ELINOR 
 COLHOUSE
 
 AUTHOR'S NOTE 
 
 Elinor Colhouse is, properly speaking, a 
 prologue to the previously published volume 
 called Richard Kurt. Both form part of a 
 series of five books, of which the third, 
 called The Rock, is now in preparation. 
 
 The author considers each book to be 
 complete in itself, but he is moved to offer 
 this explanation out of respect and considera- 
 tion for those of his readers who are suffi- 
 ciently interested in the development of his 
 work to desire to make further acquaintance 
 with it.
 
 ELINOR COLHOUSE 
 
 BY STEPHEN HUDSON 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 ALFRED . A KNOPF 
 1922
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1922, BY 
 
 ALFRED A. KNOPF, INC. 
 Published, March, 19il 
 
 Set up and printed by the Vail-Ballou Co., Binghamton, N. Y. 
 
 Paper (Warren't) furnished 6 Henry Lindenmeyr Son*, New York, X. Y. 
 
 Bound bit the //. Wolff Estate, New York, N. Y. 
 
 MANUFACTURED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
 
 TO THE MEMORY OF 
 CHARLES LOUIS PHILIPPE 
 
 2034712
 
 THE morning was a most inconvenient time 
 to receive a stranger, especially that morn- 
 ing, as she had been washing her hair, and 
 besides, that ornery half-breed help never 
 got her work done till dinner-time. But 
 there was Richard Kurt waiting down- 
 stairs to see her. She began hastily doing 
 up her hair, which, though not as silky as 
 she would have liked, was thick and could 
 be speedily what she called "wadged into 
 shape." She "wadged" it, therefore, and 
 put on her dress, the fastenings of which 
 she had been altering while her hair dried. 
 Pinning down the front with various 
 brooches and scarfpins, gifts from differ- 
 ent admirers, she read again the letter she 
 had received the previous day from Frank 
 Waters. 
 
 "My dear Nell, I've just unselfishly 
 given young Richard Kurt a note of intro- 
 
 7
 
 8 ELINOR COLHOUSE 
 
 duction to you. He's the nephew of Mr. 
 Theophilus Kurt, President of the C. W '. 
 and M., who is now in London. Richard's 
 father is rich. I'm not high-flier enough 
 for you. 
 
 "He asked if you were a flirt and I told 
 him, as you were the prettiest girl in the 
 South, you might be with some people, I 
 only knew you as what I remain, your old 
 friend, 
 
 "F. W. n 
 
 Glancing in the mirror, she rubbed her 
 nose with an old powder leather and went 
 downstairs. 
 
 The young man came towards her from 
 the arm-chair beside the fireplace. He 
 looked hardly more than a boy, tall and 
 very slight. The shutters were half 
 closed, but she could see that his hair was 
 lightish, that his eyes were dark and that 
 he had a little fair moustache. 
 
 "I hope I haven't come at an incon- 
 venient hour, Miss Colhouse?" His ac- 
 cent was very English. 
 
 "Not at all. I'm delighted. When did 
 you -arrive?" She dropped gracefully and 
 so lightly into the old arm-chair with a 
 broken spring that it didn't even creak,
 
 ELINOR COLHOUSE 9 
 
 while he stood, stick and straw hat in 
 hand. 
 
 "Early this morning. I thought I'd 
 come at once because I shan't be staying 
 long." He fidgeted a little, then sat down 
 at her suggestion. 
 
 "Don't you like Manitou?" 
 
 "I don't know it, do I? It's not the 
 sort of place I expected. As far as I can 
 make out, there's no sport to be got." 
 
 Elinor was prepared for this point of 
 view. In New York, those who were not 
 sportsmen talked as though they were. 
 
 "Do you hunt in England?" She asked 
 the question as though it didn't make any 
 difference whether he did or not, but New 
 York had taught her that the hunting 
 brand was the best. 
 
 "When I get the chance." 
 
 "I suppose your people do." 
 
 He laughed. "You should see the 
 governor on a horse." 
 
 "Your father isn't a sportsman then?" 
 
 "Well, you see, his idea of riding is 
 what he learnt when he came to London 
 as a boy and rode in the Park on Sundays. 
 He hasn't got any seat at all. Now 
 mother can ride. She's got a perfect seat 
 and hands; she's a born horsewoman."
 
 10 ELINOR COLHOUSE 
 
 He spoke eagerly. She felt he had a lot 
 to say about his mother. 
 
 "Where did she learn?" 
 
 "Oh, I don't know. Picked it up, I 
 suppose." 
 
 She was puzzled. What did he mean 
 by picking it up ? "I suppose she lived in 
 the country?" 
 
 "I don't know where mother lived be- 
 fore she married the governor." His eyes 
 were dark and penetrating when hers met 
 them, but he frequently looked away, as 
 though he thought he was staring. He 
 spoke very distinctly and his manner was 
 eager and jerky, with an occasional nerv- 
 ous gesture. 
 
 In answer to his inquiry she told him 
 she lived in Waterville but had just come 
 from New York, where she had been visit- 
 ing a friend. She was aware he was 
 looking at her closely though she pre- 
 tended not to notice. He appeared to 
 have nothing more to say and she gazed 
 towards the opening in the half-shuttered 
 window. He was on her left, the best 
 side of her profile, as it happened, though 
 both were so good it hardly mattered. 
 She sat back with grace in the low arm- 
 chair, her arms, bare to the elbow, along
 
 ELINOR COLHOUSE II 
 
 the sides and her tapering fingers clasp- 
 ing the edges. Her dress was a little 
 open at the neck and her breast rose and 
 fell rhythmically. She turned, creating 
 another pose, as he got up. 
 
 "I must be going; it's lunch-time. May 
 I come back this afternoon? I should like 
 to call on Mrs. Colhouse." 
 
 She restrained any sign of satisfaction. 
 "My mother will be very pleased. We 
 could go for a walk if you like and come 
 back here after." 
 
 "I should love to." He went lightly 
 to the door, opening it to a flood of sun- 
 shine which lit up his light, straight hair 
 and made him look younger than ever. 
 
 But it was the impression she made on 
 him that mattered and she hoped he had 
 taken an alluring portrait away with him. 
 
 ii 
 
 Her bedroom window commanded the 
 path which was a short cut to the hotel 
 and she watched him from behind the 
 curtain. Again his extreme youthfulness 
 struck her; he did not look more than 
 eighteen. His figure was unmistakably 
 that of a gentleman; his loose-fitting tweed 
 suit and brown shoes were un-American.
 
 12 ELINOR COLHOUSE 
 
 Her self-made blue dimity dress was 
 suitable for a short walk on a summer 
 afternoon. Its flimsiness set off her slight, 
 graceful figure; the open neck edged with 
 lace displayed her mellow olive skin. The 
 red roses drooping over the brim of her 
 leghorn hat against her blue-black hair 
 matched the touch of artifice on her lips 
 and cheeks. Two dark red roses lay on 
 the dressing-table, and as she entered the 
 sitting-room she held them to her finely 
 cut nostrils, standing on the threshold 
 while he came towards her. His ad- 
 miration, though restrained, was obvious. 
 Any man she knew would have greeted 
 her with a flattering allusion to what she 
 was aware was an artistic presentation of 
 herself. He made none. 
 
 "How kind of you to take me out, but 
 it's awfully hot for a walk." 
 
 "We needn't go far and we can sit down 
 somewhere in the shade." 
 
 They strolled by the side of the lake 
 till they reached a small path which led 
 upwards gently, through stretches of 
 heather, to a timber gate with pine-trees 
 on either side. They had hardly spoken 
 till she asked him to lift the top bars. 
 Slightly raising her skirt, she gave a
 
 ELINOR COLHOUSE 13 
 
 little run and, touching the lowest bar 
 lightly with her foot, bounded forward 
 like a bird. A few steps farther on were 
 some felled fir-trees to which she pointed 
 with her parasol. 
 
 "You mustn't sit on them in that pretty 
 dress." He threw off his jacket and laid 
 it where she could sit with comfort. She 
 disposed herself gracefully and he threw 
 himself down beside her. 
 
 "Do you think you can bear a day or 
 two longer here?" She gazed down at 
 him with a demure expression in her large 
 dark eyes. 
 
 "Of course, this is delightful," he broke 
 off lamely. "Do you mind my smoking 
 a pipe?" 
 
 "No; I like them." No American she 
 knew smoked a pipe. 
 
 "I'm sorry, the pouch is in the pocket 
 may I?" 
 
 She moved herself just enough for him 
 to feel in the pocket; in extracting the 
 pouch he had to put his hand partly under 
 her thigh and he flushed. 
 
 She took no notice of his embarrass- 
 ment and lay back, displaying carelessly 
 a shapely silk-clad calf. He lit his pipe 
 and leant his back against the log upon
 
 14 ELINOR COLHOUSE 
 
 which she was sitting. A minute passed; 
 neither spoke. A bird called in the dis- 
 tance, another answered it, there was a 
 faint lapping of water from the lake 
 beyond. He jumped up and stood facing 
 her. 
 
 "I don't mean to fall in love with you, 
 you know." 
 
 She lifted her face slowly and smiled. 
 
 "Who thought about such a thing, Mr. 
 Kurt?" It was the first time she had 
 given him a name. 
 
 "I've thought about it. How can one 
 help it when one's with you?" 
 
 "That's very flattering." Her tone 
 was bantering. 
 
 "Don't laugh at me. I want to be 
 friends with you but I don't want to flirt. 
 I don't know how to. I always wonder 
 what these Americans say to girls. They 
 seem to be able to go on all day every 
 day talking to them. What on earth do 
 they talk about ? What am I to talk to you 
 about?" He looked her squarely in the 
 eyes. 
 
 She laughed but she knew it was not the 
 right laugh for the occasion. Her laugh 
 was a source of anxiety. She couldn't
 
 ELINOR COLHOUSE 15 
 
 get it right, though she had made a 
 special study of it even at theatres. 
 
 "Tell me about your life in England. 
 I'd love to hear about that." 
 
 She indicated that he should sit down 
 beside her again. He did so, pulling 
 valiantly at his pipe. 
 
 "I don't know where to begin. Besides, 
 I've been gone a year." 
 
 "Have you been a year in Cliftonburg?" 
 
 "No; thank God. I was in Canada for 
 nine months with Billy Kartwright." 
 
 "Do you mean Sir William Leicester 
 Kartwright, who married Isolde Allones?" 
 She knew all about the Kartwrights from 
 Town Topics and if Richard Kurt was 
 a friend of theirs he must be very well 
 connected. 
 
 "Yes. Ykni see, he was in the gover- 
 nor's business. I don't know what he did 
 there not much, I should think. They 
 got up a big farming company; the 
 governor put money into it. The com- 
 pany owned land at different places along 
 the line between Medicine Hat and Cal- 
 gary and Billy Kartwright went along in 
 a caboose organising settlements." He 
 paused and considered an instant. "It
 
 16 ELINOR COLHOUSE 
 
 was a fine scheme, but when the labourers 
 found out that the Canadians got double 
 as much as they'd contracted for they 
 turned it down. Billy Kartwright did it 
 all on a grand scale. He got over I 
 don't know how many Polled Angus and 
 Galloway bulls, Clydesdale stallions and 
 Roscommon rams, and they all went 
 wrong got sick or something and when 
 the snow came they half starved; they 
 couldn't feed in the snow like the native- 
 bred ones could. The imported ploughs 
 were no good for the soil; nothing 
 was any good. And Kartwright made 
 his friends managers of the farms, Public 
 School fellows and all that, who didn't 
 know the West and took the whole 
 thing as a sort of sporting scheme. One 
 got up a scratch pack of hounds; another 
 started laying out a cricket pitch " 
 His pipe had gone out; he began relight- 
 ing it. "You can imagine the rest," he 
 said, between the puffs. 
 
 "And what did Sir William Kartwright 
 do?" 
 
 "He went off home with his wife and 
 left Blackett and me to run the show." 
 He paused. "Well, perhaps not exactly 
 that. He appointed a Scotch land bailiff
 
 ELINOR COLHOUSE IJ 
 
 general manager but the labourers collared 
 him and stuck him in a cage. He looked 
 like a baboon anyhow." He lay back and 
 laughed heartily at the recollection. 
 
 "But where is Sir Leicester Kartwright 
 now?" Elinor was not interested in what 
 happened to the bailiff. 
 
 "In England, trying to put things 
 right with his shareholders. I think the 
 governor expected to lose his money, and 
 only took shares to please Kartwright and 
 get me a job. You see, the governor's 
 got a big business. Of course they spend 
 a lot of money, especially my mother; he 
 doesn't seem to care what she spends." 
 He knocked the ashes out of his pipe 
 on his heel and looked up at her. "I 
 love her to spend a lot of money and 
 have everything. She ought to; there's 
 no one like her. But he kicks up a row 
 about my spending a few pounds more 
 than my allowance, and keeps me out 
 here when I want to go to the Varsity." 
 
 Elinor was puzzled and was framing 
 a non-committal remark, when he got 
 up suddenly and added: "I say, I'm 
 cracked to go on saying all this. That's 
 the worst of me. I can't stop talking 
 when I get started. But please don't
 
 l8 ELINOR COLHOUSE 
 
 think I always do it. I don't know why 
 I did to-day, except that " He paused, 
 and as he stood looking at her his brown 
 eyes glistened. 
 
 She rose gracefully to her feet and, slip- 
 ping her hand inside his arm, pressed it 
 gently. 
 
 "I say, you are kind." He kept her 
 hand close to his side as they walked 
 slowly on together. 
 
 iii 
 
 They found Mrs. Colhouse sitting in 
 the porch, talking across the rose fence 
 to Mrs. Shuter, who, Elinor considered, 
 was a common old woman. She shot 
 a displeased glance at her mother, turn- 
 ing her back to the boundary, on the 
 other side of which the objectionable 
 neighbour was sitting under a laburnum- 
 tree. When Elinor presented Richard 
 Kurt to her mother, she was unpleasantly 
 conscious that he had noticed her ungra- 
 ciousness. The deference of his attitude 
 towards Mrs. Colhouse and his remark, 
 obviously intended for the ignored neigh- 
 bour to overhear: "How nice for you to 
 have such a charming garden next door.
 
 ELINOR COLHOUSE 19 
 
 Isn't that laburnum lovely?" increased her 
 irritation. 
 
 Richard placed a chair for her with its 
 back to the fence, but she ignored the 
 attention and entered the house. Just 
 like mammy to give her away like that 
 with her po' white trash. She flew upstairs, 
 and in her annoyance threw her pretty 
 leghorn hat on the bed with a vehemence 
 that turned it over on its bent brim in 
 a state of abject disgrace. After she had 
 powdered her nose, she felt sorry for it 
 and, giving it one or two restoring pokes, 
 replaced it on her head. When she had 
 removed her shoes and put on high-heeled 
 slippers, dipped her hands in cool water 
 and sprayed herself with essence of lilac, 
 especially after she had taken a good look 
 at herself in the mirror, she felt better. 
 All the Mrs. Shuters in the world couldn't 
 alter the fact of her uncommon beauty, 
 and if he thought she had a temper, let 
 him. A girl with a face and figure like 
 hers had a right to a good deal more 
 than temper. She went slowly down- 
 stairs, humming and, standing well inside 
 the door, where Mrs. Shuter couldn't see 
 her, suggested their coming into the house.
 
 20 ELINOR COLHOUSE 
 
 Cold tea and some cakes were on the table, 
 which Mrs. Colhouse began serving, but 
 Kurt insisted that she should sit down and 
 offered her the first glass and the plate 
 with sliced lemon. Why did he make 
 such a point of handing everything to 
 mammy first? She made an effort to 
 repress her feelings, but she could not 
 force herself to join in the conversation, 
 and though he looked at her shyly now 
 and then while he talked, she returned 
 monosyllables and he soon got up and 
 said he must be going. 
 
 "You have been so kind. I will come 
 and say good-bye before I go." 
 
 For an instant her spirits sank, but she 
 collected herself and asked: "There's a 
 dance at the hotel this evening, isn't 
 there?" 
 
 "A dance? I didn't know. I say, do 
 come." He advanced into the little sit- 
 ting-room again. "And you too, Mrs. 
 Colhouse, won't you?" 
 
 "Mr. Kurt, I haven't been to a dance 
 for twenty years, but I daresay Nell will 
 
 go." 
 
 "If there is one, may I come and fetch 
 you?" He looked anxiously at Elinor. 
 
 "If you like. But I must know at once."
 
 ELINOR COLHOUSE 21 
 
 With a hurried good-bye he ran up the 
 garden path. 
 
 "A nice fool you made me look." 
 
 "Why how, Nell?" 
 
 "I've told you to keep away from Mrs. 
 Shuter." 
 
 "But, my dear, I can't be rude to our 
 neighbour, and you wearing her roses 
 too." 
 
 "I'll pay for them, come to that. I 
 don't want her around when I've got com- 
 pany. She'll get cackling about all sorts 
 of things. I've told you that ever so 
 often." 
 
 "But sure-ly that English boy don't 
 matter. He's too young to count, isn't 
 he?" 
 
 Elinor felt her temper rising but she 
 restrained herself. "Now, mammy, you 
 listen to me. I know Richard Kurt's 
 young, but he's the best chance I've ever 
 had and probably shall ever have. His 
 parents live in London, and they've got 
 a big position there. You know I've 
 always wanted to marry an Englishman. 
 His father's rich how rich I don't know. 
 He says he's got no money himself, but 
 that don't matter, he will have. And I
 
 22 ELINOR COLHOUSE 
 
 mean to marry him if I can and chance 
 it. That's all there is about it." 
 
 Mrs. Colhouse threw herself back in her 
 chair and gazed at her daughter with as- 
 tonished eyes. "Marry him, that baby, 
 and you only saw him to-day for the first 
 time. Lord 'a' mercy. You'd be taking a 
 kid to raise." 
 
 Elinor made an impatient sound with 
 her tongue against the back of her teeth. 
 "See here, mammy, you know I've got 
 sense and you know the sort of life we 
 lead. Now I'm determined to get out of 
 it myself and get you out too." 
 
 "How did you get to know him?" Mrs. 
 Colhouse asked. 
 
 "Frank Waters gave him a letter to 
 me." 
 
 Mrs. Colhouse looked up inquiringly. 
 
 "You remember the time Sissie Warren 
 went up to Cliftonburg to that great ball 
 where there was a baron and came back 
 with her head buzzing full of it. That 
 ball was given by Mr. Theophilus Kurt, 
 this boy's uncle, and he's the president of 
 the C. W. & M. He's in London now." 
 
 Mrs. Colhouse stared at Elinor through 
 her spectacles with a startled expression. 
 "And what would he say to it all? He'd
 
 ELINOR COLHOUSE 23 
 
 never want that boy to get engaged while 
 he's away." 
 
 Elinor went to the mirror over the 
 
 mantel and pulled a long pin out of her 
 
 hat. "I don't intend to be engaged to 
 
 him when his uncle comes back." She 
 
 calmly arranged a curl beside her temple. 
 
 "Then what do you mean to do?" 
 
 Elinor turned round and tiptoed across 
 
 the room to her mother's chair with her 
 
 finger on her lips. "I mean to be married 
 
 to him," she whispered. 
 
 iv 
 
 There was a dance at the hotel, and 
 by eight o'clock the combined intensive 
 labours of Elinor and her mother had 
 wrought so great a change in what she 
 called her "old blue rag" that only an 
 expert could have identified it as the one 
 she wore with such success at the Pome- 
 granate Club Ball two years before. It 
 was of blue velvet, with black guipure 
 and bead ornaments. The sleeves were 
 like elongated balloons. Elinor, born 
 strategist of the wardrobe that she was, 
 laid her plans against emergency well in 
 advance. At odd moments for some time 
 past she had bespangled two square yards
 
 24 ELINOR COLHOUSE 
 
 or so of the turquoise blue velvet with 
 faceted bits of jet, replacing therewith 
 the more meagre and less salient sleeves 
 of an earlier period. There were other 
 modifications of more or less significance, 
 but it was the final assembling of the 
 parts that had called for her extreme 
 ingenuity under pressure of time. The 
 effort made so heavy a demand upon her 
 nerves that by the time the work of art 
 had reached safety point her appetite 
 had been completely cut and her only 
 preparation for the evening's contin- 
 gencies was a glass of cold tea. Mrs. 
 Colhouse had stood nobly in the breach, 
 meeting difficulties as they arose, and sup- 
 plying reinforcements of needles, threads, 
 hooks, eyes, beads, tucks and so forth 
 whenever requisitioned. It was hardly 
 to be expected that such an enterprise 
 could be brought to a successful con- 
 clusion without one or two small reverses. 
 One, came when, daintily underclothed, 
 perfumed and curled, Elinor raised her 
 arms for her dress to be slipped over her 
 head. A hook caught a strand of hair; 
 it might have been ought to have been 
 avoided. It was true that Mrs. Col-
 
 ELINOR COLHOUSE 25 
 
 house was not so young as she had been, 
 that she had had no supper and had taken 
 off her spectacles just before to rub her 
 eyes, but it was maddening for Elinor, of 
 whom that coiffure had demanded at 
 least twenty minutes of precious time. 
 She stamped with helpless rage as her 
 mother, making matters worse in her mis- 
 guided attempts to disentangle the tress, 
 brought the whole delicate fabric crum- 
 bling down in ruin. 
 
 "Oh, mammy, you old fool, you've 
 done for my hair; and oh, oh, you're 
 hurting you're hurting. Oh, dear! oh, 
 dear!" and she broke into sobs. It was 
 an awful moment, but Elinor surmounted 
 it. Brushing her mother aside, restrain- 
 ing her tears and concentrating her will, 
 she defeated the hook, extricated her head 
 and drew the dress down, standing a little 
 dishevelled and breathing hard, but ready, 
 if necessary, for another punishing round. 
 It came. This time it really was a case 
 of criminal negligence. Mammy had ac- 
 tually sewn two hooks where eyes ought to 
 have been, and vice versa. Elinor stood 
 motionless, too overcome for utterance. 
 The little brass clock derisively indicated
 
 26 ELINOR COLHOUSE 
 
 twenty minutes to nine. "Did ever any- 
 one .? Was there ever such a born fool, 
 such a doggorned idiot ?" 
 
 A sound struck on her ear as though 
 it were in the room; she turned sharply 
 round. Through the window, open to the 
 vault of heaven and to the path leading 
 to the hotel, she saw Richard Kurt, and at 
 that instant the sound stopped. He had 
 been whistling. Now, silent and without 
 looking up, he disappeared from her view 
 as he made his way below her to the front 
 of the house. 
 
 "And to think, besides everything else, 
 you left that window open !" 
 
 She flung the words at her mother; it 
 was past bearing. 
 
 To Mrs. Colhouse's half-frightened 
 "Do you think he saw you?" she did not 
 vouchsafe an answer. 
 
 He apologised for being unable to take 
 her to the hotel in a cab; none were avail- 
 able. At this she laughed. "Hacks in 
 Manitou! Now if you'd asked for a 
 buggy" 
 
 "A buggy! Of course. I'd not 
 thought of that,"
 
 ELINOR COLHOUSE 27 
 
 She was pinning a chiffon scarf round 
 her hair. 
 
 "I'm glad you didn't. It would have 
 blown me about more and it's only a few 
 steps. Would you take these?" Her 
 manner was graciousness itself as she 
 handed him her dancing slippers, daintily 
 tied up with blue ribbon. He turned them 
 over, fingering them. "I say, you have 
 got small feet." 
 
 The wind blew pretty stiffly in their 
 faces as they mounted the slight ascent. 
 It went clean through her thin ball dress, 
 over which she had thrown a light cash- 
 mere shawl, an old possession of her 
 mother's. On almost any other occasion 
 the discomfort of the walk, the feeling of 
 .disarrangement, would have put her on 
 bad terms with herself, but this evening 
 she battled on cheerfully and when he 
 apologised for the breeze she said she en- 
 joyed it. 
 
 They had passed through the crowded 
 lobby together and stood at the entrance 
 of the ballroom. She was enjoying the 
 sensation their entrance had created. She 
 knew she was the loveliest amongst the 
 many pretty girls as she was the best
 
 28 ELINOR COLHOUSE 
 
 dressed. She knew too that the arrival 
 on the scene of Kurt was an event, not 
 only because his clothes were noticeably 
 well cut and his whole appearance elegant, 
 nor was it because his hair was parted 
 at the extreme left side of his head and 
 brushed straight back in a fashion no man 
 there would have ventured, even had he 
 thought of it. What it was she did not 
 exactly know, but perhaps it was his gen- 
 eral Englishness that made him superior 
 to the other men. And what pleased her 
 still more was that the other men knew 
 it and disliked him for it and that the girls 
 knew it also and envied her. When he re- 
 marked: "I'm afraid we'll have to sit it 
 out; I can't dance like that," she muttered, 
 half absently: "Like what?" In her 
 pleased absorption she had not grasped 
 the meaning of his words and it was only 
 when he added: "We don't reverse in Eng- 
 land, you know," that her attention was 
 roused. She knew that everything he did 
 and said would be critically noticed, that 
 their manner together was under scrutiny, 
 but she did not waver. "We'll dance as 
 you dance in England." 
 
 He stood with his arm extended, and 
 she, taking two gliding steps, swung him
 
 ELINOR COLHOUSE 29 
 
 into the midst of the dancers. He had 
 an ear for time but no idea of dancing. 
 
 "Just swing with me," she whispered. 
 "Let yourself go; I'll steer." 
 
 He did as she told him. It was not a 
 perfect success but it was near enough. 
 They circled up and down. With every 
 turn he improved; before the waltz was 
 finished he had got into the step. 
 
 "That'll do for now. Take me into 
 the lobby." 
 
 "I say, you are a splendid dancer. I 
 never could have got through without 
 you." He looked at her, admiration in 
 his eyes. 
 
 "I suppose I do dance well." Her tone 
 was careless. "I like the way you hold 
 me. Mind you always hold me like that. 
 I hate that close way." 
 
 His way of holding was very effective; 
 if she could improve his step they would 
 look perfect together. 
 
 "I know what you mean, but they do 
 dance well, don't they? In England men 
 dance awfully badly. Most of them don't 
 dance at all, and reversing's barred. At 
 the hunt balls they stop you; it's con- 
 sidered caddish to reverse, but that's be- 
 cause they go round and round like teeto-
 
 30 ELINOR COLHOUSE 
 
 turns. They wouldn't bar it if they 
 danced like you do here." 
 
 They danced together the whole eve- 
 ning. He got absorbed in the steps and 
 improved each time. A few men came up 
 and asked her for dances, but she declined 
 coldly. Not a woman came near her, but 
 he did not notice nor did he look at any- 
 one. 
 
 He talked of nothing but dancing on 
 their way back, and when they reached the 
 cottage gate he hadn't finished what he 
 wanted to say. She went in and turned 
 up the lamp in the little hall while he stood 
 watching her, uncertain whether to go at 
 once or linger. 
 
 "Good-night." She held out her hand 
 and he took it with reluctance. "I hate 
 leaving you. May I come and see you 
 to-morrow?" 
 
 "It's two o'clock. To-morrow will be 
 Wednesday, and you said you were going 
 away." 
 
 "But I shan't. I shan't go until " 
 
 She waited for him to finish the sen- 
 tence, smiling half-teasingly. 
 
 "You know what I mean," he faltered. 
 
 "Indeed I don't." 
 
 Taking refuge in action, he threw his
 
 ELINOR COLHOUSE 31 
 
 cape across his shoulders and lighted a 
 cigarette, then stood looking at her as 
 though he wanted to say something but 
 couldn't find the words. She was leaning 
 with her back against the wooden mantel- 
 piece ; the only light came from the flicker- 
 ing lamp in the hall, which, she noticed, 
 smelt horribly. He turned abruptly and 
 went to the open door, stopped again, 
 came back into the room. 
 
 "When may I come after lunch?" 
 
 "You can come to lunch if you'll put up 
 with it." 
 
 "How sweet of you. I should love to. 
 Good-night." 
 
 She locked the front door and went 
 slowly upstairs. She was tired, but she 
 was not at all sleepy. What a boy he was 
 how different from any she had known ! 
 Was it wise to have asked him to a meal? 
 When he saw how they lived, he might 
 think less of her. Would he believe that 
 though poor old mammy was very south- 
 ern and provincial she was a lady? These 
 were risks, but risks that had to be run; 
 there was no time to lose. She lit the 
 candles on her dressing-table, peering at 
 herself in the glass, took up a hand mirror 
 and had a good look at each side of her
 
 32 ELINOR COLHOUSE 
 
 head and the back as well. She pulled her 
 arms out of the wide sleeves and took 
 another long look at herself. She stepped 
 out of her dress and petticoat and stood an 
 instant in her thin silk vest. The looking- 
 glass upon the chest of drawers was too 
 high to reflect her below the waist. She 
 looked down intently at her legs, pulling 
 the thin black silk stockings taut; she knew 
 they were as nearly perfect in shape as 
 legs could be. Then she slipped on her 
 nightgown and blew out the candles. 
 
 Mrs. Colhouse was a good cook, especi- 
 ally under Elinor's superintendence. The 
 moment they heard the sound of Richard's 
 footsteps on the path, the lake whitefish 
 was put on the grill, the little round bis- 
 cuits lay ready to place in the oven. The 
 half-breed help looked on; she was never 
 allowed to touch the food. Elinor had 
 laid the table, had prepared the cucumber 
 and tomato salad, which looked deliciously 
 tempting in a dish shaped like a large 
 green leaf. A glass vase full of Mrs. 
 Shuter's choicest rosebuds decorated the 
 table, upon which lay a wooden bowl of 
 baked potatoes, small glass saucers with
 
 ELINOR COLHOUSE 33 
 
 delicately rolled pats of yellow butter 
 snuggling crisply between their protecting 
 lumps of ice, a little silver tray of salted 
 almonds and one of chocolates. In front 
 of each place was a half cantelupe, full of 
 cracked ice. 
 
 A curtain made of light cane separated 
 the dining-room from the sitting-room into 
 which Kurt was shown clumsily by the 
 help. He wore white flannel trousers 
 and a tie more vivid in colour mixture 
 than Elinor had ever seen. The hideous 
 combination of it fascinated her. She was 
 very sensitive to colour, and she could not 
 take her eyes off it as, parting the curtain, 
 she came towards him. He must have 
 noticed her stare, for directly after shak- 
 ing hands with her he remarked: "I'm 
 afraid you don't like my tie. It's only a 
 sort; of imitation of the Zingari, you 
 know." 
 
 She didn't ask what Zingari were, but 
 told him lunch was ready and took him 
 into the other room. She sat down at 
 once, but he stood beside her, waiting. 
 
 "What about Mrs Colhouse?" 
 
 "Mamma will come in presently. She 
 insists on doing the cooking. We can't 
 get cooks here and our old coloured cook's
 
 34 ELINOR COLHOUSE 
 
 at Waterville." She watched his face, 
 wondering how this humiliating avowal 
 would affect him. 
 
 "I'm so sorry I'm giving her extra 
 trouble. I wish I'd known. Can't I do 
 something? I'm rather good at cooking. 
 I began when I was a fag and polished 
 it up in Canada." 
 
 Wondering what a fag was, Elinor 
 made him sit down, assuring him that her 
 mother would be upset if he took any 
 notice. He praised everything; it all 
 looked so appetising. And when she told 
 him that she had had a hand in it, he ex- 
 pressed his admiration enthusiastically. 
 
 After the hired girl had brought the 
 fish, Mrs. Colhouse came in. Her face 
 was flushed, and she glanced at Elinor 
 appehensively as Kurt rose and warmly 
 greeted her, holding the chair for her and 
 passing the sugar for her melon. But 
 she wouldn't take any and it was only 
 when Elinor pronounced the whitefish to 
 be "lovely" that a look of relief came into 
 her face. Things then went easier, and 
 when Elinor, leaving the table and going 
 out to the ice-chest, returned with a large 
 glass bowl of sliced peaches and ice-cream,
 
 ELINOR COLHOUSE 35 
 
 which she informed him she had herself 
 prepared, she read in his face gratifying 
 admiration of her taste and skill. She 
 began to think that his admittance to their 
 modestly conducted household, far from 
 shocking him, had established an ad- 
 ditional claim on his consideration. 
 There was a perceptible deepening of his 
 general interest, a growing sympathy in 
 his manner towards both her mother and 
 herself. He seemed to her to be appreci- 
 ating them the more for their making him 
 so much at home. This was not in line 
 with her experience; any other man she 
 could think of, though delighted to enjoy 
 her society under such intimate conditions, 
 would have become familiar on the 
 strength of them. When Mrs. Colhouse 
 helped the hired girl to clear the plates, 
 he begged her to allow him to do his share. 
 "You don't know how much pleasure it 
 would give me. I ought to wait on you." 
 Her mother's answer "You'll get used to 
 being waited on, time you've finished," was 
 not at all the sort of answer she ought to 
 have made and caused Elinor to take him 
 into the other room and tell him that 
 "Mamma would so much rather do it."
 
 36 ELINOR COLHOUSE 
 
 "I do like your mother," he said, 
 "she's so kind; but she looks rather sad, 
 doesn't she?" 
 
 Elinor was sitting in the low arm-chair, 
 fanning herself; it was very hot. "I'm 
 afraid she has reason for being sad." She 
 sighed and put her fan before her eyes. 
 This was a moment to take advantage 
 of. "She's not happy with my father and 
 we've lost all our money." 
 
 He sat down close to her at the end of 
 the sofa. "I'm so sorry." 
 
 "We used to live in Baltimore. Father 
 is a doctor and was quite well off then. 
 When he lost his money, we went to 
 Waterville; and things have got worse and 
 worse. And I'm an expense to him, 
 but he adores me; he'd give me every- 
 thing if he could. When I was a child, 
 I was brought up like a little prin- 
 cess. Now he's old and he's taken to 
 speculating with the little that is left." 
 She folded her fan and turned her face 
 away. 
 
 "I'm so sorry." He laid his hand 
 lightly upon hers as it lay in her lap. 
 "I'm so sorry," he repeated. 
 
 "Oh, well, it can't be helped." She 
 made a movement as though she were
 
 ELINOR COLHOUSE 37 
 
 shaking off a spectre. "I'm sure I don't 
 know why I should worry you with all 
 that." 
 
 "Worry me ! To think of my having 
 talked to you about my affairs while all 
 the time you were worried to death. To 
 think of your being so good to me, giving 
 me that delicious lunch and all that, when 
 
 you're you're " He got up and 
 
 walked to the window, then came back. 
 "If only I had some money. That's what 
 makes me so angry the governor's got 
 plenty." 
 
 Elinor laughed. "I don't see the con- 
 nection." 
 
 "Why not? What's the good of 
 money if one can't help one's friends?" 
 
 "But you hardly know us." 
 
 "I feel as if I'd known you for years. 
 You know what I mean. Your mother 
 seems like a dear old aunt." He had 
 barely said the words when Mrs. Colhouse 
 appeared, followed by the help, carrying 
 a tray of steaming hot, delicious-smelling 
 coffee. 
 
 "I say, what a treat. I know you've 
 been making that. How naughty of you. 
 At home my eldest sister always does it, 
 except when there are people."
 
 38 ELINOR COLHOUSE 
 
 "How many sisters have you, Mr. 
 Kurt?" Mrs. Colhouse asked. 
 
 "Two. I wish you knew them and my 
 mother." He paused and looked at 
 Elinor. "Perhaps you will some day." 
 
 It was plain that he wanted them to 
 know all about himself, and he told them 
 a good deal that afternoon. Elinor knew 
 her mother was puzzled by many of his 
 expressions and allusions; so was she, for 
 that matter, but they needn't expose their 
 ignorance. They were all things that 
 could be learnt without giving oneself 
 away if one had sense.
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 DURING the next few days, Elinor had 
 misgivings. It was surprising what a long 
 period twenty-four hours could be when 
 one was anxiously hoping and waiting for 
 a particular thing to happen. Not that 
 the time passed slowly; on the contrary, 
 she grudged every hour which went by 
 without bringing her nearer to her goal 
 arid asked herself whether she had made 
 the best use of it, for it seemed to her that 
 events were not taking the course they 
 ought to take. Was there anything she 
 had done or left undone which might 
 have brought about a more favourable, 
 a more pregnant and especially a more 
 emotional situation? For, up till now, 
 in spite of outward appearances which 
 might impress onlookers at the hotel 
 and cottage residents, in spite of an 
 entirely sympathetic manner towards 
 her, Richard Kurt -had made no decla- 
 ration. And she got no support from 
 her mother, who seemed to be un- 
 
 39
 
 40 ELINOR COLHOUSE 
 
 naturally and unreasonably protecting 
 him at her daughter's expense. It was 
 as though her maternal instinct had been 
 aroused by his artlessness and by what she 
 imagined to be his defencelessness. He 
 had spent each day with them; this was 
 the third since the dance, and Elinor was 
 to take supper with him at the hotel, 
 whither he had now gone to dress. 
 There had been a thunderstorm, which 
 had kept them in all the afternoon. He 
 was apparently quite as pleased when her 
 mother was present as when she and he 
 were alone together. She went so far as 
 to express ironical wonder that her mother 
 didn't come and chaperone her at supper. 
 
 "Yes," Mrs. Colhouse tartly replied, 
 "I guess he needs a mother more than he 
 does a wife." At which Elinor went up 
 to dress, determining, whatever happened, 
 she would manage without her mother's 
 assistance. 
 
 He arrived punctually at eight as ar- 
 ranged, but when she came into the room 
 he got up, hardly looking at her, and 
 continued begging her mother to come 
 with them. "I can't see why you don't 
 come. Your dress? You always look
 
 ELINOR COLHOUSE 41 
 
 nice. And what on earth do clothes mat- 
 ter at that rotten hotel?" 
 
 This was not agreeable for Elinor, who 
 had put on a specially smart New-York- 
 inspired dinner-dress. 
 
 On the way up he told her he didn't 
 quite like taking her alone. Was it really 
 all right? Wouldn't people talk? 
 
 "If you're afraid to be seen with me 
 you'd better say so and not take me." 
 She stood still as she uttered the words. 
 She was losing patience with him. 
 
 "I say! You know I don't mean that. 
 It's entirely for your sake; please don't 
 be offended." His manner was appeal- 
 ing and she relented, but she was not 
 really appeased. It was galling that, un- 
 like everyone else, he was unimpressed 
 by her fashionable appearance. He 
 seemed to take it for granted, for he only 
 glanced at her now and then when he 
 talked. On this occasion she knew she 
 was at her best; everyone in the dining- 
 room stared at them as they went to their 
 table. He had stupidly chosen one in a 
 corner, where she could least be seen. 
 She couldn't resist commenting upon this 
 with some asperity, and his "Less con-
 
 42 ELINOR COLHOUSE 
 
 spicuous. I thought you would prefer 
 it" would have increased her irritation 
 had not an imposing-looking man and a 
 lady wearing a diamond necklace and 
 diamond rings taken their seats at the 
 next table. Kurt had his back to them, 
 which was as well, for the man stared at 
 her with marked admiration in fact, kept 
 his eyes on her nearly the whole time. 
 He must be someone of importance, for 
 towards the end of supper Hugh M'Alpin 
 came over to their neighbours' table and 
 shook hands with them, asking when they 
 arrived. M'Alpin was the most im- 
 portant man in Manitou, and only went 
 out of his way for people who were worth 
 while. 
 
 "We came up in my private cyar from 
 Detroit. I'm on my annual grand tour of 
 the system. There's a conference of the 
 Inter-state Commission at Milwaukee and 
 I'm goin' to get things straightened out." 
 He addressed himself to M'Alpin but his 
 eyes were directed at Elinor. He now be- 
 gan conversing audibly with the lady be- 
 side him, mentioning their new "brown- 
 stone front" at Cleveland and their cot- 
 tage at Narragansett. As he rose from 
 the table Kurt kept his back to their neigh-
 
 ELINOR COLHOUSE 43 
 
 hours while he waited for Elinor to pass 
 out. 
 
 They sat down in the lobby where hotel 
 guests gathered after meals. 
 
 "You didn't see that man at the next 
 table, did you?" she could not resist 
 asking. 
 
 "I heard him; that was enough." 
 
 The subject of her question came out of 
 the dining-room and she saw that he was 
 making a bee-line towards them. To her 
 surprise, he held out his hand to Kurt, 
 who rose slowly and apparently touched 
 it with the tips of his fingers as the other 
 asked him, with his eyes on her: "How 
 air yew, young feller? Where's yer 
 uncle?" 
 
 "In London." 
 
 "Guess he'll sell the C. W. & M. Your 
 folk can't make that system pay under the 
 Inter-state regilations. Have a cigyar?" 
 
 Kurt declined politely, but the other 
 showed no intention of moving and still 
 kept his eyes on her. "I gave yer uncle 
 the combination but he warn't takin' any. 
 He's too high-flown, he is, always talking 
 about his shareholders. You've gat to 
 learn shareholders what business is 
 that's what I tell him." After laying
 
 44 ELINOR COLHOUSE 
 
 down the law pretty thoroughly for some 
 minutes as to what Mr. Theophilus Kurt's 
 railroad policy ought and ought not to 
 be, during which time Richard Kurt stood 
 silent, he suddenly turned to Elinor and 
 asked her pointedly whether she was stay- 
 ing at the hotel and how long for. Kurt 
 interrupted: "Miss Colhouse is with her 
 mother at their cottage, Mr. Galton." 
 His tone was icy but the other, with com- 
 plete imperturbability, continued: "Is 
 that so? I know a Dr. Colhouse tried 
 to float a mining proposition at Chicawgo 
 some time back." He looked knowingly 
 at her, and there stood Kurt, with his 
 eyes in front of him, not saying a word. 
 The embarrassing moment was relieved 
 by the appearance of the lady with the 
 diamonds, to whom Mr. Galton made a 
 sign. As she came near them, he intro- 
 duced her as his wife. Kurt offered his 
 seat, bowed and moved away, much to 
 Elinor's relief. 
 
 "Where did yer run into young Kurt? 
 Seems to be badly stuck on himself." 
 Mr. Galton blew a, cloud of cigar smoke 
 into her face as he asked the question. 
 
 Elinor disliked cigar smoke, but she 
 smiled ingratiatingly. She must manage
 
 ELINOR COLHOUSE 45 
 
 him so that he didn't say anything to the 
 detriment of her father in front of Kurt. 
 
 "He's English, so English, you know." 
 She mimicked the tag of the day playfully. 
 
 "That is so, and he's full of money. 
 Theophilus Kurt's in the Alger firm and I 
 guess this young dude's got a big interest 
 in their deals. Anyway the baron thinks 
 a lot of his president; lets him run the 
 show his own way." 
 
 Elinor was meditating this information 
 when Mrs. Galton, whose eyes had been 
 fixed on her while her husband spoke, re- 
 marked: "Perhaps Miss Colhouse knows 
 more about the Kurts than yew do, 
 James. Do yew know Mrs. Kurt, Miss 
 Colhouse?" 
 
 "No, Mrs. Galton. I only met Mr. 
 Richard Kurt here this summer after his 
 aunt had gone to England." 
 
 The lady glanced meaningly at her 
 husband and Elinor, disposed at this criti- 
 cal stage to be apprehensive, wondered 
 what the glance implied. The diamonds 
 might provide an opportunity to pro- 
 pitiate. 
 
 "What lovely jewels you have, Mrs. 
 Galton." 
 
 The older woman lovingly fingered the
 
 46 ELINOR COLHOUSE 
 
 ornament on her breast and, looking at 
 Elinor's array of poor little pins affixed as 
 was the fashion to her bodice, answered: 
 
 "They're all presents from Mr. Galton, 
 Miss Colhouse." 
 
 Was that bedizened hag insinuating 
 something? 
 
 "I took that for granted, Mrs. Galton," 
 she said, smiling at the president with de- 
 liberate intent to charm. Even at the 
 sacrifice of her own interests she could not 
 resist the joy of an immediate score. On 
 this occasion she succeeded so well that 
 the glittering lady rose, tossing her head, 
 and walked off. 
 
 Mr. Galton manifested exuberant de- 
 light. "You got the old woman there; 
 you're a pert chick. Say" he put his 
 mouth very close to Elinor's ear "what 
 about that English dudq?" He drew 
 back somewhat and waited for her answer. 
 
 "I don't think I quite understand." 
 She meant her reply to show that she was 
 taking his question in good part but she 
 put an extra refinement into her tone. 
 
 "Anyone can see he's stuck on you. If 
 I put in a word or two, will yew keep a 
 little corner of your heart for me?"
 
 ELINOR COLHOUSE 47 
 
 "Why, what would you do with it, Mr. 
 Galton?" 
 
 His small blue eyes seemed to look her 
 through. "I guess your old dad would be 
 mighty pleased. He's pretty down on his 
 luck, ain't he?" 
 
 She must appeal to his pity. "It's very 
 hard on my mother and me, Mr. Galton. 
 Sometimes I wonder what will happen to 
 us." She spoke very sadly. "Of course, 
 Mr. Kurt doesn't know all this." 
 
 "Why should he ? You jest marry him 
 and you'll be O. K. And if I ken do any- 
 thing any time, why, let me know." He 
 pulled a big pocket-book stuffed with hun- 
 dred-dollar bills out of his pocket and ex- 
 tracted a square card upon which were 
 engraved in large letters: 
 
 JAMES W. GALTON, 
 President 
 
 CCC. & O. & Associated Railroads, 
 
 Cleveland. 
 
 "Our home's on Euclid but you write 
 to the office and mark it 'Private.' You 
 never ken tell " 
 
 In the distance Richard Kurt was hover- 
 ing uncertainly. The railroad president
 
 48 ELINOR COLHOUSE 
 
 stalked across the hall and placed his hand 
 on the young Englishman's shoulders, 
 talking as he had done to her, close to his 
 ear. 
 
 Some minutes later, Kurt, blowing 
 through his lips as though he wanted to 
 blow away a disagreeable memory, threw 
 himself into the chair beside her. "What 
 a man ! He told me your father was a 
 great friend of his." His tone implied 
 that he couldn't believe it. 
 
 She was rather puzzled as to what to 
 say. 
 
 "My father, being a doctor, knows all 
 sorts of people. He can't always pick and 
 choose his acquaintances and Mr. Galton's 
 influential. He was very nice to me and 
 told me to write to him if ever I wanted 
 a friend." 
 
 Kurt looked horrified. 
 
 "He told you that, did he? Well, all 
 
 I can say is " He didn't finish the 
 
 sentence; his expression of disgust spoke 
 for him. 
 
 On their way down to the cottage he let 
 fall a remark which she pondered later on 
 when she went to bed and it kept her 
 awake for a good time afterwards. "I can
 
 ELINOR COLHOUSE 49 
 
 tell you this. I'd do anything rather than 
 that you should fall into the hands of a 
 man like that. His friendship! I'd 
 rather you had his hate." It had not the 
 satisfactory precision of an avowal but 
 it was the nearest thing to it. The 
 question now was how far she could 
 push her advantage. Should she or 
 should she not make further use of Mr. 
 Galton? 
 
 ii 
 
 The next morning Kurt did not turn up 
 but sent a note, which began without the 
 customary "Dear." Evidently he was not 
 bold enough to address her as Elinor, 
 which even in speaking he had never yet 
 done. He had once told her he invented 
 special names for people he liked, but so 
 far he had not invented a special one for 
 her. 
 
 "A line to say I shan't be coming to the 
 cottage this afternoon. I've promised to 
 play poker with some men here. But if I 
 may I'll look in after supper. R. K." 
 
 That was all and it wasn't encouraging. 
 Her first impulse was to send a cold an-
 
 50 ELINOR COLHOUSE 
 
 swer telling him not to trouble to come in 
 the evening but she thought better of it 
 and wrote instead: 
 
 "Shall expect you about nine. Hope 
 you won't lose all your money " 
 
 Mrs. Colhouse came into the room as 
 she was handing her reply to the mes- 
 senger. "He's not coming this afternoon, 
 mammy; he's playing poker." 
 
 "Is that so ? I guess they know they've 
 got a jay, poor lad." 
 
 Elinor was wearing a rather soiled dress- 
 ing-gown; her fringe was curled but not 
 combed out, and she was feeling thor- 
 oughly irritable. She threw the note into 
 the fireplace angrily and snapped out: 
 
 "That's about as much as you care. 
 You think more about him than you do 
 of me. I hope they'll darned well skin 
 him. He deserves " 
 
 A loud knock interrupted her. It was 
 repeated peremptorily. 
 
 "Get back to the kitchen and tell that 
 good-for-nothing slut to open the door. I 
 believe it's a visitor." 
 
 Elinor had hardly dashed out of the 
 room and up the stairs when she heard the
 
 ELINOR COLHOUSE 51 
 
 heavy footsteps of the impatient arrival. 
 She stood on the landing listening. 
 
 "Guess I'm speaking to Mrs. Colhouse. 
 Glad to make your acquaintance. My 
 name's James W. Galton, President of the 
 Three C's. & O. Met your daughter last 
 evening. She's a mighty pretty girl." 
 
 Elinor felt mad. There was her 
 mother in that old alpaca blouse and an 
 apron, and her hair all anyhow. She hur- 
 riedly combed out her fringe and threw on 
 the dainty blue neglige to which her 
 mother had, by her direction, put the 
 finishing touches while she was at the hotel 
 the evening before. Of course she found 
 him sitting in the broken chair; equally of 
 course, her mother was standing in front 
 of him like a servant. "You've taken 
 us by surprise, Mr. Galton," she said, in 
 her best manner and with her most highly 
 polished accent. 
 
 "Thought I'd come without making any 
 shakes about it, seeing I know the old 
 man." 
 
 Mrs. Colhouse looked startled, and at 
 a sign from her daughter subsided into a 
 chair, on the edge of which she sat stiffly, 
 looking first at Elinor then at the visitor. 
 
 "Now I want you to look upon me as a
 
 52 ELINOR COLHOUSE 
 
 friend of the family. I've got a proposal 
 to make. I've got to git off to-morrow to 
 Detroit. What do you say to coming in 
 the cyar and bringing that young English 
 feller with you? Yew can stay a day or 
 two there. There's fine stores" he 
 looked Elinor up and down admiringly 
 "and I'll see you have passes and sleepers 
 back. What do you say?" He ad- 
 dressed himself to Mrs. Colhouse, whose 
 face showed more and more surprise as 
 she realised that his invitation included 
 her. 
 
 "Thank you, Mr. Galton, but I couldn't 
 go. Thank you very much." She looked 
 at her daughter with a frightened expres- 
 sion. 
 
 Elinor was thinking quickly. What 
 was his object? It couldn't be disinter- 
 ested kindness. What ought she to do? 
 Kurt would certainly not go and if she 
 went without him she knew she would 
 never see him again. And what use was 
 Galton in comparison with the other? 
 
 "I'm afraid it's impossible, Mr. Galton. 
 My mother couldn't come, and of course I 
 couldn't go without her." 
 
 He glanced at her doubtingly. "It's as
 
 ELINOR COLHOUSE 53 
 
 you like," he said. "Folk sometimes like 
 a trip, and I hoped your mother would 
 come as I know the doctor." 
 
 He got up and offered his hand to Mrs. 
 Colhouse. 
 
 "Glad to have made your acquaintance, 
 ma'm. If there's anything I can do for 
 you at any time, yew let me know. I've 
 given my address to your daughter. 
 Good-bye, Miss Colhouse, if you change 
 your mind, you've only to come along with 
 your young Englishman. We leave at 
 nine-thirty." 
 
 Without more ado he strode out of the 
 room and out of the house, slamming the 
 door behind him. 
 
 Elinor knew that her mother was ex- 
 pecting at least a comment from her on the 
 railroad president's abrupt arrival and de- 
 parture, but she was in no mood to gratify 
 her. She was feeling generally sore with- 
 out exactly knowing why, except that 
 everything was going wrong through no 
 fault of hers. 
 
 Mrs. Colhouse sighed deeply and moved 
 slowly to the dining-table end of the room. 
 
 That was mammy all over, off to act the
 
 54 ELINOR COLHOUSE 
 
 martyr in the kitchen as usual, a sickening 
 habit. Elinor called her back. 
 
 "Can't you wait a moment? You act 
 as though you couldn't keep out of that 
 kitchen." 
 
 Mrs. Colhouse felt for the black ribbon 
 under the collar of her blouse and pulled a 
 watch out of her bodice. 
 
 Elinor watched her resentfully. "You 
 can spare yourself trying to tell me the 
 time without your spectacles. I know 
 you're going to say you must get dinner 
 ready. It so happens that there's cold 
 meat and baked potatoes, so you don't 
 have to." 
 
 Her mother did not reply but sighed 
 again and returned the watch. 
 
 "Mammy " Elinor intended her 
 
 mother to know that she was exercising 
 great self-restraint "how many times have 
 I told you not to go to the door looking 
 like that?" 
 
 "What was I to do? I hadn't time to 
 think, and the help was upstairs sweeping. 
 Besides he walked in anyway." 
 
 "Yes, and if you'd have done as I've 
 told you times over, you'd have been out 
 of the road. But what's the use of my 
 trying to make a decent appearance?"
 
 ELINOR COLHOUSE 55 
 
 Elinor's despairing gesture elicited 
 another sigh. 
 
 "I believe the best thing I can do is to 
 go to Detroit with Galton." She hadn't 
 the slightest intention of doing so; she was 
 only trying to goad her mother into an ex- 
 pression of disapproval. But she failed. 
 
 "After your New York doings, I don't 
 think it much matters what you do." 
 
 "New York doings. What d'you 
 mean?" 
 
 Mrs. Colhouse drew in her breath in- 
 stead of sighing and closed her mouth 
 firmly. 
 
 Elinor intended to have it out. "I in- 
 sist on your telling me. Who's been gas- 
 sing about my business? Of course I 
 know. Felton. Pshaw!" She gave 
 vent to a bitter half laugh. "He's a fine 
 one to talk against me." She threw her- 
 self angrily back in her chair. 
 
 "Did I ever say it was Felton Crane?" 
 Mrs. Colhouse asked in an irritatingly 
 even voice. 
 
 "You know he's crazy with jealousy, 
 he'd say anything. What did he say 
 anyway? I'tm (determined to know, 
 and you can't fool me. It's him right 
 enough."
 
 56 ELINOR COLHOUSE 
 
 "I'm not going to say anything more, 
 Nell, I had enough of it last time." 
 
 "You hadn't any business to talk to him 
 then and you've less now. What right 
 has he got sticking his nose into my 
 affairs?" 
 
 "Have you treated him fair, Nell? 
 Why don't you break it off with him? 
 You don't want him, do you? He's no 
 good anyway." 
 
 Elinor changed her tactics suddenly. 
 
 "What right have you got to say he's 
 no good? He's a darned sight better 
 than nothing." 
 
 Her mother looked bewildered. 
 
 "What d'you mean anyhow? If you 
 want him, why don't you marry him?" 
 
 "You know perfectly well Felton hasn't 
 a cent. And, besides, I don't mean to 
 live in Waterville for the rest of my life; 
 I'd rather be dead nor in America either 
 unless it's New York." 
 
 "I thought " Mrs. Colhouse this 
 
 time spoke with a certain emphasis "you'd 
 done with New York but as you've never 
 told me anything " 
 
 "What do you want me to tellj? You 
 know Hilyard can't marry me yet. I've 
 told you that and I'm not waiting on him.
 
 ELINOR COLHOUSE 57 
 
 It's Richard Kurt I'm thinking about." 
 
 "But he hasn't even come to-day. 
 You can see that boy's not thinking of 
 marrying." 
 
 For an instant Elinor faltered, but she 
 put confidence into her tone as she an- 
 swered: "That's what you think. He's 
 coming here this evening after supper. I 
 want you to tell him about the president's 
 asking me to go to Detroit." 
 
 "What good will that do?" 
 
 "Mammy! Can't you see Mr. Gal- 
 ton's crazy to get hold of me? He only 
 asked Kurt because he thinks he's a young 
 sucker. You tell him that." 
 
 The look of resignation returned to 
 Mrs. Colhouse's face. 
 
 "I'll tell him, and if ever you marry him 
 you'll be mighty lucky, I reckon." 
 
 iii 
 
 Elinor was well aware of the power of 
 dress to enhance an appearance and she 
 knew that no woman could make better 
 use of it than she. In spite of Kurt's 
 apparent indifference to her best effects, 
 she simply couldn't believe that he was as 
 unappreciative as he seemed to be. As 
 likely as not it was only part of his shy-
 
 5& ELINOR COLHOUSE 
 
 ness, or it might very well be that in Eng- 
 land it was not considered good style to 
 make flattering personal remarks. 
 
 She had decided that on this occasion 
 she was going to look pale and sad. She 
 therefore used with discrimination the 
 liquid powder, avoided lipsalve and 
 selected a loose-fitting teagown of black 
 crepe de Chine which, if properly sup- 
 ported by the complexion and the coiffure, 
 would lend her that air of wan dignity she 
 had so often admired on the stage. And 
 after all, was not life a stage and were we 
 not all players? 
 
 Thinking thus, looking at her dress as 
 it lay on the bed and bearing in mind that 
 it might fall open while she reclined, as 
 she had decided, on the sofa, she selected 
 a diaphanous golden-coloured petticoat; 
 she would wear no corset, only her gossa- 
 mer chemise beneath. She had arranged 
 the little sitting-room carefully before go- 
 ing up to dress, had moved the sofa 
 against the wall with the green-shaded 
 lamp casting its effulgence upon the middle 
 and end of it but throwing a subdued and 
 agreeably melodramatic light upon the 
 part where her head would lie. She had 
 placed the better of the two arm-chairs
 
 ELINOR COLHOUSE 59 
 
 beside it with its back to the green lamp, 
 and had told her mother to sit in the 
 broken-springed one on the other side of 
 the fireplace. She had also brought out 
 two special cushions, a black and gold and 
 a crimson one, to place under her head 
 and behind her back. The only other 
 light was in the corner beside the door 
 which would enable her to be seen as she 
 came in but the high part of the sofa and 
 the pillow would screen her head from it 
 when she reclined. 
 
 She did not hurry over her dressing, 
 leaving the finishing touches till he entered 
 the house; this was just as well, for it was 
 nearly half-past nine when she heard foot- 
 steps outside. She had even begun to feel 
 anxious and was relieved when his voice 
 confirmed his arrival. Her entry threat- 
 ened to be a failure for so deeply inter- 
 ested did he seem to be in something her 
 mother was saying that she had to stand 
 some seconds in the doorway before he 
 came towards her. Facing the light as 
 he was she noticed that his hair was less 
 smooth than usual and that he was flushed; 
 his manner, too, was excited and wasn't 
 he a trifle unsteady on his feet? Elinor 
 was something of an expert in detecting
 
 60 ELINOR COLHOUSE 
 
 such signs from a considerable experience 
 of Dr. Colhouse. As she sank languidly 
 back on her cushions his face showed 
 concern. 
 
 "I hope you aren't ill?" he asked. 
 
 "Only one of my nervous headaches, 
 Jon't pay any attention to that. How did 
 you come out from your game?" 
 
 "Never mind about that rotten game. 
 
 Your mother's been telling me " he 
 
 looked round, evidently intending Mrs. 
 Colhouse to hear, but she had noiselessly 
 left the room, "about that damned Gal- 
 ton." He spoke furiously. 
 
 This anger was exactly what she 
 wanted. She put one arm beside her head 
 and rested her lovely face on it, and with 
 the other hand touched his arm lightly and 
 
 soothingly. "Don't be so cross " 
 
 and then, very softly, "dear." 
 
 He jumped up with an excited flourish 
 of his hand. "Cross! Don't you see 
 what that blackguard is after ? He thinks 
 I'm an utter fool he can humbug as he 
 pleases. What he wants is to is to " 
 
 She knew that he was unable to express 
 with appropriate respect for her the presi- 
 dent's evil designs. She closed her eyes 
 an instant. "I'm not in a very happy posi-
 
 ELINOR COLHOUSE 6 1 
 
 tion with no father to protect me; and 
 mamma's so unsuspecting. Do you really 
 think a man of Mr. Gallon's age and posi- 
 tion would " 
 
 "That scoundrel would do anything. 
 He thinks because he's rich and he's got 
 a rotten private car that he can do what 
 he pleases. I know the sort of man he is ! 
 
 You don't. How should you? I say " 
 
 he came over and stood looking down 
 at her "promise me you'll have nothing to 
 do with him. He's sure to try every 
 dodge and I may not even know " 
 
 She put her hand on his arm and pressed 
 it. "Sit down, Richard. May I call you 
 that?" 
 
 He seized her hand and pressed it be- 
 tween both of his. "May you? I love 
 it." He raised her hand to his lips, hold- 
 ing it there. 
 
 She could feel the heat of his lips, an 
 unnatural heat and as he just breathed a 
 kiss upon her fingers she withdrew them 
 slowly, touching his face as she did so. 
 It was very hot. His eyes travelled down 
 her figure, rose to her face again; they 
 were very bright; the light from the 
 corner of the door shone full on his face, 
 he was breathing hard. Neither said a
 
 62 ELINOR COLHOUSE 
 
 word, only looked into each other's eyes. 
 Her breast rose and fell without her voli- 
 tion. It was a tense moment but she must 
 preserve her detachment; that was vital. 
 Suddenly he bent down and kissed her on 
 the cheek. 
 
 "Richard! Richard!" 
 
 He drew back; she knew he was half 
 frightened at his act. 
 
 "Please forgive me, Elinor." Again 
 he seized her hand, kissing it and murmur- 
 ing: "I couldn't help it, I really couldn't. 
 You look so lovely and you're so defence- 
 less and the thought of that black- 
 guard " 
 
 Elinor played a trump. She drew her 
 hand away from his mouth and taking 
 one of his, kissed it and held it to her 
 breast. But he pulled it away, saying: 
 "How can you kiss my hand? It's yours, 
 
 it's yours I must kiss " and brought 
 
 hers passionately to his lips again. She 
 half rose and with the other arm encircled 
 his neck, and as she fell back she bore him 
 with her, down and down. He buried 
 his face in her breast, fell forward from 
 his chair, his knee against the sofa, and 
 ever she held his neck with her arm as 
 he ruffled her more with every movement. 
 His lips were upon hers now, stayed there.
 
 ELINOR COLHOUSE 63 
 
 His hand touched her breast, followed 
 her form, withdrew in fear, dared again, 
 remained. Elinor had not experienced 
 this performance unmoved and when pal- 
 pitating, unmanned, ashamed, he stood 
 away, regarding her as though she had be- 
 come his handiwork, with a seemly and 
 self-protective instinct she covered her face 
 with her hands. 
 
 "Elinor, dear Elinor " his voice 
 
 was muffled in sobbing gasps; he threw 
 himself on his knees beside her, "I love 
 you ! I love you ! You belong to me now, 
 you belong to me, don't you?" 
 
 Very slowly she removed her hands and 
 gazed softly at him. At last, with all the 
 tenderness she could put into her tone, 
 she murmured, "Nothing matters from 
 now on. I love you, Richard." 
 
 He smothered her mouth with kisses. 
 "Darling darling darling" was the only 
 word he could find. 
 
 Now she gave herself up to him with 
 complete self-abandonment. Her black 
 crepe de Chine could go to the devil for all 
 she cared. Yes! and her Valenciennes- 
 trimmed chemise too! What did any- 
 thing matter now? He behaved desper- 
 ately for several minutes, until, in fact,
 
 64 ELINOR COLHOUSE 
 
 she was really beginning to feel the wear 
 and tear. He ceased rather suddenly, 
 and stood up, rocking a little. 
 
 Elinor was composing herself; her skill 
 enabled her to accomplish such details as 
 straightening her dress and arranging her 
 hair without the absurd and grating awk- 
 wardness which must, she knew, generally 
 be displayed on such occasions. Without 
 having had an exactly similar experience 
 previously, the episode was not entirely 
 unfamiliar. 
 
 "Dearest " he. leant over her and 
 kissed her "I'll never do it again. I feel 
 as big a beast as Galton. What can I 
 do to make up for it?" 
 
 She had put her feet to the floor but 
 still reclined against the pretty cushions 
 with an air of exhaustion; he was beside 
 her now, holding her hand between both 
 of his and looking at her anxiously. For 
 a moment thus, then, with a quick impul- 
 sive movement, she sat up straight and 
 put her other hand on the back of his 
 and with quivering earnestness in her voice 
 as she gazed intently into his eyes: "Only 
 one thing, Richard. You must tell 
 mamma at once we're engaged. I feel 
 she'll suspect something, this house is a
 
 ELINOR COLHOUSE 65 
 
 sounding board; one hears every woird." 
 She kept her eyes fixed on him, waiting 
 for his answer. It was a critical moment. 
 
 For an instant he hesitated, as though 
 he were making an effort to collect him- 
 self and to think; then he kissed her gently. 
 "Engaged! We are engaged, aren't we? 
 Of course I'll tell your mother at once. 
 When? To-morrow? But what will 
 she say? Won't she think it rather 
 sudden?" 
 
 "Mamma likes you so much she'll ac- 
 cept it at once. She may be a little sur- 
 prised at first but I know it will make her 
 happy. Come to-morrow morning. Now 
 you'd better go." She got up, holding his 
 arm. They moved out of the room to- 
 gether and he put his arms round her once 
 more. The front door was open and they 
 were in the full light of the hall lamp but 
 what did that matter now? 
 
 "Once more, darling." Again he kissed 
 her and as he went down the path she 
 saw he was trying to walk backwards to 
 see the last of her, but he was too unsteady 
 and had to give it up. 
 
 Without an instant's delay, Elinor 
 locked the door, put out the lights and ran 
 up to her mother's room. Mrs. Col-
 
 66 ELINOR COLHOUSE 
 
 house was sitting by a table with a lamp on 
 it, sewing a trimming on to one of her 
 daughter's blouses. She looked up with 
 a surprised expression as Elinor entered 
 and bestowed a resounding kiss on her 
 mother's cheek. 
 
 "He's asked me to marry him, mammy, 
 and he's going to announce our engage- 
 ment to you to-morrow." 
 
 Mrs. Colhouse put down her work and 
 took off her spectacles. "It's going to be 
 marriage this time then?" 
 
 Elinor was in too exalted a state to let 
 anything annoy her. "It certainly is, and 
 what's more, but never mind." She had 
 been about to add: "I intend to marry him 
 the very first moment I can," but she 
 wasn't taking any chances; her mother 
 might blurt it out to him and that was 
 the last thing she wanted. 
 
 "There's many a slip, Nell. And what 
 will his mother say?" 
 
 Elinor smiled. "If his mother don't 
 like it, she'll have to lump it. It's her 
 funeral, not mine." 
 
 iv 
 
 Elinor was under no illusions regarding 
 her hold on Richard, but she was deter-
 
 ELINOR COLHOUSE 67 
 
 mined to lose no sleep over it and to 
 husband her physical as well as her moral 
 resources. When, on awaking to con- 
 sciousness after eight good hours of re- 
 freshing and invigorating sleep, she slipped 
 out of bed and into the faded blue dress- 
 ing-gown, that old and trusty friend re- 
 minded her rather unkindly of other morn- 
 ings disappointing in the fulfilment of over- 
 night pledges. But she kept a confident 
 countenance to her mother, who scruti- 
 nised her closely as they sat in the kitchen 
 taking their morning coffee, and in spite 
 of inward twitchings, Elinor put away a 
 good round of griddle cakes and maple 
 syrup, bestowing praise on her mother as 
 she did so. 
 
 "Nobody's cakes are like yours, 
 mammy." 
 
 Mrs. Colhouse accepted the compliment 
 joylessly. "What I want to know is what 
 you want for dinner." 
 
 "Lunch, you mean. Grilled chicken, 
 green peas and little new sweet potatoes. 
 I've got some bars of Caillard's chocolate, 
 and if that creature will get the cream I'll 
 make a souffle" 
 
 Then she went into the other room and 
 settled down in the rocking-chair to think.
 
 68 ELINOR COLHOUSE 
 
 No one knew better what morning reac- 
 tions could mean. She pictured Richard 
 Kurt walking in his room at the hotel and 
 asking himself what he had really done 
 and said the previous evening. She knew 
 but too well the slenderness of the thread 
 by which she held him. Would the thread 
 hold? Would he come that morning and 
 tell her mother? How far would he be- 
 lieve he was committed? This separation 
 was dangerous; one never knew what a 
 man would do once he was out of your 
 sight. But he wasn't a man, and he was 
 English with English ideas about the help- 
 lessness of girls and honour. He'd gone 
 pretty far, his passion had got hold of him, 
 he was wild for her last night. Even 
 after he had told mammy she wouldn't 
 have got him until they were safely 
 married. But what mattered was that he 
 should come now. 
 
 With knit brows and thoughtful mien 
 Elinor went up to her room to dress. 
 This morning she meant to be fresh and 
 flower-like. She came to the conclusion 
 that she could not do better than wear 
 the blue dimity, but she selected a different 
 sash and she did her hair like Mrs. Lang- 
 try with a coil in the nape of the neck.
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 IT was a glorious day. Water and sky 
 were blue as they sat under an awning, 
 steaming up the Straights. Elinor was 
 charmingly dressed in a tailor suit and a 
 neat toque; he wore a well-cut blue serge 
 suit and a blue tie with white spots : their 
 small valises lay beside them. Everybody 
 looked at them admiringly, so far all had 
 gone well. 
 
 The trip was Elinor's arrangement. 
 They were to join her friends the O'Haras 
 at a place called St. Mary's at the head of 
 the Straits and spend a couple of days 
 there. It was to be a little junket before 
 he returned, as return he must, to his 
 work, which seemed to be much on his 
 mind now they were engaged. Dennis 
 O'Hara was a journalist and had married 
 Elinor's only intimate friend, Julia Ben- 
 dixon. She didn't tell her everything, but 
 she told her as much as she wanted to tell, 
 and in her own way.
 
 70 ELINOR COLHOUSE 
 
 Richard had been difficult at first, had 
 asked for some unnecessary explanations 
 and had shown needless concern about her 
 being adequately chaperoned. He had 
 also been apprehensive as to what Mrs. 
 Colhouse would think of their going off 
 for two or three days in this unexpected 
 way. It had been agreed that the engage- 
 ment must be kept secret until Uncle Theo 
 came back in September. He had always 
 got on with Uncle Theo, and Aunt Kate 
 was American. If he wrote to his father 
 or mother they wouldn't understand and 
 she couldn't imagine how angry they 
 would be. That couldn't be thought of, 
 but when Uncle Theo and Aunt Katie saw 
 how sweet and charming and pretty she 
 was, they'd write to his parents and put it 
 all right. Meanwhile, he'd go back to 
 Cliftonburg and work for her sake. 
 
 Elinor had let him talk but she kept her 
 own counsel. The trip up the Straits was 
 indispensable but it had not been easy to 
 bring about. As late as the previous eve- 
 ning he had spoken seriously to her mother 
 about their engagement and told her that 
 he ought to go back to Cliftonburg at once. 
 Even that very morning when he arrived 
 at the cottage with his bag to take her to
 
 ELINOR COLHOUSE 71 
 
 the boat, he had expressed his doubts 
 again. "Really, do you think it's wise to 
 go for this trip? I've a sort of feeling 
 against it." 
 
 But here they were, safely on the boat, 
 and for the moment at least he was in high 
 spirits. His moods changed suddenly. 
 At moments a preoccupied look came into 
 his face and if she spoke to him, he started 
 and replied absently, even coldly. She did 
 not attempt to analyse her feelings 
 towards him; his manner, his appearance, 
 his voice were factors just as much as the 
 material advantages she was certain to 
 obtain if she married him. She was 
 shocked, though, at his off-hand, familiar 
 way of treating inferiors. He spoke jest- 
 ingly to the purser and even chaffed the 
 coloured stewards in the dining-saloon so 
 that they grinned all over their faces when- 
 ever he spoke to them. While he was 
 thus carrying on, she ruminated. She 
 would have to talk to him seriously before 
 they got to St. Mary's. How was she to 
 begin? The one thing quite defined in 
 her mind was that they must be married 
 at once. She could count on the assistance 
 of the O'Haras. Dennis was as cute as 
 they make them, but she would infinitely
 
 72 ELINOR COLHOUSE 
 
 prefer to run the show herself. Going up 
 on deck, after the meal, she made some 
 allusion to his behaviour at table, showing 
 him she did not like it. He began by 
 laughing it off but his face became grave 
 when she said that it cheapened her. 
 What did he think they would take her 
 for)? And he answered: "I'm awfully 
 sorry if it annoyed you, dear. I get a sort 
 of reckless mood sometimes. You see, 
 all this has been rather exciting, hasn't 
 it?" 
 
 "I don't see why that should make you 
 give a Barnum show." 
 
 He looked away from her into the dis- 
 tance and lighted a cigarette, threw the 
 match over the side. "Oh, it's an in for 
 a penny, in for a pound feeling. Perhaps 
 you can't understand what I mean. You 
 see, you haven't known me long." He 
 seemed to be waiting for her to say some- 
 thing. 
 
 It might be a moment for sweetness, 
 but she couldn't summon it. He ought to 
 show more consideration for her. 
 
 "When a girl has given her life into a 
 man's hands " her face became ear- 
 nest, her voice trembled "when she has 
 given him all she has to give, she can't
 
 ELINOR COLHOUSE 73 
 
 help caring about every word he says, 
 everything he does." 
 
 As she said the words his expression 
 changed. He threw away his cigarette 
 and, taking her gloved hand, held it be- 
 tween both of his browned ones. 
 
 "My dear little girl, I am so sorry. I 
 had no intention on earth I had no idea 
 I was hurting you. What can I do? 
 Tell me, what can I do?" 
 
 Elinor sighed and looked beyond him. 
 The dark lashes drooped over her large 
 brown eyes, which slowly filled with tears. 
 His words had touched her, for indeed she 
 was at his mercy, at the mercy of the world 
 beautiful but alone. She drew a tiny 
 perfumed handkerchief edged with Valen- 
 ciennes from her pocket and passed it 
 across her eyes. He continued to press 
 her hand, begged her to forgive him, to 
 tell him what he could do to comfort her. 
 
 "You are a man, Richard. You can't 
 understand what a girl feels at a time like 
 this when everything, her whole life 
 depends upon one man. What is to be- 
 come of me if if " 
 
 "Dear little girl darling if what if 
 what?" His utterance was spasmodic; he 
 was certainly moved.
 
 74 ELINOR COL HOUSE 
 
 "Rlichard dear, supposing you go off 
 and leave me now. Supposing, for one 
 reason or another, for your mother's sake 
 or because you think it wiser with the 
 best intentions supposing you go off to 
 England. Supposing I never see you 
 again after we get back to Manitou. You 
 leave me there with poor old mammy and 
 you go. What could I do ? What would 
 become of me?" 
 
 "Elinor ! My darling ! I should be an 
 utter blackguard to do such a thing, 
 surely you can't imagine it. We're en- 
 gaged nothing could make me go back 
 on that. Besides I love you. I want 
 you for my own wife." He looked 
 round; a burly negro was coiling a rope 
 a few feet away. "I wish I could kiss 
 you, darling," and he pressed her hand 
 hard between his. 
 
 Elinor sighed again softly but deeply, 
 she could not be comforted. Again she 
 looked away into the distance under the 
 deep lashes; again the far-away, sad look 
 came into the deep brown eyes. And he 
 sat mutely watching her. 
 
 "Ah, Richard dear. Life is so hard for 
 
 a girl who is alone. If only if " 
 
 She pressed his hand. He must see she
 
 ELINOR COLHOUSE 7$ 
 
 was too much under the influence of emo- 
 tion to go on. 
 
 "Yes? Yes?" 
 
 She made an effort, swallowed the sob 
 in her throat, mastered herself. "If I be- 
 longed to you legally as as" she looked 
 round. The negro, seeing there was no 
 fun to be got out of watching them, had 
 disappeared "as I do the other way, and if 
 we could only be married, I wouldn't mind 
 anything. I'd wait years if necessary." 
 She had been supporting her head with 
 her elbow on the taffrail as she gazed 
 sadly into the lake but she turned suddenly 
 towards him and placed both hands in 
 his. "Richard, can't we get married 
 now at once? Will you, Richard?" 
 She looked intently into his face. His 
 eyes were averted. A moment passed. 
 
 "Elinor dear, I want to do everything 
 you wish. But if I marry you without my 
 parents' consent, the governor will cut me 
 off. We can't live on nothing, can we?" 
 
 "But they needn't know. We'll keep it 
 secret from everyone but mamma. I 
 should have to tell her after after 
 what has taken place." 
 
 He relaxed his hold on her hand and 
 she withdrew it as he moved uneasily in
 
 76 ELINOR COLHOUSE 
 
 his chair. "But, Elinor, I couldn't marry 
 without at least seeing my people and 
 explaining." 
 
 There was a ring of horror in her voice 
 as she answered: "Then you do mean to 
 go to England before we're married. Oh, 
 
 Richard, Richard " She buried her 
 
 face in her hands. 
 
 Greatly distressed, he tried to comfort 
 her. "What can I do? What can I 
 do?" 
 
 "How can can you ask?" She man- 
 aged to bring the words out between her 
 shaking sobs. 
 
 There ensued a longish pause, punctu- 
 ated by the sound of her weeping, which 
 she kept within close audibility. 
 
 At last he spoke. "Elinor, dear Elinor, 
 it shall be as you wish, but " 
 
 She continued to sob; her whole body 
 was quivering. 
 
 "But," he went on, "if it comes out, if 
 the governor hears of it, if he disowns me, 
 you mustn't blame me. If you're ready 
 to take the rough with the smooth and 
 chance it, I am. Now" he put his hand 
 gently on her shoulder "now, darling, do 
 stop crying." 
 
 With a great effort, she stifled her sobs,
 
 ELINOR COLHOUSE 77 
 
 raised her head, whispered "Dearest 
 Richard, thank you, thank you, thank you" 
 and turning her back to him and the 
 boat, she put her toque straight. 
 
 The O'Haras were awaiting them on 
 the landing-stage with expectant curiosity; 
 in fact Dennis stared at Richard as though 
 his globular blue eyes were about to pop 
 out of his head. Elinor had never re- 
 alised how badly he dressed; his hard felt 
 hat was the wrong shape; and his waist- 
 coat, cut much too low, displayed an un- 
 becoming amount of decorative shirt front. 
 She glanced at Richard with apprehension; 
 the impression made on him by Dennis at 
 this juncture might be of importance. He 
 did not, however, seem to notice these de- 
 fects, and when, after reciprocal introduc- 
 tions, Julia took her arm and they walked 
 on to the hotel, which was within a hun- 
 dred yards or so of the quay, the two 
 men appeared to "cotton" to each other. 
 To Julia's "Say, Nell, you have been 
 smart," Elinor replied by a warning look 
 and a whispered "This isn't the time to 
 gas, Juley." Juley responded with an 
 understanding wink and Elinor, turning
 
 78 ELINOR COLHOUSE 
 
 round, made a remark to Richard in 
 order to bring the two men level with them 
 so that they could all walk together. She 
 had no confidence in Dennis's discretion, 
 and he might ask undesirable questions or 
 make unsuitable remarks. 
 
 Richard luckily refused Dennis's invita- 
 tion to a cocktail and went to his room 
 while Elinor was! accompanied to hers by 
 Julia, who, as the door closed behind them, 
 exclaimed: "My dear, I didn't know what 
 to do about the rooms." 
 
 Elinor laid her toque carefully on the 
 bed, which was a double one, and with an 
 expression of shocked surprise asked her 
 what she meant. 
 
 "How was I to guess, Nell? But any- 
 way, is it going right?" There was a 
 certain anxiety in her voice. 
 
 Elinor had already taken a hand mirror 
 and some other small objects from the top 
 of her valise and laid them on the toilet 
 table and was taking a side view of herself. 
 She put the mirror down and turned round 
 to her little eager friend, whose head only 
 reached to her shoulder. "We're going 
 to be married at once, Juley, and you and 
 Dennis must help me. Will you?" 
 
 "Will we? You bet we will. But tell
 
 ELINORCOLHOUSE 79 
 
 me quick, quick, what you want us to do." 
 
 Elinor put her hand to her forehead 
 and thought a moment. "Could you get 
 hold of Dennis?" she asked. 
 
 "Now, you mean, before we've talked?" 
 Julia's tone was disappointed. 
 
 "Yes, dear, now. Every minute's of 
 importance. Get him. I'll explain while 
 he's coming." 
 
 "He's in the bar, I reckon. We'll send 
 a bell boy." 
 
 Elinor opened her carefully packed 
 valise. One side of it she left strapped as 
 it was; that side was not wanted yet. 
 
 "Go on, Nell; do go on," Julia cried 
 impatiently. 
 
 Elinor undid her sponge-bag and using 
 her tooth-brush as though it were a 
 lecturer's wand, she pointed at the door. 
 "Richard Kurt, son of William Kurt of 
 London, nephew of Theophilus Kurt, 
 President of the C. W. & M. Railway sys- 
 tem. He's rich or will be his father is 
 and he's in the best society. I don't know 
 who his mother was but she certainly be- 
 longs to the aristocracy. Without exactly 
 letting on as to what she was, he gave 
 me to understand that she's away up out 
 there. They've got a London house and
 
 8o ELINOR COLHOUSE 
 
 one in the country, horses, carriages and 
 footmen, and all London goes to their 
 
 house and " Julia was hanging on 
 
 her words breathlessly when Dennis en- 
 tered the room, grinned at them both and, 
 throwing himself on the bed, lay there 
 with his hands under his head. 
 
 Elinor waved the tooth-brush at him. 
 "Get off there with your dirty shoes." 
 
 "Dirty shoes," he repeated, bending his 
 legs back and examining first one, then 
 the other. "They're brand new patent, 
 four dollars and fifty cents second-hand 
 at Ikey Moss's in your own fashionable 
 boulevard. Yiou're a peach, Nell, a real 
 peach." He jumped off the bed, and 
 going up to Elinor, kissed her on the 
 neck. 
 
 She pulled away from him. 
 
 "Juley, do make him behave. This is 
 no time for fooling." 
 
 "No, be serious, Dennis; Nell wants 
 you to do something for her." 
 
 "Dennis." Elinor put her hand on his 
 shoulder, at which he wriggled as though 
 she were tickling him, winked and put out 
 his tongue. "Dennis," she repeated, pay- 
 ing no attention, "we want to be married 
 at once. Will you help me ?"
 
 ELINOR COLHOUSE 8'I 
 
 "That depends." The sprightly young 
 Irishman disengaged himself and put his 
 hands in his pockets. "If you want a 
 sample, I'm your lad." 
 
 "Sample, what does he mean?" Elinor 
 asked Julia despairingly. 
 
 "I mean, if you want to take a chance 
 
 with me first " he looked meaningly at 
 
 the bed. 
 
 "Oh, dry up, Dennis, can't you see she's 
 in earnest?" Juley's tone made an im- 
 pression; his face changed and he waited. 
 
 "Dennis, will you go, now before sup- 
 per and find out where we can get 
 married to-morrow and what's got to be 
 done ? In fact, will you play brother and 
 see me through?" 
 
 Elinor again put her hand on his 
 shoulder, her voice was full of emotion. 
 She was in earnest now; his help might 
 be indispensable and she put all the dra- 
 matic quality she could command into her 
 expression. For a second the Irishman 
 looked at her admiringly without speak- 
 ing. Of a sudden he threw his arms 
 round her and, placing his hands below the 
 small of her back, pressed her close to him, 
 released her and seized his hat. "I will," 
 he said, and bolted out of the
 
 82 ELINOR COLHOUSE 
 
 room. Elinor turned sharply to her 
 friend. 
 
 "Watch him out," she exclaimed; "see 
 he don't meet Kurt quick." 
 
 The little woman swiftly followed her 
 husband down the passage and Elinor 
 went on with her toilet. 
 
 She found Richard downstairs waiting 
 for her. She noticed that, like herself, he 
 had the knack of making a new appearance 
 by the substitution of one or two details 
 of dress for others. Some people did not 
 attach importance to such matters; she 
 did. 
 
 "I like that Irish chap, he's an awfully 
 good sort." 
 
 "Yes, they are real friends of mine. 
 What I like about them is their loyalty; 
 they'd do anything for me." 
 
 "She is tiny, isn't she? She's got a 
 funny little face, almost ugly, but she's so 
 sharp that it doesn't matter." 
 
 As he spoke Dennis and Julie appeared 
 in the distance, the former waving a paper. 
 Luckily Richard had his back to them, and 
 Elinor, interposing herself skilfully, seized 
 it from his hand. 
 
 "Not a word now, Den," she whispered, 
 holding her finger to her mouth.
 
 ELINOR COLHOUSE 83 
 
 The Irishman threw himself into a 
 chair beside Richard. "I've got a thirst 
 I wouldn't sell. By St. Patrick, what I've 
 done this evening's worth a bottle of 
 wine." To which hint Richard responded 
 by ordering a bottle of champagne to be 
 put on ice as soon as they took their seats 
 at the supper-table. 
 
 Pleased though Elinor was at Richard's 
 ready liberality, she glanced apprehen- 
 sively at Julia. If Dennis's tongue be- 
 came much looser he might utter some 
 indiscretion that would wreck everything 
 even at this eleventh hour. It was 
 nervous work getting through the meal; 
 she had to listen to every word, be con- 
 stantly alert, ready at the first sign of 
 danger to take whatever measure was 
 necessary. There were moments of men- 
 ace. When Dennis lifted his glass and 
 drank "success to crime including the 
 sacrament of marriage," she shot an ap- 
 prehensive glance at Richard. He was 
 talking very little, his glass stood beside 
 his plate almost untouched. He had 
 ordered coffee and liqueurs to be 
 brought to the table, Dennis had 
 quieted down and conversation was 
 languishing. But hardly had the Irish-
 
 84 ELINOR COLHOUSE 
 
 man tossed off his glass of brandy 
 than he leant across the table and 
 seizing Richard's, swallowed that as well. 
 Banging down the empty glass with such 
 force as to smash the base of it, he pointed 
 his finger at Richard and remarked: "Not 
 to-night, my lad. Brandy is a highly ex- 
 citing stimulant suitable at this time of 
 night for married men only" with a huge 
 wink at Elinor, "you might get loose and 
 do some damage before the curtain goes 
 up, and I'm here to see all's square till the 
 knot's tied to-morrow. Isn't that so, 
 Nell?" 
 
 There was an awkward pause. Elinor's 
 eyes were on Richard, what could he think 
 now? Could his innocence survive the 
 shock of this last performance? She 
 cursed herself for bringing Dennis into 
 her counsels, she had been crazy to do it. 
 And yet from Richard's appearance he 
 might even not have heard. There was 
 only one thing to do. Signing to him, 
 she rose from the table and they walked 
 out of the room together. 
 
 iii 
 
 "I am so sorry Dennis behaved like 
 that," she laid her hand on his arm; they
 
 ELINOR COLHOUSE 8 <J 
 
 were standing near the entrance to the 
 hotel, the door open to the evening air. 
 
 "I really didn't catch what he said, I 
 was rather absent-minded at supper, I'm 
 afraid. I've been thinking, there's some- 
 thing I must say to you; let's go out into 
 the fresh air." 
 
 Fear laid its cold hand on Elinor's 
 heart. His voice sounded distant, as she 
 had not yet heard it. What was he going 
 to say? Whatever it was, his mind was 
 made up. She knew that intuitively, the 
 boyish look had died out of his face, his 
 mouth was tightly closed. Yes, his mind 
 was made up, she would never be able to 
 change it now. But to what? Some- 
 where between her breast and her stomach 
 she felt a spasm which was physical 
 anguish, the anguish of suspense. She 
 tried to choke the horrid sensation down. 
 
 They strolled slowly by the side of the 
 channel. Its waters raced here into 
 rapids, across which a light suspension 
 bridge swung its fragile length to the 
 Canadian shore opposite. Richard guided 
 her to it. Half-way across he stopped 
 and let her arm fall, turning as he did so 
 and gazing over the parapet at the turbu- 
 lent stream below. It was a clear moon-
 
 86 ELINOR COLHOUSE 
 
 light night and very still. His face 
 looked deadly pale, was that only the effect 
 of the moonrays? His silence, as he 
 stood there, leaning over the bridge, look- 
 ing at the water, frightened her. What 
 was he thinking? What was he going to 
 say? Suddenly he turned round again and 
 faced her. He seemed to be making an 
 effort to master himself, to fight some- 
 thing down. For yet more instants he 
 kept his eyes on her without speaking. 
 She felt herself shrinking from his eyes. 
 If only the moon weren't so bright! 
 
 "Elinor, you are going to be my wife, 
 that is settled. I have given you my 
 word, there can be no going back on it. 
 But I tell you straight, I must tell you, 
 that I know it is an awful mistake." He 
 paused. Did he expect her to speak? 
 No, for when she began to try and stam- 
 mer something, he held up his hand. "If 
 I can get someone to marry us to-morrow, 
 I shall do so. I know I'm too young to 
 marry, I'm not ready for it. I want to 
 say this to you now so that in the future, 
 if you regret it, I can never feel I didn't 
 warn you. But I'm going to do my best 
 and I shall stand by you through thick and 
 thin if you back me up. I hope all will
 
 ELINOR COLHOUSE 87 
 
 come right in the end. We shall have 
 to separate at once afterwards, of course. 
 If my people knew I had got married like 
 this without a word to them, they'd never 
 forgive me. We may have to live apart 
 for some time. I may even have to go to 
 England without you. But I'll stick to 
 you as long as you stick to me." Again 
 he paused. Ought she to speak? "That's 
 about all, I think, except I'd like to 
 marry you under the British flag." He 
 pointed to the far shore. "It's only over 
 there, and I should feel I was doing the 
 right thing if we were married in church. 
 I'm I'm not religious, you know, but it's 
 the decent thing, I've been brought up to 
 it and I don't trust the American marriage 
 laws. I mean you to be my wife properly. 
 I've finished now." 
 
 He turned round and leant over the 
 bridge again. 
 
 That helped her, the scrutiny of his 
 eyes was unbearable. While he looked at 
 her she could not think, she could not even 
 realise her immense, her overwhelming 
 relief. He was going to marry her as 
 soon as he could, of his own accord, with- 
 out her even having to press him. What 
 had made him change like that? She was
 
 88 ELINOR COLHOUSE 
 
 safe, everything was all right now, to-mor- 
 row or the next day she would be his wife, 
 Mrs. Richard Kurt, daughter-in-law of his 
 father and mother in London. She must 
 say something now, how was she to put it? 
 He turned towards her again and this time 
 he put his arm round her, and she, throw- 
 ing back her head under the moon, lifted 
 her face towards his, lifted her lovely face 
 with its perfect shaped nose, with its great 
 moist eyes under their heavy lids, with its 
 lips parted to show the glistening teeth, 
 
 with its lips parted, inviting his f 
 
 But his did not meet them. Instead he 
 bent his head and kissed her just above her 
 eyebrow, as a brother might. Had he no 
 sense of romance? She had risen to the 
 occasion so beautifully. 
 
 He offered her his arm quietly. "Now 
 I think we'd better go back as I want that 
 Irish chap to help me see to things." 
 
 Elinor brought him to a halt. 
 
 "Richard, will you do me a favour? 
 Please don't ask the O'Haras to help you. 
 Make the arrangements yourself. You 
 don't need him and I'd much rather they 
 weren't mixed up in our affairs any more 
 
 than they have to be. You see " she 
 
 noticed that he was looking curiously at
 
 ELINOR COLHOUSE 89 
 
 her, "the only point was that they were 
 here and could chaperone me. I should 
 have preferred our being alone, much pre- 
 ferred it." 
 
 "But they are great friends of yours?" 
 
 What was that odd undertone in his 
 voice? "Perhaps I've made you think 
 they're greater friends than they really 
 are." 
 
 "But you trust them, don't you?" 
 
 "Yes, I trust them, of course." How 
 was she to get out of this creditably? 
 "Richard!" she put her hand on his arm 
 and looked into his face "this surely is our 
 affair, I feel I want you to do it all, it will 
 make me happier ." 
 
 "But you'll let them come and see the 
 knot tied, won't you?" 
 
 Why did he use that expression of 
 Dennis's? Had he heard? Was he 
 deeper than she supposed? And if he 
 was, if he knew or suspected, how could 
 he be ready to marry her just the same? 
 Anyway it was settled, she had nothing to 
 fear. There was nothing to lose her self- 
 possession about. 
 
 "Yes, of course, they can come. But 
 Dennis sometimes says such such vulgar 
 things, and this evening I feel I can't bear
 
 90 ELINOR COLHOUSE 
 
 any more; it's all a great strain on me. I 
 can hardly realise even now that this may 
 be my last evening as a girl. You under- 
 stand, dear, don't you?" 
 
 He answered gently: "Yes, I under- 
 stand. Of course it shall be as you like. 
 You might tell me, though, what it is ex- 
 actly you want me to do." 
 
 Why did his eyes sometimes make her 
 feel so uncomfortable ? She withdrew her 
 own as she answered: 
 
 "I should like you to leave me with 
 Julia and go off to bed. If there's any- 
 thing Dennis can tell me about the the 
 formalities I'll send word to you. If 
 not, we can start in the morning early and 
 find out" 
 
 He listened gravely and attentively. "I 
 will do as you wish." 
 
 Once more he offered her his arm. 
 
 iv 
 
 To Elinor's disgust, as they entered the 
 hotel, Dennis was holding forth to two 
 men, who were roaring with laughter at 
 something he was telling them. As soon 
 as she and Richard came into view, all of 
 them stopped laughing and stared. Ap- 
 parently Richard had not noticed them and
 
 ELINOR COLHOUSE 91 
 
 she guided him to the opposite end of the 
 vestibule where Julia was sitting. 
 
 The little woman held up her finger. 
 "Oh, you two! I've been looking all 
 around the hotel for you." 
 
 Elinor cut her short. "Richard is tired 
 and is going to bed." 
 
 Julia gazed at him through her pince- 
 nez, with a disappointed expression. "I 
 mustn't ask any questions, must I? But 
 I do so want to know what you've decided. 
 I love my Nell, Mr. Kurt." 
 
 "We're going to be married to-morrow 
 if I can arrange it," he answered, in a low 
 tone. 
 
 "Oh, I am glad. You're a lovely 
 couple and these runaway marriages are 
 so romantic ." 
 
 Richard's expression changed. "We 
 want to be married quietly, that's all. 
 And it must be kept secret till I've had 
 time to tell my family." 
 
 Mrs. O'Hara grinned sympathetically 
 and joyously. "Of course it must. We 
 know that don't we, Nell?" 
 
 Bidding them both good-night, he 
 walked through the hall to the stairs, look- 
 ing straight before him. 
 
 The sight of O'Hara had revived
 
 92 ELINOR COLHOUSE 
 
 Elinor's anger. "I never could have 
 thought Den would have behaved so mean. 
 It's not his fault if I'm not let down. 
 Only a man as much in love as Richard 
 would put up with such talk as he gave us 
 this evening." 
 
 Julia looked distressed. "He don't 
 mean anything by it," she remarked, in a 
 soothing tone. 
 
 "Don't mean anything! He as good 
 as told my fiance I'd engaged him to rig 
 up my marriage with his disgusting ex- 
 pressions about 'seeing things square' and 
 'getting the knot tied.' ' Elinor flashed 
 her eyes at her friend, who recoiled under 
 the withering scorn of her voice. "A fat 
 lot of good he's been to me. Look at him 
 now. I'll bet he's giving us away to those 
 loathsome drummers he's tagged on to. 
 D'you realise what I've been through all 
 this time, what I'm going through now?" 
 
 Julia cast despairing eyes at her hus- 
 band. "What ken I do, Nell ?" she asked. 
 
 "Go over there and tell that blabgut of 
 a husband of yours to quit the trash he's 
 with and come upstairs with you." 
 Elinor marched furiously off and up the 
 stairs to her room. 
 
 Five minutes later there was a knock on
 
 ELINOR COLHOUSE 93 
 
 her door. Julie entered the room, fol- 
 lowed by her husband. 
 
 "Say, Nell," Dennis went forward and 
 stood in front of Elinor, "don't be so 
 mad. There's no harm done." 
 
 "No harm done! How do you know? 
 Instead of being a help, you've done all 
 you could to down me. Nice friend you 
 are." She burst into tears and little Julia 
 ran to her and put her arms round her 
 waist. 
 
 "You've acted the fool, Den, you 
 always do when you're full," she cried, 
 kissing Elinor on the neck, which was as 
 high as she could reach. 
 
 O'Hara sat down on the bed, blew his 
 nose loudly, folded his arms and stared at 
 them with a blank expression. "When 
 you two have finished, I'll begin." 
 
 Elinor continued to sob and Julia to 
 console, without noticing him. 
 
 "What have I done anyway? Nell 
 telephones she and her beau are coming 
 to St. Mary's and wants us to stay over. 
 We were going away but we waited to 
 please her. She sends me to find out how 
 she's to get married. As soon as I get 
 back with the information she behaves as 
 though she or both of us were crazy.
 
 94 ELINOR COLHOUSE 
 
 We have supper, she and her young duck 
 disappear. The next thing I'm told is 
 that I'm a doggorned fool and a blabgut 
 and that I've given the show away." 
 
 Elinor was still inconsolable and Julia 
 got her into a chair and stood beside her. 
 "Why don't you tell her what you've 
 done, Dennis, instead of sitting there 
 talking? Where's the paper?" 
 
 "How do I know she wants, it? What 
 do I know about anything?" 
 
 The words were said in a mock despair- 
 ing tone but his expression showed that 
 he wanted to put matters right. He took 
 a folded paper out of his pocket and 
 spread it out on the bed. 
 
 "Come, Nell, dear. Do, look at it," 
 Julia urged coaxingly. 
 
 Holding her handkerchief to her face, 
 Elinor moved slowly to the bed-side. It 
 was a printed form which stated that, in 
 lieu of banns, the marriage of the persons 
 named thereon, for which blank spaces 
 were provided, could be duly and legally 
 solemnised in St. Luke's Church, St. 
 Mary's, District of Algoma, by the in- 
 cumbent of that benefice, on payment of 
 seven dollars and twenty-five cents, plus a
 
 ELINOR COLHOUSE 95 
 
 five-dollar stamp for the special licence. 
 
 This was, after all, exactly the informa- 
 tion she wanted, and she could forgive 
 him now. 
 
 "He likes you, Den." She spoke a 
 little tearfully still. "He was going to 
 ask you to help him, but I had to talk it 
 over with you first. He wants to marry 
 me at the earliest possible moment." 
 
 Dennis jumped up, put his arm round 
 her neck and kissed her. "Give me a 
 kiss, Nell, I've always told you you were 
 a peach." He kissed her again. "Right- 
 eousness and peace have kissed each other 
 but, as I was going to say, there's a mouse 
 of a cleric who's making good money out 
 of running his church as a registry office. 
 All your boy's got to do is to go to the 
 parsonage, pay that twelve dollars and fix 
 the time for the ceremony." 
 
 The road was clear but she must still 
 be careful. "Dennis, you'll say nothing 
 to him about all this?" 
 
 "For sure I won't." 
 
 "If he should ask you, say you know 
 someone who got married there. There's 
 no call to say more. Now, will you get 
 me some paper and envelopes?"
 
 96 ELINOR COLHOUSE 
 
 He left the room. 
 
 "It's all right now, Juley, but it 
 mightn't have been. I want to have a 
 talk when you've got Dennis to bed." 
 
 "That won't be before the bar's 
 closed." 
 
 He came back with the paper and 
 envelopes and Elinor was left alone. She 
 sat on the bed and using the back of her 
 hand-mirror for a writing-pad started a 
 note. 
 
 "Richard my dearest." 
 
 She stopped and sucked her pencil. 
 Couldn't she improve on that? She be- 
 gan on another sheet. 
 
 "Richard my husband-to-be." 
 
 That was better! But was it, though? 
 She wrote one after another : 
 
 "My own Richard." 
 
 "My dearest Richard." 
 
 "Richard my dearest." 
 
 "Richard my husband-to-be." 
 
 "Richard my dear one." 
 
 "Richard my beloved." 
 
 Each had its special significance. She 
 read them over, considering carefully. 
 Now she'd got it! 
 
 "Richard, my all but husband." That 
 was at once original, appealing and true.
 
 ELINOR COLHOUSE 97 
 
 "Richard my all but Husband, It can, 
 it shall be, as you wish. We will be mar- 
 ried under the British flag and in a Brit- 
 ish church. I know nothing about your 
 marriage laws but I trust you utterly. 
 Dennis knows of a dear little church on 
 the other side; it's called St. Luke's, some 
 friends of his were married there. There 
 is no difficulty, only a small fee to -pay. I 
 shall be waiting for you, ready dressed, at 
 eight. Knock at my door and we'll go 
 down together. 
 
 "I can 't write what I feel, my heart is 
 too full. I am thinking, thinking of all 
 you mean to me, of our future. You 
 know how deep my love for you is; I've 
 proved that. I pray God I may make 
 you as good a 'wife as you deserve. Your 
 
 <( Elinor." 
 
 She read it over. It was wonderful 
 how naturally the words came when one 
 was deeply moved. She put the note in 
 its envelope, addressed it and laid it on 
 the dressing-table. It was only half-past 
 ten and Julia would be there in a few min- 
 utes, the bars closed early in Wisconsin. 
 She began undressing, thinking hard. 
 There would be plenty to talk over with
 
 98 ELINOR COLHOUSE 
 
 Julia; she was pretty cute. She laid her 
 skirt and blouse carefully on a chair and 
 took down her hair. It wasn't very long 
 but it was thick, and black as jet. She 
 combed it out and twisted it, holding it be- 
 side her face. She had much rather have 
 been fair but how her hair showed up her 
 skin and the natural colour in her cheeks; 
 her skin was as smooth as velvet, the 
 colour of rich cream. She sat down and 
 examined herself with the hand mirror. 
 Her nose certainly was beautiful, so were 
 her ears, like little shells close against her 
 head. It was a pity her hair was so stiff, 
 it was difficult to get it to go properly in 
 the nape of the neck, those short hairs 
 were so tiresome and straight, and curling 
 them made them worse. She laid the 
 mirror down, undid her corset, threw it 
 on the bed, sat in her chemise only and 
 took the mirror in her hand again. The 
 line of her neck and shoulders was per- 
 fect. She let her chemise drop and slip- 
 ped on her lacy nightdress, open low in 
 front, with blue ribbons to fasten it, which 
 she tied with quick skill into impeccable 
 bows, flattening out the ends. 
 
 There was a knock at the door.
 
 ELINOR COLHOUSE 99 
 
 Elinor slipped into bed as Julia entered 
 the room. 
 
 "I've just put Den to bed. He's as 
 full as he ever can be." 
 
 "Juley, I've been doing some thinking, 
 and I want you to listen and talk to Den 
 to-morrow when he's sober. First, 
 though, take this note to Richard's room 
 and hand it to him with my love. Say 
 there's no answer." 
 
 Julia sped off and in a moment was 
 back. 
 
 "He hadn't started to undress. He 
 was writing. I saw the paper covered 
 with writing; stacks of it." 
 
 "Um, I wonder who he's writing to." 
 
 "Why? D'you think it matters?" 
 
 Elinor was pondering. "Don't know 
 that it does much really. But, Juley, 
 you know pretty well now how things are, 
 don't you?" 
 
 "In a way I do, but not exactly." 
 
 "Well, listen. He specially doesn't 
 want the marriage known; he's scared of 
 his parents. Seems he and his father 
 don't get on any too well. But it's his 
 mother he thinks about chiefly." 
 
 Julia gazed at her through her glasses
 
 100 ELINOR COLHOUSE 
 
 with an alert expression in her bright 
 eyes. "What is he going to do?" 
 
 "He says he'll go straight back to his 
 work at Cliftonburg and act as though 
 nothing had happened till his uncle comes 
 back; seems he's good friends with his 
 uncle." 
 
 "What then?" 
 
 "Then he'd tell his uncle he's engaged. 
 'He wouldn't dare say married. After 
 that he didn't seem to know what would 
 happen ." 
 
 "Why, Nell," Julia jumped up and 
 stood in front of the bed with clasped 
 hands, "that won't do. You might go on 
 for years like that. Now look ahere. 
 You get married and leave the rest to 
 Dennis and me." 
 
 "Leave what rest? Why don't you 
 say?" 
 
 Julia sat down on the bed again and put 
 her hand affectionately on Elinor's arm 
 under the short lace-trimmed sleeve. 
 
 " 'Cos I'm wanting to save you know- 
 ing anything. That marriage can't be 
 kept secret, that's all there is about 
 it." 
 
 Elinor interrupted. "Juley! It's the 
 one thing he wants."
 
 ELINOR COLHOUSE IOI 
 
 "Can't help that. We've got to think 
 of you." 
 
 "But I've promised. I said I could 
 trust you and Dennis." 
 
 "Well, an' I guess you can. See here, 
 Nell, you just go on promising, that don't 
 cost anything. He'll be as pleased as 
 you will before he's done, anyway. And 
 if you was to do as he wants, you'd likely 
 
 find yourself left so badly that you'd 
 
 But it's no use talking about it. What I 
 want to know is, has he got a roll to go on 
 with?" 
 
 "I don't know what he's got, not much 
 anyway. But that don't matter. The 
 old man can raise a few hundred dollars 
 to get us to London." 
 
 "That's talking. You'll fix the old 
 folk when you get there. Trust you for 
 that. Say, Nell, what's he doing now?" 
 
 "Got some job on his uncle's railroad in 
 Cliftonburg, about a hundred dollars a 
 month, I guess, from what he said. He 
 says he can easily get two hundred in a 
 short while. His father wants him to 
 work. Later on he's got to go into his 
 father's business, banking, in London. 
 Juley, they're rolling in money, millions 
 of it." Julia's eyes glistened responsively.
 
 102 ELINOR COLHOUSE 
 
 "And he's been in Canada with Sir Will- 
 iam Leicester Kartwright. He married 
 Isolde Allones, who's in Town Topics 
 every week. Sir William Kartwright's 
 one of the way ups in London. Seems he 
 and Richard's father formed a big com- 
 pany for farming and ranching in Can- 
 ada and Richard was out there as his pri- 
 vate secretary. The concern went wrong 
 but it doesn't worry his father, though he 
 must have lost stacks in it. Richard's 
 uncle's a partner with a baron who's an- 
 other big banker, and they own the C. W. 
 & M. Railway system. I tell you, Juley, 
 Richard Kurt's away up in G. I'll take 
 chances about what he's got now. There'll 
 be plenty of good English money and 
 everything else later on." 
 
 By this time Elinor had worked both 
 herself and her friend up to an exhilarat- 
 ing state of excitement, and Julia bent 
 over her and kissed her with enthusiasm. 
 
 "Good for you, Nell," she exclaimed, 
 "now, I'll get back to Den. When's the 
 wedding to be?" 
 
 "He's to call for me here at my room 
 at eight. We'll have breakfast and go 
 to the church straight away. You wait 
 here till we come back."
 
 ELINOR COLHOUSE 103 
 
 "Right, Nell." She kissed her good- 
 night. "Sweet dreams, my dear, and 
 don't worry." 
 
 When Richard knocked on .Elinor's 
 door at the appointed hour next morning, 
 he had thrown off his seriousness of the 
 night before and appeared to be in buoy- 
 ant spirits. She was not quite sure that 
 she altogether liked his new mood. She 
 had prepared herself to be grave if not 
 solemn as the momentous hour ap- 
 proached. She even alluded to her sense 
 of its gravity at breakfast, for which he 
 had, to her mind, an unreasonable appetite 
 and took longer over than in the circum- 
 stances was altogether becoming. 
 
 On their way across the suspension 
 bridge he stopped at the spot where the 
 scene of the previous evening had taken 
 place, hung over the parapet and, look- 
 ing at the water, said: "I must shoot 
 those rapids this afternoon." Imagine 
 thinking of such a thing when one was go- 
 ing to be married in perhaps an hour! 
 
 They had seen the minister get up from 
 his breakfast through the open window as 
 they approached the house. They were
 
 104 ELINOR COLHOUSE 
 
 ushered into the parlour by an elderly 
 woman, whose back was no sooner turned 
 than Richard made allusions to her false 
 hair. His behaviour was worse when the 
 clergyman entered the room in a dignified 
 manner, holding a prayer-book. Opening 
 it at the page where lay a fringed canvas 
 marker embroidered with a cross, the min- 
 ister took out a card, at which Richard 
 barely glanced before passing it to her. 
 While she was reading the inscription 
 
 THE REV. C. HAWKE, 
 
 Incumbent, 
 
 ST. LUKE'S VICARAGE, 
 ST. MARY'S, 
 ONTARIO 
 
 she heard him say: "I expect you know 
 we've come to get married. How soon 
 can we get it over and how much does it 
 cost?" 
 
 Elinor considered such a way of intro- 
 ducing the object of their visit most un- 
 dignified, even vulgar, and she was sur- 
 prised that the minister smiled so pleas- 
 antly while he opened the prayer-book
 
 ELINOR COLHOUSE 105 
 
 near the cover and took out another and 
 larger card. This one Richard examined 
 carefully. "That's ,all right," he said, 
 drawing a bundle of notes from his pocket 
 and counting them on to the top of the 
 prayer-book. "Five, ten, twenty. Let's 
 see, how much was it, including the 
 stamp?" He pulled the card out of his 
 pocket. "Ah, I see. We'll call it a 
 round twenty, shall we?" 
 
 Mr. Hawke continued to smile. 
 
 "Very kind, I'm sure, Mr . What 
 
 did I understand to be your name?" 
 
 "Richard Kurt and this is Miss Elinor 
 Colhouse. We might as well fill in the 
 forms now, if it's all the same to you." 
 
 Mr. Hawke rubbed his hands softly. 
 "I can marry you now if you like; the 
 church is quite close. Would you like me 
 to see to it at once?" 
 
 "Yes, Mr. Hawke, I should." 
 
 "Excuse me then, for a moment." 
 
 He left the door ajar. Elinor closed 
 it and turned to Richard. She was 
 feeling very sore. "I don't know why 
 you have adopted this attitude." 
 
 "What attitude?" 
 
 "You know perfectly well what I mean. 
 I think it's very unkind. No girl likes a
 
 106 ELINOR COLHOUSE 
 
 joke made of her marriage. And your 
 way of acting and talking is worse than a 
 joke. You seem to want to hurt my 
 feelings." 
 
 Just then Mr. Hawke returned with 
 some papers, a pen and an inkpot in his 
 hands. Elinor , passed her handkerchief 
 over her eyes and at the clergyman's 
 invitation seated herself at the table be- 
 side Richard to fill out the forms spread 
 before them. Once more Mr. Hawke re- 
 turned to the prayer-book, took out a 
 third card, of much smaller size, and re- 
 marked to Elinor, with a benignant look : 
 "Marriage lines, the most important of 
 all for you, young lady, but I can't part 
 with it yet not yet but very soon." 
 He turned to Richard. "We can proceed 
 now if you like." 
 
 The lady who had shown them in was 
 awaiting them at the front door and was 
 now introduced as Mrs. Hawke. "What 
 a lovely day. Blessed is the bride that 
 the sun shines on." Her smile was full 
 of admiration and Elinor began to feel on 
 better terms with herself. 
 
 Richard and the clergyman were 
 walking in front, but they turned round 
 and waited for the ladies to come up.
 
 ELINOR COLHOUSE 107 
 
 "I say, Elinor, Mr. Hawke was 
 speaking about witnesses and the O'Haras 
 came into my head. I'd forgotten them. 
 I'll run and fetch them." 
 
 She hesitated a moment. It would be 
 a mistake to offend Dennis and Julia, but 
 she wasn't going to let Richard go with- 
 out her, she had heard of brides being left 
 at the church before now. 
 
 "I'll go with you; they'll like it better if 
 I ask them myself." 
 
 On their way to the hotel she de- 
 termined to get an explanation of his con- 
 stant changes of mood, and obtained an 
 admission that he had been "rather bad 
 form." "But," he added, "I know that 
 little humbug makes a living out of this 
 game. You ask O'Hara." 
 
 She looked sharply up at him. What 
 did he know? His face betrayed noth- 
 ing; he was impenetrable sometimes. 
 
 They found the O'Haras awaiting 
 them. 
 
 The clergyman, accompanied by Mrs. 
 Hawke, bustled out of the vestry in his 
 surplice. "I'm quite ready. Would your 
 friend like to act as best man?" 
 
 O'Hara nodded.
 
 108 ELINOR COLHOUSE 
 
 "Please give him the ring, Mr. Kurt." 
 
 "The ring. By Jove, I never thought 
 of that!" Richard looked helplessly at 
 Elinor, who was thinking what a fool she 
 had been not to have reminded him of the 
 necessary symbol. 
 
 Dennis came to the rescue. 
 
 "I guess that's happened before now, 
 hasn't it, your Reverence?" 
 
 Mr. Hawke fumbled under his much- 
 crumpled surplice and drew out a silver 
 ring with an expression in his face like 
 little Jack Horner pulling out the plum. 
 Dennis examined it solemnly. 
 
 The ceremony over and the register 
 signed, Elinor's vigilant eye observed Mr. 
 Hawke take Dennis and Julia aside. She 
 beckoned to the latter, who whispered: 
 "They're bargaining about the ring. He 
 asked five dollars and Den says it's worth 
 fifty cents." 
 
 Richard had overheard. Slipping a- 
 cross the vestry he put some notes in the 
 clergyman's hand : "I beg you to accept 
 ten dollars, Mr. Hawke. The ring will be 
 a souvenir of the greatest event of my life 
 and I shall always kefep and cherish it." 
 
 Elinor's heart leaped. There was a 
 gentleman indeed, a real English gentle-
 
 ELINOR COLHOUSE 109 
 
 man; she took his hand and pressed it 
 silently. 
 
 The Hawkes saw the four of them out 
 by the vestry door. 
 
 Elinor was in front, with her arm in 
 Richard's. "Let them pass," she whis- 
 pered. There was so much she wanted 
 to say, but she found no suitable words. 
 She was actually married to the boy beside 
 her, he was hers now by right. What 
 ought to be her next step? 
 
 They had almost reached the other end 
 of the bridge when he broke in upon her 
 thoughts. 
 
 "I say, Elinor, I must shoot those 
 rapids after lunch." 
 
 She tried not to show she was put about 
 but he certainly was unaccountable. 
 
 He seemed to take it for granted that 
 she should go up to her room alone and 
 she was obliged to leave him while Julia 
 accompanied her upstairs. She would 
 have, loved to unburden herself to her 
 friend, who plied her with questions as to 
 what he had said and done, but how could 
 she admit to her that he had literally said 
 nothing, had never offered even to kiss
 
 1 10 ELINOR COLHOUSE 
 
 her and that the one thing he. wanted to 
 do was to shoot the rapids? 
 
 "Wasn't he sweet, Juley?" 
 
 "Sweet. Anyone can see how happy he 
 is. You are Ijucky, Nell deiar." Julia 
 kissed her warmly. 
 
 This was balm to Elinor. 
 
 The preliminary cocktails gave the 
 ensuing meal a good send-off. Dennis 
 behaved with reasonable decorum and to 
 Elinor's relief no allusions were made to 
 the morning's ceremony. Richard's spir- 
 its were maintained but his manner to- 
 wards Julia and herself was identical. 
 He was being pleasant all round. 
 
 When they arose from the table, he 
 drew her to the corner of the hall. "I've 
 looked up the boats. We must get off to- 
 morrow at nine." 
 
 She assented, but there was more to 
 come. 
 
 "It isn't possible to go on here like this. 
 You mustn't be compromised. I must get 
 you safe to Manitou with your mother 
 and then go back to Cliftonburg." 
 
 She nodded. 
 
 "I'm so glad you think so; everything 
 depends now upon keeping it dark. I
 
 ELINOR COLHOUSE III 
 
 wrote a long letter to my mother last 
 night, but I thought better of it. Letters 
 are no good. I shall have to face it out 
 when the time comes. But there's no 
 hurry, is there?" 
 
 "No, there's no hurry," she answered 
 mechanically. 
 
 "Your agreeing with me makes every- 
 thing easier. Now, let's go and shoot 
 the rapids." 
 
 VI 
 
 It was quite exciting rushing through 
 the boiling water. Jagged rocks, alter- 
 nately exposed and overwhelmed, marked 
 the narrow channel through which their 
 canoe must pass. The two Indians stand- 
 ing, one at the bow, the other at the stern, 
 uttered loud shouts, and as an additional 
 thrill the paddler in the stern, with great 
 dexterity, dashed about a glassful of 
 water over Richard's back. That was 
 all. They shot into the calmer current 
 and came smoothly to shore a mile lower 
 down. 
 
 Richard paid the men laughingly, and 
 said to her: "That's done; rather jolly, 
 wasn't it?" 
 
 Further on, they took an ordinary
 
 112 ELINOR COLHOUSE 
 
 rowing-boat and he rowed slowly into a 
 backwater full of rushes. Here and 
 there the water was almost stagnant and 
 covered with water-lilies. Letting the 
 boat glide to the bank, where it came to 
 rest, he shipped his oars and sat down by 
 her in the stern. At last! He put his 
 arm behind her and drew her towards 
 him, kissing her on the cheek as he did 
 so. She yielded herself freely to him, 
 moving her face so that their lips met, and 
 held his in a long kiss. Then he sat back 
 in the seat, withdrew his arm and lighted 
 a cigarette. For a moment his expression 
 was troubled, he inhaled several mouth- 
 fuls of smoke, then began: 
 
 "There's a lot I want to say, Elinor." 
 
 "Yes, dear." She put all the ex- 
 pressiveness she could into her voice. She 
 wanted him to talk. 
 
 "We're man and wife now. I don't 
 think I quite know how it has come to 
 that, somehow." 
 
 The remark was not flattering, was not 
 at all what she would have liked him to 
 say but she would not show that and she 
 made no comment. 
 
 "But there it is and I think, when we 
 are able to be married properly so that
 
 ELINOR COLHOUSE 113 
 
 everyone can know it, it will be all right. 
 As it is, you see, really, it's not a marriage 
 at all" he looked at her again "not in 
 the proper way, I mean." 
 
 What was he driving at? What did 
 his words imply? 
 
 "Of course it's private, if you mean 
 that," she answered. 
 
 "No, I don't mean only that. I mean 
 we can't live together at all, we mustn't. 
 It would be utterly wrong considering 
 considering the circumstances." 
 
 She recognised the lameness of his con 
 elusion and she began to see light. He 
 was conveying to her that he would not 
 claim his rights as a husband. If he felt 
 so, there was nothing for her to do; this 
 lack of ardour was humiliating but he 
 would soon change when they came to- 
 gether again. Meanwhile she must put 
 something into his head it was important 
 he should keep there. 
 
 She took his hand and held it between 
 hers. 
 
 "I understand how you feel, dear. I'm 
 sure you're right. But the thought of our 
 separation is very hard to bear, especially 
 when I remember what we have been to 
 each other."
 
 114 ELINOR COLHOUSE 
 
 He threw his cigarette into the water 
 and watched it soak and gradually sink 
 before he answered. 
 
 "That was a mad moment, Elinor. I 
 don't forget it but I'm ashamed of it. It 
 was all against my ideas. A man must 
 lespect his I'd rather not talk about 
 it. But it's no use making matters worse, 
 is it?" 
 
 What exactly did he mean by making 
 matters worse? What should she say? 
 It was indispensable that he should real- 
 ise the sacrifice she had made, his ob- 
 ligation to her. 
 
 "I don't know what you mean by 
 making matters worse. I regret nothing 
 as I know you love me. If you didn't, I 
 shouldn't care to live" into her voice 
 came the note of pathos "there would be 
 nothing to live for." She ended with a 
 sigh, looking not at him but into the 
 water. 
 
 "Elinor dear. Don't talk like that. 
 Of course I love you." He put his arms 
 about her and kissed her on the neck, 
 the face, the lips. 
 
 She sighed again softly. "I hope so, 
 Richard. All our future depends on that. 
 'Man's love is like a restless wave, ever
 
 ELINOR COLHOUSE 11$ 
 
 at rise and fall; the only love a woman 
 craves, it must be all in all.' ' She quoted 
 the words of her favourite song which 
 always moved her. And Richard showed 
 that the apposite quotation was effective, 
 so effective that it provoked renewed 
 physical illustration of the enduring 
 power of his love. The shadows length- 
 ened on the water and they turned to- 
 wards the shore when the mosquitoes be- 
 came disagreeably inquisitive. 
 
 Elinor's memories of the evening that 
 followed were not amongst those she ever 
 wanted to preserve. Dennis O'Hara's 
 silly jokes offended her sense of the ap- 
 propriate and smeared what would other- 
 wise have been romantic and poignant 
 hours with commonness. She bore his 
 behaviour as well as she could, encour- 
 aging Richard to talk about his home-life, 
 hoping that when the Irishman realised 
 the social and financial eminence of her 
 future situation, he would adopt a more 
 respectful attitude. 
 
 "Where are your parents now?" she 
 asked. 
 
 "I really don't know exactly. The last 
 letter I got from mother, she was in
 
 Il6 ELINOR COLHOUSE 
 
 Scotland staying with a Lady Dodd, old 
 friends of ours. She's awfully nice but I 
 can't stand her husband. He came up 
 to me once when I was riding in the Row 
 and ask me what omnibus my horse came 
 out of." 
 
 O'Hara roared. "Good for Dodd." 
 
 "Dodd, Dodd, diddledy Dodd, 
 Riddledy, diddledy Dodd." 
 
 Richard joined in the laughter but 
 Elinor was irritated beyond measure. 
 Not only was this vulgar facetiousness in 
 vile taste but it interrupted an interesting 
 conversation. When the laughter sub- 
 sided she began again, slightly changing 
 the subject. "They aren't at their country 
 place, then?" 
 
 "Oh no. Mother dislikes Elthorne 
 now, we've given it up. It's too close to 
 London: nothing but brick fields. The 
 Fitz-Alans never go there now either. 
 The old lord hates all the new people. I 
 don't blame him." 
 
 Richard's accent was on the "I." 
 
 She didn't understand. "What new 
 people?" 
 
 "Oh, people like us who have bought 
 houses about there. The Fitz-Alans
 
 ELINOR COLHOUSE 117 
 
 have been there since the Conquest, you 
 see." 
 
 Elinor was concerned about the Kurts 
 being new people and in consequence 
 hated by Lord Fitz-Alan. She would 
 have loved to know more about that but 
 this wasn't the moment. Again she 
 changed the subject. 
 
 "Wjhere are your sisters now?" 
 
 "They go to school in Paris but they'll 
 be joining mother at Dieppe for the 
 holidays." 
 
 "Is Dieppe nice?" 
 
 "I've never been there. The girls like 
 it; they play tennis and bathe, and mother 
 drives a lot." 
 
 This was a subject to pursue. Elinor 
 glanced at the O'Haras as she asked: 
 "What does she drive?" 
 
 "Oh, she sends the phaeton and 
 cobs over with the old coachman. She 
 never lets him drive the cobs; his hands 
 are bad enough with the carriage 
 horses. You should see her pi'tch 
 into him." He laughed at the recollec- 
 tion. 
 
 O'Hara's eyes were fixed with an 
 amused expression on Richard. "What 
 does she say?"
 
 II& ELINOR COLHOUSE 
 
 "Tells him she'll discharge him the 
 next time he jabs at their mouths. Some- 
 times she taps him on the back with her 
 parasol." 
 
 "I guess the old lady's got a temper." 
 
 Richard's expression changed; his eyes 
 flashed. 
 
 " 'Old lady,' what do you mean?" He 
 rapped the words out angrily. 
 
 O'Hara was taken unprepared. Noth- 
 ing was further from his intention than 
 to offend. "No harm meant, young fel- 
 ler." 
 
 Richard ceased talking from then on 
 and Elinor made no further attempts to 
 draw him out. The ebullition had sur- 
 prised her. He had never shown temper 
 before but this exhibition proved that he 
 had got one, and it also proved that the 
 subject of his mother was one which must 
 be approached with caution. She had 
 taken occasion before supper to impress 
 upon Julia the importance of restraining 
 Dennis from indiscreet allusions when 
 bed-time came. And for once he "acted 
 reasonable." Richard bade her good- 
 night at her door as casually as he had 
 Julia just before; he never attempted 
 even to look into the room, let alone
 
 ELINOR COLHOUSE 119 
 
 enter it, but walked quietly off down the 
 corridor. 
 
 She undressed with mingled feelings, 
 which became emotional when she began 
 packing so as to be ready in good time 
 for their early morning departure. The 
 sight of the one side of the valise still 
 untouched, with the straps fastened as 
 when she had so carefully placed the 
 contents there, brought tears to her eyes. 
 "Poor little nightie," she said aloud, as 
 she turned back the partition and ex- 
 tracted the dainty thing, so exquisitely be- 
 ribboned and scented. She laid it rever- 
 ently on the bed and unwrapped from 
 their fresh tissue-paper covering the 
 brand-new silk vest, the hand-embroidered 
 chemise, the iridescent silk petticoat, all 
 the bewitching accessories reserved for an 
 occasion that might have been and was 
 not. How could she help being unhappy 
 at the sight of them? It was so hard 
 to be deprived of everything a girl longed 
 for, had the right to expect, a real trous- 
 seau, a proper wedding. These poor 
 little things were all she had to take the 
 place of so much she could never have 
 now. And there they were, not even 
 seen! Life had been very cruel. And
 
 1 20 ELINOR COLHOUSE 
 
 yet? She was standing by the bedside 
 refolding them, but she stopped, put her 
 hand to her forehead. He had spoken of 
 another marriage, he wanted a "proper" 
 wedding too. Could it still be done? 
 She returned to her packing, hastily re- 
 placed the things, restrapped the parti- 
 tion. Throwing on her dressing-gown, 
 she ran down the passage and called Julia. 
 
 "Juley, come into my room, there's 
 something I must say to you." 
 
 A moment later the little woman, her 
 black frizzy hair standing up like cork- 
 screws all over her head, flicked into the 
 room and shut the door. 
 
 "What is it?" she asked. "You said 
 not to come to-night and I wanted to 
 ever so much." She was on the tiptoe 
 of curiosity. Elinor threw herself on the 
 bed. 
 
 "Juley, I've been thinking we'd better 
 keep it secret after all, for a time. Just 
 to see how things go he wants to have a 
 proper wedding, he said so several times." 
 
 Julia became very serious and lifted her 
 forefinger. 
 
 "Now, Nell, it's no use saying that. I 
 know too much, I'm years older than you
 
 ELINOR COLHOUSE 121 
 
 are. You've got to let me do as I think. 
 You aren't goin' to risk your whole life- 
 time for a wedding, surely?" 
 
 Elinor was impressed, indeed her mind 
 was made up to do as her friend advised, 
 but she longed to be comforted. 
 
 "Just to think I shall never be a bride. 
 It's so hard, Juley, it's so hard," and she 
 buried her face in the pillow while Julia, 
 deeply touched, comforted her for all she 
 was worth.
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 THE O'Haras had seen them off on the 
 boat and they were steaming back to Man- 
 itou. Richard was in sober mood and 
 spoke of their future and his plans. It 
 was agreed that Mrs. Colhouse should be 
 informed of the marriage as soon as they 
 arrived and that he would leave the same 
 evening for Cliftonburg. The great 
 thing was to return to his work; he could 
 do a lot in a short time if he tried, and 
 now it was worth while. It was a cool 
 cloudy day and he wrapped her up and 
 found a spot on the lee-side sheltered from 
 the wind. He was very considerate to 
 her; she had never felt so fond of him. 
 They got on well together and he told her 
 many things she wanted to know. She 
 was getting to understand everything. 
 He answered all her questions and hardly 
 asked her any. The more she heard, the 
 more convinced she became that the 
 future would be rosy. Not that he said 
 so. On the contrary, he spoke of it with 
 
 122
 
 ELINOR COLHOUSE 123 
 
 apprehension, warned her again and again 
 to be prepared for anything. His 
 father would most likely give him nothing 
 when he knew of their engagement; he 
 would certainly not let them come to 
 London, but he hoped he would gradually 
 relent if he worked hard. As the time 
 got shorter and they approached Manitou, 
 he said he hated the thought of leaving 
 her, but he knew if he took her with him 
 it would be "all up" with him. He got 
 more and more tender and affectionate, 
 holding her hand and every now and then 
 kissing her. She had never known any- 
 one like him before, he behaved like a 
 younger brother who was going back to 
 school. jMammy had always said he was 
 a baby. One thing was certain, she her- 
 self would have to be the one to manage 
 everything; she would have to show that 
 he could, that he must, trust to her judg- 
 ment, do always what she advised. 
 
 When they arrived at the cottage 
 Mrs. Colhouse was sitting outside her 
 door, as usual talking over the fence to 
 Mrs. Shuter, who promptly disappeared 
 at their approach. Telling Richard to
 
 124 ELINOR COLHOUSE 
 
 stay outside a moment, Elinor kissed her 
 mother and drew her into the sitting- 
 room. "We're married," she said 
 triumphantly. 
 
 Mrs. Colhouse gave a gasp and, putting 
 her hand to her heart, subsided on to the 
 sofa. 
 
 "Married! Nell!" 
 
 "So that's done." Elinor subcon- 
 sciously repeated Richard's words after 
 they had shot the rapids, "but we're only 
 saying we're engaged- for the present." 
 
 Mrs. Colhouse was too astonished to 
 speak. 
 
 "And he's going back to Cliftonburg 
 to-night. He doesn't want his father 
 and mother to know till after his uncle 
 gets back and makes it all right with 
 them." 
 
 "To think of your being married to 
 that boy! You scarcely know him." 
 
 "I know him more than you think." 
 
 Without waiting to hear what her 
 mother might say, she went to the door. 
 "Come in, Richard. I've told mammy 
 we're married." 
 
 For an instant the boy looked at her 
 and at her mother, who still sat half-
 
 ELINOR COLHOUSE 125 
 
 collapsed on the sofa. Then he went 
 forward and, bending down, kissed Mrs. 
 Colhouse on the cheek. 
 
 "I shall call you mammy now," he said 
 gaily. "I hope you aren't upset. Elinor 
 and I thought it the best thing to do; it 
 
 wasn't any use writing and and " 
 
 He stopped and looked again from one to 
 the other. 
 
 Mrs. Colhouse folded her hands, inter- 
 lacing the fingers, her head was bent and 
 she did not speak. 
 
 The boy sat down by her and put his 
 hand on hers. "You aren't unhappy, are 
 you, Mrs. Colhouse mammy, I mean? 
 I know it's rather a rather hasty but 
 everything is all right, isn't it, Elinor?" 
 
 He looked up at his wife appealingly. 
 
 Elinor was thinking how foolish he was 
 behaving. Why couldn't he be stronger, 
 more manly? 
 
 "All right? Of course it is. We 
 love each other, mammy, that's all there 
 is to it, and Richard wanted to make sure 
 of me. But so far as everyone else is 
 doncerned, we're only engaged as yet. 
 I'll tell you everything by degrees; there's 
 not much time before he goes."
 
 126 ELINOR COLHOUSE 
 
 Elinor took Richard up to her room 
 and brought him a can of water with her 
 own hands. 
 
 "Oh, I'm so sorry; thanks, thanks," he 
 relieved her of it and kissed her. "What 
 a jolly little room." He looked round. 
 "I say, what a lot of clothes!" 
 
 Indeed they were everywhere, hung on 
 pegs on the wall, on the door and in band- 
 boxes piled on each other in the corners 
 and even under the bed. 
 
 He poured water into the basin, re- 
 marking: "I'll hurry up and get out of 
 your way." 
 
 What a curious creature he was. He 
 was here in her room, where she slept 
 and had her intimate being, and he was as 
 unconscious of it all, apparently, as 
 though she were his sister. Would he 
 always be like that? She stood an instant 
 looking at him as he plunged his face into 
 the basin, making the water bubble as he 
 snorted in it. Had she gone too fast and 
 too far? Was it possible that she could 
 no longer rely on rousing his feelings? 
 He had shown passion enough that one 
 evening. She went softly out of the 
 room, casting the problem over in her
 
 ELINOR COLHOUSE 127 
 
 mind, and had hardly reached the bottom 
 of the stairs when he rejoined her. 
 
 At supper a magnificent box of choco- 
 lates made its appearance with the name 
 of a well-known New York candy store 
 on the lid. Elinor had herself placed it 
 on the table; it might be a good or a bad 
 move to reveal the name of the sender. 
 She hadn't made up her mind when an 
 innocent comment by Mrs. Colhouse 
 settled the question. 
 
 "Mr. Galton has spread himself, Nell." 
 
 Elinor looked at Richard. His face 
 was black, and from then on he was silent. 
 
 Ought she to be pleased or the reverse? 
 It certainly gratified her to see that he 
 cared enough to be so violently jealous, 
 for it could be nothing but jealousy. But 
 she didn't intend giving up her right to 
 harmless attentions such as boxes of 
 candy. 
 
 They had no sooner risen from the 
 table than he led her outside. 
 
 He began angrily: "How dare that cad 
 Galton send you that box of sweets? You 
 oughtn't to accept presents from him; you 
 know the sort of man he is."
 
 128 ELINOR COLHOUSE 
 
 "How was I to know who sent it? I 
 saw a box addressed to me and opened 
 it, and there was his card inside." 
 
 "You ought to have sent it back. Give 
 it to me. I'll jolly well show him that 
 
 "Richard, dear, don't be angry about 
 nothing. It would make me ridiculous if 
 you were to send it back now; we've eaten 
 half the top layer." 
 
 "I wish I'd known. Look here, Elinor, 
 don't you write him. Give me his beastly 
 card and I'll answer him. Where is it?" 
 
 "I don't know, I think I threw it away." 
 Elinor had carefully preserved it, regard- 
 ing the superscription: "To the loveliest 
 of southern belles from her fervent ad- 
 mirer" as highly flattering. 
 
 "Will you promise me never to write to 
 him?" Richard spoke earnestly. 
 
 "Yes, dearest, I do promise you. You 
 have a right to it." 
 
 He seized her hand and, kissing it, said: 
 "Thank you; thank you." 
 
 They went in and sat down together 
 on the sofa. Mrs. Colhouse had disap- 
 peared, the help was clearing the table. 
 
 "The thought of that man Galton re- 
 minds me of Cliftonburg. He makes me
 
 ELINOR COLHOUSE 129 
 
 long for England. I believe I'm home- 
 sick." 
 
 Elinor had never in her life experienced 
 that emotion and could not imagine it. 
 
 "You see, here in America no one 
 cares about anything but money or what 
 they call amusement. Everything seems 
 to be moving, everyone is in a hurry, 
 there's no time for anything. I like to 
 sit down and read sometimes or have a 
 quiet talk, but at Cliftonburg they never 
 stop at home: they're either at business or 
 in bars. I do hate the place." He broke 
 off abruptly. 
 
 She thoroughly disliked her own people, 
 but her idea of life was certainly not 
 sitting in one's house and reading. 
 
 "I can't tell you how I hate going 
 back to Cliftonburg. The governor's one 
 idea is work work for its own sake. 
 He'd rather walk up hill than drive just 
 because it's more disagreeable, and yet he 
 always says he doesn't want me to go 
 into his business." 
 
 "Not go into his business ! Surely you 
 don't mean to miss such a chance as that?" 
 
 "I suppose it would be the best way to 
 make money. But I want to know
 
 130 ELINOR COLHOUSE 
 
 Europe and see beautiful things and read 
 and think. That's living: sitting in an 
 office isn't." 
 
 For Elinor, Europe was Paris and 
 London, and perhaps Switzerland, where 
 she knew people went to see the moun- 
 tains. She had also heard that Rome 
 was fashionable and she knew that several 
 New York society girls had married 
 Italian princes and counts. But this idea 
 of moving about to see what he called 
 beautiful things and think about them, 
 must be crushed at all costs. The idea 
 of settling down to a small income in 
 order to loaf, when he could make a pile, 
 once he got into his father's business! 
 She must get that out of his head. 
 
 "Richard, dear, haven't you got a little 
 off the track? You said you meant to 
 work for my sake, didn't you, and that 
 you could do a lot in a short time so that 
 when your uncle got back he'd put things 
 right?" 
 
 He jumped up and took a few steps as 
 though he were shaking something off, 
 then plopped down beside her again on 
 the sofa. 
 
 "Of course, dear girl, of course. 
 You're quite right. I'll stick to my work;
 
 ELINOR COLHOUSE 131 
 
 you can count on me." He put his arm 
 round her and kissed her. She deter- 
 mined to improve the occasion. 
 
 "Believe me, Richard," she said, with 
 great earnestness, "money is the one thing 
 that matters; you can do all the other 
 things afterwards. I've seen enough to 
 know. Leisure means loafing. My father 
 had that sort of notion about money not 
 mattering and poor mammy and I have 
 paid for it. You don't want me to go on 
 paying all my life, do you?" 
 
 He kissed her again. "You shan't pay. 
 I'll work. I promise you I'll work as I 
 never have before. Now I shall be going 
 in a few minutes. I haven't got much 
 
 money but I can " He put his hand 
 
 into his inner pocket. 
 
 She stopped him at once. "Not a 
 cent, Richard not till we're together. I 
 couldn't." 
 
 "Why not? You're my wife now." 
 
 She half closed her eyes and looked 
 away sadly. "Not properly yet, dear." 
 
 He ran his hand through his hair and 
 held it over his forehead; he seemed to be 
 puzzling over his reply. 
 
 "Not properly yet," he repeated; "no." 
 He dropped on his knees beside her and
 
 132 ELINOR COLHOUSE 
 
 grasped her hand, holding it to his lips. 
 "But it must be so it must for a time. 
 I shall always be thinking of you. Prom- 
 ise me, if you need anything you'll tell me. 
 I shan't spend anything scarcely from now 
 on. I shall save every penny for you." 
 
 Elinor leant forward and kissed him 
 softly. "I promise." 
 
 "I shan't go anywhere or see anyone. 
 I shall just work. In a few weeks Uncle 
 
 Theo will be back, and then " He 
 
 kissed her again and strained her to him. 
 When he lifted his head, tears were in his 
 eyes. "I only realise now how I hate 
 leaving you." He stood up, gazing at 
 her. "If only my mother knew you!" 
 
 When he had gone she sat down and 
 wrote to Mr. Galton, scolding him for 
 sending the candies, which were delicious, 
 but telling him he mustn't write to her 
 or send her anything now as she was 
 engaged to Richard Kurt. Perhaps they 
 would meet again after she was married. 
 
 iii 
 
 During the forty-eight hours following 
 Richard's departure Elinor was surprised
 
 ELINOR COLHOUSE 133 
 
 at her own calmness. Considering the 
 uncertainty of her situation she had good 
 reason to feel apprehensive. An affec- 
 tionately worded telegram had duly 
 reached her. It was now followed by a 
 missive of a different description, over 
 which she was still puzzling. It had been 
 written in the train and was in the form 
 of a poem, called The Song of the Wheel. 
 It was absurd, of course, but it afforded 
 proof of his continuous thought of her 
 during his journey. There were certain 
 lines she could not understand and they 
 stuck in her head, absorbed though she 
 was in edging a reconstructed bodice with 
 passementerie. She laid down her work 
 and read it again: 
 
 Bumpety-bump, jinkety-jink 
 
 The wheels roll on 
 
 As I wretchedly think. 
 
 Tear along, rush along, 
 
 Hurry and speed, 
 
 Give me the furious help that I need 
 
 To stay my remorse, 
 
 To turn me to steel. 
 
 Save my heart and my soul 
 
 From destruction, O wheel!
 
 134 ELINOR COLHOUSE 
 
 What did it mean? What was the re- 
 morse about and why did he want to be 
 turned into steel? And why were his 
 heart and soul in danger of destruction? 
 After several minutes of brow-contract- 
 ing reflection Elinor gave it up and went 
 on with her work, deciding that it wasn't 
 worth bothering about and just meant 
 nothing at all. 
 
 Something more exciting drove the 
 silly rhyme out of her head. Mrs. 
 Colhouse entered the room with a 
 telegram. 
 
 "Cliftonburg papers announce marriage 
 of course am denying everything as you 
 will writing. Kurt'' 
 
 She read it over again, threw down her 
 work and exclaimed "It's all out." 
 
 Tiresome as usual, mammy looked 
 grave. "I can't see why you should be 
 pleased at that." 
 
 "Oh, can't you? Well, send that slut 
 for a paper." 
 
 Elinor quickly threw off her neglige, 
 dressed herself and went downstairs. 
 
 Her mother was poring over the paper. 
 She seized it from her and read:
 
 ELINOR COLHOUSE 135 
 
 SOUTHERN BELLE ELOPES WITH 
 WEALTHY ENGLISHMAN 
 
 EARL'S GRANDSON WEDS DAUGHTER 
 OF DR. COLHOUSE OF WATERVILLE 
 
 According to the whole-column account, 
 Miss Elinor Colhouse, daughter of the 
 celebrated physican Dr. Colhouse of 
 Waterville, famed for her beauty even in 
 a land where beauty was a woman's birth- 
 right, had eloped with Mr. Richard Kurt, 
 son of Mr. William Kurt, the world- 
 famous banker of London, and nephew of 
 the honoured president of the C. W. 
 & M. "It will interest our readers to 
 hear that Mr. Richard Kurt's mother is 
 of a noble English family, though her 
 son, with true patrician modesty, does not 
 advertise the fact." The article termin- 
 ated by wishing happiness to the young 
 couple. 
 
 At the first reading Elinor's eagerness 
 was so great that she only skimmed it, 
 the second time she felt that she had not 
 read it as thoroughly as it deserved, the 
 third time she read it aloud.
 
 136 ELINOR COLHOUSE 
 
 Mrs. Colhouse gazed speechlessly at 
 Elinor, who calmly folded the paper and 
 put it under the clock on the mantelpiece. 
 "Now, I'm going out for a little." 
 
 "Do you think that's right, Nell? 
 You're sure to meet someone who'll ask 
 questions." 
 
 "Suppose I do? I guess I'll know 
 what to say." 
 
 "Are you going to deny it?" 
 
 "I shan't say one way or the other." 
 
 She didn't mean to miss the full enjoy- 
 ment to be got out of the sensation and 
 made straight for the hotel. While she 
 was asking the reception clerk to reserve 
 a good double bedroom and bathroom for 
 a friend she was expecting, someone 
 addressed her by name. Turning round, 
 she found herself face to face with Mr. 
 M'Alpin. 
 
 "Oh, Miss Colhouse" he gasped effu- 
 sively "may I congratulate you? We're 
 all thrilled by the news." 
 
 Elinor drew herself up and stared 
 blankly at him. "What news?" she asked 
 with hauteur. 
 
 "Isn't it true then?" 
 
 "I don't know what you're alluding 
 to?"
 
 ELINOR COLHOUSE 137 
 
 With an expression of astonishment he 
 fetched The Detroit Free Press and 
 pointed with his finger at the front page. 
 Taking it from him, she read it through 
 and lifted her eyebrows. "They seem 
 to know all about it." 
 
 She handed the paper back and bowed 
 coldly. Passing through the midst of a 
 number of guests whose gestures showed 
 that they had been closely observing 
 M'Alpin and herself she departed with 
 dignity. 
 
 As she had anticipated, the next morn- 
 ing brought her a telegram from Richard 
 announcing his arrival the following day, 
 adding, however, something she was less 
 prepared for but which delighted her 
 still more. 
 
 "Be ready accompany me back here." 
 
 She gave it to her mother to read. 
 
 "So he's going to take you back with 
 him?" 
 
 "Of course he is and I've ordered a 
 room at the hotel." 
 
 "A room at the hotel what for?" 
 
 "For Richard and myself of course. 
 Now I guess we'll get busy, mammy.
 
 138 ELINOR COLHOUSE 
 
 There's that mauve crepe de Chine to 
 finish and the red blouse. You can send 
 the black taffeta on." 
 
 iv 
 
 She met Richard at the station. His 
 face was pallid, there were dark lines 
 under his eyes. But his clothes to her 
 satisfaction were as immaculate as ever. 
 
 He embraced her warmly but his 
 manner was serious. 
 
 "I've taken a room at the hotel," she 
 said. 
 
 "I don't want to go there. I want to 
 go somewhere we can talk." 
 
 "Of course, dear, I meant we can 
 sleep there." 
 
 A look of sudden realization crossed 
 his features. "Oh, of course ! Isn't 
 there a room for me at the cottage? 
 Anything will do for one night. We'll 
 leave by the morning train. Are you 
 ready?" 
 
 "Packed to the last hairpin," she an- 
 swered like a competent quartermaster- 
 general. 
 
 "I'll just leave my bag at the cottage 
 for now, I want to be in the air. I
 
 ELINOR COLHOUSE 139 
 
 haven't slept a wink, my head feels as if 
 it would burst." 
 
 They walked out of the station, she 
 with her arm in his. 
 
 "Tell me everything, Richard, from 
 the beginning." 
 
 "I will gradually. You must give me 
 time. My brain's not working yet. I 
 tried to write but I had to give it up. 
 Besides, everything's changed now." 
 
 "I got the poem." 
 
 "The poem," he repeated, adding as 
 though in an afterthought "Oh, that. 
 That's all changed too, everything's 
 
 changed " he stood still. tr L don't 
 
 know where I am really." He looked 
 closely at her, his eyes wandered down her. 
 She had a light-coloured linen skirt and 
 wore a fawn foulard scarf round her neck. 
 They were standing at the side of the 
 dusty road under a tree to let a buggy 
 pass. Elinor recognized M'Alpin driv- 
 ing his trotting horse and ignored his sal- 
 utation. Richard put his bag down and 
 fumbled in his waistcoat pocket, extract- 
 ing a little cardboard box. out of which 
 he took a tiny package of tissue paper. 
 "Take off your glove, dear,"
 
 140 ELINOR COLHOUSE 
 
 The glove fitted closely; he was impa- 
 tient, shaky. Intending to help her, he 
 pulled at the finger-tips and let the ring 
 fall into a heap of dust. 
 
 "I don't see why you had to do that 
 now in the public road." 
 
 He was stooping down and looking for 
 the ring. "I couldn't wait" he said with- 
 out looking up "here it is." 
 
 He pulled out his handkerchief and 
 wiped it carefully, took the third finger 
 of her left hand and slipped the ring over 
 
 it. "It's rather large, I'm afraid " 
 
 holding her fingers in his palm, "I 
 thought you'd like it better than the 
 ordinary affair." 
 
 She twisted the little curb chain round 
 and round her tapering finger with its 
 fong, pointed nail, looking at it critically. 
 
 "It's very pretty: so unusual." 
 
 At the cottage Mrs. Colhouse was dis- 
 creetly out of the way. Richard depos- 
 ited his bag. 
 
 "Let's go out at once," he said. 
 
 She stood in front of him. She knew 
 she was looking simple, sweet, captivat- 
 ing, and he behaved as though he saw 
 nothing. What was he made of? 
 
 Suddenly as though a new idea had
 
 ELINOR COLHOUSE 141 
 
 struck him, he put his arm round her 
 waist and kissed her several times. 
 
 "I thought you'd forgotten my exist- 
 ence." 
 
 He took hold of her hand. "You 
 mustn't judge me now. I'm not alto- 
 gether responsible." 
 
 They walked slowly in the direction of 
 the lake. He stopped again in that 
 sudden way of his. 
 
 "Let's go where we went that first 
 day." 
 
 She made use of the glance with half- 
 closed lids. It was a good serviceable 
 expression, meaning several different 
 things and applicable in varying situa- 
 tions. It was at once equivocal and elo- 
 quent. The moment pointed to the van- 
 ity of words, they were both face to face 
 with fact, they were married 1 . 
 
 They reached the gate, the bars of 
 which lay on the ground, apparently as 
 they had left them. He stood looking at 
 them, then at her. They went on slowly 
 and in silence. She could observe him 
 cautiously out of the corner of her eye, 
 his were on the ground. 
 
 They reached the felled trees and again 
 he stood still observing them as though'
 
 142 ELINOR COLHOUSE 
 
 he wanted to photograph them on his 
 mind. He threw down his stick and laid 
 his jacket on them as before. "Wait a 
 second though." He picked up the jacket 
 again and feeling in the pockets, took out 
 a folded newspaper, a cigarette-case and 
 matches. She sat down and he lighted a 
 cigarette, seating himself in front of her 
 on the scrubby grass. He drew a deep 
 whiff or two. 
 
 "The first person I saw when I got to 
 Cliftonburg was a chap called Jim Bald- 
 win, and the first thing he did was to stick 
 the damned Enquirer under my nose. 
 Here it is." 
 
 Elinor took the paper. Except for ad- 
 ditional embroidery suitable to Clifton- 
 burg taste, it was a duplicate of what she 
 had already seen. She passed the paper 
 back to him without comment; it seemed 
 wisest to say nothing. 
 
 "You can imagine my feelings. If it 
 was in The Enquirer, it would be in every 
 paper in the States. Jim stared at me 
 with a silly grin on his face, waiting to 
 hear what I had to say." Richard 
 stopped and looked at her. "I know 
 you're thinking what a fool I was to deny 
 it. I dare say I was a fool. Anyhow, it
 
 ELINOR COLHOUSE 143 
 
 doesn't matter now one way or the other. 
 I was thinking, how did it come 
 out? who's done this? while I was 
 denying it. Naturally Jim didn't believe 
 me, said it was sure to come out. But 
 I stuck to it like Peter and kept repeating 
 'It's a damned lie,' hardly knowing what 
 I was saying. In a place like Clifton- 
 burg more people know Tom Fool than 
 Tom Fool knows." 
 
 Elinor thought he uttered the last 
 words bitterly. 
 
 He lit another cigarette. "It seemed 
 to me that everyone had read that 
 damned paper, with its grandson of an 
 earl, world-famous banker and the rest of 
 it. I felt I could sink into the ground 
 with humiliation. I shall never forget 
 that morning, not if I live "for ever. It's 
 the awful ghastly caddishness of it all." 
 
 Elinor couldn't for the life of her see it 
 in that light. She understood his being 
 taken by surprise and worried by their 
 marriage coming out; it had upset all his 
 plans and he was naturally afraid of the 
 consequences, but she failed to see any- 
 thing humiliating in the publicity from 
 any point of view. As far as she per- 
 sonally was concerned, it was a glorious
 
 144 ELINOR COLHOUSE 
 
 triumph. Whether he was the grandson 
 of an earl or not everyone would think so 
 and that was what mattered. But she 
 had no intention of telling him how she 
 felt; on the contrary she would adopt his 
 point of view externally. 
 
 "Yes. It is caddish of course but you 
 know what newspapers are." 
 
 "Caddish. American papers are the 
 most poisonous on earth. They're un- 
 fit for for I won't say what they're 
 unfit for and the men who write for them 
 are unscrupulous blackguards. The fellow 
 who stuck that in ought to be horse- 
 whipped. And if I knew who he was, 
 I'd " 
 
 Elinor almost gasped her relief. So he 
 didn't suspect even now ! 
 
 He mastered his anger and began 
 again. 
 
 "I couldn't face going to the office. I 
 took a cable car instead and went right up 
 to Chestnut Hills out into the country 
 1 wanted to go where I could think. I 
 must have walked a longish way and all 
 the time I was turning things over in my 
 mind. But I couldn't decide. At the 
 end I was as uncertain as at the beginning. 
 When I got back, there were three re-
 
 ELINOR COLHOUSE 145 
 
 porters waiting for me. Was it true that 
 I was married, The Evening Post said it 
 had authority to deny it? Was that 
 true? I told them I had nothing to say, 
 that whether I was married or unmarried 
 concerned nobody but the lady and my- 
 self." He blew a long breath through 
 his lips without looking at Elinor. He 
 had been talking as though his narrative 
 concerned no one in particular, as though 
 it were more than anything else a relief to 
 his own feelings. She had been follow- 
 ing the recital intently, anxious not to 
 miss a word. She saw herself cast for 
 the most interesting part in the drama. 
 All over the American continent people 
 would be reading about her, it was in- 
 tensely moving and exciting. 
 
 "There's more yet. While I was 
 getting rid of the reporters, the telephone 
 rang. It was Dr. Flossheim. He's my 
 uncle's best friend in America. It was he 
 who sent me north because I'd had rather 
 a bad go of a sort of cholera." 
 
 "Is he a Jew?" 
 
 "Yes, I suppose so. He's far and 
 away the whitest man in Cliftonburg, the 
 only European. I went straight off to see 
 him. You don't know how I felt when he
 
 146 ELINOR COLHOUSE 
 
 put his arm on my shoulder." He 
 turned his head away to master himself. 
 
 "I tried to deny it all at first but he 
 knew at once and I knew he knew. He 
 told me there was nothing to be ashamed 
 of. I might have been foolish or wise, 
 that depended on the girl. He asked who 
 you were and I told him all I knew. It 
 wasn't much, of course. I told him your 
 father was a doctor and lived in Water- 
 ville and he took a directory of doctors' 
 names off the top of his writing-desk, but 
 he couldn't find your father's. He 
 asked me if I was sure your father was a 
 doctor. I told him of course. He didn't 
 say any more about that but asked me 
 about you. And I told him every- 
 thing " 
 
 Elinor started. "Everything? What 
 do you mean by everything?" 
 
 "I told him how pretty you are and 
 how I'd fallen in love with you and all 
 that and how we'd gone up to St. Mary's 
 and I couldn't I couldn't you know 
 what I mean." 
 
 Elinor was roused. For the first time 
 she had a feeling of discomfort, if not 
 apprehension. She sat up straight and 
 looked very sharply at him.
 
 ELINOR COLHOUSE 147 
 
 "No; I don't know. What did you say 
 exactly?" 
 
 "I said that I had meant only to be en- 
 gaged to you but that that it wouldn't 
 have been fair to you that I felt I 
 couldn't leave you like that and that we 
 both decided to get married and keep it a 
 secret. And I told him about the 
 O'Haras being there and all that." 
 
 Richard had ceased speaking to the air, 
 he was looking her straight in the face 
 now. Elinor listened eagerly. 
 
 "What did he say then?" 
 
 "I don't think he said anything. He 
 took up a paper and handed it to me, it 
 was a cable from my Uncle Theo. I 
 don't remember the words exactly, some- 
 thing like this: 
 
 'New York Herald Paris states 
 Richard married. His parents very 
 anxious kindly obtain information and 
 cable fully.' " 
 
 Richard pulled out a cigarette and lit it, 
 rose to his feet and took a few steps, then 
 stood in front of her again. 
 
 "When I read that, I felt as though the 
 ground had given way under me. Of 
 course I was a damned fool not to have
 
 148 ELINOR COLHOUSE 
 
 realised that it would be cabled over but 
 up to that second it never occurred to me. 
 I read it over and over again. Those 
 words on that bit of paper were Uncle 
 Theo's. It seemed impossible so quickly, 
 before I'd had time even to think, be- 
 before I could write and explain or do any- 
 thing, I don't remember what I said then. 
 The next thing I recall is that he showed 
 me a cable he had been writing. I re- 
 member that: 
 
 " 'Richard married to very nice girl 
 cable instructions.' 
 
 'I shall send this now,' he said, 'and your 
 uncle will receive it in London to-morrow 
 morning. Go to Manitou at once and 
 bring her back here. By to-morrow 
 evening I shall have a reply.' Before 
 he said good-bye he told me not to worry, 
 he was sure everything would be all right. 
 Now my people knew, I could be above- 
 board. And I thought of how much 
 worse it might have been. If it hadn't 
 been for him I should have gone on deny- 
 ing it and " He laughed in a curious 
 
 forced way so that she stared at him, sur- 
 prised.
 
 ELINOR COLHOUSE 149 
 
 "What's coming is the best. The next 
 morning I'd packed my bag and was hav- 
 ing breakfast when all of a sudden I heard 
 a loud voice in the hall. I went to the 
 door and there I saw a short, thick-set 
 chap. He was shouting in old darkie 
 Enoch's ear that he wanted to see me. 
 When he caught sight of me, he came 
 forward and said: 'Mr. Richard Kurt, I 
 want a word with you.' I took him into 
 the dining-room. 'I'm Joe Colhouse. 
 Are you married to my sister or are you 
 not? That's what I'm here to know.' ' 
 
 Richard jumped to his feet and laughed 
 again. 
 
 "I don't see anything funny in that, 
 American men feel that way about the 
 honour of their women." 
 
 Richard laughed no longer. "We 
 soon made friends, Joe's a very good sort. 
 He showed me his pistol, he called it a 
 gun, and told me that he was right glad 
 he hadn't shown it to me another way. 
 He's coming to meet us at Cliftonburg as 
 soon as we get there. I've got to the 
 end of my story now." 
 
 He threw himself down on the grass 
 and rested his forehead on his arms. 
 
 "Then we might as well go back to the
 
 150 ELINOR COLHOUSE 
 
 cottage," Elinor suggested. He had 
 apparently told her all there was to tell 
 and it was getting late; supper would be 
 ready and they had to get up to the hotel. 
 
 They walked along some distance in 
 silence till he said: "I want your mother 
 to know everything." 
 
 Elinor wondered why he said that. 
 "Of course you can tell it all over again 
 to her if you like." She was unable to 
 resist putting a contemptuous tone into 
 her voice. 
 
 He shot a quick glance at her. 
 "Thanks, I don't think I'll do that. I'm 
 not pleased enough with myself to want 
 to repeat it." 
 
 She was puzzled again. Why couldn't 
 he say what he meant instead of implying 
 all sorts of things? "What are you 
 specially displeased about?" she asked. 
 
 He seemed to close his lips and he 
 didn't look at her as he answered: 
 "Everything." 
 
 "I suppose you include our being 
 married." She was being purposely pro- 
 vocative. She would rather have it out 
 and have done with it.
 
 ELINOR COLHOUSE 151 
 
 "Since you asked me, yes," he answered 
 firmly. 
 
 She stood still. 
 
 "You mean you wish you hadn't 
 married me?" 
 
 Something within drove her forward, 
 drove her as a murderer is driven to the 
 spot where he committed his crime. 
 
 "Look here, Elinor. Don't make me 
 say things I don't want to say. You 
 know I never wanted to get married in 
 this sort of way. But we are married 
 and whatever happens, I'm going to do 
 all I can." 
 
 "Oh, I see." Elinor's expression and 
 voice were impregnated with irony. 
 "You're going to do your duty under the 
 disagreeable circumstances." 
 
 "I never said that. What I said be- 
 fore, I say again. It was wrong to get 
 married without my telling my people and 
 I'm airaid of your suffering through it. 
 That's what I meant when I said I wanted 
 your mother to know everything. I want 
 her to know what I said on the boat and 
 afterwards on the bridge at St. Mary's. 
 I want her to know that I really did try 
 to prevent all this happening."
 
 152 ELINOR COLHOUSE 
 
 His voice dropped as he uttered the 
 last words. They were still standing at 
 the entrance to the little wood, the gate 
 with its bars off was just in front of them. 
 
 "What happening?" Elinor simply 
 couldn't grasp what he was alluding to. 
 
 "Can't you see what I mean? The 
 whole thing. The shock to my people, 
 the disgusting papers, your brother 
 coming after me as though I were a sort 
 of I don't know what." 
 
 Certainly the Joe episode had unneces- 
 sarily complicated matters, but what did 
 he want to harp on that for? 
 
 "No one need know anything about Joe 
 if you don't tell them." 
 
 "Tell them!" he looked as if she'd 
 struck him. "I'd rather oh, Elinor I 
 wish you could see what I mean. I think 
 your mother will understand better. 
 That's why I want her to know." 
 
 They walked on but she was still mys- 
 tified. What did he want, anyway? 
 So far as she could see, everything had 
 turned out uncommonly well. 
 
 Reaching the cottage, they found Mrs. 
 Colhouse awaiting them eagerly. Yet
 
 ELINOR COLHOUSE 153 
 
 another telegram had arrived. It was 
 addressed to Richard. 
 
 "Uncle cables you are to take your wife 
 to his house see me on arrival. 
 
 "Flossheim." 
 
 Elinor ran her eyes over it. "We're 
 to go to Richard's uncle's house at once, 
 mammy." 
 
 "Your uncle is fine !" Mrs. Colhouse 
 exclaimed. 
 
 Richard made no observation. He had 
 taken the telegram from Elinor's hand 
 and was reading it over and over again as 
 though he couldn't believe the words. 
 
 "Of course he would do that. It's the 
 right way to behave. I'm his niece now." 
 Elinor was exceedingly pleased, so pleased 
 that going close to Richard, whose eyes 
 were still glued to the telegram, she put 
 her arm round his neck and kissed him. 
 
 "You'll see, everything will go well 
 now, dear. Don't worry any more." 
 Then releasing him, "Let's have supper, 
 mammy; we've got to go to the hotel, re- 
 member, and time's getting on." 
 
 Richard looked up, still holding the 
 telegram. "I say, don't let's go to that 
 beastly hotel."
 
 154 ELINOR COLHOUSE 
 
 Elinor faced round. "You don't seem 
 to remember there's no room here." 
 
 "I don't care. I'll sleep on the sofa." 
 
 What sort of a man was he anyway? 
 Within ten minutes was a nice comfort- 
 able room, she was his newly married 
 wife; and he preferred sleeping un- 
 comfortably on a sofa alone. She had 
 engaged the room and M'Alpin had seen 
 them. Up there in the brightly lit hotel 
 everyone would be agog to see them, to 
 see her, the heroine of a romance. She 
 had pictured it all. They would pass 
 through the crowded hall, ignoring 
 everyone. It would take a few minutes 
 for the clerk to get the key and accom- 
 pany them to the elevator. Very likely 
 M'Alpin had sent flowers up to their 
 room. Everyone's eyes would be upon 
 her, all the girls would be wild with envy. 
 Was she to forgo all this without a strug- 
 gle? 
 
 She took him upstairs to her room 
 after supper, showed him her two beau- 
 tifully packed trunks, and a large New 
 York hatbox; she was rightly proud of 
 her accomplished packing. 
 
 "And here's my grip, everything for 
 the night, and I've arranged for the ex-
 
 ELINOR COLHOUSE 15.5 
 
 press-people to call for the trunks in the 
 morning. I thought you'd want to be 
 alone with me, dear." She turned her 
 eyes down and tucked in the lacy neck of 
 the nightgown within the bag while she 
 spoke. She couldn't be so unrefined as 
 to give him more than a very slight hint. 
 Would he take it? 
 
 "I quite understand, dear, very thought- 
 ful of you. But I can't face the music, 
 I'm worn out. The thought of a hotel 
 to-night freezes me. I'd much rather 
 sleep on the sofa downstairs." 
 
 From the finality in his tone she knew 
 she would have to abandon her project. 
 It was evident that he was incapable of 
 appreciating a girl's feelings, especially 
 such a girl as she was. He understood 
 nothing. This might be the very last 
 time she would ever see Manitou, that 
 Manitou would see her. Yet she must 
 slink off like a little nobody. Romance 
 alone entitled her to play her part but she 
 must be deprived of it just because he was 
 disinclined to go to a hotel. And he was 
 unfeeling besides. It didn't occur to him 
 that he was humiliating her by showing 
 he preferred being alone on this first night 
 that they could openly and without fear
 
 156 ELINOR COLHOUSE 
 
 of consequences be man and wife in fact 
 as well as in name. She wasn't an 
 animal kind of woman, thank God. 
 
 "You needn't think I'm specially anx- 
 ious to share a room with you." Her 
 resentment had boiled over, she couldn't 
 keep the words back. 
 
 He was standing beside her leaning 
 against the bed with his hand on the edge 
 of the bag. At these words he stepped 
 away and glared at her. 
 
 "Elinor. How can you speak like 
 that? I don't understand you." 
 
 She drew herself up haughtily. "So I 
 observe. I shouldn't try if I were you." 
 She turned sharply and walked out of the 
 room. 
 
 He followed her slowly downstairs and 
 seating himself near her mother, began 
 talking as though nothing special had 
 happened. 
 
 It was maddening her to see how little 
 he cared but she wouldn't show it. The 
 sooner he learnt that she could be as in- 
 different as he was, the better! 
 
 After supper mammy with her usual 
 tactlessness proposed that he should have 
 her room; she'd go and prepare it at
 
 ELINOR COLHOUSE 157 
 
 once, Nell and she could sleep together 
 for that one night. 
 
 Richard would not have that, he would 
 sleep on the sofa, he said. 
 
 Elinor did not stay to hear the argu- 
 ment out; she had had enough. "Fight 
 it out between you. Good-night." 
 
 He could sleep on the doormat for all 
 she cared.
 
 AL LIBRARY FACILITY 
 
 A 000 034 337 6