
 
 " Ah, yes," said Sir John, eagerly, " the very thing. You 
 must dine with me, colonel -, a little snug private dinner only 
 ourselves." 
 
 te Dammy," said the colonel, " how gluey I feel ! They 
 swindle us 'at this place with their infernal bottles they don't 
 half fill 'em. Here, waiter, soda. They keep the worst lot of 
 servants in the kingdom. Well, where was I ? I could talk 
 this way until midnight. Here, you ! bring that after me to the 
 smoking-room. You don't mind coming there, eh ? " 
 
 Sir John was a man of business, and had his time pretty well 
 filled up. " I tell you what, colonel," he said, looking at his 
 watch, " dine with me to-day you and Carter here at my 
 club. A snug little thing. Only ourselves." 
 
 " I will, upon my soul," said the colonel, eagerly, and almost 
 ferociously. "That will be more like it. Good Lord!" he 
 said, by no means conscious of any devotional appeal, "what 
 things I conld tell you, if I only could collect my wits. Talk 
 of old What's-his-name's Recollections, which I'm told they're 
 all reading now ! Why, dammy, I could beat him against a 
 wall, story for story. Why, they're nothing but slops, mere 
 slops, sir." 
 
 CHAPTER THE SIXTY-FOURTH. 
 
 COLONEL FOLEY'S REMINISCENCES. 
 
 evening, at Sir John's club the Country Gentleman's 
 which, the colonel said, he was glad to see had none of 
 their "eternally lost" gewgaw "sugar-stick" stuck over it 
 inside and out none of \oiir f * sickening theatrical scene- 
 shifting places all windows/' where y;it caught your death of 
 cold, but a snug, old-fashioned place, where all the high-priced 
 
 A A 
 
354 Never Forgotten. 
 
 papers were taken in, and where brass buttons and yellow 
 trousers were familiar to the eye! at this club, then, in a 
 private room, the three gentlemen had a pleasant little dinner. 
 
 "This is something like," said the colonel. "I call this a 
 place for a gentleman \ Dammy, I don't want to be stuck up 
 in a plate-glass case, like a dried fish in a museum, so that the 
 people in the streets may stare up at you. I don't call that' sort 
 of thing a club. And the stuff they give you ! You might 
 as well put a file down my throat as the liquor we had to-day." 
 Which community in the participation of the brandy was a 
 pardonable delusion on the colonel's part. 
 
 He was very amusing, this old colonel. But some of his 
 stories were frightful. He did not deal in what he called "slops." 
 Men and women widows, virgins, and wives he slaughtered 
 wholesale like the great Human Sacrifices at Dahome. Later 
 he came back to the subject of the morning. 
 
 " I never saw such a wild scamp of a creature as that Fermor. 
 Our wine merchant indeed, everybody's wine merchant ; and 
 gave capital wine, I must say. Gave more for nothing than he 
 did for money. No fellows were entertained better. That was 
 'twenty or 'twenty-five. Let me see, now, which was it, 
 dammy?" and the Peninsular colonel began to ruminate over 
 this point, for his old memory, like his old eyes, was getting 
 very dim. " 'Twenty-five it was. I have it now, the year I 
 got my captaincy (Sergeant, who was before me, was shot in a 
 duel by the Spanish minister's son). Well, that Fermor soon, 
 as you may imagine, found the wine business not to answer. He 
 was so extravagant nothing could stand him and as wild as a 
 hare. Very thick with the governor, and the governor's wife, 
 too a fine woman, though, but so stuck up, you know- 
 dammy," said the colonel, excited by the memory of repulse, 
 " there was no going within a mile of her. Why, I dined there 
 four days in the week. Well, when I came back again, dammy 
 if the wine business hadn't all broken up -, and what do you 
 suppose my friend was at, eh, now? What do you say, now ? " 
 
 Neither Carter nor Sir John could say : nor, if they could, 
 would they. 
 
 " Why, he had set up a little play ; nothing short of that. 
 Instead of the wine, we got you understand cards and chicken 
 hazard. It was great fun. He got a lot of money out of us. 
 He made it pay, sir. But there was always plenty to eat and 
 drink, too. I never enjoyed myself so much." 
 
 Again the colonel took in sherry, and again tbtf colonel's 
 
Colonel Foley's Reminiscences. % $$ 
 
 cheeks fired out with the suddenness of the illumination of St. 
 Peter's at Rome. 
 
 "Where was I? Well, Jack Fermor went ahead. There 
 were some businesses took place, I can tell you. Bless you, I 
 could sit here until midnight, and be not half done. There was 
 a good pigeoning in fact (of course excepting some old friends 
 like myself), it was all pigeoning. That was the way young 
 Ascot Price was finished off. They got five thousand out of him, 
 and he shot himself next day. Oh, Jack Fermor, he was a 
 wonderful scamp ! Wonderful ! " 
 
 There was a tinge of regret h* the tone with which the 
 colonel spoke of his old friend regret mingled with admiration 
 at perhaps the general ill success of such gifts. 
 
 "Dammy," said the colonel, apologetically, " I believe it was 
 a queer state of things from beginning to end ; but, you see, 
 there was nothing on the surface a gentleman could object to, 
 and it seemed all quite square. A gentleman must find some 
 way of filling up his time in a place like that." 
 
 Vice having paid this little act of grateful homage to Virtue, 
 the colonel went on 
 
 "But if Jack ' was a lad,' " went on the colonel, "what do 
 you suppose his friend was ? Now, what do you suppose his 
 friend was?" No one, of course, could say. "We were a 
 queer lot out at that time, I can tell you. I suppose never was 
 there such a set got together since the days of Babylon !" (Sir 
 John shivered a little at this unpleasant allusion.) " Well, sir, 
 he had a friend a quiet soul, with a wife and three little 
 children, a decent, quiet, thoroughly good fellow, in the wine 
 business too 5 and, dammy ! if he didn't want to stay quietly in 
 his wine, if he was only let. But he wasn't. Jack Fermor, sir, 
 had a trick of making other fellows as like himself as two peas. 
 Well, sir, this quiet sheep of a Manuel " 
 
 "Manuel!" said Carter, starting. 
 
 " Manuel !" said Sir John, thinking of Miss Manuel ; ft how 
 odd!" 
 
 " Didn't I tell you ? What's odd ?" said the colonel. " But 
 it was odder when Jack got this creature well into his hands, 
 and got his money and his savings into his hands too. He did 
 it uncommon clever, did Jack. He was training him, he said. 
 Well, there was another man," he went on, "who came out 
 there on business, who had a young girl of a wife, whom he was 
 $o fond of Dammy," said the colonel, laughing, "how we used 
 to laugh at him ! He was a Scotchman, and set up to be a 
 
356" Never Forgotten. 
 
 cautious, quiet, calculating rascal. But I used to go and see 
 him very often, and so used our set, for reasons that you will 
 perhaps understand. Eh! What d'ye say ?" 
 
 And the colonel here half-closed one of his odious old eyes 
 with exquisite meaning. 
 
 " There was about twenty years between him and this child 
 he called his wife. She might have been his daughter five times 
 over : so what do you suppose this stupid set himself to do ? 
 Why, he set up for being the old fellow, the fatherly dodge, and 
 kept trying to amuse her in every way, and kept coming to us 
 and bothering ' Now do come and see that poor child, and talk 
 to her. She wants amusement, and I don't know how to amuse 
 her.' And didn't we go ? O, not at all." And here again the 
 Peninsular half-closed his odious old eye with extraordinary sig- 
 nificance. "And one day," he went on, "we took it into our 
 heads to bring that wild scamp Jack Fermor. And Jack Fermor 
 took it into his head one day to bring our soft friend Manuel. 
 And our soft friend leaving his own lady, and his two girls and 
 one boy, at home came very often to talk to her. Do you see 
 what is coming now ?" 
 
 The major did, or conveyed by his manner that he did. Sir 
 John did not quite follow. 
 
 "He was the queerest young old fellow I ever saw, this 
 Dr. Meadows (that was the Scotchman's name). He must have 
 been close to forty then, and as stiff and hard as a ramrod. We 
 never saw him bend, and we used to call him f Roddy Meadows.' 
 But it was plain that he was wild about the little white child he 
 called his wife infatuated, in fact $ and it was plain, too, that 
 the little chit did not care particularly for him. I may say, 
 without vanity, she liked the company of your humble servant a 
 dea-side deal better," added the colonel, with his favourite 
 objectionable motion of his eye. "A lot of us used to come and 
 sit with her for hours, and make her laugh ; and I must say your 
 humble servant didn't sit for the shortest time ; no, nor he 
 didn't drive out now and then, and walk a little on what they 
 call their Prado ! Ah ! sir, those were the days for real life. 
 
 "Well, sir, I know the game old Roddy Meadows was at. It 
 was the gratitude dodge, and the regard, you know, ripening, 
 as they call it, into affection. I have seen life," said the colonel, 
 laughing heartily, "and I never met that sort of ripening yet. 
 It didn't ripen with him, my boy, at any rate 5 but," added the 
 colonel, with a dramatic slowness and significance, "it was 
 ripening with somebody else. O, I could go on from this till 
 
Colonel Foley's Rem'miscences. 3^7 
 
 morning about those days. There's nothing like them now. 
 These ain't what you can call days ! As for that fellow who 
 writes books about Recollections" (this was always an irritant 
 with the colonel), " what can he have to tell, dammy ? Stirabout, 
 sir ! Tapioca ! Gruel, gruel, sir ! Ah ! " said the colonel, looking 
 almost ill with disgust, "how I hate such slops !" 
 
 Most of the colonel's friends knew that about this period he 
 strengthened the weaker portions of his conversation with oaths 
 more strong and frequent. They were a relief, and sent him on 
 the faster. 
 
 " Well, about that scamp Fermor. He was soon at the end 
 of his tether. He had got all he could get, all that was to be 
 
 begged, or borrowed, or No," said the colonel, closing the 
 
 eye that was in liquor with some difficulty, but with a grotesque 
 humour " no -, he was now coming to that." 
 
 "I see," said Carter, smiling. 
 
 'Sir John, being a country gentleman, did not see nearly so 
 quickly. " Coming to what ?" 
 
 "Dammy!" Colonel Foley went on, "if I believe he had 
 only the coat on his back left. He was always in and out of 
 the Scotch fellow's house. I believe he got round the creature 
 a good bit, and got some dollars out of him. As for the Scotch 
 doctor's money, I needn't tell you, who are a man of the world, 
 Carter" (Sir John moved a little uneasily in his chair at this 
 rather pointed exclusion of himself from that class), " that he 
 was not likely to pay that up in a hurry. And why the devil 
 
 should he ? But the worst was, he didn't stop there This 
 
 sherry, here, is like mother's milk to me. I am scalded with 
 the stuff they give us at Dunkirk. As for their clarets and ' ordi- 
 nary,' by the Lord, sir, it really scrapes me here here, sir," said 
 the colonel, laying his palm on his watch-chain. " Well, to be 
 short about it, the Scotch fellow, who had gone to the country 
 and wasn't to be back for a week, came back one night quite 
 
 suddenly, and found Now, what d'ye suppose he found? ' 
 
 And the colonel, stretching over for what he had called mother's 
 milk, leisurely filled himself a great glass, as it were to fill up 
 the time while the others were busy speculating. " By Jove ! 
 if he didn't find our friend Jack at his desk, stuffing his waistcoat 
 with his notes and gold. Flat burglary, sir ! All regularly 
 planned ! A most outrageous business. You see it was flag- 
 delic; no getting over it. There was the real awkwardness." 
 
 "And this was Fermor?" asked Sir John, eagerly. 
 
 " No one else. The Scotchman had him pinned by the throat 
 
358 Never Forgotten. 
 
 in a second, and was calling in the watch. But the other was 
 on his marrowbones whining for mercy, and I think the Scotch- 
 man would have killed him. But and here was the best of 
 this co?z-founded joke; I declare I went near to bursting with 
 laughter when I heard it" (and his sausage skin went near to 
 rupture at the bare recollection) " Jack, with wonderful pre- 
 sence of mind,, said if he would let him off, he would tell him 
 something about his wife. He didn't know at the moment that 
 something else had been packed up and carried off, you see !" 
 added the colonel, making his jelly eye tumble backwards and 
 forwards with extraordinary meaning. " But he did in an hour. 
 Dammy, sir, if that smooth pious fellow Manuel hadn't gone off 
 with the wife ! and had her waiting ready at an inn outside the 
 town. A few of the longheads had a notion of what was 
 coming." And the colonel hinted with his awful old eye that 
 he was one of these. " It was very bad," he went on, " very bad j 
 for you see Manuel left his own wife and three children, and I 
 must say," added the colonel, in a tone of moral censure, "he 
 had no excuse, literally, no excuse. Positively a fine woman. 
 Well, when the Scotchman found all this out, he was near going 
 mad. I never saw such ridiculous nonsense. ' Dammy,' I said 
 to him, ' what are you about } Don't make a snivelling donkey 
 of yourself before the town. Take my advice, and say nothing 
 about the business.' But no. I believe he wanted to cut the 
 fellow's throat, and his own afterwards. He went after him for a 
 week, hunted him, caught him, and brought him back. I think 
 he wanted to cut him up into collops, and fry him slowly. Sir, 
 you don't know what that family owes to me, and how they 
 treated me ! Who was it brought them through that business, 
 that kept the thing quiet and comfortable, but Tom Foley, and 
 perhaps Johnny Adams ? The fool would have gone into the 
 street, and poked his injuries into any man's face. I never met 
 such a born donkey. I kept the thing down, and wrote to his 
 relations. He swore he would have the lives of the two and 
 clapped them into jail. I declare to you, that gamey woman, 
 Lady Laura, was out with us in a week, with the ice like half a 
 foot of cold iron on the ground. Yet the fellow was no relation 
 of hers, you see no more to her than Adam. And rip-on my 
 salvation, sir," added the colonel, mysteriously, " Sir Thomas 
 Dick, the Queen's own medical fellow, told me often, he didn't 
 know the minute the thing would have come off! Well, sir, 
 she came. She saw the Scotchman privately, was on her knees 
 to him privately, got round him some way, told him lies, and, 
 
Colonel fbley*s Reminiscences. 3 fy 
 
 what is more, got him to swallow them. And I can tell you, 
 as I am a living man and hope to be saved damn me!" added 
 the colonel, with curious self-contradiction, "she worked the 
 thing, sir, so that she got the ministers, and law, and all those 
 infernal things out of the affair. I never heard of Manuel after. 
 I believe he got off to America, and his widow or wife and her 
 three brats would have starved, if the English hadn't made up a 
 subscription for them. They got a pound of my money, I know. 
 You have to put down, you know, when everybody puts down. 
 I heard they went to England afterwards. And didn't she get 
 round Adams and me ! She was a splendid woman then," added 
 the colonel, with ruminative admiration. " Quite thrown away 
 on the poor creature they married her to ! Well furnished, sir, 
 here," said the colonel, with increased relish, and laying his old 
 hands on his shirt front. " She swore both me and Adams 
 solemnly," he added, with winey reverence, "never to breathe a 
 word of the business. Ton my soul!" said the colonel, getting 
 more and more excited, " if I had only worked my chances, I 
 should have done well in that quarter. But the fellow that 
 boasts of his affairs is a sneak. Still, I could tell my say as well 
 as most men. Though," added the colonel, thoughtfully, "I 
 found her out afterwards in a clever trick. She got me a 
 majority in a regiment, and, dammy, sir, if I didn't find out, 
 just in the nick of time, that they were sending it to the African 
 coast. I should have been dead in a week. But she caught 
 poor Adams in the same way, who was not so knowing as Tom 
 Foley. She got him on some swamp duty, which made short woik 
 of him. But, after all, she was a deu-sed clever woman. Oh, 
 deu-secir 
 
 Colonel Foley had not much to say on this point, and his face 
 seemed to have grown so strained, and tightened, and inflamed 
 so reeking with hot vapours and turpentine spirit that it 
 seemed dangerous to go near him with a light. His voice, too, 
 was growing thick, and seemed to be fighting its way to his 
 throat through a crowd. Reverting indignantly to the military 
 colonel who had written the Recollections, he characterised 
 them once more, with bitter contempt, as " Slops gruel ! " and 
 was presently assisted to a cab and sent home. 
 
 That very day Sir John Westende flew to Miss Manuel. " I 
 .Vave Lady Laura now," he said. "Knowing as she is, she shall 
 be no match for me." 
 
 He then told her as much of the story as applied to tke 
 Fermors. 
 
360 Never Forgotten. 
 
 " I managed it uncommonly cleverly," he said. w I wormed 
 it out of an old fellow who knows everything." 
 
 "You should be a detective, Sir John/' she said, as though 
 she were patting a horse's neck. " They should put you in the 
 force. I shall be quite afraid of you." 
 
 " Nonsense/' he said, much pleased. " But let her look out. 
 She'll find me a policeman, I can tell her. As sure as I am a 
 living man, I shall expose her. If it comes to that, I'll go to 
 the church door and tell the whole thing out, I will." 
 
 " She won't let it go to that," said Miss Manuel. " She is 
 too clever. "You have the game in your own hands now, Sir 
 John, and can play that poor woman like a fish in one of your 
 own ponds down at Westende. How cruel you are ! I am in 
 terror of you." 
 
 "By Jove! that is what I shall do," said he, thinking he was 
 deriving a new idea from his own mind. ff I have a plan of my 
 own, Miss Manuel. I shall play her. There is no harry. I'll 
 give a little more line. That's what I shall do ; and pull her up 
 with a jerk. Ha, ha ! I'll teach her ! " 
 
 Sir John, grumbling, and lashing himself in a sort of mulish 
 fury, presently rose to go. When he was gone, her eyes flashed. 
 "They are all working for me," she said; "all $ but no matter. 
 They are all converging to the one point. The end is not far 
 away, and it will be soon time to gather up the threads." She 
 knew very well who Colonel Foley's Scotch Doctor Meadows 
 was, and where he was to be found. Then she thought tenderly, 
 but exultingly, of the loved and lost darling that she fancied was 
 looking down on her as she advanced on this course, and whose 
 soft gentle soul she strangely believed would be soothed and 
 propitiated like some cruel heathen idol by bloody human 
 sacrifices. Presently another visitor entered, when a soft light 
 passed over her face, and the ruthless spirit she was fondling in 
 her arms disengaged itself and fled away. It was Young Brett. 
 
 CHAPTER THE SIXTY-FIFTH. 
 
 A MESSAGE FROM THE DEAD. 
 
 ~y OUNG BRETT had got up once more to London, and had 
 
 driven from the train to his lodgings, and from his lodgings 
 
 straight to Alfred-place. He was delighted to see Miss Manuel 
 
A Message from the Dead. 361 
 
 once more, and almost gambolled round her like a faithful 
 terrier, as he was. " I am so glad to see you again/' he said, 
 " and to see you so well. Our colonel has given me a month. 
 Some of our fellows were making a jolly party to go over 
 and see the camp at Chalons, and the colonel wished me to be 
 with them, but I begged hard to come here, and I am so glad, 
 dear Miss Manuel." 
 
 She was quite touched at this friendly interest. "You are a 
 good dear boy," she said. "You have been true t.o me all 
 through yes, all through, and I never shall forget it never ! " 
 
 There was a little falter in her voice, and Young Brett darted 
 away from the subject obstreperously. 
 
 "The worst is," he said, wistfully, "I am so stupid, I am 
 getting so stupid I am not clever at doing things. I don't 
 know the way. But now, dear Miss Manuel, here I am. I 
 want to be trained. It will be a charity and a kindness to use 
 me, it will indeed; just to send me about, you know, of 
 messages, and that sort of thing. I delight in the excitement, 
 *pon my word I do ! " 
 
 Miss Manuel smiled on him. " I have given you enough 
 work for this year, after that Welsh expedition." 
 
 "Well," said he, "I don't think I managed that so badly. 
 'Jove ! when I came down first I thought there was a regular 
 mystery, but it turned out very pleasantly. Even that, however, 
 I can take no credit for, for it was really an accident. By the 
 way, that Carter," and Young Brett began to grow hot, and 
 colour at the mention of the name, " what has become of him ? 
 I never told you the things he said though, indeed, I ought not 
 to mention it now.** 
 
 Her eyes glittered. " / know what he said to you as well as 
 if I was standing by and listening. I know what vile things he 
 could say and do. But his time is shortening." She got up 
 and began to walk. " There are people on his track. It is too 
 soon to tell you everything ; but this I will say, that though it 
 seems long since our darling left us, still no one has been 
 sleeping, nor have we forgotten this vile cruel heart, who helped 
 to send her so early to her grave. I am weak, I know, and only 
 a woman, but trust me. I have said it should be Never For- 
 gotten, and it shall be ! And I tell you all is nearly ready, and 
 the moment is fast drawing on ! " 
 
 For the first time she looked steadily at Young Brett for 
 enthusiasm and eagerness, but instead, she saw blank dismay and 
 a sort of hopeless grief. This youth showed everything in his 
 
362 Never Forgotten. 
 
 face. "You dont tell me this, Miss Manuel/* he said, im- 
 ploringly. " Oh no ! Why, this is what he said, and dared to 
 say of you." 
 
 "He did!" she said, triumphantly. "Ah! then he has 
 instinct already of what is coming. But he shan't escape. 
 Never ! Neither he, nor the other, the real murderer, nor the 
 real murderer's wife ! We can reach them all, are reaching 
 them, and shall overtake them in a very little time ! You can 
 help me still, as you have helped me so well." 
 
 Again she gave him that triumphant look, expecting en- 
 couragement. But Young Brett's eyes were on the ground, and 
 there was a sore wounded expression in his face. 
 
 " Oh then it is true, it is all true ! " he said, mournfully. 
 " Oh, Miss Manuel, it has come like a blow upon me. I told 
 him to his face that it was all false and indeed I wish it had 
 been all false " 
 
 "What," said Miss Manuel, "and would you have me sit 
 down quietly and submit ? I should have died a year ago if I 
 had. Are there laws and punishments to meet crimes like this ? 
 No. We must take it into our own hands, and punish for our- 
 selves." 
 
 "But you don't mean it," said Young Brett, in a sort of 
 agony. " No, I know you don't. It is so dreadful to think of. 
 And the poor girl, who has done no harm in the world, and 
 done us no harm. Oh, there is something shocking in it. And 
 you who are so noble, and so much above us all, and whom I 
 would do anything in the wide world for, to have such an idea, 
 I cant believe it." 
 
 Miss Manuel looked at him scornfully. " Are you beginning 
 to be like the rest ? " she said. "Very well. It is only being- 
 deceived in one more." 
 
 "I know I am very stupid," said he, still in this tone of 
 despair, "and very useless. I only mean well, and do my best. 
 But, in this sort of thing, I should be miserable all my life, I 
 know I should. It is awful to think of. A young wife, Miss 
 Manuel, to be ruined in this way ! Oh, you must think again, 
 do, do think again, dearest Miss Manuel, and say you are 
 joking." 
 
 Miss Manuel did feel a sort of self-reproach then. She was 
 silent for a few moments. " Ah, you have not lost a sister, and 
 cannot feel. No matter. I was only mistaken. I thought I 
 was secure of you, at least. You were faithful to me. Now I 
 must only go on by myself." Suddenly her voice changed $ 
 
A Me* sag 3 from the Dead. 363 
 
 there came a touching sweetness and affection into her tone. 
 " Ah! But I understand, and do not mean what I say. It is 
 natural in you. You are too noble, and too good for this vile 
 pursuit. It is horrible. But it is my life. I have lived for 
 nothing else. I may as well go on now. I must go on, even if 
 I sacrifice everything that loves me, or cares for me." 
 
 He shook his head sadly. He seemed to stagger under some 
 blow. " I would do anything for you, Miss Manuel," he said, 
 sadly, "anything. I think at this moment, if you wanted it, I 
 would go into a house on fire, or anything of that sort. But 
 this young girl to destroy her, or stand by and see it Oh ! 
 it would be before me day and night." And Young Brett 
 mournfully took his hat. "And that man Romaine, your 
 friend Oh, I am afraid, Miss Manuel, I see it all now." 
 
 "Don't leave me," said she. "All ! don't give me up. That 
 is only wanting to finish it. Though, perhaps, it is better to 
 have done with everybody that is good." 
 
 "I know I am not," said Young Brett, in growing excite- 
 ment, " as good as I ought to be. And I don't set up as being 
 anything of a saint, like some of our fellows $ but but if this 
 is to go on I must I must. Oh, Miss Manuel, if you will 
 only promise me to give up this dreadful scheme " 
 
 "Very well," said she, proudly, "you icont understand me, 
 then. Well, I am grieved $ but no matter. As for giving up 
 no, no. You would have me give up my life. Give up my 
 prayers. Give up the only atonement I can make to our lost 
 darling. All ! no, no ! " 
 
 "Atonement to her? said Young Brett, more excitedly, 
 "why, it is enough to bring her sweet soul back again to earth. 
 Why, you know, Miss Manuel, it is in defiance of her last sweet 
 prayers and wishes, on the very morning that she left us." 
 
 Miss Manuel stopped suddenly in her walk, and came up 
 close to him. 
 
 " Her last wishes ! " she said. " What do you mean ?" 
 
 "You know," he said 5 "of course you do! What she sent 
 to Hanbury." 
 
 "Sent to Hanbury?" she said, turning pale, and her large 
 eyes straining at Young Brett, " what did she send to 
 Hanbury ? ' ' 
 
 "Ah, Miss Manuel," he said, "you would not go in the face 
 of her last dear piteous words, written that very Sunday morn- 
 ing. He showed them to me before he sealed them up and sent 
 them to you." 
 
364 Never Forgotten. 
 
 is all this ?" said Miss Manuel. " I know nothing of 
 it. There is some dreadful thing that has been concealed from 
 me. Tell it to me all tell it to me all at once, and 
 quickly ! ' ' 
 
 She was so frantic and agitated, that he became alarmed and 
 agitated too. He told her how, about a week after that Sunday, 
 Hanbury had come to him with a letter of Violet's, written on 
 the morning of her death, begging forgiveness for the suffering 
 she had caused him, and hoping that Fermor and his wife, 
 should he ever choose one, would live happily -, and conjuring 
 him as a last favour, never to think of doing anything in the 
 way of avenging her trials or her death. And further, to see 
 that no one else did. This was the substance of Violet's last 
 letter." 
 
 " Good God!*' said Miss Manuel, sinking into a chair. 
 ff This was never sent to me, never told to me. Where is it ? 
 Who has it?" 
 
 "Hanbury. He gave it to me to send to you the very 
 morning I saw him off at the docks. And indeed I am sure I 
 posted it : indeed I am. Though I am so stupid and clumsy 
 sometimes -- " And he stopped and looked round ruefully 
 as this suspicion crossed him. 
 
 " Run to him ! fly to him ! said she, starting up. " Bring 
 him here. Don't lose a moment. Bring him here at once." 
 
 He rushed away. By a cruel perverseness, he could not find 
 Hanbury, though he sought him all day long. He left a note 
 for him at a club ; and there late in the afternoon, when 
 Hanbury was glancing at a paper with a dull interest, a servant 
 came, and said a lady was at the door in her carriage, and wished 
 to see him. 
 
 By an instinct, he knew that it was Miss Manuel, and came 
 out quickly. 
 
 "Will you get in? 17 she said, "I want to talk to you." 
 
 He was struck with the sudden look of anxious inquiry that 
 had taken up its place in her face, and got in without a word. 
 They drove away. "You are doing too much," he said ; "you 
 will make yourself ill again." 
 
 " The letter!" she said, suddenly. "What about this letter? 
 I never heard of it. You never spoke of it. Why didn't you ? 
 Show it to me." 
 
 He knew at once what she meant. For nim, as there had 
 been but one Violet, so there was but one letter, and that 
 associated with her. 
 
A Message from the Dead. 365 
 
 "Why, I sent it to you the morning I sailed/' he said, 
 hurriedly. 
 
 "Never reached me, never/' she said, wringing her hands 
 despairingly. " Oh, where is it ? Drive to your house." 
 
 " I have it here," said Hanbury, sadly, taking out his pocket- 
 book. "What I sent was a copy. Here is her own dear 
 writing, soft, sweet, and delicate, like herself." 
 
 His voice was trembling, and his fingers were trembling yet 
 more, as he put the writing into her hand. It was as though 
 her gentle spirit had risen up between them. Pauline's eyes 
 swam as she looked on the little pale characters. It may be 
 given here her last appeal, written on that last Sunday 
 morning : 
 
 "DEAR JOHN HANBURY, They are gone out this morning 
 for a few minutes. I feel happier and a little stronger. I have 
 never been able to tell you how miserable I felt at all the 
 suffering I caused your kind and generous heart ; but I was a 
 foolish, thoughtless girl, not so wicked as perhaps I seemed. I 
 saw in your eyes yesterday that you had forgiven me. Let me 
 ask something else, too. Charles will marry and be happy. I 
 so wish, dear John Hanbury, that he and she whom he shall 
 marry may continue happy, and that no wish of punishment or 
 retribution shall ever interfere with them. I know you will do 
 this for me, and add to the proofs of that love you have shown 
 
 me, and which I have so unworthily But I must stop here; 
 
 and, dear John Hanbury, God bless you for ever! as you 
 ^deserve. 
 
 " VIOLET." 
 
 Streaming eyes read this letter. The sweet name Violet was 
 written faintly, and in letters that tottered. Her spirit seemed 
 to flutter gently across the paper. Miss Manuel kissed' it 
 frantically, and the next moment it fell from her hands* 
 
 " My God ! " she said , "it is all tco late ! " 
 
365 Ikiter Forgotten 
 
 CHAPTER THE SIXTY-SIXTH. 
 
 CATCHING AT STRAWS. 
 
 QHE first flew to Mrs. Fermor, but found that she was out. 
 They did not know where she had gone. Never were there 
 such agitated moments. " Drive quickly, drive quickly!" she 
 cried out to her coachman. But whither ? She knew not 
 whom to look for, or whom to find. Romaine, the Destroyer 
 whom (as she thought with a sort of stab at her heart) she had 
 turned loose he must be found. He was not at his club, not 
 likely to be at his house, was at Richmond, perhaps. She drove 
 to his chambers he actually was in. She flew up-stairs into his 
 room. 
 
 " Here is a surprise ! " he cried out j " I should rather say an 
 honour, should I not ? Though the other day your young friend, 
 that pretty little wife, presented herself, and Why, has any- 
 thing happened? " 
 
 No wonder he put the question, for she looked in deep 
 distress. "It is about her," she said, a little wildly ; "and I 
 have come to you to appeal to you to your generosity. I have 
 been very foolish, very wicked, I should say (that is to say, I did 
 not know then what I know now). And I want you to do me 
 a favour, the only one I have ever asked you." 
 
 Mr. Romaine shook his head and smiled. " I never make 
 wild promises. But let us hear. We shall see." 
 
 ee But you must j you won't refuse," said Pauline, desperately,, 
 seeing in this answer a hint of what she was to expect. " It is 
 too serious to be trifled with. It will be dreadful if something 
 is not done ; and oh, Romaine, I conjure you listen to me - y I 
 tell you I want to repair a wicked folly of mine, and you only 
 can do it. You must never see this poor child again, or, at 
 least, not speak to her." 
 
 " My dear lady," he said, " let me remind you of the century 
 we live in. Think of the railways, and the telegraph, and 
 Exhibitions. We can't do these sort of things without being 
 ridiculous. Think, I beg of you." 
 
 "Oh, but you must not talk in this way," said she, half 
 frantically. " You don't know what is coming, or how it will 
 end. Do promise me. You must." 
 
 "How it will end!" said he, musingly; "no, I don't. 
 Though I may guess. Why, how unreasonable this is ! Was it 
 
Catching at Straws. 367 
 
 not you, pray, that first pointed me out this little woman, and 
 spurred me on with some of those little sharp satirical speeches, 
 for which Miss Manuel is so deservedly admired ? Upon my 
 word, it almost amounted to a challenge." 
 
 " It did, indeed," said Pauline, covering her face. " I own it. 
 It was wicked, horrible, but I thought I was doing right. I did 
 indeed. I want to make reparation, and you must let me, before 
 it is too late." 
 
 "Too late ! " he said, gloomily ; " it is too late. You should 
 have come before. These are dangerous games, Miss Manuel. I 
 say it is too late. I have no power in the matter j I cannot 
 
 stop myself now -, a week ago perhaps Yes, my life has been 
 
 hitherto rough and cold, and perhaps heartless. Now, I feel a 
 glimpse of sunshine. I have not a strong will. I can't do 
 these violent heroic actions, and I don't want to, now I con- 
 fess it." 
 
 He spoke sternly and excitedly, and in his face she read there 
 was no hope for what she prayed. In great agitation she cried 
 out 
 
 "You cannot mean this so frightful so wicked a thing! 
 Oh, think what a judgment will come on you if " 
 
 " I tell you, Miss Manuel, this wickedness is not mine. I 
 should never have dreamed of it. On their heads be it who 
 forced it on me. I am a selfish, common sort of human savage. 
 I can't do these fine things. I could^ perhaps, ten years ago. 
 What made you defy me ? No one ever did that without 
 danger. Don't be angry if I tell you I saw your skilful game." 
 
 "Oh," said Pauline, with a half groan, "what am I to do? 
 What shall I do ? " 
 
 "It is too late," he went on, gloomily. "And I don't see 
 how she can be saved. He is a low, brutal fellow, and has dared 
 to give me some of his airs. I see he will be insolent in a few 
 hours, and I must give him a lesson. Like the true savages that 
 we are, he is f taking it out ' of her. He will cringe before me. 
 Poor helpless child. She says she has not one to look to* A 
 ruffian husband, a cold father, and the friend that she loved, and 
 watched over, turning out to be shall we say a secret enemy? 
 Is it any wonder that she should come for assistance to the only 
 one who, in his rude way, seems to have some regard for her, 
 poor little soul? " 
 
 "Oh, what shall I do? 1 * said Pauline, in a tempest of agita* 
 tion. "Oh, if on my knees " 
 
 "Hush! hush!" said Mr. Romaine, rising up. "Think of 
 
368 Never Forgotten. 
 
 the nineteenth century, I beg. Why, we seem to be at the 
 Porte St. Martin. Come, come, Miss Manuel, pull down your 
 veil, and let me see you down respectably to your brougham." 
 
 He did see her down. " God give me strength and quick 
 intelligence," she said almost gasped to herself as she drove 
 away. " Sweet Violet saint ! angel ! look down and pray for 
 me ! We shall help her yet." 
 
 Alas ! It seemed that supernatural aid were indeed required ! 
 
 Then Miss Manuel drove away to try again if she could find 
 Mrs. Fermor. She went up-stairs with a fluttering heart. Mrs. 
 Fermor was sitting alone, with pale cheeks, and eyes that seemed 
 to " stare " a little from wakefulness. She had long been 
 expecting this moment panting for it. 
 
 Miss Manuel ran up to her. The hand she took in hers was 
 damp and cold. "You are ill," she said, alarmed ; "what is 
 the matter ? " 
 
 The cold little hand drew itself away hastily. " You ask," said 
 Mrs. Fermor, with a trembling voice. " Is this what you have 
 come to ask about ? " 
 
 " Oh, indeed it is/ *aid Miss Manuel, hurriedly. " I have 
 come to accuse myself, and to throw myself at your feet, and 
 beg your forgiveness for what I have done. I was mad. I knew 
 not what I was doing. I conjure you not to mind what I said 
 and what I did. It is my own work, I know, but I may still 
 save you." 
 
 " Save me ! " said Mrs. Fermor, bitterly 5 " this is indeed good 
 news. How noble ! And how is that to be done? " 
 
 " Ah, you suspect me ! " said Pauline, sadly. ee No wonder. 
 No one seems to heed me now. But I must speak, and speak 
 out. Fly! shun him. Never speak to him again. I know 
 him, and know what he means." 
 
 " Who do you mean? " said Mrs. Fermor, astonished. 
 
 " Romaine ! I conjure you never speak to him again. 1 
 understand his hints, for I know him well j and I have come 
 straight to you from him, to put you on your guard against 
 him." 
 
 " Ah, now I understand you, Miss Manuel," said Mrs. Fermor, 
 with flashing eyes. " Now I see. So you come to lecture me, 
 too, about that. But I can understand who has inspired you. 
 You follow your instructions to the letter. Mr. Romaine ! 
 With what face can you come and speak to me in this tone? 
 All, I know you now, Miss Manuel ! There are other people I 
 
Reaping the Whirlwind. 369 
 
 am to be on my guard against God help me ! God help me ! 
 I have no friends." 
 
 " Dear, dear girl ! " said Pauline, rushing to her, " some one 
 has been poisoning your mind against me. I know I was 
 wicked at the beginning, but I have repented. Oh, you know 
 not how I have suffered. But whatever suspicion I bring on 
 myself, I say again solemnly, and conjure you solemnly, shun 
 that dreadful being, whom I know means you harm ! " 
 
 " I know those who mean me harm," said Mrs. Fermor, with 
 trembling voice. "I know them well. I know who are my 
 friends, too. I want no advice. I am 'glad you have come, 
 so that I can tell you so. Henceforth I can stand by myself. 
 I shall be independent of friends and of the world. I want no 
 false ones. So now leave me, please, Miss Manuel." 
 
 She stood up. Pauline came towards her and tried to catch 
 her hand. 
 
 "Don't, don't," she said; "for heaven's sake don't take this 
 tone ! Think of me, speak to me as you will, but take care, I 
 conjure you. Do let me know that I have repaired what I have 
 doneV' 
 
 The little lady, with heaving chest and quivering lip, looked 
 at her with scorn. 
 
 " If you do not go, I must," she said. " It is not fit that you 
 should come to this house." 
 
 At this moment the servant opened the door, and announced 
 "Mr. Ro MAINE ! " 
 
 CHAPTER THE SIXTY-SEVENTH. 
 
 REAPING THE WHIRLWIND. 
 
 JTE entered with his old easy air, and never even started as he 
 
 saw the two ladies together. 
 
 " Ah, this is a surprise," he said, taking his low chair. "Two 
 visits rolled into one. Miss Manuel, you must know, did me the 
 unexpected honour qf a call ?wt an hour ago, and we meet again 
 here ! ' ' 
 
 What with confusion and grief, Miss Manuel w^a not herself 
 
 B B 
 
Never Forgotten. 
 
 any longer. She had lost her old readiness and her old sharpness 
 of retort. Not so Mrs. Fermor, who displayed a wild and 
 flurried coquetry. 
 
 " I am so glad you have come in, Mr. Romaine," she said. 
 " I was expecting you. 
 
 <e And I have been looking up a dress for you,' ' he said ; " for 
 you must go to this show of Mamma Fermor's. I brought some 
 pictures from that shop in the Haymarket. Here is a Spanish 
 Ballerina, a Mary Queen of Scots the old, old story. Or, what 
 do you say to a genuine pair, Petrarch and Laura ? " 
 
 With her eyes fixed defiantly on Miss Manuel, and her lips 
 brought close, Mrs. Fermor answered her rather than Romaine. 
 
 "Whatever you like; you will settle it for me." 
 
 "Well," he said, carelessly, " I am for Petrarch and Laura. I 
 can get this made for myself. It will suit my style of beauty 
 famously." 
 
 " Anything you like," said she, vacantly, still answering Miss 
 Manuel. " Choose for me." 
 
 "Well, I do choose," he said. "But first, what does Miss 
 Manuel our friend say ? " 
 
 With a helpless despairing look she turned from one to the 
 other. 
 
 " What can I say ? she said 5 " I know nothing of what you 
 
 mean. It cannot be serious " And she almost wrung her 
 
 hands. 
 
 "It is serious," said Mrs. Fermor, looking at her fixedly -, 
 " and all real and earnest. Childish days are over, Miss Manuel. 
 I feel more and more like a woman every day. I want to be a 
 woman of the world. I am panting to begin. A real, cold, 
 heartless woman of the world, that has got rid of foolish affection, 
 and of love and scruples, and all that old absurdity. I must 
 begin to live now," added the poor little Mrs. Fermor, with 
 a piteous desperation, and almost with tears starting to her eyes, 
 ( if ever I am to live ! " 
 
 "Then let it be my task, O divinest Laura," said Mr. Romaine, 
 starting up into a theatrical attitude, " to teach thee this new 
 art. Thy Petrarch is indifferently skilled in worldly politics, 
 ?nd will be a guide, philosopher, and friend. There, Miss Ma- 
 nuel. Not so bad, I think. We shall make a sensation in our 
 pew parts at Mamma Fermor's." 
 
 No, no, no ! " said Pauline 5 "this is all folly, mere childish 
 folly. You do not see the danger. Come! come!" she half 
 whispered to Mrs. Fermor, " ah ! come with me. You will not 
 
Reaping the Whirlwind. 371 
 
 refuse me that little favour ? I implore you. I have something 
 to say to you. Come out and drive." 
 
 Mrs. Fermor broke from her. "That is all over now. I 
 shall not go to you, nor do I want you to come to me. I know 
 you. You have cured me, indeed." 
 
 " I tell you it will be ruin, misery, degradation," said Pauline, 
 frantically. 
 
 He caught the last words. " What, you rehearsing too, Miss 
 Manuel ? " he said, with a sneer. " Has Lady Laura secured you, 
 too ! How strongly cast we shall be ! But come, no tampering 
 with the lovely Laura. / know what Miss Manuel is whisper- 
 ing. She has played the same part with me this morning 
 already." 
 
 " I dare say ! " said Mrs. Fermor, with cheeks kindling afresh. 
 " I have lived but a short time, but I have learnt enough to see 
 what the world is." 
 
 "Well ! I started/ said he, " with the assumption that every 
 friend was false, every truth (that is, every worldly truth) a lie 
 and every profession a humbug. You have now convinced me 
 that it was so. Sometimes you meet with an agreeable surprise, 
 but ninety-nine times out of a hundred I am right. You must 
 come to school to me, my dear Mrs. Fermor." 
 
 There was a passion and a tragic intensity in all that the two 
 women spoke to each other that would have mystified any one 
 else. But Mr. Romaine knew what was on foot. For him the 
 situation was delightful. Mrs. Fermor, so full of indignant 
 warmth, her cheeks glowing with wounded pride and defiance $ 
 Miss Manuel piteously imploring, both in looks and voice. 
 
 Her last hope was to be alone with this young creature $ then 
 she could tell her all, and make even an abject submission. She 
 would do anything to stop this horrible mischief, which now 
 seemed to her to be spreading every hour like some virulent 
 plague. But Romaine seemed to understand this also. 
 
 " This is one of my idle lounging evenings," he said, looking 
 at her steadily ; " for a wonder, I have nothing to do. Business, 
 thank God, I never dirty my fingers with. But there are a 
 hundred little gnats which come buzzing at me, nearly as bad as 
 business notes and the like. But this afternoon I am free. 
 Come, Mrs. Fermor, shall we order tea ? Let us drown out 
 cares in a cheerful bowl." 
 
 Mrs. Fermor flew to comply with his wish with an artificial 
 alacrity still looking at Miss Manuel. The other saw there 
 was no hope, and went away full of sadness, something like 
 
sjyj Never Forgotten 
 
 despair. Never was there such a changed being. She had 
 sprung back over the wide crevasse that lay between her and the 
 old Eastport times, and was the gentle loving upright Pauline 
 again. What she had been doing seemed to be the blackest of 
 crimes, a spotted leprosy. "Oh, what am I to do 1 " she said 
 aloud, in her carriage. "And I can do nothing." 
 
 At this moment she saw Fermor sauntering along moodily. 
 This was now the shape in which most people saw him. In an 
 instant she had stopped her carriage by the pathway, and called 
 to him. He was at her window in a moment. 
 
 "Oh, Captain Fermor!" she said, and he remarked het 
 excited manner, " I have just been to your house, and I want to 
 
 speak to you, to tell you And yet," she added, striking her 
 
 dress passionately, " how am I to begin or where But you 
 
 will grant me this one favour. I know I am sure you 
 will?" 
 
 The old complacent smile was rising on the Fermor lips. 
 Passers-by, reading his face, thought what a pleasant little 
 interview was going on at the window of that little brougham 
 boudoir. 
 
 "Anything you wish," he said. "You have only to ask. 
 Come, what is it ? " 
 
 " You do not understand," she said, in the same passionate 
 way. " Something must be done, and done at once, or we 
 know not what mischief may come. I am accountable for it 
 all ! I have been guilty and wicked ; but I declare solemnly I 
 knew not what I was doing. You will be generous, and save 
 me, I know. Fly ! leave this country ! leave me. Put the seas 
 between us. It is the only chance. And take her with you. 
 She must not be sacrificed." 
 
 He was amazed. " Put the seas between us !" he said. " Pray 
 why ? And you ask me to do this ? " 
 
 "I do ! I do ! " she said. "I would repair the mischief I 
 have done. I should have kept away from your household, but 
 some miserable fate has driven me on. I thought I was doing 
 what was right ; but I was blind stone blind and I was 
 wicked, too. But you will go ? " 
 
 (Other passers-by now looking in curiously, and seeing Pauline's 
 sparkling eyes, said within themselves, " Here is a gallant little 
 quarrel going on in this public-private place.") 
 
 He shook his head. There was a bewildered pleasure beaming 
 in his eyes. "Anything but that," he said. " You can't ask me 
 that. I could not do it. It is hard to ask me. Now, too, when 
 
Reaping the Whirlwind. 
 
 we are beginning to know each other, and to understand each 
 other." 
 
 "All, that is it ! f> she said, with a groan. " You don't under- 
 stand me. No one does. No one knows what I am, or what I 
 have been doing. I dare not even hint it to you. But I tell you, 
 it is the only chance for me. You will go, will you not ? " 
 
 Again the look of triumph was in his eye. " You know," he 
 said, " my position. I am only a slave in that house. I can 
 neither go nor stay. They bought me, and I must stand by the 
 terms of the bargain." 
 
 She seemed to see this, and covered her face up in her hands. 
 (A man passing, who had read a good deal of French romance at 
 his club, looked back with extraordinary interest, and thought it 
 very like a scene in the "Ames Perdus," by Charles Loupgarou.) 
 " Then we are lost," she said, despairingly, " all of us ! " She 
 told the coachman to drive on. 
 
 "Wait, wait," said he, hastily 5 "we shall see. We must 
 
 talk of this I must see you " 
 
 " Think ! Talk ! See ! " she said, angrily. " There has been 
 too much of that. We must do now act- But it is all too 
 late." 
 
 Miss Manuel went home miserable, and almost distracted. In 
 her drawing-room she flung herself on the sofa with her face to 
 the cushions. "What am I to do?" she groaned. "Some 
 curse is on me. Some fury is driving me onward." 
 
 So it seemed, indeed. She was so bound up, so encompassed 
 about, she could not dare turn back. An iron fate, cruel and 
 pitiless as ever was in a Greek tragedy, was hurrying her on. 
 She thought of the soft suffering face of her lost sister, as it lay 
 before her on that final, far-off Sunday morning. 
 
 "Fool that I was," said Pauline, in a fresh agony, "wicked 
 fool ! to have thought that so sweet a soul could have required 
 to be soothed or laid by savage and unchristian vengeance," and 
 she shuddered as she thought of the awful character of the 
 retribution she had heaped on the head of that poor artless, 
 impetuous, but innocent Mrs. Fermor. "What is to be done?" 
 she said, distractedly. "Who is there to help me?" Who 
 indeed ! Not one in that house, not her brother, who was 
 watching jealously, suspiciously, and now panting for prompter 
 vengeance. 
 
 There was scarcely an equivoque here, such as takes place in a 
 play j for she could not bring herself to tell Fermor how she had 
 been behaving to his wife. Nor, in fact, would she have cared 
 
374 Never Forgotten. 
 
 now, had she even suspected the view he took of her agitated 
 requests. Every other consideration was sunk in the one aim and 
 object the undoing of what she had done. Talk of a skeleton 
 in a cupboard ! Here was a decaying, mouldering corpse, locked 
 up decomposing, and mottled over with the black spots of a 
 plague. Day and night she could not shut out the image of 
 that pretty, impetuous, fresh young creature, whose ruin she had 
 so craftily " devilishly," she said to herself planned. 
 
 Motion action was her only resource. At home there was no 
 hope. Those gloomy eyes of her brother now more gloomy 
 and more truculent than ever were upon her. They were 
 suspicious, and brought her to account. Hanbury she saw 
 again. 
 
 "What can you do for me?" she said, almost on her knees. 
 " Help me ! Save me ! You once loved us, and loved her. Oh, 
 I dare not tell you what I have done. You cannot guess it even, 
 and you will not ask it. But you will help me help her save 
 that poor child!'* 
 
 In such wild accusations John Hanbury had no faith. She 
 was one of his Saints. He thought long and wistfully of what 
 he was to do. 
 
 "I would give the world," he said, earnestly, " and not the 
 world only for that would be no sacrifice but my blood, heart, 
 life everything for you ! But I am not quick at planning. If 
 I saw her that poor girl " 
 
 "Ah, yes!" said Pauline, eagerly, "she will trust you, she 
 will listen to you. Speak to her in your own natural honest way, 
 and she will listen. She has not this horrible distrust of you, 
 though, indeed, it is not her fault. It is only natural that she 
 should shrink from me." 
 
 "Ah!" said Hanbury, sadly, "if she only knew her interest, 
 she would fly to you, she would " 
 
 "No, no," said she, hastily 5 "she is right there. You do not 
 know me either. I am not a woman for the young and innocent 
 to fly to." 
 
 Hanbury's eyes were turned on her, wondering and inquiring. 
 This was her too scrupulous self-accusation sister to his Saint 
 up above ! 
 
 "You will go to her," went on Pauline. "Get them away 
 secretly 5 get them to leave this dreadful London. All of them 
 father, husband, all. It is the only chance. I know that 
 wicked Romainej his Will gives him power. He has done 
 everything that he has laid out, and he has laid this out. Go 
 
Fermor s Next Move. 37^5 
 
 quickly,*' she said, hurriedly, and in terror, as if it might be 
 already too late. " Persuade her. See her father. He wishes to 
 leave this place. Conjure her, and she will heed you.'' 
 
 John Hanbury left her, and., full of ardour, flew to carry out 
 his new mission, 
 
 CHAPTER THE SIXTY-EIGHTH. 
 FERMOR' s NEXT MOVE. 
 
 T 
 
 WO approaching events were now mildly agitating the 
 society of which Major Carter and Lady Laura Fermor 
 were members. One was the marriage of the major with Mrs. 
 Wrigley, the other, the festival Lady Laura was about to give. 
 In conversation, the first was despatched with many sneers. 
 Eyebrows were elevated together, with the accuracy of drill, as 
 the subject was introduced. Webster, with his face to his plate, 
 and never sacrificing a mouthful to his joke, snapped off his 
 sharp petards, and said he was glad of it, because now their 
 united weight would break down the old chariot. Still there 
 were not a few who growled, and who said "that Carter" was a 
 "something" lucky fellow, that he had fallen on his legs, that 
 he knew (satanically) well where a good thing was to be got, 
 and how to get it, with more in the same key of approbation. 
 
 No wonder the latter was a little elated, the world was " going 
 so pleasantly" with him. He was cleaner and crisper and 
 brighter than before. The moment of his happiness was not 
 ten days off. Lady Laura's festival was a day or two later, 
 which he lamented much. "We shall be miles away," he said, 
 half sadly, " by that time. We shall be at Dover, or perhaps at 
 Calais. I am sorry to miss it; indeed I am." This he said to 
 Fermor, whom he met in Pall-Mail. "The world," he went 
 on, "has been going very well with me 5 better, indeed, than 
 such an old sinner as I deserve. But the world is an old sinner 
 too, my dear Fermor, and I suppose has some reason." 
 
 Fermor was in one of his fits of irritation. During these 
 latter days he was in a strange excitement. He had just come 
 from Miss Manuel's, where he had not been admitted. " Going 
 pleasantly with you?" he said 5 "it is more than I can say. I 
 am crossed and worried at every turn. Not but that, if I chose, 
 I could be independent of it, and right myself." 
 
376 Never Forgotten. 
 
 The major laughed good humouredly. "We poor genteel 
 paupers must take what comes in our way, and be glad. But, 
 my dear boy, to hear you railing at the world, with a goose full 
 of golden eggs at home ha ! ha ! and yourself in the best 
 society ; and that charming, piquant Mrs. Fermor (I am an old 
 fellow, you know, and may speak), why really " 
 
 Fermor bit his lips several times before he could speak. 
 " Charming and piquant ! " he said, scornfully. " Oh, of 
 course." 
 
 " I declare I am so grieved,' went on the major, at having 
 to go, and at not being able to see her. She will make a 
 genuine sensation. Mark, I say so." 
 
 "Sensation! where?" said Fermor, absently. 
 
 "In the tableaux at Lady Laura's. That rough fellow, 
 Romaine, is at work night and day organising it." 
 
 Fermor stopped short in the street and looked at the other. 
 "Who told you this ?" he said. 
 
 "The world," said the major. "The town. Ah! my dear 
 friend, I see ! A little secret from the husband. A surprise on 
 the night itself." 
 
 " This is monstrous ! this is outrageous !" he muttered. 
 
 The major's face suddenly altered. "Forgive me," he said; 
 "I speak of these things too lightly. I did not mean it. 
 Seriously, I am sorry about it. "We are old friends, and I am 
 an ' old boy,' as they call me ; so you won't mind me. But you 
 know these young creatures are always a little giddy, until they 
 settle down." 
 
 "What am I to do?'' asked Fermor, walking on. "I think 
 I shall go straight to that ruffian's house, and strike him across 
 the face. I should like to mark him. His insolence is unen- 
 durable." 
 
 "He is overbearing/* said the major, warmly, "and a low 
 fellow. But, my dear Fermor, you must not do anything extra- 
 vagant. There is really no harm in the business." 
 
 "No harm," said Fermor, fiercely, "in being talked of by the 
 low gossips of the town, and being pointed at, and shrugged at ? 
 I won't stand it. I am putting up with too much. Everybody 
 thinks they can treat me as they please. I tell you, since this 
 marriage of mine, I have never had a day's comfort, and I believe 
 I have to thank you and other good friends for it." 
 
 "Don't say that," said the major, calmly. "I think you do 
 me injustice. A little reflection will show that you do. I 
 put myself a good deal out of my way to help in that business $ 
 
Ferrnor's next Move. 377 
 
 and, do you know, I trace a chronic rheumatism I have in this 
 left arm to that cold night's journey up to London !" 
 
 Fermor was a little ashamed. " I know," he- said, "and of 
 
 course I did not mean But it would have been better, after 
 
 all, to have kept to that poor girl. Slie would have adored me, 
 I believe, and have made me very happy." 
 
 The major shook his head. 
 
 "Never would have done," he said. "That you know your- 
 self. All very well for the romantic part $ but otherwise " 
 
 "Well, otherwise," said Fermor, impatiently. "Why not?" 
 
 " Society, I mean," said the major. "There's the droll thing 
 of Miss Manuel, with her parties and her followers, and all the 
 world that is, a certain set of the world struggling to get to 
 them. But have you ever remarked, no ladies, eh ?" 
 
 "Yes," said Fermor, " I have. But why not ? She does not 
 care for ladies." 
 
 "Ah ! all very well," said the major, whose face was gradually 
 contracting, and assuming a sharp and malicious expression. 
 " That does to give out, you know. She has taken some dislike 
 to me, mainly, I believe, because I did conceive it to be my 
 duty, in that affair of her sister's -, and I cannot describe to you 
 the unchristian attempts she has made to injure me. Thanks to 
 Providence, I have been enabled to defeat them without much 
 exertion. But of course I am under no obligation to cushion 
 the thing, and when asked, therefore, I always tell the thing 
 openly." 
 
 " But what thing?" said Fermor. "What do you mean?" 
 
 "Did I never tell you?" said the major, his face contorting 
 more and more with malice. " No, I believe not. You never 
 heard such a story, such a business altogether. You know I 
 make no profession of being a friend of the Mariuels. I always 
 had the one opinion. I am, therefore, under no restraint. Such 
 a disgraceful affair very bad indeed ! Let me see. The old 
 colonel is in Town now. We are sure to find him, for he lives 
 all day, and nearly all night, at his club. He would tell von 
 the whole story in half an hour, and would like to tell it. 
 
 "And I should like to hear it," said Fermor, bitterly. " The 
 Manuels give themselves great airs, and Miss Manuel, latterly, 
 if she had been a princess, could not behave more haughtily." 
 
 "Exactly," said Major Carter, vindictively. "I don't dislike 
 her, though she has injured me j but then I am under no obli- 
 gation to go out of my way to bolster up her family affairs 5" 
 and the major at that moment, thinking of Miss Manuel's per- 
 
378 Never Forgotten. 
 
 secution of himself, and of his own trouble to defeat it, was 
 actually colouring. " I will introduce you to Foley you would 
 like to know Foley and he has heard of you." 
 
 During these days Miss Manuel, in a strange state of mind, 
 felt herself drawn in the smooth current on to the rapids. She 
 seemed to be catching at the branches and stones as they passed 
 her. It was of no avail. She went abroad to the shows and 
 amusements, not from any love of such attractions, but because 
 they might offer opportunities of undoing her fatal work. But 
 it was going on too surely and rapidly. Once during these days 
 she met Mrs. Fermor, and, with a wistful and imploring look, 
 ran to her ; but, trembling and flushed, the other turned from 
 her. Much oftener she met her with Mr. Romaine Romaine 
 the Victorious. Him, at some ball or theatre one night, she 
 caught hold of and talked to hurriedly. 
 
 " What do you mean to do ? said she. " How is this to 
 end?'' 
 
 "How can I tell ?" he said, calmly. " You know me suffi- 
 ciently by this time to guess that what I mean to-day may not 
 be what I mean to-morrow. But this I am certain of : what I 
 feel at this moment to that young girl." 
 
 " But you have conscience you have honour/ said she, almost 
 frantically. " I cannot believe that you would go so far " 
 
 "Ah, yes!" he said. "That is not the difficulty. I don't 
 care to boast, but I have lived stormily according to the odd 
 French expression, have had a jeunesse orageuse. I could count 
 on my fingers certainly three or four instances nearly the same, 
 and I knew what I meant then, and how far I intended to go. 
 Apply that to the present instance. I am a hard, cold, selfish 
 being 5 I confess it. For years I have not known what it is to 
 live or love. Now, when I feel the rays of the sun upon me, 
 you would push me into shade. Nonsense. My dear Miss 
 Manuel, you are laughing at me behind your cards behind 
 your fan. You threw down a clever challenge you are beaten, 
 and now you want to try another system. It will not do. I 
 have but one thing in my head now, and I shall follow it out 
 to the last, as I have done everything else in my life." 
 
 She almost groaned. " O, Heaven help me, and forgive me ! 
 Heaven help her, as indeed it will !" But her rash purpose was 
 being worked out without her, and in spite of her : the old 
 wrong would find a punishment for itself, and would be, indeed, 
 Never Forgotten. 
 
 These were weary miserable days. She lay under a load of 
 
Fermors next Move. 379 
 
 remorse. All the time her strange brother kept her under his eye 
 suspiciously. " What is this change ?" he said. "You do not 
 see people. Why do you not let them come ? Why do you not 
 see him as you used to do ? Take care, Pauline -, I am getting 
 tired. I don't follow these fine schemes of yours." She felt 
 that she dare not tell him what she knew, or dream even of 
 changing his purpose ; so she could only plead for delay, for a 
 little longer time. "A week or two more," she said, "and you 
 shall see. I conjure you do nothing of yourself. You promised, 
 you know, to leave all to me." 
 
 "Ah, Romaine," said he, with some satisfaction, " he is doing his 
 work. You have managed that well. I must give you so much 
 credit. But for Fermor, we are far too slow with him. I cannot 
 bring my eyes to look at him when we meet. I find this growing 
 on me every day. You remember what you called him that 
 night, when she was still in the house a murderer. It was the 
 exact description, and now, go where I will, by night or by day, 
 I always have him present to me as a murderer." 
 
 Miss Manuel groaned to herself, and covered up her face. She 
 was thinking how every step had plunged her deeper ; every 
 move had been but too fatally calculated to prevent her going 
 back. The only course now was to prevent this wild, excitable 
 brother from taking things into his own hands -, and she, there- 
 fore, with a desperate hypocrisy, conjured, implored him to leave 
 all to her. 
 
 But all this time there was a great manly heart bound up in 
 the Manuel family by all the ties of strong grief, and tender 
 regrets, and softest associations, and whose state was as miserable 
 as that of Pauline herself. The tones and colouring of the 
 younger Hanbury had faded with that deep trial and the schooling 
 of rough travel ; the old dream of the goodness of all men, and 
 the unsuspecting trust, which at times looks like folly, had been 
 scorched out. A graver, sadder, and more practical Hanbury 
 had come home. Now it seemed to him that old wounds were 
 opened afresh. Yet he knew not how to meet the evil. At 
 devising he had no skill j yet one evening, relying on his own 
 honest instincts for assistance, he thought he would go straight 
 to the bright impulsive little woman, whom he always looked at 
 with a strange, sad interest, from her having stepped into the 
 place of one he could never forget. 
 
 He was coming down the street, when he saw Romaine 
 standing on the steps, looking in his direction. Romaine 
 waited for him. "My good Hanbury," he said, "I have an 
 
380 Never Forgotten. 
 
 instinct you are coming in here. Am I right ? I thought so. 
 Now, what can you want in this galley ? I give you fair notice 
 I am come for a private audience, and you will only be in the 
 way." 
 
 Hanbury said to him, sadly, " Ah ! why do you come here ? 
 It is not prudent nor right. Surely you, who are in the world, 
 know how the world talks. I know I have no title to speak to 
 you, but " 
 
 "Well," said Romaine, "you have saved me from some 
 embarrassment by that speech j some such misty notion was in 
 my head, but I was too polite to utter it. Seriously, my good 
 friend Hanbury, what are you at on these hall-door steps ? Only 
 that I know you to be a good sort of well-meaning fellow that 
 
 intends no harm, why really I should be inclined to " and 
 
 he nodded his head significantly. " But the point now is, I am 
 going in here, and I trust you will have the good taste not to 
 come in too." 
 
 " I say again," said Hanbury, firmly, " this should not go on. 
 It is unworthy of you, Romaine unworthy of any man of 
 honour, especially when you know the state of things in this 
 house. Come away with me down, and let us talk over it 
 quietly. Come." 
 
 The look of calm insolence that Romaine gave him .was 
 unsurpassed. " I am beginning to understand you, Mr. Han- 
 bury 5 and it is time that you should understand me. Let me 
 remind you that our acquaintance does not quite warrant this 
 tone of confidential remonstrance. I once ' went out/ as it 
 is called, with a benevolent Frenchman a religious man, too 
 for a similar friendly remonstrance, which, not being a friend, 
 he had no business to make. You understand. Religious man 
 as he was, he did meet me, and recollected it well afterwards." 
 
 "This sort of tone has no effect on me," said Hanbury 5 "I 
 have been in situations where I have shown no regard for life. 
 It has often been a burden to me. I want no quarrel with you; 
 but I tell you plainly, this must not go on ! " 
 
 "This is far more rational," said Romaine, good humouredly; 
 "much better than the platitudes you began with. Now, I tell 
 you it shall go on. That is, I shall take no interference." 
 
 "I shall find means," said Hanbury, looking up, "never 
 fear ! Too many hearts are interested in this young creature, 
 to let her be lost without an effort." 
 
 "Ah!" said Romaine, "now we have it all. The good, 
 faithful, well-meaning friend has let it out ! Well, go back to 
 
Fermors next Move. 381 
 
 } r our employer, Mr. Hanbury, and tell her from me that it will 
 not do. It has failed, and will fail. Her own persuasion was of 
 no use, and intimidation will turn out equally profitable. 
 There!" and he rang the bell. "I am quite serious in this! 
 Look you, I shall be interfered with by no woman, and certainly 
 by no man. Mind! And as you are a friend of the family, 
 perhaps you will hint to them that if this becomes a matter of 
 serious interference with my affairs, it may turn out rather a 
 dangerous game for them / I know a good deal about 'most 
 families, and what most families would not wish to be known ! 
 Just hint that to your friend, and, if you can recollect them, in 
 those words. There ! " 
 
 ''Then/' said John Hanbury, slowly, "you have quite 
 decided?'" 
 
 "Quite, my dear friend," he said, smiling; "you, at last, 
 understand me, I see." 
 
 "What could that heavy creature mean?" thought Mr. 
 Romaine. " He had a mulish look as he went away. I think 
 he hinted that he would try and give me trouble. DumpkofT, 
 as the Germans say : a regular dumpkoff. Confound him!" he 
 said suddenly, "if he attempts any of his high moral inter- 
 ference with me, or, in his clumsy way, tries to give me any 
 annoyance, I shall just mash his big figure into a pulp. Clumsy 
 clown ! I wonder I listened to his prosy rubbish so long ! ' ' 
 
 This scene was at the door. Up-stairs the little lady was 
 keeping a lonely watch in her drawing room. Since her 
 marriage, her grim father had felt that he was not the same 
 company for her that he was of old. Perhaps he did not like to 
 chill her new existence which had now, he supposed, been 
 bound up with youth and pleasure with the frost of age. 
 
 In all concerning her he had a sensitive delicacy. She took 
 it that he had devoted himself so long to her interests as a sort 
 of sacrifice, and now that she had found a more suitable com- 
 panion, was glad to be restored to his books. She was sitting 
 there alone, neither reading, nor writing, nor working, but 
 simply thinking. Now in a hopeless dejection j now lashing 
 her little soul into fury, with dwelling on what she thought her 
 wrongs. She was determined to die sooner than "give in." 
 Her dress the dress of Laura, which she was to play to 
 Mr. Romaine' s Petrarch had come home not an hour ago, and 
 lay upon a sofa near her. Madame Gay, who had come in 
 person to see the effect, and to lay on "a touch " here and there, 
 was in French ecstacies at the result. It was magnificent, 
 
382 Never Forgotten. 
 
 divine, <( ravishing.' Madame took away the light of hef eyes ! 
 v And monsieur Monsieur Romaine" added Madame Gay, 
 with a "fin" air, and a recollection of her Paris training "how 
 he will be pleased ! " 
 
 Mrs. Fermor coloured. She was not skdful at the right 
 reply or at the right manner. " He has brought this humilia- 
 tion on me!" she thought, meaning Fermor "He exposes me 
 to the remarks of such people as these." 
 
 Madame Gay saw the blush, and, still following her Pans 
 instincts, took it for a blush of pleasure. 
 
 "Ah," she went on, "such a gay, gallant gentleman, and he 
 admires madame so ! II souffre. I know it well. Mon Dieu ! 
 comme il soulTre ! ' ' 
 
 Mrs. Fermor turned on her with flashing eyes. 
 
 " What do you mean !" she said. "You forget yourself. I 
 do not want to hear such things. How dare you?" and she 
 stamped her foot angrily. 
 
 Madame Gay was contrite and deeply penitent. "Elle me 
 boudait," she said afterwards, telling the story to a lady of her 
 own country. " Ciel ! comme elle me boudait. But all the 
 time, elle s'y prenait bien, voyez vous. She is a charming little 
 coquine." 
 
 Presently the Frenchwoman, accepting this indignation as an 
 invitation, came back to the subject. 
 
 "If I dared," she said, "if Madame would not be angry, I 
 would tell her a little secret about this very dress. I will tell it 
 in a little whisper. It is all paid for! M. Fairmore " 
 
 With doubt, and eagerness, and pleasure in her eyes, Mrs. 
 Fermor turned round hastily. " Yes," she said ; "goon Tell 
 me quick!" 
 
 Under the rich material of Laura's dress a little reproach was 
 working. 
 
 "M. Fairmore is not to know a word," went on Madame 
 Gay, with mystery. "It is a cadeau, a surprise from a true 
 chevalier." 
 
 "Take it off, take it off!'* said Mrs. Fermor, hurriedly; 
 fc quick, quick ) Don't lose a moment 5" and to the astonish- 
 ment of the Paris lady, she began tearing at the rich laces and 
 ribbon* of Laura's dress. 
 
 "Madame will destroy it all," said Madame Gay, distractedly, 
 caiching her arms. "Take care, for the love of God! There, 
 that is better." 
 
 "Go away," said Mrs. Fermor. distractedly; "leave this 
 
Fermor's next Move. 383 
 
 house. Never come here again. Don't pay me any of your 
 horrible compliments." 
 
 "Madame is ill," said the Frenchwoman, calmly. "Here is 
 eau-de-Cologne. I shall come to-morrow evening at the same 
 hour." 
 
 When she was gone Mrs. Fermor threw herself back in deep 
 affliction. "He has brought this on me," she said ; "my name 
 will be in everybody's mouth. This dreadful woman will go 
 round and tell her fine ladies ! I shall be spoken of, pointed at, 
 and I have no one to help or advise me. No, no, not one." 
 Then she started up suddenly : " If the world thinks so let it 
 think so. It will wring his heart. He will know too late 
 what he has lost. He is sensitive about being pointed at 5 
 so am I. When he shall see me admired, with all the world at 
 my feet, with the great and the noble worshipping me, he will, 
 perhaps, regret what he has lost." She walked to her glass. 
 Laura's dress became her wonderfully. The excitement in her 
 eyes and cheeks became her yet more. She walked before her 
 glass. "Ah! It will do," she said. 
 
 "Indeed it will do," said a voice at the door 5 "it is superb 
 and dazzling. Petrarch admires !" 
 
 " Go away,' said she, in a frightened voice, going to the othe; 
 room. "Why do you come here at this time? You should 
 not you know you should not. Go away quick I implore 
 of you." 
 
 " If you act like that on the night," said Mr. Romaine, 
 placing a chair for himself in the middle of the room, " it will 
 be the success of the season.' 
 
 "You must go," she said more excitedly, "or I shall ring and 
 send for some one." 
 
 " Hush !" he said, rising. " 1 am sure you are too sensible to 
 make a noise, or bring in people from the streets, or do anything 
 of that sort. No, no. Listen to me. I heard that the dress 
 was to be home at this hour, and merely looked in to see the 
 effect. I have seen it, and am going. There." 
 
 "Ah! the dress. Yes," said Mrs. Fermor, more excitedly 
 still. "I shall never put it on again," repeated Mrs. Fermor, 
 passionately. " Never ! " 
 
 "That would be foolish," said he, calmly, "at now three-quarters 
 past the eleventh hour. I had no idea the effect would be so 
 good. Let us be rational. You are displeased, and I believe 
 you are right. I am hasty sometimes. I shall go and get my 
 money back from that French creature, and you shall pay her." 
 
384 Never Forgotten 
 
 This was reasonable, and Mrs. Fermor had no answer ready. 
 He went on : " A charming dress (I am really going now) 
 And all my design, recollect. Why, that wandering husband of 
 yours, when he sees you in it, will go down on his knees like a 
 prodigal. I know these Orsons well. He will be your slave for 
 the rest of his life. I have known many cases. Do you see my 
 plan ? Isn't it wonderful in a wild ogre like rne." 
 
 Mrs. Fermor sighed and shook her head. " I don't know 
 whether to believe you or not. I can trust no one now. He is 
 too fond of the world," she said, " and I am too prosy for him." 
 
 "You talk of his indifference," he said, and went walking up 
 and down. " I don't believe in it. He is acting a part j I 
 know it. He is burning to love you, but his cursed pride is in 
 the way. Else he must be the stupidest, vilest, most insensible 
 block that ever came into this world. Else he has dull eyes. 
 Else he is a mere savage and brute beast Else he is so wrapped 
 up in his own vanity and selfishness his own utter heart- 
 lessness " 
 
 "Mr. Romaine!" said she. 
 
 "No, my dear Mrs. Fermor," said he, in another voice, 
 "trust me, a man of the. world. You will see a marvellous 
 change after the night. Is it not good of me ! I am like the 
 man on the branch sawing it away stupidly. Under the new 
 regime, I shall, of course, be turned out, never admitted again 
 That I expect. It is always the case with me. I believe I 
 must be going to die, I am getting so good. All my friends are 
 cutting me. Good night." 
 
 He went away at once went away singing and beating the 
 rails down the street with his stick. "Poor little soul!" he 
 said 5 " how she lets the net wrap round and round her again ! " 
 
 CHAPTER THE SIXTY-NINTH. 
 
 A REMONSTRANCE. 
 
 E are now hurrying on to a crisis. It was better, indeed, 
 that it should come to a crisis -, for the demoralisation in 
 the Fermor household was growing day by day. With such cold 
 defiance, such quick temper, on both sides, it was not improbable 
 
A Remonstrance. 385 
 
 that, to gain an advantage in the struggle, and secure a humilia 
 tion for an antagonist, one or other might forget decency, and 
 make a confidant of that cruel gossip, the Public. 
 
 One night, Fermor, just going out, was summoned down to 
 see a gentleman "in the hall." He came down impatiently, 
 with the words, "I am busy. I really have no time now," on 
 his lips. It was Hanbury. "Well," said he, coldly to him. 
 "What is it now?" 
 
 "Can I speak to you?" said the other, earnestly 5 "five 
 minutes is all I want. It is about yourself, too." 
 
 The servant was standing by, and hindered Fermor's ready 
 and angry answer. He turned on him. 
 
 " Go down, sir," he said. "What are you waiting there for?" 
 
 "Come in here a moment," said Hanbury 5 "I will not detain 
 you. It is something that you should know." 
 
 " Now," said Fermor, as he closed the door, " I thought, on 
 the last occasion, I had made myself understood. If this is on 
 the same topic " 
 
 " It is on the same topic," said Hanbury, firmly. " It is not 
 for me to mind how you take it. To-day I have heard some- 
 thing which it is right you should know. Something which it 
 would be a crime to conceal !" 
 
 This word stopped something in the nature of a protest against 
 "interference." 
 
 "Ah, Fermor, get rid of this wretched sensitiveness, this 
 terrible pride, which is destroying you. What infatuation is this 
 that prevents you from listening to those who mean well, 
 and would do you no harm ? I must speak plainly to you j 
 especially as I must tell you that the world is speaking plainly 
 of you, and is busy with your name and affairs. Oh, Fermor, 
 do listen to me now, without any of this absurd feeling. It is a 
 friend who speaks to you." 
 
 This tone actually took Fermor's breath away. He had no 
 reply to make. 
 
 " It is about Romaine and Mrs. Fermor," he said. " It 
 should be looked to at once. I will tell you what occurred to- 
 day. I was at our club, looking over a paper (though I don't 
 care much for news), and there was a lot of young fellows about 
 an old red-faced officer who was telling them stories. I heard 
 the name of Romaine, and could not help listening. The old 
 man was telling them some of his horrible old stories, and 
 lamenting what he called the f decay of fellows ' at this day, 
 and said that Romaine was the only man that had a spark of 
 
 cc 
 
386 Never Forgotten. 
 
 ' pluck/ And then one of the young fellows, whom 1 knew a 
 little and think of this, Fermor, in a public room ! laughed, 
 
 and said that he knew what he was after, and that soon 
 
 You can guess, Fermor. And the old man laughed and enjoyed 
 it. Oh, Fermor, you would not take my advice ! I warned you 
 in time!" 
 
 The feeling in Fermor's heart was still not mortification, but 
 anger, bitter anger, at a mere " untrained fool" like Hanbury^, 
 setting up to be wise and worldly. " You always come charged 
 with good news," he said. " And how kind of my friends to 
 allow my concerns to be spoken of in a public place that way. 
 I suppose that was friendly, eh?" 
 
 He had now caught H anbury. 
 
 "Exactly. I knew the man," said Hanbury, calmly, "and 1 
 went up to him, and asked him, before the others, had he 
 authority for what he said, or did he merely repeat what he 
 heard ? He said it was merely a vulgar Town story that ( some 
 fellow ' had told. I said that I knew both Romaine and you 
 and the lady, that the whole was perfectly false from beginning 
 to end, and that I knew it, and had opportunities of knowing. 
 That Mr. Romaine was a friend alone in the world with few 
 friends and that it was cruel and wicked to put such a con- 
 struction on what was only good nature and kindness." (John 
 Hanbury did not tell all he had really said or done, or how 
 calmly and temperately he had brought the "young fellow" to 
 account before the rest how he had quietly asked him, was he 
 sure about his information, and did he think it right to bring a 
 mere vulgar rumour like that to the public room, and injure an 
 innocent young girl in that way? "For my part," said John 
 Hanbury, "I know all the parties, and see them almost every day, 
 and I say the whole thing is false false in every particular ; and 
 I am sure after this you will not repeat it any more." The 
 "young fellow," who had not yet lost the virgin bloom of 
 youth, nor had learnt to consider Reputations to be mere low delf 
 figures, with which he could play at " knocks " and " smash " at 
 so many shots for a penny, became a little ashamed, and said he 
 was sure it was a mistake. But the old colonel looked on with 
 disgust, and repeated, that though he knew nothing of the parties, 
 he was "cursed" sure it was no mistake, and that every one of 
 "the lot " -meaning ladies were "skittish," and "up to that 
 game,'* if you only " knew how to take them, dammy !") 
 
 But Fermor, as he listened, grew furious. " And do you mean 
 to tell me you did this made me and her the talk of a coffee- 
 
A Remonstrance. 387 
 
 room ? It will be all over the town ! I tell you, I don't want 
 this championship, or patronage either." 
 
 " Patronage !" said John Hanbury. 
 
 "I don't, I tell you! "the other went on, with increasing 
 excitement. " I suppose it is well-meaning, and all that sort of 
 thing. But I don't want it. I wish to God you would leave 
 me and my concerns alone. I don't want any man to be defend- 
 ing my wife in coffee-rooms." 
 
 " But can you wonder at other people," said Hanbury, quietly, 
 "when you do not seem to care to do it yourself? Surely, when 
 you, who should naturally protect and watch over her " 
 
 " Sir ! Well, that is my concern," said Fermor, " quite my 
 
 concern. Upon my word, it is coming to a pretty pass But 
 
 I must now request " 
 
 "I am astonished," said Hanbury, " I am shocked. I could 
 not believe it of you. Such utter and miserable infatua- 
 tion. It is charitable to suppose you do not see the danger. Ah ! 
 what do you suppose is my concern in this matter? Do you 
 fancy if it were any one else I should expose myself to what 
 might be said ? I may not tell you all. But there is one to 
 whose name I am bound for life, in whom all that I can do or 
 live for is centred. You know who that is as well as I. She has 
 appointed me to this task. Her heart is set on it. And through 
 me she tells you, fly, fly from this place, from this country, and 
 take that poor girl with you. It is the only chance !" 
 
 During this speech, wonder, almost stupefaction, and rage, 
 succeeded each other in Fermor. Wonder at the superior tone 
 and weight Hanbury was assuming - y stupefaction at the message 
 he brought ; and, finally, rage at the confidence and undertaking 
 it implied. 
 
 " I am very glad you tell me this," he said, with trembling 
 lips. "That shows me how I can trust the rest of your advice. 
 Miss Manuel think of such a thing! send me such a message, 
 and by you!" He laughed aloud at the notion. " My good 
 Hanbury, don't come advising me again. Fly indeed! You don't 
 know the world, I can see very clearly." 
 
 " I tell you it is so, on my word of honour," said the other, 
 eagerly. " She loves Mrs. Fermor. She would help and save 
 her. Listen to me, listen to her, Fermor. Only yesterday she 
 conjured me to persuade you. She would give the world that 
 you would go away, and take her advice. Do ! I implore of you, 
 Fermor." 
 
 "How much you know/* said Fermor, struggling with the 
 
388 Never Forgotten. 
 
 sense of superiority. " Poor Hanbury ! Women can easily 
 persuade you. Ah, my good friend, in time you will come to 
 learn that there is more meaning behind what women say than 
 what you would fancy* Often the very contrary to what they say. 
 Well, Hanbury, you are not QUITE in her councils, / can tell 
 you." (The opportunity was overpowering, and could not be 
 resisted. He went on :) " I only say this much : she has her 
 reasons, of course, for speaking to you ; but, / can tell you, I am 
 about th'e last person in Town she would wish to leave it" 
 
 The triumph in his eye was so intelligible, the flush of vanity 
 to his face so marked, and the miserable egotism of the man so 
 naked, that the whole truth came upon Hanbury like an inspira- 
 tion. He started back, as though some one had suddenly 
 whispered in his ear. 
 
 "Oh, Fermor !" he exclaimed, almost with contempt, "to see 
 you so infatuated !" 
 
 Fermor coloured. 
 
 "Blind, indeed!" Hanbury went on. "I was not prepared 
 for this. I now see it is hopeless. It explains all. But be a 
 man ! Get rid of these delusions ! It is almost laughable. She 
 who so lived for and loved that sister ! Why, if there was one 
 whom she should dislike and punish, and whom, indeed, I know 
 
 she But forgive me. I am speaking for your good, you 
 
 know." 
 
 Fermor's fury and mortification combined were now at their 
 height. "You come to insult me," he said. "I don't want 
 you. Don't interfere in my concerns again j I shall take it up 
 seriously, if you do. It is going too far. Never interfere with 
 me again. I warn you." 
 
 "Very well," said Hanbury, sadly 5 "you must take your 
 course. I now see it all. It is the old infatuation, and you are 
 scarcely accountable. You shall not offend me, Fermor, and I 
 shall help you yet, in spite of yourself." 
 
 Fermor was left in a state scarcely to be described. It was 
 the insufferable air of patronage and of superior information and 
 wisdom that galled him more than anything in the world, and, 
 above all, that sort of privity with Miss Manuel. For the first 
 time, too, an uneasy suspicion flashed upon him as to there being 
 some truth in what that " stupid, lumbering, blundering fellow" 
 had hinted. 
 
 From this moment a bitter, fretful desire entered into Fermor 
 to meet with Romaine and quarrel with him. This was indeed 
 but a disguise for that wish to punish some one for the mortifi- 
 
A Remonstrance. 389 
 
 cations that were being heaped on him. Fighting was exploded^ 
 and not to be dreamed of $ and he knew very well that the cool 
 Romaine would not suffer it to come to that. So he racked his 
 brains to discover some way by which he could effectually out- 
 rage and insult him. In this mood, he unluckily came face to 
 face with Mrs. Fermor. Here was the opportunity. She was 
 the Christian thrown to the lions. She was not a cold, skilled 
 hand that could retort upon him or repulse him. At the sight 
 of her, the lecture he had suffered, the mortifications, the suspi- 
 cions about Miss Manuel, all came rushing on him. Here was 
 a fit whipping-post ready to his hand. 
 
 She was in a gentle humour. The sense of her loneliness, and 
 the feeling of desertion, was growing upon her. Perhaps, after 
 all, she had been thinking, she had not been making allowance. 
 
 Perhaps, with a little advance But Fermor burst on her : " It 
 
 seems we are now the talk of clubs and coffee-rooms, and strange 
 gentlemen take up the cudgels for you good naturedly, and say 
 you mean no harm. Cheerful news, eh ? However, that is no 
 matter, as it will all soon end must end." 
 
 This made her as defiant as he was ; as wounded, as rebellious, 
 perhaps as vindictive. " As soon as you please," she said 5 " per- 
 haps sooner. Do you wish the servants to hear as well as the 
 gentlemen in the clubs ? ' ' 
 
 "This tone won't do," said Fermor, with a trembling 
 voice. " I've had too much of it. Most luckily, it is not too 
 late." 
 
 During this speech Mrs. Fermor had thought of a famous 
 retort. She would not have repressed it for the world. "I am 
 glad," she said, her little heart beating fast, "that there are gen- 
 tlemen who take up my cause, and have remarked the treatment 
 I am subject to. I am very glad." 
 
 "Gentlemen or no gentlemen," said he, with a heart beating 
 as fast, " these goings on must be stopped, and stopped promptly. 
 As a beginning, I require peremptorily that" you do not exhibit 
 yourself at this foolish show of Lady Laura's. In fact, I shall 
 take good care that you do not go." 
 
 "And what if I do go?" said Mrs. Fermor, with sparkling 
 eyes. 
 
 "We shall see," said Fermor, scornfully. 
 " And we shall see," repeated Mrs. Fermor, as scornfully. 
 Yet only a few minutes before, during that interval of soft- 
 ness, she was thinking whether, after all, it would not be better 
 to go to him and make this little sacrifice; as a sort of opening 
 
390 Never Forgotten, 
 
 to reconciliation. But now that was all over for ever and ever. 
 If she was to die, she would go. 
 
 Poor Mrs. Fermor ! All helpless, and cast entirely among 
 " gentlemen friends," she had no one to rely upon or look to 
 for aid or counsel. Men, after all, with their free manners, 
 were true beings. Not so faithless, she thought, as women. A 
 hot spirit was working in her veins, a strange excitement, and 
 pride was carrying her forward in this path. She had no time 
 to think. Everything seemed to conspire cruelly to hurry her 
 into that crooked course. Thus she gave directions that Mr. 
 Romaine was not to be let in j for she had begun to shrink from 
 the calm, collected air of direction and authority which he had 
 latterly begun to assume. When he sauntered up the stairs, in 
 defiance of these orders, her face flushed, and she drew back. 
 " I am not at home," she said, excitedly. " I don't want to see 
 people. I said that you were not to come in. You must go." 
 
 " A girl feebly tried to stop me," he said, " but I saw the lie 
 on her lips. Surely I know that you are always at home at this 
 hour. What is the use of this little artifice with me?" 
 
 :< It is very wrong," she went on, passionately, for she felt her 
 own helplessness. " And rude. You think you can do as you 
 please here. I won't permit it," she added, with a little stamp ; 
 "you come here too often, and I have told you so." 
 
 " Perhaps so !" he said, looking at her with genuine astonish- 
 ment, as it seemed to her. " I am sure I do. I must try and 
 mend, though. You tell us these harsh truths a little roughly. 
 You should break the fall, and prepare us. Last day you were 
 kinder. Well! it is only one more like all the rest!" And, 
 taking his hat again, added, " Good-bye." 
 
 There was such a wounded hurt air in his manner, that her 
 heart smote her a little. 
 
 " I always say more than I mean," she said. " I have no 
 choice of words. You understand me, I know. I am worried 
 and miserable. No one stands by me, or, I believe, cares for me 
 now." 
 
 " A discovery !" he said, bitterly. " But that is the old song 
 from the beginning of the world. Who cares for me, I should 
 like to know ? Who has ever cared ? I have given up looking 
 for that sort of article. Only I did suppose," he went on, 
 excitedly, like one of the great dolts which all men are, " that you 
 had a sort of toleration for me a good nature, a sympathy for 
 the poor rough creature who has had his troubles, and whori 
 you encouraged, I say, for some purpose of your own, into a 
 
A Remonstrance. 
 
 39 r 
 
 dream that there was something like heart left on the earth. 
 For a moment I believed in you, Mrs. Fermor ! I supposed 
 that you would not descend to the tricks and deceits of other 
 women." 
 
 " Tricks and deceits ?" she repeated. " Oh no." 
 
 "Using me," he went on, more excitedly still, "for the 
 virtuous end of stirring up the slumbering fires of his affection. 
 / see. Oh, of course," he said, " I am taking a liberty in mak- 
 ing these speeches. But it is the truth." 
 
 "You do me injustice, indeed you do," she said. "I never 
 dreamed of such a thing." 
 
 She felt, in penitential confusion, that she had behaved harshly 
 coarsely even. She would have done anything for an oppor- 
 tunity to show how sorry she was. "Sit down," she said, 
 " won't you ? If you go away at once, I shall know that you 
 are offended." 
 
 "Offended?" he said. "No. It is more in sorrow than in 
 anger as men go away in the novels. Ard yet I don't know 
 what to make of you," he said, sitting down. "I ought to go. 
 And with it all I don I hate you, as I ought to." 
 
 She laughed and tossed her head, as any other woman, the 
 most prudish, might have done in the same case. 
 
 " I have no sense," he said, impatiently. " I have an odd 
 stupid notion, or have dreamt it, that you are a little like 
 myself: that you find that no one understands you, no one cares 
 for you : that you are alone on an iceberg. It is a mere fancy, 
 but it is in my head. No matter whether it be true or not." 
 Mrs. Fermor sighed. "Well, I came to-night, merely because I 
 heard that you were going going at once. My sin was coming 
 to say good-bye." 
 
 "I we never thought of going," said Mrs. Fermor, wonder- 
 ing. "Who told you?" 
 
 " Well ; one who is supposed to be a very great friend of 
 yours and of mine Miss Manuel. She was very eager about it, 
 and wished me to persuade you to go. Why, I wonder?" 
 
 "Why?" said Mrs. Fermor, suddenly flashing out. "Ah! 
 you can't guess j but there is a reason for all these things." 
 
 " It is a good reason, I suppose ?" he said. 
 
 " Is it?" said she. "Ah, you who know the world so well 
 have much to learn ; and so have I. Oh," she said, almost cry- 
 ing, " I don't know where to turn to. Every hour brings out 
 some new treachery." 
 
 " Exactly/' said he quietly. "We are wonderfully like, I see. 
 
392 Never Forgotten. 
 
 Just what I find. But, dear Mrs. Fermor, it grieves me to see 
 you in this way $ you who are so young, and fresh, and fair, and 
 who ought to be very happy. / can't be acting shams $ I don't 
 care to take the trouble. I tell you plainly I have seen that 
 there is trouble on your mind which I may help. Forgive me, 
 if I say what I should not say, and give me but a hint, and I 
 stop. But where I have a deep, earnest, and sincere interest in 
 one who so brusquely turns me into the street " 
 
 " I do indeed believe you to be a friend," said she, piteously. 
 " And I should be ungracious if I did not understand your good 
 will ; but " 
 
 "Now," said Romaine, drawing his chair closer, " I see most 
 things, and where I don't see, I have an instinct. There is 
 Fermor, your husband May I go on?" 
 
 She looked at him irresolutely, and tried to call up her faith- 
 less pride, which was hurrying away to the rear. " I think on 
 this subject " 
 
 "Exactly," he said, pushing his chair away again. " I knew 
 it. Poor llomaine ! he is always going through the ice." 
 
 " Oh, go on," she said, a little fretfully 5 " tell me what you 
 mean." 
 
 "Well," he said, gravely, "Fermor, our friend, your husband 
 a good deal of allowance is to be made for him. He was a 
 beau gar5on once. His head was turned. (Don't be angry.) 
 He has been humoured perhaps spoiled. This I mean in his 
 relation to the common world outside, walking the streets. 
 Well, he treats that world with some airs, and how is that world 
 curing him ? How do you suppose ? By leaving him altogether 
 to himself. The treatment has already had a wholesome effect. 
 It will do him good $ it will soften him in time. You see, the 
 world is the best mistress in the world. You could not, my dear 
 Mrs. Fermor, go to a better school." 
 
 She looked at him wondering, yet comprehending perfectly. 
 
 "Ah, my dear Mrs. Fermor," he went on, eagerly, " we are 
 all too much humoured we men, I mean. You, I fear, are an 
 angel of sweetness" she started "you women, I mean. It 
 does us no good. The more we get, the more we want. We 
 are not a bit obliged for the homage. There is some vile, over- 
 bearing dross in us. Keep us at the grinding-stone, and we love 
 you all the same. The sweet suffering wife is only a drudge, 
 and made a drudge." 
 
 She looked at him still with dilated eyes, but his words brought 
 conviction. Long after he had gone, she sat pondering on them. 
 
A Brave Struggle. 393 
 
 At last she said aloud, " How rude and brutal I was to him, and 
 how gently he bore my pettishness. I begin to think he is my 
 only friend in this world. And all he says is so sensible." 
 
 Never was she so confirmed in her resolution of " dying first " 
 before giving up going to Lady Laura's. 
 
 CHAPTER THE SEVENTIETH. 
 
 A BRAVE STRUGGLE. 
 
 T ADY LAURA'S festival was now fast hurrying on. Once 
 she had determined on it, she went to the task with truly 
 Spartan energy. And, indeed, there was much to encourage 
 her. Though her worn and jaded limbs tottered as she struggled 
 up the steep and stony mountains, still she flourished up on her 
 poor old shoulder a banner with the device of Excelsior. She 
 seemed to force on events by her indomitable will. And it had 
 actually come to pass just a few nights before at old Lady 
 Tozer's, that young Spendlesham, arriving about one A.M., very 
 pink and dewy about his face, and very rich and thick about his 
 speech, and full of kindness and good will to all men and women 
 in his sentiments, had fallen into the meshes of a Calypso, who 
 had been looking out for him for hours, and had been led away 
 to her island a greenhouse upon the stairs where he long sat 
 in a wine-y rapture. Sometimes Calypso made as though she 
 would seek Calypso's mamma, but was checked by Ulysses, 
 who, in his deep rich voice, said, "Don't go yetj" with deep 
 and burning reproach. On which the gentle Calypso began to 
 pry curiously into the joinings of her fan, and asked with gentle 
 suffering where had he been all the night ? On which Ulysses 
 began to protest hotly, " Noin-deed ! But you you want to 
 
 go " 
 
 Later, an hour later, Calypso whispered softly to her mamma, 
 and the worn lines of mamma's face were lit with a flush of 
 hope. She had laboured through the heats, and had quarried 
 iron rocks, and had found what had repaid her. She hurried at 
 once to secure the young lord. She took him captive, wisely 
 and warily, on the spot. " I am so glad," she whispered to him. 
 " This is a happy moment for me. The happiest moment of 
 my life." Had she been at all familiar with Holy Writ, she 
 
3p4 Never Forgotten. 
 
 would nave quoted Nunc dimittis. And then she led him to 
 this person and to that, and exhibited her prize. " Lady 
 Tozer," she said, "you know Lord Spendlesham ; Blanche and 
 he have been settling something together. Most suitable in 
 every respect/' she whispered. My lord, still dewy about as 
 rich and thick in his voice as cura$oa and swinging back and 
 forward to the banister, as if preparing for a spring, said some- 
 thing about a " sharmigirl." Lady Laura kept to him fast, and 
 went through the rooms, dragging him at her car, so that 
 presently everybody, including some safe business-like friends, 
 became acquainted with the joyful news that young Spendle- 
 sham had proposed for that second Fermor girl. For this offi 
 cial publicity was safety. 
 
 Thus inspired, Lady Laura toiled up the heights with renewed 
 energy. Was she at all mortal, or did she find sleep or support 
 from such things as breakfasts and dinners, from meats or wines? 
 Night and day it was all one $ she worked and toiled with head, 
 heart, and hands. She should have been a general in the field. 
 She found everything ; she thought of everything 5 for Blanche 
 and her sister were poor helpless creatures. Yet at this time 
 the tradesmen and tradeswomen were coming thick and fast to 
 the door ; were pressing and loud voiced ; and, once in the hall, 
 refused to depart without audience. The job-master was heard 
 below, turbulent and insolent. Lady Laura, above in her bed- 
 room where a "cheap Dorcas woman" was at work under 
 superintendence, and where her own worn fingers laboured at 
 tulle and silk came down courageously and calmly to meet 
 these rude Troopers. The job-master she worsted ea-sily j with 
 him she took the high tone. She whipped him across the face 
 with " My daughter's marriage with Lord Spendlesham." 
 "His lordship," she said, "will be mounting his establishment 
 when he returns from his wedding tour, and I should like to 
 have mentioned your name to him. He will want hunters and 
 carriage-horses, and all sorts of things. But now you have been 
 so troublesome to me, that really," said Lady Laura, smiling, 
 " I don't see how I can reasonably mention you to him." The 
 job-master was repentant in a moment. " You see 'ow it is, 
 my lady," he said ; " we as keeps 'orses find it very 'ard to make 
 the thing go." And then he said it was of no consequence, and 
 retired. 
 
 With Madame Adelaide her encounter was of a different 
 nature. That shrill and feline milliner had taken off her gloves, 
 which every Frenchwoman wears to hide claws,, and had long 
 
A Brave Struggle. 39 j 
 
 since been " spitting" and screaming at her debtor. She had 
 dared to send an "Attorney's letter" to Lady Laura. Lady 
 Laura drove to her boldly in the job-master's carriage, and coura- 
 geously strode in to her den. " Where is madame ?" she said to 
 the neat Phyllises who were scattered among the bonnets and 
 " dummies." " Send her here, please." 
 
 Madame came, with the feline tusks displayed, and the 
 whiskers almost visible. " I have received this" said Lady 
 Laura, showing the letter. " I shall take no notice of it what- 
 ever. You have injured yourself more than you fancy. My 
 daughter shall not get so much as a bonnet for her trousseau 
 from you." 
 
 " I do not care," said the milliner, " but you sail pay me all 
 de same." 
 
 " At my convenience," said Lady Laura. " I have it here," 
 she said, showing some notes, " but you shall wait. I shall take 
 care that my daughter, who is to marry Lord Spendlesham, shall 
 not deal with you. I have shown Lady John Villiers this, and 
 she says it is outrageous. If I was to tell this generally, I could 
 ruin you." 
 
 Lady Laura drove away in the job-master's carriage again 
 victorious. The milliner made a degrading submission. She 
 found money, too, did Lady Laura, just as skilful spendthrifts 
 find money, and perhaps in the same way. She may have been 
 to a dirty snuffy Jew in a dirty snuffy back parlour, and have 
 raised it on a bill, as well as the clever spendthrift. She may 
 have taken her grandmother's heavy silver teapot and sugar bowl 
 under her cloak, and gone down a remote street in the City, 
 to a silversmith where such things were bought, and where she 
 would have made a good bargain and got more money than 
 another man or woman. There were old diamond earrings, too, 
 which her father had given her when she was a girl, centuries 
 ago, when there were such things for her in the world as affec- 
 tions, and sympathy, and associations, and hearts, before the 
 frosts of fashion had set in and killed every plant and flower. 
 When she took these trophies out of their worn velvet-lined 
 case, something like a faint breath of warmth and softness 
 seemed to come out with them. She handled them with reve- 
 rence. These, it was well remembered, disappeared about this 
 time. 
 
 Workmen were in the house, busy in the drawing-rooms 
 constructing a stage, under Mr. Romaine's superintendence. 
 Fine scenery wis being painted, musicians were secured to play 
 
396 Never For got I en. 
 
 suitable music, and the light green vans of Duval, the well- 
 known monopolist pastrycook, had been seen occasionally at the 
 door. These splendid auxiliaries happily required no ready 
 money. The coming alliance, belled about in the fashionable 
 papers, was accepted as a note of hand, and readily discounted. 
 Madame Adelaide, deeply repentant, was permitted, at her own 
 urgent entreaty, to prepare a gorgeous fancy dress of richest 
 texture and materials, to set off Blanche's charms. The house 
 was in possession of visitors and strangers all day long. It was 
 upside down, topsy-turvy, on its side. There was no breakfast, 
 no dinner, in regular fashion. Nor did the relations with the 
 servants at all times peculiarly delicate permit of any despotic 
 manners. It was understood, however, that they too were to 
 share in the general largess that was approaching, and during the 
 interval suspended all hostile action. Wonderful old Spartan ! 
 she controlled everything, and found everything, and thought of 
 everything, and brought everything gradually into shape. There 
 are many such wives, widows, and martyrs, labouring about us, 
 who do more in their own way than the most slaving lawyer 
 who ever struggled to earn his bread, or to become Attorney- 
 General and Chancellor. 
 
 Another struggle had ended very happily also. The eve of 
 Major Carter's marriage had now arrived. A few stray questions 
 nad come, like " dropping shots," from a few inquisitive persons. 
 That awkward and ugly challenge, " Who is he ?" was of course 
 varied 5 seme putting it in this form : " Who the deuce is he ?" 
 " Who the d 1 is this Carter?" But the replies were satis- 
 factory always 5 and, better than all, Carter was seen quartered 
 with Sir John Westende, that baronet leaning on his arm. A 
 respectable and even brilliant company had been asked, and really 
 secured by the major's exertions, to do honour to his nuptials. 
 
 The universal feeling about Mrs. Wrigiey was, that she was 
 making "an old fool of herself ;" but that about the major was 
 as though he had performed a clever feat, like one who had made 
 a successful adventure in cotton or indigos, or had happily run a 
 blockade. " Of course he'll choke off the poor old soul after a 
 time," said Colonel Foley, in a spirit of rude jest, and leaning 
 both hands on his stick, as if it were a spade. " Carter is a 
 little impatient, deu-side-ly impatient, I can tell you, and will 
 not wait long for any man or woman either." 
 
 The major was coming home that afternoon, looking down oil 
 the flags with a complacent smile of pleasure for he had hap- 
 pily made sure of a young lord out of a cavalry regiment., who 
 
A Brave Struggle. 397 
 
 would be as good as a pine-apple for the feast when he hap- 
 pended to pass near the top of the street, where the Irrefragable 
 had its office. He thought that as he was now going away on 
 this delightful wedding beginning a new life, as it were he 
 might as well give them a last injunction. He walked in and 
 put his usual question, gaily adding, that he supposed he would 
 be paid some day say about the time of the final redemption 
 of the National Debt come now? Mr. Speedy had not yet 
 returned, but would most likely be home the day after to- 
 morrow. "And then" added Mr. Speedy's locum tenens, 
 " you shall hear from us." 
 
 " You must direct, then" said the major, still gaily, "to the 
 Great Hotel in Paris, or to the Isles Britanniques at Rome $ and 
 I declare I had rather you would not, for I don't want to be 
 worried with business now. You don't know, perhaps, that I 
 am going to be married to-morrow morning ? We go across to 
 Calais to-morrow night." 
 
 "Youcfo?" said the locum tenens, astonished. And there 
 was a general up-turning of faces in the office. 
 
 When Major Carter left it, his reflection was the old reflec- 
 tion how ready the world is to do homage to what is flourish- 
 ing in the world. The manner of these fellows "is quite 
 changed to me/' he said, " now that they see I am bettering 
 myself." 
 
 In the office, the locum tenens said hastily to his deputy, 
 " We must have Speedy back at once !" And in a few seconds 
 the messenger was hurrying to the telegraphic-office with a 
 written scrap of paper, 
 
 Still smiling, and still moralising on this " cringing ' cha- 
 racter of the world, the major walked on towards the fashionable 
 quarter. He was painting in for himself this breakfast on the 
 next morning, with the fashionable faces he had secured to 
 grace it. He was reading, in anticipation, the fashionable journal 
 of the day after, and its select list. He grew soft and tender 
 over himself, as he thought of the battle of life he had fought, 
 and fought so successfully. " I had only myself to help me," 
 he said, looking back. " I had to fight my own way, and I 
 think I have done .very fairly. Always been with the best, and 
 have done them no discredit. This is not so bad a finish." He 
 was still smiling to the flags as he walked, when a carriage, 
 which had passed him, stopped suddenly, and a lady called to 
 him. The major's fingers went to his hat by a sort of 
 instinct* 
 
398 Never Forgotten. 
 
 Miss Manuel had been driving here and there, in fact, she 
 knew not whither, still pursued by the eager wish to do some- 
 thing towards stopping the great evil. She suddenly saw Major 
 Carter smiling to the flags (and sometimes tapping them play- 
 fully with his stick), when the thought flashed upon her, 
 " This poor wretch ! I have been labouring to do him mischief. 
 At this moment judgment may be gathering over his head. He 
 s unworthy of serious punishment for what he has done to us 
 A least others may hunt him down if they will and a word to 
 him will be no harm." 
 
 The major's smile passed away as he saw who it was- So,, 
 she was also of that world who came cringing to him as his 
 prospects brightened ! But the game she had played with him 
 was too serious, to be condoned so readily. 
 
 " Major Carter," she said, "I have just stopped to tell you 
 something. I know all sorts of people, and hear all sorts of 
 things. I am told that you are about being married. Let me 
 advise you look carefully to yourself. There are dangers that 
 perhaps you have not thought of. Do not think of marriages, 
 or such things. I confess I am no friend of yours, but still I 
 give you this friendly warning." 
 
 For a second a shade of anxiety and alarm came into his face. 
 Then it was all clear, and he laughed. 
 
 " I know that you are no friend of mine, Miss Manuel," he 
 said. " But I can't be angry with you. You are very clever. 
 I really admire you. But I am not angry with you. We have 
 had our little game out, and it is not for me to say who has 
 been the winner. But you are welcome to the title, with all 
 my heart. I am in good humour with all the world to-night. 
 So, thanks, a thousand thanks, for your very melodramatic 
 warning." 
 
 He was indeed in good humour that evening. As he walked 
 away, he was greatly amused. "What a clever creature," he 
 thought, " and how well she did it ! For the moment she 
 almost took me in. Another man would have been frightened, 
 and perhaps listened to her. Her last move has failed. I should 
 not be surprised if she went mad one of these days." 
 
Major Carter's Wedding-day. 399 
 
 CHAPTER THE SEVENTY-FIRST. 
 MAJOR CARTER'S WEDDING-DAY. 
 
 following morning the day of the Carter wedding was 
 a bright one, with plenty of sun. There was great flash 
 and bustle in the little square where Major Carter lived. 
 Nearly every one round knew of the solemnity. Many were at 
 the windows, and a few on the steps. A series of expresses 
 seemed to be flying backwards and forwards between the major's 
 house and other quarters. He himself, bright and shining as a 
 new suit and the very closest shaving and polishing could make 
 him, was seen in glimpses and flashes, as it were, now flinging 
 himself into a cab and disappearing, now dashing out of a cab 
 on to the steps, into the house, as though he had come with a 
 reprieve for a criminal, 
 
 So with Mrs. Wrigley, the widow, on whose figure workwomen 
 and maids had been at work from an early hour. She was in a 
 sort of fat flutter and trepidation. As she said often, "the 
 moment of her destiny was drawing on." They had invested 
 her with the richest, stifTest, white satin, which was as inflexible 
 as milled board, and dressed her in it, as though she were an 
 idol. Her neighbours knew of it, and were out on their steps ; 
 and a great carriage not the chariot, which was wanted for 
 another purpose waiting at the door, with a huge display of 
 favours and ribbons, proclaimed through the street the general 
 notion of Marriage. 
 
 She was presently at the church, where there was a block of 
 carriages already, belonging to the gay company that Major 
 Carter had so carefully recruited. It was a fine fashionable 
 temple, where the thing was done in a highly fashionable way, 
 and by a highly fashionable incumbent. Where the cushions 
 showed the impressions of select elbows and select knees $ and 
 where the letters of the Commandments seemed to run indis- 
 tinctly into the characters of the Court Guide. In such a 
 temple the rite received extra solemnity 5 and the fashionable 
 incumbent was " assisted" by the Rev. Alfred Hoblush. Thus, 
 standing at the rails, in this atmosphere of Belgravian sanctity, 
 with the crowd of ladies and gentlemen of good degree looking 
 on, Major Carter was united to his bride. The fashionable in- 
 cumbent almost chanted the words of the rite, bleating them, 
 as it were, plaintively ; and to his song the work was accom- 
 plished, 
 
4oo Never Forgotten. 
 
 It was a happy moment for the major. Bride and bride- 
 groom came out together on the top of the little steps in the 
 sort of .little slum at the back of the fashionable temple. But 
 many select rites had glorified the slum. Their carriage was 
 there, and the crowd, who lived in the back lane, and whose life 
 was to see marriages driving away in inexhaustible variety. The 
 major and his bride, enshrined in this carriage as in a casket, 
 drove away in a tumult of happiness. 
 
 At Mrs. Wrigley's mansion was the breakfast, and the com- 
 pany. Such a company! It did honour to the major's re- 
 cruiting powers. It had cost him infinite pains and trouble. 
 To some he had to give " bounties}" others, who might be 
 called "bringers," he had to supply with " head-money $ " but 
 still there were the ranks full, and a goodly show. There was a 
 nice leavening of aristocracy Lord Putnenham, and the Ho- 
 nourable Mr. and Mrs. Brownbill, being present ; there were 
 some ""nice girls," in that gay and glittering plumage which is 
 only seen at weddings and flower-shows -, there were officers for 
 the nice girls, men whom Major Carter took pleasantly by the 
 arm or shoulder 5 there was "Old Foley," tightened almost to 
 gasping 5 Young Brett ; Lady Laura Fermor and her daughters,, 
 who had been persuaded to come with some pains. Young 
 Spendlesham had agreed to come too, but, at the last moment, 
 had sent a note with an excuse about important business. Many 
 and many times did Lady Laura's eyes wander wistfully to the 
 door. 
 
 The feast was sumptuous indeed. The arch-pastrycook had 
 looked to it. Everything rich, or delicate, or costly, was spread 
 out. The bride and bridegroom sat side by side, The fountains 
 of champagne were flowing briskly, and faces framed in white 
 bonnets began to acquire the heated flush which always attends 
 on this morning feasting. It is a proud hour for Major Carter. He 
 thinks again, as he looks down the table, and reciprocates the 
 fat smile of his bride, how he has fought his way, single-handed, 
 through life, without aid from any one, and is now ending so 
 respectably. 
 
 Now we must have some speeching. It is rather a nuisance 
 perhaps a little old fashioned ; but where Lord Putnenham has 
 kindly expressed a wish to air his rhetoric, such considerations 
 must be waived. He does it very neatly, and drily in chips, 
 as it were. A little attempt at humour, which, we may be sure, 
 is not allowed to miscarry. It was an "auspicious" day, he 
 said. His friend Carter, he was sure, had made a judicious 
 
Major Carter's Wedding -day. 46! 
 
 choice. He was sure to make the lady he had selected happy, 
 though his friend Carter, he must say, had one fault he was 
 one of the most unmusical men he had ever met with. (This 
 allusion produced extraordinary merriment.) Yes, his friend 
 Carter, he would do him that justice, did not know a crotchet 
 from a quaver, though he sincerely hoped that in their married 
 life there would be an absence of crotchets of a particular sort. 
 (Roars and applause.) Perhaps that was the reason that he him- 
 self (Lord Putnenham) had never married he was too musical. 
 (Amusement.) The man who had not music in his soul, or 
 would not appreciate a posthumous quartet of the immortal 
 Beethoven's, he would say was fit for treason and stratagem, and 
 all that sort of thing. Though he was quite sure that his friend 
 Carter would not indulge in any stratagems as regards Mrs. 
 Carter (Great amusement) whose health he would now pro- 
 pose, &c. 
 
 It was a happy moment, one to look back to, when Major 
 Carter rose, with half a glass of champagne in his hand. His 
 white crisp face was a little flushed with other half glasses. Kk 
 was inclined to say, " God bless you all," many times over. At 
 least, he thought he was affected. The image present to his 
 mind was that of labouring through a hard life, and having now 
 finally come into a port of ease and quiet. This he expressed, 
 Mrs. Carter looking up at him with the soft gelatine eyes. " I 
 have fought my way," said Major Carter, with the half glass of 
 champagne in his hand, " through difficulties. I am not ashamed 
 of it. I have made friends for myself, and I hope and believe 
 they are not ashamed of me. I have had troubles, and I am not 
 sorry to have had them. It has shown me the value of friends 
 of such friends as I now see sitting round me. We are now 
 going away," continued the major, " I and the lady whom I am 
 proud to call my wife. But we shall return soon, I hope. We 
 shall see and enjoy, I trust the pleasant seductions of foreign 
 countries. We may stay a long time or a short time, according 
 as we find it ; but believe me," and the major's voice faltered a 
 little, "whether long or short, we shall both look forward to the 
 time when we shall return once more and meet " 
 
 Just at this moment, when Major Carter was raising his 
 champagne-glass again, Major Carter's son, who had not been 
 missed at the feast, entered hastily, and hurried down the room, 
 behind the chairs, to where his father was standing. This was 
 an interruption. Every one looked at him, and saw in the son's 
 faro a strange and frightened expression. His father, thus 
 
 D D 
 
4oa Never Forgotten. 
 
 checked rudely, and yet seeing that he was making for him, 
 stopped, and looked angrily at him. Every one felt that this 
 was a most awkward gauche creature, and that the major was to 
 be rather pitied. 
 
 In a second he was at his father's ear, and gave him a short 
 whisper. " What?" said Major Carter, laying down his glass 
 quickly. People at the end even seemed to be straining their 
 ears to listen. The son repeated his agonised whisper. The 
 major's head shot round suddenly to a door behind him. When 
 it was seen again, the champagne flush was gone, and there was 
 a twitching and spasm in the region about his lips. 
 
 A mixed company is quick at reading signs. " What the deuce 
 is it ?" said Lord Putnenham, putting up his eye-glass. " The 
 man is ill, or has heard some bad news." Mrs. Wrigley, heaving 
 in a fright, said anxiously, " Oh, what is it ?" 
 
 The series of ghastly twitches that shot across the major's face 
 were recollected long afterwards. So, too, was the worn and 
 agonised face of his son. More terrible, too, was it when the 
 major, steadying his face, as it were, by his hand, forced a smile, 
 and brought out a few words. 
 
 " A little matter am sure you will excuse me a moment 
 shall not be away long." 
 
 Again his head turned round to the door behind him for 
 there were two to the dining-room and by this one dinners 
 entered. The white bonnets and the faces flushed with heat 
 inside began to turn to other white bonnets. Such do not like 
 any " unpleasantness." " Is it an illness?" it was asked: "or 
 what is it ?" 
 
 Major Carter had gone to that door behind him, opened it, 
 but had shut it hastily, and seemed to put his foot against it. 
 He hurried down the room to the other, that twitch in his face 
 working all the traie, and strange falterings coming from him, 
 which seemed to say, " Back in a moment so sorry a little 
 business." In a second he had shot through the folding-door at 
 the end. 
 
 "Dammy!' said Colonel Foley, who had followed all his 
 motions critically, addressing his neighbour, (f it must be 
 bailiffs ! " The son with the miserable face followed him 
 out. 
 
 Outside, in the street, the accustomed crowd were waiting 
 the carriages for the flushed faces, and the old-fashioned swinging 
 chariot (the coach- box removed), with postilions and poster?, to 
 take away " the happy pair." The curious were expectant. It 
 
Major Carter s Wedding-day. 403 
 
 vra* knov:n that ef she " was an " old woman." Public sympathy 
 was for him. 
 
 The gentlemen attached to the carriages were talking together 
 in a group, and such of them as had canes leant on them. 
 
 Suddenly about the time it was known that the major was 
 addressing the company a cab drove up, and two plain, blunt- 
 looking men jumped out, hurried up the steps, but had rung the 
 bell very quietly. As soon as the door was opened, they had stepped 
 in promptly, without telling their business, and one of them, 
 taking hold of the handle, had shut the door to, himself, very 
 quickly. The gentlemen outside with the canes assumed them 
 to be connected with the feast. They asked for the major. The 
 servants of the house were all about the hall, some at the door 
 listening (with the freedom pardonable on such an occasion) to 
 the major's speech. 
 
 The hard-working faithful son, who was tip-stairs looking to the 
 last preparations for his father's departure, came down to them. 
 One of the hard, plain men, with a sort of tap on his arm, took 
 him aside, and gave him a short whisper, finishing off the whisper 
 with a sharp nod. The son gave a gasp and a half cry, and 
 looked at them with a wild, stupid stare. 
 
 " Better you tell him," said the plain man, " than we more 
 decent of the two. Ah ! two doors, I see." 
 
 And he walked down the passage to the door by which the 
 dinners made their entrance. 
 
 On him had looked out for a second the white twitching face 
 of the major. To the other, who waited in the hall, the white 
 twitching face also presently showed itself. 
 
 <f Now, now," it said, " what is this ? At such a time, too ! 
 Really, most inconvenient ! Now, take care," said he, dropping 
 his voice j " is there no mistake ?" 
 
 " On my word, Major Carter, no, ' said the blunt man. 
 
 " Most inconvenient," said the other, rubbing his white 
 fingers over and over each other. " At such a time, too. Come 
 up-stairs with me to the drawing-room for a moment, will you ?" 
 
 The two rough men agreed, and they went up j Major Carter, 
 in his bright wedding finery, a little in front. Menial eyes 
 wondered exceedingly. The hall door was now open, and the 
 gentlemen on the steps (with the canes) looked in eagerly. 
 There was quite a perspective of menial faces and canes. The 
 two men and the major shut themselves in the drawing-room, 
 and locked the doors. 
 
 A few minutes later, the son, with a miserable and despairing 
 
464 Never Forgotten. 
 
 face, looked into the dining-room, where was the feast in all its 
 magnificence, and the flushed faces, and he whispered to the 
 person nearest, imploringly, " Do go away, and get them to go 
 away. Oh, something terrible has happened ! " 
 
 This was but a whisper, yet somehow every one in the room 
 had an instinct of what was said. There was a sudden rustle of 
 ladies rising, a sound as of chairs pushed back. Even the newly- 
 made Mrs. Carter in an agitation she had not known for years 
 hurried to the door. The ladies fell back from her the 
 female public was outraged at having been seduced into this 
 unpleasantness. 
 
 "But what is it?" said the young cavalry lord. "No one 
 seems to know." 
 
 " Bailiffs, as I hope to be saved," said Old Foley. " I know 
 the look of the thing. I remember Tommy Jackson, at a dinner 
 he was giving to a few fellows " 
 
 In a few moments, by some mysterious means, the word 
 " Police " had got into the room. No one could tell how, for 
 no one could know. Perhaps they read it in guilty characters 
 on the misecable son's face ; perhaps it was in the air, and had 
 forced itself on every one present. Then it was, sauve qui peut. 
 
 "Come, Blanche," said Lady Laura, gathering up her skirts as 
 if she was in the ward of a Fever Hospital. " Let us get away 
 from this dreadful place. Good gracious ! Never mind calling 
 up the carriage they will keep us hours we can walk to it." 
 She was thinking of young Spendlesham. 
 
 At the door, the old chariot and the posters were waiting in 
 stupid immobility. The news had not reached the crowd out- 
 side. But there was a perfect rout. The gentlemen with the 
 canes were busy. The carriages were plunging and converging 
 to the door, while the old chariot stood waiting for its tenants, 
 as if they were really to come out together. The crowd, think- 
 ing so too, gathered more and more on the steps, and looked 
 eagerly into the hall. 
 
 They were never to come out together. Mrs. Wrigley was in 
 her bedroom in fits, with a charitable lady or two trying to 
 help her. One gentleman or two, whose sister or mother or 
 wife had left a shawl or a parasol in the drawing-room, hurried 
 up, and, trying the doors, found them locked. 
 
 Inside, some one had had a glimpse of the miserable Carter 
 sitting handcuffed between two officers. They were waiting 
 charitably for the house to be ( leared. 
 
 Finally, it was cleared. There were wild stories among the 
 
Case against Major Carter. 405 
 
 neighbours, and a Small knot kept about the door for the rest of 
 the day. In a short time arrived Mr. Speedy, who went in. 
 Then the drawing-room doors were unlocked, and a cab called. 
 Then the hall door was opened quickly, and a short thin figure, 
 with a white face, muffled in a great cloak, ran down the steps 
 with a blunt man on each side, and got into the cab. " There 
 he is!" said the little knot. There was no glowing list of 
 fashionable company in the morning papers j but in the evening 
 papers was to be read for a penny an account of the whole. One 
 called it "The Interrupted Wedding," another, the " Esclandre 
 in Fashionable Life." It furnished abundant talk and discussion 
 for a week, and every one who had luckily been at the breakfast 
 was at a premium. 
 
 CHAPTER THE SEVENTY-SECOND, 
 
 CASE AGAINST MAJOR CARTER. 
 
 the hubbub goes on, and people are stopping each 
 other in streets and clubs, asking, " I say, what's this 
 business about Carter ?" we may look back some weeks to that 
 stormy night at Bangor, when young Doctor Jones was away, 
 and Miss Manuel, like an avenging angel, sitting before the old 
 man, who was crouching in his chair. She literally wrung the 
 whole story from him in bits and patches. 
 
 First, he recollected Major Carter, with his wife, coming to 
 the place, and had seen them walking about very often. She, 
 he had noticed, was so quiet and white, and always had her timid 
 eye fixed on the major, as if expecting something. Her voice 
 was gentle, and she feared her husband. The major very often, 
 said the old man, came into the shop, and talked, and talked 
 pleasantly too, but not so much to him. It was delightful to 
 listen to him ; he knew the world so well. He was above them 
 all in this place miles above them. 
 
 The old man's son had just then come home, and had begun 
 to help in the business ; and the major fancied him a good deal 
 more than his father. His reverence for the major far exceeded 
 that of the old man's. "He can do anything, that man," he 
 often said to his father, " He could be prime minister. He 
 ran turn vou and me round his finger. We are mere babies to 
 
406 Never Forgotten. 
 
 him." As indeed they were. And with Dr. Watkyn, Major 
 Carter sometimes took a walk, though in a private direction, for 
 he was careful, and saving of his dignity. And young Dr. 
 Watkyn was heard to say often, that he would to Heaven that 
 man could stay for years in the place. His words were like 
 gold. 
 
 Presently, Mrs. Carter, always ailing, began to become ill re^ 
 gularly, and the major became changed into the most devoted of 
 nurses. 
 
 " I was brought to see her,'* said the old man, (f and my son 
 was brought too. And I will confess that, being accustomed 
 only to the .plain, intelligible sicknesses of our rough country 
 people, and my son having much the same sort of experience, 
 we could not make much of the matter. The major had all the 
 feeling in the world, and tried to help us as well as he could ; 
 but what could be made of a lady who was wasting and wasting, 
 and growing sick, and then growing well, and then wasting 
 again ? We could only call it consumption. At last, on one 
 
 Sunday night, when we had been at meeting Must J tell 
 
 you ?" 
 
 Miss Manuel, with her eyes on the coals, said, impassively^ 
 "Goon." 
 
 Those Welsh coals, long undermined like a little quarry, sud- 
 denly crumbled down and made him start. " Go on," she said 
 again. " Finish." 
 
 " Ah, begin, you should say," he replied, " for it is all to 
 come yet. That night I had been rummaging among our old 
 jars and jugs, looking for some calomel, and found, as you have 
 often found, perhaps, a heap of things that I had no idea I had. 
 As I was rummaging and dusting, the major came in and sat 
 down despondingly upon a chair. * Worse to-night, Jones,' he 
 said. ' Only think; the faithful partner, who has held to me, 
 come weal, come woe, for so many years ! ' 
 
 "At this moment, a neighbour came in with a long story 
 about his wife, Jenkin, who was lying ill, and could get no sleep 
 at night from a herd of cats who had their meetings at the 
 back of his house. ' Give me some poison, doctor,' he said. 
 
 " I recollected finding among the other things a little strych- 
 nine, which got there I don't know how. I gave him some, 
 and went out to the door with him to talk over the state of his 
 wife, leaving the major behind leaning his head on his hand." 
 
 Miss Manuel slowly turned her face away from the coals, and 
 \vas looking eagerly at him. 
 
Case against Major Carter. 40 7 
 
 " I only say this," said the old man, looking restlessly from 
 side to side. " Two days later, the neighbour came back for 
 more of the poison, which had done good work, and I never 
 could find it. Even that night I missed one of the bottles, but 
 I did not know it was that one. When the neighbour came 
 again I could not find it, and something whispered me that the 
 major had taken it. It seemed unjust unreasonable wicked 5 
 but the idea took possession of me." 
 
 The wind, long kept waiting, was now thundering at the old 
 bow-window, as if it had suddenly found a shoulder, and was 
 driving furiously with that shoulder against the door. 
 
 The old man shrunk away in terror, and stopped for a 
 moment. 
 
 " The neighbour came pretty often for he was anxious about 
 his wife to see if I had found it, and came often, too, when 
 the major was sitting in the parlour. ( What a fuss/ he said 
 one day, in a pet, ' about that wretched stuff! I never come in 
 here but you are harping on it. Give that fellow something 
 else, and have done with him.' 
 
 " ' Well/ said I, ' major, it was very odd the way it disap- 
 peared.' 
 
 "'Very odd I* he said, impatiently 3 "in this wild nest of 
 confusion, it is a wonder you can find anything.' 
 
 " My son had to go up to the major's wife the next night, 
 who was very ill indeed, in something like catalepsy. ' A new 
 shape, father/ he said to me, when he came home. 'That 
 woman is running the round of every sickness in the Clinical 
 Medicine. I can make nothing of her. There she is, now 
 chattering and trembling, and her spine going tike a pendu- 
 lum ' " 
 
 " What idle stuff this is !" said Miss Manuel, suddenly. " All 
 foolish dreams ! And this is your story ? You mislay a dusty 
 old bottle, and you talk of poisoning ! A nightmare." 
 
 "Ah! I wish it were," said he, crooning the words out sor- 
 rowfully. " But my son, a week later, searching in a cupboard 
 in her room when the major had gone down, found the very 
 bottle (for it had a special make) I wish that had been a night- 
 mare !" 
 
 Again Miss Manuel's eyes sparkled with interest. She said, 
 " You know something more." 
 
 "Ay," said he, "and that she herself told us. That is her 
 scared looks at him. Never for a single moment and this I 
 remarked did he allow any one to be in the room with her 
 
408 Never Forgotten. 
 
 ivithout being there himself. He was on guard always. Once 
 she half whispered to me, ' For God's sake send me no more ' 
 (drugs, she meant), ' they are killing me 5' and that moment he 
 came with some cooling drink for her. 
 
 " ' No, no ! no more,' she said, half rising up in her bed. ' I 
 will have nothing else. Ask these doctors. I shall die soon $ 
 but not by ' 
 
 " ' Hush, hush ! ' said the major, laying his hand on her 
 shoulder. ' This is for your good,* dear. You must take the 
 things. Look ! I should ask nothing better myself.' And he 
 drank some of it with relish, and with his eyes fixed upon her. 
 She hung down her head and took it silently. " Ah,' he said, 
 with a sigh, ' someway we two have never understood each other 
 through our lives, and never will. It is too late, I fear, now.' 
 I believed in the major that night. 
 
 " Two nights after, Mrs. Carter died. They came running 
 for me (I was stronger then than I am now) about eleven 
 o'clock, and I went up. She was shaking and chattering with 
 her teeth clenched, and the major and his son holding her by 
 the wrists. I never heard such shrieks and such signs of agony. 
 Her eyes were starting out of her head. But we could do 
 nothing. Towards morning she got quiet, and by six, when one 
 of those spasms was coming on again, went off with a shriek, 
 and a sort of jump into the air. 
 
 " Two days after she was buried, the major came to me in my 
 parlour. He was in deep grief, and wanted a certificate of her 
 death, and the cause of her death. It was a matter of form. 
 I was very silent, and, I suppose, suspicious. 'Why do you 
 want this ?' I said. 
 
 " ' As a matter of form,' he said, ( I must look to these 
 things for the sake of my son. It is odious to me at this time, 
 when I should be at the grave of my wife j but some one must 
 look to these things. We must have this, to get some little 
 property to which she is entitled.' 
 
 If < How ? ' I said. < Through a will ? ' 
 
 " ' Oh, that is no matter,' he said, shortly. ' All I want is the 
 formal paper, just to satisfy those insurance people. 1 
 
 " I started up. ' Oh, it was an insurance, then ? Ah, Major 
 Carter!' 
 
 ''He stamped his foot. 'What do you mean?' he said, 
 turning on me. ' Take care ! No tricks of this sort- I warn 
 you it will be dangerous trying them with me.' 
 
 " ' But I don't know,' I said (he had quite scared me), ( what 
 
Case against Major Carter. 409 
 
 I am to sign. I know no cause of death. It seems all myste- 
 rious.' 
 
 " -'Then/ said he, promptly, ' try your " post mortem." Look 
 for yourselves, both of you. I give full permission. If you 
 doubt your own skill in these matters, get some one else that has 
 skill, and I will pay. What is it you are at ? * My son here came 
 in, and Major Carter addressed him. ' What is this humour your 
 father has got into ?' he said. ' I can't follow him. He is hesi- 
 tating about giving the plain formal thing always given. God 
 knows I have trouble enough without having old men's scruples 
 to remove. See to it, Watkyn, do. I am tired and sick.' 
 
 " I am weak, I am afraid, but my son spoke with me, and 
 reasoned with me, and showed me what he thought was the 
 folly of these scruples. Later, too, when the major's cold eye 
 fell upon me, it quite terrified me. That night he came back 
 when my son had just gone out, stayed exactly a minute, but 
 during that minute fixed that dreadful eye upon me, and said, 
 coldly and distinctly, ' Mind what you are about, and take a 
 friendly hint. I have crushed many as obscure, as an obscure 
 country doctor. Take care I don't stamp you under my foot. 
 Be wise $ ' and he threw the paper down on the table $ ' make 
 up your weak mind before the night is over !' 
 
 " Well, I signed that night, and and have had a weight upon 
 my conscience ever since. It has put ten years to my sixty 
 years, and has made me decrepit and miserable. These stormy* 
 nights, which come so often, make me tremble. Listen ! there 
 it goes 5 and I often think, if I were to be called away in one of 
 these wild hurricanes what " 
 
 For more than an hour he sat and cowered under Miss 
 Manuel's eye, sometimes shrinking away in alarm, and stopping 
 short in what he was telling ; refusing, in abject terror, to say 
 more. Then would come a burst of the wind, and a sudden 
 howl from the storm outside, and he would shrink and fling his 
 head into the cushions of his chair, as if it were the earth. 
 When he looked up again, he would see the calm face of Miss 
 Manuel opposite to him, like a judgment. He was driven on. 
 When all he had to tell had been wrung from him, one of the 
 wild hurricanes came down the street, and brought with it the 
 clatter and the roar and the metallic jingling of dislodged slates 
 cantering down the street on their edge. With it, too, came 
 the sound of horses' feet and of wheels, which stopped suddenly 
 at the door. Then there were voices. The old man was on his 
 feet in an agony of terror. 
 
4.10 Never Forgotten. 
 
 " It is a judgment on me," he said. " He is come again, and 
 he will tell that man, and I shall be destroyed. Go ! go quick ! 
 leave me here. Oh, if he should find you " 
 
 " Hush !" said Miss Manuel. " You may trust me. No one 
 shall know a word, not even the whisper of a word." And she 
 had flown to the door, and was up-stairs in her room in a second. 
 
 It was the son come home. The eminent country doctor had 
 by some accident been beforehand with him. The pink Welsh- 
 man was soured. He started when he saw his father at the 
 door. " Not in bed !" he said, roughly. " What work is this ? 
 What have you been at ? Come ! ' ' 
 
 The old man quavered out some excuse about having fallen 
 asleep. But the son was suspicious, with the suspicion, too, of 
 ill humour, and went away lowering at the pale and trembling 
 father. He was yet more suspicious when Miss Manuel 
 announced that she was going away, and took an early train to 
 London. Most joyful was the maid in whose service she was. 
 
 Later, Mr. Speedy, and, later still, the Crown solicitors, came 
 to gather up yet further details. They groped and ferreted here 
 and there, but they found the scent had grown cold. There 
 were terrible gaps, and a dozen links wanting here and there, 
 and no dexterity of the legal whitesmith could join them. Still, 
 there was " a fair case" to go to a jury on a case handsomely 
 suspicious. But misfortunes came thickly. Old Doctor Jones 
 died suddenly j and though his testimony, such as it was, was 
 forthcoming in another shape, still it would not have such an 
 effect " with the jury." An eminent Nisi Prius advocate had 
 been secured for the prisoner, who would " knock to pieces " the 
 " wretched case for the Crown," made up, as it was, of " old 
 medicine bottles," and of the damaged capacities of a miserable 
 old dotard, who " crooned" all day and night over a fire, and 
 who, his neighbours would show, had not been in his right mind 
 for years. Claypop, M.P., " in his place " in the House, put a 
 question to the Home Secretary, and threatened to move for 
 papers and correspondence, and the Home Secretary said ho 
 would communicate with the legal advisers of the Crown. In 
 various newspapers there were articles headed " Major Carter's 
 Case." It was taken up so warmly, and every day grew so 
 weak, that presently all proceedings were dropped. It was 
 spoken of by Major Carter's " friends " as " a conspiracy." But 
 Mr. Speedy and the insurance office kept him at bay $ and cer- 
 tainly Major Carter never attempted to enforce his claim by 
 process of law, 
 
The " Moderates' Club" 
 
 CHAPTER THE SEVENTY-THIRD, 
 THE " MODERATES' CLUB." 
 
 rPHE town still talked for some days of this " painful " busi- 
 ness, and a morning penny journal had a gaudy leading 
 article, worked in all the rich colours of word painting. At the 
 Moderates' Club, Sir Hopkins Pocock, now become faintly 
 querulous, and with a grievance in his pocket which he took out 
 to show every one that he met, acquired some little importance 
 by his patent rights in previous portions of the major's history. 
 "I know all about him 5 I know all about him," he said, 
 pushing himself into a knot of Moderators. " Bless you ! 
 there was a very curious business at Monaco, long ago. I never 
 
 told of it before; but now " And then Sir Hopkins began 
 
 a calumnious little history about a bill, and the'' clergyman of 
 the place's son, who was only fourteen, sir, and looked twelve 
 (" quite a child ! Oh, it was very bad !") 5 by reason of which 
 adventure the major had to hurry away precipitately from the 
 place. Into which little story, however, he managed to intro- 
 duce so many ingenious references to his own hard condition, 
 and to the cruel way in which his public services had been 
 acknowledged, that the more youthful Moderators yawned in 
 his face, and, going away, told other Moderators that " Old 
 Pocock was at it again." 
 
 To this society belonged Romaine and Fermor, and many more 
 of the same standing. It was a little select, more fashionable 
 than political, and to Romaine's exertions Fermor had indeed 
 owed his entrance. This obligation with some more of the same 
 social cast he was now carrying about, like a coal of fire on his 
 head. On this night Fermor was dining by himself at a lonely 
 table, full of bitterness. The club joint was tasteless to him j 
 for, close by, with his back to him, was Romaine with three 
 others dining in great spirits, and Romaine more sarcastic, 
 boisterous, noisy, and even insolent, than usual. Old gentle- 
 men, busy with their newspapers, protested with fierce looks 
 against his merriment. They were talking of the wedding. 
 
 "I knew it all along," said Romaine, in a noisy burst. " I 
 told every man I met it would come to a business. Ask Wallis! 
 And yet a good fellow ! I am sorry for him, I am indeed. He 
 was always civil to me. I believe it is a conspiracy $ or, if it's 
 lot, it's all one. I like him the better for it. I wish all the 
 
4.12 Never Forgotten. 
 
 old wives in the world could be got rid of in the same way. I 
 do, on my soul ! But he had enemies dozens of them. I have 
 reason to know it." 
 
 "Tell us about it., Romaine," said some of the others. "Do 
 now." 
 
 "Oh, it will all come out by-and-by," said he. "They want 
 to turn him into a felon. I suspect a certain lady-friend of ours 
 to be at the bottom of it j one of your fine flashing Judith-and- 
 Holofernes pattern." 
 
 " Bet you a sovereign I name her/' said a man opposite him. 
 " Alfred-place ! eh?" 
 
 "Keep your sovereign for your tailor, my friend/' said 
 Romaine, contemptuously. " For a wonder, you have made a 
 guess. You all know," he said, dropping his voice, "that Miss 
 Manuel ! She has done the thing, I'll swear ! I know her 
 touch ! It's so shabby, and so like a woman : all about a sister 
 of hers." 
 
 "She's a fine woman, though," said the "man" who had 
 offered the sovereign. 
 
 "Fine woman!" said Romaine, with disgust. "1 hate to 
 hear fellows talk in that way, as if they were speaking of joints 
 of meat. Fine or not fine, I dislike her. She is dangerous and 
 spiteful. I recommend all here to keep clear of her." 
 
 Fermor listened, and heard all this with tingling cheeks. Her 
 name to be bandied about in this low way in a public room, 
 before waiters and " men ! " Long he had been watching for an 
 opportunity of some quarrel with Romaine 5 some reasonable 
 opening, when he could "put him down." It seemed to be 
 now hurrying on. 
 
 Romaine had turned suddenly, and had seen Fermor. " Oh, 
 ho!" he said, "we must mind what we say. How de do, 
 Fermor ? He is one of her sacred band. Don't denounce us, 
 Fermor." 
 
 There were a dozen feet between Fermor and the others. 
 Over such a space he could not bring himself to hurl back the 
 retort he wished ; so he made no answer. 
 
 Presently Romaine and his men went away noisily to the 
 smoking-room, and then to the billiard-room. Fermor got up 
 promptly and followed them. He never took his eyes off 
 Romaine. The other seemed to understand him perfectly, and,, 
 as he smoked and played, kept up a running fire of strokes at 
 him all the night. Young Brett presently dropped in and 
 looked on. 
 
The " Moderates' Club: 4 z 3 
 
 "That's the style/' said Romanic, pocketing a ball with 
 extraordinary violence. " Look at that, Fermor ! That's the 
 way / treat any man, woman, or child, that interferes with my 
 play. Pocket them, eh ?" 
 
 He looked at Fermor insolently as he walked past him to 
 make a fresh stroke. 
 
 "Who is going to the fancy ball, rout, whatever it is?" asked 
 Romaine, again stooping to play. " I am, I know. I have 
 arranged a tableau for myself my own actors. Ring, Brett, 
 like a good lad, for brandies and sodas. I wish there was a com- 
 pany to lay on soda in the streets like a main. I'd pay what 
 rates they asked. I hear Fermor here is going with a lantern 
 and cloak as Guy Fawkes ha, ha ! There we go again ! No- 
 thing like it. What dress is your fine friend going in, eh, 
 Fermor ? The Queen of Sheba, eh? I should like to tell that 
 lady some home truths. For the world I would not breathe her 
 name in a mixed company, of course $ but Fermor understands 
 perfectly." 
 
 Three of the men suddenly went out. Fermor, boiling 
 furiously at the recollection of past injuries, thinking, too, of 
 the rebellion at home, thought the moment was come. He had 
 a thought, too, of some false chivalry, as he fancied himself the 
 champion of Miss Manuel. He jumped from his place. 
 
 " I have put up with this too long," he said. " I won't bear 
 it. You have laid yourself out the whole evening to insult me. 
 I tell you I won't bear it." 
 
 "Well, do not," said Romaine, getting his cue into position. 
 " Just stand a little away, my friend, and continue your remarks 
 at the other side of the table." 
 
 " I will not listen to your slanders and on a lady ! It is 
 infamous, unworthy ! Before leaving this room, you must 
 retract I tell you, you shall." 
 
 Romaine laughed loudly and good humouredly. " We have 
 stirred you up," he said "and with a billiard cue. However, 
 let us hear you out. Goon. Well?" 
 
 " I say, Fermor, Fermor," said Young Brett, anxiously, 
 "what are you at ?" 
 
 " He must retract," said Fermor, excitedly. " I'll have none 
 of his insolent speeches at me ! I shan't be made the butt of 
 his smart words. You heard him. Every one here heard him. 
 I have long been wanting the opportunity." 
 
 "Nonsense," said Young Brett. "Don't you see it is all a 
 joke?" 
 
414 Never Forgotten. 
 
 " Don't interfere with me, Mr. Brett/' said Fermor, turning 
 on him. " This man understands me perfectly ; and it is a long 
 account. He has other things to reckon with me for. He knows 
 it." 
 
 "Well," said Romaine, suddenly becoming grave, and resting 
 on his billiard cue. " Well, here I am now, and here is the 
 opportunity. Shut the door, Brett, like a good boy. Now, let 
 us hear all about it. I am now before you, Mr. Fermor, or 
 Capta'm Fermor. I only give you a caution in the friendliest 
 spirit imaginable 5 don't try anything of this sort," he said, 
 doubling his fingers. " I never boast j but I give you my word 
 of honour, I broke a man's skull in a fall, who did try it. I 
 didn't intend it. Now, what is it you want ?" 
 
 Fermor glared at him. "Not boast!" he said. "I am no 
 match for you at that, I know. But " 
 
 " No, you are not," said the other, "nor at anything else. Do 
 you want pistols, and police on the ground, and all London 
 laughing at us? A cheap way of getting a reputation for 
 bravery. Are you for a theatrical duel, with the principals 
 arrested and bound over ? A public challenge in the public room 
 of a club ! Not a soul to know of it ! I admire you upon my 
 soul I do. Now what else do you want, Mr. Fermor?" 
 
 More " men " were dropping in now, brought by that curious 
 instinct which leads men to the scene of a commotion. There 
 was a sort of a little audience. Romaine's eye rested on him, 
 and Romaine's hand rested on the cue. 
 
 Fermor did not feel easy under that eye. He tried a poor 
 abortion of a sneer. " I have no knack,' he said, " at those 
 smart words. I am not a match for you at " 
 
 Again Romaine laughed witk noisy good humour. " Indeed 
 you are not, Fermor. Neither at billiards, nor at the gloves, 
 nor at the tongue, nor at anything else in the world." 
 
 " I thought you never boasted!" struck in Fermor, bitterly. 
 
 "Oh, sometimes a little," said the other. "We are all 
 weak, you know. Now, my friend, while you are making up 
 your mind as to what you are going to do, pray let me go on 
 with my game. There! the old story. Pocket again. Ha, ha !" 
 
 Fermor almost ground his teeth with rage. But he had a 
 curious shyness, which in presence of a crowd palsied his wits, 
 if not his tongue. He could have readily found such rough 
 stock words as, "you are a ruffian, a coward," and the like. 
 But, to do him justice, he shrank from such Billingsgate. The 
 "men" looked on, wondering. If faces could stab, wound, 
 
The " Moderates Clul" 415 
 
 beat, scourge, then was Romaine tied to a stake, and gashed and 
 scourged thoroughly. But, as it was, he saw that he had the 
 victory. 
 
 "What is it all about ?" said the " men." 
 
 <f We have been having an argument, Fermor and I," he said, 
 " and I believe I have the best of it. Another good stroke." 
 
 At last the games ended, the night ended, the "men" 
 dropped away. "Now to get our great coat," said Romaine. 
 <f I have made a very good night's work of it, beaten everybody 
 all round/' and he looked at Fermor. He lit a cigar at the door. 
 Fermor followed him close. 
 
 "Well," said an old member, "well, Fermor, you are about 
 the most even-tempered man I ever came across. Hang me ! 
 but I would have slapped him in the face I would." 
 
 Fermor paused> bit his moustache, and then flew out after 
 Romaine. 
 
 "You don't mean to tell me you are coming my way ?" said 
 Mr. Romaine. " Well, well." 
 
 "You shall not escape me now," said Fermor, walking 
 hurriedly beside him. " You have no audience here. Once for 
 all, you must account to me for your behaviour. I have you 
 here." 
 
 "Beginning again?" said Romaine, buttoning up his coat, 
 and puffing away at his cigar. "Hints, lessons, all thrown 
 away, I see." 
 
 "It is unbearable," said Fermor, walking furiously. "You 
 have no spirit. Any other man would have You are a " 
 
 "Hush, husii, nonsense," said Romaine. " I don't think you 
 know the full force of what you are saying. As you say, there 
 is no audience here, and you are getting courage. My good 
 friend, it is well you did not bring out that ugly word that 
 was on your lips. I tell you calmly and candidly, if you 
 had " 
 
 " Well ? ' ' said Fermor, trying a sneer. 
 
 " Well ? I should have waited until we came to this lamp- 
 post, seized you, and I fear broken your spine. If you doubt 
 me, just as an experiment try and say it. Come !" 
 
 Under the lamplight came from Romaine's eye such a sharp, 
 wicked flash, and there was such an Indian savageness about his 
 lips, that Fermor saw in a second that he was in earnest. 
 
 Luckless Fermor ! it was the deepest humiliation. But there 
 was a ferocity in the other's face that could not be trifled 
 with. 
 
416 Never Forgotten. 
 
 Hut some one else stopped suddenly under the lamp, started, 
 and spoke. 
 
 " Fermor !" he said, " here ! What is this about ?" 
 
 " Ah, Hanbury !" Romaine said. "I am so glad. Corne and 
 look. Look at our friend. He has been a little pettish to-night 
 given me all manner of trouble." 
 
 This was, indeed, humiliation. Hanbury felt for him. 
 
 " Come, come," he said, "this is the public street. Come, let 
 us go. Do, now." 
 
 " It is the public street, my friend," said the other, gaily. 
 " That is just the reason." 
 
 " Here, I want to speak to you, Romaine. Look suppose 
 some of the club men were to pass ? Nonsense. You have had 
 enough amusement." 
 
 He was very strong stronger than Romaine and gently and 
 good humouredly drew him away. 
 
 " It won't do, after all, Fermor ! You will have to pay a 
 fellow, as they do in Ireland, and get him to do the job. There's 
 your hat. Don't try that again, I would advise you. Now don't 
 persist in seeing me home. In fact, my good Fermor, as a 
 general rule, don't think of interfering with me." 
 
 Fermor was now free. All his fury burst out. He drew back, 
 and was going to fly at Romaine, but the latter threw his cigar 
 on the ground, and, raising his arm, said, in a tone there was no 
 mistaking, " Take care, take care ! Hanbury, I give you notice, 
 I shall not put up with any tricks of this sort. Take care, now. 
 I warn you." 
 
 Hanbury stepped between them. He saved Fermor. " Go 
 home," he said, "Fermor 5 it is all a joke." 
 
 Romaine walked away very fast, and even singing, and left 
 the unhappy Fermor glowering, almost moaning, with rage. But 
 he was half tamed. "This man has a spell over me," he said, 
 passionately. The moment Romaine was gone he felt a frantic 
 impulse to rush after him, and again "bring him to account." 
 He went home that night degraded to himself, and the men at 
 the club were very jocular over the "devilish diverting way" 
 that Romaine had handled him. 
 
 The spectacle had, however, troubled young Brett, that excel- 
 lent Samaritan, not a little. He understood what was in Fermor's 
 mind, and he began to pity him. He was his old friend, and his 
 old friend he had admired so. " He was no match," he thought, 
 " for that rude rough man." So this honest boy was with Miss 
 Manuel next day, telling her the whole. " I am sorry for him, 
 
NeW s for Lady Ldura. 417 
 
 indeed I am," he said. " I wish I could help him. And indeed, 
 Miss Manuel,, you have a friend in him, for he was fighting your 
 battle like a trump. Not, indeed, that any one was saying any- 
 thing that is " And he stopped in some confusion. 
 
 Pauline smiled. " Do you think I mind ? You may tell me 
 the truth. They were abusing me, and he defended me. Well? 1 ' 
 
 <f Defended you! " said Young Brett, with enthusiasm ; " it was 
 a regular championship. He would have fought Romaine for 
 you. Really, he wanted to have him out at once. You ought 
 to like him, I say, Miss Manuel." 
 
 After Young Brett was gone, Miss Manuel thought of this 
 with softness. " It is something to have a friend," she said, 
 " and if I had any influence with him for her sake, I might use 
 it to bring him back to that child who hates me so." Later, 
 she sat down and wrote, and directed a letter to Captain Fermor. 
 
 CHAPTER THE SEVENTY-FOURTH. 
 
 NEWS FOR LADY LAURA. 
 
 was now the day of Lady Laura's great festival. Every- 
 thing had been hurried on, and everything was ready under 
 her captaincy. She had found money, time, stage properties, 
 people, everything j for, even in their own department, Blanche 
 and Laura junior were to all intents and purposes utterly help- 
 less. She would have turned out the same in any department. 
 Had she been suddenly appointed to the commissariat she would 
 have found a sudden instinct for the duties, and have performed 
 them quite as well as the men of the regular service. She now 
 showed that she knew about scenes and about painting, and with 
 good sense directed the working hands whom she was obliged 
 alas ! at great cost to have in. She even trained Laura junior 
 and Blanche, and taught them some happy and effective poses. 
 She found time for all this, and it was not known that the 
 charming Swiss shepherdess dress, in which Laura was to appear, 
 had been privately put together by those old, and worn, an</ 
 untiring fingers, though popularly believed to be a triumph ot 
 Madame Adelaide's skill. She had been a little disturbed at 
 
 
 
4i 8 Never Forgotten. 
 
 ifoung Spendlesham's absence from the wedding breakfast $ but 
 she soon discovered that he had been called away suddenly to the 
 country, but would be back that evening positively. For the 
 moment she had been disquieted, but this news set everything 
 straight. 
 
 On this last day she was everywhere in working clothes, as 
 it were. She overlooked the men putting up a canopy at the 
 hall door, and others busy forming the balcony into a temporary 
 chamber, which she knew would be valuable for the purposes for 
 which she had lived. These were sad expenses $ but they were 
 of the last necessity, and she had got them put up far cheaper 
 than any man or woman in town could have had them put up. 
 Nor was she without hopes of profit for her outlay ; for 
 already she seemed to detect on the edge of the web she had 
 spun round Laura junior (Laura junior was incapable of forming 
 a web for herself), a figure of fair proportions looking in curi- 
 ously. That night might see him floundering helplessly in the 
 net. Success brings success, just as eating brings on appetite. 
 
 To this day, too, many had been looking forward. But in the 
 Fermor houso i<; was to bring on a crisis. That unhappy gentle- 
 man had come home degraded it may be but full of miserable 
 pique and rage, that could not find the object it desired, 
 but thirsted for a victim. He associated Mrs. Fermor with his 
 treatment. " If I die for it, ' he said, " she shall not have this 
 opportunity!" It was remarked by the ladies and gentlemen 
 below, that the lord and lady of the house " did not speak " now. 
 News of the family emeutes had penetrated to neighbouring 
 areas. Mrs. Fermor to whose injuries every day's neglect added 
 met his treatment with stern defiance, and was girding herself 
 up for this last struggle. 
 
 Not, indeed, that she cared for that wretched sliow. She shrank 
 from it, and from the unknown issues that rested on it. But 
 her coral lips, a little thinner than they had been, were pressed 
 together with the tightness of defiance. One soft word, and 
 they had been relaxed ; but she only saw corresponding defiance, 
 and a sort of unconditional hostility. 
 
 It was a gloomy day, and seemed charged with presentiments. 
 Later on, towards the evening, came the servant to know at what 
 hour the carriage would be wanted. Mrs. Fermor was passing 
 up-stairs, and she heard her lord in the hall below, saying in a 
 loud sour voice, " It is not wanted to-night. Who said it was ? 
 What does the fellow come worrying here for ? He will be sent 
 to if required." 
 
News for Lady Laura. 419 
 
 " He was told to call, sir. Mrs. Fermor sent me." 
 
 " I tell you he is not wanted/' said Fermor, furiously. 
 
 And the serving gentleman, at the evening tea, informed his 
 friends below that up -stairs they would be " hat it again afore 
 night !" 
 
 Mrs. Fermor, on the stairs, heard this interdict of the car- 
 riage. "So he wants to drive me to extremities," she said. 
 " Let him, then. Here, John !" she called out, " don't let the 
 man go yet." And she stepped down excitedly to battle. 
 
 She shut the study door. " What is this about the carriage?" 
 she said, trying to speak calmly. " I shall want it to-night." 
 
 " Is it to go to this thing, pray ?" he answered her. 
 
 " No matter for what purpose," she replied. "I am entitled 
 to it. I am sure you don't intend to expose our affairs to 
 the talk of the people below." 
 
 " Not for that. I told you before I don't choose you to go 
 to that place. I am determined, I know, and I want no argu- 
 ment about it." 
 
 "That remains to be seen, ' he said, her foot beating the 
 floor. " I am going. Fortunately, there are other carriages to 
 be got." 
 
 " Mr. Romaine's, I suppose ?" he said, with a sneer. 
 
 " Mr. Romaine is a gentleman, and a true friend to me," she 
 answered, with trembling voice. " He would not expose me in 
 this way." 
 
 " You had better go with him in a cab, I suppose/' said he. 
 ' f Don't talk to me about him. I don't wish it. I have made 
 up my mind, and I have told you so, and I give no reasons. 
 There!" 
 
 " No wonder you don't like to talk of him," she went on, 
 quite flaming with excitement $ " you are brave to me, but I 
 know you are in terror of him." 
 
 Fermor turned white. This allusion was but an accident, but 
 it seemed as though she had heard about that night, and was 
 taunting him. He started up, and pointed to the door. " Oh ! 
 after this" he said, almost choking, "go! go! leave me. Now we 
 understand each other. Go away, I say. I shall end this in 
 some way and before long, too. It is all over now." 
 
 He did not know what he was saying or what he was doing. 
 She was a little scared, because not understanding the real reason 
 of his fury, and let the man go without a word about the 
 carriage. But when she was alone, the original defiance re- 
 turned, and, according to the old formula, emphasised with a 
 
420 Never Forgotten. 
 
 little fierce stamp; "if she was to die for it," she would not 
 yield. 
 
 It was now past six o'clock. Fermor was still raging in his 
 study. He heard voices in the hall, and burst out . " What is 
 this? What is this noise?" It was another "man" with a 
 message from Madame Gay's. The grand dress would be home 
 at eight, punctually -, it might be depended on. There were 
 some alterations j but a dozen hands were working on it simul- 
 taneously, like slaters on a roof. Fermor retreated into his 
 study, trembling, but with a grim idea in his head. 
 
 At Lady Laura's house the moment was drawing on. By 
 incredible exertion everything had been got ready, and the 
 "men " happily out of the house. The last touches had been 
 given, and we know by whom. Indeed, the first and middle, as 
 well as the last touches, had all come from the same hand. 
 Tired, fagged, but dressed in her finery (the first " down," too, 
 for Laura junior and Blanche were always late), she was in the 
 field, walking round her rooms, now clear, clean, fresh, and 
 lighted. Here, in the drawing-room, was that pretty stage at 
 one end, and the flowers, and the lights j and here, below, was 
 the supper set out, under the same superintendence, with a 
 small corps of select and steady waiters, who were known to be 
 equal to more work, at the same tariff, than their fellows. The 
 women were waiting to take the cloaks in fact, all was ready. 
 She went up again after this final survey, and stood at the fire 
 alone in her room, trying to warm her weary foot upon the 
 fender. As she looked down on that weary foot, and then 
 looked into the coals, perhaps she saw there, in the little fiery 
 crags and gullies, scraps of that weary panorama she called her 
 life, the course that she had worked out with weariness and buf- 
 feting. Perhaps, too, she was hoping that, just as the little fiery 
 craters and precipices crumbled down upon one another, so her 
 life, too, might end at last 5 or perhaps was wishing for some 
 final repose just as her worn and aching head was then longing 
 for some physical repose upon a pillow. It was noted after how 
 in these days people under her found her softer and less im- 
 perious and fretful. 
 
 The clock on the chimney-piece had struck nine. Every one 
 had been enjoined to be there early, on account of the dramatic 
 part. The company were now about due. Hark to the rolling 
 of the carriages. Whatever she had been thinking of, whether 
 sad or hopeful, she now withdrew the weary foot from the 
 fender, and "recovered" herself. Who would come first ? for 
 
News for Lady Laura. 421 
 
 there was the thunder of wheels at the gate, and the quick 
 plunge of horses suddenly checked 5 and here was the smile of 
 reception snatched hurriedly, as it were, from her pocket, and 
 fitted on. Behind it was, perhaps, a real smile, for she was 
 thinking of Blanche's or Laura junior's lovers. 
 
 As she took her post at the door (the arrived were undraping 
 below, and receiving a scrap of visiting card as a token), the 
 select waiter came up with a note on a salver. An apology, of 
 course, which was welcome ; for she always left a margin for 
 such things, and room was sadly wanted. She thought she knew 
 the hand. It was from Sir John Westende. 
 
 " I never asked him," she said, wondering. Then she read it 
 with a strange stare, that mystified the waiter, who was standing 
 by, salver in hand : 
 
 " DEAR LADY LAURA, My duty to my ward, Lord Spendle- 
 sham, has compelled me to take a course I much regret. For 
 many reasons I could not approve of the alliance he was about 
 making, but in a conversation which I had with him to-day, I 
 at last prevailed on him to take the view which is best for his 
 own interest. The thing, as you will admit, is wholly out of 
 the question. He is in full possession of all details quite adopts 
 the view that I take, and is now down at my house in the 
 country. But, with a generosity which does him honour, he has 
 proposed to let you take the business of breaking the affair off on 
 yourself. And if you think fit to adopt this course, you will 
 write to him to-night a letter to that effect. It is a very painful 
 and unfortunate business altogether, but you will see, with your 
 usual good sense, that it was quite impossible it could go on. 
 
 " J am, dear Lady Laura, 
 " Yours truly, 
 
 " JOHN WESTENDE." 
 
 Did she utter a sound beyond a sigh, or did the " steady " 
 waiter see pass across her face more than a short spasm ? He 
 was now chanting " Mr. and Mrs. Henry Wandesforde ! Miss 
 Wandesforde." And those guests were defiling up the stairs, 
 Mr. Wandesforde pulling hard at his gloves. Mrs. Wandes- 
 forde's wrists chinked with the sound of rattling bracelets as she 
 received the hostess's warm welcome. Mr. Wandesforde's 
 figure, in a sort of annular eclipse, and partially in shadow from 
 clouds of tulle in front, bowed from a distance. He did not 
 
4ia Never Forgotten. 
 
 suspect what ghastliness was behind the smile that greeted 
 them. Then the stream set in, and began to ascend steadily. 
 
 Now came Laura junior rustling down (Blanche was above, 
 in the Swiss peasant's dress). The mother went through all the 
 routine duties earnestly and with activity. She was in motion 
 always in the motion of speech when not in that of figure. 
 She went through all the features of the part without omitting 
 a single thing. She had a word for all. She carried on the 
 thing " behind the scenes." She flew up to her daughter poor 
 Blanche, in the Swiss peasant's dress and encouraged her 
 kindly, and with sympathy, to do her part well. Those words 
 fell strangely on Blanche's ear. 
 
 " Has he come, mamma?" she asked, settling the "bands'* 
 of the peasant dress. 
 
 " By-and-by, dear,' said mamma, in a hollow voice. " I 
 am afraid he will not be here till late he has written to say 
 so. But that makes no matter, you know. You are looking 
 charming, dear, in that dress." 
 
 And Blanche, a good girl, perhaps, after seeing a patch of 
 warm sunlight >a sunlight something like affection on that 
 worn, broken landscape, put up her lips and kissed her. Talk 
 of the Greek play-writers and their terrible element of fate and 
 necessity, here was as fine a bit of tragedy as they could have 
 thought of. 
 
 The show began, and the show went on. She never relaxed. 
 Mr. Romaine had come to the front, anxious to consult her 
 about Mrs. Fermor. She had not come. " We could not begin 
 without her, you know,*' he said. 
 
 " Oh, we can send for her, to be sure/' said Lady Laura, with 
 alacrity. 
 
 " And Spendlesham," said Romaine, "what is he about ? No 
 one seems to be in time." 
 
 "Later all later," said Lady Laura, with a smile. "There 
 is no hurry, you see." 
 
 "Well, then, we may begin," said Mr. Romaine, "and I 
 myself will go for the Ferraors." 
 
 John Hanbury was there beside him, and almost heard his 
 speech. Romaine gave him a bitter look of impatience. He 
 was caring very little for the show of that night. He was 
 thinking of some other place. 
 
 It began with the Parting of Hector and Andromache, the 
 Trojan hero, in fine foil armour, depicted by young Wainwright : 
 the tearful wife by the lovely Cecilia Towler, Lady Towler's 
 
News for Lady Laura. 423 
 
 eldest. There was appropriate music, suggestive of Troy and 
 the hostile Greeks; and the "Parting," lasting about a minute, 
 the tableau was over. Lady Laura was seen applauding. They 
 all thought how she was enjoying it. Mr. Ilomaine, out on 
 the landing, and biting his nails, was restless and impatient. 
 Finally, he "plunged" down stairs angrily and left the house. 
 John Hanbury, who had been watching his motions quietly, very 
 soon after glided down stairs, and also left the house. 
 
 But in Fermor's house, with Fermor sitting in his study as in 
 a den watching jealously for something, the same state of things 
 continued on that dismal evening. Some one else was watching 
 as feverishly up-stairs. 
 
 "So he has told her," he- thought, pacing up and down, "and 
 she dares to taunt me. I shall break her down yet." He 
 stopped, for he heard a sound of feet and shuffling in the hall. 
 It was the sound he was looking for. A man had come with a 
 great black box, a huge casket, containing the treasure. 
 
 The dozen hands simultaneously busy on the dress had it 
 finished to the moment some one walking up and down, and 
 urging them on as an overseer does the galley-slaves at the oar. 
 It was sent home to the minute, for Madame Gay was nice about 
 her reputation. Fermor came out of the den. This night he 
 was sadly excited so excited as to do what at another time he 
 would have thought un gentlemanly. 
 
 " Bring that in here," he said. 
 
 Mrs. Fermor's own maid was tripping down to welcome the 
 treasure, to take it out into her own arms. There was great 
 curiosity in the house as to how "missus" would look in the 
 "playacting" dress. 
 
 "Bring that inhere!" repeated Fermor, fiercely 5 " box and 
 all. Do you hear me ? Must I tell you everything in this house 
 twice over? " 
 
 It was brought in without a word. The lady's maid flew up- 
 stairs to her mistress with the news. 
 
 " JVbzf," thought Fermor, locking the door, and getting his 
 hat, "we shall see." Madame Gay's great black box lay there 
 imprisoned an unaccustomed atmosphere. To the old sane 
 Fermor of years back it would have seemed, perhaps, a pitiful, 
 little, unworthy, and perhaps ungentlemanly trick. 
 
 As he went out, a man came up the steps with a note. It 
 was Miss Manuel's note. He knew the handwriting at once, 
 and hurried to the light in a flurry; he read it under a street 
 lamp read it in a wild tumult of agitation. 
 
424 Never Forgotten. 
 
 Miss Manuel had written : 
 
 " I cannot delay thanking you for a kindness, the news of 
 which has just reached me. I mean the way in which you took 
 my part yesterday. Such behaviour is like heaping coals of fire 
 on my head. I do not deserve it indeed no for if you knew 
 what I dare not tell you, but which is yet a vile hypocrisy not to 
 tell you, you would, I know, despise vie. Some of these days, 
 perhaps, you shall know. And yet I shall venture to ask a favour 
 when I see you again one that concerns yourself and your 
 interests." 
 
 His head seemed to swim with wild triumph as he read. " It 
 is true, then," he thought. " She owns it ! It is what I have 
 long suspected. She loves me ! She has been struggling with 
 it. An ! I am the old Fermor still ! " 
 
 The quietness of home was ungrateful to him its fierce re- 
 bellion it was misery and pain to think of. Here was hope, 
 brightness, and a sort of ghost of the old pride and elation. 
 
 " She loves me," he thought, walking fast. " She esteems and 
 values me. With her I can feel hope, and joy, and love, and 
 happiness. She cannot suppress what she feels." Suddenly a 
 wild impulse seized him. He had thought of answering the 
 letter at once, in a sort of rapturous tone j but it would be better 
 to go to her straight himself. In a moment he was in a Hansom 
 cab, galloping towards Alfred-place. The driver did not know 
 that the wild heart of his fare was travelling faster than the good 
 horse in the shafcs. 
 
 Mrs. Fermor, told by her maid of this last blow, sat on her 
 chair before her glass in her bedroom. " You may go down, 
 Wallace," she said. " Or stay, bring me up my papers and pens." 
 She was almost stupefied at this last stroke of poor impotent 
 spite, but more mortified at the whole house being made parties 
 to the quarrel. " To disgrace me in this way ! " she said, in a 
 frantic burst of tears. " But I will baffle him yet. Now he 
 shall find that I can meet him. God help me ! But he is driving 
 me to this" And she wrote a hasty note to Mr. Romaine : 
 
 " Come to me quickly. I want to see you and consult you. 
 
 "M. IV 
 
M, 
 
 Mr. Romaine s Proposals. 42 5 
 
 CHAPTER THE SEVENTY-FIFTH. 
 
 MR. ROMAINE'S PROPOSALS. 
 
 F. ! even in these initials there was an unlawful confidence. 
 As she was folding the note, her " own maid " appeared at 
 the door, and said that Mr. Romaine was below in the drawing- 
 room. Mr. Romai ne's cab was waiting at the door. He had come 
 post from Lady Laura's. 
 
 Her hair was down on her shoulders. She hastily " turned it 
 up " in some fashion in anyway. She looked beautiful, brilliant 
 with the sense of suffering outrage, and suppressed grief and 
 anger. For the moment it seemed to her poor little soul ! 
 that Providence had sent her this man to be her protector and 
 friend. " Heaven has raised me up this true friend," she thought, 
 with an odd perversion of devotion. " I shall cling to him now." 
 She flew down, and ran to him like a bird fluttering. He started 
 back, she looked so bright and engaging. 
 
 " Oh," she said, " Mr. Romaine, I am so glad you have come 
 to me. I was writing to you, to beg, to implore, that you 
 would " 
 
 "Good gracious!" he said, "what has happened? Tell me 
 everything." 
 
 " You are my friend," she went on, hastily ; "at least, I have 
 begun to think you are 5 and I do not know what to do. I am 
 miserable, wretched, unhappy. I have no one to help me, no 
 one to care for me," and bright tears began to gather in the bright 
 eyes. 
 
 Romaine was looking at the soft helpless creature with pure 
 sympathy and admiration. " Do you tell me," said he, with con- 
 tracting brows, " that he has been at his work again ? It is in- 
 sufferable. I thought I had given him a lesson last night that 
 would have lasted him for years." 
 
 " Oh," said she, bursting out helplessly, " he does not know me. 
 He treats mo cruelly. He does not understand me." 
 
 " Indeed he does not," said Romaine, moodily -, " not he. No 
 teaching will do him good. Never, I see. What do you suppose 
 he was doing last night ? Championing Miss Manuel before a 
 whole club j trying to quarrel with me about her. I had to give 
 him a lesson. Dearest Mrs. Fermor, I do feel for you. I wish 
 to Heaven I could show you how I do feel. What is this busi- 
 ness now ? I can guess. This tyrant will not let you go. J 
 
426 Never Forgotten, 
 
 know it ! What a mean, pitiful, unworthy spite ! Good Hea- 
 vens ! what a shame! what a sin!" he went on. " My heart 
 bleeds for you ! But what shall I do, what would you like me 
 to do?" 
 
 " No, no," she said, hurriedly. " I suppose he does not think 
 or know what he is doing." 
 
 "He does. He does," said Romaine, savagely. "Where is he 
 now ? Ah, I could guess. But look, dearest child, you will not 
 submit to this. Your life will become a slavery worse than they 
 have in Siberia. He will encroach every day more and more. 
 If you yield to him, he will only require more. My dear, dear 
 Mrs. Fermor, I know you, I know your heart, and all that you 
 have suffered. I do indeed. I am a rough, rude, travelling 
 fellow, but I feel. I shall not let this go on. I can't see a sweet, 
 charming, lovable creature trampled into ruin. We must save 
 you at every risk. * 
 
 " Save me ?" she said, wondering. ' How ? When ? Do you 
 wish me to go to that place ? He has my dress locked up in his 
 room." 
 
 "That place?" he said, impatiently, "I have forgotten it. 
 I am not thinking of that. What does that concern us ? I am 
 thinking of your life and happiness. How are you to stay with 
 this man, who will only live to persecute and harass you ? Listen 
 to me. We are alone here. Now is the opportunity. Long, 
 long, I have known you esteemed, admired, loved you yes, 
 loved you and never so much as to-night. My heart is bleed- 
 ing for you. Come, let us leave this house this house, this 
 country, this mean, miserable, degraded man, whom J all but 
 flogged last night." 
 
 She started back from him with a cry as far back as the cur- 
 tains, which she caught at and clung to. " What dreadful 
 language is this ?'' she said, frightened. " What do you mean ?" 
 
 " I do mean it," he said, advancing to her. " I do mean 
 that I have long seen and loved you yes, loved you. And I tell 
 you it is no crime, or sin, as the cold world would make it. You 
 are not to be sacrificed to a wretch a monster like that. Heaven 
 has sent me to save you ! " 
 
 Mrs. Fermor shrank away from him over to the wall. " Oh, 
 go away," she said, in horror. "Oh, God help me ! I am betrayed 
 by every one." 
 
 "Dearest Mrs. Fermor, not by me" he said, coming still 
 nearer. " I am serious. I am in earnest. I have never cared 
 really for any woman yet. But in you, for the first time, I 
 
Mr. Romaine $ Proposals. 427 
 
 have seen what I can love and adore. The sufferings you have 
 borne " 
 
 "Go away, do go away," said Mrs. Fermor, shrinking still, 
 and clinging to the curtains. " I did not think you would be 
 so cruel, or so wicked ! Oh, this indeed opens my eyes ! I am 
 betrayed by every one. Oh, Heaven help me ! I have brought 
 this on myself! Oh ! Oh ! " And she fell upon the sofa in despair 
 and grief. 
 
 Romaine looked at her. Miss Manuel's wish was bearing 
 fruit. He had advanced towards her, when a heavy step was 
 heard beside him, and a heavier grasp was laid upon his arm, and 
 a steady, solemn voice rang in his ear 
 
 " Stop ! this is manly ! Go away ! Leave this house.' 1 
 
 " You here !" said he, in a fury of impatience. "Always in 
 the way ! What cursed business makes you come intruding ? " 
 
 " All ! Mr. Hanbury," said she, rushing to him. " Help 
 me ! help me ! All the world is turning against me." 
 
 " You may rely upon me, at least," said Hanbury, sadly, " for 
 such poor help as I can give. First, do you wish this man to 
 remain ?" 
 
 " No, no, no ! a thousand times no !'' she said. " But I have 
 brought it on myself. I have been foolish and wicked. I have 
 indeed. And I don't know where to turn to " 
 
 "No, no," said Hanbury, "you are only too confiding and 
 unsuspicious j but there are plenty of wicked men abroad ready 
 to take advantage of it for their own vile ends." 
 
 " How ?" said Romaine, furiously, and advancing on him. 
 
 "This is a drawing-room, recollect," said Hanbury, with con- 
 tempt. " J do not leave unless Mrs, Fermor requires me. Do 
 you ? " he said, turning to her. 
 
 "No, no," she answered him, hastily. 
 
 "Do you wish him to go ?" he asked, pointing with his finger 
 to Romaine. 
 
 " Oh yes," she said, as eagerly. 
 
 "Now," said Hanbury, "you are a gentleman, \ believe, and 
 have experience in the world, and I am .sure will understand a 
 hint. You will not intrude in a lady's house ?" 
 
 With a stamp and a " Very well !" the other turned away. 
 
 In a few moments Hanbury was alone with Mrs. Fermor. 
 " Oh, I have brought this all upon myself. It is wy own 
 doing." 
 
 " Where is Fermor ? " said Hanbury. ' Shall I bring 
 him " 
 
4^& Never Forgotten. 
 
 " But will he save me, or protect me ? " she said, wringing hei 
 hands $ " all all are the same." 
 
 "You must see him/' said Hanbury, "and trust to him 
 alone. Ah ! it was a pity you cast off Miss Manuel. Hers 
 was a true heart, that loved you, that yearned after you. But 
 you would not trust her." 
 
 "She!" said Mrs. Fermor, her face full of doubt. "Why, 
 she is at the bottom of all. She has stolen my husband from 
 me !" 
 
 Hanbury almost laughed. " Miss Manuel ! How little you 
 know her ! Can you trust me ? Then I solemnly declare to 
 you some one has been leading you astray for their own views. 
 Ah ! It is a pity not to have an instinct for true friendship. 
 Where shall I find Fermor ? " 
 
 " I don't know, I don't know," she said, distractedly. 
 
 Hanbury left her. Some astounding instinct whispered to 
 him, " Alfred-place." At the best, he thought of Miss Manuel 
 as being the one who should come and give confidence to the 
 poor deserted girl. 
 
 CHAPTER THE SEVENTY-SIXTH. 
 
 NEMESIS. 
 
 Tj^ERMOR had now got to Alfred-place. While there was a 
 block of carriages and cabs at his mother's house, while 
 the people in the street were stopping to see the shadows cast 
 upon the canvas of the illuminated balcony, and the little pro- 
 cession of ladies flitting from their carriages up the steps into 
 what seemed an open and refulgent furnace door, he was hur- 
 riedly getting out of his " Hansom," and entering Miss 
 Manuel's. Could she see him for a moment? he sent up word. 
 She was above all conventionality, and saw him. 
 
 He entered in a wild tumult, his eyes flashing. There was 
 the old trouble on her face in permanence $ but on this night he 
 thought her dazzling and splendid. 
 
 " I have come," he said, closing the door. 
 
 "What," said she, "you not at the festival to-night ?" 
 
 " I don't care for such things," he went on, " you know I 
 don't. I got your note. That was festival enough for me." 
 
Ncmesit. 429 
 
 " And your wife that poor gentle thing, who somehow hates 
 me so she is there, I know, glittering like a star. Who can 
 have filled her little soul with such cruel prejudices ? I would 
 give the world to be loved by her, and that she would let me 
 love her $ but she seems to fly from to shrink from me." 
 
 At the first part of this speech Fermor's brow was contracted, 
 but at the second some complacency came upon his face. He 
 could give a hint of the reason of this repulsion, but he made 
 no answer. 
 
 " It was good of you to come," she went on. " I wanted 
 to thank you. I heard of your generous conduct. Any one 
 else would have kept back. I did not expect it from any one, 
 and not from you." 
 
 " What," said he, " do you not know me yet ?" 
 
 " I begin to do so," she said, " but, alas ! you have not begun 
 to know me. It is late for one's eyes to be opening, yet not 
 too late, I hope. Oh, I could tell you such a sad history of 
 humiliation, which you have a right to know. But you will 
 be generous, and spare me. I thought I was doing a holy thing 
 carrying out what would have been the dear wish of another j 
 but now, not too late, I have discovered that I was in a false, 
 wicked track. Oh, I have suffered," continued Miss Manuel, 
 " and paid a heavy penalty for my folly a heavv, heavy penalty 
 indeed." 
 
 Fermor, who followed but indistinctly, for he was only 
 thinking of the general purport of this confession, said, eagerly, 
 " Ah, it is easy for me to forgive. So you ask me V 
 
 "Yes," she said, "I do. And I have something else to ask, 
 which you will not refuse. I am glad you have come to me to- 
 night. You would save me, I know, dreary hours of remorse 
 what would be a life of miserable regret. You do not know 
 what I have suffered during these few days. I have seen misery, 
 wickedness, guilt, ruin, all coming on fast, and which I know 
 has been my own doing, but which I have not power to stop. 
 Oh, Fermor, think what it must be for me to look on while the 
 innocent are hurrying to destruction to think that this is my 
 own doing. I have not slept j I have not lived. I have spent 
 these days rushing through this great city, crying for help to 
 this person and that, and now find that you are my last 
 chance." 
 
 ' ' What can I do ? ' said Fermor, hurriedly ; "say it. Can I 
 refuse anything that you ask?" 
 
 "Then, save her. That soft, lovable, tender thing, that I - 
 
430 Never Forgotten. 
 
 Oh, I can't think of it. I cannot speak to her. Every step I 
 take towards her only fills her with suspicion. It is you who 
 must act. Take her away ! Fly this miserable place ! Begone 
 yourself! You don't know the dangers. Why, even at this 
 moment while we talk " 
 
 A light came into Fermor's eyes. " Ah, you don't know the . 
 whole of that story," he said. " Gentle and tender ! Why, I 
 have left a hell behind me at home. I have made the great 
 mistake that so many make, and have found it out too late. 
 Fly with her? Never ! You talk of suffering 5 you don't know 
 what / have suffered. I have been vilely deceived deceived in 
 every way. On their heads be the consequence of their own 
 imposture ! But I hope to have done with them from this 
 night." 
 
 " How ?*' said Miss Manuel, with wondering eyes. 
 
 He went on, with a voice almost breathless from agitation : 
 " Don't think that I have not been able to translate your words, 
 and your letter 5 that I have not seen enough of men and 
 women, and the world, not to know what is behind, and what is 
 unknown even to yourself. I know what is struggling in your 
 mind, what is the meaning of those griefs and this remorse, as 
 you think it. I shall not go back to that Inferno ! Never !" 
 
 "What ?" said Miss Manuel, starting up. 
 
 "Ah! you begin to understand now," said he, still more 
 agitated 5 "I think we both begin to see the light at last. 
 Brighter days shall come for both of us. You talk of flying. 
 Yes, let us fly 5 let us leave this vile place, this vile country. I 
 have seen your struggles, your noble struggles, and shall help 
 you by this confession. Come $ what do you say ? Speak ! 
 quick!" 
 
 He waited, almost panting, for an answer. Miss Manuel had 
 listened, with a strange wonder at first, with eyes distending 
 gradually, and then herself rising slowly from the chair, until 
 she was standing her full height, looking down on him. Not 
 long had he to wait. It was already written on her curling 
 lips. He had almost a presentiment of its tone. 
 
 "You say this to me!" she said at last, with a scorn that 
 seemed to blight and blast him. "And this is your confession ?'' 
 
 He passed his hand over his eyes, a little staggered, and drew 
 back. "You understand me," he faltered. "We understand 
 each other?" 
 
 "/understand you,'' she said. "Now I do. God forgive my 
 blindness for not understanding you before ! God forgive my 
 
Nemesis. 43 1 
 
 weakness and foolish repentance! God forgive me for taking 
 you to be a weak, foolish, empty coxcomb, and not the mean 
 cold-souled heartless black-hearted man that I now find 
 you ! ' ' 
 
 The words were like a shower of blows, and he seemed to 
 totter back under them, and with his hand vainly tried to clear 
 his eyes. The utter surprise had almost taken away his wits. 
 
 " Unworthy of pity ! " she went on 5 " unworthy of all grace! 
 Now, indeed, the light has come ! Now I see with what cold 
 calculation you took away the life of the darling we lived for ! 
 And yet she prayed for you thought of you in her last breath. 
 Now you are destroying another poor child, whose only sin has 
 been trusting too fondly to you. And you dare," she went on, 
 with something like fury, " to come to me with your vile rap- 
 tures, and your odious devotion. We understand each other ! 
 I want no such communion, indeed. Go away ! Go out into 
 the street anywhere! Go back to your Inferno, as you call it! 
 Leave me quickly ! I can't breath while you are here. Go !" 
 
 She kept her arm steadily pointed to the door. To the 
 wretched Fermor, beaten, humiliated, grovelling, she seemed to 
 be standing over the couch of the lost Violet, like an Avenger. 
 With his hand still before his eyes he shrank to the door. And 
 as he crept away out to the street, so degraded that he loathed 
 his own personal consciousness, curiously the idea that was haunt- 
 ing him, and the gnawing reproach that rung in his ears like a 
 knell, was that that foolish, blundering, awkward Hanbury, 
 superior in this, had given him warning. This was, indeed, the 
 last stroke of his humiliation. 
 
 He did not know at the moment, as he stood on the steps, 
 looking up and down to both ends of the street, how near that 
 unselfish Hanbury was to him. Hanbury had hurried from Mrs. 
 Fermor eagerly, and now at the upper end of that quiet 
 thoroughfare, saw some one come out of Miss Manuel's house. 
 There was a lamp at the door, and under this lamp he saw 
 Fermor's white face as it looked wildly up and down. He did 
 not care to meet him then, and he revolted at the infatuation 
 which took him there ; so he stopped, and then he saw Fermor 
 turn vacantly, and take the direction up the end which led away 
 from Town. He noted his uncertain, tottering walk, and his 
 figure get gradually lost in the darkness. Hanbury was about 
 crossing the street, when he saw Miss Manuel's door open sud- 
 denly, and another figure burst out, and hurry up the street in 
 the direction Fermor had taken. He knew the coal-black eyes 
 
43 a Never Forgotten. 
 
 and the dark beard of Miss Manuel's brother, and the same lamp 
 which had shown him Fermor's blank pale face and yellow 
 moustache, showed him the wild, excited features and fierce eyes 
 of Louis Manuel. 
 
 John Hanbury was slow of thought ; conclusions did not 
 ordinarily flash upon him as they did upon other men. Manuel's 
 figure has passed into the distant darkness, and Hanbury had his 
 hand upon the door-bell before the idea had occurred to him 
 to question why Louis Manuel should rush out so excitedly 
 after Fermor. Then something like an instinct of the scene 
 above described, as it had really occurred, came upon him, and 
 with something like terror he went down the steps again, and 
 followed hastily. 
 
 The miserable Fermor, shrinking from himself as if he were 
 spotted over with some disease, kept wandering on through that 
 dark night. He scarcely knew where he was going. He shrank 
 from taking a direction which could lead in any way towards 
 his home. From Alfred-place was not far to that broad dis- 
 trict where were the spreading clayey fields, not yet built upon, 
 where in a year or so the monster building for the Exhibition 
 was to rise, and a new town of plaster mansions. Fashion, on 
 this night, had not quite made up her mind, nor gathered up her 
 skirts, for a race in this direction. The clayey fields were only 
 cut up here and there by a stray row of houses, and lit by a stray 
 lamp j and into this lonely district Fermor found himself sud- 
 denly plunged. The openness and loneliness gave him relief. 
 He was recovering a little from the awful blow the blow to 
 his pride. To what had been the purpose of his later life ? A 
 stroke to his overpowering vanity, and to that vanity which was 
 so mixed with selfishness as to be more selfishness than vanity, 
 was to him like a physical stroke or dislocation. A sense of dull 
 pain was in his head, and the cool of the fields seemed to relieve 
 his moral sufferings. Luckless, miserable, degraded Fermor 
 almost deserved pity. 
 
 In a dull sort of fashion, he began to " see it all," as it is 
 called : the whole course of later events, with the secret of Miss 
 Manuel's calculating plans, which his own blind infatuation had 
 prevented him from comprehending. Beyond that, too, his 
 mind travelled back, and that strange expression of hers, "taken 
 away the life of Violet," brought up the old Eastport times 
 again. The soft gentleness, the quiet suffering, the grateful 
 tender worship these were things that some one seemed to 
 whisper to him for the first time. Rough hands were levelling 
 
An Old Soldiers End. 413 
 
 the rude stone wall of stolid vanity as iron as that stone wall 
 against which he had dashed on the Eastport race-day, now so 
 long ago and he was seeing things with wonder he had never 
 seen before. 
 
 A dull crash about his head physical and really like that 
 crash at the Eastport wall a flash of stars a dull thunder in 
 the ears a fierce cry like a threat, mixed up with a sound like 
 " This from Violet! This from Violet!" and Fermor's humilia- 
 tion and degradation, his dreams of Eastport and of the past, 
 were battered into insensibility. He was on the ground, with 
 his back on the clayey soil, the white face turned to the sky, 
 and a figure over him, fearfully beating and mashing $ pounding 
 that white face with something held in its hands. Some half- 
 dozen terrible strokes in all. And there would have been but one 
 more to finish the work, but for a strong man who came rushing 
 and shouting across the field, and who caught the wild, frantic 
 figure by the throat, and, after a struggle, flung him to a distance. 
 
 Miserable Fermor was breathing still. 
 
 CHAPTER THE SEVENTY-SEVENTH. 
 
 AN OLD SOLDIER'S END. 
 
 A T Lady Laura Fermor's the entertainment went forward. 
 The carriages came and went. From the street, the 
 shadows of Captain Vansittart and Miss Egerton of Rushley 
 were seen outlined on the illuminated balcony, as if " projected" 
 from a magic lantern. Sounds of muffled music came from 
 within 5 of the stirring horn and tinkling harp. For the 
 tableaux were over now, and the dancing had set in. 
 
 There had been unavoidable omissions in the little show. Mr. 
 Romaine had been seen to go, but had never returned. Hi* 
 dress, a rich one, was lying there. Mrs. Fermor had not come 
 at all. Here was the most effective scene spoiled. The rest 
 were, in truth, a little halting. In short, it came upon the 
 actors and audience with a surprise that there should have been 
 so small a result, after all the extraordinary cost, and trouble, 
 and expense. It was a relief when " the decks were cleared,* ' 
 and Revel's band began to wind out music, and the company to 
 float on the soft billows of a divine Strauss valse. 
 
434 Never Forgotten, 
 
 Lady Laura, at the door, working the fan in her pale fingers, 
 still kept to her duty. At times, during the night, Blanche had 
 come to her privately, in some little trouble about the absent 
 Spendlesham. The mother reassured her. " He has missed a 
 train. He has sent. He will be here in the morning to apolo- 
 gise. Go and dance now, dear, and enjoy yourself." The well- 
 trained Blanche always reflected her mother's tone of mind, and 
 saw that there was not a cloud of doubt in the air. With a 
 smile she tripped away, and was presently flying round, sup- 
 ported by Captain Singleman's strong arm, to the celestial air 
 of the " Wieu mem sinn " valse. The same strain had drawn 
 many more from their seats, and absorbed them into the melee. 
 
 Lady Laura looked rather tired. She gave herself no rest. 
 She found partners for the destitute. This night she did not 
 care to receive any scandalous stories from some of her favourite 
 worldly old men. It was a long and weary night. A young 
 destitute girl, sadly unprepossessing for whom she had provided 
 said to her gratefully, "Dear Lady Laura, you should sit 
 down. You aro tiring yourself." But she did not sit down. 
 She worked on. and looked for plenty of physical action. How 
 many spectres had she dancing before her eyes that night, besides 
 her company ? Almost everything there furnished her one : 
 Blanche's silken slip, the temporary stage, and Revel's fine 
 Strauss music. There was besides, up-stairs, and outside, 
 Blanche's trousseau, newly come home from that terrible Ma- 
 dame Adelaide ; and above all, indistinct, and in the distance, 
 but not less terrible, the rude and furious job-master. No 
 wonder that old heart was chilled chilled even to death. 
 
 By half-past two they were going. There was the departing 
 chorus of the "delightful evening," and the "so pleasant." 
 The ghosts of the Strauss melodies still floated in the air. The 
 looms were cleared with a rush, as it were, just as they had filled 
 with a rush. The waxed floor shone and glittered under the 
 lights here and there was a flower, a bit of swansdown, a bit 
 of lace waifs or strays of the wreck. Below, they were long 
 getting on their wraps. And Lady Laura, leaning on the 
 chimney-piece, heard the hoarse cries in the street, and the hum 
 of voices in the hall, and the happy salutations of lingering men. 
 
 " It was a delightful party," said Laura junior, in great spirits. 
 "They were all pleased." 
 
 " Yes, dear," said Lady Laura, in the new soft tone which 
 mystified her daughters. " I am so glad you enjoyed yourself. 
 Go up and go to bed as quickly as you can. You look tired, and 
 
An Old Soldiers End. 435 
 
 we have to be out again to-morrow night." Poor working soul, 
 she could not forget duty ! 
 
 The two girls went together, meaning to have a short com- 
 paring of notes on the triumphs and joys of the night. Lady 
 Laura stayed behind, her foot on the fender, with the job-master 
 and Madame Adelaide and the other spectres for company. 
 
 Presently she went up to her room. During that latter part of 
 the night, staying so much at the doors, she had put on an old 
 scarlet opera cloak, and wrapped it about her neck. Not that 
 she cared, or found much comfort in it, but she did not forget 
 that there was to be duty on the next night. 
 
 The girls, rapturously photographing the joys of the night, 
 heard Lady Laura call softly to Blanche, who came in. Lady 
 Laura, still in the opera cloak, shut the door, and then said, 
 " Blanche, my dear, I want to tell you something can you bear 
 a disappointment ?" And then, making as light of it as she 
 could, told all about Lord Spendlesham. Blanche burst into pas- 
 sionate tears. Her mother consoled her, and even with effect. 
 
 " I am not sorry," she said. " He was a foolish creature, and 
 you would have had great trouble with him. He was a mere 
 boy. There were great obstacles from the beginning, in fact. 
 I never reckoned on it regularly. Now go to bed, dear, and 
 put it out of your head. I shall put it all out of my head. To- 
 morrow I shall see him and manage him, dear. Some wicked 
 people have got round him j or, if the worst comes to the worst, 
 we shall think of something else, and, I suppose," she added, 
 with an odd smile, " shall begin it all again in the morning !" 
 
 The brilliancy of the night was already before Blanche's eyes, 
 and made her receive the artificial encouragement. She had 
 never fancied young Spendlesham, and there had been a hand- 
 some baronet that night, single, and with the other virtues. She 
 had more faith in that dismal anthem of her mother's, " Begin 
 it all again in the morning !" She was struck, too, by the un- 
 wonted softness of that consolation, and coming back, when half 
 way from the door, kissed her mother an unfrequent ceremony, 
 for which there was rarely time. When she was gone out, her 
 mother dropped wearily into a chair before her dressing-glass, 
 and then the old favourite spectres headed by furious Madame 
 Adelaide all poured in afresh. 
 
 Blanche went in to her sister to find sisterly sympathy. She 
 told her all her mortifications and sorrows, and found some 
 comfort. The single and handsome baronet hovered in the 
 distance, as a sort of transparency. For more than an hour they 
 
Never Forgotten* 
 
 talked of it, and of a hundred other things, taking off their 
 finery as they went along. Laura junior, full of her hopes and 
 prospects, told her story. At last they heard four strike, and 
 with a start they thought of Duty for the next night, and Laura 
 junior laid her head upon the pillow. 
 
 " Mamma has some plan, I know," said Blanche, "for she 
 said she would begin it all again to-morrow. She will manage 
 Spendlesham, I dare say. I am sure she has some clever thing 
 in her head. I wonder who it is ? I shall just run in and see. 
 Or is she in bed ? ' ' 
 
 She went in softly. "Why, mamma " she said, for 
 
 Lady Laura was still sitting before the glass, with the flowers on 
 her head, and the red opera cloak still about her. She was 
 sitting, as she had sat many times before, waiting for her maid to 
 come and begin to do her hair, when going out to the old call 
 of Duty. "Why, mamma," said Blanche and, running up, 
 gave a cry rather a shriek. 
 
 At least she was at her post, and in her old uniform. After 
 all, it is at his post, and in the field, that the veteran should most 
 of all choose to meet his death. That notion of " beginning it 
 all again to-morrow," had sent a chill to the nerves and muscles 
 of the heart. The old spirit was there, and she would have been 
 at the front again on the morrow, " beginning all " once more ; 
 but the old strength had at last given way. She was not built 
 of iron. " Begin again to-morrow !" She had often done that, 
 under circumstances as hopeless ; but now it seemed to be shouted 
 at her by the hoarse voices of the spectres. And so the heart 
 of the poor struggling gallant soldier cracked, and in her flowers, 
 and in her cloak, and before her dressing-glass, she slept off into 
 quite another and more awful world, where she was " to begin 
 again in the morning," and where there were happily no balls 
 nor dresses, no struggle, no flowers, no fans $ no battling with 
 bills, nor infuriated milliners, nor job-masters j but where it ig to 
 be hoped she found at least rest, 
 
L Envoi. 437 
 
 L'ENVOI. 
 
 draw on to the end. Now that some years are between 
 that night and this time, we see some of the figures in 
 this story in conditions such as the intelligent reader of stories 
 can almost fancy for himself. About the next day or so after 
 that unhappy party of Lady Laura's, we can see the worn and 
 spent old diplomatist, Sir Hopkins, who for weeks was flitting 
 and fluttering about offices and ante-rooms, totter down eagerly 
 to a cab. " Foreign-Office," he calls out, " and as quick as you 
 can." That morning he has heard of the death of the governor 
 of the Lee Boo Island. " It is very hard," he thinks to him- 
 self. " They treat me any way ! They forget my old services. 
 It is shameful ! And now to put me off with that wretched 
 place! I suppose I must take it." And, grumbling and in- 
 dignant, he sent in his card to Harding Hanaper. " I shall try 
 for something else," said Sir Hopkins, "before I consent to 
 that." Poor soul ! his heart was in office office of some shape, 
 and sort Foreign Office "candle snuffing, even," if there was 
 such employment. 
 
 Harding Hanaper was very busy. A mail was going out that 
 night. " Good God, how that man plagues us !" (Yet it was 
 more than a month since Sir Hopkins had seen him.) " I can't 
 see him ! I won't see him ! What does he want ? Tell him 
 to put it in writing." But Sir Hopkins was not to be put off 
 like the common petitioners. His worn face found its way in. 
 "The Lee Boo Island," he said, panting aloud, "is vacant. 
 They have kept me so long, and altogether treated me so badly, 
 so I suppose, Hanaper, I must be content with that faute de 
 mieux, as old Pichegru used to say." 
 
 "Where's Ridley's last paper?" said Harding Hanaper, with 
 his face bent over documents, as if he was going to cool it in 
 copious cold water. " Send down for it. Have a copy made 
 of this quick. Oh ! well, what is it now, Pocock ? " 
 
 " You know, of course you do, the Lee Boo Island is vacant*. 
 Baines died there last April." 
 
 " Ah, yes, to be sure. You were asking for it I remember 
 I dare say. But you should think about it a man of your 
 time of life, you know climate, and all that " 
 
 "Oh, I have considered that," said Sir Hopkins. " So, if 
 there is nothing else going, I am sure, after all my long services, 
 and really att^r having arranged those Waipiti troubles "^ 
 
438 Never Forgotten. 
 
 "Ah, exactly," said Mr. Hanaper, wearily 3 "that's a long 
 time ago. Besides, they broke out again the other day, you 
 know. By the way, about the Lee Boo Island. The chief was 
 down himself here last night, asking about it. What was that, 
 Manning ? Now, Sir Hopkins, I am up to my eyes mail going 
 out, you know Manning will tell you everything." 
 
 Manning said to Sir Hopkins, " Sorry, sir, about the Lee Boo, 
 L/ut the chief said he was keeping it for Trail. In fact, he has 
 given it to him." 
 
 " Given it to him I" shrieked Sir Hopkins. "What is the 
 meaning of this ? It is shameful, disgraceful ! I'll expose the 
 whole system. I'll bring it before Parliament ! What do they 
 mean ? What do you mean ?" 
 
 And with his face contorted and crumpled into lines of piteous 
 agony, he looked from one to the other. 
 
 "Hush, hush!" said Mr. Hanaper $ "recollect the office, Sir 
 Hopkins." 
 
 "I'll bring it before Parliament," said the unhappy diplo- 
 matist. " I'll appeal to the country. This is the way old and 
 faithful servants are treated. It shall be taken up, I can tell 
 you. I'll " 
 
 " Now, Sir Hopkins, we are busy, as you see. We can't have 
 this sort of thing. Please let us go to business.' 
 
 "And Miss Manuel telling me. She promised you know 
 she did." 
 
 Hanaper smiled. 
 
 " If that was your prop, Sir Hopkins, it was a reed, and a 
 broken one. I don't think you are number one there. Better to 
 tell you, for the next time." 
 
 Wretched Sir Hopkins went his way almost staggering all 
 crow's feet, as it were. From that little churchyard at Eastport 
 a skeleton hand seemed to reach him. 
 
 We can see Major Carter, older and more worn and not so 
 crisp with a Mrs. Carter flitting round the watering-places he 
 loved, making acquaintances. Some powerful friends had come 
 forward on that expose, and the words, " Shameful conspiracy," 
 were used pretty frequently. It was found by the Crown offi 
 cials that the capital case was very weak indeed so weak, that 
 it was not advisable to think of a trial. It must be said, too, 
 that the shareholders in the Irrefragable were dissatisfied with 
 the expose. Yet Major Carter, handsomely cleared, and gone 
 abroad, wisely forbore to press his claim on the company $ and, 
 by a sort of mutual compromise, the dead past was allowed to 
 
L' Envoi. 439 
 
 bury its own dead. Faithful, trusting Mrs. Wrigley believed in 
 him all the time, and went abroad with him. And, it must be 
 said, that Major Carter could always appeal to his treatment of 
 the second Mrs. Carter as a sufficient refutation of the " foul 
 slanders " that had been heaped upon him in reference to the 
 first. And there at Homburg, or some such place, he met Mr. 
 Romaine, who, however, " cut" him and cut him insolently. 
 
 Now, too, is Pauline Manuel at rare intervals on English 
 ground : when she comes to see a brother, who is placed in a 
 quiet asylum, where his wildness is soothed and tempered on the 
 gentlest principles. At other seasons, she too hovers about the 
 foreign world, and, wherever she goes, people wonder at her sad 
 handsome face, and think there must be some story connected 
 with her. 
 
 Now, too, at a quiet cathedral town, on the grass and walks of 
 the close, under the friendly skirt of the cathedral itself, live 
 three persons together. The cathedral is not rich, nor has it a 
 numerous ecclesiastical chapter. A railway has not touched it 
 yet : so very few remark the grim old man and his daughter, and 
 the feeble husband, whom they both support. The feeble 
 husband walks as though a false step would shatter his frame like 
 glass or china. The feeble husband's eyes are dim, and grow 
 dimmer each day, and round and about the eyes his face has been 
 crushed and bruised out of shape through an old and terrible 
 accident. A skilful doctor did wonders with that face, raising 
 it, and piecing it, and restoring it (he wrote " a case" on it for 
 some Medical Transactions)} but he could not "raise" or restore 
 the quick intuition and ready appreciation, and so every one in 
 the cathedral town knows that the feeble husband's words come 
 from him more slowly than he walks (as though they run risk, 
 too, of being shattered), and that it takes a long time to follow 
 a question or a remark. 
 
 Of this old and dreadful accident he ought to have died pro- 
 perly, but the skilful doctor saved him. As his eyes grow more 
 dim, so does his intelligence ; keeping pace with the failing of 
 the eyes. It seems long, long ago. Sometimes, no doubt, the 
 dull thickness clears away the murky vapours in his brain clear 
 away j and perhaps he then, for a moment, sees the old soft days 
 down at the watering-place, when he seemed to be young, and 
 airy, and elegant, and happy ; and these bright figures moved to 
 and fro before him. It was another Fermor then, different from 
 the Fermor who came later, and who, in its turn, was different 
 from the old young man, and the bruised, beaten Fermor, whose 
 
440 Never Forgotten. 
 
 Urn eye was, as it were, at the glass of a stereoscope. These 
 were but sudden glimpses but short glimpses too. Then the 
 clouds would come rolling in from side to side. Local doctors* 
 give him but a few years. Then there will be a choral service in 
 the cathedral, with minor canons chanting seraphically, and a 
 tablet on the aisle-walls with the inscription " Charles Fermor,!' 
 with birth, death, and all the rest. But not a word, of course, 
 of the old vanities, and selfishness, and weakness, and the poor 
 old mauled TO eyu, or " le moi." On those Kensington fields 
 it was battered out of all shape. When the men of his regi- 
 ment come to hear of that demise, some of them will say, 
 " Poor Fermor !" They will balance his character, and some 
 good will be discovered. It will be universally agreed " it was 
 ^ill that infernal conceit of his." The military verdict would be 
 about right. That ludicrous vanity was at the bottom of all. 
 It might have been "drawn" when he was a boy, just as his 
 double teeth might have been drawn. But there was no one to 
 think of taking him to the moral dentist's. 
 
 Young Brett, faithful to him to the end, often made trips down 
 to the cathedral town, and walked by Fermor 's side round the 
 close, and spoke to him with an assumed gaiety and cheerfulness 
 P3 "old fellow.'* And with him is seen lonely Hanbury, who 
 flits and hovers about the place. Many mothers said what " a 
 purposeless life he led !" And the dim dull eyes from which 
 the colour of conceit had been long washed out, rested on the 
 honest boy with a greater intelligence, and much comfort. 
 Perhaps it was at such moments that the clouds broke, and the 
 old East port sun came out for a few seconds. The young wife 
 found inexpressible comfort when she saw Brett's brave face near 
 thenic He knew the art of manly comfort, and could impart it. 
 He always went away himself in deep distress, but left a little 
 cheerfulness behind. 
 
 He could take a kind and gentle view of Fermor' s course at 
 least a pitying one as, indeed, perhaps the kind reader, who has 
 listened to this story so far, may perhaps be inclined to do. Poor 
 miserable foolish Fermor ! Even here, looking back on this 
 story, we may think of him gently, with some allowance, and 
 at least draw a moral from his course. 
 
 Sometimes his faithful wife hears him articulate with difficulty 
 the name of Violet. Far away on the coast of Eastport, which 
 is thriving, and gorgeous with plaster palaces and assembly- 
 rooms, and has its bathing machines, and pony carriages, with 
 infant postilious, <u whose social warp and woof gold pieces 
 
V Envoi. 441 
 
 seemed t 3 be woven in which has its two seasons, its express 
 trains from Town for business men to which doctors order 
 patients at Eastport, so flourishing, so magnificent and pam- 
 pered, strange to say, this little romance has been kept alive. It 
 has not been choked out by the briars. The story is as well 
 known as that of Tolla at Rome. The tradition is loved, and 
 familiar to the bathing-women on the beach. And most young 
 girls, having heard the outline from the maid in the lodgings, or 
 from the women on the beach, find their way to a sheltered 
 corner of the now crowded graveyard, where charming flowers 
 come up thickly, watched periodically by a plain good honest 
 country gentleman, and tended carefully by a professional gar- 
 dener of reputation, in the pay of a lady abroad where there 
 are rings and bands of choicest colours, and where, on a simple 
 granite headstone, is carved the pretty name of 
 
 " VIOLET." 
 
 THE BKD* 
 
 BY W. H. SMITH AHD SON, 19, STRAND, LO'DOJT, 
 
YB 74544